#the temple of the ultimate ultimate weapon

[daisywords]

EVERYONE HOLD UP I think I just discovered the missing piece that connects the worldbuilding and the plot and the characters and everything and surprise surprise it's an element I was considering near the wip's genesis but discarded and now it's back in full force babey

[rafecameroninterlude]

rafe + gun play 🫠

warnings: dealer!rafe, bratty!reader, gunplay, a little self discovery lol

“will you put that down already? jesus, you’re going to kill somebody.” rafe took the loaded gun out of your hand, his tall figure towering over your own. you two had been stuck here at barry’s dingy trailer for about an hour already, rafe’s business partner leaving your boyfriend in charge of looking after his shit while he ran a few errands. “i’m bored! what are we supposed to do here, ray?” you followed rafe back inside, plopping down on the couch with a sigh.

“just sit and look pretty. barry should be here soon.” he emptied the chamber of the gun, placing it on the kitchen counter. “but i’ve been doing that!” rafe pinched the bridge of his nose, “y/n..” his tone was firm, a warning for you to stop giving him a hard time. ultimately surrendering, you fiddled with a loose thread on the hem of your denim skirt. you two sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes until rafe joined you on the couch.

“what’s your sudden interest in my gun about? i thought you hated that thing.” he draped an arm over your shoulders, pulling you into his side. you smiled, knowing he was warming up to you because he felt bad for getting stern with you earlier. “i did.. but i saw you use it the other day and i wanted to see how it would feel in my hands.” your hand was under his shirt, fingertips tracing shapes into the soft skin of his abdomen. “and what did you think?” he hummed.

“well, i don’t know. somebody took it away from me before i could figure out how i felt about it.” rafe shook his head, retrieving the gun before cautiously handing it over to you. running the pads of your fingers across the cold metal, you shivered slightly when your mind went back to the cracking noise it made when you first saw rafe fire it. “so?” he leaned in, the stark contrast between your pink manicured nails, and the black color of steel, making a humored smile form on his lips.

“it’s heavy..” you held it up, with rafe’s assistance of course. “it’s heavier when there’s ammunition in it.” he placed his hand over yours, making you grip the handle. “ammunition?” your eyebrows knitted in confusion. “bullets, babe.” you giggled, “oh, right.” rafe pressed a kiss to your temple before bringing you up to your feet. “you see that beer can on the table? aim at it.” you tried to ignore the way the buckle of his belt pressed against your ass, a shaky breath leaving your lips once you had the gun pointed at your target.

“pull the trigger.” your heart was beating in your ears as you slowly pulled, flinching once you heard the hollow click of the barrel. “see? it’s easy.” you sighed in relief, jumping excitedly as rafe laughed along with you. “can we load it now?” rafe stopped abruptly, clearing his throat. “no.” he reached for the gun, making you move away before he had the chance to take it again. “give it, it’s not a toy-” he froze when you pointed it at him. even though there was nothing inside the damned thing, the sight of you smiling with a weapon in your hand was unsettling… and kind of sexy?

“aw, are you scared ray?” you pushed the metal into his chest, “sit down.” rafe did as he was told, holding his hands up defensively as he settled into the couch cushions beneath him. you couldn’t help the satisfied feeling that pooled in your belly from having your usually dominant boyfriend now bending at your will. “take your shirt off.” the corner of rafe’s lips lifted in a smirk. surprisingly for him, he was enjoying every second of you thinking you had the one up on him.

he slipped the garment off, your eyes traveling down his torso. god, your boyfriend was glorious. rafe leaned back, manspreading as you stood between his thighs. “what do you think you’re gonna do with that?” you shrugged at his words, trailing the gun up his thigh “i don’t know.. maybe make you take your pants off next.” your next move was a bold one, but it riled up rafe in the best way possible. with the firearm now pressed against his erection, he was practically buzzing with the need to flip the script on you.

as if on cue, you heard the motor of a dirt bike riding up the dirt path to the trailer. rafe took your moment of distraction as a chance to grab the gun out of your grasp, which was deemed successful when he pulled you down onto his lap, the steel now digging into the skin of your thigh. “thought you were tough shit, huh?” you whimpered at the slightly painful sensation, his arm draped over your chest, holding you in place.

“no!” you squeaked, a shiver running down your spine as he trailed the gun between your legs, briefly touching your clothed cunt before bringing it up to your chest. “still think we should load it now?” rafe teased. you shook your head, confused as to why you felt horny with a gun pointed to your cheek. just as you grinded yourself against his hardened cock, barry walked in with a duffle bag. “what are y’all freaks getting into now?”

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 162 }

moonlight.

jinwoo sung x fem.reader

sung jinwoo walked into the hunter association building for a scheduled meeting with the chairman. while taking casual strides into the building, he let out a yawn. jinwoo believed that nothing out of the ordinary would happen today-

only to be proven wrong the moment he opens the double doors to the conference room as a sudden weight was felt shoved against his chest.

had jinwoo been any normal man, he would have quickly been toppled over. but thanks to the newfound poise he had gained since becoming an s-rank, jinwoo manages to steady himself while keeping an arm around the stranger’s form.

“whoa, be careful.” his voice was gentle and not at all spoken in a manner that was meant to be like a scolding. yet still, he hears the gasp and looks down-

only to be met with someone unfamiliar-

only to be met with you.

your eyes widen with surprise with your lips halfway parted. incoherent sputtering were all he could hear when you back away from him. clearly sensing your embarrassment and discomfort, jinwoo lets go of you while keeping a hand shoved into the pockets of his coat, grey eyes shining with mirth for you.

“sorry for bumping into you, moonlight! i’ll be more careful next time!”

now this was interesting.

never before had he been referred to by such a nickname before.

moonlight?

he replays the word you had uttered in your panicked state over and over again before deciding that he liked it.

ready to say something to you, he was given little time to react when you suddenly bowed down to him, “sorry, but i’m late for a very important mission!”

you end up stepping off to the side, running past jinwoo as the young hunter was left staring off at you with pure amusement in his eyes.

“ah, hunter sung jinwoo! it’s nice to see you again, come on in, there’s a few things i’d like to discuss with you.” chairman go gunhee greets him with a hearty laugh.

despite his reluctance to look away from you, jinwoo enters the conference room with chairman go. during the meeting, the chairman spoke about the hundreds of sponsorship offers he had received for ahjin guild, yet as jinwoo poured over the paperwork, not a single one of those offers stood out to him. clearly, he had you other things on his mind.

why would i need any of these deals when the system provides me with far superior weapons?

jinwoo was dimly aware of the chairman letting out a sigh before saying a name he had never heard of before.

“excuse me?” jinwoo looks up expectantly to see a smile painted on the chairman’s features.

“that’s the name of the new healer that ran into you just now. she gets a bit scatterbrained when she’s nervous, but the young woman has a good heart. ever since ms. joohee lee retired, i have seen her transfer and appearance at our association as a blessing.”

jinwoo winces at the mention of joohee, recalling back their last meeting together when she announced her retirement to him. perhaps he should figure out her address and mail a gift to her?

but chairman go’s next words was what ultimately breaks him out of his reveries, making jinwoo do a double take, “today was her first raid.”

knowing that it was your first raid fills jinwoo with a strange discomfort, his chest tightening as the urge to protect you fills his veins. “you sent her off without me?”

the chairman gives him a confused expression, “i assure you, hunter sung, that this is a low level gate; a mere c-rank. the woman is a certified a-rank healer, and i’m certain she can handle healing her comrades.”

jinwoo’s heart suddenly began to stop just then, being filled with fear as he had flashbacks pertaining to the cartenon temple-

the same double dungeon that had killed him before deciding to choose him as the system’s player.

without even thinking about it, he looks towards the exit and asks for the exact location of where the c-level gate had spawned. chairman go lets out a sigh, collecting all of the documents together into one neat pile before answering him.

“it’s in the middle of the city, you wouldn’t miss it, hunter sung.”

jinwoo thanks the chairman before making a mad dash out of the association’s building and into the busy streets of the city. as he ran, he was able to sense the gate’s power quickly dwindling as it seemed to be on the cusp of disappearing.

hm? that’s strange; is the raid already over?

within the next few minutes, jinwoo arrives at the location where the gate had supposedly been, being filled with a relief when he saw a group of hunters and you in the midst of the crowd. they each call out your name, giving you a thumbs up while expressing their gratitude towards you and your healing abilities.

in return, your expression was sheepish, and a little embarrassed, waving to your comrades as they each returned home for the day. your hand was still kept in an upright position when you finally noticed him standing a few feet away from you with a lazy smile on his face.

you appeared to be flustered now, hands now gripping on tightly to your satchel as you attempted to run away from him by going in the opposite direction-

lucky for jinwoo, he was fast enough, already able to cut off your escape as he appears directly in front of you, eyes glowing a faint hue as his lips were turned up in a smile.

“why did you start running right after seeing me?” jinwoo made sure his voice was soothing and smooth so as to not scare you away. he could see the way your eyes darted everywhere else but at him, cheeks seeming to warm up in response to his question.

“u-uhm, well, it’s because i had run into you earlier and uhm-“

“you had called me moonlight, right?”

it seems he had nailed it, for your expression became even more panicked as you tried to take several steps away from him. but jinwoo, still filled with amusement and joy, was simply having too much fun to let you go.

“come on, there’s no need to look so panicked. your nickname for me actually intrigued me a lot.” he keeps a hand behind your back, preventing you from moving away from him.

“i’m just curious about your nickname for me, that’s all.”

jinwoo had to fight back the grin and chuckle that threatens to escape from his lips (he physically had to purse them in response to your flustered state.)

“uhm, well, that i-is…” you kept stuttering the tiniest bit, even fanning your face in response before setting the palm of your hands against your heated cheeks. “i’m sorry, i’d rather not say, hunter sung.”

jinwoo didn’t like how stifling his title sounded against your pretty, parted lips, making him sigh as he ran a frustrated hand through his hair.

after all, he would much rather be your moonlight.

“come on, let’s celebrate.” he decides to change the subject then in hopes of getting you to relax around him.

“huh? what? did you say celebrate?”

not even giving you a chance to reject him, he places a hand behind your back while leading you into the city.

“wait… where are you taking me?”

“out to eat at this steakhouse as celebration for your first successful raid.” jinwoo admits to you with a wink and a grin, making you even more flustered in response.

“oh, there’s no need! besides, i’m a little sweaty a-and-“

“don’t worry about it; it’s more of a casual dining experience, and i’m certain no one will be opposed to a healer like yourself dining at their establishment.”

you were ready to protest once more when jinwoo could detect a low, grumbling sound coming from your stomach. a cheeky grin was felt spreading when he looks down at your abdomen. unable to meet his gaze, you fold your arms across your chest, “okay, f-fine! i’ll join you for dinner…”

knowing he had won, jinwoo takes a hold of your hand in his, weaving across the city with a bright smile on his face when he takes you to the restaurant. upon arrival, he felt a little disheartened to see how busy it was, but when the hostess saw him, he was immediately offered a private table near the back of the restaurant.

“hm, i guess it pays off to be an s-rank…” once they were both seated, jinwoo takes a look at the menu while offering you the basket of warm rolls with butter for you to munch on to help with easing your hunger. losing all of your prior shyness now, you take two rolls and place them on your plate, spreading the butter on it before taking a bite. basking in your eager moans as you ate, jinwoo couldn’t help but let out a light chuckle in response.

“is there anything in particular that you’d like to order?”

between bites of your rolls, you shake your head before swallowing. “n-no, i don’t mind having what you’re having…”

jinwoo hums in response, collecting both of the menus when the waiter comes by to take his order.

“we’ll have two 16 ounce steaks cooked medium rare please.”

the waiter nods and writes down the order, “and what would you like to drink?”

“red wine and two waters.”

the waiter then takes the menu while smiling, “got it. it will be out soon, sir.”

jinwoo was finally left alone with you, seeing the basket of rolls already half empty as you worked on what he assumed was your last roll. he smiles at you before taking a roll himself, “do you feel better now?”

“oh, yes! ah, sorry if i looked like a pig, scarfing down all that buttery bread.” you had a sheepish expression on your face now, scratching the back of your head while letting out a nervous giggle.

jinwoo shakes his head in response, “there’s no need to apologize, pig out all you want. you can always be yourself around me.”

he listens to the way you proceed to swallow thickly, not quite brave enough to meet his gaze when you thanked him. humming in response, jinwoo also starts enjoying the dinner rolls while making small talk with you, wishing to get to know you better as you both waited for your food to arrive.

and truly, jinwoo did not hold back with his questions that were strangely intimate.

were you seeing anyone at the moment?

what was your last relationship like?

what was your childhood like?

do you have any siblings? if so, are you the eldest, middle, or youngest child?

when did you awaken your powers as a healer?

what is your…

favorite food-

favorite color-

favorite song?

the moment his questioning ceased was when their food finally arrived, as two large plates steaks with mashed potatoes and broccoli were placed before them.

“well, dig in. and don’t be shy, i know you still must be starving, especially after your first raid.” jinwoo had to make sure to reassure you as he could see the way your mouth was practically salivating at the food.

“t-thank you so much!” picking up your knife and fork, you began cutting into the juicy and tender piece of steak, placing the morsel within your mouth as you let out a happy moan in response.

“delicious!”

jinwoo was filled with utter delight as he watched you eating your meal, taking casual bites of his own food, but never once straying his gaze too far away from you. you continue eating in silence, not saying a word as it was clear that you wanted to savor this meal to its fullest.

you and jinwoo continued to eat in a comfortable silence for the next hour, with jinwoo letting out a whistle at your own, empty plate. “wow, that’s pretty amazing. i thought i was the only one who could polish off this meal.”

you were in the middle of taking gulps of your iced water, setting down your glass before wiping at your lips, “sorry, it was so good… and i guess i was pretty hungry. i had skipped lunch earlier because i was so nervous about my first raid.”

“that’s understandable.” jinwoo nods while taking sips of his red wine. “just… don’t skip meals ever again, okay? your body needs it- especially now that you’re a healer.”

you nod in agreement while giving him a smile. “thank you, i’ll definitely keep that in mind… hunter sung.”

“jinwoo.” he ends up correcting you with a sigh. if you weren’t going to call him moonlight again, then he would much rather you refer to him by his first name.

“ah, what…? you’re giving me permission to call you by your first name?”

“yes.”

jinwoo leans back against his seat with his arms crossed over his chest, “is that a problem?”

you shake your head while clearing your throat, “n-no, it’s no problem at all! if that’s the case, then you may call me by my first name, too.”

when the waiter returns, he asks if you or jinwoo would like dessert, but you both shake your head at the offer. jinwoo gives the waiter his card, paying for both of the meals, which earned another smile from you.

with the dinner date completed, jinwoo places his card back within his wallet, pocketing it before casually walking beside you. you were playing with the straps of your satchel, mouth opening and closing, like you wanted to say something to him.

“the reason i called you moonlight was because your radiance is as gentle as the moon.”

your sudden words makes jinwoo stops in his tracks, feeling his heart begin to pound when he heard that nickname again-

moonlight.

his attention was fully on you now, facing you completely as he rests both of his hands within the pocket of his coat. you did not meet his gaze, clearly embarrassed as you forced yourself to tell him the truth.

“i spent some time perfecting my healing abilities because i held a deep admiration for you… you were achingly beautiful to me, jinwoo… you filled my life with such motivation and light- however, your presence and beauty wasn’t harsh like looking up at the sun, shining so brightly that it may blind me.”

you take another moment to yourself before finally meeting his gaze, eyes shining with a look akin to adoration for him.

“no, instead, your brilliance was more like that of the moon. your gentle rays was like a beacon for me… that’s why, you’re my moonlight.”

once you had finished your explanation, jinwoo felt as though his heart was floating in response. never before had such unbidden happiness filled his veins, the feeling becoming so potent that he had to take a step closer to you.

“oh? that’s why you called me moonlight?” he asks with another grin spreading across his handsome features.

“ah, yes. in my rush… i didn’t want to say your name and my secret nickname for you kind of slipped…?” you admit with a bit of a tremor in your voice.

his rich chuckle was heard echoing into the night air when he leans down, placing a hand on your chin while admitting, “to be honest, i’m glad that your secret nickname for me slipped.”

he hums a bit while brushing the tip of his nose against your forehead. you end up clinging to the front of his coat while shakily calling out to him.

“please, refer to me as your moonlight from now on.” jinwoo gives you a soft smile, taking your hand in his while pressing a kiss against the back of it.

“i can be your moonlight, and you can be my love. how does that sound?”

he basks in the way your smile widens in response to his proposition, giving him an eager nod before wrapping your arms around his neck.

“that sounds perfect to me, moonlight.”

and when he finally leans down to press his lips against yours, it was a sensation jinwoo knew that he would never once forget for the rest of his life.

a.n. - i’ve had this daydream stewing in my head for a while now, and finally decided to write it all down in a more coherent story ｡ﾟ(TヮT)ﾟ｡ i wanted to post this real quick before spending the following weeks doing research with my professor, so please do enjoy!

