#*comes back with this without elaborating

[kookiedeadbutterflies]

I’ve seen some people confused about why Bedelia couldn’t be “the one” when it came to Hannibal. I’m not sure if that’s a question based on Hannibal needing a woman to be in his life instead of a man or otherwise, but the major factor is Bedelia was able to see and understand Hannibal, but she never ever accepted him. Didn’t even remotely match his freak.

Hannibal and Bedelia were capable of having insightful and intelligent conversations and that was one reason he did adore her to an extent, but that was never enough. Although she did seek thrill and danger in Hannibal, Bedelia immediately failed all of his tests in Europe. She was constantly nervous, found the thought of him killing and eating her as terrifying, and cowered in fear when faced with brutally murdering another person. She just played the part of the “wife” until she could make her escape. She never brought anything new to the table. She never challenged him. Never stimulated him. Never transformed him the way Will Graham did.

And she knows this. Some part of her is glad she gets to see another day, yet another is striving to keep her elaborate facade alive because she fears falling into obscurity. She doesn’t visit Hannibal, yet she welcomes his recipe cards. She knows there’s a potential future of her being killed and eaten, but she likes that he’s still thinking about her in some way. She finds Will coming back into her orbit a nuisance, yet she still welcomes him to sessions anyways.

She already lost, yet she’s still trying to find a way to be relevant without participating. Trying to find a loophole of sorts without actually getting involved.

“Can’t live with him. Can’t live without him”

She doesn’t just say that to Will because she knows that’s what he feels. She knows that feeling intimately, because that’s how she feels. And probably anyone else who’s been touched by Hannibal and became irrational.

BEDLIA SAW IT ALL. SHE ALWAYS DID.

“Is Hannibal… in love with me?” “Could he daily feel a stab of hunger for you and find nourishment in the very sight of you? Yes. But do you ache for him?”

Let’s be very clear: Bedelia Du Maurier is the only character who walks into Season 3 knowing exactly what story she’s in.

Everyone else — Will, Jack, Alana is still playing chess. Bedelia is reading the damn script.

She knows Hannibal is dangerous and not just intellectually. She knows he devours not just bodies but identities. And she knows he’s not just obsessed with Will he’s metaphysically bound to him.

She doesn't ask “Does Hannibal love Will?” to be provocative.

She asks because she’s already calculated the cost of being the woman standing between a god and his chosen disciple.

She warns Will. She warns Hannibal. She tries, for a time, to curate her own survival. But what makes her tragic is that she knows she’s not a participant in their story. She’s a footnote. An observer. A ghost inside the theatre.

She’s poised, brilliant, manipulative yes. But she’s also in survival mode, almost always.

Her actions are strategic not seductive. Her elegance is armor, not allure.

She’s not trying to win Hannibal. She’s trying to outrun him.

But she still ends up seated at that long table. Alone. Dressed like the final girl in an opera. Awaiting her own consumption

Not screaming. Not crying. Waiting.

Because Bedelia always knew this was the ending.

She just hoped she’d find a loophole.

SHE'S THE ONLY CHARACTER WHO SEES LOVE AS VIOLENCE

Let’s revisit this exchange:

Will: Is Hannibal... in love with me? Bedelia: “Yes. But do you ache for him?”

This isn’t just Bedelia being sly.

This is Bedelia translating Hannibal's hunger into a divine, destructive force.

She names it. She gives it language.

Not lust. Not obsession.

Ache. Sacrament. Ritual. Death.

She knows Hannibal doesn’t want to possess Will. He wants to transform him. Through suffering.

And Will — Bedelia knows — wants it too.

[silvrash-797]

@kikker-oma @smilesrobotlover @imtoogayforthismortalcoil the fic you've been waiting for is here! My only entry for Fan Joy July, based on this art!

Febuwhump 2025 - Where Loyalties Lie

Chapter 1 - Bound and Gagged

Read on ao3

“Move, boy,” the masked man growled. 

