#the world we want often emerges in the darkness

[lacollectionneuse1967]

slip of the tongue part 2 - jealous

Theseus Scamander x Reader

“He was all over you,” he hisses. “I am not a possessive man, but I could’ve killed him then and there. He doesn’t know what’s mine.”

summary: after confessing your feelings for (and sleeping with) your boss, theseus, you join his brother newt's team of wizards attempting to thwart the notorious gellert grindelwald. when you're tasked with distracting and seducing a powerful dark wizard on your first mission, theseus gets uncharacteristically and fiercely jealous.

fem!reader. theseus scamander x reader.

category: smut with plot

warnings: 18+ smut, (light) mdom/femsub elements, unprotected penetration, semi-public sex, jealousy/possessive behavior, also the reader suffers brief unwanted sexual advances in a scene

part one / part two

Your dreams are uninventive. Your nightmares are even less so. 

Often you are hounded by dogs: drooling, snapping canines, bloodthirsty past the point of cognizance, they’re more open mouths than animals. Or, you’re standing on the hill where your old orphanage used to sit in North London, barefoot on the roof while the rest of London floods below, water rising, you know you’re going to drown. Or some other tired, boring allegory for your past catching up with you, at last, your blessings, your wand, crumbling to ash—you know what the dreams mean and they don’t scare you anymore. 

But tonight you are perfectly dreamless. The dream dogs, the wintry world outside, the sound of the wind whistling through the empty London streets, it cannot touch you now. The fireplace is crackling and warm orange light spills in beneath the door from the living room.

Theseus’s arm is draped over your body, your head is on his chest. Every part of your body where your bare skin meets his buzzes with contentment. His room is like a sanctuary, his arms a house that holds you. 

You don’t think you’ve slept for even a full hour. It’s still dark outside when you feel Theseus jostling your shoulder. 

“Y/N. Wake up, darling.” 

You sigh in response and are about to put up a fight, but when you meet his eyes they’re full of sore regret, apologetic. He wouldn’t ask you to leave his bed unless it was important.

You emerge from the covers and start to stretch. 

“What time is it?”

“I’m sorry, love, but it’s nearly four in the morning. We have to be going, it’s urgent.” 

You turn to look at him, he’s raking a hand through his hair, sitting up in bed.

“Did you sleep at all, Theseus?” You ask incredulously.

“No, too much to think about. And besides, I knew if I slept I wouldn’t be likely to wake. Better you sleep…”

Your heart wrenched. In a swell of affection, you went to him, crawling back over his body on the bed.

“No,” he groans, but his hands come around you, sliding down to your hips, anyway. You kiss his neck, raking your teeth over the skin there.

“Don’t do this to me,” he anguishes. His grip tightens on your hip, it’s meant to be chastising but it makes you want him more. “Please. We need to leave, Y/N.”

It wasn’t easy letting go of him. You know he would’ve given you what you wanted with enough persistence. 

“Okay, okay!” You relent, kissing his mouth with a smile. “I’ll stop terrorizing you now.” You leap out of bed again without complaint. 

When he stands he’s serious-Theseus again, your boss. And you love him still. 

For his sake, you pretend not to notice his erection in his boxer shorts. It looks painfully hard. 

“Get dressed,” he says to you before turning to the bathroom. “We need to get to Hogsmeade.”

It was wonderfully strange to see him like this—hair in wavy disarray, looking soft and subdued, barefoot and in his t-shirt. You want to appreciate the sight, you want to talk about what had happened between you and all that had been said. But his mind is elsewhere, preoccupied, and it seems you are both running late.

At your insistence, he lets you apparate to your apartment for a change of clothes, but then the two of you are off, running down the stairs of his building into the dark world below.

————— 

Hogsmeade is more of a detour. There is an incognito meet-up organized with none other than Professor Albus Dumbledore. You’d, mercifully, taken a train--the Hogwarts Express. Theseus mentioned that Dumbledore was being watched by the Ministry, and that there were anti-apparition charms put up around the village and the castle.

You were just grateful to see him sleeping, at last, on the way there. 

It was barely daylight when the two of you arrived, the sun bleak and pink over the Highlands, providing no warmth. You were grateful for the coffee you'd nursed on the train, as you were grateful to relieve yourself of the confidential documents from the Ministry. Their weight was an invisible one for you, evidence of your betrayal.

"Some aspiring Auror you are," you thought to yourself, bitterly.

“I tried to organize them for you. I started to, actually,” You supplied sheepishly when Dumbledore regarded the haphazard stacks of parchment, laid out on one of the tables in what you assumed was his brother's inn.

Dumbledore smiled warmly at you regardless and thanked you sincerely. 

When you step out of the inn, you look to Theseus just as he looks over his shoulder at you. You're both more or less sleepless, and cold, and it seems the both of you have betrayed the Ministry and embarked on a hopeless mission, without many allies in the world.

But you were a united front.

It surprises you when he says, so earnestly that the tension in his shoulders seems to deflate, “God, I missed you. I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed you.”

You blush, but don’t break his gaze. You’re not afraid to let him see you anymore. 

“Where to, Mr. Scamander?”

He flexes his jaw like he’s not thinking about the plan at all, like he’s thinking about last night. But then, with a sigh, the moment is broken. 

“Germany,” he says. “It’s time you meet my younger brother and the rest of the resistance.” 

He says ‘resistance’ like it's some inside joke, some funny jab. You don't understand it until you arrive at the hotel room in Berlin. 

-----------

Other than the hair, that uncommon shade of reddish, honey brown, and the apparent kindness and sense of humanity, Newt is nothing like Theseus. In fact, when he comes over to greet you he can hardly meet your eye, his head is half bowed in the other direction, his mouth a nervous, flat line.

"Pleasure to meet you, Y/N. I was sure that you'd do the right thing when Theseus sent you his letter. It was... very brave of you."

You look to Theseus in sharp amusement, eyes sparkling.

"Was there ever a question of whether or not I'd betray you? Did you really think there was a chance I'd turn you over to the authorities?"

Theseus places a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

"Come now, Y/N," he says. "You know if I were to die I'd prefer it to be at your hand anyway."

You want to roll your eyes, but you're not sure to what extent he's joking.

You shake Newt's hand. You're soon after introduced to a muggle baker named Jacob and an astute, somewhat brash Auror from America named Tina. You're not much of a people-person, but you find that you like them both, immensely. They feel genuine, the sort of strong, singular characters that couldn't deceive anyone if they tried. That is why Newt's explanation of your task for the night sends a bolt of dread down your spine.

"We need to need to retrieve a magical object from a German Minister's office. I-I can't say much, it's better you don't know, but it's safe to assume that a large portion of the German Ministry of Magic has already fallen. Helmut, Vogel--and who knows how many others are under the influence of Grindelwald."

"Which German Minister's office?" Theseus says. His hands are in his pockets, he's leaning against the windowsill, the picture of nonchalance, his hair swept back. He's so handsome you could cry.

Newt ignores him. "Now, tonight may be our only chance. There's a diplomatic gala at the ministry itself. I can get us all in, Pickett and I can handle sneaking into the office itself, but there are five people who know about the object being at the ministry, who will be on the lookout and who need to be distracted until we're out."

He doled out assignments swiftly. Theseus was to distract the head of security. Jacob, the two waitstaff who served as the Minister's private informants. For Tina, the German Auror, Helmut. And for you? The Minister himself.

"Which Minister, Newt?" Theseus asks again, the edge in his voice unmistakable, though you don't understand it.

"Baron Dietrich, the Minister of Finance," Newt says at last.

Dietrich. Most of your work for Theseus was domestic, but you try to remember what you can. Dietrich was some Bavarian-born descendent of the aristocracy. Hedonistic, high society. He fought in the war, but gained his reputation in the drinking clubs of Berlin. Even you knew he was ruthless, notorious. A brute of a man without much respect for the law. That was the extent of what you knew.

Newt is rushing to explain before you or Theseus can speak.

“Please, Y/N, Theseus." He looks between the two of you, trying to appeal to both. "Dietrich, h-he likes…he likes beautiful women and he-"

Theseus crosses the room to his brother in a single stride. "Yes, and do you have any idea what he likes to do to those beautiful women, Newt?” He's seething. “Even everyone at the British Ministry knows he brutalizes them."

“I-I wouldn’t ask her if it weren’t absolutely necessary. So long as she’s able to distract him at the party, keep him interested there, at the party, nothing will happen to her—to you!” Newt turns to you now, addressing you directly. “I’m sure of it…”

Theseus sucks his teeth and turns away from his brother, still fuming. “Absolutely not. You will not send her away from my side, that’s final. Not to that man.”

“Theseus, please-"

“She’s muggleborn, Newt! Do you know what men like Baron Dietrich do to wizards like her? If he found out, if any one of Grindelwald's followers did, she'd be killed.” Theseus is speaking with such firm authority, but you know him well enough to detect the barely concealed panic in his eyes, the fracture just beneath the fortress. “Send Tina instead, she’s an Auror.”

“But Y/N is exactly the sort of girl that Dietrich would be-"

“I want to be an Auror too,” your voice sounds strange to your ears when you find it. It has a clear, confident quality, musical and lucid.

Theseus looks to you in shock. You wonder if he knew about the promotion you’d been offered at all, if he knew all you’d sacrificed to stay close to him—your very dreams dashed to pieces. From his expression, naked and open as day, he did not. 

“I can do it,” you make an effort to sound settled. Unshaken.

Being a young, vulnerable girl in the streets of East London, at the orphanage after, and then being a woman at the British Ministry as an adult, you’d dealt with plenty of over-friendly and entitled men. Boorish men were everywhere and were not uniquely monstrous. You hoped Baron Dietrich wasn’t either. 

"It's settled then," Jacob claps his hands together, seeming relieved that the tension between the two brothers has evaporated. Theseus is slumped over, leaning back on the nightstand in apparent defeat. "We're going to a party!"

Tina places her hand on your arm, leading you towards the closet. She doesn't seem to be terribly affectionate, so you're grateful to her for extending you this small kindness now.

"Here, Y/N," She says. "Let's get you dressed. We have plenty of time to go over the plan. It'll be okay."

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

Your outfit, "disguise" you suppose, is nothing like the subdued robes of your companions. You don't know why you're surprised when they ask you to enter the ministry ten minutes after them, alone.

The skirt of your dress is flowy and short, like a dancer's, ending just above your knee, something that might've been acceptable a decade prior, given the fashion trends. It's made of delicate petals of off-white fabric, adorn with tiny silver and pearlescent beads, glittering. Meant to draw attention. It's sleeveless and the top is breathtakingly form-fitting, pinching in your waist and hugging every curve of your body, but you are gratefully afforded an elegant high neckline. Silk, ivory-colored, wrist-length gloves that do nothing for the cold cover your hands and a fur half-coat is draped over your shoulders. Your lipstick is a deep red.

You understand what it means, these luxury items, your styling, the fact that you were instructed to enter alone. By no design of your own, the implication was that you were an escort, a madame of the night. No wonder Newt had Theseus leave the hotel first, before he could catch a glimpse of you. You didn't dare imagine his reaction.

As you enter the gala, handing the doorman your fabricated invitation without a glance, every head turns to you. Chatter stills as you pass, the women gawk and the men look stricken, hungry as the pack dogs in your dreams. Plates and trays sail overhead and the instruments play on, unattended. The German Ministry of Magic has spared no expense.

Patrons lean in close and speak hushed and anxiously. You assume the upcoming election for the highest office of the International Confederation of Wizards is on everyone's mind.

You head for the bar with your head held high, hoping it doesn't show on your face, your discomfort at being so seen. You were told Baron Dietrich would be at the bar with some of his men. With a trembling, gloved hand you motion the barman over and order a drink.

You don’t dare look for your friends. You assume things are going swimmingly for them, but for you? You are drowning in your finery.

You’re not even alone for a moment before the wolves descend. You should've known a man like Dietrich would come find you.

"Mädchen!" He approaches you partially, but expects you to come the rest of the way, waves you over with a meaty hand. When you raise an eyebrow, haughtily, he switches to English.

"Girl, come here." The timber of his voice is low, gravelly. He has a heavy brow, his hair is thick and peppered with gray. The gray does nothing to diminish the impression of his strength. In a fight without your wand, he could have your neck snapped, broken and rolling around its stem, in a heartbeat.

You walk over, leaving your drink at the bar, untouched.

The gala is housed in a mammoth, marble room, twenty foot ceilings held up by smooth columns, something that reminds you of Gringott's. But around the massive bar at the room's center are half-circle booths and tables, spiraling out like lily pads. You slide into Dietrich's booth and his arm goes around you immeditely.

He smells chokingly of cigars, a perfumey, sickly sweet smell. He is a bloated, thick-limbed man. No, you couldn't have fought him off. There are so many uniformed men at his table that some of the younger ones have to stand. With a sting of shock, you don't see how you could be of any influence on these men at all, they hardly see you as a person, aren't speaking to you. You hope Newt and Pickett work quickly.

Another young man, dressed in what looks like a soldier's uniform, slides into the booth after you, sandwiching you in next to Dietrich. You let out of noise of shock and begin to push him off you when Dietrich grabs both your wrists.

"Don't be fussy. This is my young friend, newly recruited. I plan to make him my protégé."

The other men slap the boy over the shoulder, jostling him in congratulations. He smiles meekly. You could hate him for that meekness. That pathetic deference to power.

"We'll share you tonight, of course." Dietrich is looking at the boy, not you. "In my office."

Dietrich's hand clamps over your exposed thigh and his fingernails jab into the fat of your thigh. You don't react to the bright bite of pain. The other boy begins to lean into you, breath hot over your neck.

Whatever small bird lives in your ribs begins to beat itself against that cage, flailing and thrashing.

"No!" You can't help the edge of panic in your voice. Dietrich is too strong, so you don't bother, but you shove the boy off of you and out of the booth without much effort. The boy stumbles out, dumbfounded.

Dietrich snatches your wrist with real fury, bruisingly.

"What?! You're for sale, aren't you?" He won't hurt you in front of his men, not at the gala, but his face is so colored with anger that it's nearly purple.

"Please," there's a real plea in your voice when you say it, you try to cover it up with a hurried smile, you try to look charming. "Dance with me, sir?"

That seems to sedate him. He looks irritated, but pleased by your attention. At least he won't be able to molest you in front of all his colleagues and superiors.

He leads you to the dance floor and the entire way your mind is racing, scrambling for purchase, trying to figure out how you're going to keep him out of his office. He made it clear he had plans to go there later tonight with his men. With you.

And he was an even cruder man than you'd thought, he'd made no attempt to even flirt with or seduce you. His interest in you was moreso entitlement, the same interest a predator has for a slab of meat.

Your wand, concealed on your person, gave you little comfort. Newt had asked that you did not reveal yourself, didn't make a scene. But if it came down to it, you would fight Dietrich rather than submit to him. He was more than repulsive. He wanted to hurt you.

