#there is a high possibility that this was supposed to be obvious and I am just Slow

[harrumphingtons]

yall I just realized that since sol regem is still blind and Pharos was supposed to be his eyes and Pharos was the one possessed by Aaravos, sol regem possibly had no idea that he was destroying katolis and not the Sunfire armies

he probably wouldn’t care who was destroying either considering he hates humans but still

[kaiijo]

ROMANCE TROPES — [HAIKYUU]

characters: hinata shoyo, miya atsumu, bokuto koutarou, sakusa kiyoomi content: gn! reader, the msby four, rich sakusa (i am a rich sakusa truther until the end), bokuto picks you up, sakusa is implied to be taller than you notes: omg i lowkey want to do a fuller version of sakusa’s part 

hinata shoyo ✶ love at first sight

slouched in a plastic airport seat, hinata’s leg bounces anxiously as he awaits his flight. rain beats down the side of the windows and he prays to whatever universal force there is that the flight leaves at the right time. he couldn’t fly with everyone else earlier since he celebrated his grandmother’s birthday with family but it put him on a late night flight that lined up with an incoming storm. 

he scrolls mindlessly through his social media feed, double-tapping a photo of oikawa’s reunion with his high school team and tanaka’s anniversary post for kiyoko. 

the speaker system crackles to life. “attention, passengers of flight 7644 to sapporo, due to inclement weather conditions, the flight has been delayed an estimated two hours. we apologize for the inconvenience and thank you for your patience.”

hinata curses under his breath, already on his way to pulling up the black jackals’s group chat to tell them. he pulls his cap off, running a hand through his hair with a long sigh. his phone begins to buzz with texts, no doubt from his coach telling him to keep them updated. 

he rests his forearms on his knees, slumping forward and skimming through the messages. then, he feels a cautious tap on his shoulder and a soft voice asks, “excuse me, do you have a charger i could use?”

when he looks up, hinata thinks the greater powers that be answered a different prayer of his. because holy shit he has never seen anyone as beautiful as you. you’re in a comfy-looking pullover and sweatpants and hinata only realizes he’s just been staring silently for a few seconds when your expression turns apologetic. “i’m sorry to bother you, i’ll ask someone else!”

“no, no, i’m sorry,” he says, words tumbling out of his mouth. he scrambles to unzip his backpack, rummaging through until he triumphantly pulls out his charger. he hands it to you and you thank him. before you can leave, he blurts out, “i’m hinata.”

“oh!” you stick your hand out and tell him your name with a small smile and when you do, hinata knows that he’s gone. 

miya atsumu ✶ brother’s best friend

osamu’s not sure how atsumu managed to weasel his way into his plans. it was a bit of a blur, atsumu practically crashing through the door of onigiri miya as osamu closed up shop to go get drinks with you, begging to be included. he supposes to reason was pity and atsumu’s pleading look as well as the fact that you work far away that had him agreeing to his brother tagging along. 

it was in your last year of high school that osamu figured out his brother had a big, fat crush on you. honestly, it should have been more obvious, especially with the way atsumu flaunted himself and often paraded around the house shirtless when he knew you were coming over. it bothered him at first, thinking bitterly that ‘tsumu couldn’t let him just have one thing to himself? but over time, the annoyance faded as he saw atsumu prove that this wasn’t just a flight-of-fancy, and osamu has already made peace with the very real possibility that you could be his in-law someday. that is, is atsumu could even tell you in the first place.

it’s a little disturbing, osamu thinks, watching the way atsumu flirts with you and wondering if he too makes the same googly-eyes at someone he’s crushing on or if that’s the way he sounds. you giggle when atsumu tries to take a sip of your margarita, telling him, “order your own then, ‘tsumu!”

“nah, yours tastes way better.”

“can’t take this scrub anywhere,” osamu says, earning a laugh from you and a glare from his twin.

you pat atsumu’s shoulder and osamu can’t believe you don’t feel how atsumu melts into your touch. “i’m actually glad both of you are here,” you say, “because i wanted to tell you guys that i’m moving back to tokyo! my boss promoted me so i’m back at main headquarters! isn’t that great?”

“that’s awesome,” osamu says, speaking for both himself and atsumu, who looks like he just won the lottery. 

bokuto koutarou ✶ opposites attract

whenever akaashi introduces you and bokuto as a couple to new people, he always gets pulled over to the side and asked in a whisper, “how did those two get together? he’s so… and they’re less…” 

akaashi can’t say that he wasn’t surprised when you and bokuto started dating back in high school, given that they two of you were on very different trajectories. obviously, bokuto was the captain of fukurodani’s volleyball team while you were student council president and vice-president of chess club. bokuto’s grade sat at the lower end of the spectrum while you were always within the top five students in your class. bokuto liked loud, screaming parties while you preferred a quiet night with a few friends. 

so when bokuto grabbed him by the shoulders one day and shook him, saying that he needed to tell you how he felt, akaashi was taken off-guarded. he didn’t even know you knew each other beyond having a mutual friend, him. 

maybe back then, akaashi would have agreed with the person asking him but now, he just tells them to observe the two of you. because when akaashi does, everything falls into place. like right now, as he and bokuto sit in the stands, watching your final chess match. if you win, you’ll hold onto your spot as a national champion and go on to compete internationally. 

out of the corner of his eyes, akaashi watches as bokuto sits at the very edge of his seat, chewing on his bottom lip. it’s clearly killing him not to cheer and it’s a testament to both his devotion to you. your hand hovers above the bishop before you switch quickly to the queen and move the piece with confidence, setting it down and announcing, “checkmate.”

the crowds erupts into the cheers and you’ve only barely finished shaking your opponent’s hand when bokuto flies out of his seat and barrels towards you. he sweeps you off your feet, spinning you once and setting you down before planting a big kiss on your cheek. you’re beaming as you’re handing your trophy, and bokuto steps back to let you soak up your spotlight. akaashi can’t help but notice that bokuto is beaming too and clapping the loudest. 

as the crowd starts to disperse, akaashi and bokuto join you again, ready to take you to your planned dinner. before you leave, bokuto says, “i was going to do this later but i can’t hold it in anymore, babe.” and he gets down on one knee with a ring box akaashi is all-too familiar with. 

sakusa kiyoomi ✶ reunited childhood sweethearts 

“try not to look so dour, sweetheart,” sakusa’s mother tells him as she fixes his tie. sakusa wants to grumble some choice words but he knows better than to complain to her. besides, he’s only partially paying attention, eyes darting about the crowd and back towards the venue’s entrance. 

he settles on adjusting his mask with a barely audible sigh and mumbles a quiet thanks as she flits to fuss over his older siblings. he glances again, disappointed as a different group of people waltzes in. he knows his older sister wouldn’t be so cruel as to lie to him that your family will be in attendance but the anxiety is making his antsy.

the two of you were inseparable as children with you being one of his only friends growing up.  you spent you days squirreled away in some nook reading or outside playing volleyball. your mothers always cooed that you two would get together one day, and as he got older and learned what that really meant, sakusa found himself hoping too. but then your parents took you and your siblings abroad, leaving him alone and heartbroken. he cut you off, hoping the distances and time would make your departure hurt less, but it didn’t.

sakusa doesn’t recognize the voice that calls his name but his head snaps towards the doorway. you’re standing in between your older sister and younger brother, waving at him. his heart skips a beat. your social media postings don’t do you enough justice; you’re even more attractive that the pixels he’s spent hours staring at. 

you still have that ever-present smile on your face and you quickly break-off from your family to bound over to him. without even thinking, his arms close around you as you embrace him tightly. you feel so familiar and he doesn’t want to let you go as you part. evidently, you don’t either as you keep him close still, only leaning away to look at him. “you’re so tall,” you laugh, more shyly you add, “and very handsome.”

this time, sakusa thinks his heart stops. 

[capquinn]

here i am yet again hope you’re not over me yapping in your inbox all the time

i think about quinn revealing the big news that he’s gonna be a dad to jack & luke, maybe he’d get them mugs or tshirts that say ‘uncle’ and it takes them a hot minute to put the pieces together 😭

oh my god it would be absolute chaos, but in the most brotherly way possible.

Picture this: they’re in town for a couple of nights because it’s tradition at this point — late-night card games, takeout from Quinn’s favourite spot, and banter so constant you can’t even keep up. But this time, you and Quinn have a little extra something planned, and of course, he thinks he’s a genius about it.

So, the night before, Quinn had pulled out two brand-new mugs from the cupboard, bold lettering on each one: World’s Greatest Uncle.

“They’ll get it immediately,” he’d assured you, his confidence solid. “It’s so obvious.”

Except, now, it’s breakfast, and things aren’t exactly going to plan.

Quinn places the mugs in front of them casually, setting Jack’s next to his plate of eggs and Luke’s beside his toast.

“Sorry,” he says, far too nonchalantly, “we’re out of clean mugs. You’ll have to use these.”

Jack picks his up, squinting at it.

“World’s greatest uncle?” he reads aloud, glancing at Luke. “Why do you even have these? Did one of your friends have a kid or something?”

Luke furrows his brow at his own mug, swallowing a bite of toast.

“Why are there two of them?” he asks. “You don’t even know that many people with kids.”

Jack laughs, shaking his head. “This is so random, dude,” he says, taking a sip from it like nothing is amiss.

Across the kitchen, Quinn sips his coffee, his expression unreadable except for the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. You bite back a laugh as Jack and Luke spiral into a completely unrelated tangent about Quinn’s supposed lack of kitchenware, but your gaze meets Quinn’s over your mug, and you know he’s thinking the same thing: how are they this dense?

It’s not until you and Quinn have retreated to the couch that the lightbulb finally flickers to life. From the kitchen, you hear the low murmur of Jack’s voice, a scrape of chairs, and then:

“Quinn?”

Quinn turns slightly on the couch, his arm resting along the back as he glances at them over his shoulder. Jack and Luke are standing there, mugs in hand, expressions somewhere between confused and dawning realisation. Jack holds his mug up like it’s a crucial piece of evidence in a high-stakes case, his brow furrowed deeply.

“Are you guys having a baby?” he says, his voice a little louder, eyes wide.

Quinn’s lips twitch, the faintest ghost of a smile forming as he leans back against the couch.

“Yep,” he says, his tone calm and easy, like he wasn’t just waiting for this exact moment.

Jack’s reaction is instant. The second the realisation hits, he’s shoving the mug into Luke’s hand, muttering a distracted, “hold this,” before practically vaulting over the back of the couch. He crashes into Quinn with a hug so forceful it nearly sends them both sprawling, his arms locking around Quinn like he’s trying to squeeze the news out of him all over again.

You can’t help but laugh, reaching out instinctively to steady them, your hand bracing Quinn’s shoulder as he struggles to keep his balance. Jack is grinning ear to ear, smacking Quinn on the back hard enough to make him wince.

“Holy shit, bro!” Jack exclaims, his voice booming with excitement. “This is huge! Congrats!”

Quinn huffs out a laugh, his arms coming up to return the hug, even though Jack is practically squeezing the air out of him.

“Thanks, Jack,” he says, his voice a mix of amusement and affection.

Luke, meanwhile, is still standing there with both mugs now, his brow furrowed in confusion as he processes what just happened. He glances between the mug, you, and his brothers like he’s replaying the moment in his head, trying to make sense of it.

Finally, he looks at you, his eyes wide.

“Wait, you’re serious?” he asks, his tone softer, tinged with awe. “You’re really having a baby?”

You nod, your grin widening as Luke’s expression shifts, the dawning realisation giving way to pure joy. He sets the mugs down carefully — because apparently, someone has to — and moves around the couch to wrap you in a hug.

“This is insane,” he says, his voice warm and full of excitement. “You’re gonna be parents. Holy shit. Quinn’s gonna be a dad.”

Jack pulls back, his grin turning mischievous as he claps Quinn’s shoulder.

“Better you than me, bro,” he says with a laugh.

Quinn rolls his eyes, but his smile doesn’t falter.

“Yeah, thanks, Jack,” he says, the dryness in his tone failing to mask the warmth underneath.

[eccentricallygothic]

| Forbidden Fruit |

Description: Forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest. 

Pairing: Pedri | Naive Rodrygo's Gf!You. 

Disclaimer: This is merely a fanfic which does not represent anyone mentioned in any way. It contains mature content and morally grey themes so browse at your own discretion, please. Minors do not interact.  

Warning: Possible angst, infidelity (you), rough sex, unprotected p-in-v, Pedri is mean, doggy style, dirty talk, hair pulling, cunnilingus, Pedri’s beard, Pedri is morally grey, the Barca/La Masia boys are a bunch of meanies, minor exhibitionism, Daddy kink, minor spanking, hair pulling, deep throating. 

Note: I am an outrageous slut.

. 

It was supposed to be a harmless little term; a gesture of goodwill. 

The rivalry had gone on between the two clubs for too long. 

After careful deliberations and many dialogues, you were handpicked as the answer. 

The very private girlfriend of Rodrygo Goes who just happened to be one of the best English instructors available in the country as you had found employment in Spain since you didn't like to depend on others -like your dear boyfriend- too much. 

You.

Plain old little you; 

Gullible, naive, sweet, kind, helpful and passionate towards your profession. 

An attempt at peace, for good. 

Although your boyfriend and his club mates were dubious to let you go into the ‘enemy's’ den, you had innocently assured them that it was your duty as an instructor and that you would be fine since you were a big girl. 

… Until you walked through the doors of the room that had been made into a classroom for you and the relentless younger line like the La Masia boys had you teary-eyed under 10 minutes. 

And so you learnt the hard way that you weren't that big a girl after all.  

Hushed whispers, chuckles, taunts, snickers, anonymous yells and the like were thrown at you one after another. 

“You telling me this little girl will teach us English?” You looked around the many faces to see who it was but Gavi was so quick with his words that his mouth was motionless before you could locate him. 

“Go back to your pretty little white palace Princess!” Your bottom lip quivered as you looked at Fermin and felt betrayed since he had seemed nice enough when you had first entered. 

The laughing was the worst part.

They were loud, fast, cruel and overwhelming. 

Though every cell of your body made you want to rush out of the room, you tightened your laces and raised your chin up high before somehow managing through the rest of the session. 

That, and some kind interventions by the older players and Xavi, of course. 

It was only when you had jumped upon being approached by Pedri while waiting for your ride to arrive had you realized just how badly you still trembled even though the class had ended some long minutes ago. 

“You okay?” He was the only one who had remained completely silent during the entirety of the session, contributing to neither side and remaining aloof in a corner with his dark hawk-like gaze set on you. 

Though you had naively thought it the innocent stare of a student, you lived to learn it had been anything but. 

“Y- Yeah” as if on cue, your bottom lip sensitively wobbled again and Pedri's gaze didn't spare a minute flickering down to the movement. 

His Adam's apple bobbed as he silently gulped, wetting his mouth with his pink tongue as he let out a little sigh. “They're… Just… You… It's not…” One of his hands escaped the pockets of his sweatshirt to run over the back of his head. You quietly stared back with your brows raised curiously. “Don’t take them too seriously. They like to play around and sometimes they get real rough real fast” a small smile made its way onto your face. He felt responsible for them and was considerate of your feelings. “But it's not coming from a bad place, honest. They're just stupid kids is all” what a sweet guy, you thought. 

If only. 

You didn't know how it escaped your notice.

It wasn't like he didn't make it obvious. 

Always making it a point to visit you after sessions, staying with you until your driver arrived, seeing you off, sometimes leaning a bit too close or letting his friendly touch on your arm linger for a bit too long. 

But it was still all fun and games until one day he declared that he wanted to return the favor by teaching you some useful things in return. 

He had realized from the way you spoke of your relationship that you weren't much experienced and so you were sweetly content with whatever your tender lover gave you.

Of course, you panicked at first when you found yourself being backed against a table in a dark little storage room after you had skeptically agreed to the offer, whimpering next to the intimidating guy who always stared at you like a predator despite your friendship 

“Don't you want to learn how to make him feel good too? Or are you a selfish little girl who only wants to take and take but never give back?” Your bottom lip jutted out at his mean words. 

“O- Of course not!” You huffed, feeling the blood boil under your cheeks. “I am n- not like that! Who doesn't want to make their partner feel good?!” 

You weren't that stupid. 

You knew exactly what he was doing. 

And though you pretended to be outraged by the proposition at first, you were equally -if not more- excited to have his body on yours. 

So you let him teach you.

And boy, did the guy know how to fuck. 

His thick, hard and veiny cock felt hot and arousing in your fist that day as he nearly devoured your face with his mouth. 

Pedri took his sweet time with you by going one step at a time.

Carefully molding and shaping you according to his tastes to make of you the perfect little fucktoy. 

“Yeah, baby. Just like that, such a good girl” his voice would always deepen so dangerously low as he would often dip his head down so his warm lips would move against your ear. “Such a fast little learner, aren't you? So enthusiastic to learn how she can be good for her Daddy” that was the name he had chosen for himself since he couldn't be called your man.

You weren't sure if he even wanted to.

It was wrong. 

So, so fucking wrong. 

Unfair.

But it felt good. 

He felt good. 

Great. 

Immaculate.

Pedri taught you how to give, same as he taught you how to take.

“That’s a proper little girl right there” he grunted when he taught you how to ‘properly’ suck cock for the first time. “Just like that baby, tip that pretty little head back for Daddy” his manly hands that had gathered all your hair in a makeshift ponytail gently tugged you back to grant himself better access to your throat. “That's it,” though he was good at remaining calm and composed, you could hear the breathlessness in his voice. Your insides burnt hotter and you felt yourself clench, hollowing your cheeks as you curled your fingers around his muscular thighs while your other hand fondled his heavy ball sack. “You're a natural, aren't you, baby?” Your eyes filled with tears when you finally moved northwards and let the whole length of his cock disappear between your flushed, swollen lips.  

Your nostrils flared and your lungs churned for air, the lack of it causing your head to spin when Pedri didn't let up and instead began to give short and powerful thrusts to the fleshy channel of your slippery throat. Your head began to cloud and your thoughts started to float around just like his seed did everywhere in your oral cavity when he came. 

The internet people could say whatever they wanted. 

His beard and stubble eras were your personal favorite.

Because the coarse facial hairs felt so good against your tender skin. 

Like when Pedri once had you twisted outwards as your body writhed on the table of the storage room you had become well acquainted with at this point, legs trapped in his arms that he had looped around them to hold you firmly in place. 