Warriors stumbled on weary legs, head foggy and disoriented, trying not to choke as the movement made him move counter to the blademaster that was using his scarf as a leash. The hot desert sun beat down on his head, shoulders, and back, heating his spaulder to near-unbearable levels and causing sweat to saturate the gag shoved in his mouth. The ropes pinning his wrists behind his back pinched weirdly around his gloves and bracers; he tried to wiggle them to get blood circulating again, to little effect.

The sand beneath his boots shifted, sending him crashing to one knee. The man yanked on his scarf, and Warriors fell to the desert floor, twisting so he didn’t get a nose full of sand. The movement allowed him to see Wild, similarly bound and gagged, doggedly following behind him, dragged by his own Yiga soldier. Lacking anything to use as a leash, the Yiga had tied Wild's hands in front of him and used another length of rope instead.

And to think, mere hours ago, he’d been at a comfortable inn, rising early to help Wild prepare breakfast for the Chain. Whatever drug these people threw into the kitchen to incapacitate them had allowed them to be taken halfway across Hyrule without any resistance. 

Warriors watched anger, concern, and determination flash across Wild's face before he had to focus on getting back up or risk being dragged along the sandy floor. Regaining his feet, he cast one last glance toward his brother as a looming fortress came into sight.

Determination and sorrow warred in Wild’s features. His eyes flicked urgently toward his hands. Warriors looked down in time to see the soldiers’ shorthand for “I’ll come back for you,” flicker across his brother’s fingers.

Wild took a few quicker paces to give himself some slack. Swiftly, he twisted, snatched his slate from his hip, activated it, then disappeared amidst strings of blue light.

Warriors' eyes widened. Shock coursed like ice through his veins as he was left suddenly and inexplicably alone; he almost bit the dust again when his feet refused to move.

Shouting erupted from the throats of his captors, in a language he couldn’t bother puzzling out. Numb, betrayed, disheartened, he followed his captors through the arched entrance into a large room that stank of incense and rotting fruit. The cloying scent made his eyes water.

Shifting sand became packed earth became cut and fitted stone as they progressed further inside. The upside down eye of the Yiga stared at him from all sides, on walls, fixtures, hanging bunting, and people alike. So many eyes reminded him horribly of the Temple of Souls. Revulsion and nausea curdled in his gut; the hair on the back of his neck prickled painfully.

Finally, they arrived at an audience hall of sorts: a large room, with seats around the outside edge and a central dais with a throne-like structure placed on top. 

The person relaxing on the throne – clearly the leader based on the huge white collar, elaborate top-knot, and six-horned mask – looked fat and indolent. The massive soldier behind him, though, exuded competence and danger, from his twin top-knots and four-horned mask to the pair of katana sheathed at his sides. 

The blademaster that had been dragging Warriors along stopped abruptly and stepped to the side. He left one leg extended; Warriors tripped over it before he even realized it was there. He twisted as he fell, doing his best to land on his spaulder and spare himself a bloody or broken nose. The impact rattled his chest  and knocked the wind from his lungs; his eyes watered as he choked on the meager air he could pull in through his nose.

Gloved hands grasped his hair by the roots, yanking him to his knees and holding him upright. He yelped and struggled, to no avail. The hand in his hair forced him to look directly at the fat leader, who merely stared with no reaction.

Finally, he sat up, and spoke. “I thought you said you had the hero?” His voice was brassy and showy, the voice of a man used to giving commands and being obeyed.

Wars swayed as the guard next to him shifted. “…He got away,” the man finally uttered.

The leader crossed his arms over his stomach and stomped his feet, looking for all the world like a child throwing a tantrum. “I asked you to capture the Hero! Why is that so difficult?!” He huffed a sigh, then tilted his head at Wars. “Who is this?”

“He was with the Hero, Master Kohga.”

Master Kohga stroked his chin. “Hmm. A comrade? A companion?” He leaned a bit closer. “A counterpart, perhaps?”

