#this is not meant to be mean or ill intentioned toward anyone

[all-thestories-aretrue]

There are many jokes floating around the shadowgast nation about the nature of Caleb and Essek's relationship (eggplants and winky faces abound), and most of them are good natured and perhaps true (eventually or at some point). I find most of them entertaining and sweet, but some of what I have stumbled across post-reunion have highlighted that it's only a joke up to a certain point to me.

Please keep in mind that everything in this post is my opinion and my opinion only. I'm not asking that anyone agree with me. This post is mainly for me because I felt like I needed to make it.

I have seen several comments/posts/tags in many different places talking about Essek and Caleb and that scene in the reunion, and describing it as horny or saying they can't keep their hands off each other or following up that conversation with sexual intimacy. I know a lot of these comments or conversations are not malicious or ill-intentioned, and I understand that people are excited for the first new content in nearly 2 years.

But, one thing I have appreciated about Critical Role is the variety of sexuality and genders represented, including various asexual and aromantic identities. Essek is confirmed by Matt on Twitter to be demi (romantic or sexual is unclear to me so it could be taken as either. If anyone has any other sources I would greatly appreciate them). As someone who identifies as aspec, I deeply appreciate the representation that Critical Role has given me.

The shadowgast scene in the reunion was not sexual to me. It's only been six months since the end of c2, which granted, I have not completed yet. As of this writing, I am in the middle of episode 133. Whatever is going on between Caleb and Essek is still very new, especially for two people who thought they would never have love. An aspect of being demi is that it takes time and closenes and a strong emotional bond for romantic and/or sexual feelings to develop. Six months, to me, feels like an incredibly short time for those feelings to take root for Essek even if he is on the path of developing them.

Seeing people make light of Essek's sexual attraction or feelings for Caleb or treat them as common place or casual, even innocuously, has made me feel as though this aspect of Essek really is ignored or forgotten about sometimes. Not by everyone nor, I would even doubt, the majority. Maybe not intentionally or maliciously or maybe it's a lack of understanding about demisexuality or aspec identities.

This is a feeling I have had for a while, and I mean this about nothing in particular but rather a sum of the parts I have encountered over the months.

In addition, I think Essek's sexuality can be overshadowed by how sexual Caleb can be/is. He makes comments throughout the entirety of the campaign that directly or indirectly reveal his sexuality, and that part is clearly important to him, even if he has not acted on it in a very long time.

I am not saying that Essek is NOT sexually attracted to Caleb or that their relationship does not involve sex at some point or at the time of that scene. I do think, at the very least, that Caleb and Essek would have a conversation about it as some point, and I find it likely it would turn sexual. At the very least, Caleb is attracted to Essek. Liam has confirmed that. I would guess those feelings are a combination of romantic, sexual, platonic, etc.

But I cannot imagine, and again this is my opinion, that feeling sexual attraction or acting on it for the perhaps first or second, maybe third time, is not a life-altering moment for him, let alone acting on it. From what see of his character, he's extrmely gaurded, extremely lonely, extremely shameful. Showing his emotions and attraction to Caleb, or to anyone really, is an extreme show of trust and vulnerability, and I don't think it should be taken lightly.

Treating it, at least in those early months, as though it is common or casual, something taken for granted, feels, to me, as though it undermines the importance and gravity of Essek's feelings, whatever they may be. Further, it undermines aspec identities, relegating them to sidelines if it is even acknowledged at all. I feel as though a lot of the jokes ignore Essek's demisexuality and how integral it is to how he builds relationships and interacts with people.

As someone who is aspec, I find it disheartening to see these sort of jokes and offhand comments being circulated about a character who is confirmed, canon aspec whose identity centers on deep bonds that take time to develop. Applying sexual under/overtones to scene where a small chaste kiss and an innocent pet name are shared feels like, in a way, a forced sexualization of a new, developing relationship that may never turn sexual.

There is such little aspec representation in media, and Critical Role does a fantastic job of showcasing a variety of aspec identities which is so, so rare. To turn around and have the fandom ignore or disregard these identities (intentional or not) that the cast and crew work hard to incorporate feels bad. It makes me feel as though I still have to fight for my identity to be seen and understood by people who, theoretically, support and want to understand and respect various identities, who claim to love Essek and Caleb and their relationship. It hurts.

I have spent a lot of time convincing myself that I and my sexuality belong in the queer community, that I deserve to have a voice, that I deserve to be respected and heard. With my feelings about Essek and his demisexuality, I didn't feel right standing by any longer and remaining silent when these portrayals were bothering me.

I am not asking anyone to change their opinions, to agree with me, to change the fic they write, the art they draw. The Critical Role fandom is beautiful and amazing and absolutely incredible. I have met so many kind, caring, wonderful people since joining. It's an experience unlike any other. But, I needed to make this post for me and anyone else who was feeling like me.

[ma1dita]

when the curtains close

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 5.3k

summary: (post-tlt) The one where you lose two people in the Labyrinth that day. All strings are cut. (Pollux, Annabeth, Percy, and Mr. D find out the biggest difference between you and Luke.) (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader)

a/n: yeah to me this fic sounds and feels like that tiktok of the girl humming to her microwave. split povs: pollux, annabeth, your depictions of the titular battle of the labyrinth at CHB, some blood/gore, death & grief. the usual. you forced me to by lizzy mcalpine. references to cat on a hot tin roof by tennessee williams if you squint

(posted 5/14/24)

—

The first time Pollux has a panic attack, time seems to stop and the world keeps moving on without him.

He’s reminded of a time when you rambled on about how anxiety takes possession of the senses like a moment frozen in a snapshot meant for you to identify. In the memory, you had your feet kicked up on the dash flipping through a DSM-5 while he and Castor took turns speeding up and down Farm Road (totally normal older sister behavior from you, and when a cop pulled you over, the three of you narrowly escaped a ticket by talking in riddles and godly smoke that smelled like grapes). Pollux still remembers the sound of laughter in the car blending like three different chords to an archaic melody (or squawking crows in the strawberry fields)— the bond between you three laid out before time knew limits and was always meant to be.

It’s still his favorite song. You’re their favorite (and only) sister, they love to joke. These are facts that will never change.

“You two have each other, and well, I’ve got this,” you had said, the Zippo flicking open and closed against your thumb in the blossoming darkness of the car. Pink and purple rays of waning light blanketed the old hatchback as it steadily made its way back towards Half-Blood Hill, comfortable silence shared in the way only siblings can stand to be quiet—when there are no words needed to get a point across. But you’ve always set yourself apart from the pack, not needing anyone like how they need each other.

Not since Luke left, at least. The growing distance between you three since your untimely resignation from camp was proof enough. Pollux’s eyes met Castor’s in the rearview mirror as they both noticed your sad smile. His brother’s voice broke through the silence then, having always been the one blunt enough to say what was on his mind, “You’ve got us too if you let us see you more often.” Your fidgeting stops.

“It’s not you two, it’s just hard to be back here sometimes. I see things for what they used to be instead of how they really are now. Now it’s just… it has to be all business.”

Pollux cracked a smile, “S’what you get for growing up. Soon we’ll just be annoying voices in your head like you are to us.” Shutting your textbook, you turned to look at them from the passenger seat, eyes that match theirs darting between their blond heads, “All of us have to grow up eventually. Except maybe you two— I prefer you in my nightmares like the kids from The Shining. Whenever you get sick of Dad, come see me. Gods know that camp deserves a break from the two of you too.” Your knuckles knocked against both of their heads affectionately as he put the car in park, “My built-in bodyguards, huh? Always looking out for me.”

All words and meaning escape Pollux now as he stands in the greenery of the North Woods with battle gear ill-fitted to his large frame. It’s the first siege he’s ever taken part in, the first time he’s had to use battle strategies outside of Capture the Flag and the first time he’s slashed his way through monsters and demigods with the intent to try and kill or be killed. Sword and Shield could have never prepared any of them for this—as his eyes meet Castor’s and then yours with all of you thinking the same thing, the three of you join the sea of iridescent orange through mind-numbing black moving like a sharp three-pronged sword.

This type of stuff isn’t typical for him, he thinks. He and Castor are used to being comedic relief— being the source of laughs and juice boxes for pesky little campers instead of facing the real world outside the boundaries of the Mist. Perhaps your father babied them to make up for the time he lost with you, but there’s a moment where he wonders how being kept soft will keep him alive in a world as harsh as this one.

Childlike innocence is ripped away from them in the bubble they’ve inhabited until this moment. Home is now a warzone and like lambs set up for slaughter, the twins both turn to look at you as a shuddering gasp leaves your mouth at the carnage in your surroundings, monster blood and fallen friends and enemies at your feet. Breaking away from formation to take a deep breath, he looks at the sky and wonders where your father is, but smoke and soot fill his lungs and he coughs desperately for a breath of fresh air.

Pollux thinks he must have stopped breathing before Castor took his last breath. It wasn’t supposed to be a competition, but sometimes life was just funny like that.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

Just like you told him.

Castor was always the more manic one while Pollux knew how to endure. Children of Dionysus are forced to befriend insanity before it makes an enemy out of them—twisting the ugly into what’s real and creating something beautiful out of the deranged. You’ve shown the boys how you detach from emotion by recognizing the details—separating fact and fiction, a methodical process only describable by the blood that runs through your veins. Pollux doesn’t know where to start—everything happens so fast but it plays out in front of him like someone put the pieces together to a stop-motion animation.

He sees Castor’s sword fall to the ground when he gets slashed on the forearm and sees him get clubbed over the head with a metal weapon he’s only seen bad renditions forged for theater practices and hanging on the walls of the armory. Castor falls first to his knees, and then into the dirt with a thud. He never knew there could be that much blood coming out of a person, much less a mirror image of himself. Pollux sees your face come into his line of vision, deep maroon splatters on your face glittering with hints of ichor and then you’re moving because he can’t. The enemy is coming back for him now, and for a moment he wonders if Castor will be mad if he lets him. He sees you turn in an instant, swinging your sword down on the neck of the aggressor, a teenager not much older than he and his brother are—were. It’s funny how his brain immediately makes the switch to past tense, and how he can’t stop thinking about how he’ll now and forever be older than his twin. Pollux then sees you catch the body of the boy you just killed as life seeps out of him slower than it did for Castor.

It doesn’t make him feel any better, though.

His knees hit the ground next to his twin, touching the sludge of dirt soft like quicksand and moist with what he hopes is not blood, but Pollux is not quite sure of what else there is to hope for. His fist is wrapped around Castor’s shirtsleeve, touching faded orange and sweat as he holds on for dear life. Maybe if he tries hard enough his soul will still be intertwined with his. Your hand touches his shoulder, five fingers reaching out to brush the back of his neck and the feeling of your skin helps him refocus a bit, even if you’re saying something he can’t make out. Then the metal of your Zippo lighter feels cool to the touch within his palm and he knows what he needs to do.

The battle isn’t over, but for the three of you, everything stops here. There is no going forward without your brother. You were never meant to be children of war.

Pollux hears the sound of his heartbeat thundering through his ears, blood rushing through his veins and can’t help but notice the silence amid the chaos. There are no words fit for this—and even if there were, Castor and you were always the more talkative ones. He hears the spark of the purple flame between his fingers, blowing the smoke over him and his brother’s body, and their father’s powers blanket them like how you used to tuck them into bed, warm and safe. This is what your family is—unconventional and unending even in different realms of existence. And then Grover’s scream of panic echoes through the air and everyone hears that. Hysteria ensues as monsters and demigods alike run amok, and Pollux realizes he’s stopped shaking.

In his father’s domain, he will always find comfort.

You stand above him now directing campers calmly with a free hand—a brewing storm crackling underneath your skin that he now understands. Hidden by the illusion of smoke, Pollux’s tired bones rest alongside his brother’s dead ones— together as they always were meant to be.

The three of you together, his little family—that is a fact he hoped would never change.

The smell of grapes envelops him as he leans his forehead against your muddy leg… when did the battle end? It almost masks the scent of death that rips through the air as your hand brushes through his sandy hair. Pollux stinks of sweat and you stifle a laugh as you see him smell his armpit. You three were always the same type of fucked up. He doesn’t look down at Castor laid across his lap but knows he would’ve found it funny too. Ignorance of reality even for a moment serves as a comfort. Purple meets purple as he looks up at you with a smile that doesn’t fit his face anymore and he croaks, “Wonder what dad would say about our first battle…”

Glory was never meant to be this bittersweet—it tastes like blood in his mouth until he wipes it away from his cheek and realizes it’s Castor’s. In a way, it’s his too, everything about him and within him is exactly the same down to the star stuff the fates wove them from.

“I’ll be the one to tell him. You take care of Castor,” you answer, as if there’s anything else he would want to do and then he realizes you’re crying— and he’s seeing all of the pieces put together in front of him in this photograph in his mind.

Pollux blinks slowly.

Suddenly the image he has of you is more defined— there is new meaning to the sadness you could never shake off all these years, and he is too young to lose his greatest love, which makes him realize then that so were you.

How long does this have to go on? he wonders, grabbing onto your hand with an eagerness only comparable to the feeling he got when you and Luke whisked him and Castor away from Florida all those years ago. This punishment of living while half of his soul does not—what is he supposed to do next? This was supposed to be the safe place. There is nowhere left to run. His thumb rubs circles into the back of your shaking blood-soaked hand, a secret within the smoke.

Pollux thinks there will always be a part of him frozen in time now, a memory of this day hung up in his mind like a portrait as he holds Castor’s cold hand in his warm one.

—

Annabeth finds you in the middle of the strawberry fields before the sun sets. She knows you won’t be sleeping tonight, not if you can fight it— not when there’s so much to do. You’ve long grown out of your ripped-up and tie-dyed camp shirts, and the one slung on your frame is newly pressed and starchy from the storage room of the Big House, still stiff against your freshly washed skin. When she’s close enough to touch you, you’ve been scrubbed clean of today.

She doesn’t have to be a daughter of Athena to know that you know that she’s there even if you can’t see her, but for once she feels like she has to hide. For once, Annabeth Chase doesn’t know what to say. How can she explain the feeling of guilt that coils around her brain like barbed wire—how can she even begin to apologize for the thing wearing her brother’s skin, knowing that it killed yours? For once, her hubris is crushed by the sinking feeling of humiliation.

“Was your first quest all you thought it would be, Annie?”

As she takes her navy cap off, silver braided strands around her face wave in the wind as a reminder of what Luke put her through. Though as she looks at you now with your berry-stained fingers plucking at stems one by one instead of using your powers, she thinks that your mind is elsewhere—anywhere but here, where everything is a painful reminder of your five years as a camper.

Five years with Luke.

Mourning him isn’t a new feeling for either of you, even though he comes in and out of your lives like a poltergeist you want to bash across the head, just always out of reach. But he’s a constant, even when he’s not here and he’s what binds you two together as you huddle hidden away from the rest of camp.