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[fishermanshook]

SH4RK B!TES !!

( ellen joe ) + gn!reader

୧⋆｡🪭. -ʚɞ relationship h/c’s , friends to lovers , grammar and spelling warning

INTRO

Never one to think she had the time or energy to spend on relationships that ventured out of the comfort zone of “friends”, Ellen Joe can’t remember the last romantic relationship she shared with somebody in the past four years.

But then, you come into the picture, and everything [including how she’s ever felt towards anyone before] changes for the greater good.

꒰wc꒱ 856

✧ Ellen Joe, the newest member of Victoria Housekeeping and one of the most popular girls in her school, has never once thought of love. Okay, maybe that’s bending the truth a bit. She has thought of it, and on more than one occasion, but the shark is already busy enough. Ellen’s been tied up with school work, her friends, and most importantly, a work field she keeps hidden from all. She holds the friends she has tightly knitted to her and isn’t one to take up new activities without good reason. She truly just doesn’t have the time for it.

✧ Ellen Joe who, as oblivious as ever, doesn’t pick up on her own growing feelings until one of her friends asks her about it. A “close friend” has now become something seemingly more than that, and she [plus the entire school atp] wants to learn more about it. Overall, it’s an awkward conversation that ultimately ends in the shark realizing her “new” feelings.

↳ Unless you’re the most oblivious person in New Eridu, her affection towards you isn’t well hidden. A slight blush accompanied by a small smile appears on her face when you appear by her side. Ellen’s tail sways quicker than usual as she tries to calm it along with her ever-reddening face.

“You even gave them your last lollipop! What do you mean you didn’t realize you liked them?” Her friend asks with confusion and a bit of rage laced in her voice. “I’ve been your best friend since freshman year and you’ve never once given me a lollipop, let alone your last.”

“I was feeling nice…I hadn’t realized it truly meant something. But the more that I think about it, I guess I do like them. Like, a lot.” Ellen realizes.

✧ Ellen Joe who confesses her feelings to you in front of a sunset background on the top of her school. It’s the only place she can think of that will spare her just a bit of privacy from the prying eyes of others. She hides her face behind her tail as she reveals her feelings towards you, and is met with a kiss on the lips as a confirmation that her feelings are mutual.

✧ Ellen Joe isn’t one to delve much into the romantics outside of the privacy of her own home, or at least with the two of you alone. The most that she will do for you in public is hold your hand while she walks you to your next class.

↳ Ellen seems like one to not enjoy physical affection, but when she’s away from the crowd [mostly people that she knows], she becomes much more affectionate. Pressing soft, little kisses to the temples of your forehead before slinking her arms around your waist, pulling you in closer as the two of you cuddle on her bead.

✧ Ellen Joe who, despite her lack of physical affection in public, wants people to know that you are at least taken by her. She doesn’t want to rub it in the face of anyone, but as long as people know that you and her are a thing, she feels a bit more at ease. It’s the knowledge that nobody’s going to be trying to woo you in any shape or form. And if they were to? Well, you’d have to make sure you hold her back.

↳ Ellen is such a sucker for seeing you wear items of her own. It yet again signals to all who your amazing girlfriend is. A handmade bracelet adorns her right wrist at all times, and a homemade trinket made from red gems dangles on the end of her weapon when she fights. A reminder for her to keep her head held high as she pierces through enemies and reaps the rewards. [her paycheck.]

✧ Ellen Joe who is [slightly rightfully so] protective over you. Her job, while a well-paying job, puts Ellen and her loved ones at risk: including you. She’s always scanning the area around the two of you, looking out for any particularly suspicious people. Do they have a weapon on them? Do they have bad intentions? She’s paranoid either way, and you have to give her hand a tight squeeze to bring her back to reality.

“Yes, there are bad people in the world, but no, no one is out to get us [at least right now].” You state, kissing her on the cheek. The last part you keep to yourself, there’s no need to keep her worried. She grumbles and mutters something under her breath before taking your hand in hers.

✧ Ellen Joe, the newest member of Victoria Housekeeping and one of the most popular girls in her school, hates to admit that you’ve stolen her heart.

note: hiiiii…*bats my eyes cutely* I wrote this before seeing the natlan trailer and wow it’s…something!!! love Ellen, dislike hoyo

© fishermanshook — no stealing , translating , plagiarizing or reposting my work on other any other sites + reblogs adored !!

[unholyhelbig]

Natasha Angst pls !!!

Title: Hail Hydra

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanov/Romanoff

Word Count: 6062

Warnings: Mentions of torture, mentions of mind control, gunshot wound, visions of drowning, general angst, and horrible spelling because I never proofread, angst with an eventual happy ending. Sort of.

Summary: Reader is sent into the Framework, an alternate world where her biggest regret is remedied. What happens when she realizes that this might be a better reality?

[A/n: Do you need to know anything about Agent of Shield to read? No, but you're depriving yourself of the brillance that is the Framework arch if you don't. Seriously some of the best acting in the Marvel Tv universe.]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

The bedroom had a coolness to it that was interrupted by the slats of white light streaming through the window. You’d kicked the heavy duvet from your feet to compensate for the rise in temperature, but still found yourself sweating through your shirt.

The apartment that you rented in Lower Manhattan faced away from the sun. You relied on your natural clock and the blaring alarm to rouse you from sleep- never the sun. You breathed in the floral scent of laundry detergent, hugging the cool side of the pillow close. You’d never felt more content, and squeezed your eyes shut until you saw stars, willing sleep to envelope you once more.

It was when the bed shifted next to you, and the weight of an arm around your midsection tightened, did you finally open your eyes. The ceiling was a light gray color, a fan whirring with a dull hum in its center. A cold nose that certainly didn’t belong to your dog pressed behind your ear.

As far as you were concerned, you had fallen asleep alone last night. Not only that, but you had succumbed to the day's exhaustions in your own home. Not the SHIELD base. Your heart pounded in your chest, fingers gripping listlessly at the thousand count sheets that were too soft to be your own.

A raspy groan rumbled against your skin, formed into tired words. “You’re awake.”

Your body tensed even further, if possible, eyes darting frantically to the woman next to you. Natasha Romanoff. The Black Widow. SHIELD’s ultimate weapon and your on and off fling for the past seven years. She’d never stayed the night past hot tangles of limbs and bitten exclamations of ecstasy. Even that had stopped two years ago- your relationship, or lack thereof, turned strictly professional.

You, a high ranking SHIELD agent, and her an Avenger that did more press than missions at this point. Your paths barely crossed and when they did, she would offer you a huff of indignance, but never a smile. She’d made you question your abilities in bed. But, it was nearly impossible to be a good lay for something like Natasha. Someone so sensual and carnal.

Her fingers dug into your ribs painlessly, heat overwhelming on your bare skin where her touch had traveled. There was a coolness of a wedding band there, and your thumb swiped against your own ring finger, meeting the edge of gold. Your breath caught entirely, and this caused the trained spy to pull her head from the crook of your neck and level you with a sleepy, adorable, pout of concern.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, prying her hand from your midsection and pressing the back of her fingers to your head. She was taking your temperature. “Are you feeling alright?”

You blinked at her ripe green eyes. You had to say something but Natasha was not known for her displays of affection, nor had she ever asked if you were okay, outside of the realm of your usual consents and safewords. Of course- she’d never stayed the night either.

“I’m fine,” Her eyes narrowed at you and she shifted on her elbow, pulling the blanket up to her chest. You struggled to soothe her with something more genuine. “I might be coming down with a cold.”

“Mm, your throat sounds a little scratchy.”

She kissed your temple and you fought back another wave of stiffness that threatened to overtake you. This was all so strange. This room was not your own, and it had too many personal effects to be Natasha’s. There was a wedding band on your finger, and as your eyes moved across the dresser, there were multiple photos of the two of you together. Then- there were three.

“You can take today, I’m sure Leo won’t mind. He’d rather you better than forcing yourself to go into work.”

Leo. He never used his first name at the office. He was Agent Fitz, he was Fitzsimmons, he was a loveable and brilliant man who divulged his hatred for his namesake over half a pack of Miller Lights.

“No, no. I’ll be alright, really.”

She shot you another skeptical look but didn’t push the matter further as she rose from the warmth of the bed and started towards the bathroom. You watched her toned figure as she made her way to the sink and flicked on the water.

You sat up, head swimming. Your body ached as if you actually did have a cold. But you forced yourself to the dresser, picked up a photo that was propped up next to a glass dish filled with silver rings and jewelry.

A nice family photo of both you and Natasha, and a young teenager that had the Black Widow’s eyes and the slope of your nose. Your heart seized and then warmed. The two of you had a daughter? God- you really must have hit your head to cause this level of delusion.

“I know you miss her,” Natasha sighed out. She leaned against the doorframe, toothpaste frothing at the corners of her mouth. You breathed in the sharpness of the mint that accompanied her, running your thumb over the textured frame. “But, I’m sure she’s having an amazing time at the Barton farm. We can video chat tonight.”

You felt the corner of your lip pull up in affection for this stranger. “I’d like that.”

Natasha’s eyes crinkled into a smile that made your world tint. You’d seen her experience bliss before, but this was something different. This was something you wanted to pull out of her any chance you got. The light in her eyes was unmatched.

She slapped your ass hard enough to pull you out of your own head. “Well then, Malyshka, if you’re that intent on going to work today then you better get a move on.”

apprehensively, you did as you were told and started to rifle through the drawers until you found an acceptable pair of pants and a shirt. You were thankful that Natasha had retreated back into the bathroom so she couldn’t see your confused attempts at figuring out what drawer was what.

When she did emerge, she was in a silk black button down and a pair of pants that hugged her curves perfectly. Bouts of red hair fell over her shoulders and a standard issue gun was attached at her hip. Your mouth went dry as she closed the distance between you both and ran her fingers under your own collar, smoothing it down.

“Something’s missing,” Natasha purred, your stare snapping up to hers in a silent, and despite plea for mercy. She was a dangerous creature, one that could snap your neck in a moment if you gave her cause.

Kid be damned. Happy married life be damned.

“That so?”

“You almost forgot your badge. I’m not turning around on the freeway again, baby.”

A nervous chuckle escaped you, one saturated in relief. Natasha held up the simple identification and the noise died in your throat. Agent Y/L/N. Level Seven. Hydra. The gangly tentacles stretched its suction cups towards the edges of the plastic, hollow skeletal eyes stared back at you as you struggled to school your expression. Natasha’s eyebrow lifted.

“I’ve just realized, that is a horrible photo of me.”

She scoffed, shoulders pitching low “Everyone knows you can get a better picture at the DMV. I don’t hold it against you. But I will if we’re late.”

Kate’s hands were bound behind her back. She looked stiff, uncomfortable in the lone metal chair that was in the center of the interrogation room. Her hair was springing in different directions from her ponytail, shoulders rolling back ever so often to quell the pounding in her spine.

Her eyes found yours through the two-way glass, almost as if she sought out your presence. That gray and stormy stare bore into you. It took everything in you not to look away, to cower in the face of her pain and suffering.

Natasha frowned at the file open in her hands. “How can such a brilliant girl with a family like the Bishops sympathize with the likes of SHIELD? With a mother like Eleanor, you’d figure something good would translate.”

Good. The establishment you had wandered into like a ghost without chains made your stomach clench in fear. There was nothing good about this place. The scent of blood and the lack of light in every stare was telling enough. None of it seemed to bother Natasha, so you threw your chin up and made sure it didn’t bother you too.

“She’s not talking.” Yelena took a long, slow sip of her coffee. The hazelnut scent coated your lungs. She leaned against the wall, staring at the woman as if she’d never set eyes on her in her life. “Are you feeling up for some fun?”

You glanced at Natasha, and it was clear that she wanted an answer from you as well. There was a reason you were Level Seven- you figured. People didn’t make eye contact with you as you

walked through the white halls. They turned the other way and scrambled from the elevator the second you appeared. How naive of you to think that the Black Widow herself was the only catalyst.

“How much fun?” You sounded out.

“As much as you want. Just keep her tongue in her mouth and keep her alive. Leo wants to speak with her, and she can’t very well provide answers if she’s choking on her own blood.”

You made a small noise at the back of your throat and ran your finger over the cool metal pin that was tacked to the lapel of your shirt. Another thing that Natasha swore you forgot. The same logo on your badge that had granted you entry to the Hydra Headquarters was embossed into the golden broach.

Natasha and Yelena wore the same ones. So did every single person that you had passed on your way here. Everyone but Kate.

“You are not excited?” Yelena took another sip, stare boring into you behind her cup.

“She’s not feeling well.” Natasha waved her hand dismissively. “I tried to get her to stay home but she must have gotten wind of the prisoner. She’s been wanting to let off some steam.”

Yelena seemed satisfied enough with Natasha’s answer and you pushed through the door into the interrogation room before they had a chance to question you further. One Romanoff sister was enough, you couldn’t grapple with the suspicions of two.

A look of relief washed over Kate’s eyes for only a moment, a flash that was too quick to catch through the two-way glass. You willed her silence. Her heels dug into the floor and pushed her further back into her chair.

You knew exactly what you were capable of, and it burned at your fingertips. Coulson, you knew, had taken you in years ago after you’d escaped from the very organization that swarmed around you now. You had two choices: Remain one of Hydra’s most feared interrogators, war criminal and enforcer, or give it all up to pledge loyalty to SHIELD.

This world- you had learned- was backwards. More than Natasha Romanoff being your wife. The two of you had a child together, but the two of you served the evil that you had torn yourself away from.

The sweat dripping from the tip of Kate’s nose into the cloying heat that was used as a torture tactic confirmed that your reputation proceeded you. In this world, you hadn’t said yes to Coulson. In this world, you were positive you spit in his face before pilling the trigger.

You got close, used your hand to tip back the chair that Kate was sitting in. She yelped, your other hand reaching up and lilting her chin up to meet your eyes. Kate was trembling and the sight alone was enough to break your heart. You gritted your teeth.

“Where the hell are we?” You whispered to her, so low it came out as an exhale that only you could hear. Her gaze betrayed shock, so you yanked her forward, exclaiming louder. “Look at me!”

“You’re Hydra.” She gritted.

“You’re not. You’ve made that abundantly clear.”

All the while, you pleaded with your eyes. Kate was a smart girl. She was quick to put the pieces together. The two of you were not of this universe. She still had the soft pink scar across her nose from the first mission the two of you had together. The same need for comfort in her gaze.

When she did nothing but blink slowly at you, you reached for the small tray of weapons by her side. Almost on instinct, your fingers wrapped around the sharpest, serrated blade. You willed your hand not to shake as you pressed the tip right under her ear. Again, you made sure you were loud enough to appeal to the Romanoff’s excitement when it came to torture.

“Yelena told me that you have to keep your tongue. But she never said anything about that innocent face of yours.” You moved behind her, lowering your voice to nothing but a murmur. “You can trust me, but I might have to hurt you.”

“You bastard!” Kate pulled on her restraints, jerking forward. “I’d rather die than serve Hydra.”

You grabbed her hair, pulling until she was staring up at you, tears forming against her slate stare. Your stare was hard, nearly unforgiving. Being this close, being back in an interrogation room with a blade pressed ever so slightly to soft skin made you fight back cravings for violence that had been engraved in you since day one.

“Tell me, who sent you?”

Again, you were met with silence. You pushed a scoff from your lips and returned the blade to its rightful place on the tray. Instead, picking up a set of iron knuckles that were already speckled with little spots of rust, pools that had been from previous victims.

You gave Kate an apologetic look, your back to the window, before you used a good portion of your strength to slam into Kate’s ribs. She grunted, falling forward, her chin dipping into your collarbone. You’d heard a dull pop, felt the dampness of a cough of blood. You hadn’t meant to hit that hard, really.

“Aida,” Kate whispered against you “Framework. It’s not real.”

“It feels real.” You shoved her back and she spit to the side, a mixture of spit and blood. Strings webbed from her lips as she leveled you with a glare. You grabbed her chin again. “I’ll get us out of here, but you have to trust me.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “You’re Hydra, y/n.”

The words were unspoken, besotted in her throat. But they were there all the same. ‘Something tells me you like it here.’ In your world- in the one not manufactured by a robot that had gained sentience, you were hard to trust. This version of you fit like a glove, and maybe you did miss it. But the pain in Kate’s stare would haunt you for months, years, perhaps forever.

“Don’t fight them,” You purred “give them what they want.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Leo might have better luck,” you said at a normal volume, straightening up and wiping her blood on her shirt. “I suggest you speak to him unless you want to puncture a lung.”

Kate leveled you with a dark look, one that rang with understanding, and fear. One more hit to the temple and she slumped in her seat, unconscious. A bloom of blood dripped down the side of her face and joined the stream at the corner of her mouth, soaking into her collarbone.