Warriors shuddered at the veiled threat, but kept his face impassive. Until he knew exactly what these people had to do with Wild, he would remain silent.

Master Kohga hopped down from his throne and swaggered toward Warriors, leaning down and getting into his face. “Tell me, Mr. Scarf Man, will the hero come for you? Or will he leave you to rot in our clutches?”

Wild's fingers, signing a promise of his return. Betrayal, too many times to count, by men he once called family. Could he be trusted?

Warriors kept his thoughts off his face and raised an eyebrow, unable to respond even if he’d wanted to thanks to the gag still in place.

“The strong, silent type, huh? We’ll see how long that lasts. Take his gear!” Kohga barked, taking a few steps back.

A handful of footsoldiers sprang into action, swiftly removing Warriors’ belt, pouches, sword, shield, scarf and spaulder. The hand still in his hair and the ropes around his wrists prevented him from doing anything more than wriggle uncomfortably. 

Warriors schooled his features and shoved the oily thought of hands on him to the back of his mind.

“Still won’t talk, huh?” Master Kohga slouched petulantly, then sprang upright. “Aack, I’m hungry. Sooga! Get him to talk!”

“Yes, Master Kohga,” the giant behind the throne intoned. The depth, solemnity, and undying loyalty in his voice sent chills up Warriors' back.

Kohga left the room, and Sooga paced slowly down the stairs. The giant man stood silently in front of Warriors, arms crossed over his chest.

Warriors' skin crawled at the intensity of Sooga's unseen scrutiny.

Finally, the man spoke. “Untie him, but keep him restrained. Remove everything. Waist up.”

No! No, no, no…Warriors struggled and thrashed, heedless of the hand in his hair, powerless to stop the Yiga as greedy fingers removed his vambraces, gloves, tunic, chain mail, and undertunic. The oily feeling of other hands on his skin burned, and he whimpered softly through the gag.

Through it all, Sooga stood and stared, impassive as a statue.

Warriors tried to control his breathing, but he knew he couldn’t hide the tremors taking up residence just under his skin. He tried to glare defiantly, but somehow he knew Sooga could sense his innermost weaknesses.

Warriors startled when at last Sooga broke his silence. “Tie him to the frame.”

“Yes, Commander Sooga!”

A flurry of hand signals, a flutter of paper talismans, and Warriors suddenly found himself choking on foul, red smoke in an entirely different room. 

A slanting ray of sunlight fell on a wooden frame, like a cross tipped to the side. The beams were expertly slotted together, then a supporting crossbar was lashed firmly in place with thick ropes. 

Before Warriors could assess how he could escape from the Yiga and retrieve his gear they’d hauled him to his feet, dragging him toward the frame.

Warriors struggled in their grasp, throwing his weight around, trying to free himself. He managed to launch his head backward into one of the Yiga’s faces, vicious satisfaction rippling through him at the audible crack as he broke the man’s mask, nose, or – hopefully – both.

A gloved fist crashed into his hairline in retribution; Warriors reeled and went limp. Blood dripped down his left cheek and he blinked, trying to scatter the stars flooding his vision.

He felt wood at his bare back and against the fronts of his wrists; the scrape and chafe of rope securing his wrists tightly and firmly in place brought him back to himself. Before he could so much as blink, the Yiga crossed his right leg over his left and tied his ankles together, forcing him to stand on only one foot at a time.

With Warriors thoroughly restrained and immobilized, the Yiga cackled and scattered like cockroaches.

Alone.

It had been a while – between his siblings, fellow soldiers, and the Chain – since Warriors had been truly alone. The uncanny silence, broken only by his nasally panting and racing heartbeat, chiseled at the spot between his eyes and set his head pounding. 

Focus! First thing first. Assess the situation. Warriors pricked and twitched his ears, listening. No cackling, no shuffling, no breathing beside his own. No enemies, good.

He turned the majority of his attention to his predicament. The Yiga had stretched his arms wide, tying them level with his head and significantly behind. Between that, his one-legged stance, and the crossbar at his back, uncomfortable didn’t even scratch the surface in describing his position.

