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#we're all part of the same empire!
optimizim · 11 months
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what if your invader zim oc? and my invader zim oc? were best friends? or perhaps interacted in any tangible way?
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david-talks-sw · 3 months
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I'd say where the dissonance really starts, when it comes to the portrayal of the Jedi in more recent Star Wars stories, is the perception of what the Prequels are about.
They're not about the Jedi.
George Lucas said over and over that they're about:
How a democracy turns into a dictatorship, we see this in the background of the films, as the Republic descends into becoming the Empire.
That first theme is then paralleled with a second theme: how a good kid becomes a bad man. We see this in the more character-driven and personal exploration of Anakin’s fall to the Dark Side.
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The Prequels’ focus is on Anakin and the Republic, these films are not primarily about the fall of the Jedi. In fact, I’d argue they aren’t about the Jedi at all!
And when you look at the original backstory, you’ll notice that it also primarily focuses on:
The political subplot of the Republic’s downfall and Palpatine becoming the Emperor.
Anakin’s turn and his betrayal of the Jedi. 
So, there too… the Jedi themselves aren’t really that big a part of the Prequels’ original idea. They aren't mentioned much, beyond their trying to save the Senate and getting wiped out.
The Star Wars movies aren't about the Jedi, they're about Anakin and Luke, they're about Obi-Wan and Padmé and Han and Leia, the Rebellion vs the Empire, the fall of the Republic.
They're not about Ben and Yoda and Mace and Ki-Adi and Plo Koon and Shaak Ti and Luminara.
Just like Harry Potter isn't about Dumbledore and McGonagall. Just like the Lord of the Rings isn't about Gandalf.
On a functional level, the Jedi are:
POV characters who witness the events unfold with their hands tied, they're our anchors, whose eyes we see through to see democracy crumble into dictatorship.
Embodiments/vectors of the message George Lucas wanted to get across through these movies, which is the conflict between selfishness & selflessness, greed & compassion (Sith & Jedi).
But that's about it.
However, if you ask today’s fans and Star Wars creatives, most will say the Prequels are about the fall of the Jedi Order.
This is a take shared by a big chunk of the fandom, including various filmmakers, authors, and executives involved with Star Wars, so much so that the time period the Prequel films cover has now been redubbed by Lucasfilm as the “Fall of the Jedi era”.
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Which leaves us with a question... why? Why the dissonance?
My guess? It's because the Jedi are cool. They're awesome.
And deep down, they wanted the Prequels to be about the Jedi. About the Jedi Knights at their height, errant warriors like the Knights of the Round Table.
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And they didn't get that. They got a bunch of diplomats serving a political institution. And that didn't make sense, right? That's not what they expected so it's bad. And it's Star Wars. It's Lucas. It can't be bad, right? So like... what were they missing?
Oh... wait... what if... that's the point? That the Jedi were supposed to be Knight Errants and being guided by the Force instead of like - ew - space ambassadors for the Republic. Yeah now it all makes sense.
The Jedi in the Prequels aren't what we wanted them to be and that's their failure! Like, it's not just that I didn't like them because they weren't likeable to me, it's that I'm not supposed to like them because the narrative totally says so--
-- it doesn't.
The Jedi preach and practice the same Buddhist values as George Lucas, mirroring what he says in interviews almost verbatim.
The relationship between Obi-Wan and Anakin/Qui-Gon mirrors the dynamic between Lucas and Coppola.
The designs of the Jedi and their temple had to be toned down because they looked too bureaucratic and systemic.
This is Lucas we're talking about. "On the nose" is his middle name. He named the drug-peddling sleazebag "Elan Sleazebaggano." He ditched an elaborate introduction of General Grievous in exchange for just "the doors slide open, in walks Grievous and he's ugly."
If he had really been hell bent on framing the Jedi as elitist squares who lost their way and were mired in bureaucracy, he would've made them and the Jedi Temple look like the authorities in THX-1138.
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They weren't likeable to some fans because, well, they weren't developed or shown as much as someone like Anakin. Because it's not about them. It's not their story. It's Anakin's. It's Luke's. It's their respective friends'. Or maybe it's an adversity to "perfect goody two-shoes" characters (which the Jedi are not). But hey, it's a movie for kids. Some 2-dimensionality is forgivable.
Bottom line, had more time been spent on the Jedi, had Lucas made the Prequels into a limited show and give them a whole subplot, had he decided to do away with the 30s serial dialog and let someone else write the dialog, maybe the reception might've been different.
But that's what we got. And guess what it's fine.
It's more than fine, it's fucking awesome.
I proudly and confidently say that I love the Prequels, with and without The Clone Wars.
I love my space monks, I love that they're diplomat wizards, I love that there's such a variety of them, I love that Mace is a no-bullshit guy who genuinely cares about his fellow Jedi and how screwed the Republic is, and Yoda is wise and kind but also a gremlin weirdo who'll embarass you in front of a classroom full of kids, and Ki-Adi has a penis for a head, is constantly calm and yet goes down like a champ even though they take him by surprise. I love that Shaak Ti can kung fu an army full of Magna Guards and still have the energy to charge at Grievous. I love that Obi-Wan is a sass machine who is also hilariously oblivious to the fact that he's just as terrible as Anakin.
They're awesome even if they're not perfect. They're awesome because they're not perfect.
But the movies are not really their story.
They're Anakin's. They're Luke's. They're the Republic's and the Rebellion's. And the fight against a space Nazi emperor/empire.
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jaylver · 4 months
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THE FIVE YEAR DEAL — P.JS
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synopsis: having to deal with a four year long situationship was hard enough in the first place, but when your favourite situationship texted you on a random night after a year of no contact, it was a much harder scenario than imagined. what happens when he brings up that old pact you made about getting married in 5 years and you start rekindling a relationship that was lost?
pairings: non-idol!jay x afab!reader
genre: ex-situationship to friends to lovers, second chance romance, angst, romance, pining
warning(s): profanities, drinking and partying, slight violence
wc: 6.5k
a/n: after a month of not posting, here's a very very belated jay fic that was meant to be for his birthday (scream). please leave a feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated! muah xx
masterlist | © jaylver all rights reserved.
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Park Jong Seong was your roman empire. There, you actually said it.
He was a thought that constantly hovered in your mind from time to time. Whether he was a ghost that lingered to haunt you or a sweet thought that remained, you couldn't tell. All you knew was that he had changed your life for the better and the worst.
A lesson you'd often tell others is to never get yourself involved in a situationship, worse if it's with your best friend. Unfortunately, you were speaking from experience which involved Jay, your ex situationship slash best friend. Look how you and him eventually turned out.
An almost four year long situationship with Jay that took an absolute toll on you had ended the year before. You agreed on no contact with him after, trying to create a peaceful life without him out of your life, yet it was entirely impossible when you shared mutual friends that reminded you of your good times with him even though he wasn't around. 
You hate to admit it, but losing a person who was your best friend cut deep into your gut and heart combined. It was, at least, for the better. That was something your friends told you that you gradually recited in your head. It wasn't very effective, however. You still thought about him, quite often actually. But you supposed that was the haunting and painful part of having a relationship with someone that was almost a lover but never became one. 
It was the same exact night you were thinking about him when a text appeared on the homescreen of your phone. You stared at the notification for God knows how long, debating if your lack of sleep was finally catching up to you. The contact name was unmistakable, there it was, Jay's text. Jay, your Jay? 
The strength you had trying to act casual, but in reality, you were dying internally. The hold that man has on you was unimaginable. 
jjong: you up?
you: ?
jjong: did you delete my number?
If only he knew, he would've probably laughed. You never deleted his number, nor did you even change his contact name. His name constantly stuck out in the list of contacts, just like the memories of him in your head.
you: no, i didn't. what i meant was why are you texting me at 2 am?
jjong: i thought of something, something we said four years ago
you: okay …?
jjong: you said if we're both still  single in five years, we should get married
you: you took that seriously?
jjong: should i not have?
you: dumbass, i was tipsy
jjong: you didn't say that when i brought it up after you were sober
you: it's stupid
jjong: it's not. come on, y/n, can we please start afresh? i miss you.
He missed you?  
jjong: i'm serious. can we please meet up?
you: you swear you're not going to pull something?
jjong: no?? the most i'll do is pull out an engagement ring but who knows
you: cut the crap, jay 
jjong: don't act like that didn't make you giggle even the slightest
jjong: meet me downtown. the usual place we go to :)
How could he act so nonchalant when bringing up the past? The usual place that you haven't been to after cutting contact with him was something he still recalled, but to you, it was a place you avoided up until now. 
It was hard to sleep when your mind was filled with thoughts of him, except this time, instead of missing him, you dreaded him and the part where you're going to meet him for the first time in a year. What was he going to say? 
The wish you wished upon the lone star that night was for Jay to finally set his feelings and emotions clear. But whether it will come true or not, the truth will soon befall on you.
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The day you planned to meet Jay was a cloudy one. It was likely a foreshadow, but you chose to ignore the overthinking you constantly did.
You were the first one there in the cafe, specifically sitting at that table by the corner which you and Jay usually hogged. Being there early due to mostly the anxiety, you got to calm your nerves down and prepare yourself to face Jay. 
It shouldn't be hard to meet someone you already knew, but why did it feel that way? The unspoken feelings and those that were left hanging, unaddressed, was what haunted the both of you. You supposed this meet up with him would hopefully change that the slightest bit. All you hoped for was that he didn't become a stranger to you.
You failed to realise his approaching figure as you were sitting with your back facing the entrance, it was your usual spot anyway. Not to mention, his footsteps were quiet as ever, a thing about him that was unchanging. 
"Y/N," you heard his voice before meeting his eyes, watching as he slipped onto the chair opposite of you, the warm aura of his never failing to provide a sense of comfort for you. "Hey,"
The change of his hair colour grabbed your attention first. The silvery colour that the light bounced on suited him well. He always wanted to experiment with his hair, and you didn't expect him to really do it. Other than that, he had the same features, same smile, same warm colour tone eyes and skin. All in all, he was the Jay you knew, the one you loved.  
"Jay," you spoke his name as if it was a foreign taste on your tongue. His irises flashed an unreadable spark at the sound of his name coming out of your mouth. You fell into silence, not knowing how to start the conversation whereas he seemed rather speechless instead. 
He shook himself out of it, a slight frown etched onto his lips. "Thanks for making time to see me. I know … you probably didn't want to, so I'm glad you came," his tone contradicted the way his texts sounded, the initial confidence was currently wavering.
"It's no problem," you shook your head softly, a secret hope you had kept shouting in your mind where he would fix everything. 
"I didn't want to leave us at that, Y/N," his sudden confession surprised you, but it left your heart beating in both anticipation and anxiety. "The way we left things, it wasn't right. I wasn't right for doing the things I did,"
You knew what he was talking about, or at least the obvious one out of the bunch. That night at his place where you were tipsy and he was holding you in his arms, you accidentally let out the secret you've been holding in: you loved him. As expected, it obviously strained the relationship as he insisted on it being nothing serious. You were stupid for thinking he would've reciprocated it, but all he did was leave you stranded on the empty space of heartbreak alone. 
"I'm sorry. I was an asshole, and I was an idiot for not realising how much you meant to me until you weren't there next to me. You carved a hole in my life and my heart was moulded for you," his gaze fell to the table, an audible draw of breath from him. 
Jay glanced up to lock his eyes with yours again, the twitch of his hand that was holding itself back from reaching over to you. "I'm not a religious man, Y/N, but every night I prayed for God to lead me back to you," he swallowed thickly, "I know I fucked up, that's why we stopped … everything. I deserved it, but I really want to fix everything,"
You opened your mouth to speak just to close it after a passing second. He said exactly what you wished for him to say, but why was it so hard grasping everything before you? Was it the shock? 
"I missed you, Jay," it was the truth, an angering truth that you held onto for ages. "I really did. I think about you a lot and the mistakes we made. I wish we could go back to the way we were. You're my best friend," you knew that word wasn't just what it was, it held something more than that. "And I just want you back,"
The softening of his gaze only exposed the vulnerability on your face. "Can we start again?" He said quietly, seemingly testing the waters. "As friends, and we'll go slow,"
"I'd like that," you nodded, never leaving his gaze. You didn't say it, neither did he, but you weren't putting away the chances of something more than just friends, an unspoken hope that you kept. Maybe this time, everything would turn out right. 
Before you parted ways with Jay and left for home, you shared a simple conversation in front of the cafe. Just like old times, the conversation flowed naturally as if time didn't separated the two of you in the first place. 
"Can I hug you?" 
For the first time in many months, you felt the warmth and touch of Jay's that you missed. It was familiar, comforting, a band aid that covered the crack on your heart. This was the first step to heal that broken heart of yours. Closure. It was for the better. 
The rest of your day was only filled with thoughts of him, till the point where it had you lying in bed, awake and turning, wondering about the fate of you and him. A second chance was about to make or break everything.
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The next time you saw Jay again was at a party his frat brother held. 
Ever since that day at the cafe, you didn't stop texting Jay. You realised at one point that you had fallen back into your old self once more. Giggling at his messages, anticipating his notifications, calling him at odd hours. All of which didn't go unnoticed by you, and you wondered if you should be horrified or nonchalant. Given that you and him were on better, speaking terms now, you brushed it off as nothing.
"Well, isn't it my favourite girl," Jay had his arms wide open the moment he approached you, that smile of his glowing from a distance away. 
You smiled back, you always did anyway, letting him embrace you into his arms. "You smell like beer," you scrunch your nose up in distaste, pushing yourself off of him, but your arms around his shoulders remain.
"But I'm sober," he casted a wink at you, ignoring your eye roll as he took your arm from your shoulder and slid his fingers into your hand. "Come on, the guys are over there,"
To think about explaining this to the rest of your friends was going to be interesting to say the least. They already knew from your continuous text screaming for bloody help, but for them to witness it in person? You couldn't help but wish to cower into a corner out of embarrassment.
Heeseung was the first to raise a discreet eyebrow at you when you approached, hands intertwined with Jay, the same guy you swore you cut contacts with. That's a lie, apparently. Jake and Sunghoon seemed impassive, but you could tell from their several exchanges of glances, they thought the same as Heeseung did. However, both you and Jay were their friends, and no matter how messy it was, they were just the people stuck in between.
Jay eventually excused himself from the conversation to get more drinks for himself. You had a feeling he was about to be drunk by the end of the night no matter how he denied that. You knew his patterns through and through. Once he was out of ear shot, the boys turned to stare at you accusingly.
"Did you guys kiss?" Jake was the first to be blunt. The other two were eager to know the truth as well.
You practically jumped in your seat, as if a bullet had shot through your chest. In that way, his zero filtered question had that effect. "What? No! We agreed on being just friends,"
"For now," Heeseung chimed in.
"What?"
"You were literally holding hands with him," 
"It's platonic,"
"Considering your past with him, I think that's the last thing you can claim as platonic when it comes to Jay," Heeseung quipped back, making a valid point that you chose to ignore.
"Whatever. We're currently friends and we're not rushing into anything. We don't want to ruin it," you rubbed your arm uneasily, the thought of your past recurring saddened you. 
"Then when are you going to actually get together?" Sunghoon asked, sounding rather exasperated as though he's the one in your position. At one point, you wished you could trade places. 
"Ask him that," you leaned your head onto Jake's shoulder for emotional support, the question from Sunghoon was a second bullet to your heart. You had been the one sending signals from the start, but when it came to Jay reciprocating it, it was rather bleak.
"You're still hung over him? It never … went away?" Heeseung leaned his body closer, increasingly immersed into the conversation deeper.
"How could it go away when I've always been in love with him?"