The length of his devious tongue swiped across your worked up folds to lap at the mess you had made, beard digging into the soft skin of your inner thighs as the coarse hairs dragged against the junctions of your hips and legs every time his jaw flexed to eat you better. A loud moan forced its way past your reluctant lips when you felt a nerve twitch in one of your sides. 

“That's it, sweet girl. Just like that” your toes curled at the huskiness of his voice while your fingers tightened around his thick dark locks. “Let me hear those pretty moans” as if on cue, your body complied and your back arched even more when the pointy tip of his tongue prodded against your entrance. “That's it, baby. Tell me who is making you feel this good?” Your ears burnt hot as sweat trickled down one of your temples, heart heavily thumping in your chest. 

Though you were barely coherent, you knew better than to ignore his command. 

“Y- You are, Da– AH!” Your eyes widened and your palm slapped against your mouth in an attempt to stifle your delirious moans when he released one of your thighs only to intrude your tight little pussy with his fingers, the grainy muscle of his tongue toying with your clit all the while. 

“That's fucking right” he let out between slurps and sucks, occasionally making you jump and whine whenever you would get too quiet by landing a cruel spank directly onto your sensitive folds. 

Forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest. 

You had always thought it no more than a harmless little proverb. 

Until you learnt its accuracy firsthand.

When you were pressed face down against the same table that had witnessed the entire affair of your infidelity to your lover one dark evening. Your arms were spread out wide besides you as one of your cheeks rubbed against the smooth wooden surface with each powerful thrust that was pounding its way into your leaking pussy. Your lips were parted and a small puddle of drool lay next to them as you lazily whined each time a spank was delivered onto one of your ass cheeks, your body violently shaking due to the speed at which his cock was pistoning in and out of you. 

Pedri had made you feel things no one ever had, there was no doubt about that. 

But the intensity with which your orgasm ripped itself out of you and you were nearly deprived of all your senses due to the immense pleasure when the door suddenly opened and Pedri wrapped his hand around your hair to pull your head upwards to make you face the person who nonchalantly stared at you with glossy eyes had your limbs trembling in what you could only describe as the best way you had ever known. 

You lost track of time as you mindlessly let yourself get fucked while staring directly at Rodrygo who had decided to receive you himself that day only to find you bent over for Pedri in a storage room. Sensuous groans and gasps were all you could let out as the faint realization -due to your dimmed faculties- of how this looked only made you clench harder. 

The visitor eventually left you two alone all to your nefarious activities with no words exchanged and the door closer allowed you privacy again until the man in charge decided he was done with you for the day. 

When upon finally coming to your senses you began to panic, your head was patted condescendingly in that peculiar manner of his. “That's not for you to worry your pretty little head about.” And then he fixed your disheveled outfit before taking you for himself. 

.

Man, I am so out of practice. 

[teencopandthesourwolf]

"I'll text Stiles," Scott says, grabbing his backpack. "Then I'm gonna go see Allison.”

When Scott turns back around, Derek's lips are a thin line and they are the only part of him that moves when he asks, through his teeth, "Are you going to talk to her, too?”

Scott just squints. Because—huh? 

"Derek, what do you mean, am I going to talk to her, too?” He narrows his eyes even more, suspicious. “Why else would I be going to see Allison, if not to talk to her? I don't just, like, watch her from afar like some creeper, you know." 

Scott isn't about to admit that he has, embarrassingly, done just that on occasion. Alright, occasions, plural—but only once or twice! Five or six times, tops. And only ever when he thought Allison was, or could possibly be, in danger. It's not weird, though. It's not! It's noble, okay? It just sounds weird when you say it out loud. Even if he hasn't actually said it out loud. Well, at least not just now anyways; he's said it in front of the mirror a couple times and it turns out your reflection can be pretty hurtful and judgemental which, honestly, is a little upsetting.  

Just as Scott realises that Derek must know he just told a lie—half-lie!—the Alpha's face does a thing that Scott has never seen it do before. Ever. The dude looks almost… Human. 

And, what the hell? 

Derek clears his throat and shifts his weight from one foot to the other and worries at his bottom lip a bit and now Scott is feeling anxious because who is this guy? And what has he done with Derek ‘I Will Never Give A Single Thing Away About Myself Ever Other Than The Fact I Am Eternally Pissed’ Hale? (that's one of Stiles's). 

Just the possibility of Derek ‘Emotionally Open and Vulnerable’ Hale is, like—it's just way too much for Scott to handle on a Sunday morning when he's supposed to be at the veterinary surgery in less than fourteen minute's time and has to somehow manage fitting in seeing Allison on the way.

But it seems Scott is also too nosy to just move on from this and let sleeping dogs lie. And both of those things are really annoying because strange old phrases and being overly curious is usually a Stiles thing, not a Scott thing, so Scott really doesn't know what he's supposed to do! 

W.W.S.D. 

What Would Stiles Do?

"Um, Derek, have you been—"

"Firstly, McCall, following somebody around and watching them from a distance is not creepy if you think that they need to be tailed for their own safety, alright?" Derek starts and—well.

Exactly!

Scott actually genuinely likes Derek, for just a moment, because he knew he'd been right about that! He gives himself an internal high-five and an imaginary congratulatory pat on the back because being kind to yourself is never a bad option. Unfortunately, Scott now also has to admit to himself that it does, in fact, sound weird when you say it out loud. Or, well, think it out loud. Whatever, he knows what he means.

He realises that Derek is still speaking.

"...because Stiles is human and also the biggest danger-magnet in the pack, so it makes sense that one of us should be keeping tabs on him. Thirdly, I—“ 

“Someone, Derek!” Scott blurts, “I was going to ask if you've been creeping on someone!" he interrupts because—honestly, in the most way possible—what?! The hell?!

Scott is both stunned and annoyed at hearing that Derek has been following Stiles (hiding around dark corners and slinking about the place like a wolf ninja. Scott should know. Shut up.) 

Because Stiles! Is Scott's best friend! 

And, like, how long has he been doing this? And for what purpose, really? Because Derek's heart just skipped about twelve beats, never mind one, so reason number two was obviously at least a half-lie of his own. 

That's when Derek's mouth clacks audibly shut. 

Scott just stares. And he knows; there is more going on here than meets the eye.

Then it's obvious that Derek knows that Scott knows and then everybody is knowing and looking and looking and knowing and Scott just—he can't stand it, okay? He needs confirmation. He doesn't necessarily want it, but it's like his mom always says: Life's tough sometimes. 

Eventually, he manages to say, "Are you stalking Stiles, Derek?" and hopes to hell he's wrong because he now feels somewhere in between being affronted on his best friend's behalf, totally grossed-out because it's Derek, ugh, and maybe just a little bit amused. Or is it bemused? Possibly confused. Scott is definitely some of those words. 

And again, seriously, what the hell?  

Has Derek honestly been creeping on Stiles because he's concerned for Stiles's safety? And, if so, why? Like, does Derek even get concerned for humans? Or other wolves for that matter (apart from maybe his own betas which is probably only a biological thing anyway, Scott reckons). Does Derek care about anybody? At all? Dude doesn't even care about himself, Scott doesn't think.

Scott now tries his best to come up with another reason, any other possible reason, that someone might have to follow a person around, but he can't seem to land on—OH, GOD! DOES DEREK HAVE A CRUSH ON STILES? Oh, shit! Oh, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit! He can't. But he—nope. No! Because what. The actual. Hell! He just—no. No, no, no. He can't! Can he? Oh, my God, what if he does?! And if it is true... ew! Derek Hale crushing is just gross! And on Stiles?! Just, no. But also, why? And also-also, how the hell did Scott not notice something sooner?! 

And another thing: Did Scott somehow wake up this morning having somehow travelled in his sleep to one of those Affirmative Universe places that Stiles is always banging on about?

Man, Scott has, like, so many questions. 

Derek still hasn't said anything and is just standing opposite Scott with his stupid arms folded across his stupid chest with his stupid beard in his stupid loft looking really, really stupidly sheepish, and Scott thinks, yep.

Affirmative Universe. 

He doesn't know what to do and Stiles isn't here to ask, so he waves a confused (and maybe amused and bemused) arm in the air and says, “Derek, what the hell is going on? Have we travelled to an Affirmative Universe or something, because—”  

“Don't you mean Alternative Universe?”  

“—you never just, I don't know, don't throw something offensive or at least defensive back at me when I'm talking to you about Stiles. Or, you know, anybody else. Or anything else, come to think of it!”   

Derek now looks, for real, actually scared.

And Scott? Well, Scott is now officially terrified.  

His phone starts ringing and, as it's already in his hand, he just answers it without looking, eyes still fixed on Derek The Imposter. 

“Yooooo, amigo, what's the plan?” 

It's Stiles. Of course it's Stiles. 

Stiles is on the phone and Derek Hale might-probably-definitely have a crush on him, and Scott may or may not be in an Affirmative Universe but can't know for sure and can no longer speak or think or breathe.

“Uh, Scottie? Scottland? Sir Scott-A-Lot? You there, ol’buddy, ol’pal?” 

Derek can obviously hear who is on the other end of the phone. He looks positively constipated, his brows knitting together even tighter than before, tighter than ever before, and his lethal jaw is ticking away like it's being controlled by the World Clock in Berlin that Scott learned about in middle school.

Scott sighs, heavy, like he's seventy years old instead of seventeen.

Derek is now giving his best version of Scott's own speciality Puppy Dog Eyes (something Stiles and Allison always accuse him of), with a definite flavour of please, don't tell…

And Scott wants to cry. Like a baby. Like, throw himself onto the floor and scream and shout and kick his feet in the air. 

Instead, he grits his teeth together like the mature person he is, feeling very firmly smooshed between a best friend-shaped rock and a werewolf-scented hard place. 

Ugh, his life is just so unfair!

He mouths YOU OWE ME to Derek, and Derek's whole body visibly sags with relief. 

Then he takes a deep breath and answers Stiles—who is now chanting ScottieScottieScottieScottieScottieScottieScottie down the phone—with, “Dude, shut up and listen, will you! I think we might have a very real problem with Affirmative Universes!”

[spatialwave]

V's All That

Chapter 1 || The Bet

➥ Summary: Jayce Talis, the school's golden boy and a guaranteed pick for Prom King, seems to have it all—looks, charm, and popularity. However, when Kino presents him with the opportunity to win back Mel, his ex-girlfriend and the one who got away, Jayce jumps at the chance. The challenge? To transform Viktor, a snarky outcast who is as far from popular as possible, into Prom King instead. Jayce takes the bait, but he may have taken on more than he can handle. ➥ Word Count: 2.6k ➥ Pairing: Jayce Talis x Viktor || Arcane

🧡 beta'd by @spxllcxstxr 🩷 art by @wapimostosis 🧡 available on ao3

part 2. ->

The sun was high on Monday afternoon, illuminating everyone in the courtyard in bright light that warmed the skin. Spring Break was now a memory of the past, and the only thought looming above everyone’s heads were prom and graduation—the final milestones of a senior’s life.

Especially sought after by the popular kids. Their final night of royalty before they were shot into adulthood.

For Jayce Talis, this was everything. 

Football quarterback, soccer captain, class president and the obvious vote for Prom King.

It wasn’t easy being as popular as Jayce Talis. One had to be confident, charismatic, and, obviously, attractive. He basked in the glow of his rank atop the social ladder, eyes closed as he laid back atop one of the picnic tables in the courtyard that had been swallowed up by the sun. His arms rested behind his head, and his varsity jacket was discarded to the side, so he was clad in only a sleeveless tee and jeans.

A quick tan as the final minutes of school wrapped up, lucky enough to have a free final period. Why he didn’t leave? Who would want to leave school when everyone loved you?

Jayce’s close friend, Kino, sat next to him and toyed with a football in his hands. His eyes flickered around as students sat amongst each other and chatted, giggles and chatter filling his mind. The attention of all nearby girls settled on Jayce, who ensured his skin was perfectly sun-kissed.

A snort bubbled up from Kino’s chest, tucking the leather ball into his elbow, “You know, it’s kind of cute how everyone thinks you’re a lock for Prom King,” he murmured, noticing the way two freshman girls walked by and giggled as Jayce sat up, arms stretched above his head. Muscles perfectly contoured as he flexed.

“I am a lock for Prom King,” Jayce retorted, pushing the sunglasses he’d been wearing to the top of his head. His golden hazel eyes settled on his friend. “It’s not even a challenge.”

There was only truth in that statement: once nominated, no one could take the highly-sought crown from him. It was the status quo – how things were supposed to go. Popular boys won Prom King. And Jayce? 

He was the popular boy.

Kino gave a dry chuckle, the smirk on his lips only growing, “You think it’s just your charm, huh? All you?”

Jayce’s eyes narrowed slightly, his curiosity piquing. “Well, yeah,” he scoffed, his nose crinkling as he waited for his friend to delve further into his ramblings.

“It goes beyond just you, man; I don’t know,” Kino dragged on, licking over his teeth as an idea sprung in his head. One with malicious intent, “You think you have everyone at this school wrapped around your finger… like they’d vote for whoever you told them to vote for.”

“What’s your point?” The question lingered, confusion settling in Jayce’s head.

“Prove it.”

Jayce was stunned momentarily, “Prove what?”

Kino grinned toothily, “You really think you’re all that? I bet you can’t make someone else Prom King–someone completely off the radar. I’m talking a real outcast.”

Jayce chuckled, pushing his sunglasses back onto his nose and leaning back on his hands, “Is that supposed to be some kind of challenge? Man, I already am the winner. Why would I care about helping some random person take the title from me? You’re insane.”

Kino shrugged, hands twisting the ball within his hands again, eyes focused on it, “Because, let’s be honest here, Jayce… there’s a part of you that’s too comfortable with this, and what’s the fun of that?”

“You’re delusional.”

“You don’t think you could do it?”

“I could,” Jayce bit back at him, his pride on the line, “I just don’t see the point. What do I get out of this?”

“I’ll talk with Mel,” Kino added smoothly, uncaring to even look at his friend.

Jayce’s heart dropped and twisted in his chest like a sharp knife. Mel Medarda, Kino’s younger sister, but more importantly – the girl of his dreams. The one who broke up with him just before spring break after a year of going steady. He hadn’t expected to hear her name in the conversation, but he’d be damned if it didn’t make him curious and eager.

Kino knew this game was dangerous for Jayce, so he went for it. How could life be exciting if there wasn’t a sprinkling of drama?

“You’re bluffing,” Jayce turned himself away, slipping his jacket back on, “there’s no way she’d give me–”

“Dude. I can make it happen… if you think you can.”

Jayce hesitated, the cards dealt to him making his stomach twist uncomfortably. A second chance with Mel was like a lifeline, a reason to keep going. God, he missed her.

But making some outcast Prom King? Maybe it wasn’t a good idea–like trying to force a square peg into a round hole. 

Still, Jayce wasn’t one to back out from a challenge. Not when the deal was so goddamn sweet.

“Fine,” he tilted his head back, inhaling a sharp breath, “easy enough.”

“My man,” Kino grinned, extending a large hand to give his friend a few pats on the back. “I knew you still had some left in you.”

Jayce rolled his eyes, discarding his sunglasses into the backpack he strung over his right shoulder and pushing himself off the table. “What happens if I lose? That’s a big ‘if,’ by the way.”

“I’ll figure something out. It won’t be good,” he chuckled low, his eyes flickering around the schoolyard with mischief flickering through his dark orbs. “I think it’s time we go shopping.”

Jayce’s stomach twisted as they wandered around the courtyard and the exterior school halls. The chiming of the final bell coincided with a rush of students swarming around, excited to get home after the first day back from spring break. His fingers gripped onto the strap of his bag, his hazel eyes flickering around.

“Man,” Kino whistled, spinning on his heels as a young freshman with taped glasses walked past him, “Too bad we said prom king. These geeks in their freshman year are too goddamn good… impossible to fix.”

“Nah, man,” Jayce rolled his eyes, “You get that kid in the right clothes and take off those glasses, and it’s a done deal. " His eyes followed the young boy.

“You’re too confident,” he replied, nudging Jayce’s side with a sharp elbow, “It’s more than just looks for the dudes, my man. With chicks, it’s easy to get them in a good push-up bra, makeup and slutty clothes—“

“Oh, really now?” Jayce chided.

“Yes, really,” Kino stopped his footing, holding a finger out as he pointed to a guy just down the hall. Nerdy with textbooks clutched against his chest, “See?”

As if on cue, the boy was shoved by one of their peers on the football team. The guys laughed when he fell, and his textbooks flew across the pavement of the exterior halls—a quiet, pathetic groan coming from him.

Jayce’s jaw tightened as he watched the boy scramble to gather his fallen textbooks, the football players laughing as they walked away. It was a familiar scene—one Jayce had witnessed a hundred times but never intervened in. 

“You can’t fix awkward with a change of clothes,” Kino said, gesturing to the poor guy still fumbling on the ground.

Jayce sighed, running a hand through his hair. Kino was probably right, but the bet began to feel like a mistake. The nerves were beginning to rise in the back of his throat like bile, twisting his stomach uncomfortably.

“You’re not getting off easy on this one,” Kino hummed, eyes darting around, “if you want to prove you can turn anyone into prom king, you’ve got to start at the absolute bottom. And there—” he jabbed a finger toward a figure across the courtyard—“is your guy.”

Jayce followed Kino’s gaze, and his stomach sank when he saw who he was pointing at. A slender guy walking slowly along the edge of the lawn, his head slightly bowed and wearing cheaply made headphones that wrapped around the back of his head. He leaned heavily on a cane with every step, his uneven gait making him stand out. His messy brown hair hung over his forehead, and he wore an old Deftones shirt that looked like it had been well-worn.

“Viktor,” Kino announced wickedly. “He’s perfect.”

Jayce groaned, shaking his head at the mere prospect of Viktor. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Chances of winning were looking slimmer with each passing second.

“Nope.” Kino crossed his arms, his grin widening. “Think about it. Total loner. Walks like he’s 80. Probably spends his weekends building robots in his basement or something. There’s no way anyone’s going to vote for him, no matter what you do.”

Jayce kept watching Viktor, who had stopped to adjust the strap of his book bag. The guy wasn’t exactly ugly—his features were sharp, but in a way that made him seem more intimidating than approachable. There was something about the dark circles under his eyes and the perpetual scowl on his face that screamed, ‘Don’t talk to me.’