"Please," you think to yourself. "Please, God, don't make me-"

You startle at the large hand that grips your waist and spins you away, just before you reach the dance floor.

Dietrich, abandoned, turns in flustered outrage and is swallowed by the crowd. You're being whisked away before he can fully react, Theseus guiding you deftly out of the overfull room of diplomats.

You sob with relief. "Theseus-" you start, but he's leading you deeper, still, away from the gala.

It's not until you're in some pitch-dark, gaping mausoleum of a hallway that Theseus finally stops, pressing you delicately against the wall, holding your face in his hands like water, like something precious. He examines your body.

"Are you okay?" He asks, pressingly.

You could cry out in joy, the sight of his face is balm-like, giving you a familiar relief.

"Yes, yes!" You reassure him. "Is it done? Did we do it?"

Theseus nods in confirmation, still looking over you for injuries, turning over your wrists in his hands.

"The others are already out. It was quick. No one noticed a thing, we probably took too many precautions this time around..." He finally meets your eyes. The look in his is dark and indecipherable. When he swallows, it's raggedly. "You're really okay, Y/N?"

"Yes," you answer, hesitant at the intensity of his look. "Why?"

Theseus presses his body against yours harshly, you don't even have time to moan before he's swallowing it with his mouth. Your hands are all over him, but he gives you no room to move, it's as if he doesn't notice, the way he's pushing you up against the wall, kissing you like he wants to consume you.

"You're so damn beautiful," he mutters. "When you walked in I almost blew my cover just to go to you."

"Theseus," you pant. You're needy, you want him to keep kissing you but he's leaning his neck back, pinning you against the wall but holding himself away so he can look at you when he runs his warm hands from the backs of your thighs up to your ass. He hooks his fingers around the waistline of your panties and pulls them down so they're only hanging onto you by one of your ankles.

He leans in for another kiss, just as deep and wretched as the last, just as maddening.

He pulls away again with a pant.

"Your dress is too damn short," he curses under his breath.

"Are you angry at me?" You ask quietly, still writhing against him, desperate for friction, but suddenly self-conscious.

"No, no sweetheart," he soothes. "Not at you. You did so good. Such a good job." His praise has you leaning into his palm, which is cupping the side of your face.

You whimper, "I want you." You realize it's true as you're saying it. You can't ever lie to him. "I want you," you repeat, more insistently.

“He was all over you,” he hisses against your ear. “I am not a possessive man, but I could’ve killed him then and there. He doesn’t know what’s mine.” He punctuates the last word with a squeeze to your backside. 

"Theseus," you breathe out, helplessly. You can't believe this is happening. The wing of the German Ministry that you're in is completely dark, you can barely make out the tapestries and curtains hanging loose from the walls. But there's distant light at the end of the hall, and dim voices and music filter in and out from the gala a few rooms over.

But you want him to keep touching you more than you know better, know you should stop. More than anything.

He starts to hike your dress up, his movements urgent, when he stops abruptly. The spot where Dietrich's nails dug into your upper thigh is small, but he drew blood.

Theseus pauses, loosens his grip and lets you slide down the wall. With a slow-thudding heart you briefly fear he'll be so furious he'll run back to the gala, to find Dietrich, but he only bends down and kisses the wound, just barely, lips ghosting over skin, so gently you could cry. Kneeling before you, he looks like a prince, a knight. He's careful to avoid the wound when he lifts you back up against the wall.

You can't help but stare down at it, in awe, when he takes his dick out. Your body still thrills at the sight of it, there, huge, resting at your entrance. Theseus grinds a slow circle, sliding it against your wet folds, against your clit. You just stare.

He flashes you a lazy smile.

“What? You want me to help you put it in?” 

You moan, audibly. You're not doing a very good job at being discreet, but how can you when he says things like that to you and expects you to answer?

"Yes, please," you close your eyes, too flustered to meet his burning gaze when you say the words.

He grips the base of his cock and guides it into your pussy. Clamps a hand over your mouth to muffle the noises you're making, you whimper dumbly against his palm. Only releases his hand from your mouth once he's fully seated inside of you. The stretch is so big you know it would hardly take any movement at all for him to break that tension and make you come, drive you mad, unravel you completely. Just a few rocks against the wall, a few rolls of his hips and you'd be brainless and spent, crying out his name. You're already dripping around him. But you want to last longer for him this time.

He's looking directly into your eyes.

“You’re taking it, Y/N. You can choose where—in your mouth, on your face, inside. But you’re taking it all.” 

You nod. Then once again he's fucking you dumb, you don't even care that anyone could walk by, you're just thinking about how big he is, how good it feels. He's fucking your body slack now, you don't even have to do anything, he’s holding you up, lifting you onto and off of his cock roughly, debasingly.

His hands nearly circle your waist completely, they’re so large. Your mouth is stuck open, making stupid, feeble noises and he’s grunting small words of encouragement.

"Say my name," he says.

When you don't respond immediately, too blissed out to think, he slams your body down harder onto him and you nearly yelp.

"Hngh, Theseus. Theseus, please-"

You can feel him get almost unbearably hard inside of you, then he’s heaving you up and flipping you around, manhandling you, so your back is his against his torso, his right arm a bar across your chest, still inside. He brings a hand down roughly to your clit to touch you through it, and then you're both coming hard, your loud, jagged breaths echoing through the empty hall.

Your head spins, you're seeing stars.

"Baby," he says, when you don't come back to yourself immediately. "Was I too rough? Are you okay?"

You nod, breathlessly, but stumble when he finally stops supporting your weight. Your body is still juddering with pleasure, your fingertips quiver and feel numb as you smooth down your dress.

He's right, you think with a laugh. My dress is too damn short.

Theseus has the decency to look around the hall to make sure no one was watching, and to help you fix your hair and what's left of your lipstick. Your lips are pink and bitten now, swollen.

"They're probably wondering where we are. We should go." His voice is serious, unemotive, but there's something like devotion in the way he looks over you from head to toe, just one last time, to make sure you're beyond reproach. He hands you his jacket, which is huge on you, and slings your fur cape over his arm, bearing the cold himself like a gentleman.

A flurry of snow has begun to spiral down in the streets of Berlin, white particles curling and dancing in the wind. You've always found this type of snowfall to be so fanciful, the closest thing to magic in the muggle world. You walk back to the meeting point in comfortable silence, Theseus's hand clasped firmly around yours.

"He doesn't know what's mine," he'd said about Dietrich, about you. And last night, not that long ago, he'd said, "I love you."

Albeit, after you said it first. You look over to his oblivious face, checking both sides for cars before leading you across the busy street. His kind eyes, the line of his jaw..

You wonder how he could mean it... You'd so meticulously tried to conceal from him all the ugly parts of your life, your past, your fears, even your wants when they seemed to inconvenience him.

Could he love me? Could I let him?

"I want you," you'd said to him in the hall of the German Ministry. You realize now that you meant more than his body. For so long even just a look from him, just a word, was enough to sustain you.

But now you wanted more. Maybe it was selfish, undeserved, that the magical world was giving way to crisis, the dark forces were closing in around hope, and yet here you were, wanting to ask him for more...

part three here

author's note: hiiiiii! YES i switched to present tense from past tense in the last part, and no i'm not sorry... please let me know if you'd like me to continue this fic! i have a third & final chapter in mind. or i can take other theseus requests. the theseus brainrot is real... some AUs would be fun too! as always, feedback is welcome <3 taglist: @mystic-mara

[strnilolover]

NNN - Matt sturniolo - rainy day

You and Matt hadn’t planned on staying inside today. You had plans to go out for a walk and then go hang out at a little outdoor café, but when you had woken up this morning, there was nothing but pouring rain outside.

You had started to pout, pulling yourself out of bed and into the kitchen to make breakfast for you both. Matt was still sleeping — not wanting to wake him up after discovering your initial plans were ruined.

When he did emerge from the bedroom, breakfast was already done and sitting at the table, you yourself were sitting down picking at your food slowly. Matt noticed, walking over to sit beside you where he own plate was set.

His hand reached out, grabbing your jaw softly as he turned your head to face him. “What’s wrong sweetheart? you look upset.” he asked, pressing a light peck to your cheek. Your frown pulled more, bottom lip sticking out. “Our plans for the day are ruined — it’s raining so heavily outside.” you whined.

He raised a brow at you, craning his head to look out the kitchen window, water droplets decorating the glass. He hummed at the realization, turning his gaze back to you. “Just because it’s it’s raining, doesn’t mean plans have to be ruined baby. They’ll just be…different.” he said softly, letting your face go to pick up his fork.

You stared blankly at him, “What do you mean different? what can we possibly do that’s fun?” you asked, your own fork now stabbing into the food and bringing it to your lips.

He grinned as he took a bite of his food, chewing. “You’ll see.” was all he said before he continued to eat.

After both of your plates were cleared and set into the sink, matt took your hand and guided you into the living room. He stopped in front of the couch, your body bumping into his softly. Turning to you he smiled, “I don’t know about you, but I think pillow forts are a great thing to make when it’s raining.” he whispered, pulling you closer to him.

You looked up at him, “A pillow fort?” you questioned, a little surprised but delighted. He nodded with a grin, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “And after we build it, we can watch all your favorite movies — I don’t mind a marathon.” He leaned in, pecking your lips gently, making you giggle.

You rolled your eyes, “Alright, but just so you know, I take my pillow forts very seriously,” you teased, raising an eyebrow as you grabbed his hand, leading him to the couch. He chuckled, already grabbing a few pillows and handing them to you. “Good. I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

Together, you collected every pillow and blanket in sight, stacking them into a cozy fortress in the middle of the living room. Once the fort was assembled, you both crawled inside, sinking into the pile of blankets with a sense of accomplishment.

He settled in beside you, pulling you close as you rested your head on his shoulder. “So,” he murmured, his fingers gently brushing over your arm, “which movie are we starting with?” he asked softly.

You bit your lip thoughtfully, looking up at him. “How about we watch the saw movies? I know it’s not spooky month anymore, but I love them.” you suggested, your voice barely a whisper.

His sighed, wrapping an arm around you a little tighter, pressing a warm kiss to your forehead. “Fine, Fine. But, just because I love you.” he whispered back. With the remote in hand, he started the first movie, and the room dimmed, casting a soft yet dark glow around your little fort.

As the movie played, he absentmindedly traced patterns along your arm, his gaze drifting down to you every so often, a gentle smile tugging at his lips. You felt a sense of comfort and warmth, the outside world disappearing as you were wrapped up in his presence.

Halfway through, you glanced up at him and caught him watching you instead of the screen. “Caught you,” you whispered, laughing quietly. He shrugged, a small smirk on his lips. “Can you blame me? You’re way more interesting than any movie,” he murmured, leaning down to steal another kiss.

© strnilolover

→ NNN Masterlist | Masterlist | Taglist ←

[misswynters]

Royal Welcome - Chapter Two

Dragon Twins Series

Aegon Targaryen x Dayne!fem!reader x Aerion Targaryen

[synopsis: You locked yourself in your room for the entire day after the events that occurred during the morning. You couldn’t believe aegon would humiliate you like that. Aerion however finds a solution to your sadness.

[warning: kissing, sensual touching, almost smut, puppy-eyed aegon

[word count: 3.0k

[a/n: we don’t often see the calm aegon in hotd so i decided that he will be that.

[note | it would greatly appreciated if you would not only just like, but also reblog & give me feedback. thank you!

previous chapter | next chapter | masterlist

As the day progressed you were sulking in your chambers, not moving a muscle. What aegon did was so humiliating to you that you didn’t even want to step foot outside. Soon the evening shadows cast long tendrils of darkness across the room as you lay on your bed, your face buried in the silken pillow that was damp with the tears you had shed. The humiliation of the council meeting replayed in your mind like a cruel jest, Aegon's mocking laughter echoing in your ears. Your heart pounded with a mix of anger and shame, your cheeks stained red from both the wine and the sting of his words.

A soft knock at the door barely registered through your sorrow. You remained silent, unwilling to face anyone, least of all Aerion. The door creaked open regardless, and you heard the quiet, purposeful footsteps approach. A gentle hand rested on your shoulder, and you looked up to see Aerion's concerned face.

"Are you alright?" he asked softly, his voice filled with genuine concern. “You haven’t left your room at all since what happened at the small council meeting”

You shook your head, unable to find the words. Aerion sat down on the edge of your bed, his hand never leaving your shoulder. The warmth of his touch was a small comfort amidst the turmoil of your emotions.

"Aegon was out of line," Aerion said, his voice steady. "He had no right to treat you that way."

You looked up at him, your eyes red and swollen from crying. "It doesn't matter," you whispered, your voice cracking. "I'm just a pawn to them, a tool to be used for heirs and be discarded."

Aerion's expression hardened. "You are not a pawn," he said firmly. "…and luckily you have me."

His words touched a chord deep within you, and before you could respond, Aerion leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a sudden, passionate kiss. The world seemed to melt away as he cupped your cheeks, his fingers gentle against your skin. You followed suit, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as your heart raced.

The kiss deepened, a fervent exchange of unspoken emotions, each moment stretching into eternity. Your mind was a whirlwind, but in that instant, nothing else mattered. You were no longer burdened with duty and expectation; you were simply you, and he was with you.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other. Aerion's eyes searched yours, a mixture of longing and concern reflected in his gaze.

"Wanna come somewhere with me?" he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

You nodded, feeling a newfound strength. "Yes," you replied, your voice steady. "I'm sure."

Aerion smiled, a rare, genuine smile that made your heart flutter. He stood up, offering his hand. "Come with me," he said. "Let's get out of here, even if just for a little while. Clear our heads."

You hesitated for a moment, but then took his hand, allowing him to pull you to your feet. Together, you slipped out of your chambers, the castle corridors quiet and dimly lit. Aerion led you through a series of passages until you emerged into a secluded garden, the night sky above and all inhibitions were cast aside. Aerion's hands became more insistent, gripping your waist and pulling you even closer. The cool night air contrasted sharply with the heat building between you, making every touch, feel electric.

The cool night air was refreshing, and you took a deep breath, feeling some of the tension ease from your shoulders. Aerion stood beside you, his presence a comforting anchor in the sea of your emotions.

"Sometimes," he said quietly, "we need to step away to see things more clearly. Out here, it's just us. No titles, no expectations. Just me and you."

You looked up at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Thank you," you said softly. "For everything."

Aerion nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "Always," he replied.

After a few minutes in silence, you stood there watching the night sky, "Aerion," you whispered, your voice trembling with a mixture of need and anticipation.

He responded with a low growl, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that left you both breathless. His hands slid up your sides, tracing the contours of your body with an urgency that mirrored your own. You arched into his touch, your fingers threading through his hair, tugging him closer as the kiss deepened.