The words stuck to you throughout the night. The truth and reality of you loving a man that threw everything away was a burden you carried. The egging thought of wondering if Jay even reciprocated the feelings after a year crept into your head. He didn't reach out to reconnect for nothing, did he?
Just as you've guessed, Jay was truly drunk out of his mind by the time the party was ending. Your friends were trying their best to haul Jay into his apartment while you trailed behind, wishing you were more of help than this. Jay was eventually dumped onto his bed, slurring out random sentences that made zero sense to you.
"Do you need me to drop you back? I didn't drink," Heeseung turned to you first once all of you stepped out of Jay's room. 
"I'll be fine. I didn't drink much, so I think I can drive myself back. I also want to stay a while more to make sure he's fine," you took a glance back at the open bedroom door, seeing Jay still awake and turning uncomfortably. 
"Will you be okay? I mean, you just started talking again, I don't want you to be uncomfortable," Heeseung placed an assuring hand on your shoulder, concern filled eyes boring into yours. You hadn't even thought about this before, the emotions you had whenever with Jay. 
You smiled at your friend. "It's Jay. I will never feel that way about him,"
Heeseung reciprocated your smile, seemingly more relieved. "I know."
Your friends soon left, the loud sounds of their drunken chatters faded into the night, leaving you in a deafening silence. A deep intake of breath was what helped you regain your confidence back to finally step into Jay's room, facing a dazed looking Jay who was sitting on the edge of his bed. He seemed a tad bit more sober from the multiple cups of water he had drunk. 
"Are you alright?" You took a few steps forward, holding onto the doorframe.
He glanced up, the dim light provided by his desk lamp illuminated his face, the sharpness of his features contrasted the tears he had swimming in his eyes. It was unmistakable, but it weighed you down onto the ground, not knowing if you should be taking another step. 
"Jay?" You called out cautiously, swallowing thickly. A quiet sob broke the short silence which followed, the glistening tears made their way down his cheeks. It was your first time seeing him as vulnerable as this.
You got to his side, knelt on the ground, trying to search for his gaze which persisted to run away from yours. He tried hiding his face behind his hands, but you were quick to stop him, holding onto them tightly. It was then he was forced to finally meet your eyes. 
"I'm sorry," you heard his weak voice utter out, his hand that you held onto gripped yours. "I'm sorry," he whispered tearfully.
It was your first time witnessing him this broken, crying nonstop and leaving his emotions out on display. For the first time in ages, you couldn't properly read him like you've always done. Was it your fault for making him feel this way? Was there nothing but pain in this so-called relationship you and him shared?
"I miss you," it was a confession, a painful sounding confession that he's held onto for a long time, the look in his eyes told you he meant it, but there was something else that he had: grief. "I'm sorry,"
You didn't know how long it was that you stared at him for, the thoughts in your mind had been long gone, the shell of your body remained. His words and the emotions behind them were heavier than you anticipated, it hit you hard and rough. You sighed, lowering your head for a second. "You should get some sleep, Jay. It's late and you're buzzed. I'll talk to you in the morning,"
Jay was silent. You could tell there was a hint of disappointment from him that you wished you weren't the cause of it. You got up to your feet, staring at the top of his head as he fought to avoid your eyes. So be it. As you turned to leave, you felt a hand around your wrist, pulling you to a stop.
"Will you stay?"
You've heard this one too many times. Yet, you were always a victim to it. Unlike most times, you knew this was different, letting your heart guide you to him instead of your head. It might've been foolish, but you were willing to be a fool that was persistently in love just for him.
"I'll stay."
That night, you barely slept as he laid in your lap, sound asleep. Your fingers traced the sharpness of his features, smoothing over the softness of them. You wondered to yourself whether reconnecting was a good idea in the first place if this odd feeling of yours kept cutting deep into your heart every time you're with Jay. 
You would never wish to leave him once more, but did he feel the same as you do? Or will he be the first to let you go again? 
Maybe, just this once, you'd have to be the first to let go, even if it's a small step, it was something better than nothing.
With one last apologetic look at Jay, you closed his bedroom door and left his home with a heavier heart than usual. By the time morning comes, you hoped both yours and his memories from the night before would be a fever dream. Something so intimate and vulnerable, how were you to forget quickly? Even as you drifted off to sleep in your bed, you could still remember the tears on Jay's face, it being the last thing you remember before waking up to your doorbell ringing.
It was as if your thoughts had manifested Jay to show up at your doorstep. He wasn't a figment of your imagination, but actual flesh and bones. No matter how you rubbed your eyes trying to get yourself to be more awake, he wasn't disappearing away from view. He was real. 
"Can we talk?" 
Those three words immediately brought dread for you. Jay's face was impassive, but it was evident that he was tired, restless. You nodded, moving away to let him in. It was easy for you to let him in, whether it was your home or your heart, you've always kept a space for him.
"What is it that you wanted to talk about?" You stepped closer to him, seeing as he hadn't taken a seat and feeling something odd shift in the air.
"Us, Y/N, us," Jay breathed out, strained and hoarse, as if saying that word had pained him deeply. "I don't like this, I hate it. The 'us' that we are now,"
"What?"
"We can't keep continuing on like this. We can't keep pretending everything's fine when it's not,"
It was too early for this, too early for you to be feeling burning internal rage. "Are you kidding? So what are you going to do? Leave me alone again? Go no contact with me again just because you don't want to face me again?"
"No!" Jay took a step closer to you, eyes blazing with equal fiery as yours. "I'm not ending things again, never. I can't lose you this time," his voice wavered, his hand reaching for yours and you let him hold your hand. Was that your first mistake? "I'm in love with you,"
You wished those words hadn't left his lips. For ages, you thought him confessing his true feelings would've fixed things, fixed you and him both, but at that moment, you realised it wasn't that easy, the cracks on your heart remained. 
"I know when you look at me, you see everything that went wrong, but when I look at you, I see the person I'm in love with," every word pierced your heart deeper, the desperation in his voice was clear, a saddening tragedy was imminent. 
"You don't get to do this," you whispered, backing away from him and freeing your hand from his hold. The hurt that flashed across his eyes didn't go unnoticed by you. "You don't get to tell me you're in love with me out of nowhere after we stop talking. It's not fair,"
"Am I … too late?" His voice was quiet, in the midst of the hurt was a pinch of hope. 
"You're not," you didn't want to lie, you knew your feelings were the same and unchanged, but you just weren't ready to cave in and accept his feelings that fast. It wasn't fair. "Time. That's what we need to start afresh,"
Jay nodded, jaw clenched, face stoic. There was no denying that he was hurt, he didn't hide it anyway. "I'll make it right. I'll fix us."
Was it possible to mend everything?
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Attending a party to get drunk was probably the worst idea you had in a while. 
The thoughts of you and Jay haunted you like a sickening plague, the conversation you had with him was constantly eating you up from the inside. You were pushing him away, you knew so, you were becoming like him in some ways. How ironic it was. 
That was why the moment Julie invited you to her boyfriend's house party, you knew you had to have some type of getaway, though it wasn't the most ideal. The only problem you didn't appreciate her not telling you earlier was the person you wanted to avoid most was standing with the rest of your friends in a corner playing pool.
"Look, I didn't know they were coming," Julie defended herself, leaning her body close to your side. "What's up with you and Jay anyway?"
"It's complicated,"
Julie sighed, shaking her head. "Of course it is, but how blind and dumb could you both be?"
"Hey!"
"It's obvious you like him and he likes you, why can't you guys just—I don't know—get together?" 
"It's not that easy, I wish it was. I think we're both hurt, or I'm the coward this time. We … talked, he finally said he loves me, but I can't accept it just yet,"
"Why not?"
"I gave my heart to him, Julie. For years I willingly gave my heart to a man that constantly blocked me from his heart, which was why we ended things. Only then he realised his true feelings and right now he's asking for my heart back. I just don't think it's fair," your eyes dropped to the carpeted ground, gripping onto your plastic cup tightly.
"Then would you rather regret it?"
"Huh?"
"Would you regret after pushing him away and never becoming something you've always wished to be? Constantly think about the what-ifs? I know I'm not in the right to say anything since I'm not you, but the only thing I wish to say is to go with your heart," she placed a hand on your shoulder. "If your heart yearns for him, it'll always stay that way."
Why couldn't you stop your heart from yearning for Jay? It was as if Julie had read you like a book, even in those times where you and him stopped contacting one another, you never once forgot about him. It was true, your heart was yearning for him. 
Meeting new people that were introduced by Julie and her boyfriend momentarily took your mind off Jay. Their friends were people you probably wouldn't meet again, so you didn't mind when you were left alone with one of them. 
"You come by here often?" Juyeon, one of the guys, was by your side like a leech instead of being a good company. His presence was screaming red blaring signals to you.
"Not much," you chuckled awkwardly, wondering when Julie would return with the rest of her friends.
"Can I take you out some time?" Wow, he sure knew how to cut to the chase. 
"What?"
"I was wondering if you'd like to come by to my place after this?"
Oh, this was your sign to run, wasn't it? "I—well, I have someone to meet—"
"Come on, give me a chance—" he grabbed onto your hand right before you could successfully leave, this was when you remind yourself never to get involved with frat boys.
"Sorry—" you didn't have the chance to finish your sentence when your hand was forcefully ripped away from his hold, another familiar feeling of someone's hand on yours instead. You turned just in time to see Jay standing beside you, visibly fuming.
"Leave her alone, man," he placed himself in front of you, shielding you away from Juyeon. 
"Look, I'm just trying to invite her over. You know what, she's nothing special anyway—" the sound of Jay's fist clashing into Jueyon's jaw stopped him from continuing on. You were too shocked to comprehend everything happening before you, even as Jay lunged onto the man, you could do nothing but stare. 
"Jay!" The shouts of his name clicked in your mind, breaking you out of your shell-shocked state. Every one of your friends rushed to get Jay off of Juyeon who ended up scrambling away, leaving a crowd of onlookers. 
He was hesitant to turn around and look at you, you could tell so from his stiff shoulders, but you stayed hoping to see his face. You reached your hand out shakily to touch his shoulder, yet, before you could actually do so, he turned around, eyes avoiding to meet yours.
"Jay—" 
There he went brushing past you, not a single word spoken from him. The slamming of the front door snapped you out of the hurtful daze you were in to follow him out of the house. He was standing on the pavement, unmoving. You approached him carefully, scared and paranoid of executing a wrong move.
"Jay," you walked to stand before him, feeling a tinge of hurt when he took a step back away from you. "Jay," you repeated his name, this time with a bit more desperation. "Why did you do that?" There was no answer, only a sullen silence which blurred into the night. 
You shifted your attention to his fist, the forming of a bruise and some cracked skin decorated the fist he used to punch Juyeon. Your hand absentmindedly reached for his. "You're hurt," you were about to touch his hand when he pulled away, avoiding your hold, a look of hurt flashed across your features, but you tried to hide it.
"I can't let him talk to you like that," he whispered, looking anywhere but you. You wished to grab his shoulder and forcefully make him look at you. 
"Jay, it's okay,"
"It's not!" He snapped, finally having the nerves to meet your eyes. His change of tone shocked you, your feet took a step back unknowingly. "It's not okay. Not when I feel like I'm going insane thinking you're going to get yourself in danger,"
"I'm sorry—"
"Don't," Jay heaved a breath in, voice shaking slightly. "I should be the one to say sorry for acting this way. I'm sorry," 
"Jay—" 
"I'll see you around. Get home safe." You couldn't even reach him and he was already gone, leaving into the night. There was a twisting feeling in your heart that was unbearable. Was this the end of it all? 
You felt even worse walking back into the house when the rest of your friends asked you about Jay and his whereabouts. It was awkward staying there after what went down, so you ended up going back home too, throwing yourself in bed to forget everything that had happened. 
Jay, the fight, Juyeon, you wished those three things never happened that night. You wished you and Jay never happened at all. 
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"You're just going to leave it at that?"
A bottle of alcohol late at night with the company of your friends without Jay was what you needed after a rollercoaster of a events. The amount of shots you've taken wasn't enough to blur the image of Jay's tear stained cheek or the hurt in his eyes when he told you he loved you, not even the time he avoided your touch. You wondered if love was meant to be this painful. If it was, why were you so adamant on it?
"I … don't know," you set the glass down, chewing the insides of your cheek. "It'll be too cliche and stupid to say it's complicated, right? I think I'm just hurting him. I still love him, but I can't let myself to do so. It's weird, him reconnecting after a year and suddenly telling me he's in love with me out of the blue. What does all that mean?"
Sunghoon let out a hiss from the shot he took in one go, then turned to you. "Jay might be a dumbass for realising his faults and feelings a little too late, but there's one thing I'm sure about him, and that is how much he cares for you and loves you. I remember after you guys cut contact, he had trouble sleeping for months. He said the thought of you leaving haunted him,"
"I know it's unfair to you how he's only realised his true feelings now," Heeseung interjected, pouring another round into your glass. "But I think you're just hurting yourself more by pushing him away, just like how he did to you. You love him, don't you? Don't repeat the same mistakes, you've wasted a whole year together, don't waste a lifetime regretting what could've been."
Two stubborn people walking in constant circles, that was you and Jay. Too scared to face your feelings, hurting not only the other but also yourself. 
Being absolutely emotional and pissed drunk only resulted in you crying your eyes out, which made your friends worried out of their minds till the point where they had to call the person who would know how to comfort you. However, they  failed to realise in time that the same person was the cause of your tears. 
"Where is she?" You heard his voice from a mile away, it was something you'd never forget. The others were slowly leaving your apartment after hoisting you to your bedroom. The process of which involved you sobbing and your drunk friends trying not to drop you. 
The thudding sound of footsteps filled the silence in your home. It stopped right at the doorstep to your bedroom, the hesitation was evident when he entered after several beats. You laid on your side, facing away from him. His approaching figure made your heart race, you felt the bed dip beneath you upon him taking a seat next to you. 
"You're awake, aren't you?"
You glanced up at him, the dimness of your room casted a shadow across his face, but he was still the most beautiful person you've seen. You slowly sat up, trying to move your body a distance away from him to make everything less surreal. The silence in the room was overwhelming, neither of you knew what to say first.
"Do you hate me?"
"What?" 
"I was the first to let go this time," you chuckled dryly, doing everything but meeting his eyes, maybe you were the coward all along.
Jay let out a breath of disbelief, shaking his head. "How could I ever hate you?" It was a question, it was his truth, his dying truth that he held onto with all his heart. He glanced down, staring at his hands, the bruises from the hard punches thrown were healing. "I shouldn't have lashed out on you that night. It wasn't right for me to do so,"
In the midst of your hazy mind, your brain functioned well enough to recollect the memories he mentioned. Oh, that night, that incident. "It's alright, I know you didn't mean it, you were trying to look out for me, I get it," you averted your gaze, letting yourself smile a little to lessen the tension. "I think I was just scared,"
"Of what?" 
"Of you leaving again," 
Jay's gaze softened in the darkness, his hand reaching out to hold yours and it was one of those times that you let him do so knowing how your heart felt like exploding. "I'm never leaving, nor do I hate you. I hate myself for pushing you away, for realising everything too late, for hurting you," he took a deep, yet shaky breath, "If anything, I love you,"
The drowsiness you were experiencing somehow disappeared in a blink of an eye, your mind blank, all you could hear in the back of your mind was those three words which Jay uttered. The air around you and him had shifted, the angry tension dissipated. 
You felt his hold on your hand tightening, just the same as your heart tightening at the sight of Jay's heartbroken smile. "I love you," it was a confession, something ever so freeing to finally be able to say to him knowing your true feelings were reciprocated. "I'm sorry for running away,"
Jay moved closer, his face now barely a few inches away. Everything was a blur, how his other hand travelled to cup your cheeks, his breath practically fanning your lips. "I should be the one to say sorry," those were his last words before pressing his lips on yours.