“C’mon, Jayce,” Kino pressed, “you said you could do it, right? Doesn’t matter who it is. Unless you’re backing out already…”

Jayce bit his cheek, fighting the urge to snap back. Kino was doing this on purpose; he knew that. Picking someone like Viktor wasn’t just about making the challenge harder—it was about watching him squirm.

“Fine,” Jayce said finally, his voice low. “I’ll do it. But don’t think for a second that I’m going to lose.”

Kino’s grin turned predatory. “Good. Go on, man. Let’s see what you can do.”

Jayce’s eyes widened, landing on his friend as panic settled in his gut. “Now?”

Kino answered with a rough shove against his shoulder, enough force to cause him to stumble forward several steps. Jayce caught himself easily, his hazel eyes staring ahead as he kept walking smoothly toward Viktor, who was still struggling with the strap that dared to unravel from its clip.

“You got this,” he murmured encouragingly, chest puffing out as a smile graced his lips. 

Jayce stopped shy of two steps away from Viktor, hand tight over the strap of his bag and squeezing the fabric. He didn’t say anything at first, just stared down as the student sighed in relief, nimble hands clasping the strap snugly.

“Hi, Viktor,” he blurted out calmly, breaking the ice between them. His palms were sweaty as his hand nearly slipped down the strap over his shoulder and needed to readjust. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

There was no response for a few beats, leaving Jayce standing still and staring—wondering whether he should tap on his shoulder or step before him.

Then, a pair of amber eyes flashed up, meeting Jayce’s. There was a deafening silence between the two, quiet enough that all Jayce could hear was the blood rushing through his ears. His heart rate skyrocketed. 

He couldn't remember the last time he felt this nervous.

Viktor, however, broke eye contact first, eyes dashing around their immediate surroundings as they stood off to the side of the courtyard. Of course, the entire student body seemed to think the same thing as they stared at them—they were horribly nosy.

It was a chorus of the same thought: ‘What the hell does Jayce Talis want with… him?’

Viktor shifted his weight onto his cane, lifting a slender hand to tug down the flimsy headphones that had been perched on his head, letting them settle around his pale neck. His tired eyes settled back on the football quarterback, annoyance flickering through him.

“Can I help you?” He asked, voice edged with impatience.

Jayce perked up, caught off guard by the thick accent that rolled from Viktor’s lips. He’d never paid enough attention to him to notice.

He parted his lips to speak, moving them through a bit of silent stuttering until he caught his words, “Yeah, uh—” he glanced over his shoulder to spot Kino, who was whistling to himself and pretending to keep his attention elsewhere. He could see the corners of his lips curling up into a shit-eating smirk he was fighting off.

What a tool.

Turning back to meet Viktor’s sharp gaze, he quickly recovered and flashed a charismatic smile, in typical Jayce fashion, “You’re good with chemistry, right?”

“Depends,” Viktor answered sharply, words cutting through the air between them. He bit his cheek to keep himself from saying anything more, suppressing the urge to let sarcasm take the forefront of the conversation. He didn’t have time for whatever this was. Some sort of sick joke—at his expense, no less.

“Oh, well,“ Jayce chuckled lightly, treading the growing tension carefully, “you seem like the kind of guy who is good with it. I’ve never seen you struggle in class.”

Viktor’s brows furrowed together in confusion. What did Jayce Talis know about him? He didn’t pay attention to him, right?

“I’m surprised you know that I’m in your class.” His tone was harsh, coated in disdain.

An awkward chuckle bubbled up from Jayce’s throat, shifting uncomfortably on his feet as he looked between those golden eyes that pierced through him like daggers. He inhaled a sharp breath, maintaining his calm facade, different from the storm in his mind.

“I was wondering if you could help me out,” Jayce continued, eyes momentarily dropping to the faded graphic on Viktor’s shirt that had seen better days, “I’ve been struggling wi—“

“No.”

Jayce Talis was stunned into silence, blinking in disbelief as Viktor tore himself away from the conversation and began to walk away. The end of his well-worn cane tapped rhythmically along the pavement, limp evident in his walk as he attempted to hurry off. Though, he didn’t quite have the luxury of escaping when Jayce caught up with a few steps.

“No?” Jayce said incredulously, letting out a breathless chuckle as if half-expecting Viktor to twist back around and laugh with him. Tell him that it was just a poor attempt at a joke and that he’d help him. 

After all, who wouldn’t want to help Jayce?

“I said no,” Viktor frowned, straightening up when Jayce stepped directly into his path, forcing him to pause his grand escape, “I’m certain you have others who would be of better assistance.”

“But I’d really appreciate your help.”

“I don’t want to help you.”

With that, Jayce was met with a hard shove against his shoulder as Viktor strode past him. It was hardly hard enough to make him lose his footing but enough impact to strengthen his firm answer.

There was no way in hell Viktor would help Jayce with chemistry. 

Spinning on his feet, Jayce watched as Viktor continued, meeting paths with a familiar-looking girl. She wore rounded glasses that accentuated her features and had curled hair pulled back tightly—brown eyes flickered in his direction before her attention turned to her friend as they approached the student parking lot.

Jayce couldn’t remember her name, but that was the least of his concerns. Not when he stood in the dust, watching as the man he’d been challenged to help brushed him off like he was nothing. Having never felt so insignificant.

“Christ,” Jayce groaned, looking back at Kino and taking note of the gallery of students who pretended they hadn’t been watching the exchange. The courtyard buzzed back to life, eyes tugging away from him.

“Holy shit,” Kino barked out a laugh, hurrying to Jayce’s side as he watched their victim turn a corner and leave their line of sight. A heavy hand patted his back several times, earning a few low grunts, “What did you say about not losing? Looking rough for you out here, King Talis.”

“Screw you,” Jayce grumbled, smacking Kino’s hand away from him in frustration, “This doesn’t mean I lose. I’ll figure it out.”

Kino shook his head, laughter rumbling from his chest, “You poor fucking soul.”

A/N: Thank you so much for reading my first multi-chapter JayVik series! Writing this has been a blast, and I'm excited to get more chapters out, and will update each post with links to easily jump between each part! A huge thank you to Jaclyn, who has graciously offered her time to beta this fic for me, and to Wapi, whose art has transformed this fic into something truly beautiful.🧡

[oppysbabydoll]

Heck yeah Ratchet fics

May I ask for a soulmate au fic about Ratchet from Prime and a human?

-🌱

of course! i know im a bit late on this request, so both of our sakes i am making these headcanons BUT!! if you want me to write a short drabble regarding my headcanons, feel free to send another request :)

ratchet (tfp) x reader soulmate au (sfw)

the most common soulmate au is where the first word your soulmate says to you becomes permanently etched to your hand. since bots don’t have flesh to necessarily have writing on them… imo, that version of soulmate au doesn’t fit. instead, i’ll be taking the countdown till you meet your soulmate

it seemed since the allspark gave birth to cybertron, bots always had soulmates. a timer is attached to every bot, symbolizing the amount of time left before they meet the one. myths surround soulmates, with the most famous soulmate tales becoming conjunx endura: forever partnered. ratchet too, has this clock. unlike popular culture, he doesn’t really believe in the one. that whoever he’s supposed to be is who he’ll be with. that they’ll become conjunx endura (married). especially since he’s had it… for millennia

everyone always jokes his timer was good luck, or a sign of age, because of how long he’d have to wait for his One. but honestly? he’s relieved. he isn’t being distracted by anyone else to do his job: heal people. his job gives him purpose, above all. to lose that to a person, a distraction, would be detrimental. he doesn’t believe in the fundamentalist crap of your alt mode defining your function but he’d be damned if anything stopped him from performing his duty

as the war starts, the dreaded date slowly feels closer and closer. 4 millennia is a lot. but as eons go back, so does the time. the timer slips to 3, than 2… when it becomes less than 1, he starts to fear soulmates. doing everything in his power to avoid it—ceasing soulmate talks, covering his timer, even refusing to be in the same room as conjunx endura when they’re being too affectionate for his taste. like he said, he doesn’t need any distractions. not where there’s so many bots to heal

when they arrived on earth, ratchet’s fear became all time high. he’s not stupid, after all. the more time they spent on this planet, with no means of escaping, the more he worries about the possibility: his soulmate is human. with his particular distaste for organics and their “inferior” culture, a human being his soulmate felt impossible. adding on the fact that humans… didn’t have soulmates. they had the conceptual idea but actual tangible soulmates? counting you down to your destined day? nada. zilch

it’s why when the day actually came, he was determined to ignore you. primus themself can try, but he won’t be bound by destiny. yet despite his best attempts, avoiding you when your job is a diplomat… is nigh impossible. he couldn’t get rid of you no matter what

you remain unaware of his inner conundrum. despite his obvious contempt of the situation, you stick to professionalism. but when you aren’t looking, he finds himself getting lost in your gaze. optics transfixed on the concentrated expression on your face. and maybe… just maybe… in the crevices of his processor, he thinks of them together

[mcflymemes]

AS SAID BY DORIAN PAVUS  *  assorted dialogue from dragon age inquisition, updated version

i don't care what they think about me. i care what they think about us.

i like you. more than i should. more than might be wise.

discretion isn't your thing, is it?

all this dancing, politics, and murder makes me a bit homesick.

i suppose it really depends. how bad do you want to be?

living a lie... it festers inside of you, like poison.

i'm a man of many talents. what can i say?

the moment i saw you, i thought "there's a man who knows quality."

if you don't come through this, i swear i'll kill you.

i'm curious where this goes, you and i. we've had fun. perfectly reasonable to leave it here.

here is my proposal: we dispense with the chitchat and move on to something more primal.

i tease you too much, i know.

i'll have to find something we can do that doesn't involve teasing.

time to drink myself into a stupor. it's been that sort of day.

i see you enjoy playing with fire.

i like playing hard to get.

i'm not suggesting we venture into mutual domesticity.

if it's a trap, we escape and kill everyone. you're good at that.

talk to me. let me hear how mystified you are by my anger.

oh, i'm not arguing. just pointing out the ridiculously obvious.

if you choose to leave your door unlocked like a savage, i may or may not come.

now... what was i talking about? ah, yes. me.

i am apparently an incredible ass at accepting gifts.

i prefer the company of men.

would you prefer me bound and leashed?

sometimes the ones you love are also the ones who disappoint you the most.

you are the man i love, [name]. nothing will truly keep us apart.

the things you ask are just... very personal.

sometimes... love isn't enough.

there will always be an "us." we'll just be... farther apart, for a time.

i had no idea something like you was possible.

i'm imagining what you would look like in a dress.

i've never seen you smile so much!

i have no idea what you're talking about.

you stand there, flexing your muscles, huffing like some beast of burden with no thought save conquest.

you're shaping the world for good or ill. how could i aspire to do any less?

my footsies are freezing, thank you.

don't you ever bathe?

you're not suggesting we're similar.

watch where you're pointing that thing!

i'm not wearing a skirt.

it's significantly more impressive than hitting them with a sharp piece of metal.

i only meant to say i'm very sorry for your loss.

we can continue this dance forever, if you wish.

i'm saying we should be careful what we assume when it comes to such matters.

demons don't appreciate a man with good hair.

what i wouldn't give for some proper wine.

your outfit's entertaining. i'll give you that.

he had to leave early on account of assassination.

it's nice to know you have friends.

i'm here to do what is right.

come on, just answer the question.

they were asking me about you. personal things.

you said we'd be ass-deep in trouble. this is more like knee-high.

so what's your estimation? think we can win?

you can't call me pampered. nobody's peeled a grape for me in weeks.

you startled me. you're always so... nondescript.

you're a special and unique snowflake. live the dream.

i wanted to see you make flowers bloom with your song. just once.

you've done a lot less dancing naked in the moonlight than expected.

i've never seen anyone in this part of the world do it.

i realize there's more to you than that.

have i offended you?

for hating the outdoors, you sure seem to like bad weather.

i can't figure you out, [name].

you don't play their stupid game, they send an assassin or three your way.

i can't believe you're scared of magic.

i'm going to take that as a compliment.

still don't like me, [name]? after all this time?

[name], i owe you an apology.

i suspect people will use any excuse to hate us.

why be ashamed? power should be respected, not swept under the carpet.

maybe you're not a complete moron.

i just need to know you're capable of higher thought. for my own comfort.

it would take work. and soap. lots and lots of soap.

[maineventbts]

The Boy Is Mine

pairing: jey uso x oc

word count: 2.1k

warnings: cursing , some innuendoes at the end , that’s pretty much it.

note: i haven’t written anything in a while , im just testing the waters. pls be kind <3

It was Monday, meaning you were walking into the arena for tonight's show. Typically, you enjoyed coming to work; you had the best job in the world. However, this was the last place you wanted to be today. Your silver suitcase was rolling behind you as your best friend power walked to keep up with your quick strides. Your goal was to reach your destination as quickly as possible, avoiding as much contact as you could. You greeted some staff and fellow coworkers before rushing into the female locker room. Holding the door open for your friend, as she gives you a side eye on her way into the room. "What is wrong with you? You need to slow the fuck down," Nia said with her hands on her hips, trying to catch her breath.

You refused to tell her the reason for your speed walking into the arena. In your mind, the reasoning made you sound like a high schooler, and you were grown as hell. You and your longtime friend, who happens to be Nia's cousin, were going through a rough patch. You and Josh were not just typical friends; you were practically in love with each other. You couldn't get enough of each other from the day you first met. Sitting together in catering, riding to shows together, even having him hold your purse sometimes. You two even shared many steamy moments in private. No one ever questioned your closeness until a new person was added to the mix. Newer talent, Nikita, the Bane of your existence. Because you and Josh were not an official item, he was fair game for anyone. However, you were ready to go to bat for that man, like he put a ring on your finger.

"Hello? Girl, you almost killed me; this better not be about Josh again." Nia shakes your shoulders, pulling you from your daze. You playfully smack her hands off of your body, "my bad, I'm just a little tired today." Not believing your excuse, Nia opens her mouth, preparing to remind you of your busy day. "And I know we have a tag match tonight, I'll be focused," you beat her to the punch.

After setting up your space in the locker room, you and some of the other women head to catering. You've only had a matcha latte today, and if you didn't eat anything soon, your body would give up. Thankfully, there is always a diverse spread of delicious food, so you never have to worry about going hungry. You grab a Gatorade and pack your plate with three tacos and rice. As soon as you sit down with Nia and Naomi, you notice Naomi's continuous glances at you. "Yes, Naomi," you say, already knowing what was about to come next.

"Why are you ignoring that man," referring to her brother-in-law, Josh. Unsurprisingly, he told his twin brother Jon, who definitely told Trinity. You poke at the food on your plate before looking up at the girls, "I'm not ignoring hi-," Trinity put her hand up, not wanting to hear whatever bullshit you were about to spew. "I literally watch you speed walk past him at every show. And he won't stop calling me and Jon to see what's wrong with you." It was obvious that Trinity wanted to help you both, but you wanted to avoid being lectured by your friends. "He out here entertaining other bitches, what am I supposed to do," your words came out in a whisper in an attempt to keep your fellow workers out of your business.

You’ve been talking about Josh too much because he comes around the corner like Beetlejuice. In an instant, your head is down, and you begin eating your food, praying that he'll ignore you. His eyes are on you instantly, but to your surprise, he doesn't approach you. Instead, he sits down with Xavier and Kofi, at the table beside you. Your back was toward him, but Nia's constant looks in his direction weren't helping your paranoia. "Stop looking over there," you mouth to her, causing her to look down at her plate.

Just as you thought things couldn't get any worse, Bane arrives here to ruin your day. "What up Nikita," you hear Xavier greet the girl, who takes a seat at their table. Your jaw tightens, and your grip on your fork is deadly. Her presence makes you want to flip every table in the room and slap the taste out of her mouth. "I'm liking the little blue in the back, Josh; did you just dye it?" just the sound of her voice raises your body temperature. Smoke is practically barreling out of your ears as you try to remain calm. His hair color is none of her business, and why didn't he tell you about it? Your mind is racing so fast that you don't notice Trinity and Nia's concerned facial expressions. If you didn't leave this table now, Nikita would be laid out on it. Gathering your trash and personal items, you get up from the table and get away from catering as quick as possible. Little did you know, Joshua was staring at you the entire time with puppy dog eyes, praying that you'd look his way.

Back in the locker room, you begin to prep for your match. Earbuds snug in your ears as you riffle through your suitcase, trying to find the best gear to wear. After a swift search, you pull out one of your strategically distressed t-shirts, trunks, and kickpads. You change in one of the stalls and throw on your black boots. "You want to look like me so bad," Nia lets out a laugh as you both come out of the stalls wearing the same colors. The show had already started, and it was time for you two to get in the makeup chair.

"Do you want to go with a neutral type of look tonight," Melinda, one of the makeup artist, always asked what you wanted before she worked her magic. You went with the neutrals, and so did Nia. You and the girls are enjoying small talk as she puts the finishing touches on your face. "Y/N," your body instantly tensed up, and you refused to look away from the girl in front of you. Nia instantly looked away and continued to chat with the other girls. "Girl, i know you did not," you mutter, shocked that she'd leave you to deal with this alone.

"Yes, Josh," you fight the urge to face him, trying to stay strong. If you looked that man in the eyes, you just might let everything go and fold. "Can we go somewhere and talk," he moves to stand before you, not allowing you to avoid him any longer. "I'm getting my makeup done," you quickly respond, hoping to excuse yourself from the situation. "Actually, you're all done now," Melinda pats your shoulder as she ushers you to get out of the chair. Your eyes widen as you've just been thrown to a wolf by your favorite makeup artist. You thank the woman, realizing that you can't hide anymore. "Come on," you tilt your head towards the far end of the hall, which happens to be empty.

"Why you ignoring me," Joshua jumps straight to the point, looking down on you. His body looks tense as he folds his hands in front of him. It was beyond evident that he was just as nervous as you were, if not more. "We been friends for years, you know you my girl," you could hear the hurt in his voice, and it completely shattered your heart. The last thing you wanted to do was hurt Josh, but you were hurting too. "If I'm your girl, why are you flirting with other bitches? It's supposed to be me and you, Joshua; this is not a group thing." You could hardly hold eye contact with him anymore; his eyes looked angry and apologetic, while you looked like you were about to burst into tears.