He tried testing the strength of the ropes around his wrists, to see if he could slip free. Streaks of lightning shot up his arms and coalesced between his shoulder blades. He gasped, almost choking on the gag still in his mouth. Reflexively, his shoulders tried to draw up to his ears to ease the pain, but it only served to exacerbate it.

Warriors grit his teeth against the gag and consciously relaxed. Despite that, his shoulders and chest twinged with leftover tension, and he groaned lightly through the gag.

His ears twitched at the slight puff of air behind him, the sensation of someone approaching from behind. The cold, sharp tip of a blade touched the back of his neck and he stilled, waiting.

The blade slit the back of the gag, loosening it from his face. “Are you ready to talk now, soldier?” Sooga’s deep voice of resonated in his ear. Footsteps paced languidly behind and around the frame, and the giant man stopped in front of Warriors, removing the gag and standing impassively with his arms crossed.

Warriors worked his jaw back and forth, alternating stretching and clenching, trying to relieve the soreness. Finally, he collected his voice and stared up at the giant blademaster. “No,” he rasped. 

Commander Sooga stood still, only the slight clenching of his fists showing that he’d even heard Warriors. Warriors' heart pounded as the silent seconds ticked on.

Finally, Sooga broke his silence. “Hm,” he rumbled.

Warriors had never heard so much disappointment in a single syllable. Faster than he could track, Sooga's blades slithered from their sheathes. Warriors cried out as they sliced diagonally up and out across his upper legs. 

Immediately, his legs buckled, and his chest and shoulders screamed at the sudden shift in weight. He gritted his teeth so hard they creaked, fighting desperately to contain the shout that tried to fly free. Panting, he gingerly righted himself, his trousers beginning to stick to his legs as he bled.

Warriors glared and curled his lip at Sooga. “I don’t know what you plan here is, but it won’t work.”

Sooga sighed, pulling a thin, short-bladed dagger from his uniform. With casual ease, he buried it to the hilt in Warriors’ left deltoid; Warriors could do nothing but flinch and cry out as the Yiga Commander stood uncomfortably close. “I take no pleasure from treating a fellow soldier in this manner. Tell us where the hero is, and this can end.”

Memories from the Temple of Souls swirled before Warriors’ vision. His heart pounded in time to the surrounded, trapped, scared, cornered! pulsing harshly under his skin. Rationality and reason abandoned, he snarled wordlessly, fighting to create space between himself and his assailant.

Sooga stepped back and crossed his arms again, clear amusement in his body language. “Hmph! Fiery, as expected from the Hero's companion.” He chuckled darkly. “We’ll see how long it takes for that fire to burn down.”

Sooga’s bootsteps receded, and Warriors came back to himself. He collected his rage, his fear, his uncertainty, and shoved them down to the back of his mind, letting his pragmatism regain control.

Even if he wanted to tell the Yiga where Wild was, he had no idea. The Champion’s Hyrule was massive, he could’ve gone anywhere. 

But, he wouldn’t tell. Unsure as he currently felt about Wild, he knew for himself he would never betray a brother in arms. 

No matter what these Yiga threw at him, he would endure.

-----

Warriors waited for someone, anyone, to show up, to interrogate him more. He watched the beam of light wend its way across the walls, the only indication of time passing. He saw a few brief shadows throughout the day as guards made their rounds, but still, no one approached him directly. 

Any shift in balance brought screaming pain to his overextended shoulders and hips. His shoulder – blade still buried deep – pulsed in time to his heartbeat. The rough rope around his wrists and the dried blood on his face itched something fierce, their own special brand of torture he could do nothing to abate. 

The sunlight faded. The room chilled. Warriors shivered, miserably tense and exhausted from the constant strain on his body and mind. Had they forgotten him?

A puff of air and a billow of red smoke just in front of him swiftly dispelled that thought. The smoke caught in his dry throat and he coughed, ratcheting up the tension in his chest and neck.