It wasn't your first time kissing him, but something about the kiss was unlike the times you've experienced.  Despite all those playful, lighthearted kisses you shared with Jay, you knew this was different. Jay was pouring his endless unspoken apologies and devotion, a mix of relief, sadness, longing were hidden behind it.
Even as you pulled away, you could feel the palpable longing between you and him. It was as if years of silent desperation, confusion and pining had melted into one, finally being addressed at that moment. Neither of you spoke a single word, just holding each other close, admiring one another. It was intimate, something you couldn't recreate with someone else. 
"I will never leave you," he whispered, his thumb stroking your cheek reassuringly. "You're a piece of me and my heart, you make me whole. I would be a fool to ever let you go again,"
You stared at him as if he was your entire universe, the effect of his every word carved a space into your heart. Eyes closing momentarily, you let yourself melt into his touch, smiling softly. "I trust you."
That was all Jay needed to hear before a small smile spread across his face. You could hear it in silence, see the look on his face and that spark he has in his brown irises, you knew what it was, he was in love.
That night, he stayed with you until morning came. You held onto one another tightly, as though scared that it was the last day to be together. Little words were exchanged, but you were content by him holding you close. 
For the first time in a while, you were able to fall asleep with no lingering thoughts, and for the first time ever, he was yours, and you were his.
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Telling your friends you and Jay were finally together was a rollercoaster of emotions that you'd never forget. 
It has been months since you and your best friend officially got together. The reactions from people around you were nothing but relief and support after knowing how much hell you two went through. For once, you actually believed in the 'forever' that was promised.
You didn't question the sound of keys unlocking your front door. It has become a habit for Jay to stop by your place every evening, almost just like before and it felt as if everything was falling back into place. Every visit of his came with something he prepared to surprise you, which was why his cheeky grin gave it away.
He pressed a kiss on the top of your head before joining you on the sofa, the playful smile of his never once left. "I have a surprise,"
"Chocolate cake?"
"Okay, something not edible," 
"What is it?" You couldn't help smiling too, nudging your boyfriend in an attempt to get him to reveal his so-called surprise.
"Close your eyes,"
"Are you serious?"
"I'm serious. Come on, close them!" He was giggling, egging you on to go along with whatever he has up his sleeves. "Now, give me your hand," You complied. Not long after, you felt something cold and small making contact with the skin of your palm. "Open your eyes," 
You were first met with Jay's anticipating gaze, then you looked down, seeing a ring sitting on the palm of your hand. "A ring?" You were surprised, picking it up to look at it closely. It was beautiful, simple yet so intricate in detail, as if it was customised for you. 
"Don't worry, it's not an engagement ring, it's a promise ring. I know we did make a five year deal, but we're still taking it slow," he picked the ring from your hold and gently took your hand, slotting the ring into your ring finger. "Maybe in another five years time, I'll actually get to fulfil our pact and replace this with an engagement ring,"
This was the closest you've felt your heart exploding. Heat rushed to your face, heart beating nonstop, you were suddenly the person who's first developed a crush for Jay all over again. "Since when did you become so cheesy," you scoffed, a small smile rested on your lips.
"Only for you, duh," it wasn't a lie whatsoever, Jay never hid himself when it came to you. "Let's call some takeout and stay in,"
"Are you staying over tonight?"
"Only if your bed is open to let me in," he made himself comfortable next to you, throwing his arms around you to pull you closer to his side. 
"You know it always is."
Jay didn't say anything, but his smile was enough of a response. No matter if it's your bed, house or heart, you've always reserved a spot specially for him. He made up a part of you just the same as you were with him. He was your home and safe space. You were glad you made that stupid pact on one drunken night that led him back to you.
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( © jaylver all rights reserved. do NOT copy, plagiarise or edit my work and repost whatsoever. once discovered will be exposed and blacklisted. )
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sinizade · 2 years
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I made a little clothing guide for some Dragon Age regions
Some may not be exactly the same as the references that appear in the game or in the concepts, but I wanted to give a little of my vision to the guide.
Ferelden
Ferelden is close to the Frostback Mountains and Orlais and as Leliana and Zevran once said, Ferelden is cold, so I thought it would be a cool idea to put on thick clothes with a lot of fur so the Fereldans can protect themselves from the cold.
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Tevinter
Dragon Age 4 is approaching and it's already evident that we're going to be in the Tevinter Imperium, so I discovered that a lot of Tevinter clothing was inspired by clothing from the Byzantine Empire
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Orlais
We've already seen in the game and in the concept art that Orlais is all about being flamboyant and flashy and what's more flamboyant and flashy than mid-1500s fashion?
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Antiva
Home to the two loves of my life, Zevran and Josephine, Antiva fashion is something I really love… The puffy arms, the breast-enhancing corsets, the leather vests, idk, I just like Antiva
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Nevarra
I don't exactly have much to say about nevarra, but I did some research and found some concepts that I thought were interesting, I also saw in some places that said that the kingdom was inspired by the traditional culture of Spain
So I'll leave two references here
One for the traditional clothes and one for what I imagine might look like Nevarra dress
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Frostback Basin
In Inquisition we can see that the clothes they wear are quite furry and well protected from the cold, so I think it would be a good idea to inspire some of their clothing in Inuit clothing
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The Dalish (1/2/3/4/5)
Well, for the Dalish I had MANY ideas, among them think about adding traditional clothes from some tribes, native Brazilian/American, African, Hawaiian, Inca, Aztec and Mayan
Remembering that I made a great mix of traditional clothes from several tribes and not just one, and that I also have 0 intention of disrespecting any of them, if I have put something wrong or disrespectful you can be free to alert me
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Orzammar
I knew little about Turkey, but when I went to research I ended up enchanted with some of the traditional clothes when I went to research about it and I thought that this style would go well with Orzammar
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Par Vollen
For Par Vollen, I had a bit of trouble finding it, but I think clothing a little bit closer to the ancient Egyptian style would be something interesting. The light fabrics, the golden jewels adorning the body, idk, I like that idea
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Rivain
I was doing some research again and found that part of Rivain's look was inspired by traditional clothing from Islamic Spain and Southeast Asia , so I looked around a bit for something to put here and add one more kingdom to the list
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I hope you people enjoyed! Soon I will add more realms as soon as I finish my research
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athenaluthor · 8 months
Text
Hesitation - Darth Vader
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Summary: Husband!Vader has been on his ship for far too long. His very pregnant wife has come to fetch him.
Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, Unburnt!Vader, Domestic!Vader, Husband!Vader, established relationship, fluff , porn with plot, wife!reader, PiV, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it please), creampie, mentions of children, mentions of Emperor Palps (he's his own red flag), same universe as my other fic here
Word count ~ 3.6k (unedited)
masterlist
Vader hasn't left his ship in days. Regularly occupied by the matters of the Empire, it was not uncommon for him to be absorbed in his work. More often than not, he would work late into the night until he lost track of time. Rest and sleep were put aside until he was satisfied with the work. To make matters worse, food and drinks his attendants provided were also regularly left untouched in favor of his work.
Although many would prefer it, his wife had decided to not let him rot on the Executor. After all, she prefers him alive and well. It also is not helpful that the current chatter among the Imperial ranks was that Lord Vader despised her and would rather confine himself to his ship than be with his very pregnant wife.
On some occasions, one could say that it was indeed true. Vader was nothing but dedicated to his work, or the Dark Side if we're being honest. But for the most part, Vader is practically glued to her. If he could chain her to their bed, he would.
That being said, no one dared to disturb him on his ship. Vader's temper was infamously catastrophic, mercurial. He could go from calm and collected, to being the embodiment of chaos and destruction. To make matters worse, her third pregnancy is proving far more difficult than the other two. The pain borders on unbearable and she struggles to walk even short distances.
Walking through the doors of his private office aboard the ship, she searches it for her husband. The cold wave of air sends a chill down her spine, making her shiver. She clutches her fur shawl closer to her body, trying to keep warm. The sight of Vader standing and looking over his war table, greets her. He was surely ready to chew out whomever had bothered him, clearly engulfed in his work.
Turning around, Vader's anger dissipates. Seeing his wife slowly walking towards him, taking careful steps to ensure she wouldn't slip and injure herself or god forbid, her baby has that effect on him. Naturally, Vader wastes no time in slipping off his helmet and crossing the room to her. Instinctively, he holds out his arm for her to use as support and walks her over to the sofa. Vader adjusts the few cushions on the absurdly large and plush sofa to support her back and helps her sit.
“What are you doing here?” he all but yells, kneeling down in front of her to slip off her shoes. Setting her shoes aside, Vader massages her swollen feet.
“When ones’ husband does not return home to his wife for days in favor of a ship, people talk. Not to mention, the boys miss you as well.”
“A few things are taking longer than I expected. I planned on coming home yesterday.” he replies, eyes avoiding her. He opts to focus his vision on her feet and massaging out the knots.
“I know. Your schedule isn't exactly a secret to me.”
“Things don't always go as planned.”
“Well, rebels and incompetent Imperial officers will do that.” she replies nonchalantly.
“Did you walk all the way from the landing bay to here?”
“Yes. It's not a very short walk, you know.”
Vader's face grows darker with what she assumes is rage or frustration. She reaches out to grab his gloved hand and toy with his fingers.
“I know. The walk is not suitable for a woman who's heavily pregnant!” he replies sternly, clearly unhappy with her choice.
Standing up, he walks over to the side table and buzzes for an attendant. Seconds later, one rushes in, face riddled with anxiety and fear.
“Yes, Lord Vader?” her voice quivers slightly. Clearly frightened in anticipation of Vader's wrath.
He orders her to bring in a selection of drinks and food, barely acknowledging her presence.
The attendant looks somewhat relieved at his request, probably grateful he wasn't directing his wrath at her. Her eyes flicker over to Vader's wife briefly before she quickly steps out of the room.
Quietly, Vader rearranges the cushions in the couch again and gestures for his wife to lay down. Tired and uncomfortable, she happily obliges. Vader helps her lay down, adjusting things here and there to ensure her comfort.
He fusses like a mother hen, she muses to herself.
Sitting down beside her, his hand gently caresses her large bump, a comfortable silence washing over them.
Soon, he thought. Soon, they would be free from the Emperor's clutches. His sons wouldn't be forced to serve the Emperor as he had, his wife wouldn't have to keep birthing him children if she didn't want to. He would give her anything, she gave him a second chance of life when he squandered it.
The baby wastes no time and gives a rather hard kick to Vader's hand, earning a groan from his mother.
“Your son is not letting me sleep. He can't stop moving or kicking or tensing! Everything just hurts.” she angrily says.
Vader reaches out into the force, searching for his unborn son's signature. The boy was warm and his signature was pure, untainted. Vader soothes and calms him down, sensing how tense his wife truly was.
“Have you seen the doctors? Make sure there's nothing wrong with you or the baby.” he asks, concern lacing his voice.
“I have. The baby is just, I don't know, active? The doctors say he's active. Our boys weren't exactly easy pregnancies but I wasn't this uncomfortable with them.”
The squeaky wheels of a cart interrupts them, they both turn their heads to the attendant walking in. Pushing a metal cart that was filled with a few drinks and an assortment of snacks, the attendant asks if they would need anything else.
Vader dismisses the attendant and turns his attention back to his wife.
“Uncomfortable or painful? You need to be honest. I have seen you pregnant, I know you're in pain.” Vader says accusingly.
She doesn't reply. Instead, she opts to run her hands along his suit. Eventually inching up to his face where she runs her fingers across his jaw,his cheek and even his nose.
Vader leans into her, reveling in the contrast of her soft touch against his skin. The way she looked at him so reverently, as if he hung up the stars for her.
In all truth, he would. He wouldn’t even hesitate or question her. He would do anything she asked him to. He didn't deserve this kind of love. He didn't deserve this gentleness and patience. Not after what he's done. Yet, he lets her. He knows he shouldn't let her, but he does every time. She wants to give him all her love and care, yet he feels so desperately undeserving of it. He has tainted her, no matter how hard he tries to, he can't stop himself.
He can't stop himself when she begs him to take her to bed and make love to her or fuck her mindless. He can't stop himself when she's begging him to fill her womb with his seed and give her another baby. Not when she's brought his sons into the world. She has carried and birthed two of his children. Now, she's carrying his third and Vader can feel that she's weaker this time. He won't admit it, he can't admit it.
The dark side in him feeds off this worry, telling him that he will lose her. Telling him that he will lose her to childbirth and the child he put in her will bring her to her death. He condemned her to death the same way he did Padme.
“Stop.” her voice breaks him out of his trance.
She continues “You're spiraling out. You're here yet you're miles away and we can't have that.”
She looks over at the cart and turns to him. With a soft smile on her face she makes him an offer he can't resist.
“How about you eat with me,hmm? I don't have any appetite when I'm alone. Eating with you always helps.”
So, they eat together in silence. The spread of food had enough variety for her not to feel sick. Vader has no protests, as long as she eats. The baby is well-nourished and so is she. She wastes no time in eating her food, having a taste of everything. Vader remembers she is always hungry at this stage of pregnancy, for food and for him. He didn't mind.
Truth be told, he couldn't care if people thought he was pulling away from her. It couldn't be further from the truth. Vader was largely focused on her, his two sons and his unborn child. Everything he did was for them. His plans of betraying Palpatine is all for them. His wife's third pregnancy had thrown a wrench in his plans of overtaking Palpatine. Trying to move her somewhere in this state, he simply couldn't risk it. He didn't want her to be caught in the crossfire while pregnant, not when she is this vulnerable.
The stress could bring harm to both her and the baby. If anything happens to either of them, the dark side would surely dig its claws deeper into him.
Palpatine would also surely take the first chance at killing his pregnant wife if he retaliated. If this happens, the dark side will consume him completely, he thinks. He can't let his boys see that.
Vader also wants to be there for the birth. He wants to make sure she would live through it. Once she's safely given birth safely he prays, he'll have her and the children hidden. Hidden somewhere safe, somewhere protected where no one will be able to find them or hurt them.
Only then will he take on Palpatine. Only then will he destroy his wretched master. He will make Palpatine suffer for all he's taken away from him. Yet, Vader still hesitates. Would this be the right course of action?
Vader was a fool not to see Palpatine’s plans. He believed that Palpatine truly allowed him to have another wife as a reward for his work. In truth, Palpatine wanted his children for his sick and twisted plots. Vader felt his blood run cold and his stomach churn when Palpatine suggested his eldest son be trained in the ways of the dark side soon.
“Will you come home tonight? Perhaps even tuck them in?” Her voice is timid, almost as if she's testing the waters. She doesn't realize it, but her voice snaps him back to reality, grounding him to the world around him.
“Alright. We'll head home soon.” Vader leans in to kiss her, his kiss is passionate yet gentle.
His hand gently weaves itself into her hair and she has no qualms about it. Vader’s kiss tastes sweet, like the fruits he's eaten off the spread and somehow she adores him even more now. The smell of his armor is both comforting and arousing, making her head spin
Vader pushes her fur scarf off her body, exposing her cleavage to him. Laying down, Vader thinks she looks like an angel, a kriffing angel.
Hair tousled and skin warmed, her breasts on display for him. The look in her eyes is one of love and lust which has Vader feeling like a teenage boy with his cock tightening in his pants.
Luckily for him, she's wearing one of her breastfeeding dresses. Vader pulls her dress away from her chest, exposing her to him.
“Vader!” she exclaims loudly, hands swatting him away. “What?” he mischievously grins at her.
“Not here. What if someone enters?”
“I'd kill them” Vader replies nonchalantly.
Vader's tongue moves to toy with one of her nipples, earning a rather erotic groan from her. He gently sucks on her nipple while his hand toys with the other.