He cupped your jaw, forcing you to look at him. "Ain't nobody flirting with nobody. She just follows me and the guys around sometimes, you need to stop trippin-"you smack his hand away from your face. How dare he accuse you of being dramatic. "I need to stop trippin? You won't even let Dolph sit next to me anymore. Anybody gets friendly with me, and you get upset, but I can't be mad at you for getting fresh with someone that ain't me," no longer were you scared to look at him; you were practically fuming. Head cocked to the side with your arms crossed over your chest, "you're so fucking backwards, Josh. If you wanna flirt with other people, if you want to fuck with other people, go ahead!" The two of you sat in silence for a moment, unsure of what even happened. He clenched his jaw, as you tried your best to hold back the flood that was ready to fall from your eyes.

"Fuck you, Josh. I'm so fucking done with you," you turn away from him, not wanting to waste any more of your time on someone who wasn't truly committed to you. Head hanging low as you speed past everyone in the hall. Joshua watches you walk away from him, knowing that you need some time to cool off. Though you might not understand now, he loves you more than anything else in this world, and he wouldn't let you walk out of his life that easily.

The rest of your evening was bearable. You won your tag match with Nia but had to go up against the one person you wanted to strangle. Luckily for you, Josh was nowhere to be found; now it was time to get the hell out of there before he magically appeared again. You and Nia were outside, waiting for Saraya to bring the car around. Sitting on your suitcase with your earbuds in, this was the most peace you had gotten all day.

As Saraya pulls up in front of you, a hand drapes over your shoulder. You recognized that soft yet heavy hand anywhere. "What do you want Josh," your words come out very monotonous as you pull the earbuds from your ears. "You riding with me tonight," his words sounding more like a statement than a question. You shrug his hand off of your shoulder before rising from your seat. "No, I'm going with the girls to-” before you could finish your sentence, Joshua is holding your suitcase along with his, "you gon' stop running from me. You know just how much I love you, even though we haven't made anything official, I've made it more than clear that you my number one." Before you can get a word out, he continues, "I shouldn't have let her get that close to me; that's my fault entirely. But never once did I feed into her advances or little flirtatious behavior. I'm not checking for anybody that's not you, ma," with every word he says, you feel your face get hotter. You weren't sure what you were expecting, but you didn’t think that he’d profess his love for you outside the arena.

"I know we ain't made nothing official or anything, but I wanna change that. I don't want no one thinking they got a chance with you, and I know you don't want that either." Joshua advances towards you, letting go of the suitcase handles. Hands slowly wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer to his body, "be my girl, officially." You couldn’t resist it anymore, the last thing you wanted was to keep fighting with Josh. Your hand comes up to the back of his head, strands of his blue hair through your fingers, "I'd like that very much," your words come out softly as you feel your face burning. His eyes were scanning all over your body like this was the first time he’s ever seen you. You couldn’t lie, you did get some new braids in and did your makeup a bit different lately, hoping he would notice. He wasn’t the only one staring, you found yourself drooling over his tattooed arms and the shine from his grill. It’s been a minute since y’all got together and you needed him now.

"Kiss her! Be a man," you hear Saraya and Nia yelling from the car, you completely forgot that they were waiting on you. Leaning down, Joshua carefully places his lips against yours. Wasting no time, you parted your lips, allowing his tongue to slip into your mouth. Your nails are softly combing through his hair as his hands start to roam your body. You hear squeals in the background before slowly pulling away from his lips. Gloss slightly smudged on your face and on his lips. Your mouth curves into a smile before you turn your attention to your friends. "I'll see y'all in the next town," you raise your middle finger at the pair before gathering your items to leave with your new man.

"You gon' apologize for ignoring me all this time," he looks over at you, licking his lips as you help him load up the rental. Already knowing what kind of apology he wanted, you shake your head, "nah, I've been under so much emotional stress lately. I think you owe me an apology, maybe even two," you giggle as he closes the trunk. "I’ma give you whatever you want baby," he says, hand smacking your ass before you walk over to the passenger door.

[scientificwitchry]

My Thoughts on Caleb's Biblical Symbolism

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This is going to be long-winded and essentially a rant (so don't expect me to make sense). Also probably not accurate as these are simply MY thoughts based on the little info we know from the events of the game along with Caleb's trailer(s) and the teasers/showcases of his cards posted. As well as his commissioned art. Also, spoilers if you haven't read Chapter 4 of the game yet.

______________________________________________________________

I've seen many people talk about things such as the cultural significance of Caleb's dynamic with MC and trope and character but I haven't seen a lot about his biblical symbolism.

Of course, as anyone who cares can tell, Caleb is an obvious reference to the story of Adam and Eve.

In the story of Adam and Eve, the first humans created by God lived in the Garden of Eden, basically a utopia absence of violence, and most importantly for this analysis; sin. They are allowed to eat from any fruits in the garden save for those from the Tree of Knowledge. Despite knowing this, Eve, having been tempted by the serpent does so after being implored to do so to attain the knowledge of both good and evil. Not only does she eat from the tree she gets her lover, Adam to do so as well.

As a result, Eve is punished to experience the pains of childbirth and to desire her husband but be ruled over by him and Adam to be cursed with the death of labor before both are promptly cast out of the Garden of Eden.

This probably isn't the exact story, but it's the story I grew up knowing of.

One thing I can't help but notice is that in Caleb's first official commission art (art that devs commission from artists) is that in the art Caleb is holding out an apple presumably for the MC to eat as a snake is coiled around his hand while both of them are surrounded by greenery.

Though, the story of Adam and Eve actually never describes the fruits as being an apple, It doesn't describe it all in fact. For all we know it could've been a durian. But the common assumption is that the fruit Eve ate was an apple. That paired with the setting, the snake, MC leaning in as if to take a bite makes it pretty obvious that he's supposed to reference the story of Adam and Eve paired with the apple we see on his dog tag, even his profile picture, then in his trailers and even in the teaser for Farspace Deprivation they mention sin which I'll come back to later.

The first thought I had was that Caleb was the serpent which tempted Eve (us/mc). And it would fit him well considering that in both his trailer and the teasers for his card he feels so manipulative? This is especially the case with his Farspace Bloomfall.

Like there is no way you can look at this and not think he's manipulating the fuck out of us. But even with that, I believe that rather than him representing the serpent which deceives Eve (mc), I am of the opinion he represents Eve who eats from the tree of knowledge.

A part of it also has to do with his second and most recent commission art.

One thing I noticed about this piece was that he and MC seem to be in the sky, supposedly falling. It could (and probably is) a reach but it reminds me of when Adam and Eve are cast out from the Garden of Eden by God. Considering how this is a lot more grim (?) compared to the first commissioned art, the same way Caleb's official appearance as a love interest is a lot darker than his first appearance as a character.

To me, even though there's a high possibility that it is, I don't consider the tone shift in his commissioned art a coincidence at all. This and his re-appearance as a love interest show Adam and Eve were cast out of the Garden of Eden. Caleb and the MCs life together before the explosion was their eden. an idyllic utopia absent of sin. Whatever it was that led up to that explosion was Caleb eating from the Tree of Knowledge. The serpent in the bible convinces Eve that eating from the Tree of Knowledge would give her knowledge of both good and evil, making her like God. I believe whatever knowledge Caleb now knows is the evil that has completely traumatized him.

Another reason why I believe that Caleb represents Eve requires us to go back to his card; Farspace Deprivation.

MC calls him a sinner and not only does he admit to being a sinner (carrying sin) but asks us to carry it as well. Eve is often interpreted as having beguiled Adam into sinning with her (eating from the Tree of Knowledge). However, there is no mention (to my memory) of it in the bible. But when God confronts Adam he blames Eve and Eve then blames the serpent which is probably where the interpretation comes from.

And while it may seem like a stretch, I wholeheartedly believe that the last sentence is his way of beguiling us. I don't think it's in the sense he's completely faking referenced loneliness. It is my belief that all the emotions we see Caleb express are real but he recognizes the fact that we are weak to them and leans into that to appeal to us and by god does it work.

But putting this aside, my main point in going back to analyze the lines in Farspace Deprivation is that I not only believe that this exchange cements the idea that Caleb is meant to represent Eve and us Adam but like in the story the two of us carry a shared sin and like Adam and Eve we will also carry a punishment (not like the ones in the bible obviously). Or maybe we already have and MC has just been yet to realize. Maybe we had already bitten into the fruit of knowledge without having even realized it and are being punished for it.

Additionally, I'd like to add that Adam and Eve sinning is also what granted (imo at least) humans free will. The same way in which Caleb doing so (according to my longwinded and olympian levels of stretching theory) granted him freedom. in the "Homecoming Wings" video he says he held himself back and endured day after day, then describes it as being suffocating. To me, this is referencing his feelings for us. He held himself back from exposing his true feelings to us to maintain our Garden of Eden, but by abandoning that world he's freed himself from playing the role of our gege.

Now it's a matter of whether the freedom of sinning outweighs the punishment that follows. What if Eve never gave into the serpent? What if she and Adam continued to live idyllicly in that utopia? What if that explosion never happened? What if Caleb continued to be by our side, in our memories as our gege and not Caleb? What if humans never experienced suffering, pain, grief, and death? We will never know for humans will never be sinless and Caleb and MC will never know for they are forever sinners.

Art's Source: https://x.com/chimmyming

[creepercraftguy]

NAEGIRI WEEK 2024: Day 1 - DISCOVERY

Makoto Naegi is the unlikely headmaster of a rebuilt Hope's Peak Academy, navigating its haunting past and uncovering hidden secrets alongside Kyoko Kirigiri, who confronts the emotional and physical scars left by their shared tragedies.

@naegiriweek

Full Story below the cut. You can also find the story on my WattPad and AO3.

In case it wasn't already obvious, Makoto Naegi was not your typical high school headmaster.

Several months after the Final Killing Game, Makoto and the Future Foundation decided to rebuild Hope's Peak Academy, with him becoming the principal and working alongside Kyoko. This was a decision that many had found...questionable...Especially considering almost every bad thing that had happened to Makoto, and by extension, the entire world, all originated from this prestigious, but ultimate twisted academy.

Any other person would have been more than happy to scrap the building, abolish the Ultimate system entirely, and maybe even build an entirely new academy to teach the next generation of youths, but Makoto's idea of Hope was much stronger than the average person. The symbolism of turning a school that had fallen into despair, and transforming it into a beacon of Hope once again was just too powerful to pass up, and thus the Future Foundation agreed to give Makoto this one opportunity.

But there were more reasons than just that. Hope's Peak still hid many secrets within its walls. Secrets that could potentially be exploited for evil. Makoto knew that if anyone was going to find these secrets, he was the best person for the job. And who better to help him uncover these secrets than Kyoko, who was well acquainted with the school herself?

With that being said, progress on the investigation was slow, and Makoto mostly handled it himself due to Kyoko's condition. She had almost died due to the NG poisoning during the killing game, but miraculously, she left the building alive, having been recovered by Mikan from a near-death state. However, the poisoning had still destroyed a large portion of her body inside, leaving her arms and hands horribly scarred. The doctors were able to fix the damage, but unfortunately, the burns were so severe that Kyoko had lost nearly all vision in her left eye, and needed a walking stick to help move around.

Makoto knew she would never be able to live a normal life, but he was glad she was able to survive. Even though it had been a month since the incident, she was still getting used to her new disabilities. Makoto offered to have the Future Foundation provide her with the best possible prosthetic arms and legs, but Kyoko refused, saying she wanted to overcome her struggles using her own strength.

Unsurprisingly.

Still, today was a bit different, as out of the blue, Makoto had asked Kyoko to come and visit him at the school. He hadn't been clear on the reasons why, just that it was important and involved her. Kyoko had agreed, and now the two were standing in the middle of the classroom together, looking around as Makoto spoke.

"So you're probably wondering why I asked you to come here?" he said.

His voice was almost teasing, as if he was enjoying being the one in the know while Kyoko didn't; a rare switch in their usual standing that he was very happy to take advantage of.

"You wanted to show me something," Kyoko answered, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the room, "That's the only reason I can think of for why you would invite me here."

"Correct," Makoto nodded, "so...you know how we've been looking around the school, and we keep finding these hidden rooms that each serve a different kind of purpose?"

"Yes," Kyoko nodded, "are you saying you found another one?"

"I am. But there's a reason why I called you here instead of anyone else who could help me check it out. I know you're supposed to be resting, but it felt right to invite you over. It was a bit hard getting you to come here without spoiling the surprise, though."

"That was an annoying effort, I'll admit," Kyoko smiled, "but you did a good job."

"Thanks," Makoto smiled, "So...you ready to see it?"

"Lead the way," Kyoko replied, gesturing forward.

Makoto gave a single nod, then proceeded to walk over to the wall where the hidden room was. With a quick tug on the right books, the door to the secret area opened up. The room was small, only big enough to fit one or two people inside, but it was still impressive. The walls were lined with monitors and a few keyboards, all of which were powered by an electrical box that was sitting in the corner of the room.

Kyoko also saw a few shelves with dusty paper files on them. At a glance, it was clear which one's Makoto had already read and which one's he had left be.

"What's all this then?" she asked.

"Well, I was hoping I could your opinion on that," Makoto told her, "but from what I can tell, this room was supposed to be some kind of secret study. A place where someone could hide and work on stuff away from everyone else."

"A spy room?"

"Possibly, or just a place to think."

"Junko's?"

"That's what I thought at first, but...Well, when I was looking around, I found a bunch of these files on the shelf," Makoto explained, "past investigations, secrets about the school, and even a few hidden journal entries that somebody left behind. All of them are signed with the same name..."

"Who's?" Kyoko tilted her head. Makoto swallowed, as if he was hesitating telling her, but did so anyway.

"The previous headmaster, who died prior to our Killing Game," Makoto told her, "Jin Kirigiri. I think this was his secret study."

Kyoko's eyes widened.

"My...father's?" she asked.

"I know how crazy it sounds," Makoto replied, "but this place has the same vibe that his office did, and the writing style in these documents matches up with what we knew about him. Plus, I can't think of a reason why anyone else would be hiding this place, not even Junko."

Kyoko felt a little bit of emotion rise up inside her, but quickly stomped it back down, keeping her expression calm.

In the eyes of many, and in the heart of Kyoko herself, she and Jin Kirigiri were related by blood, but nothing more. For most of her life, she believed that Jin left her when she was a little girl and that he used her mother's death as an excuse so that he could leave the house, never knowing him as a father because they never really spoke to each other much during their days together.

It was Kyoko's disturbingly twisted grandfather, Fuhito Kirigiri, a man she had spent her whole life looking up to before she found the truth of who he really was, who encouraged her to hate her father. In reality Jin left the family because Fuhito showed no care when Jin's wife died.

When Kyoko found out that her father died in the school at the hands of Junko and Mukuro, and found his skeleton, she didn't show any feelings towards his death. But Makoto, who was looking at the remains of her father instead, noticed that she didn't even look in the box.

Makoto somehow knew that somewhere in her heart she must have thought she was wrong and guilty about her father's death. But she never showed it. Not even now.

"That is certainly interesting," she commented, "I wonder why he didn't tell me about it, if this is his secret study."

"I don't know," Makoto said, "maybe he was just hiding it in case anyone tried to snoop around and found his investigation papers? I mean, it's not like you would have remembered it was here after Junko wiped our memories, so maybe he did tell you and you just don't remember?"

"Fair point..." Kyoko nodded, "So what's in here that you think is so important?"

"I think it'd be easier if you saw for yourself..." Makoto gestured towards some of the shelves, "just...be careful. The dust is thick in here."

Kyoko was honestly hesitant. Yes, as it turned out, Jin Kirigiri wasn't the poor, selfish man that Kyoko thought he was, but at the same time, she'd been avoiding places associated with him since their escape from the school. She didn't want to think about him, or about her past in general, because she didn't want to stir any painful feelings inside of her.

But still, Makoto had been nothing but kind to her, and he had taken time out of his day to find this secret study. He had even invited her specifically, despite knowing how she felt. Kyoko would have been lying if she said she wasn't at least a little curious, so with a deep breath, she walked over to the shelf, grabbed one of the folders, and flipped it open.

Makoto, for his part, lingered in the doorway, letting her read alone, but waiting nearby enough so that he could offer his support if she needed it.

"Is this..." she whispered, her voice trailing off as she began to read.

"Yeah," Makoto said, his own tone low, "it is."

On the inside of the folder, Kyoko saw a picture, a list, and some handwritten notes. The photo was of a young girl, around 10 years old...Unmistakably herself as a child.

Her style was a bit softer and less hardened than her current self, though still notably professional and reserved. She had long, silver-purple hair tied in a neat, straight ponytail, with her bangs framing her face and covering part of her forehead.

Kyoko wondered how her father got this picture of her. After all, this had been taken long after they'd been separated, so where did it come from?

"There's a letter," Makoto mentioned, "you can read it if you want, but I've already done that."

Kyoko knew that even though he said she could read it if she wanted, his tone suggested that he really wanted her to read it now. Maybe not out loud, but still while she had it so she wouldn't forego the chance to read it later.

She sighed and found the letter he was talking about, and her eyes began moving along the page, silently reading her father's words:

Dear Kyoko,

I hope this letter finds you, though I can only imagine what state you might be in, should it reach you at all. And I hope, despite everything, you will still find it in your heart to read it.

The world seems to have fractured at its seams, spiraling into something darker with each passing day. This tragedy...it is beyond anything I could have predicted, even in my worst fears. I can only wonder how you and your classmates are managing in the middle of it all. I do not know what kind of future is left for you, or for any of the young souls burdened by the chaos we failed to prevent.

I can only apologize, though I know it will never be enough. For not being there when you needed me, for all the unanswered questions I left you with. Believe me, leaving you was not a choice I made lightly. I told myself that my distance would protect you, that it was the only way to keep you safe from a fate darker than loneliness.

Seeing what you have become...an accomplished, highly intellectual detective, I believe that my father's teachings served you well, even if I disagreed with the notion myself. Yet now, I can't help but regret it. I can't help but wish that I had been stronger, had found another way. One that did not mean leaving you on your own.

But even in my absence, Kyoko, I have always cared. You must know that. I followed your progress from afar, watched you grow into someone more resilient and brilliant than I could ever have imagined. I see in you the strength I had hoped for, though I had no right to ask it of you.

Hold fast to that strength. The world may be coming undone, but I have faith that if anyone can navigate it, it is you. I say this not as your headmaster, but as your father, and whether you accept as much is not for me to force upon you.

With all my love and my deepest regrets,

-Jin.

Kyoko could feel her hand beginning to tremble as she reached the end of the letter, and she quickly placed the folder back down on the shelf. She took a deep breath, then turned back to face Makoto, who had patiently waited for her.