You broke apart, gasping for air, your foreheads resting together. The garden seemed to pulse with the same intensity that thrummed through your veins. His eyes were dark with desire, his breathing heavy as he looked at you.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

You nodded, unable to find the words but certain in your heart. "Yes," you whispered, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging within you. "I want this, my prince. I want you."

He needed no further encouragement. With a swift motion, he lifted you, guiding you to a secluded bench surrounded by the fragrant blooms. You settled into his lap, your legs straddling his as he pulled you close, his hands gripping your hips. The new position only heightened the intensity of your connection, your bodies pressed together in a desperate, fevered embrace.

Aerion's lips found yours again, the kiss raw and hungry. You matched his fervor, your hands roaming over his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your fingers. Every touch, every kiss seemed to ignite a fire that threatened to consume you both.

His hands slid under your dress, the roughness of his fingers contrasting with the softness of your skin. You gasped as he found the sensitive spots along your thighs, his touch sending shivers of pleasure coursing through you. You clung to him, your own desire mounting with each passing moment.

"Aerion," you moaned, your voice a breathless plea.

He responded with a low, guttural sound, his lips trailing down your neck, leaving a path of fire in their wake. His hands continued their exploration, and you could feel the hard evidence of his desire pressing against you, adding to the delicious tension building between you.

The night around you seemed to disappear, the world narrowing to just the two of you, lost in each other. The garden, once a place of peace and tranquility, now echoed with the sounds of your shared passion. You moved against each other, each touch, each kiss pushing you closer to the edge.

"Aerion, I..." you began, but the words were lost as his mouth claimed yours again, silencing any further thoughts.

The kiss was possessive, demanding, and you surrendered to it completely, your body responding to his in perfect harmony.

Your hands moved to his shirt, fumbling with the buttons in your haste to feel more of him. He helped you, shrugging out of the garment and tossing it aside.

Your hands roamed over his bare chest, feeling the warmth of his skin, the strength of his muscles. You marveled at the sensation, the way his body seemed to fit perfectly with yours.

Aerion's hands were no less busy, his touch exploring every inch of you, leaving a trail of desire in its wake. The night air was cool against your heated skin, but it only heightened the intensity of your connection. You could feel the dampness between your thighs, a testament to your growing need for him.

"Aerion," you begged, your voice barely more than a whisper. “We should stop…”

He groaned, his lips brushing against your ear. "I need you," he murmured, ignoring you as his breath laid hot against your skin. "I need you so much." You started to feel guilty as he continued to kiss you passionately.

He paused for a moment thinking about what you said, his breathing ragged, eyes dark with lingering desire. “You’re right,” he hesitantly agreed, his voice hoarse. He reluctantly let go of your waist, his hands lingering on your hips for a moment longer before he pulled back.

You both stood, the cool night air a sharp contrast to the heat still radiating from your bodies. Aerion’s eyes never left you as you adjusted your dress, smoothing out the wrinkles and making sure everything was in place. His hands moved to help, his touch gentle and careful as he straightened your clothes, his fingers brushing against your skin with every movement.

“I’m sorry,” you said, your voice a mixture of regret and lingering desire.

He shook his head, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “Don’t be,” he murmured, a small smile playing on his lips. “I understand.”

As he continued to help you, his hands moved with a deliberate slowness, and he couldn’t resist placing soft kisses on your lips. Each peck was tender and affectionate, a stark contrast to the fevered kisses from moments before. You leaned into him, savoring the sweetness of his touch, even as the urgency of your previous encounter faded.

“There,” Aerion said softly, his hands coming to rest on your shoulders. “All set.”

You looked up at him, your heart swelling with emotion. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice filled with a depth of feeling that went beyond words.

He smiled, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “Always,” he replied, his eyes locking onto yours with a promise of more moments like this, of a connection that went beyond the physical.

The garden was quiet once more, the night enveloping you both in a serene embrace. You took a deep breath, the cool air calming your racing heart. He took your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours, and together you walked back toward the castle.

Aerion gently led you back to your chambers, the soft glow of the torches casting warm light across the stone corridors. His hand remained firmly clasped in yours, a silent promise of protection and affection. When you reached your door, he paused, his gaze lingering on your face.

"Goodnight," he whispered, his voice filled with tenderness. He leaned in, brushing a kiss against your forehead, a soft, lingering touch that left your heart fluttering.

"Goodnight, Aerion," you replied, your voice barely a whisper as you watched him turn and walk away, the connection between you still palpable.

࣪⠀⊹  ˑ  ִ  ֗   ִ  ۫ 

A few moments later, your handmaidens entered the room, carrying your nightgown and the items needed for your nightly bath. They moved with practiced efficiency, helping you undress and preparing the bath. As you slipped into the warm water, a sense of calm washed over you, the events of the night replaying in your mind.

The handmaidens' gentle hands washed your body, the soothing motions helping to ease the tension from your muscles. Your thoughts drifted to Aerion, his touch, his kisses, the way he looked at you with such intensity. A smile tugged at your lips, a warmth spreading through you that had nothing to do with the bath.

Just as you were beginning to relax, the door to your chambers burst open with a loud crash. You startled, the peaceful moment shattered. Aegon stumbled into the room, his eyes glassy and unfocused from his usual nights out. He reeked of alcohol, his steps unsteady as he glared at the handmaidens.

“Get out!” he bellowed, his voice slurred but still commanding. The handmaidens exchanged frightened glances but quickly obeyed, scurrying out of the room and leaving you alone with him.

Aegon’s eyes flicked over you, and he took a deep breath, the fury from earlier momentarily subsiding. “Get dressed,” he muttered, his tone softer but still laden with the effects of alcohol.

Fearful of his unpredictable state, you quickly stood from the bath and wrapped a towel around yourself, hurrying to slip into your nightgown. Aegon sat on the edge of your bed, watching you with an intensity that made your skin prickle.

Once you were dressed, he patted the spot next to him on the bed. “Sit,” he commanded, his voice a mix of authority and vulnerability.

You hesitated, but the look in his eyes made you comply. You sat beside him, the tension between you palpable. Aegon’s expression softened, the anger replaced by a sadness that caught you off guard. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he lay his head on your lap, his vulnerability exposed.

“I saw you and my brother in the garden,” he confessed, his voice trembling slightly. “I saw everything.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, fear and guilt mingling as you searched for words. “Aegon, I—”

He cut you off, his voice muffled as he buried his face in your lap. “Why?” he asked, his voice filled with a sorrow that made your heart ache. “Why him? Why not me?”

Hesitantly, you raised your hand and began to caress his head, your fingers threading through his hair in a soothing manner. Aegon, usually so arrogant and self-assured, now seemed vulnerable, exposed. You looked down at him, seeing the pain and confusion etched on his face.

“Aegon, it’s not about choosing one over the other,” you began, your voice gentle. “Aerion and I… it was unexpected, we just connected in that way.”

He let out a shaky breath, his body trembling slightly against yours. “But I can love you,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I can learn how.”

The confession hung in the air, heavy with unspoken feelings and regrets. You felt a pang of sorrow for Aegon, but your heart still belonged to Aerion. You had to tread carefully, not wanting to hurt him further.

“Aegon,” you said softly, continuing to stroke his hair, “I care about you, too. But i can’t live like this, i hate being constantly ignored”

He let out a shuddering sigh, his grip on your dress tightening. “I’m sorry” he murmured, more to himself than to you.

You gently squeezed his shoulder, your touch tender. “I’m sorry, Aegon,” you said, your voice filled with genuine regret. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

He looked up at you, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I know,” he said quietly. “I know.”

For a moment, you both sat there in silence, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. Aegon finally lifted his head from your lap and stood, his movements sluggish and weary.

“Goodnight,” he said, his voice hollow. He turned and left the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

You sat there for a moment, the events of the night swirling in your mind. Aegon’s confession, his vulnerability—it all left you feeling conflicted and sorrowful. Your heart now remained stuck in between the two, drawn to Aerion with a pull you couldn’t resist. But also struck by aegon’s sudden burst of emotion. Even though he was drunk, you could feel his true feelings spurring out of his heart.

࣪⠀⊹  ˑ  ִ  ֗   ִ  ۫ 

In the morning, as the first light of dawn filters through the curtains, you wake with a sense of unease lingering from the events of the previous night. Your mind is a whirlwind of thoughts about Aerion, Aegon, and the complex web of emotions entangling you.

The handmaidens enter quietly, bringing a basin of warm water and fresh linens. They help you into a simple but elegant morning gown, their hands gentle and efficient as they prepare you for the day ahead. Despite their calm presence, you can’t shake the tension in the air.

After dressing, you head to the dining hall for breakfast, apprehensive about facing Aegon. As you approach the hall, you hear the soft murmur of conversation. Steeling yourself, you enter the room.

Aerion is already there, looking as composed and handsome as ever, though his eyes light up with concern as he sees you. Aegon, on the other hand, sits silently, staring into his cup, his expression unreadable.

You take your seat, the tension between the three of you almost palpable. Aerion reaches over, his fingers brushing yours in a subtle gesture of reassurance. You manage a small smile, grateful for his presence.

Aegon finally looks up, his gaze locking with yours. There’s a flicker of hurt and something else—resignation, perhaps?—in his eyes. He opens his mouth as if to speak but then closes it, shaking his head slightly.

The silence is broken by the arrival of the other family members and courtiers, who fill the room with their chatter and laughter, oblivious to the undercurrents at your table. You focus on your food, trying to ignore the knot of anxiety tightening in your stomach.

After breakfast, Aerion suggests a walk in the gardens, a chance for some privacy away from prying eyes and ears. You disagree, wanting to speak with aegon about the happenings of last night.

After breakfast, Aerion suggests a walk in the gardens for some privacy, but you shake your head gently.

"No, Aerion. I need to talk to Aegon," you say, glancing over at your husband, who still sits at the table, his eyes fixed on his empty plate.

He hesitates but nods, understanding the importance of the conversation. "I'll be here if you need me," he murmurs, squeezing your hand before he leaves.

Taking a deep breath, you walk over to Aegon. He looks up at you, a mixture of frustration and sadness in his eyes. Without a word, he stands and takes your hand, leading you out of the dining hall. You're surprised by his sudden action but follow him quietly.

He leads you to another room, the council chamber. As you enter, he heads straight to the table and pours himself a glass of wine, leaning against the edge as he takes a sip. You stand there, hands behind your back, waiting for him to speak.

"When I saw you with Aerion in the garden," he begins, his voice tight with emotion, "I got angry. So angry."

He sets the glass down and looks at you, his eyes filled with a storm of emotions. "Come closer," he instructs.

You hesitate for a moment but then step forward. As you reach him, Aegon takes your hand and pulls you against his body, positioning you between his legs. You can feel the tension radiating from him.

"Aegon," you start, but he silences you with a gentle touch to your lips.

"I need you to listen," he says softly. "Seeing you with him... it hurt me. Deeply. I know we've had our differences, but you're my wife. And I can't bear the thought of losing you to him."

You place a hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath your palm. "I never wanted to hurt you, Aegon. Aerion and I... it was just a one time thing that happened out of the blue"

He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. "Okay. Just promise to me that you will not go near him. I don’t wanna see you with someone else."

"Only me," he whispered, his voice trembling. You looked up at him, his eyes still closed. "That can be done" You stood on your toes and reached out for his cheek and gave him a small kiss.

Aegon opens his eyes and looks at you, his expression softening. “Well that settles it then."

You nod, relieved that he's willing to work give you another chance and not lash out. He pulls you into a tight embrace, holding you close.

As you stand there in his arms, you feel a sense of hope. However, your mind couldn’t stop thinking about your relationship with the other twin, now that aegon is starting to show a little of his good personality. You’ve now found yourself in a situation that could break you or make your life better. This was all you could think about until aegon pulled you back to reality, his hand at the small of your waist. The hug lingers, lasting longer than either of you anticipated. You can feel Aegon's heartbeat slow and steady against your chest.

After what feels like an eternity, Aegon gently pulls back, his hands now resting on your shoulders. He looks into your eyes, a small, genuine smile forming on his lips. "I appreciate you for staying and talking to me, i thought you would’ve left”

You return his smile, feeling a warmth spread through you. "I was the one who wanted to talk with you, so why would i leave.”

He nods and then surprises you by lifting you slightly off your feet, twirling you around playfully. You laugh, the sound filling the room with lightness and joy.

Setting you back down, he brushes a strand of hair from your face. "Let's spend the day together," he suggests. "Just you and me. We can go for a ride, visit the market, anything you want."

You beam at him, touched by the effort he's making. "I'd love that."

Aegon takes your hand, leading you out of the council chamber. As you walk through the halls, you talk about trivial things, the heavy conversation from earlier giving way to lighter, more comfortable topics. The air between you feels clearer, the connection stronger. Then you noticed that you didn’t even say where you would like to go.

You looked up at him as you walked “May we visit the market, dear husband” you playfully said as you swinged the hand that was holding his.

“Where ever you want to go, i will come with” aegon looked at you, his eyes shining. You left out a sign of relief as you were able to get closer to him. You were glad that he didn’t turn out to be a furious husband as the rumors concurred throughout the Red Keep.

However, you were thinking so many thoughts, “What if there was a slight chance that aegon was just doing this to get his piece, a future heir” You didn’t want to think that way but what if it’s true.

a/n 2: i’ve proofread this so many times but there could very well still be mistakes :’(

© misswynters ‘24 - don’t modify or steal my writings

taglist: @sab-falco @spn-obession @tomgcsmrs @sturnioloarchive @arquiiva @malfoycassimalfoy @klutzylaena @champomiel @p45510n4f4shi0n

[lets-try-some-writing]

Emergency Protocols

Cybertronians cannot be alone. To be alone is a death sentence. There is a reason they travel in groups, and with the war in its last gasp, their numbers are dangerously low on both sides.

Faced with a fate far worse than mere death, things are tense. Unfortunately, both sides are forced to endure a rude and horrific wakeup call when the first of many falls victim to the process they had all hoped to escape.

(Big warning for robogore.)

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

“I apologize, Mrs. Darby. I am afraid I cannot abide by your wishes.” Optimus stood firmly, his expression dark in a way Jack had never seen before. Next to him, Ratchet watched the scene like a hawk, his eyes bright and intense to such a degree that Jack involuntarily felt himself shuddering. The rest of the Autobots also seemed frozen as they observed in quiet grimness that was so unlike them that it was almost frightening.

Something had changed over the last few months. Ever since the Darkmount incident, the team had been… off. Jack didn’t claim to be any sort of expert, but it didn’t take a degree to see that the bots were more somber. Even Smokescreen, the most excitable of the group, spent more and more of his time pacing. Every single bot was out of sorts, always hanging around the main part of the hangar and never wandering far unless directly ordered by Optimus. Arcee wouldn’t even drive Jack home anymore. Jack, Miko, and Raf were almost always taken home by his Mom or by Fowler.