Her hand weaves itself into his soft, blonde curls, gripping and tugging it gently as she falls into the fit of pleasure.
Vader moves his attention to her neck, kissing and sucking, leaving red marks in his wake. The smell of her perfume and body oils drives him crazy. When he pulls away, the sight of her flushed face has him breathless and his cock hard.
Vader tugs his gloves off, setting them aside on the cart of food and drinks. Then, he gets between her legs and slowly shifts her skirt up to expose her soaking wet panties. Vader pulls her panties off, tossing them somewhere in the room.
Vader slides two fingers in and out of her, earning moans that any man would beg to hear.
“You smell so sweet and you're so wet. Is all this for me,hmm?” he teases her.
Dizzy from pleasure, she struggles to answer.
“Mmhm..Oh! Who else has me like this?”
“Should I fuck you right here? On this couch, where anyone can walk in,hmm?” he asks.
“I want you. I want you to fuck me, husband” she whines to him.
Satisfied with her answer, Vader leans down and his tongue fiddles with her clit while his fingers pump in and out of her. Her cunt tastes sweet just like her and within minutes, he has her bucking her hips and arching her back, moaning while she grows closer to her climax.
When she does, her body trembles and she tries to close her legs as he continues to suck on her clit and finger her. His fingers move with a come hither motion making her squeal. Her body is always so sensitive when pregnant. Vader loved to see how many times he could make her cum all over him before she couldn't take anymore.
“Ohh, Vader! Vader!” she moans.
Vader continues until she comes undone a second time, her walls clamping down on his finger so tightly he could barely them. Her thighs shake as he sucks harder on her clit and she tries to squirm away from him.
Her thighs wrap around his head and Vader thinks that he could stay there forever. Vader pulls his fingers out of her and his mouth dives right into her pussy, lapping up all her juices.
His wife tries to push him away, clearly it was too much for her. Vader grips her thighs tightly, preventing her from moving away.
Then, he adjusts her on the couch. He helps her get on her knees and positions her so her belly is supported by the couch cushions. Her hands grip the back of the couch for support, preparing to take Vader. Taking her in a back shot position is one of his favorites.
Vader discards his codpiece in record time and unzips himself to free his hard cock. Vader lines his cock up to her and thrusts himself in, her pussy was so wet, it was barely resisting him. He groan loudly as his cock sinks into her warm and wet pussy.
Vader thrusts himself in and out of her, the sounds of their skin slapping only spurring them on. His head moves to the side of her neck, breathing in her scent as one of his hands wraps around her neck gently.
Her moans and pants are music to his ears, he knows she adores it when he's like this. He thrusts into her slow and deep, shifting the angle of his hips to hit the right spots. It takes him all of his control not to fuck the living daylights out of her.
Vader grunts out between his thrusts “You feel so good around me,wife. My wife, the mother of my children, takes my cock so well. Even when you're this pregnant, you still spoil me.”
The hand on her throat moves to clutch her belly. His other hand moves down her swollen belly and to toy with her clit, making her moan loudly.
Vader's thrusts speed up slightly as he rubs her clit, “How long will it take for you to cum this time? You look so good falling apart for me, my darling wife”.
Vader continues his thrusts and the hand on her clit doesn't stop until she comes undone. When she cums, Vader continues to move his cock in and out of her, making her moan and whimper louder. Her walls grip him so tight, it has him grunting as he tries to thrust.
“Vader, Vader, Vader! It's too much! Can't take it, hmmph!” she whimpers.
“I haven't finished yet, my pretty wife. I'm going to fill you up with my cum.” Vader whispers in her ear.
His thrusts now pick up speed as he chases his climax and his fingers on her clit expertly help her get closer to her fourth orgasm as well. Her moans and his grunts fill the room, the sound of their skin slapping against each other echo loudly.
“You're so tight! Too much,hmm? My poor wife can't handle my cock!” He grunts in her ear.
He's close. He's so close and so is he. He ruts into her wildly as he feels her fourth orgasm nearing. She orgasms again, legs shaking as she tries to hold on until he shoots his load deep inside her. She's seeing stars trying not to faint from how good this feels.
“I'm going to cum! Take it, take it” he yells as he shoots his cum inside her. The feeling of being so full of him and his cum has her so dizzy. Her entire body shakes and she's panting as Vader slowly finishes his thrusts.
Vader pulls out of her and the stimulation has her whimpering. His cum drips out of her and onto her thighs and the couch.
Then, he helps her limp body to lay down on the couch. He's careful to lay enough cushions to support her as he lays there satiated and panting. Cleaning himself up, he zips up his pants and places his codpiece back on.
Taking a few tissues, he wipes down the mess he's made between her legs. The contact has her moving away, clearly overstimulated.Then, he helps to adjust her dress and cover her breasts.
“Was that too much, hmm?” Vader asks as he brushes her hair out of her face.
She shakes her head. “It was good. Just what I needed. Though, I don't think I can walk home after this.” she says to him.
Vader leans down to give her a kiss on the cheek before handing her a glass of water with a straw from the cart.“You don't have to. I'll carry you.”
She drinks it under his watchful eye. “I'm doing alright today. The baby is active but the pain isn't too bad. Nothing more than usual. You need not worry, husband.” She says to him.
Vader doesn't answer, merely standing up to grab his helmet and putting it on. He walks over to her and grabs the glass to put it aside.
He picks her up and carries her all the way back to her little ship in the landing bay. Ignoring the eyes of the Imperial officers and stormtroopers, she lays her head on him despite his hard armor poking her head.
By the time they reach her ship, she's fast asleep. Only waking when he straps her into one of the seats. He starts the ship and flies it out the Executor's landing bay down to Coruscant.
Once home, Vader helps her pump her milk since she missed a feeding to go fetch him on his ship. Then,he helps his very sleepy wife freshen up for the night and change into something comfortable for the night. He made sure to rub some ointments on her to soothe her aches and help her sleep.
After he tucks her into bed, he unlatches his helmet and looks out into the nighttime skyline of Coruscant. Bustling with lights and music, filled with party-goers and dwellers from all parts of the galaxy. He turns to look at his wife, sound asleep in his bed looking like an angel. A kriffing angel.
Shedding his armor, Vader heads into the shower. Relieved to wash the day away and calm down, he stands under the warm water for a while. All was well for now. His wife was sound asleep in their bed, his kids were too probably.
Finishing his shower, he gets dressed and heads to his sons’ rooms. Their rooms weren't far, just across from his and his wife's. Close enough for him to get to them if anything were to happen. Nothing would, not under his watch.
He quietly slips into his eldest's room first. The five-year old boy lays sprawling on his bed, blonde curls poking about wildly. His blanket was at the edge of the bed, almost kicked off by the aggressive sleeper that was his son. His son was the most deep sleeper he's seen. An earthquake could happen and the boy would still sleep.
Vader readjusts the boy so he lays properly on his pillow and he slides the blanket back on. He checks the monitor and gives his son a kiss on the forehead before leaving to check on his youngest.
His youngest is now 14 months old. A joyful thing, really. He's always smiling and laughing, following his older brother around.
Vader peers into the boy’s crib to see him clutching his toy purrgil tightly. Vader gives him a kiss and checks the monitor as well before heading to his home office.
Sitting in his chair, he stares at the holo screens in front of him. Now or never, he thinks. He has to put his plans into place if wants to beat Palpatine soon.
He can't hesitate. He has to be sure. Hesitation will get him and his family killed.
His gaze moves to the little clay sculpture of him he has on his desk. It was one his five year old son made for him at school.
He won't hesitate.
Darth Vader does not hesitate.
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sayruq · 11 months
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Biden's visit has concluded. Israel has spent his entire visit trying to muddy the waters of what happened to Al Ahli Hospital and despite their cartoonish efforts, it hasn't worked
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The Global South and especially West Asia know who is responsible for the bombing and no amount of AI voice recordings of 'Hamas operatives' can change that.
Israel war crimes continues to backfire on them even in America
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Biden backing Israel has had an impact on America's image. Here's a Wall Street Journal article warning that America's continued support is turning countries towards Russia and China which is code for turning countries against America
An EU official said that the EU will pay a heavy price in the Global South for its continued, unabashed support for Israel
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There's also speculation that the Biden administration knew about the bombing before it happened.
Countries that were/are allied with Israel continue to distance themselves from Israel like Russia. The reason I keep highlighting Russia is because the West has been running out of ammunition due to the Russia-Ukraine war and that includes Israel which is rumoured to have sent 80-90% of its ammunition to Ukraine. If this conflict lasts a long time, Israel will need to buy weapons and ammunition and Russia would be one of the countries they would turn to (same with China)
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So, where are we in terms of the conflict? After days of waffling over a ground operation in Gaza, Israel postponed it until some time after Biden's visit and now we're back here again
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Now I'm no military expert but constantly going back and forth on whether or not you'll invade Gaza is bound to do damage to your troops' morale. No wonder they're dealing with mass desertions while their citizens demonstrate on the streets. The Israeli leadership has no plan besides bombing Gaza.
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I've seen people on twitter say that the hospital bombing was done deliberately to normalise IDF soldiers to mass civilian deaths in places like hospitals, schools, places of worship, etc. I don't know if I believe that - I think they wanted to push Iran and Hezbollah's buttons before hiding behind Biden. I don't think these people are thinking strategically.
As far as the possibility of regional war is concerned, all indicators show that the West preparing for the war to escalate
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Seems to me the Israel has seen what Ukraine has received in just a year and a half of war. They're done receiving a paltry 3.8 billion every year and now prepared to drag out the conflict and I can't say I blame with Biden proposing a 100 billion package for both Ukraine and Israel. This will stretch America too thin as far as funding in concerned. Cracks are already showing
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There are parts of the US government that is unhappy that the Ukraine war is losing attention. During the Ukraine war, you had parts of the government that wanted focus to shift from Russia to China. Because of that, the US government has spent the past year alternating between hostility to Russia and threatening to go to war with China over Taiwan. When Niger expelled France from within its borders, America was preparing to join that conflict until Mali and Burkina Faso declared they would fight with Niger. Now they're entering a third front in West Asia. In short, the mighty empire is expending a lot of resources right now and it is not the threat it was when it invaded Iraq and Afghanistan in the early 2000s.
At any rate, the ground invasion of Gaza won't go the way Israel and America hopes it will
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The coalition of Palestinian resistance fighters are still patiently waiting for the IDF to come meet them. Their allies aren't backing down either
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The reason I keep making these posts is to remind people that, while the genocide of the people of Gaza is horrifying, the war for the liberation of Palestine has not yet been lost.
Do not lose hope. From the river to sea, Palestine WILL be free
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muneca-lemon-steppa · 9 months
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Need me a Thomas Shelby with “you fell asleep in my arms. it was kind of adorable.” thank you and cg for 100 followers!!
Thank you so much for this request my love! I'm so sorry it's so long coming. Again, I'm studying for the bar and it is crazy with the holidays! Also, I hope you like this! Tommy is not my typical bread and butter but I wanted to give people the option! Sending all my love to you angel! - Mo
100 Follower Celebration: No Man Works Alone
Thomas Shelby x Fem!Reader, fluff
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When you got connected to the middle Shelby boy, you were warned that life would never be the same. You assumed as much, knowing that their business went much farther than horse racing. You were up to the task. You had been in the Shelby orbit for years, you saw what it all took, and when Tommy made his intentions known to you, you were willing to step up and do your part in expanding the empire.
Polly joked that you were made for this life with the way that you so seamlessly came in. While the Shelby company were encroaching into higher society and government facades, they needed a pretty face to butter up old money hands. When the boys were running liquor and snow and violence, you ran sweet words and high teas with women whose husbands had deep and ancient pockets. Even before Thomas met with potential partners, they were already inclined to agree since you were just so kind and elegant looking. Surely a woman like you would never be with someone not reputable right?
But it wasn’t just the business you managed to soothe and nurture. You also added a salve to the Shelby familial wounds. Some wounds required more care than others. Some would never heal completely, but petty arguments could be solved and begin the groundwork for a more harmonious union. You had stepped in more than once to facilitate peace agreements between the Shelby siblings more than once, “Do it for the children yeah? They deserve to be able to see their cousins and aunts and uncles freely. Shelby’s need each other. And it’s Christmas for God’s sake!”
And no good deed goes unpunished it seems. Due to your expert people skills and kind face, you were put in charge of a Christmas gala for all the biggest names in the city. A dual purpose to flaunt the power of the Shelby family, and to raise funds for a women’s shelter to be built. In the same week you were planning to host Christmas dinner and Christmas morning in the home for the entire Shelby family. Everyone was coming and it was to be a beautiful affair. It’s would be wonderful save for the sheer amount of people to take care of. You had spent the day running around, only to continue into the evening, taking care of your and Tommy’s children; putting them to bed and giving them each some attention in the absence of their father.
By the time you had finished your tasks for the day, it was late, and Tommy still wasn’t finished with the ledgers and accounts. He looked exhausted, the puffiness of his eyes evident in from under his glasses. Sleeves rolled up and shirt open the quiet desire for sleep was coming off him in waves. You wrap your soft satin robe tighter around you as you gently sit next to Tommy. Without looking up from his work he says to you in a gravely voice, "You should be in bed, it's late love."
You shake your head, though you feel as though invisible fingers are dragging your eyelids down, "Mm not tired."
Tommy chuckles as he hears you attempt to stifle a yawn. He takes off his glasses to look at your faltering face. "You're not eh? You sure?"
You lean back on the comfortably expensive sofa Tommy had set up shop on, stretching out the ache in your back, "Perhaps a little. But I don't like not sleeping next to you. If you're up, I'm up. We're a team yeah?"
Tommy smiles, enamored by your insistence. It was one of the things that drew him to you the first time he saw you. Your quiet defiance. You intent to keep people together and not leave anyone behind. It was only a small fractal of how sweet and tender your heart was. Tommy leaned over to gently kiss your temple, "Alright then. If you insist Commander. I'll be done soon enough I promise."
With another poorly hidden yawn you say, "Take your time darling. I brought reading."
Just as Tommy predicted, within 15 minutes you were out like a light. Back when you all were children, it was a running joke that you would be running and playing as hard as you could one minute, and fall dead asleep on any surface the next minute. It never changed. As Tommy chuckled and picked the book off your face where it fell, he was reminded of you as a young girl. Though there were a few more marks and lines on your face now, you had the whispers of your youth still on your face. Your daughter with Tommy slept the same exact way. Mouth open slightly. Arms raised above your head. Utterly at peace. Tommy was tempted to wake you to tease you, but knew you would punish yourself for 'falling asleep on the job'. He opted to finish his paperwork instead, working diligently and quietly so as not to disturb you. Soon enough he was done and put everything away in his desk to pick up tomorrow. Pressing gentle kisses to your face, he whispers against you, "Darling, wake up. Let's go to bed eh? Get you more comfortable."
You jolted awake, nearly knocking Tommy over, "Oh God... what time is it? Are the kids ok?"
Tommy chuckled deeply, pulling you up by the arms, "No no darling. Kids are alright. You fell asleep next to me. It was a bit adorable really. You look exactly like Matilde in her crib. "
You throw yourself back down, "Oh God I fell asleep while you were working! That is not what I wanted to do! I wanted to keep you company!"
Tommy laid himself over you, pushing your arms away from your embarrassed face, "You did keep me company. Perfect company. You needed to sleep. You've been running around. Being the best mother and wife. Being the best coordinator. Being the best aunt and sister in law. Hard work my love. C'mon. Let's get to bed yeah?"
You let him kiss you and take you to bed. Sleep took you both sweetly and quickly. And in the morning you would start it all over again. Waking to your children jumping on top of you with joy, and another list of things to attend to. But as long as Tommy was next to you. It would all be worth it.