"It's a shame," she commented.

"What is?" Makoto asked, a little confused.

"This room," Kyoko explained, "all this space, and for what? To keep secrets, and hide things away. Such a waste..."

Makoto knew exactly what was going on, though. He knew her too well not to.

"We'll get the chance to make better use of it," he reassured her, "once everything's settled, I'll have a room cleared out. You can store all the important evidence you need in here, and nobody will be able to get to it. You can make it your own personal study, and we'll call it the Kyoko Kirigiri room!"

He flashed her a bright smile, hoping to cheer her up.

Kyoko stared at him blankly, but there was a twitch in her mouth, as if she wanted to smile back.

"We can discuss that later," she said, turning back to the shelf, "for now, I should check over the files and make sure we're not missing anything."

"Sure thing," Makoto agreed, "but...Kyoko?"

"Yes?"

"You know you don't have to be like this ALL the time, right?"

"Excuse me?"

Makoto sighed.

"I know you've been like this for as long as you can remember. You keep your emotions in check so that the people around you can't take advantage of them. It's the best defense mechanism you've got. But, the world's different now. We're rebuilding it. We've overcome the worst of our despair," he asserted, "You're among friends. I know this is gonna sound cheesy, but you're safe. There's no reason for you to have to keep putting on a mask all the time, not when we're here for you. You don't have to be so cool, calm and collected 24/7. If you want to cry, then cry."

Kyoko shook her head.

"I don't want to cry," she made this clear, "but...you're right in that I feel...emotional...about this..."

"There's...actually another thing in that file that you might want to see," Makoto mentioned, "it's a photo. I'm not sure who of, but I can take a guess."

Kyoko turned back to the files, and found the photo.

It was of her father, and another woman sitting next to him, back when he was much younger. She was sitting on Jin's lap, her head resting against his chest. A wide, contented smile was spread across her face, and Jin was grinning down at her, his arm wrapped protectively

She looked a lot like Kyoko. She shared her composed demeanor and elegant appearance, with some physical similarities. She had a refined, calm aura, and her hair was a muted shade, worn in a practical yet stylish way, possibly in a short, neat cut or a simple, low bun.

"I was thinking that might be your mother," Makoto mentioned.

"I agree," Kyoko nodded, and surprisingly, a smile broke across her face, "so that's what she looked like?"

"You didn't know?" Makoto asked.

"I never met her truly," Kyoko said, "she passed away when I was too young to remember her. I'm sure I'd have some semblance if I was allowed to visit her, but my grandfather forbade me. He wanted to prioritize my detective work."

Makoto clicked his tongue. Even though he knew that he had been an iconic figure in Kyoko's life, he couldn't hide his disdain.

"I know this isn't my place to say. I can't speak for either of you, after all," he said, "but Kyoko...Jin really did love you as his daughter. I'm certain of that now. Whether you agree or not is a matter for you, but you can't deny the proof."

Kyoko nodded.

"You're right," she said, "as far as my father's involvement, there's no denying the facts."

She put the file back on the shelf, then turned and looked at him.

"Thank you, Makoto," she said "For showing me this, I mean. I think you were right to. This isn't the kind of thing you can just ignore, no matter how hard you try. It's something that has to be faced."

"I agree," Makoto smiled back, "so it's no problem, really."

"And, also, I'm sorry. For putting you through this, for making you deal with my issues. You're trying so hard, and I appreciate that," she said, "I'm a bit embarrassed, honestly. I'm supposed to be helping you with your investigations, and instead you're doing all the work and having to worry about me on top of it. You'd think, with all my experience, I'd have a little more self-control..."

"Hey, it's fine," Makoto assured her, "it's okay to lose your composure once in a while. In fact, I like this side of you. Not to say that you're a dishonest person. I just want you to be more honest with yourself, just like you are with us."

"Honest with myself?" she frowned curiously.

"Yeah, when it comes to emotions, anyway," he elaborated, "We're friends, so we don't mind. Just...don't shut yourself out. Don't pretend you're okay when you're not, and don't pretend like you're not hurt when you are."

"I suppose I could work on that..." Kyoko said.

"Yes, you could," he chuckled, "just...if you need to let your emotions out, do it any way you please, and I'll help you with it."

Kyoko paused, considering his words for a moment.

Makoto was completely the polar opposite of her. He wore his heart on his sleeve, and never usually hid how he felt. Even when he tried, he was usually bad at it.

His kindness and compassion for others were evident in his every action, and that was one of the many reasons why everyone who had been affected by the tragedy adored him.

Maybe there was some wisdom in that. After all, Kyoko wasn't sure how much longer she could go on keeping her feelings to herself. And she trusted Makoto with her life. She had every reason to, after all.

"If that's...really how you feel..." she lowered her eyes for a minute, brushing some hair to the side with her hand, "could you...come closer?"

"Sure," Makoto nodded, carefully moving a little closer, "is there something else you need me to look at?"

"Not quite," Kyoko replied, "I was actually thinking that I'd like to return the favor..."

She carefully wrapped her arms around him in a hug. Makoto paused for a moment before he returned the gesture, as Kyoko rested her head on his shoulder.

True to her word, she didn't cry. But she did take a minute to bask in the feeling of having someone so close, a warmth she hadn't experienced in a long time.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Makoto didn't say anything back, but Kyoko didn't miss the small, comforting squeeze he gave her as they stood there, embracing each other in the secret study.

In that moment, Kyoko felt the urge to say something more.

Maybe the world wasn't ready, maybe she wasn't, or maybe it wasn't the right time. But even so, the words bubbled up inside her, and she wanted nothing more than to say them. She lifted her head, and stared into his eyes.

"Can I kiss you?" she asked.

"Sure," Makoto said again, without hesitation, knowing that this had been a long time coming.

The two moved their heads closer, and their lips met, as Kyoko's hand found its way to Makoto's hair. He pulled her closer, deepening the kiss, and she let out a soft sigh.

After a few minutes, the two reluctantly separated, and Makoto gave a small laugh.

"So...did you just kiss me because you were grateful?" he asked, his tone light and teasing, "or was there a little more to it than that?"

"You're smart," Kyoko smirked, "I'm sure you can figure it out."

"Well, maybe you could give me a clue?" he suggested.

Kyoko thought about it, and her answer came quickly.

"It's not something that needs a reason, is it?" she said, "If two people love each other, then there's no reason not to express it. That's my opinion, at least."

Makoto blushed.

"Love?" he said, his tone incredulous, "Is that how you feel?"

"I wouldn't ask otherwise," Kyoko shook her head, "you know me. I'm not the kind of person to ask something like that without meaning it. Unless the idea of your lips on mine is that revolting."

"Don't be stupid," he chuckled, pulling her in for some more.

Time passed, and eventually they broke away. Kyoko left the files where she had found them, took her cane, and they walked out of the study, locking pinkies.

"I'll definitely come back to that room later," she said, "I...think there's more I want to learn about my father."

"Me too," Makoto nodded, "just make sure you let me know next time. I'll come with you."

"You don't have to do that," Kyoko assured him.

"I know, but I want to," Makoto said, "for a few reasons of my own."

"And those are?" she asked, genuinely curious.

"Well, for one," he listed, "I also want to learn more about Jin. And even if I didn't, I want you to know that come hell or high water, I'll be there to support your or lend you an ear if you need it. That you can lean on me if you have to."

"A fair point," she said, "but also, I hope you don't feel like you have to watch over me or worry about me. I am an independent woman, after all. You don't have to treat me like a porcelain doll."

"Oh, I know," he nodded, "it's just that...well, it's nice to have someone watching your back."

"I agree," Kyoko nodded, "sorry for being difficult. Are there any other reasons?"

"Well," he leaned in, his tone and expression surprisingly low and flirtatious for him, nuzzling his cheek against hers, "I don't think anyone else knows about that study yet. So it's nice to know there's a place we can go without getting...interrupted..."

"Psh...You dog...!" she snapped teasingly, planting a kiss on his cheek.

[celtigxr]

The Pink Dread (Master List) - - - - - ch. xiv: The Will of Man

Chapter Summary: It's going to be one very long night.

Word Count: 4429

Sneak Peak: “This your plan, huh? Finish off what you started?”

Warnings: Public intoxication, dirty thoughts, manhandling, angst, Brat!Valeana.

T H E  G R E E N S 

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Aemond had escorted Lady Maris back to her apartments after their time in the library. He was a bit surprised how easily he fell into a long conversation with her, and how it was not even forced. Maris was far more intelligent than he would have assumed; she had an interest in herbology and the medicinal purposes of plants. In another life, she could have been a maester. She even had her own journal she pressed flowers and plants in and wrote down information that she had learned from them.

She was different to Valeana, pleasantly so. She was intelligent in similar ways to him, and that made the prospect of courting her seem less like a chore. The idea of actually marrying her, however, was difficult to swallow, despite the distinct possibility that it might be a reality should he carry along with this charade. Though, Aemond supposed it wouldn’t be terrible. Their conversations were academic in nature, which he enjoyed. With Valeana it was almost never serious; she was quick to make jokes, or gush over superficial things like how a woman’s dress was made, or about a particular shade of green on a leaf she spotted. It was hardly stimulating, so Maris was a breath of fresh air when it came to his experiences with the fairer sex. It also helped that she wasn’t terrible to look at either.

Aemond did notice that she tended to ramble quite a bit, going on tangents about random facts that he either already knew about or didn’t interest him. There was one moment where she corrected him on the pronunciation of a common bush flower known to be toxic in large amounts, which annoyed him more than he cared to admit (he was positive that he was saying it correctly, having heard it a hundred times). He brushed it off, though, for the sake of the conversation and the obvious blush over her cheeks and ears that betrayed both her nervousness and attraction.

“Good night, my lady,” he had bowed and kissed her hand, a gentlemanly smile upon his lip. That blush came back as she bowed her head and gave him a stuttered good night before reluctantly closing the door to the tower. 

Aemond’s good mood was reflected in his gait as he trailed from the north tower, back to the Throne Room to reach the Holdfast. As he passed the shadow of his ancestral throne, Aegon intercepted him on his way out. 

“Brother! You’re looking very cheerful,” The elder slowed down his pace to turn to Aemond. “Coming back from Madam Sylvi’s? That is where I am headed right now.”

“My mood has significantly depreciated these last few seconds,” The younger pursed his lips and partially turned to Aegon’s direction. “Is there something you need of me, or can I go on my way?”

“I see the Madam is losing her touch, if you are already agitated so soon after her craft.”

“I was not–” He interrupted himself. Aemond’s eye shut upon realizing he was quickly losing his composure. However, simultaneously, the chorus of giggles, followed by gasps of women caught his and Aegon’s immediate attention. 

The following sight had rendered Aemond completely motionless, as the only thing he was capable of doing was trying to process what was happening. 

With a loud shout of: “Egg-On-Toast!” the two princes had come to the immediate understanding that they were in the presence of drunk wellbred women. A rare sighting to be sure, though such public displays from young ladies at such high standings could potentially ruin their reputation for the rest of their lives. And yet, he did not care; it was not his burden to bear. Except, among the three was a certain Valyrian blooded woman, and then he cared immensely. 

The one-eyed prince found himself fixated on Valeana as she stumbled on her feet and words 

Aemond was biting the inside of his cheek, trying to keep his expression as stoic as possible. The last thing he wanted was to expose his fascination and amusement over the entire situation… Particularly when Valeana jumped out of her skin like a startled cat when she noticed him. It reminded him of all those times he would scare her after jumping out from around the corner or through a secret passageway. The way her body would go rigid, eyes wide and mouth open and pulled downwards as she gave a strangled yelp, then cursing him to the hells afterwards. 

It was adorable. 

And gods dammit, it still was.

But then she had to go around and be a pain in his arse again, reminding him why he was actively avoiding her. Why her presence was much like that bush flower he had been talking with Maris about earlier: Toxic in high doses. 

“Prince Almond.” 

His eye narrowed at her challengingly, alight with his suppressed need to smile at her tenacity. Alcohol looked good on her. She looked so flushed and darling.

Aemond growled internally at himself.

“Please do not pay her any mind, my Prince,” Ser Erryk approached her and gently grabbed her arm. 

Valeana didn’t put up much of a fight when he tugged her back into his orbit, but she kept her bleary gaze on Aemond as if he would disappear, and reappear somewhere else if she looked away. In fact, she confirmed that is exactly what she was thinking when she pointed at her eyes with two fingers and then at Aemond, mouthing “I’m watching you.”

“I’ll bring her straight back to Maegor’s Holdfast as soon as I see to Lady Wylla and Lady Ellyn,” The white cloak continued. 

“Oh, that won’t be necessary,” Aegon stepped up and took Valeana’s other arm. “Your hands are full enough as it is, Ser– Erryk?” The knight nodded to confirm that he got it correctly. Aegon smiled, then placed his free hand on the woman’s other shoulder. “I’ll escort Lady Valeana safely to her apartments.”

“No,” Aemond immediately blurted without thought. “I’ll escort her back. ”

His declaration took everyone by surprise, especially Valeana, who openly stared at him as if he said the most offending thing to ever disgraced her ears. 

Aegon tilted his head, a curious smile upon his face. Devious and challenging. “Ser Erryk, do not listen to my brother. Lady Valeana will be much safer in my company”

The two princes were glaring at each other, placing Valeana right in the middle, causing her head to dart between the two. Meanwhile, the two other girls whispered and giggled to each other, something about being fought over by princes and a… spitroast?

The kingsguard also looked between the two brothers, then opened his mouth to insist that he will escort her back to the Holdfast, but Aemond was the first to break the tense silence. 

“Ser Erryk, I trust your wise and honourable judgment. Prince Aegon is…” He tilted his head down challengingly at his brother. “Unsuited to escort a vulnerable, inebriated, young maiden alone at night. It is wiser that Lady Valeana comes with me.” His voice darkened as he continued, common tongue dropped in preference to a more eloquent one. “Jikagon raqagon aōha līvi, lēkia. Issa daor aōhon bisa bantis.” (Go enjoy your whores, brother. She is not yours this evening.)

“Whadju just call me…” Valeana’s muttered question went ignored, as both brothers were poised to attack each other. 

The comment achieved the effect that Aemond desired. That smug face Aegon wore fell as every word was spoken. From the implication spoken in common tongue, to the language of their ancestors that he knew Aegon could not understand. Aegon openly glowered at him, nostrils flared and jaw clenched tightly in a scowl. 

And just like that, Aemond’s mood was elevated once more. He even dared to smile down at Aegon before turning to speak to the knight. 

“It is best you hurry along, Ser Erryk. It will take sometime to get Lady Wylla back to her brother, and I am sure that Lord Borros is wrought with worry for his daughter,” Without straying his eyes off of his elder brother, he reached out and plucked Valeana from him by a tug of her wrist. In her drunken, confused state, she stumbled into his chest, her head connecting to his sternum, tucked under his chin. Aemond was immediately overwhelmed with the smells of citrus, wine, strong ale, and the familiar pheromonal scent of her sweat.

Aegon’s eyes flickered down at Valeana, who was blinking in confusion, using her palms to anchor herself against Aemond’s chest.

“Oh my gods,” Ellyn whispered to her Northern counterpart.

“I know! This is the stuff bards sing about,” Wylla whispered back, eyes captivated by the show before her. 

“The room’s spinning right now, can we all just fuckin’ leave?” Valeana slurred tiredly, one hand massaging her temple. 

“Very well,” Aegon nodded and smiled stiffly, then looked back up to Aemond. His eyes went dark, “Don’t let her fall, Aemond.”

Aemond’s smirk faltered, especially because Valeana heard him and made a pathetic little whine. She went to reach for Aegon, and that made Aemond’s blood pressure spike, forcing his own hand to grab it before she could touch the other prince. And for a brief moment, he could’ve sworn he saw Aegon’s arm move, as if he were going to reach out for her in turn.

“You best get going, Cargyll,” Aemond said curtly, and then bowed his head towards the other two women. “Lady Wylla, Lady Ellyn.” 

Tugging her with him, Aemond turned to leave the Throne Room, but not without his charge dragging her feet as she tried to reach out for her drunken companions. 

“Do not worry! I can take’em– Just gotta stay on his left side. Won’t know what’s comin’. Fare thee wel–” With a sharp yank, Aemond pulled her out of sight.

Valeana dragged her feet as Aemond tugged her down the hall by her wrist. She whined, tugged back, slipped and then cried out. When the latter happened, he immediately stopped walking and turned to her sharply, but she appeared to be fine. Flushed from brow to breast, sweaty and frazzled, but otherwise… 

“You’re walking too fast, Almond,” She threw her head back in exasperation. “With yer stupid long spidery legs.” 

“You’re making a spectacle of yourself,” He sharply shot back. “You threaten not just your reputation, but your family’s as well. I need to get you back to your rooms as swiftly as possible, so make haste– Valeana!”

She dropped down to her knees, her arm limply suspended from where he gripped her wrist. 

“I did not ask for your help, Almond,” She twisted her arm feebly, trying to free herself from him. “Aegon could have–”

“Aegon,” he practically growled the name. “Aegon would have pulled you into a dark corner and taken advantage of you.” 

“You do not know that.”

“You do not know my brother like I do,” he narrowed his eye down at her stubborn form on the floor. “Though mayhaps that is what you desire. To be felt up like a common tart.”

Her brow knitted at that, then she blinked rapidly in confusion, “Whu-what? Didju just call me a tart, Aemond Targaryen? Did you not just call me a fucking tart?”

He huffed through his nose, “Get up Valeana, before more people see you.”

“Oh, no, no, no,” she stood up straighter on her knees to make her point. “You just dug your grave, Targaryen. You think I was difficult before? I’mma make this night the worst godsdamn night of your miserable life, you one-eyed wyrm.” 

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Valeana made well on her threat. She did, in fact, make that night the worst night of his life. Aemond wasn’t even entirely certain how much time passed, but what he did know was that they weren’t even halfway to Maegor’s Holdfast. He had started by dragging her across the floor by her wrists, while she explained her marital plans with her co-conspirators, Wylla and Ellyn. 

“Wylla and Ellyn will marry my brothers, and then I will marry Lord Cregan, you understand. That way, we will all be good-sisters… And in a way, we will be wives to each other. It’s a brilliant plan, really.” 

Aemond was doing a good job at not interacting with her drunk babbling, but he couldn’t stop himself when he asked, “Does Stark know about this arrangement?” His tone laced with bitter exhaustion. 