The worst part, at least in Jack’s opinion, was the way the bots always stopped to stare whenever he and his friends left. Whatever they were doing halted immediately and they all paused, watching critically as they left the hangar to get a ride back into Jasper with Fowler more often than not. It was a small detail, but oftentimes they seemed twitchy when it came time for Jack, Miko, and Raf to head to and from school.

They were almost upset by it, if Jack had to guess.

“You are NOT taking the kids to go talk to Megatron of all people! What the hell is wrong with you?!” Jack wanted to flinch as his Mom screamed, her face contorted in rage so bright it almost had Jack wishing he could shuffle away. But of course, he knew that wasn’t an option. The situation was tense enough that even Miko was quiet as she held Raf’s arm, trying to find some comfort as the scene unfolded.

“You already keep them here overnight whenever you can! And now you want to bring them out to face the giant metal beacon of DEATH that almost took over the world?!” His Mom’s voice echoed in the base, but not a single one of the bots moved. They all stood quietly, stiffly, even as they observed. All that could possibly be picked up from them was the faint sounds of their engines running and the ever-so-slight twitching of their eyes.

The bots had always been clingy. Jack had never been able to figure out why they’d tried to shoo him and his friends away only to then refuse to let them go anywhere when they had a say in things. Looking back, it was like a switch had been flipped. The bots never let him or the others wander far. They were always observed and always requested that they stay at base longer whenever it was feasible. It almost seemed desperate now that Jack thought about it. The way Arcee seemed reluctant to let him go when she drove him home. The look Bulkhead shared with Bumblebee when Miko and Rafael were similarly ordered to be brought back to their families. The strange expression of terror on Smokescreen’s face whenever Jack and his friends left for the evening…

Whatever was going on was finally about to reach its peak. Jack could feel it.

“I apologize, Mrs. Darby. We need the children. We cannot allow them to leave unless they are traveling with us.” Optimus’s voice was surprisingly quiet as he finally spoke up. Almost too quiet. A faint rattle in his words left Jack nervous more than anything else. How often had he ever seen Optimus upset? Once maybe? Even then, it was moreso a look of surprise. 

“What in heaven’s name could you possibly need my son and two innocent kids for? Bait?” His Mom’s retort was venomous, so much so that Raf stepped close to Jack on instinct. He didn’t think too hard about holding the younger boy’s hand and pulling Miko slightly behind him as Optimus’s eyes shrank down, the tiny pinpricks of glowing blue becoming smaller than ever before.

“We need the children. They are of us now. We cannot allow even one of our number to leave our sight, not like this, not right now.” Optimus twitched violently. His entire body seemed to lurch as he gripped the railing of the platform, putting Jack and the rest on the Prime’s level. The metal creaked, groaning under his strength as Optimus’s head tilted ever so slowly, his antennae drawn back in an almost aggressive manner.

Jack fought back the urge to run as he watched the rest of the bots crowd around, each of them staring quietly and in obvious agreement with their leader’s words. What was going on?

“Optimus, what’s going on?” Miko finally spoke up, her voice shaking with a hint of a whine as she looked between the Prime, Jack’s Mom, and the rest of the bots. He almost wanted to smack her for speaking up and possibly drawing more attention to them, but he couldn’t find the strength to do anything other than pull Miko closer to himself proactively. Whatever was going on here was beyond them.

“Miko, Jack, Rafael… I am sorry you were the ones wrapped up into this… but I will not risk my people dying. I refuse to condemn one of my own to the fate that awaits us if we are left alone.” Optimus twitched again, this time so violently that a crack echoed in the base. Jack winced but didn’t dare to move as Ratchet pulled Optimus back, his eyes never once leaving Jack and his friends.

“June, give them to us now. We aren’t asking, this is a demand.” Jack’s heart beat faster in his chest as Ratchet took Optimus’s place, holding out a hand and glaring at all of them like they’d personally offended him. Jack paused, too afraid to move, until Rafael tugged on his arm, gesturing toward Ratchet’s waiting hand. Miko seemed hesitant, but she was the first to obey and hurry over to the team medic. Jack didn’t have enough courage to tell her not to.

“Jack, Miko, Raf, don’t you three dare.” His Mom’s eyes were wide and filled with fear. Jack wanted to run, he wanted to scream. But what was he supposed to do? The bots were all so much stronger than them, and from the looks of it, they were willing to do just about anything to get their way.

“Mom, calm down. The bots have always brought us back from dangerous situations safely. This is pretty much the same, right?” Jack tried to soothe his Mom, but he felt a deep dread settle in his stomach as he finally got onto Ratchet’s hand, soon sitting with Raf and Miko pressed up against his sides as the tower giant that called himself a medic began to step toward the rest of the bots. 

Jack was only given a moment to see his Mom’s terrified face before Ratchet’s fingers curled enough that he couldn’t see. He wasn’t sure he wanted to.

“Jack, do you think we are going to be alright? The bots… aren’t going to hurt us, are they?” Rafael clung to Jack’s side like a little kid, which he arguably was. Jack wrapped an arm around him in what he hoped was a comforting manner as he felt Ratchet begin to walk. 

“They haven’t hurt us before. I don’t think they are going to start now. Besides, this whole thing seems off. They seem to just want us around like some sort of good luck charm.” He attempted to comfort the younger boy, but Raf didn’t seem all that at ease. Jack couldn’t blame him, especially when Miko was sitting quietly for once, her eyes glued on the light of the groundbridge.

“They will be returned safely once talks with Megatron have concluded.” Optimus reassured Jack’s Mom again, but it did little to ease her. Jack could still hear her crying out as the team stepped through the groundbridge, Ratchet still holding all three of them protectively.

The moment they arrived on the other side, Ratchet’s fingers parted just enough that Jack could see through the gaps.

“Prime! You’ve finally arrived.” Megatron stood on top of the nearest rock formation, a legion of Vehicons all around and on the ground beneath him. Soundwave and Starscream stood at his sides, both watching with grim expressions. What happened to all the vicious eagerness Jack had witnessed time and time again when he’d gotten wrapped up in the bots war?

“Megatron, I appreciate your cooperation.” Optimus stepped forward, speaking for the entire group. Oddly enough, the entire team of Autobots huddled close together, each of them looking a second away from surging into action or having a panic attack. Smokescreen and Bumblebee seemed especially stressed, both hovering near one of the bigger bots for support. Ultra Magnus became a bit of a beacon as Optimus left the group. Arcee, Bulkhead, Bee, Smokescreen, and even Wheeljack all crowded around the Commander.

Ratchet remained about a foot or two away from the Autobot huddle pile, for which Jack was grateful since it gave him a good view of whatever was going on.

“Doc, what’s happening?” Miko called up to Ratchet, looking far more terrified than Jack had ever seen her. Miko was always one for battle and excitement, but the strange, unsettling aura of trepidation was evidently getting to her. Rafael wasn’t much better as he clung to Jack’s side, not even adjusting his glasses as they slipped down his nose.

Ratchet did not see fit to answer Miko’s question.

“Have you come to surrender at last?” Megatron cackled, his evil grin on full display. Jack personally wanted to cringe at the sheer ego expressed in Warlord’s tone, but he was more worried about how the bots were reacting. There was no anger, not even a hint of combat readiness. They just… huddled.

“No. But I come to bargain for peace.” Optimus raised his hands, not in surrender, but something more… friendly? Jack didn’t really have another way to describe it as the Prime kept his back to the team, watching Megatron like a hawk.

“There is no bargaining to be done here, Prime. I will accept nothing less than complete and total surrender.” Megatron raised his blaster, his grin unwavering. Again, Jack wanted to cringe or scowl, maybe both. But looking at Starscream and Soundwave had him even more concerned. They seemed nervous, and looking at the Vehicons, they also huddled together in a very similar fashion to the team.

This was wrong. Something about all of this was wrong. 

“Megatronus, enough. You and I both know that we are out of time. There are too few of us left. We cannot continue as we are. Sooner or later, one of us will succumb.” Succumb? Jack felt a hint of fear begin to seep into his body as he looked up at Ratchet, then at his friends, and then back to Optimus. All of them were afraid, at least to his eyes. Ratchet’s expression was sharp, his eyes wide and glowing in a way he’d never seen before. Optimus was unnaturally twitchy, scratching at his armor periodically as he spoke. Rafael and Miko were unusually silent, seemingly copying the team as they huddled against Jack’s side.

He didn’t stop them, instead holding them close as things continued to play out.

“You underestimate the fortitude of the Decepticons. We do not need your Autobots to ensure our survival.” Megatron hissed, anger blazing in his eyes. Those around him flinched, even Soundwave. Survival. This was about survival. That meant that something serious was on the line that Jack did not yet know about.

Why would the Autobots want to ally with the Decepticons for the sake of survival? They’d only ever done that when Unicron woke up. And even then, that was just Megatron, not the entire faction.

“You lost most of your Vehicons to the virus that plagued your ship, and many more fell during the battle at Darkmount. You know as well as I do that your numbers are dangerously low.” Optimus’s voice continued to rattle, his fingers digging into his shoulders as he clawed at his armor. The team made worried noises, but they didn’t dare move. Ratchet’s eyes widened even further as Jack momentarily looked up at him.

Numbers. Was this about the survival of the species? Last time he’d checked, Optimus had said Cybertronians were on the verge of extinction. But again, why ally with the Decepticons? Had Optimus finally cracked? But if that was the case, why did the Decepticons, minus Megatron, look so eager to accept the offer. The Vehicons kept edging closer, their weapons lowered as they fidgeted in fear.

“They’re scared. The bots and the cons are scared of something.” Rafael’s voice was barely above a whisper, disbelief in his tone. He hugged Jack’s arm tighter, prompting Miko to do the same. They were way out of their territory here.

“Not low enough to bring us to our knees. We will never bow before a Prime.” Megtron’s retort came spitefully. His words turned into a strange mess of sounds Jack couldn’t pick out as he ranted for a while longer. Jack assumed he must have been talking in Cybertronian, but it certainly still seemed to make Optimus more and more agitated.

“You are a fool! We are out of time, Megatronus! None of us are safe! Not you, not me, and not any of those under our command!” Something seemed to snap in Optimus as he threw his arms up, gesturing to everyone and everything with such energy that Jack had to blink a few times to see if he was seeing things right. Miko and Rafael physically recoiled as they watched Optimus start to claw at his armor again, creating deep indents as he grunted, bordering on a growl.

“Would you like to see Soundwave succumb? Do you really want to potentially lose your last loyal ally? What about the rest of your troops? Do you want to watch them suffer as base coding takes over?” Again, Optimus spoke, his voice shaking in a way that was previously unimaginable. His movements were almost desperate as he continued tugging on and scratching his plating, almost like he had an insatiable itch. Jack couldn’t see much from where he was, but Optimus turned ever so slightly, letting him get a glimpse of the wild and crazed look in his eyes before he refocused.

The bots shifted all around him, huddling even closer and even going so far as to hold onto one another. Even Ratchet shuffled closer to the team, cradling Jack and his friends but not once tearing his gaze away from the scene.

“Your ridiculous chattering aggravates me. I need none of your Autobots to keep my troops secure. But you need us.” Megatron's tone was mocking, almost like he’d won some great battle. Optimus responded in short order, even more frantic than the first time, but in a quieter way.

“We need each other. This war has gone on too long, and if it continues as it has, we are going to fall.” Jack found himself more and more afraid just listening to the sheer amount of defeat in the Prime’s tone. He looked… scared. Well and truly scared as he started to hunch over a bit. 

“Then so be it! I will never succumb! I am Megatron of Kaon!” The leader of the Decepticons cackled, likely preparing to go on into another rant. But he was cut off by a choked sound from Optimus, one that left Jack fighting back the urge to close his eyes.

“You cannot-” Optimus lurched, his limbs twitching erratically as he continued to make an unsettling gagging sound. His antennae moved in unsteady motions, his armor rattled, and his fans blew open as he clutched his abdomen.

“Prime? Are you alright?” Bulkhead hesitantly called out, prompting Optimus to turn around for a brief moment. Miko looked like she wanted to say something, but she shut up the moment the Prime faced them. His optics were wider than wheels, and his jaw hung open in what looked to be a silent, horrifying realization. 

“Sir, step back. A retreat may be in order-” Ultra Magnus also tried to offer a comment, but Optimus just twitched again, his erratic movements turning into fullbody shaking as his voice became pure static for a long agonizing moment. He clawed at his arms, tearing off pieces of armor in terrified, desperate motions, almost like he was too hot.

“N-no…. This… this cannot be my end.” Optimus’s words were choppy and frantic, so much so that Megatron’s smile was wiped from his face. Jack felt his own expression fall as he pulled Miko and Rafael back, his hand coming to rest on their heads as he felt the instinctual need to prepare to cover their eyes.

This was bad. This was very, very bad.

“Everyone! Get back!” Ratchet all but shoved Jack and his friends into Arcee’s waiting hands. They all yelped, clutching Arcee’s fingers as Ratchet stood in front of the team, urging them back. Between the gaps in Arcee’s fingers, Jack saw a sight that would horrify him until the end of his days.

Optimus was still standing, but he was contorted in such a way that Jack wanted to feel sick. He was bent over, almost like he was trying to perform a gymnastics maneuver only to be stuck halfway. Metal-looking structures jutted out of his spine, possibly his version of ribs. They shone with a sticky substance that hung in strands, still connecting them to the Prime’s body. His expression was pulled taut in what Jack could only assume was pain as Megatron all but screeched for his soldiers to step back.

“Get away from him!” The Vehicons didn’t need to be told twice before booking it back to Megatron’s side. Jack took the chance to cover Rafael and Miko’s eyes as Optimus, usually so composed, fell to crying out in agony.

“H-Help me! I-it hurts-!” Optimus clawed at his armor, wailing as he grasped his head, pulling on his antennae and scratching at his face and neck like it would help him escape whatever was happening. He looked almost feverish as his armor flared and his fans roared.

“M-my spark! Hurts-!” Optimus’s words faded into a scream as he frantically tore off his own armor in a spray of energon. Anywhere he could reach, he dug his fingers under plating and ripped them off. It looked agonizing, almost like he was skinning himself to try and release some deep pain Jack couldn’t even comprehend. Wires were exposed, bright and scarred gray skin like surfaces bleeding as the Prime continued to tear at himself. Miko and Rafael shook against his sides, reminding Jack to keep his hands over their eyes even as he watched on, unable to look away.

“What’s happening!?” Miko whimpered into Jack’s shirt, but he didn’t answer her. Instead, he held her tighter, fighting back the urge building in his gut to vomit.