“He did this for you.”

It’s not a question, more so a fact out of Annie’s mouth when you finally meet her eyes and sigh, “Luke’s always had a way going about things. The most stubborn man to ever live.” You toss another strawberry into the crate at your feet. No one’s working right now, trying to tend to the injured and the dead. Everyone’s doing their best to chase away the nightmares that are bound to come, and she knows you’ll be making rounds with her on the night shift to ease everyone’s anxieties. But there’s a thought so strong it makes her head hurt, bursting at the seams until she can’t stop with her last-ditch effort to fix her found family.

“Maybe if we find him, we can save—”

“He’s been out of time for a while now, Annabeth. We both knew that,” you say, voice firm and unwavering. You’ve never sounded so monotone before, and it hits her as her mouth falls agape, “You’re giving up on him? Why… why would you give up on him?” Anger courses through her veins like fire and she’s mad that she’s at the center of this prophecy, of Hermes’s anger for his doomed son who will love you until the ends of the earth.

And what of her?

What of the hope she has in happy endings, how is it that you’re so damn calm? Annabeth kicks at the crate, strawberries rolling out in different directions and your jaw tightens as you let her be petulant, let her scream and yell until her inner child can catch up with the reality of the world around you.

“How could you?”

Your name echoes as she repeats it, grabbing at your shoulders and she’s as desperate as the truth that shakes her when you cup her face in your hands and wipe her tears.

“You’ve carried the weight of the world Annabeth– you know what it feels like to let it go. It’s time to let him go. There’s nothing I can do or say to fix this.”

Then it hits her that you knew of his fate and yet this was still the outcome. There was nothing else to do but watch him be puppeteered by a Titan and have to fight evil while it wears his face.

“He came to you after he saw me, didn’t he? Why didn’t you tell me? Why don’t you love him anymore?”

Because it wouldn’t have changed a thing, your eyes say. Instead, you grimace as you say, “Wouldn’t that be funny if it were true?” You lean down and pick up the fallen berries, some bruised and covered in dirt, and then you look at her again with teary eyes.

“Some prophecy huh? To lose a love to worse than death. What could we have done besides love him until the end?”

“He’s still in there. I know you know that too. Don’t talk about him like he’s not,” Annabeth insists, and a sad smile settles upon your face. It’s as gentle as the kiss of the breeze on your cheeks.

“I lost a brother today, Annie.”

“Me too.”

—

The funny thing about planning funerals is that with all the fuss it takes to organize one, you still find extra time on your hands. Barely getting any sleep and dragging yourself out of your dad’s bed, Pollux snores loudly next to you after hours of working on Castor’s shroud. Sleep wasn’t expected for either of you, but being unconscious was the only way of giving your brains a reprieve. The both of you have been busy doubling down on the preparations, even if it means Mr. D won’t be back in time while he’s out rallying gods for war.

The faster Castor’s earthly body is reconnected with his soul, the easier his trip will be into the Underworld, Nico says, and it’s funny how comforting the little emo pipsqueak can be when it comes to matters of death.

Perhaps this is the solace you bring to others with things you’re able to control—keeping camp afloat is something you were always good at, and helping every traumatized child that comes up to you for a juice box or a lullaby eases the guilt that follows you. Walking around Camp Half-Blood for more than a weekend made you feel like a judge, jury, and executioner. Though most of the campers from almost five years ago have either aged out, defected, or died—the ones that remain still look at you like you’re trouble.

Perhaps you always will be.

You even found yourself with the time to pray to Hermes last night for your brother’s safe passage into the afterlife, though if he’s angry at Annabeth, he must hate you for letting Luke go. Dinner didn’t seem appetizing enough anyway, so your whole plate was tossed into the hearth. You hope he likes chicken and rice.

But if a god can’t fight fate, what did he expect you to do?

The Iris Message to your dad last night was difficult, to say the least. Pollux’s hands shook as he continued to paint grape vines onto the silk cloth and the both of you didn’t say anything when your father started to cry. He out of all of the gods knows what it’s like to be tested to the limits—to endure pain and it’s a gift you and your brother are grateful for in times like these. Watching the god display the human emotion that either of you couldn’t as freely made it more real though.

There was also the interesting predicament of Chris Rodriguez being locked up in the basement of the Big House. Replacing screaming fits with serenity was almost second nature, and your gentle hands were what got Clarisse to truly respect you again for the first time in years. You could hear her sneak downstairs and talk to him while he slept (and the look in her eyes when you’d greet her with a cup of coffee made it known to you that she finally understands what it means to love someone who’s lost—two demigod daughters filled with a lot of rage and hurt were more alike than they think).

So the morning of your little brother’s funeral, you found yourself on the shoreline of Canoe Lake, setting your Redbull against the post of the dock and looking out onto the water.

You needed to do something with your hands. In the past few days, if your fingers were not occupied by pen and paper, a guitar, supply crates, or anything else that was helpful to others and all the more distracting for you, it’s been so easy to pick at any little thing. Perhaps it was your subconscious trying to reflect the damage on the inside, but today, your nail polish was chipped beyond belief. A small price to pay to not lose it without a signature boyish smile to ease your worries and amber eyes that could help you escape from the routine.

Running camp was always easier back then with your runaway boy and his scarred cheek.

How pathetic.

Crouched over in the sand, you plucked stones and filled your pockets with them. They knocked against each other — weighing your pockets down as you walked closer to the dock. Swinging your feet off the side and chucking them into the water, you could barely achieve a ripple.

It’s so quiet that you end up wondering if the rocks in your pockets would weigh you down to the bottom of the lake. It must be nice down there, to exist away from everything.

Bubbles surface slowly in front of you, then Percy’s head bobs in the water as he squints at you through sunlight.

“You chucked a rock at my head!”

A smile tugs at your lips, almost indiscernible but definitely there, “I was trying to skip them. Didn’t know you were doing water tricks in there, kid.” His grin gleams like freshwater pearls, pulling himself up onto the dock as his hand clasps yours. Shaking his sopping hair, Percy’s gangly frame sits next to yours like a wet bag of sand—all wrinkly and misshapen and sprinkling you with lakewater.

“Maybe next time don’t pick rocks the size of your fist. How many have you got in there? Your aim is scarily accurate,” he laughs and you huff and shake your head when his hand sticks into your pocket and takes out a few smooth ones to roll around in his hand. You mirror him, watching him skip a few stones into the water that reach a good distance before sinking into the depths of the lake.

There’s something sad about feeling comfortable to trauma dump on the teenage son of Poseidon, but with the way he grabs your arm at your third unsuccessful toss of a rock, you can’t do anything else but sigh.

“Why didn’t any of you call me, Percy?”

He was waiting for this question—it’s been banging around in his head since the beginning of Annabeth’s quest, and perhaps her talk with you yesterday didn’t go as expected so once again he’s left with the difficult part.

Things happen to turn out pretty difficult for him a lot, he's noticed.

Many things could have been made easier in the past few weeks: Ariadne being your stepmother and her blessing to you would’ve made the Labyrinth easier to navigate, and having another demigod to fight alongside him instead of a mortal girl would’ve been a plus too. But he looks at you with ocean eyes and a smaller smile that reminds you of how he looked at you when you dropped him off in Montauk the summer you met him and quit your head counselor job.

“You’ve already made a lot of difficult decisions. We weren’t sure if…”

The rotten wood beneath you creaks under your shifting weight as you turn to him, tucking your legs underneath your bottom.

“Didn’t think I could handle it?”

He shakes his head, “The opposite, actually. Annabeth has this notion that you’re the only one that can save him. You know, back on my first quest I met Luke’s dad and he told me something…”

You swallow instead of answering. There’s no way Percy is giving you Hermes’s advice right now. Somehow this feels like karmic retribution after years of spiting that asshole, and what he tells you next is more of a sign that it must be true.

“He said, ‘Do you know what that feels like? To be so close to someone you love knowing neither of you has any choice but to keep hurting each other?’ I didn’t get it then, but I do now.”

“With Luke and his mom?” you ask, picking at the remaining slivers of varnish on your thumbnail.

“With you and Luke. I didn’t call you, because… why would I want to see you hurt after everything?” Percy says this like it’s something he would do for everyone.

Perhaps it is, but the knot that forms in your throat feels as heavy as the boulder you almost sunk into his skull. He’s tall enough to lean your head against now, and you don’t mind the water spots that will form along the side of your funeral outfit. The shape of him it leaves will remind you of the little brother you gained through so much loss.

“Plus he has a new girlfriend. Absolute horse of a girl,” he jokes. It slips over your head but you still giggle, “I could’ve taken her.”

“I know, that was Grover’s worry. You’re prettier anyway…” Percy pauses, and then clears his throat, “You’ve always taken care of this place, y’know? Even after….I just think someone ought to take care of you.”

Your shoulder bumps against his as you finally skip a rock. It only bounces across the water twice and you think Percy might have had something to do with it, but you’re not bothered by the help this time around.

—

You wake up in the dark of night to see your dad looming in the doorway to his office. With drool and a post-it stuck to your cheek, he comes over to ruffle your hair in amicable silence.

“Hard at work or hardly working?” he chuckles, leaning over your shoulder to scan over the paperwork sorted into piles for him to sign from his absence.

“Hm. You wish,” you scoff, leaning against your arm as you look at him. He’s not in his usual eyesore of attire, wearing a clean-pressed suit with his hair slightly slicked back.

“You look good. The meeting went okay?”

“Grover will be fine. The Council of Cloven Elders? Not so much. Neither are the gods ready to take sides. Putting out little fires everywhere as we speak.”

The wheels of the office chair roll as you swing your feet, and if you both listen closely enough you can hear Pollux snoring upstairs. Chiron loved the earplugs you gave him.

Your father’s face smooths out a bit at the sight of you and the sound of his son’s breathing upstairs and he asks, “Are you? Good?”

A shrug slides off your shoulders, “How does one be good in a world like this one?”

A startling scream echoes off the walls of the Big House, rattling the floorboards from below as your father grimaces.

The work is never done for you two.

“Don’t look at me like that. It was worse when he first came here.”

“Don’t doubt it,” he mumbles, brushing lint off your shirt before he notices you’re donning neon orange. “Didn’t do laundry, princess?”

“Pollux and I haven’t gone back to our cabin since... I can wake him up if you—”

Mr. D shakes his head and goes to toss his body onto the couch against the window, shutting his eyes and taking a deep breath.

“Dad? Do you think Chris is a bad person?”

A beat passes and you think he may have fallen asleep, but then his voice sounds like gravel scraping up his throat.

“I don’t think anyone can be bad, kid. I think it is more often that people get lost. What Rodriguez needs is someone to take hold of him gently, and hand his life back to him—you…Clarisse… that’s what we’re giving him.”

Now you’re silent, staring at the dust on his name placard at the edge of the desk.

“Do you think otherwise?”

He calls your name again, and you look up like you’re about to lie to him but don’t have the energy to.

“Princess, do you think you’re a bad person?”

He stands up and walks around to your side of the desk, sitting on the edge so you have to look at him.

“I killed someone. During the battle. Didn’t even think twice about it, slashed his neck as soon as Castor went down and…” you sniff. “I kill monsters, Dad, not children. How does that make me any different?”

The last time blood was on your hands like this it was Luke’s in the Garden of Hesperides. All these years later you ended up being right— the only person you vowed to get bloody for is Luke Castellan, and now in a twisted turn of fate, you’ve bloodied your hands because of him.

“Because you did it for your brother. There are no other explanations needed.”

He sees the exhaustion in your eyes, the drop in your shoulders, but your dad also sees the strength in your bones that spans generations and he knows you and Pollux are strong because you are both his.

“Humans believe in life everlasting—glory, as some call it, but they’re too focused on achieving it on earth instead of enjoying what life has to offer,” he scoffs, “Everyone has the guts to die, but no one has the guts to truly live. How sad.”

“His name was Rowan. Son of Hecate. I taught him how to whistle the summer I left. This is all my fault, Dad,” you say shakily as he comes near and pulls you into his side. He shushes you but you relent.

“Luke’s killing all these people to fulfill a promise he made for me. I’m just fucking disgusted with myself for being the cause of it all. What good life can I deserve when wherever I go I leave a trail of blood?”

Love and addiction must be so alike; to know that to be sober you can’t indulge in the vice ever again—not only does it hurt you, but others around you. But through the years you’ve always kept the taste of his name in your mouth, the feeling of his skin under your fingertips, and the knowledge of why he’s destroying the world so he can make you a better one. Insanity stems from fighting for so long that you embrace the pain; feeling something so intensely that when it consumes you you’re able to walk out the other side and wear it as armor.

Not everyone is hardwired to persevere.

There are moments like a night like these where it would be easy to give up. Instead, you pour two glasses of whiskey you’ve conjured and hand one to your dad. You both sip on your drinks slowly, embracing the crawling feeling of the burn.

“Liquor is one way out and death is another,” your dad sighs blissfully. He almost looks rejuvenated by the alcohol he knows he’ll hear about from Zeus later, but perhaps the death of his son is a good enough pardon.

“For some of us, we don’t have to think about the answer.”

Mr. D grabs a pen off the desk and starts signing papers to do something with his hands, and then you speak again, “I think I’d rather die for people I love,” and your dad’s attention whips to your blank face staring at the moon outside the window. “Instead of killing for them. I’ve never been a good soldier, Dad.”

Mr. D looks at you thoughtfully and wonders where all the time has gone that you sit there in front of him with more knowledge than him at your mortal age before saying, “You’re my daughter. You’re a fighter. Death is for chumps anyway.”

He lifts you by the arm to try to usher you up the stairs but you stay in his office chair swatting his hands away.

“Got work to do, you and I. Not getting rid of me until it’s done.”

“When are you going home?” he asks, pulling up a chair next to yours.

“I am home.”

You don’t look up from the papers you were filing, stubbornness leaking through your voice.

“If there is a war coming, I want to be home as much as I can. I’m finishing my last semester and I’ll be here before and after classes. You can’t stop me, dad.”

And he knows that too.

There is no such thing as leaving Camp Half-Blood for you.

Never for too long. Your love for it is scattered everywhere campers can see.

—

In all these years, you never believed I loved you. And I did. I did so much. I did love you. I even loved your hate and your hardness. - Tennessee Williams

[shiurkoma]

Take: chaotic evil Yehonatan, in which he knew David is meant to replace him and his father from the very start.

TLDR: Yehonatan is as, if not more likely to be the abuser in their relationship because it is plain unfair to overlook how humongous their power gap is, and he is abused enough to be at least a little unhinged in his noggins.