A Yiga footsoldier pounced from the smoke cloud and yanked at the knife in Warriors' shoulder. Warriors cried out as it tore free, hot blood now freely dripping down his chest and back from the reopened wound. 

The footsoldier cackled victoriously, making a series of complicated hand signals and vanishing with another puff of acrid smoke.

Alone again, Warriors’ head hung low. His vision blurred from pain and exhaustion. Everything ached. Hunger gnawed at his stomach, even as thirst burned his throat.

He closed his eyes, hoping for the release of unconsciousness. What felt like mere moments later, the quiet scuffle of boots on stone roused him. Wearily, he opened his eyes, if for no other reason than to brace himself for whatever new torture the Yiga had come up with. 

No. Warriors was dreaming. He had to be. Why else would Wild suddenly be here, free, mobile, but not release him? Unless…he really has betrayed me.

Even in the dream, the thought soured his stomach.

Dream-Wild looked over the injuries Warriors had accumulated at the hands of the Yiga and made a face.

Warriors closed his eyes. If his worst nightmare had been realized, and his brother was working with the Yiga, he didn’t want to look at him anymore.

He gasped, flinching against the crossbar at his back as a soft, damp cloth wiped gently across the dried blood pulling at the left side of his face. The cloth left, he heard water dripping, then it returned.

He opened his eyes.

Dream-Wild chewed on his lip as he worked on Warriors' face. He studiously avoided eye contact, wetting the cloth one more time before speaking softly. “I’m sorry you got hurt for me.”

Warriors huffed.

Dream-Wild continued. “I…haven’t been able to find anyone else. I was hoping to have their support, their items. It’s going to take me some time to get the things I need to get you out of here by myself.” Finally, he made eye contact. “Will…will you be okay for one more day?”

Warriors coughed dryly, silently, wincing at the sandpaper scratch in his throat and the strain in his shoulders, and nodded.

The corners of Dream-Wild’s eyes crinkled in concern, and he held up a water skin. “I can’t offer much, but I can offer this. Drink,” he insisted.

Warriors gulped greedily at the dream water, savoring the pure sweetness, the perfect temperature, the soothing flow in his parched throat and empty stomach.

Too soon, the water pulled away. He wanted to plead for its return, but his voice had deserted him. 

Dream-Wild stowed the water skin in his pouch and pulled out his slate. A glowing blue rune, circular in shape and covered in writing Wars couldn’t read, appeared at his feet. “I have to go now. I timed this to the guards' rotation, and one should be coming any minute. I’ll be back tomorrow, I swear.”

Between one blink and the next, Warriors was alone again, blue threads of light fading into nothing. 

He had to believe. Even if this was just a dream, Wild would never work with the Yiga, wouldn’t betray him. 

He closed his eyes and let the dream fade to the blackness of pained exhaustion.

-----

Agony shredded the blackness to ribbons as something pierced his left side, just under his ribcage. Warriors gasped and tried to move away from the pain, only to have it flood like a tsunami throughout his entire body. He clenched his teeth against a startled cry so fast he bit his tongue.

Memory rushed back in as whatever woke him was cruelly plucked back out.

The inn. The kitchen. Wild. The Yiga. Bound, gagged, touched, mocked. 

The swords. The knife. The dream?

“Didn’t like that, did you?” Kohga's nasally voice arrowed into Wars' aching head. “Today, you will tell us where the hero is.”

Warriors panted, internally fighting back the awful cramps from a night spent in such a stressed position. The tightness in his chest made breathing difficult, and his limbs trembled from fatigue. He hung his head again, trying to recollect himself.

At his feet, a circle of runes pulsed gently, the blue light all but hidden in the morning haze.

It wasn’t a dream. Wild had been here, had given him water, had promised he’d return!

Warriors grinned, lifting his head so he was eye to mask with Kohga. Confidence returned, he chuckled softly. “You won’t get his location from me.”