“PRIMUS HAVE MERCY! MERCY UPON ME!” Optimus screamed like a dying man, twisting like he didn’t know where he was. He flailed before falling to his knees, energon leaking from his mouth, his audials, his eyes, and his vents. He choked and gagged, trying to scream as his spine tore itself out of him, extending and spreading as small rib-like protrusions rose like wings, making room for strange bulbous masses to form all over Optimus’s back.

All over his body, the things Jack assumed were bones ripped themselves out of Optimus’s body in jagged, terrifying snaps. Any remaining armor started to melt, especially around his arms and legs, as more masses developed there. The masses were gray but had a strange hue-shifting look to them that made them glimmer like the world’s most messed-up rainbow, all accompanied by the agonized wail of the ever-stoic leader of the Autobots.

The whole scene looked like it crawled straight from hell, especially as gray looking sludge started to form around him as his armor continued to melt right off and pieces of what looked to be his version of skin began to warp.

“I knew one of us was going to bud!” Smokescream shrieked, covering his face with a sob as he stepped back, only stopped by Arcee who barked at him loud enough for Jack to wince as her voice rang in his ears.

“Shut up!” Jack only tore his eyes away from Optimus’s torture long enough to watch the team start to panic. Wheeljack and Bulkhead clung to each other like the Rapture was on the horizon. Bumblebee had fallen to the ground, watching in shocked horror as Optimus continued to wail. Smokescreen was only held up by Ratchet, who clutched his arm so tightly there had to be dents.

Only Ultra Magnus remained firm, but even that looked like a fragile façade.

“There’s nothing we can do now. Remain clear of the containment area.” Magnus stood firmly, placing a hand over his chest in what looked to be a salute of sorts as the horrific scene continued to unfold. 

Megatron and his Decepticons just watched. They didn’t even try to fire as they watched Optimus cry out in agony, the masses all over him growing like tumors combined with the world’s worst allergic reaction. His face split like dried and cracked earth, letting energon pour from the wounds. The same happened all over his frame, internals falling onto the floor as his very body melted from the inside out. The grows just kept getting bigger, cracking and shattering whatever remained of Optimus’s skeleton. 

Jack had to swallow the bile building in his throat as Optimus’s limbs snapped, bending backwards and at odd angles the shouldn’t have been possible. His jetpack had long since been torn to shreds, clinging to the mass on his back like some sort of thorn. The Prime had another growth on his chest that left him breathing frantically as he choked on what Jack could only assume were his own fluids. Two more hung off his arms, each creeping along him like mold. Two others infested his legs, popping off Optimus’s tires and consuming whatever mass was there.

He never stopped screaming.

“By the Unmaker…” Megatron’s curse was just loud enough to hear over the cacophony of sobs mixed with howls of torment coming from the Prime. Jack hardly registered his friends shaking against him, crying softly as they listened. He was glad they couldn’t see. Good lord, he was so glad.

Optimus desperately tried to move with his shattered body, the Matrix shining through a gap in his chest where the growth had not yet infested. The thing shocked him relentlessly as he pulled himself along, trying to get to help. His eyes exploded like light bulbs, leaving him blind and in even more agony as his very jaw began to melt right off, unhinging as if someone had knocked the screws holding it in place clean off. His fingers swelled like grotesque sausages, the armor on them distending until they snapped and the fingers turned into nothing more than good and bits of wire.

The Prime kept crying, trying to reach but ultimately being forced onto his stomach as he weakly pleaded for aid.

“Help… me… please… brother…” Optimus lifted an arm, one almost entirely overtaken by the growth. He reached in Megatron’s direction, but the warlord merely shook his head in horror and disbelief. Not a soul moved, and even Smokescreen’s sobs when quiet as Optimus whimpered one final time before his throat caved in.

Jack wasn’t sure if he was dead or not, but he certainly hoped so, if only for Optimus’s sake, as his body continued to twist and be devoured by whatever was on him. The growths consumed almost everything, bulking and breaking off of Optimus’s mutilated husk once they’d eaten almost all of him. Jack couldn’t bear to look at the corpse as the growths started to squirm, warping and changing.

Forming limbs.

“Is… is Optimus dead?” Raf’s voice was soft, almost a sniffle. Jack didn’t dare move his hands away from his friend’s eyes, decidedly not acknowledging the way his hands shook or how sick he felt.

“I don’t know Raf.” Jack’s words were surprisingly calm, but he chalked that up to shock as each of the masses continued to shift and change, forming into... their own entities. One by one they came online, their eyes lighting up a brilliant blue as they stood on unsteady legs. There were six, five of which appeared to be of similar design. Only the largest stood out, its armor sharp and its body built with a degree of elegance in mind.

All six of the new entities assessed themselves, looking over their bodies. The five smaller entities all had wings, but more startlingly, they all had Optimus’s eyes, albeit with slightly different takes on the design. It was almost like they were related somehow.

Jack wasn’t given time to think much about it as the biggest of the six quietly moved to Optimus’s body, or at least what remained of it. The five followed, the whole group staring at the Prime’s body for a long moment before the biggest reached down, and pulled out the Matrix. The relic was covered in energon, and yet it still somehow looked innocent as the largest one held the relic up, presenting it to Autobot and Decepticon alike.

“Hot Rod of Optimus Prime.” The biggest one, Hot Rod, announced themselves with a stoic expression that rivaled the fallen Prime. The rest of the five soon joined in the chorus.

“Silverbolt.” One of the five presented themselves with a proud salute, their frame blocky and obviously still developing.

“Air Raid.” Another followed in their lead, copying the first.

“Fireflight.” Again, another of the five spoke out, and each voice that rang out seemed to make the bots and cons shrink in on themselves.

“Skydive.” 

“Slingshot.”

The last two exclaimed their names with both glee and a degree of solemn understanding. Jack finally released his hands from where they’d covered Miko and Raf’s faces, letting them see these new bots. They gasped, and Miko began to cry the moment she saw Optimus’s corpse. Jack didn’t try to comfort her. It was useless.

The six stood there, as if waiting for orders. They were without color, and their armor was still shifting like goo. However, they all looked up to Megatron; their actions synchronized as they spoke in unison, leaving Jack’s skin crawling.

“We are of Optimus Prime, and we desire peace.” They all spoke, but Megatron wasn’t having any of it. He shook his head, terror etched onto his features as he threw himself into the sky.

“Decepticons! Retreat to the Nemesis!” Without hesitation, all the Decepticons flew back toward the warship looming overhead, not even trying to take advantage of the situation.

The six, for their part, turned to stare at the team, Jack and his friends included. He could feel their eyes raking over him, assessing him like he was some interesting subject in a lab. He hated it. He wanted to be sick, to sob, and then to never emerge from his room again.

“We will continue our originator’s work in his stead. We will not allow his death to be in vain.” Silverbolt, or at least the one Jack assumed was Silverbolt, collected the battered remains of Optimus’s corpse. The broken thing was little more than a few pieces of melted metal smelted together into an unflattering slab. The only reason it could even be tied to Optimus at all was because of the cracked remnants of a face that stuck to it.

Jack wasn’t sure he would be able to hold back the bile any longer as the six all smiled, the biggest one who still held the Matrix, stepping forward like they were always part of the team.

“Shall we return to base?”

[wutheringskies]

Wei Wuxian: The Untamed Hero

Wei Wuxian had to be killed even if:

1. He carried his sword

2. He didn't use gui dao

3. He didn't create Yin HuFu

4. The Wen remnants were not in the plot

Then, why? The reason is here, voiced by Jin Zixun of all people:

Wei WuXian, you are too bold! Did the LanlingJin Sect invite you today? And you dare run wild here. Do you really think that you’re invincible, that nobody has the courage to confront you? Do you want to overturn the Heavens?”

Wei WuXian smiled, “You’re comparing yourself to the Heavens? Excuse my language, but your face is a little too thick, isn’t it?”

So, you see, this untamed heart can only meet with tragedy as the world is unrighteous, as those who are in power think their actions cannot be contested (and they often aren't!), and that their words are like the law. How many times have we seen, a convicted powerful person escape the justice system? Far too many. And how many times innocents or victims were framed for crimes? Also too many. People like Wei Wuxian aren't condemned by fate, but rather, being born into a world where the "heavens" are those who are powerful and corrupted, he very well might be destined to live tragically, along with others of his type.

Returning to the matter of this particular scene: on one hand, the Jins throw private banquets, gilded with gold. The major scandals are: Jin Zixun is forcing the Lans to drink alcohol! You see, Lan Xichen can't outrightly refuse, so he is trying to be polite about his rejection. Jin Guangyao is trying to reason and excuse, and distract. The crowd spurs Jin Zixun on, wanting to see the Lans drink for once and fall to their level.

Everyone is in their own fine little world, doing their niceities in their golden halls drinking expensive wine, admiring pretty women, gasping at scandalous behavior, asking for favour, gossiping etc.

And then Wei Wuxian walks in. Uninvited. He simply drinks the wine himself, before demanding these people to spare him their time for real wordly issues, such as deaths, debts, cruelty, the parts that society wishes to hide. A few scenes later, we are shown with much description, just how terrible Qiongqi Path is. That's the Jin's backyard. You see their achievements that are drawn on those big walls? We see the reality of the people making them.

Now, let us come to another incident. Think of the soup incident. I fully expect before Wei Wuxian came into the scene, people were simply gossiping, uninterested in finding out what was going on, why Lady Jiang is crying. Then, Wei Wuxian comes and realizes Jiang Yanli who never really cries... was crying, and firstly decides to beat the shit out of Jin Zixuan. Secondly, he understands the whole truth, beats Jin Zixuan up for humiliating his Shijie, and also makes the other girl face responsibility.

Although his shijie had an easy temper, except for how they cuddled and cried together the day the three of them reunited after Lotus Pier was destroyed, she hadn’t really shed many tears in front of others, much less cry so loudly, so pitifully in front of so many people. Wei WuXian was filled with panic. As he tried to ask her, Jiang YanLi was crying so badly that she couldn’t even speak properly. Then, when he saw Jin ZiXuan standing on the side, astonished, he fumed with anger, wondering to himself why it was the dog of a person again. With a kick, he pounced on Jin ZiXuan. The fight between the two would have alerted the Heavens. All of the cultivators around the base came to break up their fight. Amid the ruckus, he finally understood what was the cause of all this, and became even more angered. He spread his tough talk, saying that one day he’d definitely make Jin ZiXuan die in his hands, he told people to drag out the cultivator woman.

A round of questions later, the truth emerged, and Jin ZiXuan’s entire body was frozen. No matter how much Wei WuXian continued to curse at him, he returned neither words nor fists, his face dark. If not that Jiang YanLi held up her hand a while later, while Jiang Cheng and Jin GuangShan came to pull Wei WuXian away, it was likely that even now Jin ZiXuan wouldn’t be able to attend the hunt of Phoenix Mountain.

See.

The point is, perhaps, people feel Wei Wuxian's actions are unnecessary. But imagine if he wasn't there! The consequences as I predict them will have been:

1. Jiang Cheng who doesn't want to upset a prominent clan would've grumbled and cursed underneath his breath, but eventually just moved away from the ruckus and taken his sister away.

2. Perhaps the truth would never have been found out, unless Jin Zixuan later searched by himself.

3. Thus, Jiang Yanli's reputation would be stained for the years to come.

It's because Wei Wuxian dared that the truth was revealed. I took this small incidents simply to highlight this, without the addition of more factors. In the book, often, it might seem like people are trying to stop him from creating trouble. You might often wish, ugh, this is going to be so bad... The point is Wei Wuxian knows! He's not stupid, he knows of the consequences of his actions.

But he isn't the one creating trouble. It was already created by the likes of those very people who try to stop him from investigating deeper. The trouble in question is that immoral and unrighteous words and actions and decisions have already been made. Society tries to hide them. If you can't see it, it's not there. Yet, even if it is not visible, a crime has its traces and it will bleed into their world sooner or later.

Wei Wuxian forces people to snap out of their comfort zones. He doesn't care for the barriers they set around themselves. Here are some examples to explain what I mean by these barriers:

Who dares hit Jin Zixuan, who's the only heir of LanlingJin, even when he deserves it? Protected by his status, his birth, his clan who dares? Wei Wuxian does.

Who dares to annoy Lan Wangji, the second jade of Lan, who from birth is considered otherwordly, strict, immovable, rigid, untouchable and protected by his extreme cold aura? Wei Wuxian dares.

Who dares to enter cultivation society without even wielding sword, without even cultivating a core? Wei Wuxian!

Since time unknown, treasures have belonged to the powerful sects: The Lan Clan and their library, their many secret techniques. The Jin clan and their treasures, their gold. The Nie Sabres. The Zidian. Yet, a son of a servant somehow ends up possessing the most powerful treasure all by his own! Everyone goes to this popular refinery, some famed blacksmith, or that popular sect to get specially created spiritual weapons, yet Chenqing, one of the most powerful weapons, was forged alone by Wei Wuxian during his 3 months in the Burial Mound!

Since years, the cultivation world has taken to heart rules of Lans, words of the powerful sects, and their leaders! Then, once again, this orphan child comes and bends the world and changes the cultivation society forever! Yiling Laozu said that... Yiling Laozu created... Yiling Laozu's manuscripts...

His words literally become the law.

Think of how 13 years after Wei Wuxian's death when "all was peaceful" despite us knowing very well, just how much shit happened after his death - slaughter of minor clans, deaths of two prominent sect leaders, xue yang etc (because, you know, most of it was purely accidental, kept hush-hush, or the victims were people who weren't important), he comes back to life and in a matter of a couple of months, upends the cultivation society again.

The "problem" is that this guy simply doesn't conform. The problem is that he is better. The problem is that he is not unnecessarily humble about it, despite his origins. He doesn't seem to treat himself as an outlier, but an equal. (That's why I hate insecure Wei Wuxian, like this guy is righteous enough he won't even treat himself badly.) The problem is that all those barriers - social classes, power, the locked doors - they won't keep him away.

Even if he was only the Jiang Da-shixiong with a bright golden core, he will still not be a conformist. To those who aren't used to having their decisions questioned, he is their worst enemy. To whose who are used to talking in circles, spreading rumors, he is asking them. What source do you have? What is the factual evidence behind what you are saying? Why are you saying this now?

Think of how he cross questioned a petty seller selling Yiling Laozu portraits in Qinghe, and how he questioned the gathered cultivation sects in Lotus Pier during Sisi and Bicao's intervention with the same sort of attitude. Surely, there was a major class difference, power difference between the two. Yet, they don't matter to him. What matters is the truth.

So, no matter what, when the people who are in power, start having too much dirty laundry and corpses in their backyards, he will definitely know. For this guy, knowing isn't enough - he will get to the crux of the issue. The problem is, he even has the skill for it. He has the ability. One also can't distract him with offers, promises, gifts, riches, status, women. He doesn't care for any of that. He perhaps might even hate one's victims. Yet he will stand up for them.

Of course, those who are in power, all smile at each other. They understand things sometimes have to be done. People sometimes have to be silenced. "We know better."