Warning: dead dove do not eat. Im going to entertain an idea where Yehonatan is definitely not a good person. If you have a problem with that, or have issue reading fictional underage abuse and emotional manipulation, please stop reading. Finally, nothing about this is meant to be serious interpretation of the original text, it's all plain headcanoning for fanfiction.

(For the record, i seriously do not consider David (even close to being) a morally good individual in any possible sense of the word. It doesn't make any of this ok tho)

Some fanfics i've seen paint the davinatan ship as a manipulative one, with david being the seducter that manipulates Yehonatan into simping for him, only to discard him after David achieved his goals. Even outside of fanfictions, i know of people who view Yehonatan as a tragic victim. While i appreciate David's more malicious side being acknowledged, and agree with it more than depicting them simply and benignly loving eachother(tho i appreciate that too), I can't help but think how both protrayal down plays just how utterly creepy yehonatan's part in the relationship is.

Like, Yehonatan, a middle aged man with wives and kids, went ahead and basically stripped in front of a teen the first night they met then gave him some really personal and valuable gifts. If thats not a red flag i don't know what is.

Yehonatan is someone you do not want to cross, maybe even more so than Saul.

It is easy to forget that, holding the title of eldest son and legal heir to the throne comes with immense pressure, responsibility and danger, and dealing with all that takes more than just a thick backbone. With a deranged father as king, people around him are constantly plotting to take the throne for themselves. All bets are off in the war for the throne, even if Yehonatan doesn't actually want to be king, his competitors (which includes but not limited to his entire family) wouldn't rest until he is dead. He isn't in a position where he can just back off: it isn't unheard of that princes and kings renounce their positions, retire, and end up getting assassinated or executed anyway. Because king or not, they are still legitimate heirs to the throne and therefore a potential threat.

Basically, Yehonatan lives in a situation where he simply cannot afford to show weakness or hesitation, not to his subordinates, not to his brothers, not to his father, not to anyone. What doesn't kill you makes you dangerous, and Yehonatan is deadly in that sense.

(But its not to say all that didn't take a toll on his mental wellbeing. Yehonatan has no business being mentally ok. He watched his father ascend to the throne, watched as Saul sunk further towards insanity, and had to endure his often psychotic abuse for years. I don't believe one bit that he isn't depressed and at least a little messed up, especially in a time where mental illnesses aren't even acknowledged yet.)

To sum it up, as a weathered crown prince, Yehonatan would logically be a person who is reasonably paranoid, moderately ruthless, extremely strong willed and more than competently intuitive about the motives and intentions of people around him.

David on the other hand (at the start of their relationship anyway) had no prior experience mingling with politics, no ties in the palace, was never regarded with importance by his father or brothers (meaning he had zero exposure and no one ever invested in him), young and inexperienced (meaning vulnerable to manipulation), stands no chance against Yehonatan if he were to play mind games on him.

David could pull an Esther on Yehonatan. But keep in mind Esther and a lot of other femme fatal spies in history had ties that helped pull strings from the outside, they are often not the master mind either. David had himself, and practically nothing else.

This is why Yehonatan helping him matters so much. Useing weak willed and easily manipulated individuals only works for you if you are already a powerful dictator. If you have absolutely nothing you need powerful allys.

The most straightforward option for dark Yehonatan is just to kick the creep element up ten notchs. David tries to seduce Yehonatan, then immediately realises he bit off more than he could chew: he is just too possessive to be controlled. Yehonatan in this scenario probably somewhat resembles that purple creep from Tokyo ghoul, entertaining while the shock value lasts, but after that it gets pretty shallow. I hate this approach tbh.

Or, him seeing David that day was Yehonatan's last straw(what i doodled basically). He stops giving a sh*t about everything, and thought since he is so "in love" he might as well groom and sodomize David. Its a petty way of getting back at God for making him fall for the boy, and for making his life miserable in general.

He uses his charms and presents himself as a saintly figure to appeal to David's more religious side, then proceeds to not only make sure that David is emotionally dependent on him(i won't elaborate how but its easier than you think), but also plans to make it so that if he dies it will f*ck David in the head. He enjoys this, because for once in his life he feels a "real" sense of control, albeit a twisted and perverted one.

(Maybe he will feel shame and regret eventually, but thats another talk for another day.)

I'll borrow my friend's comment to sum up the take: "a broken abused individual perpetuating a cycle of abuse to an ambitions sociopathic twink, each making the other worse just through being together." Another reason i prefer this version of dark Yehonatan is cuz it restores some agency Yehonatan desperate lacks.

Strayed quite far from his canon image with my shameless slandering but yeah that's about it. For now. Might explore David's pov in this later.

[beecarmine]

Findings from reading Gerald’s journal (spoilers!)

• The journal was supplied to Abraham via an “Archival and Requisition Department,” and was signed “-T”

• Gerald had two sons: one was interested in robotics, the other in archaeology

• Project ARK had other funding outside of the United Federation

• Experiments were being conducted on a chaos emerald on the ARK, which was simply “acquired” at some point

• There is a direct reference to Ifrit from Sonic Rivals 2

• Emerl was found “in a warehouse” by Gerald’s archeologist son.

• Emerl may very well have eradicated The Fourth Great Civilization

• Maria was diagnosed with her illness later in life and was, presumably, not born with it

• Maria was moved from Earth to the ARK with the begrudging/unsure consent of her parents

• Maria is officially referred to as being the “adoptive daughter” of everyone aboard the ARK

• Maria had to use mobility aids

• Abraham Tower was the result of an accidental pregnancy

• Gerald refers to the pursuit of immortality (as requested by the president) as being “as intangible as a shadow,” and that he can use that pursuit to “chase [the] shadow” of finding a cure for Maria’s illness

• The Chaos-inspired robots were Gerald’s first answer to GUN’s demand for weapons, though their original intention was for search and rescue

• Chaos Drives were invented as a way to infuse Chaos Emerald energy into living tissue safely, as direct contact with the Chaos Emerald proved too dangerous

• Lizards (salamanders) were chosen as the first test subjects of the newly invented Chaos Drives for their regenerative properties and “manageable size.”

• Early Chaos Drives were also given to GUN’s mechs to power them

• Gerald felt incredibly guilty about the biolizard, and tried to keep it as comfortable as possible knowing that it was in tremendous pain

• Gerald may or may not have lied to Maria about what happened to the salamander

• Gerald was fiercely protective of Maria and had no tolerance for anyone who doubted the validity of her illness

• Gerald equates his agreement with Doom as being a deal with the devil

• Somehow, the development of a “small, sturdy biped” (hedgehog) was born out of necessity, and not to imitate other bipedal hedgehogs

• “Project Shadow” was named by Gerald with “scorn and mockery,” but it took Maria to help him realize that “A shadow tells you which way to go to find the light.”

• Gerald wanted Shadow to be “A champion of life and hope”

• “Gizoid” means “everything”

• The Gizoid (Emerl) establishes an unbreakable, protective link with whoever can exhibit the most power

• Gerald established a “link” with Emerl by firing multiple model guns in front of him

• The stress Gerald was under is reflected in his journal entries becoming more rushed and erratic

• Emerl was handed over to the government when they threatened to shut down Project Shadow

• Gerald created the Eclipse Cannon in response to Emerl not being “flashy” enough, and deliberately made it so that it would be impossible to use on a single enemy without destroying the world

• The Eclipse Cannon was meant for Shadow to deal with the Black Arms; as in, “This is Shadow’s cannon. My gift to him in a battle he never asked for.

I’m so sorry.”

• Maria helped design Shadow’s accessories to help ease the strain of the chaos power in him (specifically his shoes and rings)

• Gerald’s sons started to drift apart, divided in their relationship with their father

• Shadow and Maria’s relationship rekindled some hope in Gerald and what he was working towards

• Maria’s parents had another daughter, and Gerald felt it was a sort of “replacement” for her. No indicator to how Maria may have felt

• Emerl rampaged the ARK after having a new link established and learning enough to become “A god of wrath,” as described in ancient stone tablets

• Emerl’s rampage turned the Artificial Chaos to behave erratically and dangerously

• Both Shadow and Emerl are “equipped with heart”

• Gerald became so distraught from Maria’s death that he completely lost all sense of self

• Gerald left “everything” to Shadow

• In the last paragraph, Gerald seems to refer to Shadow using “it” and “he” interchangeably, but it’s a bit unclear if he’s referring to Shadow exclusively

• The journal has an Eggman sticker on the back, marking it as “Property of the Eggman Empire”

[afsalovesnikolai]

THIS TOOK SO LONGGG IM SORRY U GUYS BUT I KINDA LIKE THIS SHOULD I MAKE A PT 2??? <333 YOU GUYS PLS READ THIS I THINK THIS MIGHT BE MY BEST WORKSSS!! also thing is i had dazai in mind for this but then i thought that it might be ooc so the character can be anyone!!

warnings : murder, stalking, suggestive writing, two psychos in love <33 (i do not condone these actions outside of fanfiction)

word count : 3.291K

(credit to @tookio for the dividers throughout the story!! lace one!! )

In the dimly lit streets of the city, where shadows, secrets, whispers and crime had all intertwined. You would have never ever even thought about the fact that you would have met him. Handsome was an understandment, but beneath all that charisma lies a man that you had met that fateful night.

You had simply seen him...everywhere. he was quiet the talk. his name was well-known. but by each passing day the paranoia increased. you had seen his smile, it was so perfect. god even you had a slight crush on the man, who wouldn't?

just like everyone else you had fantasies too, i mean his skin was so smooth...it'd be a perfect addition to you're collection. Out of everyone you had seen he simply had this charm you've never even noticed in others. why not indulge yourself in these weird fantasies? i mean sure you wouldn't be acting them out, so what harm right!

As a detective it was normal for you to get off work late, helping others and solving crimes. The pay was quite good in honesty, that's the only reason you sticked around.

nothing really interested you when you think about it, from a young age everything was all, blank. You really couldn't give a shit about anyone. You were only doing your job.

So when you stumbled across him as you entered the alley and heard the sound of something gushing, was that the sound of... stabbing? You never had thought you would've found him. murdering the man who had asked for your hand, you wouldn't blame him. he was an nuisance.

in the dim lights the eye contact between you two was tense, until you had sighed and raised an eyebrow as the words stumbled out.

"you seem like a busy man tonight, sir." you say unbothered at the sight as you continue observing him, he was wet with blood, obviously, you note. the smell was unbearable, so was the sight...he really did a number on him.

his eyes twinkle with amusement, a devilish smirk playing upon his lips. "Indeed, I am. But fear not, dear detective, I hold no ill intentions toward you." His voice was smooth as he reassured you.

you simply stare at him confused as you decide to do what's best, "That's...fine by me, sir. Have a good night dear stranger." you brush off as you wave goodbye to him and continue your merry way back home.

you weren't bothered...? oh how happy he was! with a grin spread across his face reaching his ears he watched you turn the other way and walk away. thank god! He had his eyes on you for sososo long!! You never knew how much he had wanted to possess you, to claim her as his own, even if it meant succumbing to the darkest corners of his soul! You saw him murder...yet you didn't even react? you could have done anything! gone to the police- ran away- or even decide to do something since you yourself were a detective! but no! you didn't! this means something right? you kept his secret! he knows you will! who else would you tell? this is perfect...that means you agree to be his! i mean c'mon- you didn't even care! he confirms your the one- only one!!! such a Fateful night, gosh!!

your figure gets smaller and smaller as he watched you with a giddy attitude, forgetting all about the body just by his foot...he had wanted to court you...he couldn't have that could he? he did this for you! and you didn't even care much about him! your the perfect one!!!

he always had a yearning to understand his soulmate...who dares to walk the same path as him yet stands on opposite sides of the moral divider. now? he's gotten his answer

As the days passed, the memory of him lingered in your thoughts, a persistent thorn in his otherwise impenetrable psyche. Intrigued by his motives and everything, you had found yourself drawn to his presence, craving the thrill of her company...this was bad.

One night you had no idea how it had happened. some bitch had been getting on your nerves. next second you find yourself in the same alleyway you and that man had met, as you continue stabbing the woman, her face was disformed, her organs were showing as the blood spurted out, god...it felt so right. The greed taking over as you took advantage of her drunk-like state. If her face wasn't disformed from the amount of struggle she put in, maybe you would have used her skin to experiment.

you now see why killing was such a thrill, simply from hearing it from others at your work, to looking for clues, even going to crime scenes and asking witnesses, to reading such books at night before bed, and witnessing that man do a gruesome sin so casually?? you had given up. all the pent up amount of anger and frustration showing up as you showed no mercy to the woman under you and you continue making the same motion.

up, down, squelch, up. up, squelch, down, up. up, squelch, down, actions that were considered psychotic and you were against all going down the drain- you were a detective goddammit! why was this happening?? god you just-

you stop all actions as your moments falter at the sound of footsteps. turning your head to the direction you found him, standing there with a smirk.

you chuckle and soften your eyes as you say "dear stranger, we meet again." you say as you observe him, this time it was you who was covered in blood, him a witness to your deepest desires.

he had always questioned whether his feelings towards you were love or obsession....whether you'd get to live or die was depended on what he had thought of you. yet, seeing you in this light made him question his own motives.

"Once again, fate brings us together," he murmured, his voice cold yet amused. "I see our paths are destined to cross repeatedly." From the corner of his eye, he noticed your hand gripping the weapon tightly, a mask of determination etched onto her face. "What brings you here, my dear detective?" He asked, curiosity mingled with a slight bit of excitement.

"ah business, my dear stranger." you commented as you eye him up and down, you didn't really know if it was in attraction or disgust really, everything was too foggy in your brain.

rights confused with wrongs, left and rights, north and south, west and east, god it was such a ecstatic feeling!

a faint smirk graced his lips as he studied his dear, the veneer of his composure never faltering. "Business, you say?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow. "And what kind of 'business' requires the taking of a life?" His gaze shifted to the dead woman on the ground.

you were like him!!! he was so happy!! imagine the dates you could have since you and him were alike!! he wonders if you'll kill for him too as he has for you, his dear spouse!!!

"The usual, now we've both caught each other doing this act of....sin haven't we?" you say warning reminding him oh his own crimes as you cautiously look at him for any reactions as you clutch your knife suspicious at his motive.