“I am sure Wylla is presenting the same proposal as we speak.” Her eyes fluttered closed, then she scrunched up her face “Are we there yet? I lost feeling in my arms.” 

Aemond immediately dropped her arms and she flopped on the ground like a starfish. 

“We would have arrived sooner if you got off the floor.”

“But the floor is nice and cool, and this bloody castle is so hot, Aemond,” she whined. 

He ran his hands over his face from his temples, down to his eye in frustration. They were getting nowhere, and the hour of the wolf was upon them. At this rate, by the time they reached her family’s wing, it would be dawn and the servants would be milling through the corridors to fulfill their morning routines.

Impatient and resolute in not allowing her to get the best of him, Aemond bent over, hauled her up from the floor, and then slung her over his shoulder. She gave an unladylike groan at the contact of her stomach being pressed against his narrow shoulder bone. She weighed like a sack of lead, but Aemond secured her legs and strode forward. 

He couldn’t move as swiftly as he would have liked, but they were making more ground this way. It was easier to dodge oncoming guards, as well, but the caveat was her kicking and slapping his back and rear like a war drum. 

“You have a very pert arse, Almond,” she had said after giving it another slap with a weak hand. He hardly could feel it through his leather breeches, but it was enough for heat to reach the tip of his ears. Out of irritation, of course, not for any other reason.

Then Valeana began to groan and moan, and when she stopped kicking about, he felt a tentative tap on his back. 

“P-put me down, Ae-aemond.”

“As much as I desire to, I am not wasting any—”

“‘M gonna to be sick,” her meek confession was enough for him to immediately stop walking and bend slightly to place her on her feet. She wasted no time to clammer against the wall until she found a narrow window that looked over the side of the cliffs. He shut his eye when he heard her heave, followed by the tell-tale sound of watery contents exiting her gullet, and splashing down the side of the Red Keep. 

Aemond leaned against the stone wall and patiently waited for her, eye remaining closed and trying to disassociate to any place that wasn’t his reality. Perhaps he should have let Aegon escort her back… Whatever would have happened between the two wouldn’t be much different to what he came upon the other night, and more importantly, it was not his business. Valeana was not a friend to him and vice versa. Not to mention, the present moment just killed any remnants of attraction he shamefully and subconsciously harboured. 

Finally, Valeana pulled away from the window, using her sleeves to wipe at her mouth and chin. She had a pained expression on her pink face when she settled her side against the wall. 

“That is the price you pay for overindulging in drink,” his berate was softer than he’d intended. 

She sent him a withering look, “Why did you insist on escorting me back, Aemond?”

There was some surprising clarity in her words, almost like she had purged the source of her befuddlement just enough to think and speak coherently. The problem was he didn’t have a good answer, at least one that would satiate her and not make him look like a fool. 

“Aegon cannot be trusted with—”

She groaned and rolled her eyes, “Aegon…Aegon… It’s not about him. Many guards have crossed our paths since you dragged me off. You have avoided them, when you could have just pawned me off to them, effectively unburdening yourself.”

“I do not trust–” He thinned his lips, and turned away before correcting himself, placing the view of her face at his blind spot. “Outside the kingsguard, the guards patrolling the keep are just as weak-willed as any man.”

“Oh really?

He did not see her take tentative steps towards him, not until she was right under his nose, craning her neck to look up at him. 

“Are you weak-willed, my Prince?” She raised an eyebrow at him.

He scoffed, nearly laughing at the question. 

“I’ve already established I do not trust my mortality whilst in your presence… but could I trust my virtue in your—” she looked him up and down and tilted her head, “strong, yet nimble hands?”

Aemond pulled himself from the wall and grasped her bicep, “Let’s move before anyone sees how foolish you are.”

“Stop manhandling me! I’m the bloody Queen of the North! My husband, Cregan Stark, will not stand for this.”

At least he wasn’t dragging her along the floor, or carrying her over his admittedly sore shoulder. They continued to walk until the corridor opened up to large arches, showing the small courtyard below them. With his destination now in sight, he gently pushed her forward, ignoring her soft whines and complaints of the humidity. 

And then they reached a familiar corner, to a familiar flight of spiral stairs. That is when her feet froze. 

“No,” She spun around and tried to push through him. “I knew it– I knew I could not trust you–”

“Valeana–” he gripped her arms, oblivious to the reasons for her sudden distress. “Stop being difficult, we are almost there.” 

“This your plan, huh? Finish off what you started?”

A flash of confusion etched his features until he finally got a good look at exactly where they were. The prince’s shoulders tensed at the realization, and in that brief moment she managed to rush past him on wobbly legs. Aemond was quick to grab onto her wrist. 

“Let me go! Let go of me!” She yanked her arm, causing her sleeve to stretch and pull over her pale shoulder. 

“Valeana,” he pleaded, pulling her body against his, her back to his chest and her head tucked under his chin. Still holding onto her wrist, he folded their arms around her waist to keep her to him. “I am not trying to hurt you. I just want to see you safely back to your rooms.”

He couldn’t see it, but there were fat tears stuck to her eyelashes and rolling over her rosy cheeks. He couldn’t see it, but her left leg was shaking. He couldn’t see it, but she was baring and gritting her teeth as if she was preparing for the worst. But he could hear her sniffles, and feel her trembling fingers, and out of instinct he pulled her closer to him. 

“I’m not going to push you, Valeana.”

“You already did,” she replied immediately with a shaky breath. “Twice.” 

“That was…” He sighed through his lips, “That was a mistake.”

She slowly stopped fighting against him, and slumped in his hold like a sack of potatoes. He could feel her breathing harshly through her parted lips. 

“I’m not so sure, anymore,” her words were spoken so lowly, he almost didn’t hear her. “Let me go, Aemond. I’ll– I’ll find my own way.”

The prince was unwilling to do as she asked; he was frozen in his own body with no control of his limbs as they clung to Valeana Celtigar, afraid of letting her go. Afraid of seeing her leave him again. This was the first time in ten years that his arms have embraced her. She felt so perfect against his frame, it would be a sin if they parted, surely. 

She made a move to step away, to pry his arm from around her and leave, but the approaching footsteps and chatter of servants brought back reality. The hour of the nightingale was arriving, the dawn nearly here, and the Keep was starting to wake. 

With the sudden realization of how this looked (she disheveled, crying, with her dress tugged over her shoulder, and him holding her in a vice against his body), Aemond sprung back to sense and pulled her away from a potential scandal to both their houses. 

“We’ll go through the tunnels,” he went past the offending stairs and marched over to an alcove where a statue of the Maiden stood, surrounded by patterned tapestries. He pushed them aside to reveal a slender door, and then reached for a wall sconce, plucking the torch from its cradle. 

“Stay close,” he briefly released her to pull open the door. Billows of dust and a distinctive crack of wood told her it had been some time since this hidden passageway was used. Aemond arched his arm as he held open the door and gestured with a nod of his head for her to enter. 

Valeana hesitated of course, especially since all she could see was darkness before her. Though behind her was a maze of corridors and parapets that she would have to navigate on wobbly and sore legs. To avoid those spiral stairs, the way to the Holdfast was long and tedious. 

With a sigh of defeat, she bowed her head and slipped into the space, hands bracing the wall of the narrow fit. Aemond followed, shutting the door securely, and held the torch above their heads to shed light for their path. The narrow hallway went on for quite a while, forcing them to shimmy their way through. 

Valeana huffed and wiped her slick forehead with the back of her hand, “It’s hotter in here than outside.”

“You wouldn’t be so hot if you didn’t wear so many layers,” Aemond replied, eyes trained over her head, down the never ending passageway. It was a curious choice, given his knowledge of her aversion to heat. The dresses were lovely, and complimented her… assets well, but they were impractical in the south. Even highborn ladies at the Keep wore dresses with lighter fabric, forgoing petticoats and even chemises sometimes. Valeana’s dresses thus far had been wide and layered. 

“You’re right,” she surprised him with her answer, forcing him to glance down in time to see her exhale tiredly through pouted lips. The yellow glow of the firelight caused the sweat on the tops of her breasts to sparkle, making them look like giant pearls. 

Aemond swallowed thickly, then quickly diverted his attention to the endless abyss. He was taken back to the times when he was a lad on the cusp of manhood. Finding hair in places where there weren’t before, and waking up with a stiff member or wet bed sheets. Valeana was of the same age, going through similar but different growing pains, and they were difficult to ignore. Perhaps it was because of her weight, but Valeana’s breasts were always large – not nearly the size they were now, but bigger than most girls her age at the time. They’d pillow over the constraints of her dresses, and when she breathed heavily, the fabric would dig into the soft flesh… like it was doing now. 

The first time he stroked himself was to the memory of Valeana Celtigar’s breasts, wanting nothing more to place his cock between them. And then paint them with his spend.  

The narrow passageway started to widen when it started to decline, and the walls began to show small diamond shaped gaps in the stone wall that allowed a draft in. Valeana moved over to them and moaned satisfyingly. She threw her head back and allowed the gentle breeze waft over her arched neck and bosoms, forcing her reluctant guide’s eye to fixate on her. Then she started to unlace her bodice at the front, and something spiked inside him that felt like either panic or excitement. 

“What are you doing?”

“I told you, I’m fucking hot,” she pulled one string at a time, exposing the thin chemise underneath. The weight of her breasts were nearly free from the confines of the corseted top, practically spilling out. 

Perhaps it was panic. A sliver of pius upbringing that drove him to jerk his hand forward to stop her. The word ‘stop’ was on his lip as fear gripped his throat. Fear of what? Fear of being caught in a compromising position? Or fear of his desire? The fear of doing exactly what he implied his brother might do, had he been in Aemond’s place. 

Aemond’s splayed hand was upon her breasts in an instant. It had ceased her movements, yes, but it effectively backfired for him. The width of his palm was holding back the spill of her heavy chest, and his fingers slightly curled into the soft flesh through the muslin fabric of her chemise. His thumb hovered over her cleavage, which rose and fell rapidly, only now for reasons other than trying to breathe through humid air. 

Valeana looked down at his hand and then slowly raised her eyes to him. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed down his apprehension. Her pupils were blown wide, and he imagined that his single violet eye looked similarly. Aemond was breathing through the gap between his lips, which made him instinctively flick out his tongue and run it along the chapped skin. That’s when he caught her eyes flickering from his gaze, down towards his mouth. 

The subtle motion emboldened him enough to finally move his thumb. His digit plunged between her breasts, immediately enveloped by their silky – albeit slick with sweat – and smooth embrace. The heat that stirred in his pelvis immediately clouded his judgement, but he kept still, waiting to see how she would react. When she didn’t move, he tested again by moving his thumb up and down the valley, and then over a mound. 

And then it happened. Valeana arched her back into his touch and an airy plea in the form of his name was pulled from her plush pink lips. That was when Aemond became completely undone. She won. His resolve and will crumbled, and he fell on his knees before her like a sinner at the feet of the Maiden.

Notes: I think we can all collectively agree Aemond is a tit guy.

Tag: @queen-of-elves, @keylin1730, @anakilusmos, @weepingfashionwritingplaid, @sugutoad, @desireangel

( if you wish to be tagged for this story, just give me a reply! )

Please do not re post, redistribute or plagiarize my work. The only other place this story is posted on is ao3 under the same username.

[kaivenom]

i love your writing soso much!! I'm super hyperfixtated on heartbreak high at the moment and really just need a super comforting fic of ant and spider looking after the female reader (who is their best friend), i dont mind the reason they are comforting her you can choose whatever you like!! <3

A bad morning, a good afternoon

Summary: after a particulary rough fight with your parents, you just have to clear your mind. Hopefully your best friends are more than eager to help you.

Pairing: Platonic!Spider x reader, Platonic!Ant x reader

Warning: a little bad writed fluff (i think?), one swear word

Masterlist

You ran outside your house and to the only place you felt safe, near the beach. You sat on the sand and watched the waves until it was late on the afternoon, ignoring your phone and all the calls you suppose are from your parents.

At some point, you saw a particulary familiar blonde and brunette hairs walking in your direction. When they got in front of you, they stood there and started making dramatic movements, obviously complaining about your disappearance.

"What the fuck, (y/n)? we've been looking at you all day, we thought we agreed on eating together today." Spider complained with a really altered voice.

"We mean, when you didn't get to the spot we said, we waited half an hour, then called you, then went to your house and now we are here... you get why we are worried, right?"

You felt horrible, you were already sad but now, even more if that's possible cause you made them worry. Your lower lip trembled with the warning of new tears coming out and you looked at their frustated looks.

"Sorry..." you tried to sound determined but your shaky voice was obvious, "i argued with my parents and they were mean and i felt bad and..."

Your hands were to your face, trying to hide your new cries and they sat next to you, his hands perched on your shoulders.

Ant's hand went to your cheek to guide your face to the crock of his neck while Spider's hand squeezed your shoulder trying to confort you.

"Don't worry, everything will be good." that's everything that got out of Ant's mouth.

"We are not mad at you, we won't ever be, we already thought that something bad would happen, but we would appreciate a text or something next time..." and Spider continued with that nervous talk to a good amount of time.

When the night and the cold started to come and be insuferable, they obliged you to stand up and go to Spider's home.

You stoped to get food and drinks and after checking that the house was empty, you three entered, prepared the places to sleep and did a binge watch of your favourites shows and movies.

"Thanks guys, i am really gratefull that i have you in my life." you placed your hands on the top of their head and rubbed their hair a little.

[ihavethedreamies]

Grape | Juicy Fruit | Renjun [NSFW]

Hwang Renjun - NCT Dream

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~1.5k

Pairing: Renjun x AFAB!Reader

Genre: Reader-Insert, Smut, Established Relationship, Porn without Plot

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Swearing, Kissing, Soft Dom! Renjun (Barely there), Oral (M! Receiving), Couch Sex, Unprotected Sex (Don’t!!)

Summary: You have an…intriguing way of eating grapes…

Author's Note: This series was supposed to be of drabbles, and this is the shortest one…sorry.

This is only vaguely based off of Smoothie…I say this because I got the idea for a fruit theme, but past that its unrelated.

-> Series Hub <-

🍉 Mark 🍉

🍌 Jeno 🍌

🍒 Haechan 🍒

🍑 Jaemin 🍑

🍓 Chenle 🍓

🍍 Jisung 🍍

Revised (1/31/25)

I am cross-posting this on Archive. Please reblog! Share, even if its to the other sites! Let me know if you want to be on the taglist!

You love grapes but are extremely picky with them. They have to be hard and crunchy, if they’re even slightly squishy, you won’t eat it. This annoys your boyfriend to no end because he can get them for you and then you might reject them due to improper firmness. This was mostly before you two were dating, now he can pick them out good after nearly two months of getting it wrong. He’s learned. The only problem? You eat them way too fast. Not that you get a stomachache, it’s just you can down a whole bag of them in like two days if he doesn’t make you pace it out. It’s a warm spring day, around 3pm, you have the windows open to air the apartment out after cleaning. He comes home to you sitting on the couch in just a tank top, panties, and sneakers. That's how he knows you have been cleaning. You’re flipping through YouTube on the TV, an empty box of cheese whales laying on the couch cushion next to you.

"You hungry, pretty girl?" Renjun smiles, placing the grocery bags on the counter. You make a general positive grunt, and he pulls the grapes out of a bag and your face lights up.

"Help me put these away first." He chuckles when you groan but get up to do so. You’re normally a stickler for no shoes in the apartment, but your feet hurt without shoes when you clean, so you have a pair just for that exact task. Renjun has a hard time not watching your cute little butt, covered only by purple panties, jogging around the kitchen as you put groceries away. Your tank top is tight, making it obvious you aren’t in a bra, and he has to force his gaze away from you. Even the way the end of your hair, up in a high ponytail, dangles over your shoulders is distracting him. You’re none the wiser. Once everything else is put away, he leads you back to the couch, holding the bag up for you to follow like you’re some kind of animal…it works though. Your boyfriend is not exactly tall for a man, especially compared to his friends, but he’s still almost half a foot taller than you. Because of this, when he holds the bag of grapes above his head as high as possible, you can’t reach them.

"Renjun!" you scold, and he laughs, relenting when he feels your breasts squish against his chest as you try to reach your snack. You’re about to become a snack, if you don’t stop tempting him. Not that you’re trying. You shove the empty box of cheese crackers out of the way, the blue box flying pitifully off the couch and onto the floor. Renjun sighs, too lazy to deal with it right then, so he rests back onto the couch with you. You’ve slipped your sneakers off, socked feet resting on the edge of the cushion, knees to your chest. He tries not to straight out stare at you as you pop the little green orbs into your mouth, one by one. You’re so cute when your cheeks are puffed up, staring enthralled at the video you have pulled up. He’s barely even paying attention to the man in the video, making an instrument out of a squash to play a song with it.

"Ah, fuck." You click your tongue. You have gotten ambitious and tried to put too many grapes in your mouth, one of them slipping past your lips, tumbling to fall right between your tits. Renjun is quicker than either of you thought possible. Before you can pick the fruit up off your skin, he’s leans forward, wrapping his lips around the grape, barely grazing your skin and he pulls back up like what he just did is normal. You blink at him, and he’s fighting back a laugh, trying to stay cool and confident. When your brain registers what he did, you sneer.

"Grape stealer…" You grumble and this makes him laugh, nearly choking on the grape he’s still chewing. Rolling your eyes, you go back to the video, your attention getting caught as his hand reaches to pluck a grape from the vine. Your bewildered stare follows his hand, and he smirks, holding the little green ball between his teeth. Sucking it in, he just holds it in his cheek.

"Bitch-" You start, and he huffs.

"Come and get it then~" Renjun laughs when you shove the bag away, to the other end of the couch, climbing onto him. You straddle his lap and at first, you’re going to pry his mouth open like he’s a puppy chewing on a rock, but his hands come to your hips, pulling you down against him. You freeze, feeling his half-hard cock straining against his jeans, rubbing against your barely covered cunt. That changes your entire approach. Sniffing, trying to appear unaffected, you instead lean down, sealing your lips over his. He immediately lets your tongue enter and you reach in to try and find the fruit. Your tongue hits it, wrapping around it as well as his tongue so you can pull it back into your mouth. Once you have retrieved your bounty, you pull away, saliva drips from your lips and you chew on the grape, sitting smugly on his lap. Instantly, pretty, sweet Renjun is gone, a harder look crossing his face. Your core clenches at the demeanor shift, your smug look disappearing, body deflating a bit. Your fingers mess with the end of his sweatshirt as he nuzzles your neck, starting to kiss and suck there. You shiver with a mewl, fingers dancing down to the zipper of his pants.