Then, Wei Wuxian comes in and says, actually you don't. He comes in with factual accounts, evidences, forces you to face your misdeeds. Says you're all a bunch of hypocritical people. No, perhaps what is worse is that he will make you realize that's what you are! Because he's got to be good at talking, too! He's not going to act on anger or be stunned in fear.

So, now you have someone who's not only digging into your evil deeds, someone who's capable, who's not easy to persuade, but also someone with high emotional intelligence who can play the same role as you do, of being a noble, accepted gentlemen with immaculate manners, of very high literacy and outdo you. Because this guy knows very well how society works, he can comprehend social cues perhaps better than you can. He can use your own polite words and nature against you.

It's precisely because of this he must be killed. Perhaps, in every world, Wei Wuxian will end up being the victim. It's only that in MDZS, these were the particular circumstances, and those were the particular excuses.

My personal take is: sometimes it is good to be a centrist, and hold everyone's better intentions in mind. most of the times it might not be, as there are many conflicting systems in place that allow for true victims who are stuck. most often, the victims are always the ones who DON'T have a voice, who are brushed over as numbers of corpses, rather than people with stories. most often, kindness is shown in little action that are trampled upon by those who hold true power. most often the people who are good, who are heroes die young, or are hated and ridiculed, for speaking up for the victims. it's not right, and never will be.

if someone like wei wuxian or his presence in the book makes you uncomfortable it might be because you hold the "niceities" and the pleasantries to be of more importance than the issues at hand. just because something is too troublesome doesn't mean it is wrong. if everytime he enters the scene you're scared of what he's going to do next, you should know it's not him who is the problem but the prople who aren't doing anything who are. don't be scared of "trouble-makers." he's not erratic or spontaneous. he has considered society's standards and deemed it useless. why is that that the koi tower scene, where he is in his "yiling laozu, loss of control, threatening" moment is followed immediately by him being extremely kind to Wen qing ? it's not that he's losing control. it's that Jin Zixun wouldn't have acted and told him where the people were without him using intimidation tactics. Wei Wuxian is the one forced into bad corners by the powerful people, where he has to show his edges. Don't end up twisted the narratives. if you bite someone for a while, expect to be hit.

[theepitomeofamess]

ok ok it's theory time bc i'm rewatching mismag 1 as a coping mechanism so potential spoilers ahoy & forgive me if it's rambly i've also had a sedative

the serpent in the storm. the one without a name and only shown as an illumination in the Tome of Nimble Working. is that what was possessing evan? like is it the amalgamation of the "demons" that were haunting him, or even just The Main Guy? i'm not sure if this creature has anything to do with the breaking of magic, I just started thinking about this today at work, but hear me out.

in Class Conflict, the manifestation of the thing haunting Evan when it emerged to protect him was the blood cobra, and the barb that Tallulah hit Evan with after potions class was that all she heard was "hissing noises." so we know that snakes are something evil & monstrous in wizard culture (as much as they were in HP) but not because they're the mascot of the "evil house" Aqarbus. so where did the serpent symbolism come from?

later, in Family on Six when Evan makes the agreement to lean on the demons to save K, the "permanent change" that Brennan describes is that out of the shadow across evan's face "just goes black and is leaking black oil and water." aabira's description of the illumination of this creature was "a mix between a snake and an oil-soaked bird of prey." oil-soaked.

this is kinda what got me thinking in the first place, because what are the things you think of when you think of Evan Kelmp? Bird Facts and Gas Station Parking Lots. this absolutely feels like something Aabria would pull to make Brennan eat the lore he created.

it's also the type of shit she would do because of K's attempts to find any sort of books about what these "demons" might be during the exorcism, only to be met with "you think you're going to find me in a book?" maybe not named. not studied. no anatomical drawings or any sort of understanding as to what it is. but yeah. they'll find it in a book.

i do think that maybe this bird snake entity has been tied to Evan since before his birth---aabria's description in the latest S2 ep: "you feel yourself and the inside of you is empty, and something that was always meant to be poured in is beginning to pour itself back in" tells me that Evan was born to be a vessel for something. now, the demons at the exorcism said that Evan was promised to them. promised by whom? promised by what? maybe by the thing that knew it was going to be held within Evan, and knew that if he were to grow up with a dark enough childhood, if he were to be haunted enough, he might become the Dark One.

now, we don't really know the mythology of the Dark One. we don't know what sort of prophecy was told about it. going off of the general trope of the thing, we've gotta assume that it's something along the lines of "this person will unleash a great terror/darkness/evil upon the world." this likely was supposed to happen as a result of evan's torment like a psychotic break, or maybe as a defense mechanism in a life-or-death situation. either way, this creature and the magic that it represents would have wanted to be released, maybe still using Evan as a vessel and working through him to maintain its unknown, mythological status. this thing isn't Tad, it can't and won't be lulled to sleep.

could this creature have been accidentally released as a result of sam's exorcism? probably, it had to have been a thing or else it wouldn't be on the orery.(besides, this ancient monstrosity would never have anticipated Sam Black). could it be that it was released after K killed Evan? possibly, idk how often gm's rearrange lore behind the scenes to better fit what's happened in the story they're playing through.

whatever the case, I do think that it's not insignificant that Evan only started getting inklings of this sort of repossession leaking in after the events on Seeganpelater. the place where he saw the creature through the serpent's watch (a scene that in illustration implies that, maybe, the serpent could see them, too). the place where he snapped his wand. the place where he killed Boudicca. where we saw him be a magic murderer, where we saw him truly tap into the darkness he's been assigned his whole life. somewhere on cannibal Island, there was a moment of reconnection, and it helps that the very next places they went to were the islands that 1) stressed Evan out beyond belief, and 2) worked with amplification. it was able to strengthen its bond either the minute they landed, or as soon as Evan leaned into his strengths to scratch the tree with his shadow.

maybe this creature is what broke the well of magic. maybe it created the storm and destroyed Gowpenny. maybe this is a version of the Dark One prophecy coming true, breaking the rules of magic to the point that the entire system is broken and the world can never be what it used to. maybe it's not involved in anything and is just reveling in the chaos. I don't know. maybe all of these are coincidences between seasons. fun to think about, though!

[n0cturn4]

Character: Dick Grayson x Reader Summary: The tension in the air became palpable Word Count: 741 Music: When it's time - Green Day

In the city of Gotham, the night unfolded like a cloak of gentle mist, where the moonlight danced upon the puddles formed by the rain, like small windows into an ethereal world. You walked through the silent streets, your footsteps echoing amidst the whisper of the wind. The shadows, like figures in a nocturnal ballet, moved beneath the soft glow of the streetlights, transforming the urban bustle into a magical symphony. Amidst your daydreams, a familiar figure emerged from the shadows.

“Hey, it’s not safe to walk alone out here at night,” a deep, warm voice broke the silence. You turned to find Dick Grayson, wrapped in his dark suit, with a smile that illuminated the darkness like the moon itself.

“And you, what are you doing here?” you asked, a smile blooming on your lips. Dick always had a knack for appearing when his presence was most needed.

“Just taking a stroll, trying to keep Gotham safe,” he replied, leaning slightly as if the city were a sanctuary to be protected. “I can do that with a little help.”

A thrill coursed through your heart. Dick was more than a hero; he was a friend, a confidant, a light amid the darkness. With him, insecurity faded, and excitement took hold of you.

“Shall we take a walk?” he suggested, extending his hand. You hesitated for a moment, but soon your hand found his, feeling the warmth and strength that radiated from him. As you walked, he spoke enthusiastically about the team’s latest adventures, their victories and challenges. The passion in his voice made your heart race.

Suddenly, he stopped, turning to you, his blue eyes shining with the moon's silver light. “You know, I’ve always admired your courage,” he said, his voice low and filled with sincerity. “You don’t fear facing what lies ahead, and that inspires me.”

“Thank you, Dick,” you replied, warmth flooding your cheeks. “But you’re the true hero here.”

He shook his head, chuckling softly, as if to deflect the praise. “Maybe, but heroes also need someone by their side, someone to help keep them focused.”

At that moment, the tension in the air became palpable, an expectation hovering between you. Dick moved a little closer, and you could smell his signature scent—a mix of leather and a subtle fragrance that made your heart flutter.

“I... I want you to know that you’re important to me,” he began, hesitating as if the words were precious pearls to be carefully offered. “I’ve been fighting my own demons, and often, it’s you who brings me back to reality.”

His words echoed within you like a soft violin's touch. “Dick, I care about you too. I’ve always cared” you confessed, your gazes intertwining in a silent dance.

Time seemed to stop as you both locked eyes, the intensity of the moment swelling like a silent storm. Then, without a second thought, he leaned in and sealed your lips in a gentle kiss, but one full of meaning. The world around you vanished, and all that existed was the connection between you two, like stars united in a vast night sky.

When your lips parted, Dick smiled shyly, a fragility contrasting with the confidence he usually displayed. “I didn’t want to miss this chance,” he said, his timidity making the moment even more special.

“Me neither,” you replied, still a bit dazed but enveloped in a radiant happiness. “Gotham may be dark, but with you, everything seems clearer.”

He intertwined his fingers with yours, as if wanting to seal a pact under the moonlight. Together, you began to traverse the streets of Gotham, where the shadows whispered ancient secrets and the air was filled with the freshness of the night. Each step resonated like an echo of unspoken promises, and you felt the city around you pulse with new energy.

The gentle mist wrapped around both of you like a protective cloak, while the moonlight illuminated a path full of possibilities. In that moment, the city's hustle seemed to quiet, and all that mattered was the connection blossoming between you. The night of revelations became a prelude to a new story, a tale that was just beginning to be written beneath the stars, in a universe where love and friendship intertwined like shadows in the moonlight.

[the0doreslover]

Friends in the dark | m.r

In the shadowed halls of hogwarts, Mattheo Riddle, the enigmatic son of the feared Dark Lord, found himself grappling with conflicting emotions. The weight of his lineage bore heavily upon him, as did the burden of his own destiny. He was surrounded by whispers of power and conquest, yet a gnawing sense of emptiness gnawed at his heart.

Amidst the darkness, a glimmer of light emerged in the form of Y/N Potter, a witch who possessed a fiery spirit that matched her famous surname. Though they hailed from different worlds, their paths crossed one fateful evening during a clandestine encounter deep within the Forbidden Forest.

"I never thought I'd find anyone else wandering these woods at night." she said.

"Likewise. It's a place of solace for me." he replied

Their first meeting was marked by a sense of curiosity and wariness, an unspoken recognition of each other's struggles. Mattheo, accustomed to manipulation and deceit, found himself surprised by Y/N's genuine concern.

"You're Mattheo Riddle, aren't you?" she asked

“Yes, that's me."

She saw past the name he bore and glimpsed the boy within, trapped between loyalty and the longing for something more.

"You know… you don't have to be defined by your family. You have a choice."

As the moon cast its silvery glow upon the forest floor, Mattheo shared his fears and desires, confessing the internal conflict that tormented him.

"I'm torn between the path I've been born for and the one I secretly yearn for."

y/n in turn then voiced her worries

"Living up to the Potter name isn't easy. Everyone expects greatness from me because of harry."

Their conversations continued in secret, each encounter revealing more layers of their shared vulnerability. Mattheo discovered Y/N's passion for reading as well as poetry.

"You have bravery in you, Y/N. a certain type bravery I wish I could find within myself."

“maybe you just haven’t looked hard enough” the girl said giving him something to think about

Their bond deepened, and they found comfort in each other's presence.

"With you, I feel understood. I've never had that before." the boy voiced

"We're not as different as it seems. We both want something more." she replied

But their connection did not go unnoticed.

"Interesting company you keep, y/n." her friends would often say to her

hogwarts corridors became fraught with danger, and the choices they made could alter everything about their lives.

"We must be careful. Our friendship could have consequences." mattheo said one night before they sat and talked till the sun set.

In the heart of the forest, under the same moon that had witnessed their first meeting, Mattheo and Y/N vowed to support each other, and be each others lifeline.

"No matter what happens, we'll face it together." y/n made him promise one night

"Y/N, you've given me hope. Something I thought I'd lost."

the girl, in turn, found a confidante who understood the complexities of her world.

In the midst of a world torn between light and darkness, Mattheo Riddle and Y/N Potter discovered a rare and precious connection. United by their shared struggles and a shared desire for a different path, they forged a bond that would shape their destinies in ways neither could have anticipated. The love they shared couldn’t be described on paper

[rose-maidenn]

Chaos magick of Gemini-punarvasu , Devi Aditi and my personal takes , ft Wanda Maximoff

Before I start Aditi choses her power to create with peace and love always and though I have done some comparisons in no way am I against Wanda or my Goddess .

Also it's @azure-cherie here I'm back cause I had to share this with yall , a possible explanation would be that in a way I need a change and my life has been rapidly changing too , I will keep this blog low-key and less serious so I can focus on my life and post some interesting observations. I hope yall have been well I missed yall so so much

Let's begin :

Wanda is played by punarvasu moon Elizabeth Olsen . After the death of vision entirely fabricates another reality in the show Wanda vision , though she does not realise she causes pain and agony and separation to the people around her she formulates a husband and her kids , she wants a fairytale so she creates it , this goes to show the height of punarvasu illusion the world of fantasies and delusions one uses to protect themselves against the harshness of the reality , the grief in her is her is so large that it encompasses the creation of something new .

After the tear shed of ardra the grief in her creates something new a new world of wonders as the punarvasu renews the light, the renewal of light is often a creation accompanied by transformation and though the process might be of beauty the transformation is of generative power , the world often complains of suffering and pain the creatrix Aditi also created the matrix the sadness the happiness are all but fragments of her Maya she is Bhuvaneshwari all encompassing , she holds the power to lead you through transformation which ofcourse is preceded through the dark night of the soul .

Her grief makes her to form new realities one could call this a form of schizophrenia caused by ptsd that's what happens when the kick of magic falls in it creates new realities . One more example of this can be seen in Shelly Duvall , some articles claim her to be schizophrenic which was cause due to her trauma in life, she nevertheless lived a life of her choices. We all go to our childhood when we need a sense of peace we search paradise in it wanda's paradise was a 60s sitcom and the way out to reality was through facing her traumas that's what all of us have to go through once in a while .

As Agatha narrates wanda " This is chaos magick wanda , that makes you the scarlet witch " she narrates how Wanda is a being capable of spontaneous creation, she creates what she creates she does have power over herself but not over her chaos magick it protects her it empowers her . In the shastras there isn't much written about Aditi who she is where she emerges from etc she simply appears , she simply creates , she's simply a secret likewise life imitates the divinity , Agatha makes her know that she has been written about in the book of the damned . She also says her that she has power but a lack of knowledge, as she hasn't learned the basics of magick .