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sluttycinderella · 3 months
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Razorgate: an empirical, peer reviewed study*
*there is nothing genuinely scientific about this, it is merely a result of mental illness and unemployment.
So we all saw this right?
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But after this bomb was dropped I began to get curious about the other slittenings. Did they use the same razor for all of them and no one had noticed? Do they actually own more than one razor? And if they don't, if this is truly the only phrazor, then I don't think I have to tell you that raises a lot of questions.
Firstly, I went back to where this all began, Phil's Birthday stream, to identify the razor that carved the very first slit and forever cemented itself as a part of herstory:
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Now that is very clearly the Manscaped logo, no question about it. Here’s a high quality photo of the logo for comparison:
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(You can also clearly see in the Twitter post that it says "Manscaped" across it but I like to double check my work and I also wanted to prove that they were both Manscaped)
And it's a good thing I did double check because OP made a CRITICAL ERROR in their post! They claim that the razor in question is the Lawn Mower 4.0 when in fact it's the Lawn Mower 5.0 Ultra! Unlike the PUNY, PATHETIC, UNMANLY 4.0, the Lawn Mower 5.0 Ultra comes with an interchangeable foil blade, a USB port, and a more advanced spotlight!
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How could OP be so careless? Dan and Phil would never own an outdated razor! They require only the finest in ball shaving technology!
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Also fun fact: The first appearance of the Lawn Mower 5.0 Ultra on the Manscaped YouTube channel falls right in between the dapg return announcement and their first video back so make of that what you will...I for one shall be sculpting my own hill out of the very earth itself, "Manscaped Sponsorship Hill", I encourage you all to join me.
So after spending far too long researching the intricacies of razors that shave an organ I don't even have, I now needed to check if it was the same razor being used in every slittening:
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Here they are side by side for comparison, left is Phil’s birthday, middle is the We're All Doomed post-premiere, right is Dan’s birthday. Now it appears the WAD one is missing the logo but I'm going to go ahead and chalk that up to the poor quality of the clip I found (if anyone has a better version PLEASE hit me up so I can confirm my hypothesis). And considering the photo taken in the aftermath seems to show Phil holding the 5.0 Ultra:
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I'm gonna go out on a limb and say it's the same thing.
“But,” I hear you shouting, “so what if Dan and Phil used the same razor for all the streams? They already said they only owned one razor so who cares?” Well this isn’t so much about proving that they’re the same razor as it is establishing a baseline. It’s hard to trust basically anything Dan and Phil say lately, what with piggate and the “pillow” bar and the fake view from the Phouse, knowing that they aren’t lying about only having one razor (to the best of our knowledge) is crucial in figuring out what exactly is going on. Remember, we’re doing science here.
And with that in mind: In my professional opinion, I can say that for all three slittenings, the Manscaped Lawn Mower 5.0 Ultra was the weapon of choice.
Sidenote: I went down a bit of a rabbit hole of Manscaped reviews during all of this and apparently Manscaped razors are kind of just a scam. This razor is $109 and they try to trick their customers into subscribing to their "Peak Hygiene Plan" which you don't actually need by offering a deceptive discount and hiding the terms where people aren't likely to see them. So yeah, fuck Manscaped and I for one think we should cancel Dan and Phil for not ethically consuming under capitalism.
But that's beside the point, we know that they indeed only have one razor and that that razor...is for balls. What does that tell us?
Conclusions
There are a multitude of conclusions one could jump to in the light of such a revelation, I shall display them in a convenient numbered list for your viewing pleasure:
One of them prefers to use straight (lol) razors to shave their...you know...I don't actually know if this is a thing people do or if it's even possible, people with balls please sound off in the comments, thank you
Only one of them actually shaves in which case I support them as an infamous pussy hair enthusiast (iykyk)
They share a razor (Please, God, no, that's actually disgusting)
Either way, this thing was on someone's balls and then it touched both their faces so I really hope they cleaned it properly!
Alright, so that whole exploration may have been a bit useless, it indeed only confirmed what we had already been told, but I spent literal hours comparing photos of ball hair trimmers and I'm not one to admit defeat. Consider yourselves peer reviewed, Dan and Phil, and maybe check out Beardscape instead! Apparently they have better, more comprehensive razors for the same price.
If anyone even more demon than me has any corroborating evidence (maybe of them using straight razors at any point or anything else razor related that they've said in the past) please let me know so I can take it into consideration! Thank you all for your time.
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matan4il · 6 months
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I saw an article in an Israeli leftist newspaper, which talked about a phenomenon nicknamed, "Blaxit." For those unfamiliar, it's a movement calling for Americans and Europeans of Black/African descent to move to Africa.
This is actually not a new idea (though according to the article, it has picked up some momentum since the George Floyd murder). The "Back to Africa" movement was based on the exact same idea, and was even successful in establishing a whole country for returning Africans, Liberia, as far back as 1847.
And here's the most ironic part: it's the EXACT same principle that drives Zionism. It's the notion that, "our ancestors were removed from our ancestral homeland a long time ago in order to be used as slaves by Europeans, and even though over time our people became free, we never became equal. We are tired of it, and even though we understand that our quality of life will drastically drop if we leave the places that thrived in part thanks to our people's labor over the years, especially as we leave them for the place we're originally from, which stagnated under the exploitative and oppressive influence of colonialism, we still prefer that hardship and sacrifice to a life of being second hand citizens (at best), of always being less than, of knowing our very right to live depends on the good will of the majority, made up of the descendants of those who enslaved our ancestors, a situation we can no longer bear."
I've never seen anyone chanting for the genocidal eradication of Liberia, or Sierra Leone (where 10% of the population is made up of the descendants of freed slaves from the US and Jamica), never heard anyone calling for the canceling of Maya Angelou because she returned to Africa by settling in Ghana, never heard anyone calling Ghana "an apartheid state" for giving returning Africans preferential treatment in immigrating there from 2019 on, or Sierra Leone for doing the same, I doubt anyone would call Africans adopting the Blaxit idea "colonizers" or "black supremacists." Yet all of that has been done to Jews and the Jewish State we've established in the Jewish ancestral homeland that our ancestors were removed from, when they were taken to be slaves across the Roman Empire. It's discriminatory in nature towards Jews, and it IS antisemitic.
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thewertsearch · 12 days
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Resolution to the summoner's mutiny is foggy, as I only understand what has 8een rel8ed to me through the 8rief answers I thought to solicit. Ultim8ely, the ire of the Condesce would 8e such that in the settling dust of the conflict, she would 8anish all from the homeworld, except the young. […] I cannot imagine how she would come to enforce such an upheaval in our civiliz8tion. Though I suppose she will have on her side the advantage of an unparalleled lifespan, and the leverage extended 8y the hideous psychic prongs of her deep undul8ing monstrosity.
Attention is drawn to the prodigiously long lifespan of the Condesce - the empress of Mindfang's time, and Feferi's probable ancestor. I used to think that the modern Empress was a different troll, but now that we're aware of fuchsiablood longevity, I'm pretty sure the two are one and the same.
Based on a line from Feferi's introduction, I was assuming that she was the only fuchsiablood in the universe - but let's take another look at the way that line's phrased.
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You are 'the only of your kind' known to possess this blood.
That doesn't necessarily mean she's the only fuchsia troll, does it? For example, it might just mean she's the only Alternian with fuchsia blood, because the Empress doesn't actually live on the planet.
I really want this to be Mama Peixes, because the existence of a living Ancestor has so much story potential. Just how much does she know, and what's her agenda?
Nevertheless, I take the prediction as truth, and find it amusing that a homeworld domin8ed 8y children will 8e the gr8 summoner's legacy. One of them, at least.
Anyway, the Summoner - the boy who could fly - is the reason Alternia is a planetary Neverland, making it clear that he was the original inspiration for Pupa Pan.
It's also notable that we've only just started delving into Alternian history, and we've already learned about two massive rebellions against the social order. Contrary to what Alternians have been led to believe, this oppressive culture clearly isn't natural to them, and they've been fighting it every step of the way.
They don't want to be a murderous empire - they're forced to be, again and again and again.
More importantly, and less amusingly, his legacy will 8e my demise. You see, I first learned his name when I asked who would 8e the one to kill me.
And here's yet another layer to the Quest Cocoon Incident. Vriska wasn't content with living like Mindfang - she wanted to die like her, too.
Given that Vriska knew about the Summoner, one can only imagine how weird she must have been around Tavros. Not only was she constantly berating him, she was also putting him on this bizarre pedestal, comparing him to someone I'm damn sure he never knew existed.
And she'd never tell Tavros about the Summoner, either, because that would allow him to derive confidence from something other than her tutelage. No - she just silently compared him to a legendary hero, and he constantly failed a test he didn't know he was taking.
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Seems like something's going very wrong in the Veil.
This seems like a sign that the session is on its last legs, and we're running out of time before it completely turns to static. We're entering the endgame.
The oracle I will resolve to part with. I will conceal it in a crypt 8earing the sign of the expatr8, with a map to its loc8tion hidden in this journal.
The cueball was sequestered in an Expatriate chest, which makes me speculate about whether Equius ever got his hands on it.
He can't see inside it himself - but like Mindfang said, it shouldn't be too hard to find a technological workaround, and Equius is a roboticist. I wonder if either Zahhak ever used it for themselves?
To whomever finds it, 8e wary, for the truth it tells may leave its new keeper 8lind as I was. Though no more.
She warned you, Vriska.
She told you it would leave you as blind as she was.
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And it did.
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nevernonline · 1 year
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✧.* grow as we go; smau masterlist
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synopsis: over the past ten years you've fallen in love many times. one day someone happens to stumble across your journal sitting out on your nightstand and started posting your entries online. after all of your secrets are leaked it's clear things would ever be the same again.
𐦍 paring: svt members x afab! reader.
𐦍 feat: non-idol! svt, (g)-idle minnie&soyeon, oc's
𐦍 genre/s: reader is super angsty low-key, fluffy, sexual themes.
𐦍 content: swearing, bullying, crazy ex's, mentions of sexual relations, some drinking& mary jane 🍃
𐦍 start date: october 2nd 2023
𐦍 updates: mainly mondays or thursdays.
𐦍 tag list - open
𐦍 note/s: a lot of what will be written is mainly as journal entries from the readers perspective!! in the beginning every other chapter or so will have a written entry. I'm mainly using ulzzang pictures for our main character. I'll be posting the profiles and introduction sometime tomorrow probably. the girlies love indie musicians & harry styles,srry.. I hope u enjoy, hehe. ily!
𐦍 chapters under the cut.
𐦍 profiles:
001 | 002 | 003
𐦍 journal entries:
part one;
00. introduction.
#1. super sleuths.
#2. the case of the cyberbullies.
#3. two robots fell in love.
#4 the fall of the empire.
#4.5 plan b?
#5. chronic memory keeper.
#6. quit!
#7 snake in the grass.
#8 not the bath mat.
#9 seeing red
#10 nerd heard?
#11 devil in disguise.
#12 stolen heart.
#13 gut feelings and emotional dealings.
#14 dressing for revenge.
#15 leave it to the cullens. (part 1)
#15 leave it to the cullens. (part 2)
#16 the part we play.
#17 happy trails
#18 damage control.
#19 anywhere you go.
#20 lost and found.
#21 we're so back.
#22 end it all.
#23 signing off for now.
#24 epilogue.
part 2; (coming soon)
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lucabyte · 4 months
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thinking about the very specific reading of isat i had during act 3 for the most part
anyway yeah ill ramble here about this. since it actually explains my headcanons for what the disappearing island wish was
disclaimer: taken as a whole this is way too allegorical for what i'd consider a holistic reading of isat, but it was part of my running theories at the time.
anyway my guess for the real-world equivalent of the island ended up being French Polynesia by the end of the game. I had initially thrown a dart at siffrin being greek wrt europe, sisyphus allusion, enjoyment of plays and seafairing-- but the moment that little guy started getting real weird about stars and specified they were from an island i switched my guess to him being polynesian. And then that reading only really strengthened from there (and i was pretty close, tbf!)
but yeah during act 3, especially the king plotline, i started thinking about the themes of cultural erasure + lack of identity that the game has and how that plays wrt vaugarde's extremely welcoming and diverse nature.
reading far too much into it but it made me wonder if they are the results of a fallen empire of some kind. somewhere that gathered people from across the globe (as empires are known to do) before dissolving into what seems to be a localised theocracy of some kind?
like. vaugarde is basically the Good End for an empire. Fully demilitarised (they barely have use for police to the point where the defenders are surprised by burglaries, and almost CERTAINLY have zero army), extremely diverse, not caring where one comes from.
(either that or they've been a socialist utopia like, forever? and thus just aquired migrants perpetually... but ka bue is characterised as harsher by odile in a lot of respects so one can assume its not that the whole planet is Niceys All The Time.)
this lines up pretty well with the um. Whole France Thing. Boy do they own a lot of islands still that they maybe shouldn't. Also lines up with bonnie's word-of-god french creole dialect. So Vaugarde as the welcoming, ideal form of former-colonialiser-nation is like. one i vibe with if we're gonna read too hard into the worldbuilding as presented.
Anyway all this to say I did for a time wonder if the Northern Island wish was 'For The Island To Be Safe'. Assuming this world to have any level of inter-country conflict-- Wish craft is powerful stuff, and a singular island might not be able to defend itself against those seeking to take it by force. Hiding the island from the world would protect it.
... though that felt like an unusually cruel read. The implication that cloistering away like that is a 'valid' strategy for a culture to be safe (albeit with the splash damage of hurting any diaspora).
Plus, wish craft is superbly powerful, with evidently its use on the island only becoming more widespread after it was discovered how to make it work Consistently.
(i work here under the assumption that Siffrin's growing cloak is imbued with wish craft, assumedly the same as the king's armour? Since there's no way that was created at that scale...)
So it almost makes more sense, to me, for the wish to be to 'Protect The World (universe) From Us' or to 'Keep The Universe Safe'.
Wish craft being so second nature to the Islanders (See: Siffrin, favour tree), that a wish that breaks the universe is almost inevitable were the knowledge to become widespread and ingrained.
This too is an oddly cruel read, that a culture's rituals can be dangerous to that degree, but ... ? Dunno. Like I said, reading it as hard allegory makes it fall apart somewhat. Symbols can mean many different things at once until you flatten them for direct analysis like this. I don't think it's quite so 1-to-1, and it's honestly slightly too 'no story only lore' for my tastes, so I did push a lot of this stuff out of my analytical mind once I started getting to the back and of act 3 and into act 4.
Anyway. Not the most coherent explanation in the world, but still some thoughts I had mid-game that i figure i should put somewhere at least, even if I don't think they are really what the game is going for.
As a bonus, the discussions on what the island wish were in this context also lead my friend @samhainian to speculation on the colour wish that i really enjoy. Which is....
The wish that removed colour from humans perception of the world being something along the lines of:
"I wish the world was simpler"
ergo, removing colour as an invocation of Nuiance VS Black and White Morality. The world is simpler, easier to understand.
I think it's a fun headcanon! I like it.
Well anyway. A work is more than the sum of its parts and dissecting something so sloppily as this often does it a disservice. So don't take my theorising as anything more than a general rundown of where my head was at mid-game before i had all the pieces. The emotional core of the story is far more where it's at for ISAT sooooo. [Shrugs and scampers away]
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merao-mariposa · 7 months
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I'm weak for Phil/Missa with a worship focus
Think about this:
We're looking at the angel of death and a reaper of death.
We are seeing the guy who has survived everything since the beginning of time and the guy who keeps dying, and coming back, choosing what he always wants to return to.
They are united more than they should while one wields a sword to defend those he loves, the other clears the clouds in their loved ones path because he loves them! He wants them to be happy!