You’d learned long ago that Hydra waited for their prisoners to gain consciousness to continue their assault, their conditioning. Kate succumbing to darkness, if only for a bit, would buy you more time. You quieted for a moment, clenched your eyes shut before you threw yet another punch.

A storm brewed just north, the leaves on large oak trees showing their pale, soft underbellies. It was a sign that rain would fall hard and fast. Your mother taught you to breathe deep on the damp soil. You rolled down the window, letting the water-logged air clear your senses and cool your cheeks.

Natasha glanced at you worriedly and you supposed that you’d never get used to the gesture. It was the one thing in this world that didn’t make sense. The torture, the pain that you caused was expected of you. The love that she showed shook you to your core. It would be easy to stay, to love her back.

You’d paid apt attention to the route that connected your innocent suburban home to Hyda’s base. This was certainly not the way back, but you held your tongue, squeezed it between your molars until you felt the sting prickle at your eyes.

“You don’t have to pretend with me, darling.”

“I know. I should have stayed home today.” you murmured, feeling the soreness of your jaw.

Natasha let out an exhale and pulled over to the side of the road. You took stock of your situation. You were far into the country, the lush green grass and empty highway seemed like as good a place as any to die.

If you were to die in the Framework, would you perish in life too? There was a good chance that even this parallel world had a cruel sense of humor.

Natasha put the car into park and turned in her seat. The sun was just starting to set, turning the sky a toxic shade of orange that reflected off her skin, making her glow ethereally. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t take your eyes off hers. You could drown in the deep fern pools.

When she reached for you, you flinched, burrowing deeper into the passenger seat. A word wasn’t uttered as she reached and gently unclipped the pin that was on your collar. Ever so subtly, she placed it in the center console, giving you much of the same look that Kate had earlier. Pleading.

“I know what’ll make you feel better.” Her voice had dropped a few octaves, nimble hands working at her own pin. She set it not far from yours and lifted her chin towards the door.

“Public indecency, Nat.”

“When has that stopped us before?”

You huffed, and pushed yourself from the car and took a few steps towards the tree line. Gray clouds pockmarked the sky, looking as if they were ready to burst. You knew better than to turn your back on the Black Widow, made-up universe or not.

A glare had etched itself onto her features, and you couldn’t tell if it was sexual or predatory or both. You backed up with each step until your spine hit bark. You could smell the rain now, the honeysuckle from the small yellow flowers intertwined with poison ivy. Sweet with a deadly bite.

She let out a shaky breath. You didn’t move when she pulled the gun from the small space between her back and her jeans. You’d expected the tip of it to be placed between your brows, a quick and easy kill. But, instead, she shoved it into your collarbone.

“Coulson, he said that there was hope for you. That eventually, everything that you stood for would click as the wrong thing.”

“Nat, I don’t understand.”

And you didn’t- not entirely. You could hear the rolling thunder to your left, feel the electricity in the air. When she glanced at the ground, a tear slid down her cheek and she was quick to wipe it away before you had the chance. You heard the shift in the gun, the almost pull of the trigger.

“Every relationship has its flaws, you know? You being Hydra, you living and breathing, and dying for Hydra despite everything that they’ve done was something I could overlook until I saw what you did to Kate today.”  

“You’re a double agent.”

She sniffed, “yeah, baby. I figured you deserved to know the truth before… What you did in there. If you could do that to Kate, then what’s stopping you from doing it to Milla. Our Milla.”

Natasha was sobbing now, swallowing back the noises that threatened to bubble up in her chest. The warm rain had begun to fall in a distant trickle, hitting the leaves with little patters that rivaled your own heartbeat.

“I would never hurt her,”

Your voice cracked. This, you knew to be true. The warmth that flooded you as you gripped the picture frame that morning had bonded you to a stranger. You’d let your fear ebb away at everything else, following Natasha like a sick puppy around the Hydra compound. The gun started to ache against your chest.

Natasha whimpered, closing her eyes and pushing ever so slightly on the trigger. She didn’t believe you. How could she? You still had dried specks of Kate’s blood on your shirt, splattered across your jawline.

“I want to believe you, love. But you’ve been pulling away from me for years now. They’ve gotten into your head, they’ve taken you from me and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get you back.”

You swallowed hard. She’d moved the gun from your chest down to your abdomen, pressing hard enough to make your ribs ache viciously. You muffled your own sorrow, swallowing back the cry that threatened to escape you.

“The day that Milla was born was the happiest day of my life. She was so small, so precious in your arms. When you looked down at her and her fingers wrapped around your own, I saw a glimpse of your humanity. Your love for her, for me. But that’s gone.”

“No, no it’s not. Nat, baby, you have to listen to me.”

“I don’t!” yelled, shoving the tip of her gun further into you. “I’ve waited long enough, y/n. I thought there was a gray area between SHIELD and Hydra and I hoped that you resided in it. You can’t talk your way out of this. Not this time.”

She swiped at her tears, frowning at you. Your shoulders dropped. Her version of you had given her nothing, had pulled away and leaned into the organization that tormented them both. They’d been in love once, you knew.

Natasha Romanoff was a fantastic shot.

You would have two lead slugs in your stomach before you twitched a finger. What was it Jemma said about staying alive in the Framework? Everything was becoming blurry, married with emotion. You could feel the anger, the malice, in this worlds version of you.

“I’m sorry,” you said, throat constricting. “For everything, Natasha. Be careful, for Milla’s sake.”

You shut your eyes, breathing in the electricity in the air, drops of rain soaking into the warm soil under your feet. You curled your fingers into your palms, paying attention to the sting of your nails in moldable flesh. You waited for her to pull the trigger.

The gun had gone off point-blank against your abdomen, filling your mouth with the acrid taste of copper. Doctor Arnmin Zola was a fan of submerging you in ice water when you’d resisted his programming. You’d refused to panic at first, instead, holding your breath until your lungs screamed for solace. But he had grown bored of your game and resorted to other techniques like a serrated blade to the tendons in your shoulder, in your leg.

It was impossible not to simulate drowning when your body naturally wailed in pain. You knew what it felt like to drown, and as you were pulled from unconsciousness with a surplus of warm blood muddying your throat, you recalled that it would do you no good to panic.

You coughed, your lungs crackling and stomach pulsing in pain as your muscles tried to compensate for your adrenaline. A table, you were strapped to a table, and the leather cuffs around your wrists began to tear with your struggle.

“Y/n!”

You could recognize Jemma’s voice, even through the static in your mind. Your world was pulsing, black dots swimming against your vision. There were wires attached to your temples, adhesive pulling uncomfortably at your skin. A strong, familiar hand pressed down on the center of your chest.

“Jemma, what’s happening?”

“She must be going into shock. I can’t see where the blood is coming from.”

Ever the calm doctor you heard the rip of fabric and felt the assault of sterile, cold air against your skin. You knew exactly the source, the wound in the center of your stomach where Natasha- Framework Natasha- had unloaded her clip.

“You have to do something!”

There were traces of worry in the other voice, the one you refused to pin down. It was raspy, familiar, but nothing compared to the pain that choked you mercilessly. You were screaming, wailing as if you were haunting an abandoned mansion. It took you a few barely-lucid seconds to understand the noise was coming from you.

“I’m nowhere near well-equipped. I’d need sedative, and nothing here is sterile!”

“You’re SHIELD, Jemma. You work with what you have. Figure it out. I can’t lose her.” 

Your vision was swimming in darkness, taking away what little clarity of your surrounds you had. It was if that one word, that one person, knew exactly what you needed to hear. Your mind stopped fighting so hard to utilize its adrenaline. You could rest, give in to the quiet, because it was SHIELD.

It was SHIELD.

The dry, metallic taste in your mouth was nearly gone the next time you stirred. Though, you craved a glass of water that would soothe the rest of your discomfort. Your head was pounding, the pinch of an IV had replaced the receptors attached to your temples.

A huge, freezing breath was drawn in with a gasp. You weren’t strapped to a table anymore, no bright and dehumanizing lights above your head. The ones in the room had been dimmed. This was an unfamiliar medical bay, but you had a blanket, and that was more than you’d been offered during your last bout of lucidity.

Jemma stirred in the chair that was positioned next to your bed. Her hair had been combed through with her fingers, glasses on the center of her nose. There were bags under her eyes and out of instinct, she felt across your throat to check the strength of your pulse, despite the machines in her presence.

“Oh, thank goodness. You must be thirsty.” She seemed to read your mind, “I’m afraid you’re not allowed liquids right now. But I sent Agent Romanoff for some ice chips.”

You stiffened at her name, opened your mouth to say something, and then snapped it shut when you realized your body would protest more than you were ready to counteract. Agent Romanoff was here? The last you’d seen of the real her was on a balcony in Amsterdam. She’d slipped out of your room as steadily as she’d slipped in. 

Jemma had shifted onto the corner of your bed. “We weren’t expecting you to get pushed out of the Framework. It’s nearly unheard of.”

“Pushed… out?”

“With Aida’s meticulous planning, she’s accounted for every contingency within the Framework. She’s manipulated Fitz into doing her bidding, and Daisy too. I suppose she wanted to add you to her ever growing list of prisoners but you weren’t as susceptible.”

“She kicked you out.”

Natasha was leaning against the doorframe, her head tilted to the side. There was a glass mug in her hand, most-likely overfilling with ice that you longed for. Still, you tensed at her presence, pushed yourself further into the plastic headboard out of apprehension. She certainly had the upper-hand now.

Jemma noticed the change in your demeanor, the palness that washed over your skin. “Are you in pain?”

Well, yes, but it was more of an impossible longing for that brief moment of domestic bliss that you had with the Black Widow herself. Of course you didn’t regret your choice to defect from Hydra. Your biggest regret was letting Natasha slip through your fingers.

“I’m alright, really. Everything just felt so real.”

She looked at you sympathetically and patted your knee. “We’re still monitoring Kate. She’s given us a few scares.”

“You need to pull her out,” You tried to sit up further but the bullet wound in your stomach had other ideas. Your fingers brushed against the wrapped bandages. You’d broken a few ribs yourself.

“Agent y/l/n we don’t know if that’s safe.”

“Kate being in there isn’t safe. The Framework is built around Aida, and Aida wants to lead Hydra. Kate she’s not- she didn’t wake up in the same situation as me. She woke up a traitor and if we don’t pull her out soon, she’s not going to make it at all.”

Jemma frowned and considered your words, smoothing her hand over your knee before she stood. There was guilt in her posture. The two of you had agreed to be sent in, but she was the one who had done it. You wanted to assuage her worries, but she had shifted into a different vein of thinking; a productive one that left no room for feelings of regret.

She excused herself, leaving you in an uncomfortable silence with Natasha, save for the constant whirring and beeping of the machines around you. She took a few steps into the room, but didn’t get closer.

“What did you wake up to?”

The question hung in the air like a blade positioned over your jugular, it’s own sharpness a reason for your ultimate demise. When you didn’t answer, averting your gaze, Natasha took Jemma’s place on the hospital bed. Her warmth was domineering. She smelled like Framework Natasha, sweet with an acidic bite.

Subtly, you pushed yourself closer to the headboard once more. Of course, with someone like the Black Widow, nothing was ever subtle. It was her job to read and decipher your body language. Even if you weren’t an open book, she still scanned the pages shamelessly.

She scoffed, “I’m not going to bite, y/n.”

“Perhaps not, but will you shoot?”

Her hand tightened on the Styrofoam cup and it produced a small scream of pain that made your ears ring. She stared down at your fingers flush against the gauze, slowly soaking with a horrid red color.

“I did that? In the Framework?”

“I really didn’t give you much of a choice.” You laughed bitterly, wincing at the pain. “I was Hydra and you were pretending to be. I guess even in the perfect world, your pension for doing the right thing will outweigh the wrong. I can’t fault you for that.”

“I would never hurt you.”

The sincerity of her words tilted your world. There was a quiet warmth to them that filled you with the positives of the Framework. Your wife. The mother of your child. She sat in front of you now, being neither of those things.

Natasha picked up a chip of ice and silently begged to scoot closer, you gave her the slightest of nods, let her press the ice against your lips. You were flooded with instant relief. The dryness on your tongue evaporating. You very well could have done this yourself- but there was something intimate about her offer that you didn’t refuse.

“When Simmons told me that you were going into the Framework, I tried to get here with enough time to stop you. But I was off world and when I got here, so were you.” She frowned, placed the ice in your mouth. You bit down on it with a satisfying crunch. “Going in there was foolish.”

“I wanted to save them.”

“You can’t save everyone, y/n. You work for an organization teeming with agents that have a martyr complex as strong, if not stronger, than your own. Yet, you throw yourself into a world where everything is worse.”

“Not everything.”

She drew in a breath and stared down at the cup. The question she wanted to ask was dancing on the tip of her tongue. But she was stubborn, and for anyone but her, so were you. You swallowed, dampening the coolness that coated your throat.

“The two of us, we were married. We lived together in the suburbs and had a daughter… I didn’t get to see her past a family photo because she was at the Barton farmhouse. But she existed, and we existed.”

She blinked at you, and you couldn’t read her emotions. The last time you’d dared to have a conversation with her about being more, she rushed out of the motel queen sized bed with itchy sheets and put her pants on inside-out, just to avoid the implication of an actual date. You’d never asked again, content to repress it for moments of strung-out bliss that she was so good at providing.

“It’s selfish to even think that I was better off there. Everyone else was unhappy, giving in to the darkest parts of themselves. But it was different for us, I think. Because we already give in to the darkness. It’s not having the light that we regret.”

Silence enveloped you both, and you took a sudden interest in the frayed blanket that warmed you. The fabric touching your skin was starting to feel like too much, but you didn’t dare move.

“What’s her name?”

“Hm?” You hummed, glancing up at the woman in front of you who suddenly seemed so small. She had a light rosy blush to her cheeks and was chewing on her bottom lip. “Oh, uh, Milla.”

“Was she… did you like her?”

“I loved her, I’m sure of it. She was my world. Framework you shot me before we made it to Clints farmhouse, but shit, Nat, even looking at a picture of her was earthshattering.”

She let out a watery chuckle and reached out, taking your hand. You stiffened under her touch, so familiar, yet so foreign. Soon, you relaxed, her thumb brushing over the sore bruising on your knuckles.

“I’ve always wanted a life like that, you know? Save for being sleeper Hydra agents. But the white picket fence, and the PTA meetings, a dog, and family vacations to Niagara falls. I wanted it all.”

You whispered. “Wanted?”

“It’s not in the card for people like us, is it?” She used the base of her palm to brush a tear away before it hit the stiff blanket. “Even in a world that’s meant to be perfect, one of us always ends up hurt.”

Her hand was grounding you. You didn’t want to let her go, and she didn’t make a move to pull away. The two of you drank each other in, she smelled like the storm that you were ripped from, and you wanted more of it, you wanted to tuck your head under her chin and pull her close, despite the risk of tearing stitches.

“I’ve avoided you for years, because I’m afraid that if I don’t, you’ll charm me into giving things a shot.” She laughed bitterly, shaking her head. “But watching you nearly die today sobered me up. I can’t lose you, I can’t handle losing you.”

“You won’t, Nat. If we can just give this a shot, give us a try, maybe we can have both.” You gave her hand a squeeze. “One date. I promise, I won’t propose, and I certainly won’t ask you to buy a house in the suburbs with me.”

“You want to go on a date after I shot you?” She scoffed.

“You didn’t shoot me. You got me ice, and that might as well be a ring.” Natasha giggled and the sound made heat rush from your stomach and up to your neck. You were thankful for the thin hospital gowns now. “we won’t know until we try, right? If we could make it work as Hydra and SHIELD, I think we could make it work on the same side too.”

“And if I hurt you?” She asked, “if I get scared and pull away?”

“I’ll pull you right back.” You smiled weekly, “if you’ll let me.”

[nijigasakilove]

Speechless. Best episode of the series by far. All the little seemingly disjointed episodes and case of the week stuff has been building up to this and it paid off wonderfully. We ate so good today.

Episode didn’t start off too different from other recent ones. Some nice Maomao banter, comedic moments and a new case. But at this point it’s become apparent these “random” incidents aren’t so random after all. Everything seems to circle back to ceremonies. Tools, people in charge of them, etc. Someone’s planning something. Good thing we got detective Maomao on the case 😂

I want someone to look at me like Maomao looks at Jinshi when he offers her Ox gallbladders for her experiments lmao. Even Jinshi was shocked by how much her personality changed in that moment. You offer her stuff like that and Maomao will turn into Sherlock Holmes’s real quick.

Ok but the second half of this episode is where stuff started entering WTF territory for me. First of all smart of Maomao to rush over to the temple to try and stop the ceremony before disaster struck. She unfortunately didn’t think thru the fact that she is a simple servant, albeit a highly respected one, but still unlikely that anyone would stop a ceremony because she says so.