Kohga stilled. Warriors watched tremors start all along his body as his ire rose. Finally, he exploded in a tantrum fit for a child. “OH YOOOOOUUUUU!!!” Wars could practically see steam jetting from behind his mask as he stomped around. “That’s it! Kaiga! Naiga!”

Twin smoke clouds puffed into existence behind Kohga. “Yes Master Kohga!” two footsoldiers exclaimed, kneeling reverently.

“Take care of him!” Kohga snarled, spinning around and stalking from the room.

“With pleasure, Master Kohga.”

Unease curdled with fear in Warriors' gut as the pair stalked closer. He gulped. Sooga, at least, held the demeanor of an honorable and fair soldier. These two shared none of the same qualities, seeming almost feral in comparison.

“Let’s get started,” the slimmer of the two said, her voice soft but sharp. “Tell us where the hero is.”

Warriors breathed as best he could through the strain, then made eye contact once more. “You’re wasting your time.” 

“Kaiga?”

The other Yiga grunted and cracked his knuckles. Warriors tried his best to brace himself, but the punch to his face still sent him reeling. His cheekbone and eye socket throbbed and warm blood began to thread down his cheek.

Naiga shifted her stance, tilted her head, then asked again, “Where is the hero?”

Warriors shook his head, both to clear the dizziness and as her answer. 

Naiga sighed, clearly disappointed. “Kaiga, again.”

This time, the blow came to his side, right over the puncture wound. The impact shuddered throughout his entire body, setting nerves and strained muscles alight. Warriors cut off his scream before it made it past his throat, but it was a close thing.

“Tell us where the hero is.”

Warriors closed his eyes and said nothing.

“Kaiga.”

Stars burst in Warriors’ vision as the fist crashed into his nose. Immediately, blood dripped from his nose, across his split lip and down his throat. Warriors gagged and spit, trying to clear his airway.

“Where is the hero?!”

I’ve trained for this, say nothing.

“Kaiga!” Thud, left eye.

“Give us the hero’s location!”

Stay strong.

“Kaiga!” Thud, right eye.

Warriors reeled, head and body aching from the repeated blows. He blinked blearily until the four Yiga became two once again. He licked blood from his lips. “You’re wasting your time,” he repeated.

Naiga's gloves creaked as she clenched her fists. Finally, she drew a short throwing knife, tossed it to her left hand, and came close enough Warriors could smell the banana permeating her skin.

She clutched his throat with her right hand. “Tell me,” she hissed, stabbing the knife into the tender skin below his ribcage, “Where. Is. The hero?”

Warriors gasped and choked, coughing, whining, desperate to escape the pain and the hand on his skin. Somehow, through the storm of memories and sensations, he managed to find his voice. “Never,” he rasped.

With a wet schlik Naiga withdrew and stowed the knife, swapping it for a sickle of some sort. Warriors screamed as she dragged the tip through the skin of his chest, from left shoulder to sternum.

"WHERE IS THE HERO??” she shouted over his cries.

Warriors could only whimper, spent.

With a frustrated growl, Naiga pulled away. “Kaiga, fetch blademasters Varga and Ragga. It’s time for some target practice.”

Kaiga vanished, Naiga paced somewhere near the entrance to the room, and Warriors shivered, allowing his eyes to flutter closed. Each tremor punctuated the pulse of his heart behind his wounds, pumping his lifeblood into the open.

The sun rose enough to send a shaft of light into the room, settling like a warm blanket across his shoulders. Warriors relaxed slightly under its touch.

Wild had promised he’d return today. Warriors just had to endure a bit longer.

Quiet footsteps brought Warriors' mind back to his predicament. He opened sore, grainy eyes to a small huddle of Yiga whispering in hushed tones across the room.

Naiga noticed his attention and sauntered across the room. “I wonder…” she began, running her finger down and inside the wound on his chest. Warriors shied away despite the pain in his shoulders, biting back a whimper. “How many blades of air would it take to reach your heart?”