They will both forever remember those who were in their heart, The Antartic Empire and Team Vacío Legal lives forever, no matter how much time passes because they were loved by Philza and Missa; the most loyal immortals.
Oh! And something more; the focus on their immortality is so unique! When did I meet him I was told that; “The only thing Phil knows is that he has not died yet” But Missa I think is very aware of his death, he died, he died and he came back with a fourth chance when the others had until the third chance to return and he came back from the dead a fourth time. time, he would do it a fifth, sixth and seventh time he would do it all over again because he cares about.
While Philza in life gives everything of himself for people once they earn his loyalty, trust and appreciation. He won't stop being the same emotional-constipate-crow-dude but God knows he will follow his closest friends to the end of the world, he took the world alongside Technoblade and then he would destroyed another next to him! He is a patient crow, domesticated by death herselft (for whom he is waiting patiently to be with her) staying home and being domestic? He can do it, chaotic raiding dungeons and loting everything that makes his “shiny!” Brain go?, he won't say no. This man can do both if the people he cares ask him.
We have years of lore about Phil, I'll be honest. while we don't have much information about Missa but what we do have comes from HIM and US (his community) do you want a prince-ish son of la Santa muerte? He can be, do you want an labor overexploited reaper? poor thing lmao but here him is! Do you want him to be 26 (or more) meters high? well, ask the admins but no one will deny you //I have seen him ominous, savage, bear hybrid, anguished, violent, etc, the limit is in the imagination!
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(You have so many styles)
They worship each other by the way they complement each other. Just by thinking of Philza as the one who has not died, silent and anxious, waiting almost patiently for his complement, his missing half, the father of his children and his husband to return to him after literally being in the center of the end, the end of their life together, the end of watching his children grow and grow, until grow old (even though the mere thought of them aging beyond them breaks him)
After literally being in death and its domain only to choose to return, Missa would never believe in taking away Phil's free will so he's prepared to not see him there, he'll be fine; It is his right. Someone like him with the eternity in front of him would get bored of waiting for a guy like Missa.
Only to arrive and be absolutely adored and hugged till death (again) by his husband. He is happy to see him, he is so glad to see him waiting for him, Philza is happy that not so much of that so-called “time” has passed since the last time he had him in his arms (where Missas belongs to), so happy that their life together is not over yet. A life he loves and a husband he would fight for until he dies.
Obviously he drags him into the house where Missa is absolutely delighted to be welcomed (he always will be) like a crow carrying a new treasure to adore to its hiding place, only that Missa in his soul shines brighter than many of his shinys.
Missa is a reaper of death, literally a part of him feels explicitly built to respond to Phil as his angel or to BBH as a companion of duty, but it's too much, almost too instinctive and natural for him to worship Phil, not that he has a lot of experience but it is nothing like the crush he once had with Quakity, this is more real and deeper than the kiss he shared with Roier.
It's almost like nature for him to adore Philza.
And he doesn't make it any easier for poor Missa, so great and kind, Missa will always be vocal about how incredible and charming his husband is, how much he wants to spend time with him despite the adversities and hazards of the job that he does. prevent, they are worth it as long as he can be under his presence like a cat with sunlight.
It doesn't matter if Phil doesn't want him anymore because Missa is his because he decided it for himself/the skeleton isn't going anywhere, Phil is patient but as long as they are on the same earthly plane of life he is not going to let go of Missa, simply because he is loyal to him (hes also a little chaotic, not above dragging Missa around like putting a collar on a wet kitten)
En conclusión:
DEATHDUO KILL ME YAIIII :DDDD
❗️How we interpret their relationship does not change that Phil took the name “platonic husbands” correctly. (Pissa AND deathduo are totally valid, don't worry, we can get both :D )❗️
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jovial-thunder · 1 month
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Downtimes, module editor, water temple
Happy summer! There's smoke in Portland but it's not too bad. Bless firefighters. Work on Lancer Tactics continues apace.
This month has been mostly focused on the largest heretofore-untouched section of the game: downtimes and the module editor for designing the sequences between combats. We're not planning on doing anything particularly innovative or new in its design — if you've played Banner Saga, Fire Emblem (gameboy versions), or Rogue Squadron you'll recognize what's going on here.
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Repair, level up, have visual-novel-style conversations with companions, do some light choose-your-own-adventuring, and pick & launch the next combat. All pretty standard downtime fare — games have pretty thoroughly explored these patterns as vehicles for narrative at this point.
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The unique thing that Lancer Tactics is offering on this front is an editor to make your own entire campaigns. Classic games like Warcraft or Age of Empires had incredible scenario editors, but making anything more than a one-mission map was solely the domain of modders. Over the last few weeks, we've gotten a full basically-visual-novel-editor working ingame where you can orchestrate NPC story arcs, clocks ticking, branching paths, and triggered events for all the stuff that happens between combats.
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All of the campaigns we ship with the game are going to be made with these same editors, which'll force us to really make sure that they're solid tools. I think it'd be very funny to someday see someone like completely ignore all the mech stuff and just make a visual novel in this engine.
There's no new preview game build this month because adding this big section of the game means too many things are under construction. I'm happy with how fast we've been able to get this going, but making ingame editors is a lot of unglamorous UI piping and data refactoring work. Fingers crossed that it'll come together enough that we'll be able to get the first version of this editor in your hands in time for the next update
Other Changelogs
Carpenter has started re-making the tutorial level from the demo in this new engine, which is pushing us to add a bunch of stuff to the combat editor. I added triggers for playing arbitrary effects on the map, moving the camera, storing arbitrary data to the battle/module states, enabling/disabling/triggering other triggers, AND/OR conditions, and putting execution limits on triggers.
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Triggers can highlight UI or actions (so it can be like "use the boost to get through!" and the boost button becomes all shiny)
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New "camera start" zone type
Added a "hotspot" zone type that has a little floating title, and plastered the names of other zones on the map (visual style stolen from some Foundry VTT modules)
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Added water, whose level can be set via the editor or triggers.
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Added unmounted pilots who can mount up into Shut Down mechs. We continue to plan to not have pilot combat be a part of the core game, but it'll be useful for scenario or scripted sequences.
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Added activation pips and template icons to the mini healthbar on units.
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A bunch more portrait editor assets from Martina, including facial hair. Here's a check Carpenter did where he tried to recreate some official Lancer art ingame. ✨
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Schedule update
Taking a look at our original date for the "bones" of the game ("finishing the battle engine, basic character creation, 2 mechs per manufacturer, and an a 'instant action' mode"), we estimated being able to get it done by the end of November. The emotional milestone for me on this front is getting the game to a complete enough state that I feel OK about swapping it in on the itch.io page.
I've been saying that the 3D cataclysm has pushed us back back about 3 months, and I think that's still holding true. Carpenter and I haven't officially made the call yet, but I think it's likely we'll need that time to port more mech content; here's a graph they made that shows about where we're sitting on the PC and NPC mechs for the "bones" target in terms of mechanics and action icon/sprite. 
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(This data is pulled from a big table they made that includes ALL talents/gear/traits where we've been marking things off as we've implemented them. Very handy for tracking where we are.)
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That's all for now. Tata!
79 notes · View notes
anundyingfidelity · 9 months
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NO SECOND CHANCES — Brother Day/Cleon XVII
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Summary: A lonely space traveler happens to save from a certain death the most annoying person of the entire galaxy, the Emperor.
Pairing: Cleon XVII x female reader.
Word count: 8.1k. (oooops).
Warnings: well, spoilers for whole season 2. Language, angst (the reader wants to die, really). Talks about suicide, talks about suicide attempts, reader having nightmares, PTSD, reader is suffering too. Some hurt/comfort, some fluff? Filthy smut (included but not limited to hand jobs, unprotected sex, oral from both parts, dirty language, etc. etc.), and end of the world sex (to Beki's arsehole bitches yay🥂). Also Cleon refers to the reader as "woman" a couple of times lol. Reader has pierced ears? (wait for it). Bittersweet ending tbh.
Notes: just trying to make slow burn in a one shot because I'm a lazy fucker who doesn't like to write stories with chapters, otherwise I don't finish shit. Uh probably OOC Cleon??? I don't know. Fully inspired by my favorite trope ever: saving the bad guy and making him humble. I don't care we're four people watching Foundation, I need to write about this little piece of shit I love him so much. Cleon XVII is a himbo I said it. Not beta, we die like bitches of the Gossamer court.
☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !
Tagging: @curiouswildi hope you like it 🥺💘
GEN MASTERLIST!
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I. BEYOND
The last thing wandering his mind was Bel Riose. Fucking Bel Riose. That idiot. They had won over him; over him, who was Empire and still meant to be for years ahead. Next, the cold feeling of space was embracing him. But he felt he was not floating around anymore.
Cleon was tied to a surface. It felt like harsh, uncomfortable metal under his back. He slowly forced his eyes open, moving his limbs and trying to escape whatever it was restraining him to do so. His wrists and ankles, as his waist, were tied by a light blue particle field preventing the patient to move at all. He was met with the roof of a ship and equipment, but it wasn't any Imperial one. In panic, he moved until he was able to shake the surface he was on, panting and grunting, feeling some pain and sting resurging all over him. The headache was becoming unbearable and the sounds coming from his dry mouth finally transformed into screams. The room doors opened and a strange voice catched his attention.
"Finally, you're awake."
Cleon obliged to follow the shadow moving around, his eyes focusing to try and see who was talking. He heard steps and the sounds of metal and glass clinking around, probably looking for medication and tools as he was know fully concius. The figure finally came to view by his side.
"I will inject this, so don't move," you said, grabbing his bicep. Cleon was about to protest, but the needle was faster and the medicine was welcomed on his vurnerable system, easing the pain and calming down the headache. "Welcome back, Eminence," you smirked to him.
"And just so, who are you?" he asked chuckling to himself, licking his lips. "What have you done to me?"
"First, I saved your life and cleaned all your bloody wounds. You should say thanks at least," you sat down dangerously close by his side, on the same surface he was on.
"I did not ask you for mercy."
"Oh, but I did," you replied, a smirk on your lips. "Perhaps I shouldn't have, right?" you took a small pencil-like device in your hand from the pocket of your pants and used it to scan his vital signs. You touched his face carefully with your fingers, examining his eyes, his heartbeat, and any anomaly that might be on his system from head to toe, but the scanner found none. Cleon watched you doing so until he asked again, his voice softer this time.
"Who are you?"
"Just no one as important as you are," you said, saving the scanner back.
"Where are we?" Cleon asked, looking around. He observed he was placed in a small medical bay.
"In space, in the middle of nowhere I suppose," you shrugged, getting on your feet again. "It seems you're recovering quite well and fast. At least that's what my scanner says. So first, I think you should want some water, which I am leaving right here," you put a flask on the small table next to him. "And before I give you this to drink, I want to make sure you will not restrain or fight back at me."
He laughed, that narcissistic smile on his face. You wanted to punch him.
"You're no match for me, woman."
"Really? Then I could just throw you out there again, you know, it's not difficult. I'm spending resources on you, surely I won't oppose to that idea," you snapped back.
His smile faded slowly, thinking. If it wasn't for you, he would be dead by now, it was true. But he was so used to be immortal and undefeteable that the situation was kind of new. He only had been vulnerable and exposed to his doctors in the palace, and you were a complete stranger. And still, you had the heart to take him in your ship and save his life. He sighed, rolling his eyes to the ceiling.
"Fuck, fine. What do you want me to do?"
So this was his way of cooperating, you thought.
"After I turn off the restraints, you will have to sit down on the stretcher. I will help you. Do not try to get up yet, you might feel dizzy."
With a nod he said to you the orders were clear. Next, the restraints disappeared in the air with a push on a button and Cleon felt a small relief. As you promised, you helped him to sit and he realized that the clothes he had before were replaced with a set of new pale grey robes that allowed him to move freely. You offered the flask to his lips, but he watched you with a questioning look on his face.
"Is only water, I swear. See?" you had a small sip from the bottle and he looked more at ease after you swallowed the liquid.
You offered the bottle again and helped him to slowly drink. Once he was done, you placed a small tray with fruits and dry seeds on top of the same table beside the stretcher.
"You might want to eat something," you said, breaking the silence under his fixed gaze. Even when he was sitting down and you on your feet it felt rather intimidating. "I'm still collecting supplies and food. You were certainly not part of the plan these days."
"So you travel alone," Cleon said, taking a small red fruit between his fingers and began to eat it.
"I do," you nodded. "Sorry if the taste of the fruit is not pleasant."
"You're doing your best," he said while eating, studying the room around him. You were not sure if he was mocking you or not. "What was your name again?"
You chuckled. "You're very interesting, Empire. Why don't you finish eating and rest before taking a bath?"
The next few hours, you left him to rest and escorted him to your quaters, the only place with a comfortable bed, so he could get proper sleep. Since there were no further questions from him, you got to your business and requested more provisions to the merchants. Traveling alone had made you some contacts and traders, from time to time you would request for food giving in exchange money or rare knick knacks, and within a day you had a small capsule with supplements heading to your coordinates with everything you needed. You just had to wait for now.
After checking the estate of your ship and confirming everything was working correctly, you went back to your quaters to see how the Emperor was doing. You were startled to see him sitting on your bed with a book between his hands. He looked like he just had a bath because his shirt was gone and his hair was wet, some droplets running down his skin. Quickly, you studied him. He was handsome, muscular, his skin had a beautiful tan, and he was tall and heavy as hell, something you noticed when cleaning his wounds and taking him inside your ship. The earring on his left ear was also interesting, you thought, for a member of the most important dinasty of the galaxy. Very rebellious for the emperor.
You also knew he heard you steping in but never looked up from the book because he was the first one to talk.
"Never I could imagine you would have books in here," he said, clearly interested on the pages.
"Yeah, not all of us are barbarians as you work so hard to convice yourself we are."
He chuckled to himself, looking at you for the first time since you entered the room.
"Are you from Korell?"
"The book gave it away, didn't it."
"This is very old," he said, closing the book. "You are for sure not allowed to have this in Korell."
"That is one of the reasons I left," you replied, looking around the place. It was obvious to you that he was pearing within your personal stuff because the old myth book was secured down your mattress. At least he didn't leave a mess and everything seemed in the right place. "I was a threat in my planet so Argo kept looking for me for some conspiracy shit and terrorism when all I did was oppose myself to his repression and freakshow," you continued, his eyes drew back to you. "They wanted me dead in Korell, but I am the only one to decide that, even when and where will it happen."
Cleon shifted on his seat, wondering why you were sharing a piece of your life to him when he didn't even know your name yet. Words and thoughts wandered his head on how would he answer to your words, compassion or empathy sometimes were difficult things to feel. But before he was able to speak, you interrupted his thoughts.
"I will leave you alone to rest for a while and will come back when it's around supper. I follow Kornell cycle of time, so you know... Just don't poke around my underwear, Empire," you dragged his title mockingly.
He laughed softly, going back to his reading.
"Thank you for the idea."
That was the first time you would hear him expressing gratitude.
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II. GHOSTS FROM THE PAST
Around more than a week passed, and Cleon was healing and his wounds were not so visible now. You made sure to inject him every day and gave your quaters and bed for him to sleep and recover. He had took a pad you had in the room so he could count the cycle of days in Trantor. Hardly to admit, he found himself missing home rather than hatred. Sometimes the rage mixed with sorrow, but he forced himself to try and understand that it was a normal feeling due to the sudden lose of everything he once had.