I like how you see her kinda try several different methods to get the guard to let her in. Begging, appealing rationally and then of course baiting him into a reaction but did he seriously need to hit her with a weapon?? I’m glad I skipped the preview for this week episode because seeing Maomao’s face swollen and bloodied was wild.

Even wilder that Lakan was there the whole time and could’ve spoke up before his presumable daughter got struck like that.. but I can’t lie he did come in clutch at the end with helping her get into the ceremony and ultimately save Jinshi

Speaking of which, wtf! Why is Jinshi there? Again kinda already could tell because of all the hints and foreshadowing, but this basically confirms that he’s related to the emperor, likely his brother. Which was hinted at back in the first cour with the whole baby fiasco. Think Lakan reaction was all of our reaction in that moment, sheer utter disbelief.

Don’t think I’ve ever seen that look on Jinshi face either. He looked like he was about to cry when he saw Maomao face and leg.. the ending scene of him carrying her leaving a bloody path in their wake with that OST playing.. immaculate. I also liked the imagery of him carrying Maomao the opposite direction of Lakan.

I NEED THE NEXT EPISODE

[fkapommel]

I believe that it is thematically necessary for griddlehark full lyctorhood, or on Harrowhark Christ

Together, Harrow and Gideon complete the symbolism of Christ. You have the obvious Christographic imagery in the start and end of Gideon's life: she is a "virgin" birth, a genetic product of God without any sexual interaction between her mother and father; she was concieved in order to die, specifically to be sacrificed to save the souls - in a literal and metaphorical sense - of the innocent, i.e. non-necros; and she died ultimately by her own choice, dying with the use of pentrative weapons.

But Harrow is literally the "child of man" - she is the cumulation of a generation, not one but many, the many made one. Harrow resembles young Jesus debating and educating the priests of the Temple, already knowing more about the arts of the spirit, of life and death, than his teachers as an infant. Both are prodigies of their craft. She is literally and figurarively carrying her cross all of HtN, the sword physically resembles a cross and is a burden of both her and Gideon's sins. And Harrow, in her soup making era, pulled off the Eucharist, transforming Mithraeum family dinner night into sacrifical, (not metaphysical) cannibalism night. Though both G & H have lain entombed and miraculously resurected, it was Harrow that descended into Hell to interact with the dead (more on this when ATN reveals what she did in Hell).

In one way, this creates friction, a literary rivalry, between the two characters. Who is more Jesus-like? Who is more central to the narrative? I argue that its in merging them that we see a clearer narrative reflection of the scriptural material of both the physical book series and the religio-imperalist model Jod based his empire on. This meta-textual symbolism HAS to be incorporated within the narrative itself given the device of lyctohood, wherein two souls literally meld to become inseperable and indistinguishable. By becoming full lyctors (and seperately i suspect that theyll become perfect lyctor numero dos), the Christographic symbolism embodied by both Gideon and Harrow will become literal and plot relevant, and solidify their lyctorhood not just as a narrative goalpost, a "hell yea" moment for the reader, or a completion of the main narrative conflict of their constant division. Their merging via the Eightfold Path will be semi-prophetic and imbued with religious significance as they both represent a halved Christ.

Gideon and Harrow HAVE to become full/perfect lyctors not just to release the symphonic tension of their constant coming togethers and going aparts, but to complete the image of a divided messiah.

Tldr: yes gideon is jesus, but harrow is jesus too and together they make Double Jesus. Jesus pt. 2 WILL become canon via full or perfect lyctorization!!!

Edit: I do NOT think ATN will /end/ with lyctor!griddlehark; thats just not in character for either of them, nor would that provide a morally satisfying end that is in contrast to Jod's ethos. I believe they will uncover the process and either temporarily inhabit full/perfect lyctorhood, find a way to balance their soul melange equally, or sever their soul bond completely (worst option!) Them uncovering the truth to lyctorhood, however, is necessary to resolve (meta)narrative tension.

[sleepynoons]

Unconditional

Were you worthy of someone as irreplaceable as him?

ooc!gojo x f!reader, sfw

word count: ~2,300

cw: explicit language, body image issues + insecurities, anxiety attacks

notes: wrote this before gojo got... uh... :)) i also wrote this last year when i had a very different understanding of gojo's character than i do now (cross-posted from my ao3), which is why i labeled him as ooc. anyway, this is my love letter to those who struggle with feeling mediocre and insignificant and unneeded.

TO BE clear, it wasn’t like Satoru was never explicit in his affections for you. In fact, it was the entire opposite – he would plant a disgustingly wet kiss on your forehead every morning, dog whistle when you changed for work, and treat your body like a temple as soon as dusk hit. He drowned you in praises whenever he could, but perhaps that was the issue.

Were you worthy of someone as irreplaceable as him? Gojo Satoru may stroke his own ego by calling himself “the blessed one,” but it wasn't like he was wrong for it. In the jujutsu world, he was the industry’s ultimate weapon. Outside, he was a very striking and sexy man – tall, lean, born with the bluest eyes –, and while he was annoying, grating, and reckless at times, he had awareness and compassion that made him personable and trustworthy.

As a matter of fact, that’s what made you take the leap to become his. You're no jujutsu sorcerer, and you learned just how dangerous Satoru’s job was before you even began to develop feelings for him. Yet the self-assuredness he radiated when he spoke convinced you to trust him. You wouldn’t be able to lose him, even if you wanted to – he is the strongest, and he will continue to be so until he dies.

On the other hand, you were… well, you were just you. You weren’t ugly, but you weren’t stunning or gorgeous. You were neither thin nor thick, and you weren’t especially gifted in any particular intellectual matter. At times, you think, had you been specially endowed or gifted in one way or another, you wouldn’t have this internal turmoil. But in reality, your mediocrity was all you had to work with, and you’re not sure if Satoru’s love for you will last once he realizes that you have little to offer him.

“Hon, you’ve been in there for a long time! Is everything alright?” Satoru’s voice and his knocks on the fitting room door break you out of your trance.

You’ve been standing in front of the mirror in the same dress for a few minutes now. The way the dress sits on your frame dissatisfies you, and you realize that that was probably what triggered your spiraling in the first place.

You quickly respond. “Sorry for making you wait! Let me get changed.”

Right. There was no need to get into your head. It doesn’t matter if you were dating Satoru or someone else; relationships, even marriages and years-long friendships, are fragile in nature, so the only thing you should focus on is appreciating the present.

You unlock the door and let Satoru help you gather your things.

“Anything catch your eye?” he asks as he slips your bag onto his shoulder.

“Not really,” you say. “Let me return the clothes first. Meet you at the store entrance?”

He pouts and peers at you over his sunglasses. “Not even the dress I picked out for you?”

Ah, there was more to it. It was because Satoru had specifically picked out that dress that made you hope it would suit you. You smile apologetically at him before heading out.

The car ride is quiet, aside from the occasional hum that Satoru lets out as the speakers play your playlist. You would have felt much more relaxed, too, had you not noticed your boyfriend’s intense gaze on you. He has been looking at you since the two of you left the store, and while you know he has no bad intentions, his stare is only getting more pointed by the second. To any onlooker, they would think you're overthinking it – and maybe they’re right. After all, Satoru’s posture is still casual, and it’s not like there’s electrifying tension in the air. But still, you have been with Satoru for two years now, and your gut is telling you that if you looked back at him right now, it would only prompt a conversation that you weren’t ready to have. So you don’t return his gaze and, instead, pretend to be distracted by the streetlights and waning moon.

It isn’t until the two of you return to your shared home that he breaks the silence.

“What’s on your mind, hon?” His voice is gentle, laced with concern, gentleness, and curiosity. His tone is coaxing you to be truthful, but a discomfort sits at the bottom of your stomach that holds you back.

You don’t say anything as you take off your shoes, aligning your heels next to each other on the shoe rack. It’s only when you stand back up that you say, “I… I’m not sure if I want to talk right now, Satoru."

He stills behind you, a second longer to tell you that he’s thinking, before he gives you a brief back hug.

“That’s alright. Take your time,” he whispers. You lean into his touch before he pulls away.

Then, he begins to whistle and muses on about dinner as he strides towards the living room. All you can do is follow as you shake your head and chuckle under your breath.

The evening is spent with warm food and a drama playing in the background. The two of you cackle at the silly antics of the characters (“I could probably bench press the antagonist,” Satoru groans) and talk about how the jujutsu students are doing (“You should find some time to let the first- and second-years actually enjoy the amusement park,” you chide).

However, the insecurities never quite leave you. When your boyfriend moves to wrap his arm around your waist, you immediately lean forward, away to grab the remote control to turn the TV volume up. When he tries again – this time, resting his hand over your knee – you switch your posture and adjust the cushion in your lap. You hear Satoru grumble with displeasure but elect to ignore it.

Eventually, after several more attempts of trying to initiate any semblance of physical affection, Satoru finally groans aloud. He reaches over you to grab the remote, turns the TV off, and takes your face in his hands. Now you’re forced to look at him, and without his sunglasses to mute the blue of his eyes, his stare sends a jolting shock through your body.

“Hon, I know I said I would be patient, but this is getting out of hand.” You squirm a little, but his hands are sturdy in cupping your face in place. Like a child, you simply huff and close your eyes. “Oh, c’mon! At least look at me!”

You huff again. “No, I don’t want to.”

It’s silent.

Another moment passes, and Satoru lets go of your face.

It’s too silent.

You wonder if Satoru has teleported away. You’re sure he’s playing with you, but what if he just… gave up? Just like that? Maybe something just clicked in his brain, and he left because he realized you were too naïve and boring and normal for him?

You’re stubborn, but the urge to know overwhelms you and you open your eyes.

He’s still there. Satoru immediately falls back, laughing and rolling on the floor.

You grimace. “I wish you would be that quiet on a daily basis.”

“Oh, no, you don’t!” Satoru’s laughing so hard, he’s beginning to clutch his sides.

You roll your eyes and begin to stand up. You feel a hand clutch at your wrist, and you glare down at the man(child). “I’m going to clean things up here while you waste away on the floor.”

“That was hilarious!”

“The only thing that’s hilarious here is your shit sense of humor.”

You don’t resist as Satoru pulls you down, wrapping you in his arms as you both lie on the floor. He’s still chuckling, but he’s turned his attention towards soothing you, running one of his hands through your hair and fiddling with the hem of your shirt with the other.

“Are you ready to tell me what’s on your mind?”

You hum, your smile melting off. You bury your face in the crook of his neck and mutter, “Why do you love me, Satoru?”

“I don’t know, there’s too much to love.”

“Cheesy. Bad answer. Give me actual reasons.”

“Where’s this coming from?”

You let out a strangled, muffled cry. “I asked first, Satoru.”

“I'll only answer if you give me context.”

You peer at him, and you see a patient and loving look settle on his face. You don’t want his expression to turn into one of hurt.

Finally, you admit, “I don’t know, I just don’t really get why… you’d date someone like me. It’s not like I’m useful in any way.”

Satoru’s hands continue their motions. He’s unfazed, almost as if he expected you to say this.

“Do you think people love others based on their utility?” he asks.

“To a certain degree, yeah.”

“Okay, so you’re saying you don’t add any value to my life?”

“Well, I hope I do. I just… don’t really know what that value is exactly.” Satoru sighs before lifting both of you into a sitting position, though you’re mostly in his lap. “Listen, I can’t speak for others, but I know I don’t love others just because they do things for me. Hell, Megumi was literally a child when I took him in. What could he have possibly done for me?”

“Be an adorable, chubby baby?”

Your boyfriend rolls his eyes. “Not the point.” You acquiesce. “All I’m trying to say is that our relationship isn’t transactional.”

You huff again. You know you’re acting childish. “But that doesn’t explain why you chose me. Like I’m not special, Satoru. I feel so… unworthy.”

Satoru’s face immediately drops, and he’s holding you tightly. “Why do you feel that way, hon? Am I not loving you properly?”

“No, not at all!” you say. “Satoru, no, sweetheart, this has nothing to do with you. You’re just so good to me. I-I don’t know what I did to deserve all of this.”

You sigh and slump into his hold. Tears are prickling in your eyes, and you feel your face heat up as you overwhelm with a discouraging mixture of shame, embarrassment, and guilt. Yet you hold back because this conversation is already as humiliating as it can get.

“But that’s what I’m trying to say, hon.” Satoru is cradling your head as he speaks to you softly. “My love for you is unconditional. I love you because I am in love with you.”

You shake your head and ask, “In love with what? Mediocrity?” Satoru takes a sharp inhale.

You continue, “Satoru, I’m no model. I’m also not a genius. I’m not particularly talented in anything or especially beautiful, and I’m not even a part of your world. Literally, what is there to love –”

“No one else has loved me for who I am until I met you.”

You look up at him quizzically.

“Listen.” Satoru readjusts your position so that the two of you are sitting facing each other. This time, he's not looking at you. Rather, he looks down at where your knees touch and interlaces your hands with his. “To the higher-ups, I am just the pillar that maintains balance. To the kids, I’m their mentor. And to the others, I’m just a colleague. Not a single person in my life has loved me so deeply before.”

“But what if you had met someone before me who could love you just as deeply, if not more?”

“But I didn’t. And that’s all that matters now.” Satoru takes your hands fully into his. Staring straight at you, he says, “You took me in, knowing all the dangers that come with being my partner. Maybe in another timeline, another universe, you aren’t my lover. But in this one, you are, and I have no intention of letting you go.” He pauses for a brief second before muttering, voice cracking, “I can’t lose you.”

The tears you had held back come streaming down, and you have to bite down on your lip to stifle your sobs. You manage to whisper back, “I can’t lose you, either.”

Satoru kisses you once, twice, thrice. Gentle touches on your lips, only filled with adoration and longing. He continues to press his lips around your face, mumbling praises between each of his actions.

“Beautiful.” Kiss on your forehead. “Compassionate.” Kiss on your nose. “Thoughtful.” Kiss on your temple. “Bright.” And his flurry of kisses and compliments don’t stop until you stop crying. Eventually, you start giggling at the light, feathery sensation, and when he is about to mutter something else, you take the chance to kiss him back.

It’s nothing sensual or breathtaking – just your lips slotted firmly and perfectly against his. But you feel so grounded and content, and the insecurities and anxiety that have been bothering you all day finally fade away. When you break away, Satoru gleams at you with pride and admiration, and you beam back at him.

“Feeling better?” he asks. You nod fervently before giving your boyfriend another quick peck.

“Thank you. Always,” you say.

His eyes crinkle at the sight of you happy and energetic again. “Of course, hon. Anything for you.”

It’s difficult to not fluster at his words sometimes, so you turn away and hide your face behind your arm, denying him any satisfaction.

Satoru whines and says, “Hey, lemme see you. I deserve it for being such a good boyfriend.”

You respond cheekily, “I’ll only admit that you’ve been a good boyfriend if you also wash the dishes.”

“Hey, that’s not fair!”

You giggle as you slide off the couch. “I’ll leave it to you!”

[konigbabe]

John Price headcanons (SFW & NSFW)

Author: @konigbabe

Pairing: John Price x f!reader

Warnings: domestic!Price; fluff; nsfw [smut] below the cut

A/N: A small bunch of relationship-related headcanons I came up with ever since my obsession over Capt. Price came to life. This is my own idea of how Price is in a relationship! NSFW under the cut.

masterlist • request • faq • taglist • AO3

─ ୨ SFW ୧ ─

Okay, so you two definitely met either during one of his missions with TF 141 when you were assigned to help or at some pub near his place.

If you two met at the pub, he made the first move almost immediately after spotting you.

"And I thought the scotch was the only good thing about this place."

For the fun of it, you dodged his advances at first but at the end of the day, you agreed on a date.

If you two met on a mission, he didn't act on his attraction towards you until the mission was successfully and completely over. He was your captain and a professional after all.

You said the L word first despite him knowing he loved you since your first kiss.

He doesn't hurry anything. That's why it took him ages to ask you to move in with him.

He's not home too much and always getting called back to work but when he is at home, his days revolve mostly around you.

You love dancing with him even when he's just standing in the middle of your living room while you circle around him dancing to modern pop. He prefers 80s and 90s music - what he grew up on - but still lets you have a blast with to Lady Gaga or Beyonce.

He loves cooking you breakfast, especially because he wakes up before you and won't wait for you to cook for him.

He's a tea drinker while you love your cup of coffee.

You always wear his shirts at home - they are comfortable and warm and if he's not home, they are your reminder of him.

Sometimes, he lets you trim his beard in the morning - you still in his old shirt that you use as pjs, sitting on the bathroom counter with his calloused hands running up and down your thighs and his eyes fixated on your focused gaze as you ever-so-carefully slide the blade on his cheeks.

He's a silent observer - watching you dust, cook, read or do your favorite things, he will always be around, his eyes never leaving your figure as you move around the house.

Price isn't a big fan of PDA but he goes absolutely feral when someone hits on you outside. He wraps his arm around your waist or holds your hand or even gives you a kiss just to prove that you belong together.