The gleam in his eyes intensified, acknowledging the truth in your statement. He let out a soft chuckle, a sinister sound that echoed through the alleyway. "so it seems we share a common bond, after all. you and I, the hunter's. It is a curious coincidence, indeed." Pausing briefly, he continued, "But our roles do not define us, my dear detective. Shall we exchange confessions, or shall we continue our separate journeys?" he asked with a smirk.

god you don't get it!! he's so nervous! he's itching to hold you! please say yes! he'll actually die and drag you with him if you say no!!

after a few moments of silence you break it with a simple, "Shall we have dinner at mine?" you ask as you tilt my head in curiosity of his response.

he raised an eyebrow at the unexpected invitation, but there was no denying the allure of its audacity. There was something about you that piqued his interest, a challenge he couldn't resist. "An intriguing proposition, detective," he replied, his voice smooth as silk. "I accept, under one condition. We shall share our darkest secrets over dinner, and I believe that you have tales worth hearing." With slow steps he walked towards you.

you have no idea what you do to him, your so perfect...he cant believe he had forgotten the ring at home. he'll make it up though, perhaps a night together? Would you enjoy that?

he walks towards you not to startle you as you stay put and clutch the knife by your side, once he reaches you he gently takes the knife out of your hand and holds it by his side,a small gesture to make sure you wouldn't stab him or the woman anymore. Speaking of, he continues observes the woman below the two. he knows your not dumb enough to leave evidence due to your experience, so he leaves it at that.

you speak up continuing the eye contact as you admit, "I don't have much stories, i can assure you that. This is my other darkest secret. The art of killing is quite fascinating, no? The motives, blood, shrill, everything." you sigh out in relief.

Oh? Quite amusing, no?

as you spoke, he observed you closely, noting the dreamy quality in your voice. There was a certain thrill in her words, a shared understanding that surprised him. "The art of killing..." he mused, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "It is indeed a fascinating dance, a deadly waltz between life and death. But it is not merely the violence that captivates me; it is the web of motivations that drive individuals to such extremes. Tell me, what fuels your passion for it?" He asked, genuinely interested in her answer. he himself personally knew that beneath the surface of any killer, layered a story untold.

"My story..? I apologize but i'm not that quite fascinating. i simply wanted to feel the thrill and joy, i suppose that's what makes us different. Now dear stranger, care to have dinner with me tonight?" you remind him of the pervious offer as you start to get slightly impatient at the questions.

he nodded, accepting the change in direction of the conversation. "Very well, detective. Your reasons for your actions may not be as elaborate as mine, but they are yours nonetheless." he paused for a moment, considering her proposal. "Yes, I accept your invitation. Tonight it is." A sly smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, the anticipation of their meeting building within him. "Perhaps over dinner, we will uncover more about each other's motivations and the shadows that shape us." he says that more as a promise as the gaze in his eyes are tender yet filled with a look that makes you shiver...surprisingly.

you offer a hand for him, taking the offered hand, he felt the cool body temperature compared to his warmth.

His eyes flickered with surprise, but he hid it well. "You leave no trace, do you?" he remarked, his tone neutral. "a wise precaution, one that I respect." Turning to face you, he wrapped his free arm around her shoulders, guiding her through the dimly lit alleyway. "Now, let us embark on this adventure you speak of. to uncover the shadows that shape us, we must first delve into the darkness that binds us."

his arm slides down her shoulder and instead their fingers entwined, the two walked side by side, an unlikely duo drawn together like magnets...

"your skin is so smooth, i'd gladly use it as a use for my future experiment, but for now i shall continue doing research." you note to him as you walk hand in hand to your apartment, a new unlikely bond forming.

he smiles as he stays quiet as he observes you take out your keys, unlock the said door to your apartment, and let him go in first, he does so as he steps in a couple of steps as he comments "Your home reflects your nature, detective. Cluttered yet organized, a testament to your duality."

you lock the door as you step in with him and guide him to the small table, oddly enough you had two chairs across from each other with a small round table in between.

he sits as you gesture for him to sit as his eyes simply watch you, never taking them off you or your figure...this is a dream come true for him, dear. you have no idea of all the nights he's thought about this, a fantasy now a reality.

you start by assuring him "I don't plan on having your head, rest assure my dear. I simply wish to enjoy the warmth of a dinner."

he gets even more ecstatic but doesn't let it show as his lips quirk into a small smile.

"Warmth, indeed. An appropriate word for the evening, don't you think?" he comments as he puts his cheek in his palm which is resting on the table as he tilts his head and continues smiling at you.

warmth, warmth?

in the small moments of chatting and such while you prepare dinner for two as he observes you continue talking about exchanged stories- tales of their past, their motivations, and the darkness that haunted them.

you set down the plates on his and your side as you sit in your chair and begin eating, silence overtakes the two as you continue enjoying the warmth of another person and the food which isn't as bad as the one's from the other days.

you start by saying "now when we first met, did you know the man you had killed my dear? He was planning on courting me the next day...but you had killed him" you say wiping your lips with a napkin to ensure you didn't look improper infront of your new guest.

his moments falter then he hides it with a smirk as his gaze locking onto you. "a twist of fate, then," he said quietly, setting down the fork for a moment to take a sip of the water. "Your intended suitor, replaced by an unexpected encounter with me. A interesting meeting that led us here, sharing a meal and confessions. Quite poetic, don't you think?" He resumed eating, his expression the same. "yet, I wonder, why did you not reciprocate his feelings towards you? Was there something about him that displeased you?"

he asked, curious about her feelings toward the man he had intentionally kiled yet he masks it up with curiosity wanting to know more about his dear,

"He simply...wouldn't approve of my ideals." you say as you shrug your shoulders as you put down your fork and admire the man across from you, the lighting right above the table highlighting his features, his eyes downwards as he focuses on eating, his face looking charming as ever, and him.

he meets your eyes as he then says "Ideals are a tricky thing, aren't they? They can either bring people together or tear them apart. And in this case, it seems like your ideals kept you from that fateful engagement." He pondered for a moment, then added, "Tell me more about these ideals, detective. What drives you to walk this dark path?" He wanted to understand you better, to unravel the threads that made you...you!!

As they continued their meal, the conversation flowed effortlessly, each revelation painting a clearer picture of his dear sitting across from him.

with questions unanswered from your side, you get up as you collect both your and his empty dishes as you walk to the sink and rinse the plates with water before putting soap on a sponge and getting to work.

he watched you move gracefully about the kitchen, a mix of admiration and amusement playing across his features. "You have a peculiar charm, detective. one cannot help but be drawn in by you." He mused, leaning back in his chair. "but I must ask, will you always be the hunter, or do you ever allow yourself to be hunted?" His question was gentle, yet persistent, encouraging you to reveal another factor about your life.

you decide to indulge in his charm as you answer "i can be anything you want, my dear," you say as you continue scrubbing the dishes not bothering to turn back and look at him as you continue your work.

his eyes never move off your figure as he starts by saying "perhaps...there is more to discover within each other than just our dark interests, dearest."

He stood up, crossing the room to stand behind her. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he whispered softly into her ear, "And what of your fantasies, detective? Do share them with me, and I promise to fulfill them." His breath tickled her neck, a gentle reminder of his presence. The tension in the air thickened, their connection growing stronger with each passing moment.

you simply cherish his warmth compared to your coldness as you hum a tone enjoying the temporary- no forever moments between you two.

after a short while you say "our night that day i suppose was a fateful night, no?" you say moving for a bit turning off the faucet and then setting the plates. Afterword's, drying your hands then meeting his body against yours as you put your arms around his neck with a playful smirk.

he returned her smile, his own smirk matching her playfulness. "Yes, indeed, a fateful night-" he agreed yet interrupting himself, leaning in instead to brush a soft kiss against her lips. the kiss was a small one, simply enjoying the softness against lips as you seal an invisible oath.

he continues on "-One that will echo through our dreams and shape our reality. Your hands are clean now, but I fear, my dear detective, I may never wash off the stains of our shared past." He pulled her close, as if that was even possible as he and you enjoy the tenderness as his hand cups your cheek.

"in what way my dear? we have such a bond...our fondness could increase more, it'd be a shame if it went to waste." you say as you nuzzle closer to his hand on your cheek.

" I am merely a shadow, a whisper in the wind that brings forth change," he then plants a soft kiss at the softness of your neck below you jaw as he continues, "but for you? my dear, call me whatever you wish for tonight, i am yours just as if you are mine."

Their embrace lingered, filled with unspoken promises and desires. The air between them crackled with anticipation, a silent agreement to explore the boundaries of themselves to the fullest for eternity.

"care to spend the night, dear?" you ask, a simple question yet very obvious intentions.

knowing the answer yet he considered your invitation, his eyes never leaving yours. "I accept, under one condition: You allow me to learn everything about you, and share with me your deepest secrets." He whispered, his tone low and seductive. "only then can we truly merge our shadows, becoming one in the dance of darkness." His fingers tightened subtly, pulling her closer still despite the closeness.

"Then afterwords...do we forget about everything we had tonight? Or maybe...are you thinking of something else dear?" You ask hopefully as you push a strand of his hair behind his ear.

"Such forgetfulness does have its merits, but it would be foolish to discard the memories we create. Instead, let's keep them locked away in our hearts, to be revisited only for us." He leaned in, brushing his lips with yours as he continues holding your cheek tenderly.

This was more than mere attraction; it was a bond born of shared darkness and mutual understanding. He knew that this encounter would leave an indelible mark on them both, and he welcomed it. Their passion grew, fueled by secrets and desires, until they succumbed to the pull of the night, surrendering to the whims of fate and their own twisted dreams.

OMG YOU GUYS THIS IS ACC NOT BAD??!!! WOW IM BACK U GUYSS <3333

[fr3sh-tragedies]

Apologize

[Until Dawn] Samantha Giddings x Female Reader

Word Count: 2.04k

Proofread: Yes

Content Warnings: An argument, but nothing really specific

[A/N]: This one's really short compared to the others, but it's because that's what my intention was. I didn't want to stress out over this one, so I gave myself a really low goal of 2k words. It was fun to write this. Hope you'll enjoy. Not sure who I'll write for next. At the moment, I only have six more characters I want to write for.

Enjoy!

 It was extremely hard for Sam to get angry at someone, let alone get into an actual argument. She tended to be the level-headed one in her friend group, never one to willingly indulge in drama. Very rarely did she raise her voice in a non-joking manner, so when she did, the people around her she was close to got very uncomfortable. Not necessarily because she was threatening, but because it was so unlike her. Fortunately, her girlfriend was the same way. The two of them hardly ever got into an argument that wasn’t playful.

So when one broke out one night, both of them grew uncomfortable. They got defensive, with Sam trying to steer the conversation in another direction, and [Y/N] trying to just agree to disagree. Neither one of them really remembered how the argument started, but they both knew it wasn’t going anywhere.

Another thing that was uncommon for the two women was for them to say something hateful toward anyone, even if they felt threatened. During the entirety of their relationship, which was running strong for over three years, no one in their shared friend group had ever witnessed them fight with each other. Out of all of them, she and [Y/N] were usually the ones who stayed calm and tried to compromise and keep the peace. And when anyone needed to talk something through with a trusted friend, she and [Y/N] were the go-tos.

Somewhere in the middle of the argument, one of them had slightly raised their voice, which in turn prompted the other to do the same. This continued until they were almost yelling at each other, something they had never done to one another. It was causing a great deal of stress on them both. They couldn’t seem to find a way to fix whatever had begun the whole ordeal.

As they grew louder, Sam shouted something of ill-intent toward [Y/N] in the heat of the moment, wanting to just be done with the argument. In response, [Y/N] threw back a similarly hateful retort, claiming she wished they had never started dating. She didn’t mean to say it–neither of them meant to say any of it–it all just spilled out before they could stop it.

Sam froze at her words, grimacing as she fought back the tears pricking her eyes. She sniffled and took a breath to prevent her voice from breaking.

“If that’s how you feel, then…”

She paused, trying to calm herself down and think things through. After a moment, she pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed.

“I’ll give you some space. We both need to calm down before we even try to talk this through.”

[Y/N] huffed. Usually, she’d agree without hesitation. Because of her hurt feelings, however, she was hesitant to do so. Instead, she turned on her heel and stormed into the kitchen, then the pantry. There, she grabbed her car keys and left through the front door, passing Sam on her way out. She slammed the door behind her, and she instantly regretted doing so, but she couldn’t take it back. Not once in her relationship with Sam had an argument gotten this bad. The two of them had never said dating was a mistake, nor had they thrown nasty comments at each other out of frustration.

Sam didn’t know how to deal with the situation quite yet, and neither did [Y/N]. Silently, [Y/N] agreed with Sam about giving each other space before working things out.

She hopped into her car and switched the engine on, pulling out of the driveway and speeding down the road. Once she came to a red light, she popped a CD in and cranked the music up, wanting to drown out her hateful thoughts.

As she drove off to who knows where, Sam remained in the living room of their shared home. She plopped herself back down onto the sofa cushions and sighed, burying her face in her hands as she replayed the entire conversation over and over again in her mind. Each time she recalled the words she spoke, or rather hollered, she flinched, wanting nothing more than to take them back.

There was no excuse for what she said. She didn’t even really remember why things had gotten so aggressive.

As she sat there, counting the hours while she waited for [Y/N] to come home, her guilt began to grow even further. She promised herself she’d sit down and talk things out once they were together again.

Whenever that may be.

She should’ve stopped [Y/N] from leaving.

She should’ve asked her to sit down with her, or at least stay home.

She should’ve kept her cool and ended the argument before it began.

And all the while, as her guilt ate away at her conscience, [Y/N] was battling with her own mind nearly halfway across town.

How could she have said something so cruel? Sam didn’t deserve that at all. She had no right to be that crude towards her. She had been trying to change the subject, but [Y/N], for some reason she couldn’t figure out, refused to give in. Instead, she wanted to just “agree to disagree,” even though she knew that wouldn’t have ended very well. She and Sam were both very stubborn about their personal beliefs, meaning they’d struggle with that concept.

She knew that, and yet she continued to press on the matter.

She knew that, and yet she still blurted out that the relationship was a mistake.

She knew that, and yet she still stormed out of the house like a child.

With a heavy sigh of defeat, [Y/N] turned the car around and started her journey back to the house. One way or another, she’d find a way to work things out with Sam, even if it took all night.

By the time she made it back, it was well past midnight. Had she not known Sam well enough, she’d assume the blonde would be tucked away under the covers in their shared bed, sound asleep. However, she had known her all her life. She knew her thoughts, tendencies, insecurities, everything. And Sam was the same–they knew each other inside and out, which is what usually prevented these things from happening.

It was no surprise to [Y/N] when she unlocked the door and pushed it open to reveal Sam still sitting there on the couch. She glanced up from her spot on the cushions, a look of pure relief washing over her features. The blonde stood, stepping over to stand in front of [Y/N] once the door was shut and locked behind her. “Thank god you’re okay,” Sam whispered, lifting her hands to cup the smaller girl’s face and press their foreheads together. [Y/N] made no move to lean away from her touch, but rather leaned into her hands.

Her eyes shut softly when her head made contact with Sam’s, a small sigh of solace slipping past her lips. “Yeah, I’m okay. I’m sorry I worried you.” The blonde smiled and hummed, letting her hands slide down [Y/N]’s arms to gently take hold of her hands. “You don’t have to apologize. You’re okay, and that’s all that matters.”