Cleon had been up from some time now as he counted the end of the eighth day on the pad, and wondered why your daily visit was taking so long. It was a habit you had, to come in and wake him up with the medicine, and after it was done, you would tell him to eat some of the fruits and food on the tray you brought for him. He got on his feet and put a shirt on before leaving the room to search for you. On the pilot cabin, you had an improvised, small stickable mattress on the wall that had saved your life before, so you used it to sleep and rest the past few days while he cured. Cleon observed your figure lying down on the mattress, walking slowly and sensing something was not right. He found you shaking and trembling, eyes still closed and chest heavily breathing as your hand held onto dear life what he realised it was a gun.
He felt somehow frightened and confused. If you wanted to kill him, you would already have done it. You had made yourself clear on that. The tremor of your body seemed it was increasing and Cleon, with a gentless he did not know he possesed, tried to soothe you with his voice, removing the gun from your embrace.
"Shh... everything is fine," he mumbled, not sure of his words, his other hand touching your shoulder in soft circles. He was able to withdraw the gun from your hands and placed it on the floating shelf near by.
Your eyes squeezed and some tears flowed down your face as you sobbed still in your sleep. Cleon hesitated on what to do next to wake you up. He leaned again, his hand slowly tracing the skin of your arm, like he did when his brother Dawn was a child.
"Woman? Wake up," he whispered, shaking you a little bit and pating your arm softly, and when he talked again, his voice was a little bit louder. "You're having a nightmare, wake up."
And as he repeated his words over and over, your eyes opened wide, feeling your lungs able to breath again. But your senses still were coming to awareness, and automatically you slapped the face of whoever it was touching your arm. You heard him groan in pain and you rolled over the mattres, until you hit the floor, taking out a small blade from below the makeshift pillow of fabrics you used. The blade pointing at him as you looked around the cabin to find out it was only both of you.
"What- are you okay?!" Cleon questioned with a frown, rubbing his hurting cheek as he remained on the other side of your bed, the only thing separating you from him was the mattress.
"Yes, I'm perfectly fine!"
He rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Of course you are not."
"Then why the fuck would you ask that?! It's obvious I'm not fine!" you yelled. Your body was tense and ready to attack. You felt a knot on your throat, like if you were to cry again. Silence envolved you, trying to calm down. That inner voice in your head began saying it was just a dream, and you wanted to believe it. It was all in your head. It was not real...
"Do you want to kill me?" Cleon's gloomy voice echoed.
"What? No! I would never-"
"Then why are you sleeping with a damn blaster shot and a blade on your bed?!" he confronted, screaming at you, but not daring to move as you also remained standing in the same place.
"Because I wanted to kill myself!" you yelled back, pointing the sharp of the knife to you instead. His face became stern and you realised what you had said, and what was happening. Ashamed, you threw the blade back under the pillow. "Sorry, I don't want you to know that. Forget it."
You wiped the tears on your face under his piercing and concerning eyes. You forced your head to compose and burry your nightmares and memories deep inside before talking.
"I have to inject you," you said and walked back to the room, sure he would follow behind. Once you crossed the doors, you prepared the needle but Cleon remained standing near the exit of your room the whole time, arms crossed over his chest, observing you with utter worry on his face. Why? He really did not know. Probably because you were the only human and intelligent contact he had for days now, and you had the decency to keep him alive. Though he was not going to let that in his head - yet.
"Why don't you seat?" you most likely ordered. Cleon slowly made his way to you and remained standing, tall and kind of threatening. He was Emperor, after all.
"What is wrong with you?" he asked with a careful tone.
"Nothing, Empire. Just sit," you said, coldly, waiting for him to do as you requested.
"No, I need to know," he demanded, coming closer to you, jaw clenching. Anger started taking over your being and held his gaze as you replied.
"I have the right to decide whether or not speak about my personal life, I am not one of your subjects, so sit the fuck down so I can give you the last dosis of this shit."
"I need to know if I can fucking trust you after what I just heard coming from your mouth," his voice boomed around the place.
"You really want to know?! Fine, back in Korell I lost my family, my brother, my parents, my home - everything I had they took it from me! I was the last one alive and I escaped after they killed my brother in front of me and that day is still haunting me," you muttered and felt the tears forming on your eyes, but this time, of rage. "So if it concerns your own well being, like it always has been, no, I will not kill you. But you are no Emperor here, so stop that game. Some of us never gave a fuck about you or the Empire, or the Foundation and Hari Seldon, or the Church of the Galactic Spirit -I don't care! I'm tired, I just want to be free and live peacefully!"
You had not noticed you stepped closer to him, feeling the heat radiating from his body. His face was blank, as if he had been slapped again, but this time to reality. A reality he was not familiar with on his own bubble.
Quickly you grabbed his bicep and injected the dosis with him standing up. He whined in surprise. It was fast. So fast that you just removed the needle from his flesh and left the room.
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III. WHAT YOU REALLY KNOW
According to the Trantor cycle, evening should be now. When you left him alone in the room, Cleon spent the next hours by himself, and since he watched you looking up for garments and food around the ship before, he made sure to get those without speaking to you. Not that you wanted to talk either. He noticed you sitting on the main pilot seat, looking at the stars and the void through the glass the whole day. He got concerned for a moment, but decided to let you be as he, also, understood that some time alone was necessary.
However, Cleon thought to talk to you finally and say something. Anything to get you back to reality and forget your bad dreams. So he found himself making his way to sit on the other chair of the ship. He prepared the words to say inside his head, but it was more difficult to speak out loud.
"I think I owe you an apology," he finally said, taking in the view of space. You nodded slowly your head. Nobody turned to see each other.
"It's nothing. But apology accepted I guess."
"It's not nothing. I rarely thought about what other citizens and planets are going through... I'm so sorry it happened to you."
"I would like to say that was not your fault, but since the Empire withdrawal from Korell, living there definitely became so much worse," you confessed, very aware of the genetic dinasty and some of the things previous emperors did, which did not change much. They were the same man after all. Cloning again and again...
"Probably should apologise for that as well," he said.
"Yeah, it's too late, but thank you."
Cleon could still sense a feeling of resentment in your voice. He thought you were right to feel that way, but he was also going to try and make you understand him.
"I never had a mother, or a father, and my brothers are the same man as me, so it's hard to understand that some people lose their family and loved ones. I was born with that loss already... That's why I wanted to end the genetic dinasty."
"You are the eighteenth?" you asked, not knowing exactly why he was opening to you.
"The seventeenth."
"That's a lot of you though. Do you remember anything from the past?"
"I do not. But our memories are always saved. Everything that happens in Trantor is recorded and kept as data. If I want to know something about a previous Cleon, I would just request it."
You turned your gaze to finally see him, he looked in awe with space as he spoke.
"So what was your motive to destroy a planet?"
He turned his eyes to you. "I believe you didn't care about Empire or the Foundation."
"That doesn't mean I want to see a genocide, your Eminence."
Cleon stirred on his seat, with a strange feeling of guilt, sadness and regret. For some reason, the title falling off your lips made everything worse.
"You saw it," he said. "How? You're no part of the Foundation, at least you're lying to me."
"No, I am not! I did a stupid space jump without course and I ended here, unfortunately." You were growing tired of the conversation. "I don't know why we keep talking. We're both shitty people anyway."
Cleon chuckled, not to mock you, but because of the whole situation you were in together.
"I know you are. Brave enough to kill yourself, taking another life is nothing compared to your own."
You locked your gaze with his, thinking if he was he judging you or flattering you.
"And have you, like, tried to end with your life at some point? You must feel lonely, under the shadow of a clone, not allowing you to be, well, you."
He let out a deep breath, avoiding your eyes.
"I have not, but my genes are already compromised and adultered. No surprise if any of us dared to commit suicide before," he replied, looking to the void. "In any case, if something out of the ordinary is to happen to my brothers or myself, we have another clone with our same memories, same age, everything; prepared to be woken up and take our place. Like if we never existed."
"That's fucked up," you scoffed. "We are never trully free, are we."
You got on your feet to look up for something to eat and forget your small talk. You knew he had searched for fruits and dry food because you heard him moving around and then leaving a couple of times, but you had nothing through the whole day. Cleon followed your steps, leaving enough space between you both as you took a couple of apples, giving one to him.
"The jump, how did you do that?" he asked, taking a bite of the fruit. "You don't have spacers."
"The rebels are smart people. A lot of members of the Foundation replicated your technology."
"I thought you were not involved with them," he insisted.
"I am not, but I would never deny any help. That my support doesn't rely on them doesn't mean I will let a chance slide."
"You're not answering my question."
You pulled the sleeve of your shirt up to show your bare wrist to him. There was the same device Hober Mallow and the Clerics had, inserted on your skin.
"I use this.”
"This is a whisper ship," he mumbled.
"Smart. Yes, sort of."
Cleon scoffed. "So that means we can land somewhere."
"About that, uh, we can't."
He moved to throw the remainings of his fruit with a confused look. "Why?"
He heard your sigh as you covered your wrist again, looking away from his deep eyes.
"I- I threw myself to space because I wanted to kill myself," you started, avoiding his gaze. "I didn't care how long would take me, I just wanted to blow up my ship. Just end everything. But then I saw you, floating, dying... and for some reason I couldn't let you die. I didn't know who you were but I saved you. There's no energy or fuel to make another jump. I don't have that. We are far from what Terminus was now. From any planet, form of life or civilization... plus you are unarmed. You still are weak and anyone could kill you," you finished, and waiting for some reason that he could forgive you for giving him any sort of hope. "I'm sorry, Empire."
Beyond madness, Cleon felt you were worried for him. Not the kind of sentiment his brothers or palace workers would do, but a real one. Because you knew saving him was condemn him to death anyway. But this felt much better than dying alone. He had sins, past despiteful decisions and ghosts hunting him, as so were you. You just addressed your feelings and your life together in less than a day. And you were right, none of you were never trully free, but as crazy as it might be, being lost in space with you felt like freedom to him. Finally, he was far away from everything that was keeping chained to a life and responsibilities he never asked for, living under the shadow of an egotistical emperor.
There was a strong impulse growing inside him and before his rational voice began to scream it was a bad idea to continue, he had cupped your cheeks between his hands and his lips pressing hungrily against yours. You whined, surprised of the warm feeling of his mouth, his tongue hurriedly asking for permission to taste you. When oxygen was not enough you pulled away, shocked and panting. You barely noticed your hand around his forearm, recovering yourself from the best kiss you had in some time.
"Cleon," he whispered, kissing your lips one more time.
"What?"
"Just call me Cleon. I'm not Empire anymore."
You kissed him in response with the same eagerness he had before, heart beating strongly in your chest. His hands caressed every inch of your body, from your neck, breasts, your hips, your soft thighs, your ass... he touched you with desperate fire while you moaned against his mouth, liking where was this leading you, more than you wanted to admit.
That was the first time you gave in to him completely.
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IV. TO LOVE AND TO BE LOVED
You moaned against his lips, those that forcefuly broke the heated kiss you shared as he ruts into you desperately to reach his own climax. His flesh hitting against yours made an obscene harmony that echoed the confines the ship, far from civil and coherent noises fell from his lips as he sucked into the skin of your neck.
"Fuck, yes, right there," a broken whimper escaped your throat, your nails scratching his back, your walls clenching around his cock. "Cleon..."
The sound of his name being moaned by your sweet, raspy voice, caused him to slow down his thrusts just a bit.
"I still don't know your name," he whispered, bitting your bottom lip only to kiss you wet again.
"And yet you're fucking me, isn't that enough?" you teased, rolling your hips to meet his own.
He gave you a smirk, that fucking handsome smirk you hated so much. He took you with his strong arms, flipping you around so he was now on his back and you got control on top of him. You sinked down his dick setting a reckless rhythm, his thrusts matching yours every time you went down, his grip hard on your waist, marking and bruising your skin. One of his hands massaged your bouncing breasts, one after the other, pinching and then, you felt his mouth biting your nipples and chest, as he leaned your body to him for easy access, with slow grunts and groans that didn't sound human anymore.
His cock repeatedly hit that sweet spot from the position you were taking him, increasing the tension inside you. The sensation of his hands coming back to your sides and making its way to your ass cheeks to guide your bouncing hips became too much so soon. You cried as you felt drunk and high, muscles tense as you finally came. Cleon held you tight, fucking into you as you reached sweet release. His tongue traveled down your collarbone and breasts.
"Cleon," you moaned, your hands on his chest to support your body better. You felt him twitch inside you, knowing he was dangerously close too. Quickly, you slid off him, taking his girth, slick with your own wetness, between your hand you pumped him hard, easing his own release. His seed coated your palm, sprinkling on his abdomen.
"Shit, you're great," he praised, voice dark from lust. His fingers tangled into your hair, his forehead against yours as you recovered from the intense sex session you had for the second time that day. He kissed you sweetly, like a sweetness he only had discovered in the short time with you. "I wish I could know your name."
"You can call me your savior," you gave him a playful smile.
After a shared lazy kiss, you got on your feet, legs still shaking, and left the bed to clean yourself in the small place you called bathroom right next to the only room of the ship. Once finished, you threw the cloth away, and looked directly the mirror, or poor attempt of it. In the damp glass, you watched Cleon appear to embrace your body against his, your back touching his chest muscles and his hands roamed your abdomen while he left butterfly kisses on your shoulder. His big arms around you, pressing your figure to his own, huge in comparison entrusting protection.
The nineteenth day it was, and you spent it exploring your pleassures, talking nonsense and overall for Cleon, thinking he might love you. The confinement had flourished different kinds of feelings and sentiments inside his heart. He finally learned to feel something else besides hatred, power, or selfishness. The more you spoke to him, the more he grew to like you. You were far from perfect and so was he, and the way you opened your heart to him - the man who was to wed a powerful queen, govern thrillions of people around the galaxy and kill a few others - caused him to feel unworthy of anything coming from you. The man he grew up to be slowly disappeared as long as you had him under your light and spirit; his old self was fading away. And it scared him, but excited him at the same time. Even when he was very aware you were near the end together, he had nothing to ask for but to perish with you.
"What's in your head?" you whispered.
Cleon had no longer been tasting the skin of your neck, his chin pressed on your shoulder instead with his mind running a million thoughts by now. He took a glance at the damp and dirty mirror of how perfect you looked, bare and exposed in body and soul, only for his eyes to witness the true beauty of being alive. Of being human.
"You."
A loving smile curled up on your lips, looking directly into his enamoured gaze through the mirror. He decided he wanted to remember you like this in the afterlife.
You finished marking the last spot with an 'x', a wide grin over your face.
"I won."
"Yet again," Cleon chuckled. His laugh had grew sincere with you as he settled on the floor on the cold floor of the pilot cabin, just giving enough space for the board between you and him. "And what is your question, person-I-not-know-the-name-of?"
You just had finished playing another round of a silly game. It was an old Terran game, and you were surprised it made it this far across the galaxy. It was good to pass the time though. It kept you and Cleon thinking about other things besides dying. The fuel and energy, along with the water, were lowering on their levels. Food on the other hand was not a worry, you knew you could request to the traders as long as energy was functioning to make communication with them. However, the energy of your ship had to be loaded in land, just like fuel. And you had no place to go now to do that.
Being together as long as you had the resources was the main goal now. So many things crossed your mind as you talked about everything and nothing at the same time the past days.
"Have you ever been in love?" you asked after some time thinking.
You thought maybe it was the first time in Cleon's life that he was finally able to think and behave on his own, with no burdens about a dinasty to protect or pleasing his council.
He was taken by surprise as you spoke. He immediately remembered Demerzel, his loyal advisor. His relationship was merely sexual, but there were no feelings that would assimilate to what love is in reality. For sure, his own clone should have been woken up by now with no further consequences. For Cleon, it felt like he was actually erased from existence forever. He was disposable, just like his brothers. But thinking about your question, his answer was no. He never knew what love was. Not from Demerzel, certainly not from Dusk, Dawn was slightly different though, he did love Dawn but not the way you were referring to. He never knew the love from a mother or a father, nor family. Sareth hated him, so even if they got to marry he knew there would be no space for such sentiment. His own future children with the Queen of Cloud Dominion would have grown up without an essential part of being human.