Not a big fan of dates outside the house - he would rather cook you a romantic dinner and run a warm bath with rose petals and candles just so you two can spend the evening together, without the prying eyes of other people.

He always buys you candles even tho you never lit them (except for the dates).

He's absolutely a sucker for skinship even inside the house - his hands always on your waist, fingertips grazing your arms, casual kisses on temple/forehead/jawline/neck or literally anywhere he can reach, "thank yous" always followed by a peck on the lips.

The primal urge you give him whenever he sees you doing your evening yoga to relax your muscles before bed...

─ ୨ NSFW ୧ ─

...and you know what your yoga routine does to him so you use it as a weapon whenever you want to fuck.

Price is a switch but still remains a power bottom.

He's a pussy-pleaser and a gentleman inside and outside the bedroom - ladies always first (preferably multiple times).

He loves eating you out while you're sitting on a table or the edge of the bed.

He prefers deep penetration positions where he can see your face and touch you - his ultimate favorite is the cowgirl.

He secretly likes it when you take control from time to time, holding his hands above his head while sinking deep on his cock as he watches you take all of him, the feeling of proudness only adding to his pleasure as he snaps his hips upwards, getting a satisfying moan out of you.

He always, always makes sure to clean you out with his tongue afterward as you lay on the bed, completely submitted to his mercy.

Both of you are big on aftercare.

He's a gentle dominant lover most of the time but there are days, usually right after he comes home from work when the only thing he wants to do is spend the rest of the day balls deep inside you - you two don't even need to be fucking, he just wants your cunt to warm his cock, to feel the tight squeeze of you.

During those days, he sometimes goes totally primal in bed - sure, he makes sure you come before he's even inside you but after that? You feel like nothing but his own sex toy as he manhandles you into any position known to humankind and uses your body to chase his own desired high. And you taking it all makes him love you even more.

The first time he wrapped his fingers around your throat and the sound you made, it caused him to lose his rhythm as he watched your pupils grow and moans become louder than he ever heard.

He loves it when you deepthroat him but never forces you to do it.

He was the first person to make your legs shake during sex - you always believed it was only a myth until you met Price.

He might need some time recovering after each round but that man can go for HOURS - he's a captain for a reason after all.

[sorceresssundries]

The Serpent

Pairing: Gale x Female Tav (Durge) - SFW

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary: A Macbeth inspired one-shot. Tav, now free from Bhaal's control, urges Gale to abandon his devotion to Mystra to forge a new path alongside her. Inspired by Act 1, Scene 5 and Act 1, Scene 7

A/N - Not going to lie, nervous about this one! Macbeth is, in my opinion, one of the greatest texts ever written. Obviously, this is inspired by and not a direct interpretation - however there are a number of lines/references to the play, as well as the obvious overlapping of themes - Ambition, devotion, temptation, the supernatural... etc Please leave a comment or reblog if you enjoyed it! I'd really love to hear your thoughts about this one!

Tav had died. 

Gale had watched it happen. He had been roused from his charmed unconsciousness just in time to witness the cruelty of Bhaal in all its vengeful savagery. Tav’s strong, supple body had contorted and snapped with crunches that echoed through the gore-stained, cavernous temple. He watched, mouth agape and eyes wide, as she had denied her birthright and been drained of her father’s blood. Bhaal’s retaliation, the scream of Tav's death, slipped between his ribs and twisted the life from his devoted heart. The world slowed, darkened, and quieted as she lay in the stillness of her god's rage - small and broken. Gone.

The scent of dank and decay staining the very air of Bhaal’s temple clotted in his throat as he lost all breath. Canker and gore settled under his fingernails as he gripped the stone altar with such fervour his fingers threatened to snap. The light from his world had been extinguished. 

And then...

She came back. Like it was nothing. Like the reigniting of a snuffed-out candle still pouring smoke. Withers reclaimed her from the afterlife, and she was… glorious...different. New. She was full of hot fury and cold vengeance, the two forces pressing together to hiss its way from between her bared teeth as she rose again.

She had stepped towards him, ignoring all others, her foot crushing down upon the skull of her slain sister, splitting it into unrecognisable shrapnel. She did not even blink. Her blood-soaked hands cupped his face. Her eyes, once familiar and warm, looked as though they had opened for the first time. 

The two lovers found themselves alone in a dingy temple chamber, the room cold and bare, where Tav had dragged him for a private reunion. It was the longest they had been apart since their meeting, and they both ran their hands over each other, searching with damp eyes for any injury, desperately needing to touch after days apart. They had thought each other dead.

Gale didn’t know how long it had been since Orin had taken him, but it felt like an age. Tav kissed him furiously with blood on her lips, and her taste was iron and fire. Eventually, she pulled away to search his face once more.

"Are you alright? Did she hurt you?" Her sharp voice was barely a whisper.

"I thought he had taken you from me," he said, pulling her back against him. "For a moment there I..."

He remembered the look on her face when Bhaal’s edict was laid before her, the way her eyes flickered and jaw tightened the way he had seen so many times before. The hard, set expression of a person once again thrown against the relentless tide of another exhausting decision. Despite her previous promises that she would deny her heritage, he didn’t know which way she would be swept.

How easy it would have been for her to accept the offer of a God. She could have been unstoppable, the weapon of the dread lord himself. And yet, she had cast his gift aside and paid the ultimate price. She was free. His brave, fearsome warrior was her own, and he loved her twice over.

Her wide, frantic eyes darted between his. Her pupils were small, as though filled with too much light.

"I am sick of being the puppet of another."

Even the way she spoke sounded different. He had expected that if she turned from Bhaal’s influence and became her own person, that person would be soft and forgiving. There was no gentleness in her at this moment, only fury and determination. For what though, he wasn’t sure.

"Tav, you must rest," he murmured as her shaking, stained hands pushed against his robes, her lips meeting every inch of skin she was unveiling.

"How intoxicating it is, to be free. To know that not even a God can claim me."

"Hush, love."

"You could join me in this feeling. We could share in it. You could cast aside your God as I have mine."

His hands froze at her waist. She was drunk on battle and blood. Her words rattled inside his head, but he tried to push them down and pay them no mind. He must be clear, he must be focused, and he must be the pillar of strength for her to lean on.

"Let us rest back at camp. We can’t speak like this, not now."

"Why? You fear your mistress will hear your heretic lover’s siren song of blasphemy? The only god in this place is murder. Her weave may still dance across your fingertips, but I assure you there is none of her presence here. You are without her, as it should be."

She disentangled herself from his grasp and began pacing in front of him, a recently unleashed animal - suddenly wild and hungry.

“They dare to bend us upon their altars, so let us snap. Screw your courage to the sticking place, Gale. What are you afraid of?”

Gale had fallen in love with Tav in spite of the bloodthirsty shadow that skulked behind her, stealing her light and darkening her dreams. He had always thought that part of her was severable, but what if it wasn’t? He had thought light would filter into the gaps Bhaal left behind and soften her sharp, blood-laced blades. But she wielded them still, with such focus she may as well be forged of steel herself. 

Maybe… this had been her all along, and he was shocked at how much it did not alter his feelings. He loved her then, just as he loved her now. There was a slice of sickly guilt as he considered what that said about him, but it was soon stitched up and forgotten in the wake of relief that she was still so full of life.

He loved her, she was alive, and she had snapped the shackles which bound her

Was she right? Could... perhaps... he dare to do the same?

It would be a lie to pretend he had not thought of it, that he had not lain awake night after night with the thrum and pulse of bruise-purple malice waiting within him like impatient thunder. His bitterness made the wound glow, the tendrils carved into his frail, mortal flesh coiled and squeezed the softness from his heart. It beat like a war drum as he recalled the written words of Karsus. He had pulled the forbidden knowledge from the pages of his annals and gorged himself on it, tasted and savoured each promise it held. Transcendence. Freedom. Immortality. 

A vision had slinked into his thoughts when sleep eventually found him, clear and seductive. Him, with skin of divine silver, crackling with jolts of unconfined magic. The mark of the orb still burned into his almighty form - a reminder of what he had endured, a mocking gesture to the one who had thought it would be his undoing. The crown of Karsus rested atop his head, where it belonged.

He was the embodiment of a God with the scarred, yielding heart of a mortal. Had he not earned it? Had he not served and worshipped and waited. Even in his confinement, in the pit of his solitude, he had prayed. He had begged. He swore then he would never inflict that torture of silence upon anyone who loved him so, he could be so much more merciful.

The decision lay before him like a dagger.

“Mystra… is everything I have known. She is the magic I wield, and the weave I master. She honoured me.. Loved me…”

His voice sounded small as it echoed back to him from cold, hallowed walls. 

“And abandoned you! For what? Wanting more? Loving her too fully? Devoting yourself too intently? You risked your life to bring her that restless monster which has sunk its claws into you, and she has left you to rot with it. Are these the Gods we are destined to serve? Cruel and unforgiving? We could be better, we could be more.” 

She was wringing her hands together. Her small thumbs massaging into palms calloused from the tight gripping of swords, rubbing against the blood which sat there. Orin’s blood. Bhaal’s blood. Her blood. Over and over she rubbed her hands, as though trying to remove the bloodstains from her skin. Her eyes never left his.

“You were the one who told me of the Annals of Karsus. You came to me, coveting it's dark potential. You begged me to hand it over, and I did. I saw ambition greater than even its author in that moment. I sensed your dark plot as you were spinning it and now you would relinquish that ambition and let it slip through your fingers like bone-dust?” She cradled his face between her sore hands once more, to make his uncertain eyes meet hers. “What has changed, that makes you break this enterprise to me?”

“I.. What if we fail?”

“How can we fail? I told you that I would not let darkness consume me, that I would be greater than the urge which pulsed through my blood and clouded my mind, and look at what I have done. I gazed into the eyes of my father, the one who whetted the blade of my ambition, and I cut my own bonds with it. I am severed, an undone thing. I slaughtered my blood-kin, tore her monstrous form apart till she was naught but sinew and bones. And I would do it again. I would dash her brains out over and over, upon each and every wall of every temple in every city if that is what it took to fulfil my oath to you”

She smiled, with what remained of her softness. “Untwist your knotted stomach and detangle your nerves and we’ll not fail. We were made for this.”

He closed his eyes in focus. The vision swirled again behind his shut lids. Silver skin, crackling magic, a re-forged crown…

She held his hands in hers and kissed them, softly, reverently. The blood on them smeared across his pale fingers. 

“You said you knew how to reforge the crown. So, do it. Claim it. Take it for your own and grant us an everlasting future, away from the shackles of those who would dare to bind us.”

He moved to push strands of gore-matted hair away from her face, so he could see her eyes. Look at her fully as he made his decision, as he grasped the dagger before him. 

“And what of Karsus? Of his folly? Is that not a lesson to be learned?” He said, his voice stronger now. “What do I have that would cause me to succeed where he failed?”

Her smile was wide - so wide it split open a wound at her lip, dripping blood down her chin. 

“Me.”

[aeternallis]

A Deep Dive: Kim’s Fight Scene in Yok’s Bar

I’ve been thinking about this scene a lot lately, and I just have so many thoughts on it. 

Like low-key, but imo what makes this scene so mesmerizing yet also chilling at the same time is the fact that Kim never eliminates the possibility of Chay turning around at any time and witnessing Kim kill in order to protect him. 

Whereas Porsche tends to protect Chay by keeping him from seeing the reality of the mafia life (and tragically blindsides both himself and his brother because of it; Chay because he remains ignorant of his new environment and Porsche because his judgement of the risks in keeping Chay ignorant is impaired due to his overprotectiveness), Kim protects him only from the danger of it.

It’s an all around interesting narrative choice from BOC, especially considering that it’s Kim’s one fight scene in the entire series. 

I’ve seen many posts on here before of how Kim leaves the dead bodies for Chay like a feral cat or that he really took the mantra “nobody disturbs my man” up a notch or two, and while I definitely agree with all that on a surface level, I can’t help but think there’s so much more going on. Dare I say, maybe even a little manipulative? Hmm. 

Because for reals, there’s a reason why this fight scene makes such an impression on so many fans--the KimChay fans (including myself), in particular--and I think it’s because so much of the context of the fight, as much as the fight itself and the events leading up to it, reveals so much about Kim’s character post-break up w/ Chay. 

Like yes, there’s the aesthetic reasons and ofc, Jeff Satur and that beautiful face of his that looks like it was sculpted on a Saturday by the gods, but there’s just so much to be said in the way he’d fought and more importantly, ended the fight. 

@wildelydawn​ wrote up an amazing meta post  about how Kim fights, for which I highly recommend y’all read if you haven’t already. I definitely agree with the idea that Kim likes to play with his prey when he fights; he knows how to improvise and use his environment as sources of weapons, and he’s definitely got a bit of a sadistic streak going for him, lol. 

Now, where am I going with this? Well, let’s very briefly look at the events leading up to the fight: from the moment they break up in ep 11, to one of the very last scenes in ep 13 when Kim finds out that Porsche and Chay have left the tower, somewhere in between those events, Chay had become Kim’s singular goal and most important priority. Whereas before his goal had been to investigate Porsche and Chay’s connection to the Theerapanyakun family, directly after the break up is when this plotline falls through because his investigation hits a dead end at the temple. 

For me personally, methinks it’s the moment he finds out that Chay skipped his college interview in ep 12 and what a massive fuck up he’d just committed. As much as I adore him as a character, I don’t really think he knew the repercussions of his own actions until it was too late, alas. Ultimately, he’s not responsible for Chay’s choices, but he can’t deny that his previous actions influenced them. 

Whether it was wanting to confess his own feelings to Chay, or perhaps setting him straight because he skipped his college interview, or wanting to keep him safe, or even just to talk to him and clear the air--the point is, regardless of his reason(s), getting to Chay becomes his next target. And more than that, once Kim sets his crosshairs on a goal--especially on this one person he’s got a romantic attachment to--he is positively ruthless. 

You barely see it from how fast the camera cuts out, but if you pause at just the right moment, you can see how Kim’s expression is absolutely seething when Korn stops him from going to look for the Kittisawasd brothers (or perhaps even just Chay himself). 

This is the expression of someone who’s more than willing to obliterate anyone who gets in the way of him and his goal. This is an expression of utter resentment. This is the expression of someone who’s itching for a fight, because the universe dared to get in between him and his goal. 

(Side bar: I’m pretty sure part of the reason Jeff got the role of Kim Theerapanyakun is because of how intense his method acting can be. He doesn’t have many roles under his belt just yet, but if you haven’t seen He She It, I recommend giving it a go. His acting in that mini drama is a little rough around the edges, but the raw intensity by which he plays the character of Mike definitely highlights some of Jeff’s natural talent. He knows how to act with his eyes and his entire body, and when given the right director to guide him, as we’ve seen when he portrays the role of Kim, he truly thrives in his role.)

Yet still, for all his anger at being prevented by his father from getting to his goal, he’s mindful enough to know that he can’t just go against his orders either. Korn is the enemy of an entirely different caliber, and Kim perfectly knows how and when to pick his battles.

But it isn’t until we see him in the next ep quietly watching Chay from the bar that another facet of his character growth is revealed to us: by this point in time, he’s comfortable in his feelings for Chay enough that he can finally allow himself to luxuriate in his presence, even whilst knowing he’s in the metaphorical dog house.

His arms are propped up, his legs are loosely crossed, his body language is relaxed, whilst still very much aware of his surroundings. Keep in mind, this is the first time since the morning of the kidnapping that we see him perfectly content in Chay’s presence, now fully aware that there’s no reason for lies between them anymore. The only one left is the one he has to fix.

Yet, after all this time of trying to get ahold of Chay ( @bitacrytic​ wrote an interesting piece about Kim’s unsettling behavior when he realized Chay had cut him off, which I also highly recommend), why didn’t he take the opportunity to talk (or whatever it is he intended to do) when he was finally within sight? The camera shot of Chay talking to Yok on his phone, as well as of Kim sitting on the stool, lingers for a good 20-25 secs, so the audience is given a hint that Kim has been there for a while.

So why not take advantage of this chance?

And the answer to this question, I think, is what’s at the heart of the matter and basically defines the connotation of the entire fight.

Kim is not a fool, he knows for the time being he’s number 1 on Chay’s shit list. And because of this, it may be a stretch to say it, but I will anyway: perhaps off screen, from the moment he had him within sight, Kim may have realized that it would do him no good to talk to Chay at that moment. Not when there’s an imminent threat lying in wait, not when the heartbreak is still too raw for both of them. 

Most of all, Chay has no reason to trust him right now; it would just be a repeat of their disastrous confrontation in the club.

And he knows all too well that he cannot afford to sabotage what truly little standing he has left in Chay’s good graces. So he plays it cautious and takes the next best thing: he’ll bask in Chay’s presence, keep him company (albeit one-sided). If you scroll back up real quick and see his expression in the promotional image, it’s almost as if he’s thinking to himself, ‘keep your eyes on the prize--on him. he’s the only one that truly matters.’ 