She grabbed his face tight with her other hand, pulling him down until he stared at her, nose to mask. “Tell me where the hero is, and this will end,” she demanded.

Icy dread crept down Warriors’ body, banishing the warmth of the sun. Terror and fearful anticipation prickled his skin like a thousand needles. Whatever she meant, it couldn’t be good for his health.

Still. Wild was coming. He had to believe, to keep that hope close to his heart.

Warriors chased back the fear, pulling on his courageous and indomitable spirit for strength. His lips formed one word, breath following after like a prayer. “No.”

The upside down eye of Naiga's mask burned itself into his retinas as she looked up at him. Finally, she shrugged, backing away. “Suit yourself.”

She took five paces away – Warriors heaved a sigh of relief at the relative freedom – and sketched a line in the sand with her boot. She stepped clear, then gestured to the two hulking blademasters. “You may begin,” she stated.

One of the blademasters eagerly toed the line, drawing his weapon. The sunlight played along its blade, accentuating the wavy ripples and holes in its design.

Frankly, it looked absurd and impractical.

The blademaster took a ready stance, then slashed diagonally at the air in front of him.

Warriors cried out in surprise as a sharp wind connected with his chest, matching exactly the angle of his existing wound. It stung, like a sharp slap.

Before he could recover, the blademaster sent another blast, hitting the same spot once more.

Warriors suddenly connected the dots, and the dread surged higher. Naiga had said it was time for target practice. He was the target.

By the tenth stroke, Warriors could no longer hold back his cries. Each blade of air drove a bit deeper, widening and deepening the wound. The backwind tousled his hair, driving it into his face and eyes.

By twenty, he screamed with each blow.

Still, the blademasters continued. Whenever one got bored, whether of the game or of Warriors' screams, he’d leave and another would take his place. Soon, Warriors had a small audience of blademasters lined up to take a swipe at him. Warriors saw rupees changing hands through the blustering winds and felt sick.

They weren’t even asking him any more questions. Just taking their shot – chuckling if they hit the same spot and angle, groaning if they were off – and moving aside for the next one. 

Hours passed at a chuchu's pace, the wound in Warriors' chest now a vast, bloody chasm. He held on valiantly, but shock and blood loss were well on their way to claiming his consciousness when something changed. 

Warriors glared daggers at the blademaster gleefully lining up his next slice. In his peripheral vision, the rune beneath his feet glowed a bit brighter.

Time seemed to slow to a standstill, and when it snapped back into place a short Yiga footsoldier with a distinctively blond topknot stood in the center of the rune. Hope bloomed in Warriors' chest, warm and bright, beating back some of his pain and exhaustion.

“Pardon the intrusion,” he said over his shoulder to the impatient blademasters, taking two light-footed hops backward, “but I believe it is my turn now.”

The footsoldier drew his own windcleaver, and the hope abruptly died. Lightning-fast, twin blades of air shot toward Warriors; his breath stilled in his chest as they connected, not with his chest, but with the ropes binding his wrists.

Wild?

[paingoes]

Destroyer -- Living Weapon CYOA

Be more specific about rules and consequences.

Most of what was formally written isn’t helpful for the day-to-day. You guess its owners don’t care that much? You decide to elaborate on the rules, since they seem to have been left to your discretion anyway. 

“Okay. Ground rules.”

Your voice falters a bit, and you worry about giving it any ideas even as you say it. 

“No fighting. Ever. You’re not going to resist orders or try and struggle. If you hurt any of the personnel here, you are getting hurt back.”

You wonder if it knows how valuable it is, and that it can only be hurt so much. You imagine the threats are most effective if it doesn’t. So it probably doesn’t.

“Don’t try to leave from wherever you’ve been placed. If you move without permission, we’re just going to use more restraints, so you’re only making it worse for yourself. If you behave, I’ll consider lowering the level of restraint.”

Might need to get permission for that. It came with the chains, but the rules don’t say anything about keeping them on.