They stayed there for a moment, standing together under the dim light above the entryway to the den. Finally, Sam led her over to the couch and sat her down, joining her immediately after.

“I’m just gonna get right to the point. I’m really sorry I said what I did. I had no right to talk about you like that. I’m sorry, I really am,” Sam started, squeezing her hands in her own.

“I forgive you. And I’m sorry too,” [Y/N] replied just as quietly. “The fact I said our relationship was a mistake was disgusting. I didn’t mean a word of what I said, I swear. I just…I was hurt, and panicking, and I just wanted to say something to defend myself in the moment. I shouldn’t have said that though.”

Sam grinned, her thumb caressing the back of [Y/N]’s hand soothingly before bringing it up to press a kiss to her knuckles. “I forgive you,” she mumbled against her skin. “Could we both promise not to do that again though? I think that’s the most stress I’ve ever felt in our entire relationship.” [Y/N] chuckled at her words, bringing another genuine smile to her lips. “Yeah, I’d love to make that promise. Nearly cried my whole way home because I felt so bad about what happened.”

With a featherlike touch, Sam pulled [Y/N] into a hug, tucking her face against the crook of her neck and relaxing at the familiar scent of the girl’s shampoo and perfume. Her eyes fluttered shut, a silent sigh slipping through her lips, still perked up in a smile.

“I love you so much,” she whispered.

“I love you too,” came [Y/N]’s reply.

A moment passed, one far more comfortable than the situation from a few hours prior, and the two held onto each other as they swayed side to side. Finally, much to her embarrassment, a low rumble sounded from [Y/N]’s stomach, drawing both of their attention away. Sam leaned back and laughed gently. “Should we order something?” She questioned, already reaching for her phone laying face down on the coffee table.

[Y/N] nodded, laughing along with her. “Yeah. I was too worried during the entire drive to worry about eating, so…I guess it’s better late than never, right?” Sam smirked and nodded. “Yeah, that’s true. I’m in the same boat anyway. What sounds good? Not sure what’s open, but I’m sure we can find something good.”

[Y/N] beamed up at her, already feeling the previously thick tension dissolving at a rapid pace.

Sam picked up her phone after [Y/N] mentioned a few possible choices, clicking onto Google and scrolling through the open restaurants to find something that would satisfy both of their appetites. Eventually, they settled on something fairly cheap nearby, ordering said meal and setting everything up while they waited.

While [Y/N] stayed downstairs to pick something to watch on the TV, as well as gathering nearby blankets, Sam headed upstairs to their spare closet and picked out a few of the fluffiest pillows and blankets she could find. She trailed back downstairs, and the two of them bundled up together underneath their small fort of comfort. They were able to watch a decent amount of what [Y/N] had chosen to play on the screen before their order arrived.

Reluctantly, Sam left the comfort of all of the plush covers and pillows, already missing the warmth of [Y/N] by the time she made it to the door to pay the driver and take the order. Once everything was settled with the deliverer, Sam sauntered back over to the couch. She handed [Y/N] her order, including her drink, then managed to wriggle her way back into her previous spot before diving into her own dish.

As the two downed their food and rinsed it down with their drinks, they leaned further and further against each other. By the time they finished their meal and put the plastic containers and cutlery aside, [Y/N] was resting on top of Sam, both of them still buried underneath layers of their collection of blankets. Her head ended up planting itself atop the blonde’s chest, allowing her to listen to her heartbeat with ease.

Soft, delicate fingers raked their way through [Y/N]’s locks before a small kiss was pressed to her head. She glanced up curiously, only to find Sam beaming back down at her with a look of pure admiration. Her smile was returned just as warmly.

A moment or so passed before [Y/N] turned her head back to face the screen again. Her eyes began to flutter shut as Sam continued to stroke her hair. She fought to keep herself awake, but finally gave in when Sam mumbled a soft, “I love you,” and pressed another kiss to her head, lulling her deeper into slumber with ease.

[geekgirles]

Since all I ask for now is that Amalia gets to call the Osamodas out on their hypocrisy and betrayal, I think it's important to point out Armand never wanted Aurora to rule.

I say this in light of her father claiming she is the rightful heir to the throne when we all know she's actually not.

And I don't just mean her claim on the throne isn't legitimate because a) she's not even a Sadida, or b) she was Armand's Osamodas wife, not even his daughter, which would give her claim some credibility, but because it's clear to see she was never meant to truly be the Sadidas' queen, not even their regent.

I know this all sounds contradictory with the fact that, by virtue of marrying Armand, the Crown Prince, she eventually became his queen, but the thing is, it's plain to see not even Armand wanted her to rule the kingdom on her own, which is what her family is trying to accomplish—although there's also a very high chance they intend to rule through her, rather than let her make her own decisions.

As @vinillain and I have discussed through reblogs, it seems to be implied Aurora was never really meant to rule: not only wasn't she a candidate for becoming her own people's queen, but it is clear to see she was only meant to be given an important position in court but with none of the responsibilities expected from such duty.

This can be seen in her role in seasons 3 and 4; despite being Armand's wife and loving him, she never really acted like a true queen. In season 3 she acted conniving and pretended to have Amalia and the kingdom's best interests in mind when, deep down, all she cared about was strengthening her and her family's power over Sadida politics. And in season 4 she remained passive, aloof, and emotionless throughout. At no point was she shown to feel genuine concern for her husband's people even in the face of an imminent threat.

The most active role she's taken ever since she debuted was playing matchmaker for an unwilling Amalia and trying to find more about the Eliaculus.

From what we've seen so far it's easy to conclude she was always meant to be Armand's consort, but never his actual partner. She was essentially sent to the Sadidas to act as their king's arm candy. Whatever power gap was between them, she never made any efforts to breach it and show her worth.

For all she and her family look down on Amalia, Aurora herself never matured enough to become a suitable ruler, whereas Amalia eventually grew into her mother's mantle; even when his father was still alive, she had already become Queen of the Sadidas.

And I think despite his love for her, Armand knew this. He knew she could never rule the kingdom without him; knew she never should rule his kingdom without him.

Despite his many flaws and not-so-stellar moments, Armand was raised to be king. He was never stupid. He knew the inner workings of politics in and out and how to navigate them.

This is apparent in his interactions with the Osamodas King.

While he maintained a cool head throughout, it was clear to see Armand saw right through his father-in-law's ill-veiled condescension towards his people and his desire to control his kingdom. Which is why I wouldn't be surprised if he had never truly trusted Aurora despite coming to love her.

Because of everything his people had gone through, Armand was perfectly aware his kingdom was practically of no importance to the other races, for they never sent their support when they needed it most. So it wouldn't be far-fetched to assume Armand knew all along the Osamodas' intentions behind marrying him to Aurora went beyond simply providing him with a queen.

Which is why I believe he never intended to let Aurora become regent if he was no longer around.

But my greatest evidence are his last words to Amalia as he was about to sacrifice himself and he put her to safety. I don't have the screenshots for it (so I'd appreciate if anyone could provide them), but he essentially told Amalia she would be their next queen.

That's it. That's all he said. He never said, "Please, help Aurora out", or "You two are co-rulers now", or even "You have my permission to fuck Yugo senseless". He told his sister it was up to her to rule their people, not his wife.

Meaning, between her being the last remaining Sheran Sharm, the second in line when her brother was still alive, and Armand's words, Amalia is the kingdom's rightful ruler, not Aurora. It was never Aurora.  

[huenation]

first love never die / kkh

word count: 1,776

genre: angst, idol!txt, non-idol!mc

synopsis: it’s hard to navigate kai’s kindness and affection after he was the one who broke up with you for no reason

hyuka as your heartbreakingly sweet ex boyfriend who while he did end things still cares for you and loves you and is always there. he doesn’t have a mean bone in his body but you can’t help but feel like his kindness, his unchanging love wounds you. beyond the hemorrhaging of your heartbreak, there’s streams of guilt that run deeper with the way you put up a fight and a wall to kai. he keeps trying to be there for you — as a friend, but nothing of his actions since the break up speaks lesser of how he treated you before. you’re angry. you’re coldhearted. you’re on defense. you’re hurt.

and how could anyone be that way to someone who rivals the sun? these are the reasons you find yourself holed away in your room every night. turning down hangouts with the guys, leaving the group chat that you were in with everyone, practically ignoring kai, and in the few cases you speak it’s indifferently, moving away from him every time he even tries to be near you, leaving you to push yourself away in the dark. like how you are now, packing your things unceremoniously to leave, despite just arriving, now that you know kai is home. it’s humiliating, but you can’t turn back time, not when your silent disaster of a breakup now has involved the rest of them.

they do try and get you to stay as always. running away is cowardly. making a big deal out of nothing, or of what can’t be changed, is worse. however, they know you know this well enough.

“it hurts, you know?” the question startles kai, turning on his heel to see soobin at the kitchen table on his ipad, sporting his glasses, and tossing back a can of beer. kai turns back and huffs. he makes a show of how he feels with his crossed arms, pout, and deep sigh that extends to his shoulders. “what?” soobin confirms what he said with a nod. “it hurts for y/n. i mean, i know you mean well, hyuka. you always do, you always have. it just hurts that you still want to be the boyfriend and you aren’t.”

“tell me about it,” kai mutters under his breath, feeling the silence in response and drops another sigh at the weight of soobin’s gaze.

“no, tell y/n about it.” a badger of eyebrows towards the eldest emerges in response.

“well, i can’t.”

“then? it’s unfair for you to not give them space, and i know it’s virtually impossible for us to hang out with them without you since… this is our dorm and y/n’s our friend, but, i’m just saying, you broke up with them, they still don’t know why, and you’re still all over them. feels like you’re dangling a carrot in front of a bunny.”

kai drops his gaze to the floor at that. it takes a minute to settle, pondering now on his leader’s words. he likes to think he’s pretty sympathetic since he has no ill intentions, especially when it comes to you. he hadn’t thought of it that way. he just wanted to help.

but he knows things would only get worse if he did. if he did tell you why he ended things. if he explained why his agency emphasized that he can’t be dating anyone. when he had argued with the higher ups for the sake of keeping you in his life, stating that you and he were meant to be, they warned him that the only person who’d really get hurt is you, unfamiliar with the stark limelight that even he finds harmful as an idol. and he understood. he couldn’t. you always worked above and beyond to make time for him, even rearranging your schedule to align with the brief moments he had free time. he still wanted to be there for you.

but he knew it wasn’t right. so he backed off.

at least he tried to.

you had expected one of the guys to come over to just sit around and do nothing with at your house, opening the door without any hesitation at the knock. of course, your smile drops once you see who it is, eyes shimmering with hurt and anger, and you’re ready to shut the door but he slips his foot between it. you both just stare at his shoe sticking out, his little “ow” causing you to sigh and let him in. he’s so stubborn.

you walk back to your couch, arms crossed, as kai takes in your place. it’s been a month since the breakup. he hasn’t been here since then. nothing much has changed. the little plants at your sliding doors to your balcony lie by the bases of their pots, wilted and dead. a little mess here and there, but it’s still you. just having endured the brunt of getting dumped.

with an aloof and annoyed expression, you pick at your nails, lips pursed in a sour line.

“y/n?” he breathes out and you glance up at him, scowl forming.

“what?”

“have you eaten?”

the question makes you pause just for a second. he’s always cared about your eating and sleeping habits, checking in with you to remind you, taking care of you, and since you never let him a word in edgewise, it caught you off guard. you swallow a lump, rising to step away from him and rummage through your messes of trash and piles of clothes.

you’re not doing well.

“why does it matter to you?”

“because i care.”

you scoff, ruffling a garbage bag angrily, and you can feel him hovering over you from behind.

“here we go.” an eye roll.

“i do. i swear i do!” he presses and even if you hadn’t at all wanted to even talk to him or even look at him, you do all at once.

“then why did we break up?”

the question is finally in the air. your body language is tense, fists balled, expression tough even if he knows lunar eclipses in your eyes are more than soft by the brimming tears ready to take a leap. kai reads all of you, heart breaking, and after a moment, he sucks in a breath and slumps.

“that’s what i thought…” you scoff coldly through your teeth, sniffling and rubbing your wet cheek with your wrist. kai’s own vision blurs. his chest tightens and his throat burns. he hates this so much. instead of protecting you, all he’s done is break your heart and make you hate him.

“i wish i could tell you…” he lets out, voice breaking, and you lift your head at that. he never cries. a palm is stretched over his face, shoulders dropped in and lips trembling past the view of his limb.

“i think the more i talk to you, the more i try to ease the pain, all it does is hurt you and i’m sorry,” he sniffles hard, body scrunching up in an effort to hold in his cry. your eyes are waterfalls by now, even if there’s a mess of anger and sadness in you. kai drops his hand and with much hesitation looks up at you, blood shot eyes and shiny cheeks. you gasp.

“the truth is… my agency forbids us from dating and i know it’s stupid, b-believe me, i know, since you’re allowed to be friends with all of us still, it’s just that… you’re going to get hurt, like… it’s inevitable, y/n, and that’s not even the only thing i tried to fight — ” the breaths he draws in are so shaky and all you want to do is hold him, let him fold in your arms and let him cry, but with everything he’s saying, it only digs your feet further into the ground. your eyes are glazed over at the realization of it all. it didn’t matter how much work you’d put in, you’d always have to be a secret. and if the world discovered you, things would end horrifically not just for you two but for the boys, too.

“i already am the least popular member and you know how bad things can get and i can’t let you take the blow when things come crashing down. i just can’t. even if we try our case, let’s be honest, you’re going to be the one to suffer more and i wish i could do more, i wish i could have explained this to you, but that would have… it would have made me endings a lot harder than they would have to be. so i’m sorry, y/n…”

your grip on your shirt’s hem tightens, while the ones in your eyes loosens with the remnants of your tears. pain feels like gravity now, it’s weighing you down, and your chest feels so full, like you can’t breathe.

“i guess you’re right,” your voice is so broken and hoarse, kai looking up. the two of you stand far apart like strangers, lost looks in your eyes but they are reflections of your navigation of this heartbreak. he had to swallow such a large pill and keep it together for the two of you. how could anyone shoulder this and take the brunt for two?

it didn’t surprise you. your hyuka has not one bad cell in his body.