But even so, Chay’s safety is his priority for the moment and there’s just so many reasons Kim is itching to vent some anger and frustration: the boy he loves has cut him off completely, Daddy is hatching up some plan again, besides the ongoing 4D chess game he’s got going on with all his sons, his investigation led him nowhere. Yet lo and behold, here comes some goons who not only disturbed his peaceful serotonin-gathering session (unbeknownst to Chay), but are also looking to either use the love of his life as leverage in a conflict that barely has anything to do with him, or just outright kill him. 

Really, no one can blame Kim for going a little overboard, not when these poor suckers basically offered themselves to him on a silver platter. Lol 

While I won’t go too deep into analyzing the physicality or choreography of the fight itself, I’d like to instead focus on all the things Kim chose/chose not to do, which again, says so much about his character and brings me back to my overarching thesis for this long ass rant: Kim never eliminates the possibility of Chay turning around at any time and witnessing Kim kill in order to protect him.

Kim doesn’t call out for Chay to run: this makes sense, it’s a practical choice; he doesn’t want these men to draw their attention on Chay. So long as they’re focused on him, so long as he distracts them--he can kill them one by one. 

Kim doesn’t draw the men away from the bar: an interesting choice that seems like it never crosses Kim’s mind. He’s more than agile enough to have led them away from where they’d entered, yet he keeps them all inside. 

Kim didn’t wait for them outside: another interesting choice. Arguably, it would have been more efficient for him to have taken some bodyguards and do a stake out. Further still, it’s also arguable this choice is more an emotional one (he wants Chay where he can see him, dammit), but that’s up for debate. 

Kim waits until the last possible second to use a gun: a risky choice, but he pulled it off quite well. He doesn’t go for the gun until the goons have him surrounded within Chay’s vicinity, so he goes for fast kills to end the fight even if it’s not his personal preference. Imo, it’s very obvious throughout the fight that he finds some satisfaction in twisting limbs and breaking bone, so good on him that he got to indulge for a bit. 

And finally, immediately right after the fight, he never tries to pull this one over Chay’s head: 

This one is pretty self-explanatory, I think. Hahaha. 

But after Kim shoots the last man, he doesn’t linger for too long. Which again, why doesn’t he take advantage of yet another chance that’s fallen onto his lap to talk to Chay? The danger has been dealt with for now, after all. Why not at least attempt at some sort of clean up, maybe pile the bodies on one corner so Chay doesn’t trip over them? :’D If not to talk to Chay, why not at least linger in the shadows, to make sure Chay is all right (he’s bound to turn around eventually)? 

Instead, he walks away, still panting a bit from the fighting and without a doubt, from the adrenaline rush. His body language is hard to read because his silhouette is blurred, but it’s at this point that BOC could have easily concluded this scene. 

They could have left this scene as is, and made the aftermath of the fight as vague as possible, because for what it’s worth, it would have still accomplished one of the main points for KimChay: Kim’s priority is Chay’s immediate safety. 

But it’s not the end of the scene. BOC made damn sure that we would see the aftermath, and with it--the changed dynamic between these two characters and the very implications of it. They didn’t leave it vague whatsoever, they pretty much shoved it in our faces. 

This scene--this f*cking scene RIGHT HERE--blows wide open a potential trajectory of KimChay’s love story if/when we ever get a season 2.

I think for the first and only time in the show, this shot of Kim sitting on the stairway, enjoying a cigarette after a murder spree, mind you—is the first time we see him fully stripped away of any pretenses in not only the way he loves and protects someone, but how far he can get lost within his own emotions when he has no reason to hold back. He doesn’t even look the least bit concerned for Chay’s emotional well-being, because that’s not his priority when he chose to leave those men lying on the bar’s floors. 

If anything, in this specific situation, not holding back benefits him greatly. 

For the first time, his character in the show is explicitly elevated to the same level of batshit insane as Kinn and Vegas, perhaps even beyond them.

We’ve seen how WiK had won over Chay, of how tender Kim could be with him, but the fight in Yok’s bar and the conclusion of it afterwards, demonstrates how far Kim’s sharpest, most deadliest aspect of himself—Kimhan, will go in order to win back Chay. Even in trying to get Chay within his orbit once more, he remains just as calculating: he doesn’t let his own gut instinct (actually wanting to talk with Chay) get the better of him; he uses the situation, in this case--even Chay--to give himself the best advantage. Can you imagine how terrifying that is? 

It’s no wonder Korn calls him the strongest, yet most dangerous of the Theerapanyakul heirs: regardless of whether Kim holds back or not depending on the given situation, he remains just as sharp, just as deadly, just as cunning. In the first KP novel, Korn presents a question to the readers indirectly: in their world, is love a weakness or is it strength?

For Kim, the answer is obvious: it’s a weakness, but he won’t allow it to be one for himself or for Chay. 

And due to all this, there’s only one conclusion I can come up with as to what this shot of Kim sitting on the stairway outside Yok’s bar was trying to accomplish:

Kim—this conniving, devious, gorgeous motherfucker—absolutely wanted Chay to see the dead bodies now littering Yok’s bar.

In fact, I can even argue that he seemed to have been waiting for confirmation that Chay saw his “present.” That he had all the time in the world to make sure his bae got a good look at his kills.

Why, you ask? Simple. Kim trusts Chay’s backbone made of steel. He trusts him to be able to handle it. Why else would he let himself enjoy a smoke after killing 6 people in 6 mins? Why doesn’t he look concerned?! Why not give Chay some comfort, goddamn...! We know this fucker is in love w/ Chay, the dumbass was crying over his polaroids earlier that day. //sobs 

But in all seriousness...Kim has firsthand experience of going up against it, doesn’t he? He himself saw how determined Chay could be when he cut himself off entirely from Kim, both from when he pulled his hand away in the club and then blocking his number a day or two later. I don’t necessarily think it’s that Kim overestimated Chay’s love for him, but rather he initially underestimated Chay’s resilience in keeping him away after breaking his heart so terribly.

This son of a bitch (affectionate) sobbed his pathetic heart out after finding out Chay blocked his number, probably took a good look at himself (and Chay’s cute polaroids), and came to one conclusion: “yeah, Chay can handle me. I can go all in now.”

In fairness, Chay’s steadfastness can only improve and strengthen from here on out. Kim--although in love with Chay, but does have his moments of volatile moods and cold verbal wit--is not an easy person to love, as Chay is slowly finding out the hard way. He must be able to confidently call Kim out when the latter needs to be reminded to respect him, that Chay will not take any of his shit. 

Ironically enough, in creating an original story for these two characters in the show, it also brings them closer to the dynamic they have in the novel, imo. I myself have only read parts of the novel, and because we barely see KimChay in the book, it’s hard to tell how much closer show!KimChay is to novel!KimChay, but there’s hints of some similarities here and there in terms of character dynamics. Make of that what you will~ 

Let’s play Devil’s Advocate for a hot sec though, and address the rebuttal: “but won’t this only drive Chay further away from Kim and a life in the mafia?”

My answer to that is: will it though? Chay has more reasons to stay in the world Porsche forced him to enter than he ever has in leaving it. BOC cemented this fact when they decided to keep Namphueng alive, nevermind the fact that Chay’s one positive, healthy parental figure, is now the minor family head and as much as he’d like for it not to be true, he’s still in love with Kim. 

But to reiterate, Kim trusts Chay’s backbone made of steel in a way that Porsche doesn’t (again, due to aforementioned overprotectiveness, which also serves as the fundamental difference in how they both protect Chay). But the reasoning behind placing his trust in Chay isn’t entirely selfless either. 

He trusts Chay to be able to handle the disturbing scene of the dead bodies he left behind, because he has something to gain from it.

By leaving behind the dead goons for him to find, Kim inadvertently breaks another piece of Chay’s upright perception of the world, ensnares him further into Kim’s reality—and most of all, to Kim himself.

It’s a terrifying level of honesty (and wooing??) coming from Kim because it’s so brutal in its execution. What makes it even more frightening is that he’s genuinely doing this out of his desire to be with Chay. His priority during the fight is Chay’s safety, yes, but his overarching goal after their break up remains the same: to get Chay back. 

It drives home the fact that although Kim loves only a handful of people in his life, he loves them fiercely to the point of questionable insanity.

[dathomirdumpsterfire]

Something is hunting Darth Maul across the stars.

A presence he cannot touch, whispers that chase him from sleep. Answers seem to lay in a place he cannot go... at least, not alone. Before the Jedi and the Sith, before the Republic or the Empire, before the ancient Je'daii even, there were force users building temples and communing with the cosmic energies.

Somehow, even back then, there was a rule of two.

For Ben Kenobi, getting up each day is difficult enough, nevermind facing the past. He has one singular goal left to him: to be a guardian. A very distant guardian. Between the echoing emptiness of his cave and the war-torn memories that haunt him, he really just wants to be left alone.

Too bad for him that sleep-deprived sith lords aren't likely to take no for an answer.

[The long awaited sequel to Desertification is here!]

🔥🔥🔥 Read chapter 1 on Ao3, or scroll below the cut! Updates on Tuesdays.🔥🔥🔥

Bridges are a beautiful weakness. 

This one is massive. Natural stone that reaches across a wide span between stronghold and barren cliff. The architecture is sharp, angular, and modern, with little in the way of ornamentation. It is simply a functional pathway, the sole point of access for a utilitarian facility. The forces garrisoned here would have little trouble defending this chokepoint, under typical circumstances. 

A zygerrian guard rises off the ground, clawing at their neck, while the next shoots wildly, hollering for backup. Blaster bolts curve off unnaturally into empty air. The first alien loses consciousness and slumps, still airborne. Their rifle clatters to the stone. The second turns and manages to flee two steps before they are swept sideways off the bridge like a leaf in a storm. They plummet, screaming, twenty stories down and into the lava below. With a lazy gesture, Darth Maul sends their strangulated comrade tumbling after them. 

Lords of the Sith truly cannot qualify as ‘typical circumstances.’ 

He begins forward again as the next defenders rise to stop him. The formation they take is practiced, but he can see their quaking knees, feel their fear in the air. 

If these fools truly wished to challenge him, they would be far better served by calling their forces back and turning the compound’s anti-ship cannons on its own infrastructure. Burying him alive might actually slow him down… but the cannons remain fixed on the sky, and figures in golden armor pour out onto the wide, windy bridge. 

The price of such short sighted arrogance will be their lives. 

Maul finishes churning through the first of the stronghold’s defense forces. He scatters a forward line of pikemen, shielding himself from blaster fire using stones torn from the structure itself. The occasional bolt slips past these rocks, but he simply bats those away with his saber. 

The slaughter of their frontline gives the next group time to prepare. He is met with a more cohesive unit, backed by snipers. The cover fire does them little good. Maul ruins their formation by blitzing carelessly into the middle of it. His red blades lay into the panicking bodies around him and parry the long range shots back to their origins with impeccable soresu. 

While he picks off the remaining snipers in their nests with a few force-propelled rocks, a new line of troops with energy bows come forward, firing in rapid sequence. It is… quaint, he thinks. Few have the dedication to make such a weapon into a formidable challenge, and these guards could not have matched the skill or power of a dathomirian archer on their worst day. Perhaps it is because these soldiers lack an edge of desperation -for food or survival- whenever they practice their aim?

Regardless, their skill or lack thereof is ultimately irrelevant against a man who can predict where they will fire.

Maul reaches the halfway point unimpeded, and the zygerrians finally switch tactics to something more innovative. The remaining guards part, and a set of twins emerge to close with him instead.

Each wields a halberd tipped by shining blue energy blades. They fight together, resplendent in fanged grins and fine armor. Their movements, obfuscated by swirls of shimmering gold cloth, complement each other with the skill born of what must have been decades spent training in tandem. 

Facing such talent is the highlight of his efforts thus far, but even these warriors cannot match a sith. He tears their blades from them, and stabs each twin through the chest with their siblings' match. They die propped up on the hafts, slouching toward each other. 

Blaster fire starts back up, and Maul returns to working through the rest of the chaff. The air begins to reek of desperation so strong it can be smelt over the sulfur. Acetone-bright and cloyingly sweet. 

Quick as a lightning strike, an electro-whip cracks near his head with a sharp snap-fizz . A waft of ozone fills his nose, and the sith's forward momentum stutters to a halt. Resentful yellow eyes lock on the offender and he bares sharp, iron-stained teeth at them. The tall zygerrian only snarls in return.

Hatred rolls off Maul’s shoulders like heat waves in the force. That energy coalesces, and entropy descends on the whip-wielder. Their fur begins to dissolve as if they were being nibbled on by acid that simply does not stop, and the muscular form falls to the ground, writhing and screaming. They melt into naught but blackened ash under Maul’s baneful stare.

He turns to continue on, sunk too deep in the flow and lust of combat to examine the demise any further. 

Slaves are thrown at him next, driven out onto the bridge as his assault nears the stronghold's three-story double doors. An effort he hesitates to call a 'tactic'. Half of the scrawny chattel fall to their bellies before he has even reached them, quivering and silent as they choose the potential wrath of their masters over certain death upon his blades. 

Those who fight he kills as quickly as they come. Living and dead alike are left on the ground behind him, forgotten as soon as they pass out of sight. 

More guards, with flashier armor and even finer weapons are next. Insignia and marks of esteem decorate their shoulders; the royal guard, here to die for their liege. 

A sai cha strike with his saberstaff, and a head hits the ground before the body knows it is dead. Cho mok and cho mai, double-disarmed at the wrist. Their owner stumbles and falls off the bridge in shock, fixated on the remaining stumps. An angled shiak, down through the ribs just far enough to boil the blood in their lungs. Mou kei to the left leg, and another trips off the side to join the rest in immolation. Maul spins in a flourish of beautiful juyo at the gate.

Sai cha. Sai cha. Sai cha. 

Then there are no more guards. 

He pushes the double doors open with the force, and smiles to behold the reason he came here.

"Prince Trifenra," his croon echoes in the silence of the throne room, "I warned you not to cross me."

The lone zygerrian slams a button on the podium beside them, and the floor falls away with them on it. Maul gets to the edge in time to be stymied by a bulkhead closing the hole over. He sneers at it in annoyance, and starts cutting through with his lightsaber. 

Twenty seconds, and he completes a circle of molten metal. A kick with his cybernetic foot sends the cutout falling, revealing a web of catwalks over a field of lava. He jumps. 

The sith searches the platforms as he freefalls, but Trifenra is nowhere to be seen. 

Maul lands on a catwalk with a heave of force to lessen the impact. His eyes drift closed, chest expanding as he breathes in, swaying in whichever direction feels right, focusing… focusing…

The force whispers to him that his prey is that way .

Maul jumps the rail and bounces between causeways, reaching the correct one and pelting down it. The feeling ends at an arch built into the rough stone walls. Thick metal doors, locked tight.

He snarls and starts cutting again, a small circle just large enough to admit him. The sith punches this cutout, and somersaults through without touching the cherry-red edges. 

On the other side are holding cells. Row after row, multiple levels of hexagonal doors stretch out from the entry, each sealed by lambent red. Some are empty, some not. All the prisoners are exotic in some way. 

Maul glances over the occupants as he passes, walking deeper into the facility. Trifenra is here, he can sense it.

The chamber widens into a large, multilevel room around a center platform. A dead end. The prince's possible hiding places have multiplied yet become limited at the same time. Maul's mouth quirks at the corner.

"Come out, come out. Wherever you are~," he sings in a sardonic drawl, like this is a game of hunter and prey between younglings.

The airscrubbers hum through the walls, creating a deep resonance just on the edge of hearing. Despite what must be a robust air recycling system, this room remains steeped in the scents of the enslaved; bitterness and despondency, melancholia and hate. A multispecies cacophony of emotions that make his sinuses itch. 

He hears wheezing laughter, like the rattle of dry grass. 

"Ssssweet, ssssweet, ssssinger…" calls a hoarse voice from one of the cells. The force twinges, a plucked string.

The source is… across the room, on a higher level. Maul can sense the force warping in on itself somewhere nearby. Curious, he leaps closer to it, up a story and over.

The cell on the left is marked as 214, and it contains a nautolan in a rare carmine color. She is heavily pregnant, and pressed as far to the left side of her cage as she can be. 

The cell on the right is marked as 216. It holds a crab-like species he does not know, with a shell that looks like molten, living gold. It is quivering in the back of its container, in the rightmost corner.

In the center cell is a woman with wide pink eyes and an abundance of platinum hair. Her skin is white, like a palliduvan, but with an oily, iridescent sheen. She sits in the center of the room, naked, hugging her knees and shaking with that dry, rattling laugh. 

Her pink gaze zeroes in on him, and her smile grows…and grows… and- 

Lips spread like split meat as she grins from ear to ear, her teeth needle sharp. Conversely, her eyes are kind above the unnatural-looking maw. 