"You thirsty now, pretty?"

"Hm~" You hum sheepishly, and he leans back into the couch, his hands leaving you. You take the signal and scramble off his lap to kneel on the floor before him, eagerly unzipping his jeans to grab his fully hard cock. Your mouth waters, craving him way more than you ever would the grapes. When your lips wrap around the head of his cock, starting to take him into your mouth, he realizes why you eating the grapes gets to him so much. You suck them into your mouth just likes you’re sucking his dick. He licks his lips, a slight bit of the juice still lingering.

"Good girl~" He praises as the head of his cock hits the back of your throat and you moan in reply. Renjun rests his hand on your head as it bobs, your hands wrapping around what doesn’t fit in your mouth. Your mouth had been watering already since the grapes are a bit sour, like you like them, and so you’re slathering him and your face with drool. You’re a mess, and it’s one of the hottest things he’s ever seen.

"Okay, up." He grows impatient and leads you to gets up off the floor.

"But-!" You try to protest, but with a great deal more strength than you remember he has, he hauls you up by the elbow and your back hits the couch. Renjun is too eager to even bother taking your tank off, so he just shoves it up and over your breasts, so they’re revealed to him. Seeing you half-clothed like that normally doesn’t do anything for him since it’s your cleaning clothes, but you’re driving him crazy. Your hands scramble at his shoulders, desperately gripping the fabric of his sweatshirt and he huffs before yanking it off. He doesn’t know why you care so much; it’s not likes he looks like Jeno or Jaemin. You let out a long whine as your hands skate over his smooth skin and he’s tired of waiting. Your boyfriend simply pulls your panties to the side, he’s not strong enough to rip them off, and you’d kill him for doing that anyway. Your breath leaves you in a loud gasp as he buries his cock inside you all at once. Your cunt burns pleasantly at the rapid stretch, your legs shivering at Renjun's sides. He watches you, licking his lips, as your tits bounce with each hard thrust he delivers. Your head is thrown back, hair spread over the couch cushion, hands resting on his torso at his ribs.

"R-Ren~!" You cry in delight as he hauls your legs up and over his elbows and rolls his hips even harder. He loves the gasping moans he’s forcing out of you. As he feels himself getting closer to the edge, his thumb lands on your clit, and he feels your cunt clench his cock harder.

"-j-jun!" Your voice is getting hoarse, not holding any noises back.

"Cum, pretty." He presses his thumb harder, and you fall over the edge, your pulsing walls milking his cock as he fucks his cum into you. When he finally stills, you mewl with each panting breath.

"Gotta get you grapes more often~" Renjun chuckles, and you huff.

"Rather have you instead."

-> Series Hub <-

Master-Master List

NCT Master List

[inbarfink]

So here is a thing that I noticed going over the sort of weird expressions that Zim uses in canon. When Zim doesn’t know the human term for something, he will make up some bizarre word combination of his own… but he will hardly ever substitute an Irken term for it. You know, when he first comes to Earth, he doesn’t call Human children ‘smeets’, he calls them ‘worm-babies’. He doesn’t assume the Earth is controlled by a Tallest, he just calls President Man ‘the Earth Leader’. 

And that… makes sense, Irk is a spacefaring empire which clearly had contact with other alien civilizations for a very long time. Zim would have some frame of reference to know that, for example, Vortians don’t call their children ‘Smeets’ and therefore he has no reason to assume the distant alien planet he just landed on would use that term either. I mean, yeah, Zim is often irrational - but that’s one point where he is surprisingly reasonable…. Well, until he needs to think up what he assumes the proper inconspicuous earth term would likely be and comes up with the most ludicrous option available.

And sometimes, and especially later on in the series, it’s clear that he does know what the Correct Earth Term is but is just looking for an excuse to insult humanity again by using a derogatory term he made up. 

And, like, you know… yeah, it is actually kinda obvious why he wouldn’t use the Irken term in that context. He thinks Irkens are inherently superior to humanity. Calling human children ‘Smeets’ would be comparing them to Irken children which would be a compliment to the ‘filthy humans’ that he would not be able to stomach. And like, I know a lot of ‘Alien Among Us’ stories get a lot of their comedy from, y’know, cultural differences and assumptions clashing. But I would argue that while IZ does that sometimes, a lot of Invader Zim’s comedy is actually based on Zim’s immediately assuming Earth Culture has to be as alien to Irken Culture as possible, when they are actually not so different. 

But also I want to take a moment to address the one time where Zim does seemingly uses an Irken term for a human, and that’s when he address the McMeaties clerk guy as ‘Burger Lord’ in ‘Germs’4

Which is probably related to the Irken title for a high-ranking frycook being ‘Frylord’.

But that actually makes sense both in the sense of, like... this term is in use on Foodcourtia, and Foodcourtia, although clearly a part of the Irken Empire, is frequented by many different alien species. So due to the planet's importance as a galactic center for fast food, the term ‘Frylord’ and its derivatives have spread beyond the Irken Empire. Or maybe it was an alien term to begin with and it spread into Foodcourtia through its non-Irken customers. Whatever it is, Zim would at least have a reason to think this might be a universal term and not an Irken-specific thing.

And also, this is a rare occasion where Zim is kinda, like, trying to genuinely get on the good graces of a human and is treating human technology (SPACE MEAT) with an unusual amount of respect - and he just doesn’t really have the mental focus to start condescending to him right now. So kinda reflexively using an unusually respectful Irken term for a mere Human Fast Food Worker makes sense considering his emotional state. He’s probably too germ-panicked to remember he’s not supposed to remember his time in Foodcourtia as well. 

Like, yes, I am aware I am probably looking too deeply into the continuity of this one line. “Germs” and “The Frycook of What Came From All That Space” are so far apart in the timeline that the actual writers probably weren’t thinking about this, right? I just think it’s Cool that one can fit this little ‘Burger Lord’ detail so neatly and so consistently into the lore and with Zim’s characterization.

[saneabandoned]

Diving into Star Wars: The Clone Wars

“Good soldiers follow orders.”

This seems to encapsulate the whole seven seasons of the series Star Wars: The Clone Wars. If you haven’t seen it, haven’t heard of it – in short, it’s an animated series set between Episode II and III of the prequel saga. However, the aim of this is not to be a guide – you can go to Wookiepedia for that; this is supposed to be an essay – analysis, some kind of a deeper-ish dive into the philosophy and meaning of the series, that frankly is one of the best things to happen to this film universe, perhaps ever. I have, time and again, tried to explain for myself the meaning it carries and just why it has me in such a strong chokehold, but I have failed, or at least haven’t reached a conclusion. Maybe it’s not possible, maybe it’s just the magic of being a fan – you see and feel things not everyone would understand, because it speaks to you on some personal level, that even some (more chill than me, at least) fans won’t be able to entirely relate to. I have yet to meet a person as obsessive as I am over all kinds of different media – don’t get me wrong, even though Star Wars is without a doubt my favourite universe, there are many more I have indulged in, wrote about, watched, listened, theorized and all that good stuff throughout many years. But as I have recently come to realize, I have spent the last ten-ish years of my (not that long, to be fair) conscious life thinking about this universe, this whole galaxy (pun absolutely intended) of characters, morals, and plots.

Speaking about morals, that’s where some of the importance of The Clone Wars comes for me personally. Ever since I can remember, Star Wars has been a huge deal in my life – I watched the movies at a very young age (thanks, mom!), but started reading more and more into the whole world as I got older. I thought I’d reached the peak somewhere in high school when I would literally rewatch the prequels every single weekend, and the OG movies about once a month too. I just found it mesmerising, I always have – being a person with a huge imagination, that never quite stops working (and that’s caused me some trouble as well), I found a haven in this world, a place where nothing is too weird, everything is just so brilliantly imagined and thought of, written and painted so vividly, that it feels like someone has taken the insides of my brain, turned them into a whole painting, adding stories, characters and just overall putting into words and pictures the things that I can’t really understand and explain for myself. I found a mirror in this world, a sanctuary for all my thoughts. I used to listen to the soundtracks whenever I felt anxious, and it would transport me directly into the universe I felt so safe in. It was an escape from reality; still is – not that reality was or is particularly scary or unbearable for me; but sometimes I wish I was elsewhere; somewhere where there is courage, bravery, adventure, love, all the things I longed for while being quite honestly, mostly a bored teenager at school.

I have always loved writing, loved expressing my thoughts, putting them into words (as is becoming obvious by this text) and have always greatly appreciated when films, books or other media would reciprocate that – when the words on the screen or the page would feel like I wrote them myself, so true, so real, so incredibly close to me, that I would get literal shivers and wonder if telepathy is actually possible. But hey, that’s The Force for you!

As of now, I have just finished completely rewatching the whole Clone Wars series and as always, I have many thoughts on it. The first time I watched it was right after the final season came out because at that time, and especially during the pandemic, I was going deeper than ever into my interests, rewatching all my favourite things, while also searching for new ones to keep me from going absolutely insane (I think I maybe have succeeded in the opposite though). So, stumbling across this series, I thought I’d give it a try. The rest is history – after absolutely and hungrily devouring it, I continued to Rebels, and every other possible piece of media under the sun. Fabulous times.

Now, one thing I’d like to make clear – I’m not a pro. I am not in any way a certified critic, a writer, or any other sort of person authorised to make such an analysis. I am but a fan, a fan for whom this universe means more than I could ever hope to be able to put into words; a fan who after years of contemplation, has reached a point where I can’t keep it inside any longer. I’d love if this piece of writing makes it out in the universe, reaches as many people who enjoy Star Wars as much as I do, but even if not, I am writing it for myself, I am trying to step out of my comfort zone, reach deep into myself, and in a life of struggling with the loudness of my thoughts, trying to put something down, manifesting my emotions and creating something physical from them; these characters that mean so much to me will never be real, I can never hope to speak to them, touch them, or see them in real life. They have although shaped me as a person and largely formed my psyche and morals, view of the world, inner monologue, even some of my characteristics.

So nevertheless, for me they are more real than a lot of people I know are.

***

To begin, I don’t intend to focus on the Jedi’s role in the war – it is of course vital, but I think the discourse about that is to be found more detailed in relation to the movies, namely the prequels, as CW is very much about the clones themselves. When I first started watching it, I will be honest, I didn’t think I’d find what I ended up finding – and that is such depth that I couldn’t imagine finding again, after being a fan of the movies, both OG and prequels, for so long. But was I wrong!

But let’s start with Ahsoka, since I started by mentioning the Jedi and she is one of the first new characters to appear (besides Rex and many others, of course). First, I wasn’t convinced that I liked her much – she was a bit of an annoying youngling for the first few seasons, after all. I wanted Anakin and that’s about it. Well, I got what I wanted, I think, as I am firm in my opinion that Anakin’s arc is so widely explored that you get a whole another view of his character, something I didn’t think was possible, after all – isn’t the entire saga about him? It is, but still – what I saw in CW, through characters such as Ahsoka and Rex, contributed so much to Anakin’s development as a character and leading force in the saga as I don’t think anything else ever did in the movies, any of them. So, yes, I got what I wanted, but also, I got so much more – Anakin is not my main point of discussion here, I think as main of a character he might be in this series, he is not THE main one, at least not for me. And as Dave Filoni is quoted saying – The Clone Wars is about Ahsoka and Rex.

Who are they? That was my main wonder when I first started watching – why would I care about a random clone captain and a youngling? They are both not present in the movies, and the clones themselves have very little personality there, they are just side characters, until they end up executing Order 66, which is of course devastating. But after watching CW, I completely changed my outlook on it, but more on that later. So, Ahsoka and Rex – admittedly, in the beginning, I didn’t find that much since it’s just mainly classic Star Wars battles and a loose plot that is not absolutely VITAL to the end result but brings so much deeper insight into the clones’ personalities, and ultimately through that to the whole feel.

What I really find devastating about this series is the nagging feeling of doom you inevitably carry with you – you spend so many episodes and seasons watching your favourite characters win numerous battles, you root for them, you cry and laugh with them, you grow so attached to them; but you know how the story ends, you’ve seen Anakin become Vader, again you know about Order 66, you know the Empire rises after all and Palpatine’s plan works – and every time you hear someone say “you’re going to lose this war”, you hope for the opposite, but you know they’re right and there’s nothing to be done – evil wins in the end of this. And as I read somewhere – this is a story that happened a long time ago – it’s over, it has already happened, there is no hope, at least in this series, which I find frankly terrifying. Amazingly done, but still heartbreaking.

Clones, war, and choices

The point about choices and what it means to be a soldier gradually becomes more and more pronounced as the show goes on – one amazing example of this is the Umbara arc where the 501st is led not as usual by Anakin, but by Pong Krell (who later turns out to be a traitor of course). This is one of the darkest moments in the show, as clones are made to kill one another, to sacrifice themselves without reason, and for the first time to face an incompetent, and frankly evil general, and to choose to disobey. This is for me a crucial moment, as the clones have never before chosen to disobey direct orders – they were, after all, made to comply and to follow what their generals tell them to.

"I used to believe that being a good soldier meant doing everything they told you. That's how they engineered us. But we're not droids. We're not programmed. You have to learn to make your own decisions."

But here, we can see the conflict – especially in Rex, as he is the captain and has to face the general and answer for his deeds. He looks him directly in the eye and tells him they are not willing to go on a suicide mission, that they will not follow his orders, after he’s made them fight and kill their brothers unknowingly, and even ordered Fives and Jesse to be executed. However, Rex struggles with killing Krell, when he decides to; he orders him to kneel and points the blaster at his back but is unable to fire the shot. Once again, Star Wars proves that its plot has much deeper nuances and philosophies; for the first time here, we are faced with the harsh truth – the clones are people. We know that, but it somehow gets lost in the movies, as the focus there is on the Jedi’s end, which is just as tragic, of course. But before now, no one has considered what it really means to be a clone. They were made for war, they were made to die, their lives and their deaths were planned. Are the Jedi and the Republic, in that case, really the “good” side? That’s what I, at least, started to reflect on when I reached this point in the series, and it changed my whole outlook on the saga, on everything I have seen thus far. Yes, I still think the Jedi are cool and whatnot – but did they not deserve what happened to them for so blindly exploiting their soldiers? They didn’t know about Order 66 of course, and Palpatine is in no way right – but how come the Jedi are innocent in this? I don’t think they are, at least not fully. They could’ve stopped so much suffering and helped so many more clones, if not for their narrow views, which are all the reason for the clones’ suffering, Ahsoka’s leaving and consequently, Anakin’s betrayal.

"Sometimes in war, it's hard to be the one that survives."

Oh, Cody, Co-dy! The friendship the clones and in this case – Rex and Cody – share is truly precious and very accentuated in this arc especially (here the first arc of the last season) – it is Cody who Rex confides in about not wanting to lose any more brothers, as he knows he is one of the few ones who will understand him fully, what it means to be a soldier, to have to live with the morals of war, to have never known anything but loss. This is what makes Rex dive and slightly recklessly (thank God) search for Echo, proving that he’s alive, saving him from the tortures. They are brothers, and they never leave their own behind. But he is not possessive or jealous, and when he senses Echo’s pull towards Clone Force 99, he is ready to give him the push he needs to join them. He knows his brothers, as I said, and he knows the trials of war, so if Echo will feel even an ounce happier with this squad, he deserves it, after all he’s endured – “If that’s where you feel your place is, then that's where you belong."

Therefore, I love the Skako Minor arc and Echo’s retrieval, not only because it sets up the ground for The Bad Batch (I’m not even going to begin trying to explain what it means to me, as it deserves to have another huge debate on its own), but because it shows Rex’s devotion to his brothers – all of them. Even though he tries to be just a soldier, to live through the deaths, he still cares immensely, and that’s what makes him a good captain. His bravery is unmatched, he is always the one leading his men, and looking out for them, because he knows his men, he stands and fights side by side with them, and he’s ready to die on the battlefield, thus setting the example for everyone.

The philosophy of war is extremely complicated – this is what I enjoyed so much about the series (and the movies of course, politics and war is the main theme), among all other things; the fact that we see war as destroying, as a necessary evil, as a tragedy by itself – but war also created life in this case and its ending brought much more death than any of the battles ever did.

"The mission... the nightmares. They're finally... over."

I’m sorry, but I think I have never witnessed anything as remotely tragic as Fives’ arc – Palpatine told only him the whole truth, fully knowing no one would believe the clone hasn’t lost his mind; but the sacrifice the trooper made ultimately saved so many lives, mostly Rex’s, one of his closest friends. Fives never got to reunite with Echo but losing him made Rex realise how important every brother is to him, and in consequence, he never gave up on any of them (not that he was inclined to do so before of course). In his last sane moment, Rex begged Ahsoka to “find Fives”, and she understood. She knew the clones better than anyone and knew exactly what that meant and never doubted it for a second. Fives saved her life, too.

Fives’ arc is the first time the show begins to become darker and more sombre – it is also the point when we as spectators begin to realize what Order 66 actually means, having seen before only its results; but this time we see its execution, through the eyes of the clones themselves. They are forced to kill all Jedi, after being their most loyal soldiers, and honestly – incredibly loyal friends as well. They can’t control it and it’s not their choice – but that doesn’t mean they don’t realize what they’re doing – Rex said he couldn’t help it; Wrecker said he tried to fight it (The Bad Batch); Bly shot Aayla so many times, so she wouldn’t suffer and her death would be quick; Cody didn’t even check if Obi-Wan was dead; Wolffe didn’t kill Plo Koon. They were people, they were made to do inhumane things, but they found a way, they made a choice, so that they could somehow live with it after.

We get all of this through the clones’ perspective, rather than the Jedi, and it’s just as painful, if not more – we are used to hearing “the army betrayed its generals”, but what happens when we realise, they couldn’t do anything about it? What happens when we see the struggle, when we can almost feel the pain of having to betray? The clones, the most loyal creatures ever created, made for loyalty, have to turn on their generals, on their comrades, on their closest friends.