" The scarlet witch is not born she is forged, she has no coven , no need for incantation " likewise Aditi appears before the universe she creates the Trimurti , she creates Daksha and is Born to Daksha , she rules she creates she forms shes truth she is maya she is the lotus the divine swan . Agatha tells wanda how it's her destiny to destroy the world , to which wanda replies she never learned magic and ultimately wanda tries to protect her fabricated reality but it wears off , the darkhold takes control of her and she reappears in the multiverse of madness ( didn't watch it yet ) I know yet that she was forced by her mind into a new world of dark spells and craft but ultimately wanted to stop strange from doing the mistake that she herself did , she didn't die at the end of the movie as a red light shines " Scarlet witch is alive and breathing " her ways might be dark but her intentions were pure .

🌷My views on the entirety of the situation

Punarvasu bestows you with the gift of creation but it's in ones hand to channel it use it for the good and the bad , it's dependent on us .

The power is preceded by the dark night of the soul and intense situation of purge and fantasy and illusion to win against Maya one has to understand Maya likewise punarvasu has to go through it to understand the true power of themselves .

Punarvasu acts as the antihero in the dynamics of the world , we all mimic the deity of our nakshatra so do we mimick her , yes the world was created for peace and beauty but the cathonian question always arises that why there is so much pain in the world then? We complain to the divine mother our mother about the pain but can she eradicate pain because the eradication of the pain eradicates the chances of existence , the world is constantly jiggling between creation preservation and destruction one has to go through it all , you can blame the mother but can you truly blame her she's the antihero.

Punarvasu like a child goes on teaching when they themselves don't know enough, power without knowledge brings pain , in my personal experiences this is true , I believe I was in dire need of more knowledge that's what I'm seeking right now.

While scorpio engulfs power from the sources to their requirements they know what they deserve and so they can handle it while the gemini is a naive child who simply holds mostly without a vessal so cultivation of strong boundaries in punarvasu is essential for ones sanity . The power disparity in Scorpio and gemini sometimes creates fallouts between Scorpio and gemini because the Scorpio doesn't find the gemini worthy . But scorpios do bring enlightenment to geminis.

A hold upon our boundaries is the most crucial or else the generative engine that doesn't cause exhaustion starts causing delusion which taps into the darkside, start empowering yourself and in humbleness live a beautiful life . The beautiful life might call for you to disappear or just be silent but know that true power is one within ones mind it's not to be shown but just to be felt .

Om Aditi namah 🪷

Thank you so much for reading I believe I'm truly blessed by Aditi devi for the knowledge she imparted in me regarding this I feel blessed . Have a beautiful time ahead.

[betterworldinitiative]

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by General Strike US 🍉 (@thegeneralstrikeus)

This is how it’s done. Read and be inspired.

[doumadono]

EMERGENCY REQUEST

Hello my dear friend.. I apologize for using your emergency requests for something so trivial, but my nightmares have been absolutely killing me.. I'm always so terrified to go to sleep and even when I do, the nightmares plague me so badly that I hardly ever feel like I've slept at all and I feel like I'm losing my mind. I just want to scream and cry and rip my hair out, and I just want to sleep and actually FEEL like I've slept.

But all of that out of the way, I was hoping you might be able to do something with Douma, Akaza, and Kokushibo (all three or just one is fine) who are with a male human s/o who suffers terribly from night terrors and how they might help comfort their s/o.

Thank you so much for being such a beautiful, kind, loving, wonderful human being. I adore you so much 💜 You are truly such a warm presence in my life and I am so grateful for you

Upper Moons 1, 2, 3 & male s/o suffering with nightmares

A/N: oh, tiger, I'm so sorry to hear that you've been going through such a challenging time. Your well-being means a lot to me, you know that, and I'm here for you. First and foremost, your well-being is never trivial, and your struggles are always valid. Remember, it takes immense strength to share such vulnerabilities, and you've already taken a brave step. It's okay to feel overwhelmed, but never forget the strength that resides within you. I'm honored to be a part of your life, and your warmth and gratitude mean the world to me. Take one step at a time, and I'm here to support you through every single one. 💜 Always here for you

EMERGENCY REQS MASTERLIST

Douma

In the dimly lit room, shadows danced on the walls as Douma's boyfriend writhed in the grip of night terrors. Douma, the Upper Moon Two, lounged elegantly nearby, observing with an unsettling mix of curiosity and amusement. A sadistic grin played on his lips as he observed the torment consuming his partner's dreams.

Despite his typically twisted nature, Douma was surprisingly attuned to the human psyche. He approached the boyfriend's trembling form with a languid grace, like a predator closing in on its prey. "Oh, my dear," he purred, "how delightful it is to witness the chaos within your mind."

"It's terrifying, Douma-sama," the man sobbed. "I don't want to see all those things..."

As his arms encircled his partner, there was an unexpected gentleness in the demon's touch, as though he had momentarily set aside his sadistic tendencies to embrace a softer side. His long fingers with sharp nails traced patterns on the man's back, a delicate dance that contradicted the ferocity he often exhibited.

In a voice that, against all odds, carried a sweetness the man never thought possible from Douma, he whispered into the man's ear, "My love, do you feel the warmth of my embrace? It's a flame that burns brighter than any darkness." His breath was a soft caress against your skin, the chilling aura he usually exuded replaced by a comforting warmth.

He traced a finger along his boyfriend's cheek. "You know," he mused, "the beauty of your nightmares is exquisite. You need to embrace the terror, my love, for in it lies the true essence of existence."

Akaza

Akaza, the Upper Moon Three, approached the scene with empathetic demeanor. His eyes softened as he observed his boyfriend's restless sleep, a stark contrast to the ferocity he displayed in battle. Kneeling beside the man, he gently brushed a strand of hair from his face. "Hey there, don't worry. I'm here," Akaza spoke in a surprisingly soothing tone, his usual aggression replaced by a comforting warmth. "Nightmares can be tough, but you're tougher. Remember that."

The man sobbed quietly. "I hate it. I can't rest because of those nightmares. I feel so lost."

"We all carry burdens," the demon confessed, "but facing them head-on makes us stronger. You don't have to face them alone."

Seated together, Akaza allowed his partner to snuggle against him, his muscular frame providing a comforting warmth. His normally intense gaze softened, revealing a tenderness that was reserved for moments like these. His fingers traced soothing patterns along the man's back, a silent reassurance that the man was safe in his arms. "Hey," he spoke in a voice that rumbled like distant thunder, a stark contrast to the gentle caress of his touch. "You're safe here. No need to carry the weight of the world right now."

"It's alright to lean on others," he admitted, surprising himself with the admission. "We all need someone to rely on from time to time. So do I, a demon, whose fragility would be the last trait anyone could fathom."

Kokushibo

Kokushibo, the Upper Moon One, approached the situation with an air of detachment. He observed his partner's night terrors with an analytical gaze, as if deciphering a complex puzzle. While his demeanor remained cool, there was a subtle undertone of curiosity in his voice.

"Nightmares, a manifestation of the mind's deepest fears," Kokushibo remarked, his words carrying a wisdom earned through centuries, "One must confront the shadows within to achieve true serenity."

"It's hard to confront them, Kokushibo-sama. It's like being swallowed by some invisible force that no one can fight."

Rather than offering immediate comfort, Kokushibo encouraged introspection. He guided his boyfriend through a mental journey, dissecting the roots of the man's nightmares and addressing the underlying fears. His words, while cryptic, carried a strange sense of reassurance.

"Conquer your demons, and they shall trouble you no more," he declared, his gaze unwavering. Kokushibo's approach might seem cold, but it aimed at empowering his partner to face his fears head-on, emerging stronger from the depths of the night. "Confront the specters haunting your dreams with unwavering resolve. Your mind is a battlefield, and you, the warrior, hold the power to shape its narrative. Close your eyes, not in retreat, but in preparation. In the silence before sleep, let the echoes of your courage drown out the whispers of fear. Your resilience is a beacon that can pierce through the darkest of nights."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Second Chance 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Jonathan Pine

Summary: You move into your parents’ house as you try to rebuild your life, catching the attention of someone you never expected.

Part of the Brother’s Best Friend Universe

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

The next day, you acquiesce to your mother’s whims. There was rarely a time when you could deny her and the times you did, had her often reminding you of your ‘rebellious’ teenage years. You don’t bother to mention that wearing black and not wanting to hold her hand in public wasn’t much of a rebellion.

You just have to remember that this isn’t about you. Tandi doesn’t yet know the storm she’s marrying into. You’ll let her have her grace period before it truly sets in. It could be seconds, it could be months, but eventually, your mother will turn the screw.

You walk behind the pair through the crowded rows of the farmer’s market. They almost seem to forget you but that doesn’t bother you. You prefer it.

They stop at the soap booth and the battle of scent threatens to trigger a migraine. You hold your breath until Tandi finishes her purchase; some body scrub and a piece of soap that looks like a fruit parfait. Your mother opts for her own collection of cinnamon heart soap bars. You wonder where she’ll hide them as she only ever allowed white items in the bathroom; down to the soap and the shampoo.

“Do you have friends coming for the party then?” Your mother asks as they stroll along.

“Uh, yes, hopefully they can make it,” Tandi answers, “work and all that.”

“Of course, that’s understandable but it’s a very important event,” your mother chirps back, “do you have something to wear? You would look marvelous in rose.”

“I have some options,” your brother’s fiancee flick her hair back. “I was thinking it might be nice to do a brunch, rather than a dinner.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful. And of course,” your mother pauses, peering back over her shoulder as she recalls your mournful existence, “we can help.”

“That’s so sweet,” Tandi purrs.

“Well, you know, we haven’t much going on.”

You frown. It’s an obvious jab at your current predicament. It isn’t as if you haven’t been trying. You filled every open job posting you can find and haven’t heard back from a single one. Yet, your mother would never believe you to be helpless, just lazy.

“I’m going to find the bathroom,” you mutter but neither seems to hear or care.

You break away from them and delve into the crowd. You feel desolate in the roiling crowd. You don’t miss Ransom, or Hugh, or whatever he wanted you to call him that day, you just miss having someone else. Someone by your side to face the outside world. 

He never really was that, was he? You just convinced yourself he was. He settled for you and you thought that was good enough. You made yourself believe you were good enough.

You find the bathrooms and hide inside. You don’t need to go, you just need to get your shit together. You take out your phone and put on your rationed data so you can check your emails. Junk, junk, junk… ‘Invitation to Interview’. Huh.

You quickly scroll and scan the email, not wanting to waste the data. It’s nothing special, nothing as glorious as your previous job. It’s a customer service role at the local travel planner, a vibrant business among the burgeoning retirement community. It’ll have to do.

You flip the switch to disconnect from the network and emerge to wash your hands. You make your way back into the market and search among the tides. You wander in circles until you find the duo. They sit at the cafe bar in the corner, drinks in front of them, and a set of half-eaten scones. They didn’t wait for you or even think to grab you something.

You shrug it off. You think you might have been wrong. Again. Your mother isn’t going to bulldoze this daughter, no, Tandi is going to be the daughter she never had. Jaydon always was her favourite; the infallible baby boy.

💋

You accept the invitation. The pay is barely above minimum wage and the role is tedious but it’s all you’ve got. You don’t tell your parents, not wanting to disappoint them. It would be better to surprise them with good news, not let them down with another failure.

You find the nicest skirt you could salvage in your hasty retreat from the city. You sneak out through the back as the rest of the house delights in their perfect fairy tale. You’d rather have a stuffy interview than to bear another day of fake smiling and dulled blades aimed at your throat.

The agency isn’t very far. The bus takes you to the core of the town and your heels click down the half-block to the storefront painted with palm trees and beach umbrellas. You peek inside before you enter and check the information on your phone just to be sure. You’re early.

A woman named Brenda greets you and tells you to wait in the seats meant for clients. You fidget as the clock ticks in the quiet office until she finishes with the old couple at her desk in the tight cubicle. They leave, happy, and she invites you back.

It isn’t anything beyond the usual; what will you bring to this job? When’s a time you had to be spontaneous? How would you handle a disgruntled customer? You recite the acceptable answers and at the end, she offers you the job. You don’t think it’s because you’re anything exceptional but judging by the two-hundred days the posting’s been up, there hasn’t been much interest. You both are ready to take the first thing that comes along.

She sends you off with a smile and you try not to let your fake one fall before you’re out of the office. Out of the sight of the windows, you let your shoulders drop and sigh. It’s good news, you got a job, but somehow you think your parents will find a damper. ‘How much does it pay? What do you do? Oh, that’s a starter job.’

Well, dad, mom, I am starting over. I fucked up. I built nothing but a disaster.

You round the corner and stumble as suddenly you hit a wall you don’t expect. You stagger until you’re caught by firm hands around your upper arms. You gulp and your eyes round as they meet another pair, blue and bold. Jonathan grins as he issues an apology and your own tumbles off your tongue.

“I wasn’t… looking,” you murmur.

“Quite alright,” his hands linger on your arms and you wriggle. “Neither was I.”

He laughs at himself and you look down at his hold on you. He squeezes before he lets go and drops his hands to his side. He tucks them into his pockets. He’s dressed effortlessly in a pair of gray slacks and powder blue pullover.

“Special occasion?” He wonders as he looks you up and down.

You peek at your skirt. It’s nothing special. Pinstripe, black, pencil cut. It doesn’t fit you the way it used to. You think Ransom noticed that too…

“Job interview,” you shrug.

“Oh, exciting. So when do you hear back?”

You rub your neck and sway. He’s just being nice. He’s always been polite, on the outside, but you saw the antics he got up to with Jaydon. He always had that charming grin for your mother but never hesitated to cause chaos with your menace of a brother.

“You don’t have to ask. Really. It’s not a big deal.”

“Mm, well, what if I genuinely want to know?” 

There he is, that oppositional twerp. You blow out between your lips and smile, “I got the job. It’s at the travel agency so… big whoop.”

“Big whoop indeed,” he remarks, “I’d say we should celebrate with a drink but I’d also say you sound like you need one. Desperately.”

You meet his eyes again. You squint. Was he always this handsome? Or is that another trick of time? You pack on some love handles and you look chronically tired, but his lines only refine him, his age becomes him.

“That’s nice but I should head home.”

“Why? So you can listen to Jay brag about his convertible? Even I’m over that. He’d do better with something economic but he always knows best, doesn’t he?”

You scoff, “wow, sounds like you had quite the reunion.”

“Well, time changes us all,” he says, “but you always were more fun to drink with.”