"Blesssssed sssssinger~" she croons sweetly, "the lit-tle king plays a trick  on you. Deceitful. Rude. Give him t-to me and I will blesss your path!" 

She shouldn’t be able to move her jaw like she is, with those facial muscles severed. The force perhaps, magic or alchemy of some sort. He considers her, and the offer, mildly. "I am not easily tricked.” 

She smiles still, and says nothing. Her presence feels like a tangle of razorwire, writhing and clingy. 

"Hm.”

Maul walks away, stalking the metal floors and surveying the open room with thoughtful eyes. The prince is here somewhere, but there are enough strange projections from the prison's myriad occupants that it feels… cloudy.

A mirialan glares at him as he walks past their cage. The man floats a foot above his bed, rail-thin and cross legged.

A dry-looking quarren ignores him in turn, crying weakly into their hands.

He laps the room, and finds himself at the center of this fusion of zygerrian and modern architecture. A control panel sits on a dias, with a map of the cell block and various monitoring systems running. 

"Hm!" he comments, "How convenient." 

He taps the icon for cell 216 and tells it to open. 

The sound of a ray shield powering down is shortly followed by more dry, wheezing laughter. He turns to see the woman step into freedom and launch herself across the room, trailing yards of platinum hair. 

She lands in front of 107, and presses herself as close to the ray shield as one could be without burning. 

"Knoc-kk knnnock!" she croaks. 

The cell's occupant shrieks, falling back in their terror, but then scrambles to the shield again to yell up at him. They appear to be a salenga, but something… something is off. Maul squints, trying to pinpoint-

"I will pay you whatever you want! Anything!"

He cocks his head. Curious. How would a slave pay- 

Oh. Interesting. 

"Put her back in her cell and I will make you royalty! I swear it!"

The unnaturally white creature hisses, no longer laughing.

It is Maul who chuckles, walking to the edge of the center platform and clasping his hands behind his back. "A marriage proposal is it, Prince Trifenra? Now that is a… curious bribe."

He waits for the hope to glimmer in their eyes, then waves a hand in a grand gesture. The console registers a command from a finger press that is not there, and obeys it.

All of the cells open. 

The salenga shrieks again, and melts into a clawdite changeling as they zip out and go streaking away. They make it all of three strides before disappearing under shimmering hair and vengeful pink eyes. 

The next few minutes involve teeth, tearing, and unhinged sobbing. Maul watches for a moment as dozens of aliens flee on either side of him for the exit, then grows bored and turns to his comm. Dryden's secretary answers for him, a softly spoken pantoran with a penchant for ancient art. 

"Hello sir. My apologies, Mr. Vos is in a meeting at the moment. Should I get him for you, or can I take a message?" Sochu asks.

Maul waves off the first. "Simply inform him that the treachery has been dealt with, and he has my permission to begin renegotiating with the other offer."

"Very good, sir. Anything else I can do for you?" 

"Mmno," Maul says and hangs up.

His timing is good. The room has cleared and the strange woman is levitating up to the central platform, slathered in blood all down her front. Something wet and purple is cupped in her palms. She lands daintily, and he raises a brow. 

"Ssssinger, c-c-clever son~ You figurrrred out the trick-k, denied the trick-ksster. Gave him to us ," she smiles sweetly, too many teeth in her mouth. 

Maul hums, watchful.

"A gift!" she declares, and holds out… it’s a liver, or part of one. 

He accepts it, amused, with the smallest of bows. “My thanks.” 

The woman giggles like rotten wind chimes and turns to leap off the platform. She lands below and goes padding toward the lava flows, leaving a trail of red footprints smeared by passing hair in her wake. 

Maul considers the slick bulk of the organ in his hand. Dense, warm, and evenly toned purple. He holds it up and gives it a sniff. It smells healthy- clean blooded and rich, and the fight did have him feeling peckish.

"Mm… waste not, I suppose.”

He chooses a corner and slides his teeth in. The woman’s sharp, clinging darkness in the force gives a final twist and melts away. Maul chews thoughtfully on his way out of the compound, disregarding the blood that drips off his chin. His robes are already too stained for a bit more to matter. 

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

Hey, i follow your blog for several weeks now and think you make some fresh of breth air.

What is your opinion on aang and his arc in general ? Are you critical of the lion turtle at the end and think it was a selfish moment when he did not redirect lightning back at ozai?

Despite of all the shipping wars :)

Let's make a distinction clear here: the lionturtle was poorly set up, that is a totally valid complaint. Claiming that a traumatized 12-year-old, who as a bonus was raised to be a pacifist, is being selfish for not wanting to be people's assassin for hire is complete lunacy. He's a child, a person. He's not your super weapon/soldier, and his responsibilities as the Avatar don't change the fact that what people are expecting of him is unfair and deeply traumatizing.

And actually, Aang's role as the Avatar and the way people misunderstand it ties into why I think his arc was great: he has a duty to the world. The WHOLE world. Fire Nation very much included.

He isn't there to wipe them off the face of the Earth in retaliation for what they did to his people. He isn't there to have them be ruled with an iron fist for the crime of being born in the wrong place/culture, regardless of how complicent every individual was, or wasn't, in the war. He isn't there to disregard anyone's humanity and inherent right to life and dignity, not even Ozai's, for "the greater good."

He is there to bring back harmony. To help put the Fire Nation back on the right path. To make them stop being a threat, yes, but through REDEMPTION, not violence.

That's why he learns that the kids were taught lies basically from birth, and that any form of self-expression, and even old Fire Nation traditions, are being suppressed. Why he turns to Iroh for advice in Ba Sing Se even though the old man was constantly helping Zuko. Why he could see the lonely, angry, sad child hiding behind Zuko's hostile behavior. Why he too needed to see that fire could be both life and death, and thus should not be hated but also not used caressly, because even though he is an air-nomad before anything, that is still his element too.

The Fire Nation's original culture might not be his primary identity, but it is part of him, and he's one of the few people alive that were there to witness it in it's true glory - and the only one who hasn't had time to get used the idea of them being nothing but a threat now. That's why Aang is the perfect guy to save the day. He won't let them do evil, but he won't let their potential for good be ignored.

And it's sooooooooooooooooo satisfying to see the Fire Nation needing to rely on Aang's air-nomad culture to help. To see him prove Ozai was wrong to think they were just dead-weight in the world, that they had nothing of value to offer (and grabbing the fucker by his stupid beard).

To see Aang, who lost his people, saw sacred temples and relics destroyed, and that even had to hide his arrow, screaming to the whole world that the wisdom of the airbenders was the one hope for a brighter future and being validated by the narrative for it was fucking beautiful.

Aang was a child that was constantly told he had to sacrifice everything, his beliefs, his peace of mind, his culture, his attachment to the people he loved, what was left of his childhood and potentially even his own life for everyone else's sake, and that he was selfish if didn't like that shitty deal the universe offered him. And in the finale he said "FUCK THAT NOISE!" and that was thing that ultimately saved everyone, not just himself.

He is the poster boy for "Fuck you! It's real easy to talk about sacrifices for the greater good when you're not the one who'll have to sacrifice anything!" and I love him for that.

Seriously, it's crazy how fans that go "Urgh, just betray your beliefs and traumatize yourself for everyone else's sake already, you selfish asshole" don't realize they're unironically talking like an actual cartoon villain that is know for being cowardly and cruel.

[yxlnst]

Elysium's Embrace: A Journey of Love and Adventure

idol!Jeonghan x reader!y/n

🎀 Summary 🎀 : Jeonghan and you wake up in a video game, face challenges together, and grow closer, ultimately returning to reality united.

🧸 Word Count 🧸 : 1,285

Fluff!!

🧸 - - - - - - - - - - - - - 🎀 - - - - - - - - - - - 🧸

The sun had just dipped below the horizon, casting a golden hue over the city as you and Jeonghan sat in your living room, controllers in hand. You had both been obsessed with the new virtual reality game, "Elysium," an open-world adventure where players could explore vast lands, fight mythical creatures, and complete various quests.

"Alright, let's tackle this last mission before calling it a night," Jeonghan said, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "We need to find the Crystal of Eternity to level up our characters."

You nodded, equally excited. "Let's do this!"

Hours passed as you navigated through dense forests, fought off dangerous beasts, and solved intricate puzzles. Finally, you reached the ancient temple where the Crystal of Eternity was said to be hidden.

"Here it is," Jeonghan whispered, his character reaching out to grab the glowing crystal.

As soon as he touched it, a blinding light enveloped both of your characters. You felt a strange sensation, like you were being pulled into the screen. The world around you spun, and everything went black.

When you opened your eyes, you found yourself lying on a grassy field, the scent of wildflowers filling the air. You sat up, disoriented, and looked around. The landscape was eerily familiar.

"Is this... Elysium?" you whispered to yourself.

"Y/n, are you okay?" Jeonghan's voice came from behind you.

You turned to see him standing there, looking just as confused as you felt. "Jeonghan, what happened? Where are we?"

He looked around, his eyes wide with realization. "I think... I think we're inside the game."

You both stared at each other in disbelief. How was this possible? One moment you were playing a video game in your living room, and the next you were actually inside it.

"We need to find out what's going on," Jeonghan said, his voice determined. "Let's explore the area and see if we can find any clues."

You nodded, feeling a mixture of fear and excitement. Together, you started walking through the lush landscape, taking in the vibrant colors and surreal beauty of Elysium. It was like stepping into a dream.

As you walked, you noticed that your surroundings were incredibly detailed, far more than any video game you had ever played. The trees rustled in the wind, birds chirped overhead, and you could even feel the soft grass beneath your feet.

"We need to be careful," Jeonghan said, glancing around warily. "This world may look beautiful, but it's filled with dangers."

You both knew the game well, having spent countless hours playing it. You understood that while Elysium was a place of wonder, it was also home to fierce monsters and treacherous terrain.

As you ventured deeper into the forest, you heard a rustling noise behind you. You turned to see a group of goblins emerging from the underbrush, their eyes gleaming with malice.

"Get ready!" Jeonghan shouted, drawing his sword.

You reached for your weapon, realizing with a start that you had the same equipment and abilities as your character in the game. You unsheathed your sword and stood back-to-back with Jeonghan, ready to face the goblins.

The battle was intense, but you and Jeonghan fought with skill and precision, just as you had in the game. The goblins were tough, but you managed to defeat them, your adrenaline pumping as you stood victorious.

"That was close," you said, panting. "But we did it."

Jeonghan nodded, wiping sweat from his brow. "We need to find a safe place to rest and figure out our next move."

You continued your journey, eventually coming across a small village nestled in a valley. The villagers looked at you with curiosity as you approached, their expressions wary but not unfriendly.

"Excuse me," Jeonghan said to an elderly man sitting by a well. "Can you tell us where we are?"

The man looked at you both with a hint of suspicion. "You are in the village of Eldoria. Who are you, and where do you come from?"

You exchanged a glance with Jeonghan, unsure of how much to reveal. "We're travelers," you said cautiously. "We're trying to find our way back home."

The man's expression softened. "Well, travelers, you are welcome here. But beware, these lands are dangerous, and not all who come here find their way back."

You thanked the man and decided to stay in the village for the night. The villagers were kind, offering you food and shelter. As you sat by the fire in a cozy cottage, you and Jeonghan discussed your situation.

"We need to find the Crystal of Eternity," Jeonghan said. "It's the only way to get back to our world."

You nodded in agreement. "But we need to be careful. We don't know what other dangers await us."

The next morning, you set out with renewed determination. You knew that the journey ahead would be difficult, but you were ready to face whatever challenges came your way.

As you traveled through the vast lands of Elysium, you encountered various characters and creatures, each with their own stories and quests. Some helped you, while others tried to hinder your progress. But through it all, you and Jeonghan grew closer, your bond strengthening with each passing day.

One evening, as you sat by a campfire under the stars, Jeonghan turned to you, his eyes filled with a warmth that made your heart flutter.

"Y/n, I know this isn't how we planned to spend our time together, but... I'm glad we're in this together. I don't know what I would do without you."

You smiled, feeling a rush of emotions. "I feel the same way, Jeonghan. This journey has shown me how strong we are together. I wouldn't want to face this with anyone else."

As the days turned into weeks, you and Jeonghan continued your quest to find the Crystal of Eternity. You faced countless challenges and dangers, but your determination never wavered.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you reached the ancient temple where the crystal was said to be hidden. It was a grand structure, its walls adorned with intricate carvings and glowing runes.

"We're here," Jeonghan said, his voice filled with awe.

You nodded, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension. "Let's find that crystal and get back home."

You entered the temple, navigating through its labyrinthine halls and solving complex puzzles. The air was thick with tension, and you could feel the weight of your journey bearing down on you.

At last, you reached the inner sanctum, where the Crystal of Eternity lay on a pedestal, glowing with an ethereal light. You approached it cautiously, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Are you ready?" Jeonghan asked, his hand reaching out to yours.

You took his hand, feeling a sense of calm wash over you. "I'm ready."

Together, you reached out and touched the crystal. A blinding light enveloped you once more, and you felt a strange sensation, like you were being pulled back to reality.

When you opened your eyes, you were back in your living room, the familiar sounds and smells of home surrounding you. You looked at Jeonghan, who was still holding your hand, a look of wonder on his face.

"We're back," he said, his voice filled with relief and joy.

You smiled, tears of happiness streaming down your face. "We did it, Jeonghan. We made it back."

He pulled you into a tight embrace, his warmth and presence reassuring you that everything was real. "I couldn't have done it without you. Thank you for being my strength and my hope."

As you held each other, you realized that your adventure in Elysium had changed you both. You had faced unimaginable dangers and challenges, but you had emerged stronger and more united than ever.

From that day forward, you and Jeonghan cherished every moment together, knowing that no matter what obstacles came your way, you would always have each other. Your love had been tested in the most extraordinary way, and it had triumphed, shining brighter than ever.

And as you looked into Jeonghan's eyes, you knew that your journey together was only just beginning.

[tinyozlion]

“And Its Name is επυον”: Where Did Epyon Come From, Literally and Figuratively?

On the pillars before the Oracle of Delphi, the navel of the ancient world, an inscription carved read: “know thyself”. 

Inside the Oracle’s inner sanctum sat the Pythia, bent over smoking fissures in the temple floor, breathing the sacred poison that would let Apollo in. It is a dreadful ecstasy– dangerous, body-wracking; gaining knowledge of the future shortens hers. 

Far in the future, a man exiled to a gilded oubliette speculates his own worth and relevance to history, surrounded by ghosts, becoming a ghost himself. Alone with his doubt, he looks for the god in the machine, seeking answers: “Why do we fight? For what should I fight?”

But the god he built is silent.

The world of automated warfare becomes increasingly bleak and devoid of reason. He is terrified that the pilots who so inspired him will lose their purpose just as he has, and join him in miserable freefall. 

Out of this wild abyss Treize builds the Epyon. Not for himself–  he will never pilot it. There is almost nothing of Treize in this suit, not that we can recognize from its exterior. It is not the heroic Tallgeese with its Attic crest– it is something clawed, stygian, one of the bat-winged Erinyes with a torch and whip. 

Epyon is not a weapon; it is a punishment. It is retribution for a world that has forgotten its humanity, its rites, its propriety. For its pilot, it is a scourge– the cracking whips of the Furies in their brain, driving them into a frenzy. Madness. Holy poison, to let the future in. 

Its name, επυον, is meant to mean "Next", or “After”. 

To guide the future, you must shorten yours. 

You must not be a victor, when you pilot this suit. 

Where did Epyon come from, in the mind of its creator? Everything we see of Treize forms a cohesive aesthetic: Roses, swords, romanticized old-world decadence, heroic motifs, gold, blue, white, red. Where did this thorny, tyrian-purple chimera live in him? Shouldn’t we have seen it lurking somewhere? Or does it seem to come out of nowhere precisely because he designed it to be his antithesis? 

Whether or not “Frozen Teardrop”, the novelized sequel to Gundam Wing, can be considered canon is a source of contention amongst many fans, but looking at it purely as a way to judge script-writer Katsuyuki Sumizawa’s intentions when he wrote the series, I find many parts of it to be informative. 

To paraphrase the fan-translation, it states that Treize found blue and white to be emblematic of heroism, colors associated with victory, and so their complementary opposites, black and red, could be seen as the colors of the defeated, associated with loss. For Treize, defeat and loss are tied inexorably to his vision of the future: “it was the defeated who changed the era and began the next”, as it says in the novel. 

Epyon is meant to negate the ideal of the conquering hero, the counter for a world beset by victorious cowards who command legions of dolls to do their killing and dying for them. As Treize designed it, Epyon has no projectile weapons; it is a suit purely for one-on-one combat, a suit that demands you risk everything when you fight.

No surprise then, that he gives it to the first Gundam pilot he meets– remarkably, the one whose self detonation caused everyone in his orbit to question their involvement in the war-- though one gets the feeling that any of the pilots would do. Treize hopes that Heero will use the Epyon to navigate the chaos to find the true purpose he is fighting for, and determine what course the future will take. 