So, I come back to Ahsoka and Rex. We see them in the very first moment of the show, and they have already formed a bond, which is unlike anything else. They fight side by side the whole war – from the battle of Christophsis to the Siege of Mandalore – and Dave Filoni is truly right when he says this show is about them; but I think also in a broader sense. It is about two creatures who were destined to fight all their lives, who no matter their completely opposite backgrounds, turned out to be the same things – soldiers. Through and through, in their own ways. Their friendship transcends beyond all of this, they have a unique connection, that’s never shaken, even in the direst of moments; even years later, when they meet (in Rebels), you can feel their love for one another, the purest friendship there ever was, somehow ironically created by the ugliness of war and constant fight. Both Rex and Ahsoka suffered losses we cannot imagine – Rex says he tries not to hold on to any of his brothers, and Ahsoka is a Jedi, so it is forbidden for her to form such attachments; but we know. We see it in their eyes, we can hear it when they speak. Rex can never forget Fives’ death and the fact that he died thinking no one believed him; he ran to Skako Minor in an instant even though it might have been a trap, but the chance to save Echo was not one he was going to miss out on this time. And he saved his brother, against all odds. And he saved Ahsoka, as she saved him, time and again. Because that's what brothers do.

“I’m no Jedi” – an interesting phrase for Ahsoka and Rex to have in common, given how different both their roles and backgrounds seem to be, but it is indeed the one they unexpectedly share. Spoken first by Rex here, and then a lot later by Ahsoka in Rebels, it is highly unprovable that it’s on purpose. However, I don’t think anything in Star Wars is done without a reason, so I choose to believe there is some thread connecting them – after all it is Rex and Ahsoka, and that will always matter. What it means for both of them is simultaneously the same, yet different – Rex is the clone closest to the Jedi, there is no doubt about this; he’s used to their ways, he has as equally as strong a moral code, so it is somehow thinly implied that he acts similar to them, despite (or thanks to) being one of the strongest and most respected clone leaders. His closeness to both his general and commander is widely known, so no one seems to pay attention to the fact that he is actually a clone, as he makes his own decisions, and often chooses to fight where a Jedi would opt to step back.

Ahsoka and Anakin

For me Ahsoka became the best character in the whole saga, no ounce of doubt, sorry. She is the embodiment of the Force, she is fierce, loyal, but also incredibly wise for someone her age, and someone who is still learning. On many an occasion, she proves to be more experienced than Anakin (and in my book, experience outranks everything) and I feel like he’s learned as much from her as she did from him – if not more. She is the one keeping him sane and grounded, and I’m a firm believer that had she not left the order, he wouldn’t turn. Ahsoka’s presence brings so many new layers to Anakin’s character, that have not been explored before that and had she stood by him, he wouldn’t be able to become what he became. So, yes – ultimately, I blame the Jedi order for Anakin’s betrayal, I always have, but after watching this series, and seeing it from another point of view, I simply cannot be shaken. They took everything from him and left him alone, which has always been his weakest – he has always been this little child, terrified by the dark, later consumed by it, now unable to fight it anymore. The Jedi made him, and they unmade him too. In my opinion, he shouldn’t have ever been a Jedi in the first place – he is not like Obi-Wan, not like Yoda, not even like Ahsoka (who is not the traditional Jedi either, being trained by him) – he is so powerful and so weak at the same time, and that’s where his dilemma lays – who am I? Which side am I on? He doesn’t know, but no one is there to help him – Ahsoka included, as she (rightfully so!) leaves the order when she sees the truth about it. But she carries that guilt ever since.

She blames herself for leaving Anakin, she blames herself for not fighting alongside him when he needed it; for leaving her friend, her brother. If I were Ahsoka, I would have done the same – she was betrayed by the Jedi, not by Anakin, not ever, but still. He stood with the Order when she needed him by her side. And that is what destroys him too. The loss of his padawan, his most loyal friend is unlike anything else, and for her, leaving this life that’s all she’s ever known, transforms her view on everything. And when she inevitably returns, because that’s where she is supposed to be in order for the prophecy to happen – she must be there, but not by Anakin’s side; she doesn’t fit anywhere else, but she doesn’t fit there anymore either; and she can’t follow him, so she’s sent to Mandalore, again alongside the clones, her brothers, she goes down fighting with Rex. She’s always been his sister more than a Jedi; she didn’t ever belong anywhere else but on a battlefield. She may not be a clone, and she wasn’t meant to be a soldier either; but just like the clones, the war is all she’s ever known, and even though she was meant to be a peacekeeper, peace was something she never knew, especially after Anakin’s turn to the Dark side – even though there is no longer a war, she is forever tormented by the voices she heard in his last moments as her beloved master and the pain she felt when he left.

She knew it was over in that moment – Order 66 is by far the most heartbreaking arc of them all and I can never watch it without then spending weeks thinking about it – it’s genius, really, how Palpatine had this evil plan, dictated the whole war without anyone noticing; and it worked. It worked and changed the whole entire galaxy, and nothing could have prevented it – except maybe Anakin turning; and that is what Ahsoka can’t get over; she feels it is somehow partially her fault that the dark won; if only she hadn’t left, it haunts her forever. She doesn’t know Anakin is Vader, not until she meets him after, so she thinks he’s dead like the rest of the Jedi – and when she finds out what truly happened to him, she passes out (in Rebels; another terrific moment) because the pain is just too strong – the mixture of his known presence in the Force, and his new persona, that is torn from pain and suffering, feelings so intense and unknown to her she can’t understand them. It’s not her master, but it is undeniably Anakin. And he feels abandoned, he feels alone, he is guilty and sad and in constant pain, he is no longer there, not really, but then – he is. And the memory of what he once was, what he promised, everything he taught his padawan brings such pain for Ahsoka.

She may not think she is truly a Jedi, yet she is for me the only one of them I came to respect – she is never hypocritical, doesn’t leave anyone behind, not ever, and she fights for good, always for what she deems right, never feeling like she has to change for others, but in the end always blaming herself for their fate. She could never forgive herself for what happened to Anakin, and she can never forget her brothers, the clones, she suffers and grieves for every one of them, she knows their names, they were her whole world. And the only thing she had left, because they never judged and never tried to change her, they simply stood by her. Even when they had orders to kill her.

Rex and Order 66

Ahsoka’s master was gone from that moment on, and all she had left was Rex. The other main character, and I accept no objections to that statement. Rex is... the best one ever. He is, without any doubt, my favourite from this series. Putting aside my Ahsoka obsession, I didn’t expect to grow as attached to him as I did. Then again, I can’t separate them – for me, they are a team, the best one, and I don’t think I would have liked them as much had they not been the amazing pair they are. The connection between Rex and Ahsoka is what makes this series so different and so much better than the movies for me. It shows a level of true depth and caring that we haven’t really seen before – the type of platonic trust that few people find in their real lives. If I get to have just one friend that is as loyal, I don’t think I’d need anything more. Their story is so real, so touching and beautiful and sad – I think it is not only the best one in the series, but in the whole saga, and in any storyworld, really, for me personally. They meet a kid and a soldier, but they leave the war (or maybe the war leaves them) as equals, friends bound by experiences so unique and traumatic that they can never forget them, their bond can never be destroyed. They are soulmates, and they are forever. I don’t make the rules, sorry.

"Well, I've known no other way. Gives us clones all a mixed feeling about the war. Many people wish it had never happened, but without it, we wouldn't exist.”

Rex says this to Ahsoka moments before he is forced to execute Order 66 and it makes me shudder every time I hear it. Knowing what follows, knowing that the clones that have been created for war, are humans with so much more nuanced feelings that they let themselves express, that they fear the war ending as much as others might feel a war beginning is incredibly twisted. They are not machines, they are much more than that, they have feelings, and they have morals, and they are afraid. Rex has never doubted his loyalty to his commanders, and never gave any reason to be doubted – never hesitated, never showed anything less than immense courage and skill. But now he stands before the only person he’s never been able to deceive, and he voices for the first time what probably has been torturing him for a while – the knowledge that he is expendable, that his life might be over, and that this might be what he’s always fought for – the end of himself and his brothers. Victory and death, indeed.

Viewers have witnessed many a clone death, and these last episodes are the culmination of it all – from that point on, every favourite character is in danger. Of themselves. One thing that the series does marvellously is bring personality to so many seemingly identical characters – in the movies we never get any detail about their lives, their characteristics, even their looks – but now I could recognize Fives from Echo in a second; they might have the same features and the same voice, but they are not the same. They are brothers, forged by the same essence, they share the same blood and the same heart, but they are individuals with thoughts and passions so diverse it’s impossible not to notice, not to adore.

Rex is Ahsoka’s best friend, as she reassures him moments before everything went to hell. He is the man who stood and fought by her side, and who watched her grow up. Who, when faced with the order to kill her, removes and drops his helmet in a desperate try to fight Order 66 (perhaps unconsciously, as he is being mind-controlled), and so she could see his eyes, see his tears, his struggle, his shaking, and know that he had no choice, know that on some level, he is asking for help for the first time ever, the soldier he is – he removes his helmet so he could look her in the eyes, his best friend, his sister, his commander; and she knows.

She’d ran to him, when sensing there was something wrong – of course, Ahsoka would run to Rex, because he’s Rex, he’ll know exactly what to say and what to do, and maybe he could contact somebody who can fix this; this can’t be real, the war is almost over; she’s still a child after all, she can’t face this now, not alone, not without Rex. She’s never had to face anything without Rex, it’s just unimaginable – but she runs to him and in his eyes she sees someone who is not Rex at all, and suddenly all the men she trusted with her life more times than she can count, are not the men she knows, and they want to hurt her, and Rex wants to hurt her, even though it makes him suffer. She sees his tears; she feels in him what she never believed she would.

The parallels in their relationship are just amazing – one of their first interactions is when Rex says to her “good luck, kid” on their first ever mission together – and it shows just how much he already cares for her, how he understands that beneath all her witty remarks and wish to prove herself to her new master (and his soldiers!), she is still a kid thrown on a battlefield – an unnatural atmosphere for anyone, but especially for a young child with no experience whatsoever. From then on, they just keep getting closer and their friendship grows stronger until it reaches a point where they can understand each other without even speaking.

“Yeah, kid, I’m okay”, Rex says, moments after Ahsoka has removed his inhibitor chip and essentially saved both their lives, all while putting herself at a great risk, just because she cares and she can’t do this on her own. In this moment, in his eyes, she is again the kid he first saw, scared about her friend, trying to prove that she can do it all on her own – this parallel is so important to me; she has never been in such a situation alone before, because she’s always had Rex, and now she’d almost lost him, after just reuniting with him; when for a split second there was something in his eyes that she’d never seen before, the only thing that saved her was Anakin and Rex’s training (shown in Tales of the Jedi). Anakin taught her how to fight enemies much stronger than herself, her brothers taught her how to defend herself, not knowing that she’d ever have to, especially not against them. It’s truly heartbreaking.

“Ahsoka, it’s all of us” – just seconds after she has saved him, Rex looks her in the eyes and apologizes for almost doing the undoable, for almost killing her, for being okay when she almost wasn’t. How would he ever live with himself, knowing that he betrayed his best friend? The animation has developed so much by this point, that in this last episode, it’s almost like watching real people acting, at least that’s how I’ve always felt; it feels real, the emotion is just so intense and so palpable – especially with this being the first time Rex says her name. She is his friend, she is the only one who cared enough to save him, thus saving herself, proving again and again her loyalty, the thing they have most in common. They understand each other like no one else can, they have been through everything together, and now, in these crucial moments, they have both proven it – she never gave up on him, she trusted him enough to save him, and in return, he is ready to follow her anywhere and die protecting her. From his own men. Barely awake, he’d reached for his blasters, shooting his own brothers to protect her, not even fully conscious yet. They are equal, they have become one through the Force, and if it wasn’t clear before, it is now – they are sticking together to the very end, no matter what they must do, no matter how. They are forever. Loyalty means everything to the clones.

This and what follows on the bridge of the ship as it’s coming down, are my favourite scenes from the series.

“I hate to tell you this, but they don’t care! This ship is going down, and those soldiers, my brothers are willing to die and take you and me along with them!”

Even though it’s animated, even though you can’t see his face, and the only thing is his desperate voice, you can feel the devastation when Rex utters these words, touching his chest, as he says “brothers” – he has always cared for them, his family, and has mourned every single loss, but now, when there is no other choice, he knows protecting Ahsoka is the most important thing there is – the mind-controlled clones can’t tell apart their own from a traitor, so what’s the point?

There is always a right choice – and Ahsoka proves it, when she gently removes his helmet, only to show what everyone but also no one suspected – Rex is crying, he is afraid and in pain, and she is the only thing he cares about. He’s lost so much; he can’t lose her too. But she always has a plan, and she is probably the only one who cares about the clones as much as him; they don’t need to explain themselves; she doesn’t want to be the one who is responsible for so much death; there’s been too much already. They have lived a life of war, facing death and loss every single day, and enough is enough. She wants to live, but not at the cost of murder. There is no doubt in her voice when she says that.

Burying brothers

What follows is truly devastating to watch – Rex facing his brothers, as a traitor in their eyes, as some of them stand before him, still wearing their helmets with Ahsoka’s Togruta design on them, the colours of the 501st closely resembling her lekku. They’d painted their armour as soon as they knew Ahsoka was coming back to them and they were getting their commander, and little sister back, their best friend, the only one who cares enough to remember all their names, who never turned her back on them, even now, when they are against her, she still tries to save as many of them as possible; she’s been the one whose hand they’ve reached to when dying, their last memory on this world her face, her bright eyes, full of life and care, her presence calming them in the face of the inevitable, as she will have to do now as fell, at the very end.

How must it feel to lose everything you’ve fought and hoped for, in a span of hours? Palpatine’s plan is truly ingenious. The war might have ended, but only on the outside; a much larger, much more painful fight has begun, inside, for Rex and Ahsoka, who now have to navigate a life they haven’t ever considered; they may have wondered what life after the war might be like, but not like this, never like this; not as heroes, not even as fighters – as traitors in the eyes of their most beloved brothers and the new control of the Empire. But they choose to fight until the end, crashing down, falling with the cruiser together, hand in hand; the parallel of them hanging on to each other in the hanger is precisely mirroring the moment of Anakin and Obi-Wan trying to push each other away during their legendary fight on Mustafar, which is happening at the exact same time. But these two don’t let go, they simply cannot face losing each other, not now, not after all of this. They’ve fought for years, so many battles, losing track of what the fights are about – but this last one is clear; they are fighting for each other. And when they are the only survivors, they take to bury their brothers, and grieve the colossal loss side by side, silently watching, because there aren’t words to describe what they feel, and it’s not necessary, so they don’t speak. They know.

"I don’t want to bury any more of our brothers."

The devastation and sheer exasperation we hear in Rex’s voice when he says this much later, in The Bad Batch, when talking about the inhibitor chips nonetheless, is all we’ll ever need to know about him. Laying low after the end of the war, separating from Ahsoka, believed to be dead; in fact – being dead to the world in every sense, this is the choice he makes. He’s witnessed almost all his closest friends dying, he’s lost his general, he doesn’t have a purpose and a goal anymore; he has to deal with the realization that the war is over, but it ended at way too high a price, and he’s a soldier – he will fight every day, until the end, because it’s all he knows. He’s the most loyal soldier, survived Order 66 at the highest price there could ever be, and he can’t lose more. He wants to keep fighting, and he will, but not to lose. Rex doesn’t want to feel this awful feeling of loss, not ever again.

The same goes for Ahsoka – even though she quits the order and never officially finishes her training, the Jedi life is the only one she’s ever known, so her path even after leaving, after the war ends, and after she separates from Rex, is one lead by the code to a large extent, even if done so unconsciously. She claims to not be a Jedi when she faces her master as Vader in Rebels, wanting to avenge him; but she doesn’t end up doing it, she can’t possibly kill Anakin. So, she goes on, living in this middle ground – she is not truly a Jedi, but what else could she be? She has led her troops in many battles, fought by their side; even when they didn’t have to, they still called her commander, as loyal to her as ever; recognizing that she stood by them, even held them as they died.

When The Resolute crashes after Order 66, we are aware that her and Rex took every single one of their fallen brothers, buried them, and displayed their helmets, putting Jesse at the very front, the one who’d wanted to kill them the most at the end. But they know better, it was not him, not after literal moments before that he almost went insane from Maul’s questioning because he didn’t want to betray Ahsoka; he deserved a recognition, even in death. Every single one of them did, and Rex and Ahsoka gave it to them. She lets go now of her lightsaber, the Jedi weapon that bears her identity, and lays it to rest next to the fallen soldiers, because she doesn’t want to have any more connections to this war, there’s been enough fighting. She dies here too – for what it’s worth, she fell with the clones. I can’t imagine how traumatising and terrible it felt, pulling body after body out of the debris. For both of them.

Brother after brother.

***

No matter what I say, or how much I write, I don’t think I will ever be able to express properly what this world and this series in particular mean to me. Of course I love all things Star Wars, but The Clone Wars will always hold a very special and exceptional place among them. It is a unique feeling, one I cannot put a word on, it feels too big for me, as if there is some kind of a boundary that is at the verge of explosion, it’s holding so much emotion, and there isn’t enough space for it inside. Perhaps it’s the depth and the exploration of the clones, their relationships, the empathy their lives evoke – creatures bred for war, individuals barely recognized in life. But still human, as Rex and Ahsoka remind us of the entire time – especially when we see them watching the arranged helmets of their dead brothers – the clones have not been just pawns, they are people; people who died for a cause they couldn’t have any say in. Their lives were not their own; but Ahsoka’s life wasn’t her own either. This is the tragedy of The Clone Wars, but there’s also an ironic beauty about it – Ahsoka wouldn’t have had her master or her best friend, if it wasn’t for the war. It’s a story about the philosophy of choice, hope, good and evil of course, friendship and loyalty. Victory and its highest cost, death; the consequences after a life spent fighting, which no one usually thinks about.

When the final shot rolls and we see Vader’s ominous figure step on to the same place where Ahsoka and Rex were last, as he digs his apprentice’s lightsaber and holds it, we realize what the moral of the story is. We see Anakin’s eyes behind Vader’s mask, and we feel the cold he feels – he ended up alone after all, after all his trying, he had an army, he led troopers, he cared for an apprentice, but he lost them all. He won the war, but he would rather have died with his friends – who he doesn’t know are still alive, and they don’t know what happened to him either; instead of being their enemy. But the time for choosing is over, and there is no going back for him now.

His reflection hits the clone helmet, and we see the image of Anakin, walking away from Ahsoka and Rex.

It doesn’t end with the war; it begins with it.