[loveandlegacy]

nothing ever stays dead: part i

jinx, viktor, death, and rebirth

tumblr is forcing me to break this up into multiple parts because there's a limit to the number of images you can have in a single post 💀. find part ii here. also if you find a zillion typos in these.....no you didn't

anyway.... onward to:

i don't think this is an especially novel take to say that viktor functions as a kind of death-symbol in the story of arcane, but what i do think is neat, and what i haven't seen often discussed is the way that arcane positions jinx and viktor together as parallel symbols of death and rebirth.

i made a kind of joke post about it, and about how i think these parallels seem like they're going to get reinforced in season 2, but i started this essay even before the s2 trailers dropped and i wanted to spend some time trying to be a little more rigorous about where i think these parallels emerge.

to start, it’s interesting to me that jinx and viktor are both native to the undercity but operate separately in piltover and zaun for all of season 1. subsequently, their respective symbolisms run side by side throughout the story only really directly intersect/intertwine (kinda) in ep 5, everybody wants to be my enemy.

in the episode, we get a the montage sequence of pressure points where various characters have to deal with ruptures or fractures in their self-concepts or their planned trajectories. a moment with jinx sets this montage off, setting the stage for the death/rebirth themes.

jinx goes through a figurative rebirth in a pseudo-baptism - which is followed by a fade-to-black and then really abrupt return to reality with the shimmer bubbles. we already know shimmer is a transformative substance and that it will play a part in the much more violent and direct near-death-to-rebirth pipeline for jinx later in the story. it’s an interesting pattern of foreshadowing for jinx all on its own.

but! rather than having her arc proceed alone on that trajectory, the moment braids with viktor’s a few scenes later, in the same montage. where jinx has a ritual moment of death-rebirth, viktor’s character ‘rupture' is his very literal post-brush-with-death awakening.

they are both somewhat consumed by darkness in these moments. jinx literally disappears into it, but viktor also is only half-visible bc of how the light falls on him in this shot in the hospital room. both characters dissolve into a veil of something unknowable to us, the living audience.

in this way, these shots unify them in their nearness to death. our last glimpse of jinx as she disappears under the water is an overhead closeup shot, and then a few scenes later, our first sight of viktor in the hospital bed is also an overhead wide shot, with that camera eventually pulling into a tight closeup of just his face.

viktor’s for-real brush with death changes the trajectory of his life while jinx undergoes her symbolic death and rebirth, and we see them as supine figures sinking down into these roles that are shrouded by darkness.

to drive their matching paths home, as many other people have already pointed out, the cut immediately following viktor's scene and the thing that breaks us out of the montage altogether is a shot of the death and magician cards with jinx's little criss-cross symbol in the hands of the magician.

episode 5 is significant in how closely it positions jinx and viktor to each other. they never interact over the course of the season and we don’t even really have evidence that either one of them knows who the other is. at most, they have access to fragments of each other — jinx has a hexgem, viktor helps dismantle one of jinx’s bombs.

but their matched symbolism actually pops up everywhere.

following enemy - but not following the actual temporal progression of events in-world, which is interesting - more parallels between their stories emerge. viktor's journey with life and death is always a few steps ahead of jinx's, but their paths are tied together through a two specific devices: physical location and bodily transformation.

physical location

maybe the first thing condemning them to this trajectory is the fact that they are the only two characters aside from silco himself who have direct interactions with singed. out of the entire cast, singed is arguably the most visually and narratively underworld-coded character in the entire series. we never see him 'above' ground, and the only time we ever glimpse him in natural sunlight is in his cove, where the shot composition presents the location as a place physically sunken into the earth and also vignetted in heavy shadow, creating a visual border of darkness that breaks the area off from the rest of the world.

just as jinx and viktor were disappearing into shadow in episode 5, singed's crater-world emerges from shadow in our first glimpse of it in episode 6.

his character design also leans pretty heavily on death-imagery. before jinx accidentally burns silco's first shimmer production pipeline to the ground and also fries singed Severely, the silhouette for singed’s face emphasizes the structure of his skull more than any other character's. yeah he's maybe somewhat emaciated, but on a design level he also just has a Death Face (a skull) with very little to soften it.

with singed set up as the steward of some under-other-world, his home functions as the physical location where the boundary between life and death is thinnest.

in the chronological sequence of events — but presented non-chronologically in the story — child-viktor’s first encounter with singed requires him to take a journey that follows the logic of a katabasis through the visual language of the camera.

in episode 6, viktor loses his little boat. to recover it, he has to chase it by first entering a tunnel that leads deeper underground (low camera angle; he's traveling downwards towards us, the audience, but also into the earth). for a moment, the implication is that neither we nor viktor can see his boat. as the scene unfolds, we the viewers then have to pass through darkness (!) before the boat becomes visible again in a place that's distinctly different from the site where viktor fell: a slow-moving stream adorned with preternatural plant life.

and all this for the wayward little boat to lead viktor directly to singed and his underground other-world, teeming as it is with the raw materials used to manufacture shimmer.

in mythology, a katabasis is the journey a hero takes into the underworld. the word is greek in origin but the process is not unique to greek myth and, depending on the story, the hero undertakes the journey for any number of reasons. regardless of the origin of any given katabasis myth, the notable point is that the process of going to the world of the dead usually changes the hero in some way that isn't possible by any means other than putting themselves in proximity to death.

in viktor's case, the most comparable myths are odysseus, who travels to the border of the underworld to receive knowledge and prophetic warnings from the dead, and odin, who kills himself as a ritual sacrifice and, in his 9 days of death, receives prophetic visions and various supernatural abilities that he manifests once he returns to the living world.

viktor isn't an epic hero in the same way as odin or odysseus, but his journey through darkness — which episode 5 established as a kind of occluding veil between the living and the dead — follows the logic of a katabasis. following his boat takes him to a specific location: singed's underworld. there, he unhappily gains knowledge about shimmer and its nearly necromantic properties that, at that point in the story, only singed seems to be aware of.

on a literal level, viktor stands close to death through rio, whose life singed is trying to save. but he's close to death on a symbolic level in singed's domain, whose visual presentation situates it as both underground and also somewhat detached from the rest of the undercity.

singed's home is even circumscribed by water! a parallel to greek myth in which water plays a crucial role in underworld's geography; the souls of the dead and the epic heroes who travel deeper into the underworld must cross the river styx — ferried there by charon just as viktor's little clockwork boat ferried him to singed's doorstep.

so viktor's childhood descent exposes him to knowledge that he can't fully grasp.

at least not until much later in life when he makes his second katabasis in which he claims to understand the knowledge singed provided to his younger self and also gains new insight into both shimmer and the nature of the hexcore that, according to the broader story, no one but singed can provide.

in between these two descents, jinx is born (figuratively, as jinx; maybe literally also as powder) and undergoes her baptism at silco's hands.

baptism isn't the same thing as katabasis, but some denominations in christianity position it as a necessary step in the process of rebirth for believers, allowing them to shed the polluted self of their past (sinful) life and be born anew, incorporated into the spirit of christ. like greek katabasis in particular, baptism allows the believer to be reborn and therefore changed without necessarily requiring a physical death first. in symbolic parallel to the greek underworld, baptism requires a 'passage' through water for the rebirth and transformation to take place.

the baptism in arcane obviously has nothing to do with christianity or religious impulses, but it does shroud jinx in a specific kind of death-aura in the same way that viktor's twinned descents do for him. silco even sets this symbolism up for us when he tells jinx directly that she has to 'let powder die' after he describes how he was born anew after vander attempted to kill him.

as mentioned earlier, even though the unfolding narrative initially shows us viktor's first katabasis after we’ve seen jinx's baptism, he undertakes his journey long before jinx is baptized in the in-world chronology. his actual almost-death chronologically happens after his first katabasis. following this logic, the story makes a point: a symbolic proximity to death precedes and preordains a literal one.

viktor makes his first descent as a child. then, as an adult, his illness leaves him coughing up blood in his lab and shatters his life with a terminal prognosis. after his figurative brush with death, he receives an actual death sentence. jinx's story follows a similar pattern. her baptism provides her with the symbolic death-and-rebirth cycle, but three episodes later, in oil and water (ep 8), we find that her confrontation with ekko has left her close to actual physical death — and brings her into singed’s domain aka the specific physical location where life and death bleed most into each other.

in this specific place, jinx who is otherwise a very physically dynamic character, is sapped of all strength. she’s semi-lucid on a vivisection an examination table. the camera positions her like a person entombed. when we see her face, she's presented in a close up and on her back horizontally in the frame, like we, the audience, are laying next to her. parallel to her, we’re in a position of equal (minimal) power.

but when we see what jinx sees, it is always from below. the avatars of vi and powder stand above her, positioned at first outside of this underworld delirium and in an electric-red world. the implicit land of the living is not only above jinx and out of her reach, but also too garish, loud, and terrifying for someone whose vitality is slipping away.

caitlyn/singed also loom over jinx, with the camera sitting low, looking up at them.

obviously this is in part because jinx is tied to a table, but the framing tells us more than that. the living stand somewhere above the dying. the living possess a kind of energy that the dying lack; they can move while the dead can only watch.

jinx is helpless, stuck in the location that the story has synonymized with the underworld, becoming both a corpse and something like a ghost, while the living are able to glide through and interact with the world effortlessly.

but this near-death isn't permanent. as silco says: she won't die, doctor. she can’t. and it's true. jinx’s baptism was her katabasis — a symbolic promise of what eventually unfolds in singed’s gloomy underworld. when she almost dies for real, his treatment rebirths her, painfully and dramatically, and transforms her. (<- onward to part ii)

[mskenway97]

Hello! I have a Transformers question and an idea 👍

First: the autobots symbol. What is the origin? I mean... This is the representation of the first prime or of Primus face? I never didn't understand.

Second: idea/request. What if OP, bayverse movie, partner (romantically or friendship whatever you want) is a blind human female? She's been tortured by decepticons 😨

Thanks 🙌🙌🙌

I find the first question very curious and you have. in fact the logo was created because of this:

the designer who came up with the Autobot emblem used a stylized representation of Prowl's toy head as a source of inspiration (Prowl is the Autobot military strategist). In the world of Marvel Comics, the distinctive red mask is often referred to as the "Autobrand".

According to official legend, the Autobot symbol was created in reference to the face of the Last Autobot, the guardian Primus prepared, before the day when he could no longer restrain his own army. By the way, we cannot fail to mention that the same sign was used as the symbol of the slave brand Quintesson.

And from the second question, I have created a small scenario more related to friendship and partenership:

Darkness, infinite was the only thing, the Decepticons had tortured her in a thousand ways to discover the location of NEST, y/n was a soldier of the first humans closest to the autobots. No y/n opened his mouth to snitch, he wasn't a snitch the wounds on his body were nothing serious until they decided to take his sight…. When the autobots rescued him it was too late, it was irreparable damage. Ratchet did everything he could for y/n….. It was so complicated to do day to day things, to be guided more by touch, sound, to learn differently than reading, writing…. Her day to day life literally changed… She heard a familiar sound, maybe she only saw darkness but that confusing sound was Optimus, since the rescue he kept coming to see her. She felt a little wind in front of her, the noise of the hydraulic presses around, the house of y/n was in a more distant area to be closer to the base in case of emergency and in this case to be able to take better care of her. -Optimus? - she asked as she grabbed a guide stick to carefully exit the house, stumbling at the exit to feel that something metallic had grabbed her.

-You should be more careful," Optimus lectured her a little. And/n chuckled a little as she tried to get a little positioned - You know I always feel like it when you get here. Optimus pulled her a little closer, face to face.

Optimus every time he looked at the dull eye color that y/n had, instead of y/c of eyes that sparkled every time she smiled, that she got angry, those looks of complicity they had in meetings, only to see that when she was rescued, those eyes had lost their essence…. It made him squeeze his other servo and change only his expression of frustration and anger. "If only it had taken less time, if only I had arrived before she was in so much pain…. It's my fault…" Optimus thought but those frantic thoughts were interrupted by smaller hands passing over his face.

-Again thinking about what happened? - said y/n

-I can't help it, you didn't deserve to end up like this, Optimus said in frustration, y/n stroked his faceplate.

-What's done is done… At least I'm alive, if it weren't for you. I would continue with the experiments. You saved my life

-But you paid a high price for that," said Optimus as he pulled her closer to his chassis. Y/n leaned in as she heard the pulse of his spark - It wasn't your fault…. Even if you can't see, you see only this eternal darkness…. Your mere presence brings me light among the shadows," said Y/n leaving Optimus surprised as he pulled her closer to him. They stayed like that for a while, until Optimus decided to help her with her holoform exercises. Maybe she lost her sight… but he swore by Primus that he would never ever leave her side. He would be her light and her guide for the rest of her life.

[dreamscribee]

⚝Unspoken Bond⚝

°。°。°。°。°。。°。°。°。°。°°。°。°。°。°。。°。°。°。°。°

༯ Namami x reader ༯ Summary: Nanami has always had a crush on you but never admitted it; however, an incident happens that may bring those feelings to life.

༯ Word Count: 398 (words), 2,463 (characters)

°。°。°。°。°。。°。°。°。°。°°。°。°。°。°。。°。°。°。°。°

Since the first day at Jujutsu High, Namami Kento harbored a silent crush on you, always too hesitant to act, convinced you didn’t reciprocate his feelings. One day, you approached him with your characteristic warmth. “Nanami, did you catch what the assignment was today? I wasn’t paying attention.”

A bit flustered, he nodded. “Y-yes, I can help you if you want.”

“That would be perfect. We could study together, if that's alright with you?” you suggested.

Blushing, he nodded again and followed you to the library. Years have passed since then, and though you graduated and drifted apart, Namami’s fond feelings remained. Now, as a full-fledged sorcerer, he cherished seeing you more often, enjoying the closeness that had rekindled since your school days.

During your lunch break one day, Principal Yaga summoned you abruptly to his office. Sighing at your unfinished meal, you headed over.

“Y/N, there's been an emergency, and we need your unique skills to dispel a powerful curse,” Yaga explained gravely.

“Understood. I’ll head there immediately,” you assured him, determination steeling your features.

“Stay safe, Y/N,” Yaga called out as you departed.

Upon arrival, the situation was hostile. Fellow sorcerers struggled against the curse's might, barely maintaining control. Spotting one who seemed on the brink of collapse, you took charge. “Stand down, I've got it from here. Ensure your partner is safe, and call for backup. This is more serious than Yaga anticipated.”

Grateful, he nodded and hurried to assist his partner while you advanced to confront the curse head-on. However, in your focus, you lost track of the elusive entity. While investigating, the curse ambushed you, overpowering you with a sudden blast of a strange, goo-like substance. The world dimmed as you fell into darkness…

When you awoke, it was to the sight of Namami’s concerned face, hovering close. “You’re safe now,” he murmured, relief evident in his tone.

Confused and trying to piece together what happened, you realized Namami had not only tracked you down but also defeated the curse that had bested you. This act of bravery shifted something between you; perhaps it was time to address the feelings that had long simmered beneath the surface.

As you both recuperated from the ordeal, you found yourself considering not just the dangers of your profession, but also the possibility of exploring something deeper with Namami—something that, until now, had been left unsaid.