But Heero has never been concerned with this sort of navel-gazing, and has no interest in discovering whether or not battle itself has a grander purpose or ultimate meaning. He fights the enemy in front of him and will continue to do so until either his life, or the supply of enemies, runs out. Heero does not overthink the future; he does not dwell on consequences. Treize does nothing BUT overthink the future and consider the fractal spread of consequences. They are mutually incomprehensible to each other, but perhaps not at cross purposes. 

Heero enters the cockpit convinced that he is expendable and redundant, that his only goal is to survive. When he returns from his test flight in Epyon, he can barely stand or speak. From that point on, he thinks about the future, about who and what will be important for what comes after the fighting has ended.

Eventually, the Epyon passes to the only person more disillusioned and estranged from his sense of purpose than Treize is– to Zechs, where it seems it was always meant to go.

• How And When Was Epyon Built?

Whew! Now that the metaphysical stuff is out of the way, let’s talk about the physical development of Epyon, and how that must have come about.

As we know, after his confinement by Romefeller, Treize, lurking around with the lights out and questioning his place in the universe, uses his now copious free time to build this gundanium dominatrix using only his laptop and the power of depression.

Now, even if we are to accept that Treize is a programming and engineering savant on top of all his other accomplishments, it would still be beyond even His Excellency’s considerable talents to pull an entire Gundam out of a hat in the basement of an abandoned Disney castle. 

Where did he get the gundanium? The crew? The construction equipment? Isn’t he under house arrest? Why would Romefeller leave him unsupervised to build a demon robot that predicts the future? 

These questions have been annoying the fandom since 1995. But, if you look carefully (VERY carefully, one might even say obsessively), it's possible to find the connective threads that make Epyon’s construction less of a magic trick. 

--Let’s go through the list of these unclarified canonical whoopsie-daisies in order of most to least glaring!:

If Treize is being kept in confinement in the Romefeller headquarters, why is he allowed to design and build a mobile suit?

*:･ﾟ✧ Our princess is in another castle! *:･ﾟ✧

The mansion that Treize goes into during episode 27 is NOT the castle that we see him in during episode 34. This switcheroo would probably have happened sometime in the MIDDLE of episode 27– which I guess might as well be the case, since episode 27 is a dreamlike, nonlinear stroll through Treize’s spiraling existential crisis.

Between Treize being confined in the Romefeller headquarters and developing the Epyon, Treize is in fact liberated by the Treize Faction and moved to the blue-roofed castle in the middle of the forest near the Luxembourg Base, which is where the faction has made their headquarters.

Presumably the crew and equipment needed to actually manufacture a new mobile suit were available at the base.

Treize’s confinement at this point is largely self-imposed; he could rally the factions loyal to him and make a move on Romefeller (as he does later), but he doesn’t believe he has the ability or the right to do so. Instead, he builds Epyon, and just kind of winds it up and lets it loose on the world to see if anything interesting happens.

And it does! The interesting very much happens.

Where did Treize get the gundanium alloy to build a Gundam?

The shipment of gundanium that Heero destroys in episode 4 was being transported on an OZ carrier, and it had to have been going somewhere. This gundanium was ordered WAY before Zechs’s gundam rebuilding project, so its purpose is left unidentified– someone in OZ clearly wanted to experiment with this new material for developing mobile suits. 

Adding to that, the gundanium that Zechs had access to when he was rebuilding the Wing Gundam had to come from somewhere, and that somewhere was probably the very deep pockets of a guy who likes to keep his best friends happy.

Regardless if any given shipment of gundanium made it home in one piece, what it means is that OZ has a way of obtaining gundanium, and if OZ has it, then Treize has it.

How would Treize know how to build a Gundam?

During the process of rebuilding the Wing Gundam from the ground up, Zechs and his engineers would probably have kept extensive records and made new Gundam blueprints that Treize would know about. Also by this point in the series, several Gundams and their pilots have been captured, and the Gundam’s engineers forced to build Vayeate and Mercurius for Lady Une. OZ would therefore have all the data they need to build a fresh Gundam, and once again: if OZ has it, then Treize has it.

Okay, but how would Treize know enough about the ZERO system to be able to reverse engineer it?

As mentioned in the entry about the ZERO system, the AI of the Taurus mobile suits eventually becomes the Mobile Doll AI. This is a predictive battle algorithm OZ already had in the works long before the Wing ZERO was discovered. 

Additionally, Treize is likely to have had access to the data being recorded by Trant while his team was researching the ZERO system, even if he was getting it covertly via a Treize Faction infiltrator, or a member of OZ who was still loyal to him. 

How does Treize know so much about designing mobile suits and their cockpit systems?

One has to remember that Treize was the instructor at Lake Victoria Base (the same position Noin holds when we first meet her in the series), responsible for training OZ’s elite pilots, and (according to “Frozen Teardrop”) involved with crucial tactical developments and improvements to OZ’s lineup. 

Yes, he’s a fancy-pants aristocrat, but you can’t say he doesn’t know his way around a mobile suit. He’s best friends with Zechs, after all– nerds of a feather flock together.

But how would he know to program the security system to accept Heero Yuy?

Well, ever since he was captured and hospitalized Heero’s biometric data would have been on file with the Alliance military, and therefore available to OZ, and therefore (again) available to Treize– so by now His Excellency will have certainly been made aware that Heero’s bones run on a third-party Adobe Photoshop plug-in.

But who cares about that crusty old data? All of the Gundam pilots have been accounted for and fingerprinted and scanned and microchipped up in Fortress Barge! They could probably 3D print Heero Yuy out of PLA and sell action figures if they wanted.

As to why Treize picked Heero specifically, I have two theories:

The first is that he simply programmed the computer to accept any and all Gundam pilots that might want to drop in for tea and assassination (and probably Zechs too, just in case he was in town).

The second is that Dorothy’s presence in the Sanc Kingdom means that Treize has a little bird keeping him informed about everything happening there, including that both Heero and Quatre are attending the Peacecraft’s School for Wayward Radical Pacifists. 

True, Dorothy is technically there to be her grandfather Duke Dremail’s little bird informant, but Dorothy’s loyalties are her own, and she very much likes and respects her cousin Treize. She’s probably beaming news of the Gundam pilots directly to him on their shared eyebrow-frequency the whole time she’s there.

Eyebrow-to-eyebrow communication.

As one final note– I’m aware that the more recent manga adaptation, “Glory of Losers”, contains its own version of events that attempts to reconcile the building of Epyon with other events in the series. However, while I appreciate that they made an attempt to resolve the big, lingering Epyon Questions, I find that like most of their retconned material involving Treize, I… 

I don’t like it. 

Or to put it less personally, I think it creates an even more dubious timeline of events that is somehow less credible than the original. In this version, Treize begins the planning and construction of both Epyon and Tallgeese at the beginning of the series, before the original Tallgeese has even been brought into play and LONG before the ZERO system is introduced– somehow with the foreknowledge that these suits will be vital for the development of the new era. 

I think this is a contrived way of making Treize into an omniscient puppet master who was retroactively steering everything in the correct direction from the very beginning, and was therefore always right and always assured of his role in the future– and I think that does his character an incredible disservice. In a story about the deep significance of changing people’s hearts and minds, the fact that Treize is retroactively scrubbed of his flaws and morally questionable decisions runs counter to the central thesis of Gundam Wing, and what has made it such a memorable story. 

“Glory of Losers” is a beautiful manga and I do think it does an incredible job of presenting the rather garbled narrative of the series in a new light, with some truly masterful tweaks that add depth to the characters and story. But it’s also guilty of some egregious changes to canon that serve no purpose other than to reconcile the main series with the events of “Frozen Teardrop”, and as an excuse to redesign all the mobile suits to be cooler and sell more model kits.

…On the other hand, in this version of the story, Treize was already familiar with Tallgeese from his earliest days in OZ. 

This is obviously another very unnecessary and suspiciously convenient retcon that I feel is in dubious taste– HOWEVER: it does mean that Howard gets to meet young whippersnapper Treize Khushrenada, who just so happened to be the one to ask him to paint it white because he thinks one day he’d like to pilot a Big Damn Hero Machine himself, and he wants it to be a more "elegant color." 

And that is the funniest shit I can possibly imagine. So I’ll give it that.

I'd like it to be at least 20% more elegant

[gm-warlic]

DragonFable Timeline

Hello again my friends! Now that Book 3 is complete, I am back with an updated timeline complete with holiday events! It isn't perfect, as I am missing the most recent holiday events (really hoping I can fit those into Book 4 or the space between Books 3 & 4), but I think this is a pretty accurate timeline overall, perfect for all those wanting to play the game all the way through now that Book 3 is finished.

(One thing to remember is that not all holiday events happen exactly on the holiday itself, and not all are explicitly a year after the last event. I have placed certain holiday events in the same year where it makes sense to do so)

Book 1

Year 1

A Hero is Born Bored

Oaklore

Falconreach

Undead Assault

Sepulchure's Flying Fortress

Ice Dragon War

Frostval Chapter 1: A Frostval Tale

(This technically isn't actually the holiday itself, but instead the event that leads to the Frost Moglins creating the holiday, so it does not necessarily have to happen at the same time of the year as the holiday. After all, Jesus wasn't born in December)

Dragon Egg Saga

Robina→The Hatching

Sunbreeze Grove

DragonLord Training

Willowshire Burns

Amityvale

Haunted House

Crystal Clear Lake

Graveyard (Meet Artix)

Sir Ano's Quests

Beach Invasion 

Amityvale 

Vampire Tower

War at See

Mogloween Chapter 1: First Mogloween

Saving Lymcrest

Thankstaking Chapters 1→3

Sunbreeze Grove

Titans of BattleOn

Frostval Chapter 2: Out in the Cold!

Year 2

Wind Orb Saga

Water Breathing Potions

Nythera Saga

Stocking the Shelves→It's Elementary!

Wind Orb Saga

Pirates vs Ninjas War→Sepulchure

Hero's Heart Day Chapters 1→2

Lucky Day Chapters 1 & 3

Nythera Saga

Potion Mastery

Darkness Orb Saga

Save Moonridge!→Moonridge: Saved!

Light Orb Saga

Meeting Zhoom→Dynasty Tomb

Darkness Orb Saga

The Outcast

Nythera Saga 

The Storm→The Storm War

Darkness Orb Saga

The Gate Keeper→Extra Credit

Light Orb Saga

The Sandwich→Death From Below!

Ice Orb Saga

Mogloween Chapter 3: Mogloween Theft

Archknight

Thankstaking Chapter 4: Gooble-ocalypse

Energy Orb Saga

Frostval Chapter 3: Lumps of Coal!

Year 3

Fire Orb Saga

A Letter From Home→The Ultimate Weapon

Vilmor Saga

Hero's Heart Day Chapter 3: Change of Heart

Lucky Day Chapter 4: (Somewhere over the Rainbow Bridge)

Fire Orb Saga

Going East→Epilogue

Water Orb Saga

Mogloween Chapters 4→5

Tomix Saga

Highway→Museum

The Clashening

Thankstaking Chapter 5: Welcomegiving!

Nythera Saga

Into the Void→Face Your Destiny

Tomix Saga

Penitentiary→The End?

Darkness Orb Saga

A Dark Letter→Memory-Demons

Tomix Saga

Meeting Aegis→Soulweaver Training

Frostval Chapter 4: Frosty Reception

Year 4

Earth Orb Saga

Dravir Siege→Gorgok?

Spy Saga

Earth Orb Saga

Guardian Tower?→The Whole Truth

Nythera Saga

Know Your Nature→Embrace Your Destiny 

Earth Orb Saga

The Temple→Hidden Blades

Hero's Heart Day Chapter 4: The Greatest Hug of All

Lucky Day Chapter 5: Unlucky Escape

The Final 13th

Between

True Mortal: The Rise of Nivalis

Alexander's Saga 

(Not when the events actually occur, but when you should play the questline)

Book 2

Elemental Dissonance

Introduction: Flames in the Dark→A Brief Respite

Mogloween Chapter 6: 48 Weeks Later 

Elemental Dissonance

To Atrea→The Hunt Begins

Thankstaking Chapter 6: The Biggest Thankstaking Ever!

Elemental Dissonance

Appointment

Frostval Chapters 5→6

Year 5

Elemental Dissonance

North→The Merge

Between  

Thankstaking Chapter 7: Good Gravy!

(Yes, this is while the Hero is frozen. But these events actually don't need the Hero to be present to happen exactly as they do, and the feast has character models from both Book 1 and Book 3)

Book 3

Year 5/13

The End of Magic

Hero is Thawed→Player Hatching

Ravenloss

To Edelia→The Headmaster

Hero's Heart Day Chapter 5: The Threat List!

Calamity

13th 13th

Popsmashed

Ravenloss

The Gnomes Gnow→Autumn Wind

The End of Magic

The Rose Tree→Sands of Eternity

Ravenloss

Desert Night→Tithril

Blood and Roses

Full Moon War→Swamp Lake

Ravenloss

Deep Void→The Codex

The End of Magic

Discover Sulen'Eska

Song on the Wind→Dancing Breeze

Calamity

Forest Hunt→The Evil Artifact

Mogloween Chapters 7→8

Thankstaking Chapters 8→10

Frostval Chapters 7→8

Year 6/14

The End of Magic

Smoke in the Trees→Chains of Command

Blood and Roses

Neron's Request→Blood Patrol: Weres

Hero's Heart Day Chapter 7: The Love Ship

Lucky Day Chapters 6→7

Ravenloss

Into the Ynnungaap→Epilogue 

The End of Magic

Haven on the Horizon→The Siege of Haven

Calamity 

Serenity Before the Storm

Mogloween Chapter 9: Candy Troubles 

Calamity

The Valtrith Tomb→Breaking Down

Thankstaking Chapter 11: Attack of the Filler Golems!

Blood and Roses

The Locket→Blood and Roses

Frostval Chapters 9→10

Year 7/15

Calamity

Shattered→Ashes

Hero's Heart Day Chapter 8: Bubble Trouble

Lucky Day Chapter 9: Cysero's Golden Eggs

The End of Magic

One Step Forward→Trust

The Shears

Oculus Tower→ Shear Destruction

Ravenloss

Just Chillin'

The End of Magic

Melissa→ A Day for Farewells

Calamity

Madness→ Weal

The Nest

The Nest→ Leaving the Nest

The End of Magic

Unbound→ Timelines

The Thorns

Dark Devices

The Nest

Epilogue

Mogloween Chapter 10: Bubble Trouble 

Calamity

Corruption→Epilogue 

Thankstaking Chapter 12: The Felonious Five

Frostval Chapters 11→13

Year 8/16

The End of Magic

The Tournament of Champions

The Thorns

Enigmatic Epidemic→Artifact Heist

Six Heroes

Return to Lymcrest→The Burning Village

Hero's Heart Day Chapters 9→11

The Maleurous

Sinnocence→Remthalas

The Thorns

A New Student→Theano: A Thorn's Story

The Maleurous

Mr. Nameless

Ravenloss

Secundus

The Maleurous

Archive E-189-L

Six Heroes

The Apprentice→ ANOMALY 

The Maleurous

The Angel of Azaveyr→Myalos

Mogloween Chapters 11→15

(Time in Apsaydaaun is stated to move differently than on Lore, so these could all feasibly happen in the same month)

The Maleurous 

Iconoclasm→Reality

The Thorns

Fear

The Maleurous

Epilogue: Remembrance 

Thankstaking Chapters 13→14

The Thorns

Fortress of Thorns→Epilogue: Loose Ends

Frostval Chapter 15: The Great Giftnapping

Year 9/17

The End of Magic

My Spot→Khvorost

Hero's Heart Day Chapters 12→13

The End of Magic

A Petal Falls→Plans Entwined 

The First Weaver

Introduction→Father of Mine

The End of Magic

Out of Control→Sunfall: Part 2

Mogloween Chapter 17: The Ebil Dread

(Technically this would be partway through Storm in the Night, as I imagine it as the Hero stopping in Falconreach on their way to Doomwood, but the quest skips from talking in Swordhaven to arriving in Doomwood)

The First Weaver

From the Citadel with Love→Marzanna

The End of Magic

Storm in the Night→Broken Circuit (Part 1)

The First Weaver

The Beginning of the End→The End of the Beginning

The End of Magic

Broken Circuit (Part 2)→Of Duty and Dragons

Thankstaking Chapters 16-17

The End of Magic 

Speaker and Slayer→Reasons to Fight

Frostval Chapter 16: The Grand Snowfight

The End of Magic

Into the Unknown→Awakened Depths (Epilogue)

Frostval Chapter 17: The Reindragon

Year 10/18

The End of Magic

The Point of No Return (Part 1)→The End of Magic (Epilogue)

I hope you enjoy the timeline! (It took a lot of work to put together) Battle On!