“i’m sorry, hyuka,” you palm your mouth, trying to shut the wails that are building in your throat down. “i’m sorry i was so cruel to you, i’m sorry i was so angry i didn’t care if it meant you got hurt, i’m sorry i didn’t know the truth…”

apologies flood from your tongue until it’s a jumble of consonants and vowels. kai takes another leap, walking from his spot and moving to you, coming to embrace you. that warmth, that sweet scent of his, the little nose whistles, all of him enveloped you in a hug you didn’t realize you were dying for for so long.

so as you broke down in his arms, knowing words coming from you and him, you felt your world coming down as you knew it. kai had been on this path by himself for about a month while you were taking your first turbulent steps. this isn’t a normal breakup, that much was clear, but one thing that was for certain, when the two of you eventually pulled away, eyes red and swollen, wet nose and cheeks rosy with grief, pupils so dark and broken, voices so tinny and hoarse, hand in hand so tightly, agreement to remain friends forever…

you and kai would always love each other.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　 ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖✶ ✦　　

ending note: pardon this silly little idea i had and the way i RUSHED the ending but i just wanted this out of my sight before it turned into a 10k serious thing hope u enjoyed hehehe

[horizon-verizon]

I think George dont realised what happen to season 2 was a butterfly effects from season 1 yet George still praising season 1, he actually did similar with his complain about Targ sigil, isnt he too late for that? That four legs was already there since season one (Harry Llyod costume), if George still enjoying season 1 and can separate them with his book why can't he do that with the following season they never intent to follow his story btw.

What GRRM was trying to say in the dragons post was what he continues and expounds on in his Maelor/Sophie's Choice post: if you mess with the most critical, moving parts of the plot, you're going to strip the story of its meaning AND empty yourself of logical lines towards future events. that's what anon's referring to.

Well, anon, in that dragons post, GRRM didn't give examples [that had the, in my opinion, very necessary and well warned spoiler] and didn't explain what he meant by "Fantasy needs to be grounded.   It is not simply a license to do anything you like. Smaug and Toothless may both be dragons, but they should never be confused.  Ignore canon, and the world you’ve created comes apart like tissue paper."

What's different now, anon, is exactly what he said in his post, anon: they are messing with VERY CRITICAL MOMENTS that have to do with the end of the war itself; they crossed a particular line in the telling of the story itself, something that should, at all costs, be retained in the show for the ending (Maelor). This isn't about costumes or anything that could be easily reshaped into a "close-enough" storyline, esp bc Jaehaera NEEDS to make it to the end of the Dance and no she cannot replace Maelor. No, she cannot become Aegon's heir; bc the greens were steadfast abt it having to be a boy, having the succession go through males, thus stick to their own guns/reason for going into the war in the first place and going towards their fall. And this part abt Jaehaera, again, is not even the thing GRRM was talking abt out the post.

It's like asking someone to be happy with someone making Nymeria have mostly men instead of women in her group of Rhoynar-rescued; like having the Mountain not kill Elia Martell and her kids, which leads to Oberyn going after the Mountain, which goes into the acceleration of the Dornish plot against the Lannisters going on right now. At least, this is the thing he notes. And he's entitled to expressing what he sees and observes are not-great changes to his story when he see/observes them. As we all are when we're looking at something created for us to watch/read; with him, the actual writer, he has even more "right" to.

In season 1, he also wasn't promised (seemingly) something would happen and then that thing then not happening, as what was the deal with Maelor and Ryan promising Maelor would exist.

the following season they never intent to follow his story btw.

This is conversation of the definition and parameters of "adaptation", but first, GRRM was basically giving us an extended....not metaphor but an extended parallel of what he [the guy who wrote this story for anyone to adapt or not] thinks are the most important elements of the story; and he chose dragon legs likely bc it was one of the most incentivizing amongst many fandoms, he takes great pride in his reasoning for those legs; he wishes to express to his/the show's fans an arm of care and relation towards changes eh doesn't think production or execs should or had to cut or distort BEFORE he he heard of HBO's plans to produce it and when he met with the producers/Condal about it.

Because--before that ill-fated post--from how GRRM writes abt HotD, even when he's positive, it gives off the impression that he's never in the actual writer's room despite how many fans argued that he was and had to have been as an exec producer (that must have been awkward for those fans upon seeing GRRM demonstrate how wrong that notion was). If he's not in the writer's room or has proper authority, all he can really do is sit back and watch the product...maybe a little earlier tha most, but still, he's not involved and he's reacting and thinking about the show.

Anyway, what, anon, do you think entails an adaptation "following" a story? How closely or far from the original plot would you say is "too far", when it finally becomes something that is not the actual story anymore but an invention by those who want to make a completely different story? And does this actually sound like an adaptation? Or a fanfic?

Definitions:

adaptation: a composition rewritten into a new form, or to fit a different medium; a screen adaptation of a novel fanfic: stories written about TV, film, or book characters by their fans (= people who admire them); stories formed from existing, usually published material with a plethora/array of possible interpretations of the source materials present themes, characterizations, etc./the purpose of creating fan material for the sake of personal enjoyment

HotD was always going to be more fanficy sorta thing bc it is a hotly debated section of a history book IN YERMS OF THR MIST INTIMATE OF RVENTS AND DETAILS BETWEEN CHARACTERS; however, like what historians and history books have always tried to do and continue to do so, F&B is container if actual firsthand records as eell as secind hand. There ARE more probable and likely options of situations the history book creates for us to....not "solve" but piece out when it comes to possible biases, and some claims by some narrators are very easy to mark as false.

And what you piece out will be very much a reflection of how you view certain behaviors, characters, ideas, AS WELL AS you actual knowledge of what inspires GRRM, why it does, why we care abt those things (I'm talking real history) what the lore of the world Rhaenyra and the rest are in. I'm talking laws, how some people view some of them and how they will twist them to their own emds. And most of all, as I already said, somethings without a doubt...precisely bc it i IS a history book, happened. And some of those need NEED to be on screen for the end to make any sort of sense the way it was intended to.

But I also think he's hopeful abt Ryan making some script changes from his very rare assertiveness.

I also think that this is all part of a reckoning with the different degrees people are willing to tolerate the "inventive" adaption that really changes the source material that many have not actually read or understood; some want the adaptation to match as close as possible to the orig (a lot of book readers), other don't care how far away the story gets from the org, others are in an undefined but just as variant "middle".

[hellfireconfessions]

Hey there, is Guri here. You may know me from years or unfortunately for all the drama before HF shutdown. All this situation is getting a lot put of hand for me, and I wanted to reach out here in order to explain what happened on my side ( if anything is worder incorrectly, please let me know, English is not my first language.)

Ok, so... About the doc. Some people may have read it already, and may not know what it means because the wording wasn't the better but I'll give some context. It was a story from a villain character POV on their abussive relationship with other character, both of the characters are from my creation. "Did the doc contained grooming?" No, both characters are adults. The villain character met the other character once when it was small and then didn't met each other after the other one was adult. "Did the doc had sexual content?" No, the "love bites" were a trait I gave to my characters subspecies, but since the character in question was a villain, the bites used to happen a lot more than usual. "Did the doc had zoophilia?" no, both characters are animals. "Did the doc had non-con/rape?" No, all the doc is basically the villain saying that they love biting the second character and that they love the taste of the blood. "What does the [ But she had a body I can't recall her to have] then?" the original concept of the character was a normal bipedal Utahraptor with some feathers, later was revamped to a quadrupedal more "cat-like" creature. That line meant that the character used to remember the other as s feathered normal Utahraptor, and now that they are adults, seeing her as a completely new creature with different features is weird. "What does [ swollen womb] means?" pregnancy, thought it would be another way to say it. The doc had a trigger warning on the very top and was censored entirely, to ensure the safety of sensitive readers. But many people ignored it.

I haven't groomed anyone, I'm not a pedophile, I'm not a zoophile. My characters does not define me, I'm sorry if anyone has felt uncomfortable with the doc. I truly thought that putting a warning and censoring it would be fine. The server in which was posted was a +17 server, which a few 16 years old members. No one has reached to me about the docs until noodles did on a report ticket, I got a final warning and got my pack rep removed and accepted the punishment. But aside from that, I haven't done anything. I would like to ask for the harassment and lies about me to stop, saying that im a pedophile, zoophile, that i promote incest, rape and other horrible things is not true, even I heard that some people were saying that they had proof of me grooming people and that there was a supposed victim. Of course, when you asked for the evidence, none was provided aside from the doc.

I been banned from server which I haven't played on, all for a doc that staff decided it was not banneable. Getting into my personal space and insulting my family is also not ok, while I won't blame the entire dentem et pluma pack even if the comments they made about me were horrible and I had never talked about them that way, one thing is insulting me as a player, other different is including my husband as Snail did. I make this announcement as an attempt for people to also see my side of things, that I am sorry for how everything took place and that even if horrible things were said towards me, I mean no ill intentions towards my aggressors that as long you didn't insulted my family. Guys, this is a dinosaur game, it's totally ok to not be friends with everyone but what is not ok is harassing, insulting and getting in the personal life of someone over a dino game. Stop the doxxing too, stop judging the private lives of members. If anyone would like to talk about what happened and have a fresh start/make amends. My DMs are always open.

normally i wouldnt approve but i dont know the exact details of what happened so ill let yall go at it

[witchersmistress]

Stolen by the monster part 4

hello my darling creatures!!! i have brought part 4 to you, it is under construction much like my rainstorm and hate sex series so if it is mismatching, im on my way to mend it. but in the mean time enjoy this portion.

Warning: my usual for this style!

word count: 2K

as a reminder, i do not give permission to use my stories or work without asking. if you do ill haunt you for the rest of your days...

Walking back to my office, it wasn't my intention to go that far with you but I was on a timeline, one that I wasn't eager to miss. My plans to ruin Ethan Hunt  were still the same but you being pregnant would just be icing on the cake. Imagine the look on his face when he learns that the daughter, he never met, was defined by the very monster he was meant to stop and you, being the sweet loving girl you are, would never get rid of that baby no matter what anyone told you. 

My balls ached with the thought of you swollen with my child. There was a small voice in the back of my head that was telling me that it was wrong to use you this way but I didn't care about that when you said that I could use you anyway to get back at your father. I lost control which is something I normally don't do.  Placing the sedative back into the safe I made my way to my bedroom, nothing out of its place, I walked into my ensuite bathroom, turning the shower on as the steam filled the room. I  went about my nightly routine, as I crawled into bed with my little black book. Trying to read and i couldnt focus on anything, my thoughts drifted back to you, knocked out in your bed, your thighs slick with my cum, fuck, your moans bouncing around in my head. My cock was at half mast and I could barely stand it. With a frustrated sigh I closed the book. Giving up on trying. Yanking the blankets off my legs, I swung them and stood.

Moving through the hallowed hall towards your room. Pushing the door open, I found you in the center of the bed. That cat of yours on a pillow, its yellow eyes glaring at me, that stupid creature. I moved closer to your dresser, opening drawers to find some kind of sleepwear for you. I'd be far too tempted if I left you naked. I may be a monster but that's a line I will not cross. Finding a plain spaghetti strapped black nightgown, I pulled it over your head, pulled each arm into each strap and pulled it down your lush body, stopping at your hips. I saw the dry cum on your thighs, walking to your ensuite bathroom. I grabbed a washcloth and ran it under the warm water, adding a small amount of soap. 

Walking back to your bed, I spread your thighs and cleaned up the mess I had left. I never regretted my actions of taking you from your home, and keeping you captive, even trying to force you to carry my child. I regret that I lost control.  wiping the soft flesh of your lush thighs, you let out a soft moan. 

Drying your thighs and grabbing you a pair of underwear and shimmied them up your hips, giving your ass a gentle squeeze, as i went to pull the night gown down i say the tell tale signs of bruises forming, fuck you bruise easily. You could see the outline of my hands forming on your hips.  Pulling the duvet backup and 

 laying on the other side of you and pulling you closer to me. Pressing your back to my front, your warmth spreading across me, I feathered kisses across your shoulder blades as you snuggled close. “Your going to be the death of me little one” i made eye contact with that cat on your pillow, it was purring and was watching me. That damn creature. Ignoring it as we settled in. Tucking a long strand of your hair behind your ear, you rolled over and pressed your face into my chest and gave me a few kisses before settling back into a deep sleep. Suppressing a groan deep in my chest, laying on my back and pulling you with me. Goddamn you really will be my downfall.

Your POV

I felt unusually warm, and a heavy weight on my mid section. Cracking open an eye, I looked up to see Jess looking at me, “Hi sweet baby” reaching out a hand to pet her. She rolled over and showed me her belly. Someone shifted behind me, I rolled over carefully to come face to face with August. I jumped back a little. What in the actual fuck was that man doing in my bed. He still had an arm wrapped around me. I lazily drew a finger across his exposed pecks, tracing the scars he had, this particular one,  I think was from the fuel burn from my father, in his attempt to stop August.  he was built like that dude from the witcher. A grumble vibrated deep in his chest, “What are you looking at, little one?” while i fumbled with my words, he quickly shifted, and pulled me underneath him as he settled between my thighs. “Curiosity killed the cat you know.” he stated as he nipped at the soft flesh of my tender breasts. I gave him a small smile and tried to wiggle my way out from underneath him. 

      Hissing as he settled more of his weight on my lower half. My abdomen coils and throbs from the pain settling and his weight on me. Showing the displeasure and discomfort in my face, August cocked an eyebrow as he moved off me. I slid off the bed and tried to make my way to the ensuite bathroom. “Sweet girl what's wrong” his big hand encircled my wrist stopping me from going “August, i don't feel well” he looked me up and down before settling on my legs and his eyes grew wide. I looked down and saw the blood running down my leg. “Verdammt” I hissed, my body sometimes can just be a wicked bitch. He was up and out of bed before I could speak, he grabbed a dark towel from the bathroom and folded it before placing it back on the bed. “Sit” he said, it wasn't a suggestion. 

Still at the door, he says, “A bath is waiting for you. Take your clothes off and I’ll be in shortly.” When he closes the door, I do as I’m told, skating my fingers along the wood as I make my way into the bathroom. In the center is a free-standing bath with shiny claw feet. Breathing in deep, I strip and step into the warm pool of water as steam drifts from the rippling surface and hangs in the surrounding air. Sinking down into its depths, the water rising to just over my breasts, I lean my head back on the lip and close my eyes. The warmth and buoyancy lessen the pain in my abdomen. I hum my enjoyment. Hazing through my mind are sparring emotions, wanting to both be in awe and love but also curl up in silence until I don’t feel so raw about everything that has transpired. “You’re a survivor,” I mutter to myself. It is not long before I hear the wooden door rattle on the hinges as it opens, and footsteps move in that graceful, measured way that only August Walker can pull off with a six-foot-one physique. “You do not have to do this,” I say, opening my eyes and sitting up to find him pulling a chair over to the bathtub. He is still in his dark pj bottoms, still shirtless revealing cords of veins, curves of muscles.