"No," Cleon finally gave an answer, his gaze went soft as he realised what you just became to him in a matter of days. "However I sense something different when I am with you. And I don't recall to know what that is."
You smiled. "Isolation tends to create adjustments in those who suffer it."
"And have you?" Cleon asked back. "Have you ever felt it before?"
"I did... With my parents, my brother, my best friends, and a couple of assholes who broke my heart."
He chuckled, admiring the charm you had to brush off the hardships in your life. You smiled back at him. Gods you loved seeing him like this, like if he was happy and nothing had happened.
"And how is it?" he said.
"It's affection, it's addictive, not everyone can escape from it. You feel like you belong somewhere, that your life is strangely complete," you mumbled, locking your gaze with his own. "And it hurts a lot. But as you go through that path, you get to know the most beautiful kind of pain."
"Does it hurt now?"
You swallowed hard, that familiar knot on your throat. You were not expecting to feel this way. Not for the Emperor, not for the clone, not for Cleon. Yet one does not control love. You don't decide to love someone without a reason. And what else could two lost souls do in the middle of the galaxy with no purpose but to wait and die? You had opened your deepest fears and secrets to him, not expecting Cleon doing exactly the same. He trusted you and you trusted him. You slept in the same bed, ate the same food and fruits, fucked like animals everyday and yet there was an emotional connection in between you thought would never know again after so many years. How could you not fall for him when everything was crumbling? Finally, you nodded your head, feeling the tears burning in your eyes.
"I always have been alone, Cleon, but my soul seems to have a little love to give. In the end, love is what makes us human."
Cleon put the board of the game away and leaned closer to you, his hand caressed your cheek, cleaning the tears falling down your face as he pressed his forehead with yours. He kissed you softly, swallowing your pain, as a way to say he was hurting too.
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V. VOYAGE
It was the thirtieth day on the ship.
Your last try to get and land in any planet failed. As much as Cleon told you to stop, that everything was fine, you felt you had to keep trying until your last day. But the ship was basically to zero fuel and soon energy will follow. You used the control panel of the ship, hopefuly to find a near by land, but luck was not on your side. There was nothing. You don't know exactly how many miles you traveled with no course for a month. It was getting beyond bearing.
Frustrated, you pulled away the holo of the map and the calculations you did in the air, throwing a lose screw of your seat directly to the glass. It did nothing, but you were starting to hate the view of the stars and nothingness sorrounding.
"I told you to stop that," you listened to Cleon, who seemed just arrived to the pilot cabin.
"I had to try," you stood up, walking towards him. Your arms embraced his waist and he took you in with the same warmth.
"You're worried."
"I am not," you whined. "I should have sent for help with the merchants."
Cleon broke your hug and cupped your face between his hands, leaning closer to you.
"No, we should end this now," he whispered, his brows furrowed.
"No!"
"Why not? You wanted to do it even before you found me."
"Because now ending me is ending you too!"
Cleon felt your pain, but there was no other option to make than to blow up the ship anyway. Even if you were to land somewhere, what was for him? You were not able to go back home, and Cleon was discarded at this point. The throne could not have two of the same in the middle. Hiding and running away sounded like a good choice, but still, where? There was nothing left, but he found comfort with you.
"I am okay with this," he said. "I told you. You have to do it."
"Cleon-" you plea was cut by his voice.
"How much time do we have?"
"I don't know, a couple of days at last."
"Then do it. You said you were to decide when and how you would die, this is the time," he remembered with a stern voice. "Take it."
You let out a shaky breath and pushed him to press your lips to his own, like saying goodbye. But you still would not accept this fate. Not like this. You kissed him with hunger and need, your tongues tangled up as your mouths danced together.
"I just have- I can't yet," you mumbled once the kiss was over, leaving you both seeking for air. "Can we just fuck each others brains again and pretend none of this happened for a moment?" you asked against his lips, your hand now on his cheek, caressing the stubble on his face. You always remembered to help him shave and that was one of the most normal things you had to do since you found yourself confined with him. The most casual and mundane things to do became
He nodded. "Yes, my love.”
Cleon kissed your lips with the same hunger and desire, his hands caressing every inch of you until he lifted you up, your legs quickly went around his waist. With eyes closed, you let him guide you to the bar fixed against the wall of your ship.
He made sure to throw everything that was on the surface to the ground to place you in there. Once you were sitting, he pulled your legs apart to stand in the middle of them, and full with lust, his lips and teeth marked your neck and collarbone. You moaned sweetly, palming his groin still covered with the fabric of his pants. He traveled down your breasts, kissing over your shirt until he took it off. He was lucky you decided not to wear bra anymore. He sucked on your tits and nipples, grinding his hips against your hand.
You tried to pull his pants away, but he finished the job first, pulling away from your chest. After his pants were discarded, his shirt followed. He also got used to no underwear so he stood exposed all for you. A true god he was, looking perfect and like if every inch of his body was created for you to worship completely.
Cleon hurried in getting you out of your clothes, and in minutes you were naked and feeling his tongue dancing on your belly. His fingers and massive hands teasing your thighs, avoiding the place where you needed them the most. You moaned when he finally used a single digit to rub your slit, collecting your wetness. He rubbed your clit, mouth going slow and dangerously close to your pussy.
You laid your back on the bar and Cleon grabbed your thighs to have you exactly at the edge of the surface, ready to eat from your heat.
"Cleon," you cried out his name, your fingers tangled on his hair as his tongue licked your most sensitive parts.
He kept your hips in place, fucking you with his tongue and licking your folds, going to your clit. You couldn't help but whimper and moan, removing his hair to see just how much he yearned your cunt.
You tried to roll your hips but his grip was too strong. He looked up to lock his dark gaze with you, his humming creating strong vibrations down your core. He played some more, using a finger to tease your entrance. You were about to cum just by watching him.
"Cleon, please-" you gasped when he inserted a finger inside you, thrusting slowly. "Please, I want to taste you too."
He stopped, looking your flushed face for a moment. Your eyes were begging to suck him right now. He released your pussy with an obscene sound, pulling his tongue and hand away, but your wetness still shined on him. You got on the ground with his help and started to kneel down, kissing his skin, from his chest and then abdomen, licking and biting to leave your marks on his sculptured muscles. You made sure to adore and suck the skin of his navel, knowing he was insecure with not having a belly button. Still without it, he was more human than he could ever get to accept because you have seen that on him.
Cleon grunted once your hand wrapped around him, his hand on your scalp. You gave him a far from innocent look from your position before licking the head, rolling your tongue around it, lubing it with your saliva. His desperate groans led you to wrap your lips around him, pumping with your hand what you couldn't reach with your throat yet. You had to learn he was big for you, so a little of warm up for your mouth was a good start.
He cursed under his breath, thrusting his hips a little to go further, slowly, and you welcomed his cock with a small gag once he reached the back of your throat. He moaned darkly, your rubbed your thighs together when he started to fuck your mouth. Both his hands taking the sides of your head as you choked and gagged around his lenght. You felt him throbbing but he quickly pulled out, and left you empty and with drool falling from your lips, your pussy now aching and clenching around nothing.
"So beautiful," he purred, the touch on your scalp soft now. "But I want to finish inside you."
You nodded, obedient. Cleon helped you to sit down on the bar again, he stayed between your legs, spreading them wide, you held onto him, arms around his neck. He entered slowly, the warmth of your walls swallowing his cock, inch by inch, until it disappeared completely inside your dripping cunt.
You shivered, broken moans falling from your lips. Cleon muffled your low cries with kisses, waiting for you to get used to him.
"Fuck me, Cleon," you mumbled against his swollen lips.
He complied happily, thrusting and pounding into your heat, with a frenetic and brutal pace you had learn to love. You hid your face in the crook of his neck, yor nails scratching his arms and back. His cock touched all the right places inside you and he whispered sweet nothings into your skin, fucking you right under the light of the stars and the void of space.
He moaned along with you, wishing heaven or whatever it was after felt exactly like this. Like you, with your arms around him, your sweet voice calling his name lovingly and whimpering for more, giving your soul to him and only him. Your walls started to clench and his hips stuttered, aproaching a craving release. But in between, he heard a word against his ear you never mumbled before, turning his lustful eyes to you and slowing down his thrusts.
You repeated it again, he was visibly confused but kept ruting into you.
"My name," you said, fingers now caressing his hair.
He smiled. He knew it now. The stranger who saved him had a name after all. Cleon kissed you fiercely, repeating your name again and again between wet kisses. You were close to release, feeling one of his digits rubbing your clit as you moaned together. The wave of electricity took your body first, clenching your pussy around his cock. Cleon followed soon after, rhythm slow and tense muscles, until he spilled inside you, coating your sensitive cunt with his seed.
Catching your breath, you remained together. He sucked on your neck softly, your name was the only thought inside his mind. And as much as you loved his touch on you, you remembered there was something to do still.
"Cleon," you called, getting his attention and feeling he was pulling out of you with a low groan. He looked at you with loving eyes and you smiled. You brushed his hair with your fingers pulling him to yet another smooth kiss. "It's time."
He knew it was. In silence his fingers found his earring, twitsting it and pulling it apart. He took it from his ear and placed it on yours carefully. You were always amazed at his touch, how rough and yet soft and gentle he could be.
"So you can remember me," he smiled when he was over. You let out a laugh and curved your llps in a grin. "It suits you."
"Thanks, Cleon."
Cleon leaned down to kiss you one more time before cleaning both of you. You dressed together as if you were not about to meet finally death. For some reason, you saved everything that was not on their cabinets or initial positions, packing all you could, like if you could take those belongings with you, most of which were from your family. One day Cleon asked why you had clothes that could meet his height, being taller than a lot of people around. You told him it was from your best friend. You thought every piece of clothes or souvenirs would help someday, but it never crossed your mind that it was going to be this way.
When everything was was done, you and Cleon settled in front of the control panel, however, before you could start the holo, a loud explosion could be heard. You frowned, turning to Cleon.
"Did you-? Ah!"
The ship almost overturned as something heavy hit the side, making you trip and fall over with Cleon on the ground. Again, an explosion was heard, far from the ship but clear enough to say it was getting closer, and seconds later, the ship got hit but this time on the glass, almost breaking it over. Quickly, you both stood up and saw what was happening.
"A black hole..."
"Look, there are debris around," you pointed a huge piece that looked the size of your ship, but that definitely was part of a much bigger one. You saw the debris and metal being swallowed and destroyed by the black hole. It wasn't pacing fast, but wasn't slow either. It looked like it was talking its time for much bigger things to eat, such as your ship. Cleon called you, taking your hands and pressing his forehead to yours. You could feel he was shaking, and your skin grew cold. You realised it was really happening now.
"Do it," he said. "Destroy the ship."
After a moment of hesitation, you gave a nod. He kissed you deeply again. You turned the holo to activate the ship and program its own destruction.
"Self-destruction mechanism activated," the computer confirmed.
"We have sixty seconds," you mumbled, tears already forming in your eyes. He cut you off with a kiss. You would miss those warm lips on yours.
"That's enough for me," he said. You smiled and he did the same.
"I love you, Cleon," you embraced his body with a hug. "I am happy I met this kind of pain with you."
He cupped your cheeks, pecking your lips, smiling down at you, saying I love you too. You, the one who saved him and gave him a second chance. Or at least a moment of relief. A place and a person who allowed him to be himself and find things he never knew would have.
"We have more in common now," he whispered. "We are both alone and hurting somewhere in the galaxy.”
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valtsv · 1 year
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im curious about your thoughts, would you talk a little about the theme of gender in the terror? i just enjoy your perspective!
okay i can't promise you the properly formatted essay with footnotes and citations i would love to write given the time and energy, but sure, i'd love to. because the theme of gender is central to the terror, particularly regarding the victorian ideal of masculinity, as a part of the greater overarching narrative theme of social constructions and structures being stripped away, and what and who remains after (crozier even explicitly remarks to fitzjames at the beginning of episode 7 that the remains of their civilization which they're clinging to for a sense of comfort and stability will begin to 'fall and drop away' as they travel further). we see this not just in the case of fitzjames, whose national identity and sense of selfhood we're given some insight into through the lens of gender, both with the iconic dress scene and his subsequent choice to dress as britannia, the feminine symbol of british imperial power, for carnivale - a juxtaposition which emphasizes the contrast between his private and public personas, and between the moment of vulnerability and honest self-expression in the scene where he holds up the dress and smiles at his reflection, and the ironic mask he dons for carnivale as a shield to conceal his doubts and insecurities, and any 'shameful' desires he might have - but also, for example, in the case of collins, who in the same episode seeks out goodsir, whose emotional availability and honesty have earned him the derision of his crewmates in the forms of scornful looks and derogatory comments denouncing his mannerisms as 'womanish' and thus shameful, but which only become increasingly necessary and shared amongst more of the men as they're forced to rely more and more on one another for support, and societal expectations of how they should conduct themselves become increasingly irrelevant, their fragility exposed and found wanting. collins is rebuffed and reprimanded by dr. stanley in episode 6, who dismisses his emotional distress, but in the following episode with goodsir he's encouraged to confide in him and, upon doing so, breaks down in tears and shares a desperate hug with him in full view of their camp; actions which would have been confined to privacy if they were allowed to be expressed at all earlier on. everywhere, cracks are beginning to show in this ideal construct of masculinity that the men were once expected and so proud to uphold.
silna's presence also highlights the themes of gender, and how they intersect with race and ethnicity; she is almost exclusively referred to as a 'girl' by the men of the expedition despite clearly being both a grown women and far more competent at surviving in the arctic than they are. the empire and its subjects' unwillingness to accept that someone who is both a native to the region and a woman could be more knowledgeable and better equipped than they are to deal with the situation leads them to assert their perceived superiority through how they address and refer to her, using the infantilizing language of 'girl', which although i believe the use of was more common in victorian england than it was today, nonetheless carries these implications, particularly when it's almost exclusively the only term they use to describe her. even those men who are more open to accepting the need to rely on the knowledge and support of the indigenous peoples of the region in order to survive there, such as crozier, don't begin to realize this until it's already too late. we also see the weaponization of femininity as a badge of shame of weakness with, as aforementioned, goodsir, and with hickey when he says to gibson that he "was such a good wife to me all these months" in order to get under his skin after gibson declares their relationship to be over.
we also see this victorian ideal of masculinity physically begin to 'fall away' as the men's bodies and minds deteriorate due to the extreme conditions they find themselves in. as sickness and despair set in, the men are no longer physically able to uphold this construction they've been told their whole lives it is vitally important that they strive to maintain in all their undertakings, further compounding the horror of their experience, but also liberating them. hickey again takes advantage of this, too, demonstrating his intelligence and quick, pragmatic thinking when he castrates irving's corpse after murdering him in order to threaten the remaining shreds of the men's masculinity and inflame them into rash, reactive action. and fitzjames comes full circle in his own gender-influenced narrative when he confesses his long-carried shame to crozier, finally unburdening himself of the idea of 'james fitzjames' that he built on the foundations of that masculine ideal the society he lived in values so highly and as a result is able to let himself lean on a fellow man for support and shed tears for the first time (that we see onscreen at least), and when he asks crozier to euthanize him to help him out of his suffering in his final moments - both poison and suicide have traditionally earned a reputation as means used by 'women and cowards' to escape the brutal reality of death, but they allow fitzjames to die with as much dignity and the least amount of suffering as the at that point truly desperate circumstances allow, and far more than the more ideally masculine, imperial british glory he once aspired to of death in combat or without any medical assistance to ease his passing would have.
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