“I know, sweet girl.” He picks up a loofa and lathers it with soap scented like coconut before brushing it gently down my shoulders and chest. I shake my head in amusement, I can't quite figure this man out.. As he washes me, I can’t stop noticing how I used him as a scratching post and how he has more evidence of our steamy night than even me. I reach out and grab his forearm, inspecting the gashes that would have wept with blood. He holds still, letting me look. “You look like a feral cat attacked you.” “A sweet little wolf, actually,” he says, his voice deeper, more gravely, while afflicted with fatigue. I presume he hadn't slept long before i woke him

 It’s an incredibly sexy sound; sleepy August Walker. Gruff. Husky. Yummy. “A stray wolf,” I mutter, releasing his forearm. His hand dips, breaching the warm surface, sinking to cup my abdomen.

 Even as tiredness moves in waves through his irises, they are no less controlled, no less attentive. “Is that self-deprecating behavior going to return?” he says. “I thought we were making progress. Do you need a repeat of what happened a few days past” His hoarse tone, wrapped in sleepy huskiness, reaches deep inside me. I still think about the sting as he spanked me.I shook my body, sending waves of sensation to my already beating clit. Then I remember the way I felt in the wake of that moment. The subtle burn. A feeling of safety. Accountability. The way I trusted him that little bit more... “Do you think I need it, Sir?” He strokes my empty abdomen as though his tenderness can fix the hollowing of my womb. “Perhaps. Are you cramping?” “It feels better in the water.” He lowers his hands and massages my thighs, deep tissue pressure that loosens and comforts. He’s strong, dominant in the way he touches me, but in no way rough or overstimulating. My eyes bat close, and I melt beneath the meticulous hands of the most intense, dangerous, and beautiful man I have ever met. 

While his hands slowly work around my entire body, he talks to me. “When I say you belong to me and that I will take care of you, this is what I mean. You are not a stray. You are owned. I warned you once to tell me to stop. I warned you what it meant to belong to me... True, I didn’t plan on keeping you then. I do now. There will be times when you hate me. For what I have to do. I am sure of it. That will change nothing between us. I want you to know that if you try to leave, I will hunt you down. I want you to find comfort in the fact that you have no choice. You are mine. Because ever since I laid eyes on you, sweet girl, that is the only place they have wanted to be.”

I look at him. Moaning as he palms my breasts gently, I feel my nipples pebbling against his palm. “You will hunt me down, Sir? Why would I want to leave?” 

“I am a sinful man.” 

“A dangerous man,”

 I agree, pridefully, without a hint of care for the rest of the world. I swallow hard. “I wish I was a dangerous person.” A grin coasts across his lips. “My affections for you make you the most dangerous girl in the country,” he states seriously, and I exhale, a flitter of contentment moving into my chest, finding comfort in his darkness. It is potent, that flitter, spreading out like stems, curling into each cell. I remember my mother talking about reincarnation. About how we turn into a vibrant, uninhibited butterfly after this harsh existence as a weak, humble caterpillar.  But I don’t want to wait until I am dead to experience my own reincarnation. I want it right now. In a cocoon of August Walker. I hope that in my second life, I am a monarch butterfly. 

They are graceful. 

Beautiful. 

And poisonous.

[peach-the-owl]

First post of NPC month! Woooooo!!! Let’s hope I can keep the ball rolling 😅

Hunger

Avantica & Child!Reader

For anyone familiar with the Little Nightmares games, reader is somewhat similar to Six from the first game

Ability gained: +1 to Strength

Fire spread fast across the village, you paid little mind to the distant screams while you stare down the parasite that thought it a good idea to cross you… well more like former parasite, as the man’s corpse still stares at you with terror in its dulled eyes while you wiped the blood off your mouth. You weren’t the cause of the fire, as much as you would’ve liked to, no, someone else decided to cause havoc to the village and you were sure you’d take advantage of the opportunity. A shadow looms behind you, slowly you turn to face its owner, not a shred of fear present on your face.

“My my, well aren’t you just the savage little monster.” The woman smirks at you.

“I’m not a monster,” you state blankly, “I’m a kid.”

“No child I’ve ever seen can rip a mans throat out with their teeth so easily.” She points out before adding. “Nor has anyone ever been so calm in my presents. Do I not scare you?” You raise an eyebrow at this.

“Should I be?” You answer her question with your own. Her smirk only grows at this.

“I think you and I are going to get along real nicely…”

~~~~~~~~~~

You did what you do best below deck, pest control, chasing down any pests and reaching into the smaller nooks and crannies to get at them. It was easy work for you by now, having been stuck with Avantica for about a year and half now, going along with her delusions of power. You didn’t care much for the patron she worshiped, this Uk’otoa creature not really striking your interest despite her obsessive ramblings over it, sure you’ve been play along, but that doesn’t mean you had to like it. The cellar door opens and several sets of footsteps are heard making their way down, you hear Avantica’s voice amongst them and you knew what this meant, she wanted to make an example to whoever these, possibly newcomers were. You’re theory that they were newcomers was proven correct, you’ve never seen a group so colourful and odd before, but curious of them as you were you sat back and waited for your cue, perfect timing too as that familiar gnawing in your gut makes itself known.

“If I may be so kind to ask, why bring us down here?” The half-orc questions

“Some have come to me with… ill intent. I wish to show that I myself, as well as my crew are not people to be trifled with.” Avantica explains, giving you the small signal to make yourself known. You step forward, close enough so this group could see you but keep enough distance away from them to stay out of their reach. You stare them all down, taking in the shocked expressions, sizing each of them up. The blue one steps towards you, her first mistake.

“Oh my gosh, hi! Are you okay? Are you hurt?” She asks, looking at you concerned, she misjudges and underestimates you, her second mistake.

“I’m hungry…” You say blankly, noticing the goblin stepping closer as well.

“Here! It’s a bit crumbly, but I have this pastry you can eat.” She says cheerily reaching towards you, her third and biggest mistake.

“That won’t be good enough.” You say, tone never shifting away from being emotionless. “You’ll do just fine.” She barely processes what you said before you bite into her shoulder, she screams in shock and pain the others with her prying you off of her, but not before you rip off a decent piece of her flesh. The tiefling stumbles back, clutching at where you bit her, a look of horror on her face as you stare back at her while swallowing the fresh meat, wiping some blood away with your wrist. There’s a surge of energy that courses through you then out of you, you look yourself over for a second before looking beside you at the darkened and slightly unstable silhouette of yourself, guess with a lack of a deity this new ability couldn’t reach its fullest potential, not that you cared so long as it still does it’s job.

“What did I tell you,” Avantica laughs, “not to be trifled with.”

Ability gained: Invoke Duplicity

~~~~~~~~~~

Evening approached which meant you were free to roam the ship without the crew getting in the way, though with the gnawing coming back, this being the fastest it’s ever re-emerged, you wished at least one forgetful soul stuck around. But then again you had some new treats, and a new skill, to play with…

The ship creaked as it swayed with the waves, the eerie silence otherwise didn’t sit well with Beau as she sits up from her sleeping area and surveys the room. Something about the atmosphere felt off as she gets up, the floor boards creaking under her as she shifts and moves around. She carefully steps as quietly as possible to the door, poking her head out into the hall, where upon sensing no immediate danger she fully steps out of the room. The boat sways subtly against the waves almost like it’s trying to lull her back to sleep, the harsh creak of the floorboards pulling out of such a mindset. To her left the hall was dark and empty, to her right what little moonlight shone down the hall was partially blocked by a figure standing as still as a statue.

“Damn kid…” Beau mutters under her breath, wanting nothing to do with whatever they were doing. She stares at the silhouette feeling them stare back at her. “What do you want, you little freak.” She hisses through clenched teeth, that’s when you let your little illusion drop, the duplicate’s silhouette shattering into pieces as you approach.

“I’m not a freak,” you say, as monotonous as ever, “I’m worse.” You manage to step back and avoid the strike Beau throws, using the moment to grab her arm and bite into it. She shouts in pain, reeling her arm away from you and quickly clutching tightly to the wound, but you already got what you needed, feeling a surge of energy rush through you, jabbing it out at her sending her to her knees. You disappear into the darkness down the hall as the others from her group stir to investigate.

Ability gained: Stunning Strike

~~~~~~~~~~

“How lucky you are.” Avantica chuckles ominously. “You finally get to relieve your sea legs for a bit.” She was, of course, referring to your mission on Urukayxl. You knew the only reason she even wanted you there was to gain power for her advantage, at least that’s how she worded it. She was never one to tiptoe around her true intentions with you, your purpose, the reason she decided to keep you alive was solely to benefit herself, and you fully knew about it. On the other hand, you yourself had secret intentions you kept quiet about, just waiting patiently for the perfect moment, and if you were being honest, since the arrival of this Mighty Nein group you’ve felt that perfect moment drawing closer and closer.

“Can’t wait to get started.” You say as blandly as ever.

“Good. Now why don’t you go inform our new recruits we’ll be arriving soon.” You nod and turn to make your leave. “One more thing,” she quickly adds, “while you’re at it, if you could tell their ‘captain’ I’d like word with him.” Again, you nod in acknowledgement and leave her quarters to find said group…

“How exactly do we plan on dealing with that psycho child around?” Beau paces the room, unconsciously touching the scar you’d left her.

“With Avantica watching us like a hawk, can’t say there’s much we can do.” Fjord sighs, glancing over at Jester who, while was doing better, still shivered at the thought of their first encounter with you. “We’ll just need to tread carefully.”

“Who’s treading carefully?” You ask suddenly appearing behind him, causing the half-orc to jump away from you with a yelp of surprise. You look at him unfazed. “You’re not planning against the captain, are you?” You give a slight tilt to your head in minor curiosity.

“W-what? No! We were just saying how it’s best to tread carefully… around the crew. You know, s-so we don’t get in anyone’s way. Right guys?” They mumble rather unconvincing responses but you could honestly care less what they were doing.

“Captain says we’ll be arriving soon, and for captain Tusktooth to see her.” You deliver the message and leave before any of them have a chance to respond. You make your way down the hall when you hear someone approach from behind making you pause to turn towards them. “Can I h help you?” You stare down the goblin woman.

“I got my eye on you, kid. So you best watch your back if you try hurting anymore of my friends.” She threatens, you simply give her a hollow stare.

“Okay.” You start, a familiar gnawing beginning to form, it has been a few day since your last… episode. She turns to leave, her mistake. “Maybe you should be more concerned watching your own back.” She whips around at this but you’ve already disappeared from your original position, watching as the goblin panics while looking every which way. You felt the gnawing grow ever so slightly but held off on the urge, you’d have your chance soon. Urukayxl was going to be quite the interesting trip…

Haha! Cliffhanger! I’m so evil 😈 In all seriousness I will, eventually, get to making a part 2. Anyways, hope you still enjoyed, let me know what you think 😁

[darkscorpiox]

What would Kisara be like as Kaiba’s lover

Warning: very, VERY long post, sorry 😅

Her qualities

First, Kaiba would never date someone unless Mokuba was comfortable with said person. So every characteristic presented below are the ones he would appreciate concerning the safety of his little brother.

Graciousness

Kaiba’s cynicism would make him question the integrity of someone’s intentions, so it wouldn’t be easy for Kisara to prove to him her genuine good nature. If she treats Mokuba kindly because she sincerely cares about him and/or because it’s the right thing to do, it’ll suffice for Kaiba to trust her to some degree (I guess to the level of Yuugi and his friends whom it took Duelist Kingdom and the Battle City Tournament before he started to accept them in his social circle…begrudgingly).

Determination

I don’t know about you guys, but I believe Kaiba has some respect, however small (not that he’ll ever admit it), for people who refuse to stay down (e.g.: Joey…at least in the Japanese version of the anime). In the anime, Kisara had run miles across a desert to find Priest Seto and save him from his father, showing how determined she is to help her loved ones, no matter whom or what she must go against, just like Kaiba for Mokuba. Said trait is tied to the next one.

Protectiveness

As the vassal of the Blue-Eyes White Dragon, she carries the power a young Seto wished he had had to not rely on corrupted people like his relatives and Gouzaburou to survive. Kaiba would have wanted her on his side, even more so if it’s for the safety of Mokuba. At the same time, though she can unleash her dragon whenever she wants to (at least in the anime), she doesn’t do so unless the need requires it, meaning when the people she cares about are put in harm’s way. For that purpose, Kisara gives her all, leaving literally nothing of the perpetrators of said position behind. Kaiba may not like being protected because it can be implied that he’s dependant on someone and thus, weak. At the same time, in the deepest part of his heart, I think he would be glad someone has his back without ulterior motive.

Devotion

Choosing to spiritually bind herself to the first person who had showed her kindness for three millenniums and continuing to do so no matter how deep said person has fallen speaks volume of her loyalty. For the Kaiba brothers who had been hurt, both physically and emotionally, by the people around them, Kisara’s unconditional support would have meant so much for them.

Her flaws

Many Kisara fans (me included) believe Kaiba should worship her like the goddess she is. However, it takes two to make a relationship work (or more if polyamorous). Kisara may appear more stable minded than Kaiba, but I believe she has her own set of flaws and issues.

Distrustfulness

Like Kaiba, Kisara had suffered at the hands of ill-intentioned people and while she chose to not turn her back on humanity (in the anime), she didn’t give her trust easily, not even to Priest Seto who had once saved her life. Her dragon is also another reason to distance herself from others. In these modern times, monsters are myths and cities more densely populated than millennia ago, so she would have to be careful about displaying her power. Not only the magnitude of civilian casualties and property damages would be astronomical, but if people found out about it, she would either end up ostracized (or more than before) or used by others (her beloved Priest Seto even being an example of the latter). What keeps her from developing a me vs. the world mentality and becoming a female Kaiba is her desire to believe in the good of others. Even if the entire world looks down on her, as long as one person good toward her exists, her faith in humanity won’t waver. It might take some time to warm up to others, but she is not bad enough to unleash her dragon on anyone just because of a lack of trust or because they made her unhappy. Only a dire situation requires her to do so (e.g.: a loved one in danger, the world being at risk). However…

Possessiveness

Dragons are possessive creatures (e.g.: treasure, princess), so I believe Kisara can display that trait to some degree. As someone who has rarely known kindness, if not ever, her whole life, she would become possessive of its source(s). I wouldn’t be surprised if her protectiveness of the Kaiba brothers would occasionally come off as that. I would find it ironic if Kaiba were annoyed by that when he wasn’t any better with his BEWD cards. Speaking of the Blue Eyes…

Self-degradation

Everyone knows Kaiba adores the dragon to the point of obsession and possessiveness. Maybe Kisara would have been relieved since most would have only feared and hated it. However, I think she would have also felt insecure on some level about it. How much of his feelings for her are because of her dragon? What if he only loves it and not her? While Kaiba is Priest Seto’s reincarnation, the latter was the one who loved Kisara, whether she possessed the Blue Eyes or not, while the former was attracted to its power only. In the manga, it is implied she has only known abuse her whole life, to the point of accepting death without any resistance when it seems like there was no way out for her. She also finds out that a “monster” resides within her and believes it is the reason behind everything going wrong around her, worsening her low self-worth. The one time someone has treated her with the bare minimum of decency has been to fulfill his agenda (or that has been the plan at the beginning). Just for that one act of courtesy though, she had given her dragon and thus, her life, her everything, to her. While Kisara is kind and selfless enough to care about others, some of that goodness stems from a lack of self-worth. I think this is her worst flaw. How far would she go for someone she cares about? We know she can kill for Priest Seto, so a lot. Kaiba would not be above taking advantage of her loyalty to achieve his goals. At the same time, Kisara possesses a sense of right and wrong, and wants Priest Seto to not succumbed to the darkness. If she is as determined to do the right thing as to protect her loved ones, then the relationship won’t be too imbalanced.

@kaibacorpdork @kisara-kaiba @sapphira-mydnyte​ @kisaraslover

[retphienix]

I really, really enjoy this morose ending.

A narrative that was implied from the word go, yet didn't become understood until it was nearing its end, for me at least.

Because they really don't hide from the facts at any point. Sure, the general populace of fear filled people often imply you're helping, but each boss drops hints matter-of-factly that you are ending each zone entirely, with the later bosses making it not just clear, but understood.

It does make me curious on why the three bosses don't seem to directly recognize the Batter, or anyone else for that matter, with the Queen and the child being the "lords" of this entire world (Son more than Queen, but Queen as a figurehead created by the Son's lingering need for his lost mother) both imply that the Batter is the Son's Father.

For all intents and purposes you'd expect the world to have some lingering theme of a hated King perhaps; Since this world is seemingly constructed from the Son's wishes and the hands of the three bosses, you'd expect the Son's resentment towards his father would manifest the same way his longing for his mother did? With everyone recognizing the Batter in some way-

but knowing what I DO know from beating off (not gonna stop saying it), I'd suspect the various opaque parts of the story not being laid out plainly are due to its own love of the mystique it offers its strange world.

And that intentional lack of information probably left me out of a beat here and there that would explain where the Batter does "fit in".

Perhaps he is the father in the flesh; Or perhaps he is the repressed idea of the father clawing back to the front. The Batter is somehow the biggest mystery in terms of origin, purpose, and- I suppose- state of matter (a phantom himself? The honest and true father? The child's work? One of the 3 bosses work? The Queen's work? be that THIS Queen or the ORIGINAL mother)

I mean, from the start the Judge isn't convinced you aren't a phantom- and towards the end you find out Phantoms are the dead, so maybe the Father shows up as the Batter in this world because the Father died. And if that's the case that opens a whole additional can of worms for what that means for the Son in his Room.

And perhaps, while we see glimpses of a world controlled by the doodling imagination of the Son, everyone is oblivious to the Batter's identity because they were crafted by the three bosses- whom seem to have known the mother, but I don't recall them ever mentioning the father- only the Son references him.

So maybe the obliviousness of everyone up until you meet the Queen is due to the Batter being an erased secret- something the "gods" in charge of each zone simply never knew?

Or maybe another route is why- and I should stop trying so hard to explain things using in-universe understandings when that universe has already been deleted.

With the pills being the smoking gun for why everything is so strange. With the entire world being in the child's head, our identity being a repressed thought against his current reality as he has grown to hate his father and this seclusion his illness has put him into, and the entire thing is explained from the perspective of the child's mind running frantic on its hamster wheel.

The three bosses are imaginary friends meant to justify to himself a sense of control as he doodles endlessly in his room. The Queen: his idealized version of his mother's memory. The Batter: a repressed idea of the father that has damned him to this seclusion. This says nothing of how the ending physically manifests in a world where the child is doodling rather than playing god, maybe it symbolizes death from his illness- with his repressed idea of his father being what he blames for each light being turned off on his death bed- or maybe I've gone too far into trying to blatantly explain a narrative I've consumed only once and I should step back to better take it in again.

Especially when that narrative itself is more fun to think on BECAUSE it's so opaque and unexplained in some ways.

The thing is- this whole uncertainty I'm left with surrounding the Batter goes right alongside other mysteries of the game, like Zacariah and the Judge's recognition of the player, or the existence of a player to begin with (narratively), or the in-universe recognition of this being a game- the fourth wall as a whole is a mystery for this narrative-

The thing is- all of that- is kinda what I'm LOVING about this game.

Just as the game itself, from a "grounded" perspective, is filled with unique, strange, and wonderfully off beat (beat off, gottem) characters, dialogue, and moments- and this strangeness is deeply appealing, and gives it such an entertaining air to it-

Just as it has that- the story it holds is breaking free from the conventional- these 4th wall bits- the player- what's left opaque even at the end- it all adds to that strangeness that's so delectable in this title. It's frosting on the cake, and I'm savoring it all~

To circle back from the overarching and back to the literal moment to moment for a second. I mentioned loving how morose this was and I thoroughly mean it. Not only is it earned. Not only is it a genuine emotional "payoff" for our journey- a journey repeatedly tainted by sadness and worry, that culminated in a player-realization of yet more sadness and worry- and capped with this ending of us watching the Judge wander a now desolate world- it's also left with the right amount of quiet and the right words to leave by.

The Judge saying he isn't doing this for a happy ending, but for the best satisfaction that can be attained from this horrible state- one where all has been erased, but the perpetrator still failed.

Excellent~ That followed by the few scenes of the Judge wandering, just excellent~

Oh! And the fucking true ending cracked me up.

Here I thought (and maybe it is!) that the true ending was me being given the choice between Judge and Batter, the shocking twist of the "True" ending was, if you'll allow me, a bat to the back of the head lol

10/10

Ah, and to close off, I reloaded and grabbed the Batter's Ending.

Between the two, and not just because it's the "good" ending, but rather because it's the "good" ending that's still entirely, 100% bad- I prefer Judges.

But.

The Batter's ending is still pretty damn succinct and strong.

While the Judge's ending left me with a perfectly poetic failed good ending that gave me plenty of pause (paws?) to think on and consider what I experienced.

The Batter's ending is like a cold close, a fantastic one. No scenic walk, no final lines about a grim victory.

The Batter just tells the Judge off for trying, walks to the switch, and turns it Off.

It's kind of beautifully done, but I stand by the Judge's morose close over the Batter's sudden darkness.

Well it took me ages but I finally beat off everybody~ 🎉

[rottmnt-hc]

Mikey's Babysitting Service

Remember the "Raph gets cuddley when having a growth spurt" prompt? Remember you voted for the 03 turtles? I honestly have no timeline in mind, maybe tribunal or not.

Since meeting their older counterparts, Leon and his brothers found dealing with their problems a lot easier.

Leonardo was training them, well mostly Leo, in their training. Teaching them things that he had to learn from when he was younger.

Raphael was mostly helping them with their emotions, both surprising and not surprising. To the younger, it seems all Raph's they met were emotional…to his brothers he was defaulted to "angry".

Donatello was surprisingly the gentlest of the brothers, toning down their own Donatello and teaching them a few tricks. (Leo's Raph made a comment about him being similar to Todd.)

Michelangelo was one they'll hold near and dear, not because he's Mikey, but because he seems to understand them better than anyone. He was the one to let Donnie go batshit but let's him know about limits.

For himself he was introduced to his Superhero friends, encouraging him to continue his comic.

Mikey was ecstatic about having another big brother, one that didn't treat him like a baby and also gave him his brother's point of view.

But Leo had to be grateful for Big Mike's efforts to his Raph, the younger brothers knew he could be just as unhinged as them when he wanted but to see it happen so easily.

Raph isn't the type to cause mischief but Big Mike usually brings it out of him and sometimes talk to him.

This makes Big Mike the most trustworthy of his brothers, which led to Leo's current predicament.

Raph was going through a growth spurt, the nerve! Like 6'8 wasn't tall enough!

Well, Raphie gets spacy and cuddled when this happens, but his loving brothers have things to do so they can't enjoy his lovely cuddling.

Big Mike agreed to watch him, but unbeknownst to Raphie's brothers, he never made it to his destination.

"What do you mean Raph never made it!?"

========

It was dark and everything felt different.

Raph was aware he went through a portal but he was supposed to be with their uncle counterparts.

It smelled like they were close but they also smelled different, like anxiety and fear.

Something sharp scraped across his shell causing him to pause, "Alright dude! Prepared to get your shell kicked!"

Oh! Uncle Mike! He sounds a bit off, maybe he feels weird too?

"Wow! Hey!" 

"MIKEY!" 

Oh his other uncles were here, this seems like a good spot for a nap. Oh! Splinter is giving him scritches.

========

"Mikey, what did you do!?" Raph seems pissed but actually very scared for his little brother.

"I swear I did nothing! You saw him appear the same time I did! But can I say, I never knew turtles can pur."

The old rat approached the large figure holding onto his youngest son's waist, sure enough this turtle was purring.

There was no ill intent, and they seem quite young. Too young for the amount of scarring on their body.

Splinter scratched their head, smiling as the purring grew louder and they leaned into the touch.

Master Splinter watched as his son relaxed under the giant child and soon join in the gentle petting, "Aw, he's just a little guy."

"Mikey, I love you but there is nothing little about this guy." Donatello approached, looking at the mysterious giant turtle.

Raphael and Leonardo both kept their hands on their weapons but since Sensei wasn't frightened that meant they were okay for now.

Splinter stopped before turning towards a corner of the lair, "Whoever you are, reveal yourself!"

"Chill out Sensei, I'm just here to pick up baby Raph." Everyone turned to see Michaelangelo, but he was different than their youngest being cuddled.

This Mikey was bigger and obviously stronger, old scars become visible at his approach.

He stopped at the new turtle who seemed to accept with a higher pitch purr and immediately latched onto him faster than anyone could comprehend.

"Oof! Yes, Yes, Hi Raphie. Come on, time to go." Against anything the four younger turtles believe in, Big Mike hefted Raphie on his shoulder.

"How-!?" "Wow!" "Are we that strong!?" "Careful!"

Big Mike sat down with Raphie's head in his lap, "Alright bros, while I get my ride, how about I answer certain questions?"

"You called him Baby Raph, what with that?" Good ole Raph starting with the facts.

"Bros, the Multiverse is real! He's a different version of Raphael, he's currently fifteen years old and the oldest of his brothers. My Raph has adopted them and I have never seen him go this soft."

Raph didn't seem to believe him but Big Mike pulled out his phone for them to see a picture.

It was when Raphie first pranked Raph, nobody suspected him, and Leon and both Mikey's got chased and tickled into submission.

The picture was Raph holding Little Mikey and Leon by the waist and reaching for him with a relaxed grin on his face.

Splinter seemed to melt at the sight as his younger self and brothers looked surprised, "Nobody believed us that It was Raphie but it was too glorious of a prank."

Little Leo looked at Mikey with hope, "Do we…get to be happy?"

Mike smiled at his younger older brother and nodded, "It'll be hard, there will be bumps, but I'd say we're pretty happy."

Donnie tilted his head, "How strong is everyone, my legs hurt just looking at him."

Mikey laughed at that, "Heck yeah dude, all our training and other training pays off. It also helps to use Chi sometimes."

Splinter nodded but him and his brothers looked confused, he didn't elaborate.

Big Mike turned to his younger self, "Any questions mini me?"

"Yeah, how did we meet other versions of us?"

"Bro, not gonna lie, it's gonna happen to you guys soon with different versions of us and it won't stop. The first group is annoying, even by my standards…but they weren't all that bad. We meet a lot of us's, but these guys are the youngest so far…and the most powerful."

Mini joined him in petting Raphie as his brothers relaxed, "So why is he all sleepy? Is he hurt?"

"Oh! Nah, he's fine. According to Leon, he's going through a growth spurt and gets like this. Which is both funny and adorable, especially since he just lays on the ones he trusts the most. Don't worry Raph, he would have tackled you to the ground if he hadn't smelled me first."

Mike let out a laugh at everyone's shocked faces, "He's getting bigger!?" "Why does he need to get bigger!?" "Wait, if he's only fifteen, does that mean he'd be twice as big later!?"

A familiar cackle erupted from the corner startling even Master Splinter, "I'm glad I'm not the only one reacting as such. Hamato Leonardo at your service, ready to go Uncle Mike?"

Splinter looks over to Big Mike as he hefted the larger turtle again, "Their Splinter asked Leo personally to keep an eye on them when we travel dimensions. They've taken to calling him "Mom" as a joke and it's gotten to the point where he answers to it, it's hilarious."

Leon open the portal as Big Mike approached, Michaelangelo had one more question though.

"Do we defeat Shredhead!?" Big Mike only winked and walked through the portal with Leon right behind him.

The next day Raphie managed to grow two whole feet! Though, he was nervous about it, no one (aside from the Hidden City Police) treated him differently.

He was their Raphie after all.

[igglemouse]

Episode 2 ~ Bound By Blood

"So why are you here?" Tullus asked, sure that she could indeed read minds. He was sure it wasn't completely clear to her, it usually never was. He knew his maker had explained it to him forever ago. She had told him to guard his thoughts, know what the other person wants from you and keep it from your mind. Her theory was that a mind reader can only pull thoughts they search for. Charlotte had been looking for his intentions towards Laverne and so she simply needed to spark a conversation about her sister to find the thought she was looking for.

"I love my big sister you know," she said as if it was a throwaway comment because it might as well be. Anyone that had seen the two interact knew there was a real bond between them. Tullus didn't need mind reading ability to know that was the truth. "I'm terrified of losing her.-

"You want me turn her," Tullus finished as it made sense. Charlotte was a dark princess and used to getting her way but Laverne was mortal, very mortal, and so she was at risk of simply dying. A car crash, an illness, some random event could end Laverne’s life.

"I wish she'd come to the decision willingly to be sure but sometimes we need others to make decisions for us. As father likes to say."

"Right..." Tullus wasn't sure he agreed but he didn't want to start an argument with her. "When I asked Count Tourneau for his blessing I told him that I planned on turning her as well. There is only so much you can get out of a human before you-"

"Break them," Charlotte finished as if she had known from experience. "Yes, that is true."

"Still, are you here to help me or..."

"I am just here to make sure you are someone she would be happy with. I'm here as a sister, truly and sincerely."

"Fair enough," Tullus could respect that. Out of everyone in the Tourneau family Charlotte was the most honest but he knew there was something deeper within her capable of doing anything to get what she wanted. "I do think I've made some ground with her."

"Oh?"

"First she said one date only and she seemed to mean it but....but I've managed to see her several times. Chat with her, get to know her better. I'm just looking for that chance to really break through with her."

"Well, Tullus, she'll never accept you because she hates what she's been born into," Charlotte started. "She'll have to be turned before ever seeing you as an option-"

"Yes but-"

"Don't worry, it’s a matter of time, Sir Cinna. She is bound by blood and bound by clan. She was born a vampire and as such is forever meant to be one, whether she wants to admit to it or not..."

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