“…And you’re not to speak to any of the personnel. If you need to say something, you say it to me. Okay?”

“Yes, sir.” It hasn’t moved from its position, or looked up from the floor. Which makes you wonder if it was even listening.

“Repeat them back to me,” you order.

It does so near verbatim.

You can’t stay in this cell forever. And it seems a bit agitated by your presence. You decide to come back later, after you’ve had more time to think. 

tags:

@dragongodryss @whumpsday @elle297382 @inhurtandincomfort @catnykit @thewhumpcaretaker @moony-reblogg-stuffs @sorrowful-hyacinth @melpomenelamusa @floral-comet-whump @half-duck @doumidas-whumps @sir-fenris

[kumkaniudaku]

I wonder if Patrice sees Terry playing with Nyla and later pulls him away just to kiss him and tell him he’s a good dad lol

These are always so fun and keep me creative in between snapshots 😂

“Ma’am, that’s not on sale. Your coupon is out of date.”

Patrice tried her best to stifle laughter as she stood over the stove, monitoring the evening’s dinner and scrolling through emails.

The loud ‘beep’ of a toy cash register rang out again, chiming in with Nyla’s half-gibberish, half-English ramblings directed at the cashier comically dwarfing the toy as he sat on the ground behind it with a tiny apron draped around his neck.

Terry sighed, fully leaning into the bit. “So, do you want it or not? There are people in line behind you and my supervisor said my break starts soon.”

“No!”

“Girl, you are not my manager. She,” Terry paused to point toward the kitchen to draw Nyla’s attention to Patrice. “She’s my manager. And she said I get a break in five minutes. You gotta hurry up.”

Nyla started up again, this time directing her unintelligible question to her mother who leaned across the counter to get a better look. “Miss Lady, it’s against the law for me to work him all night. He has to get a break, but I can take over and get you out of the door in no time.”

The compromise didn’t satisfy a toddler fully aware of her place in the world but lacking the words to express the sentiment.

Nyla waved Patrice away with a curt “bye, bye”, emptied her shopping cart on the ground, and toddled away to find another set of toys for her daddy to clean up once closing shift began.

Terry and Patrice sat stunned until their tiny oppressor was out of the room then dissolved into a fit of giggles at the absurdity of disappointing a person who couldn’t yet spell.

“That’s your baby,” Terry laughed as he slowly lifted himself off the ground to follow Nyla into her bedroom. “You did that at the grocery store last weekend.”

Patrice rolled her eyes. “Why can’t a woman have customer service standards?”

Terry playfully rolled his eyes at his wife’s deflection before starting his journey toward the hallway.

“Let me go make sure she isn’t dumping lotion everywhere like last time. Shit was a bitch to get out of the rug.”

“Okay. I’ll have the food out by the time you get back.” As Terry passed the kitchen’s threshold, Patrice softened her gaze and called out for his attention. “Come here for a second, baby.”

Never one to ignore an order for the commander, Terry made his pitstop without complaint and easily slipped into Patrice’s outstretched arms. Sweet kisses graced both his cheeks and his nose before hovering over his lips to speak.

Patrice added a little extra to their embrace and smiled. “You’re a great daddy to our little monster. Thank you for being so present.”

“That’s my job and I love it.” Dipping his head, Terry gently pressed his lips against Patrice’s and hummed. “I love you.”

“Not more than I love you.” Before Terry could voice his disagreement, the sound of Nyla’s karaoke machine turning on preceded a muffled voice booming over the speakers. Patrice sighed. “DJ MiMi on the ones and twos tonight.”

Terry shook his head and frowned. “Now I gotta go shut the club down. What time is my break again?”

“If you can get Sister Nancy off the mic and in bed by 8, we got all night. Plus, I need to show you what we’re giving the employee of the month this time around.” A mischievous grin sent a tingle down Terry’s spine as Patrice gestured toward Terry’s chair with her head. “Need me to elaborate?”

“No ma’am. Give me one second.” Separating, Terry nearly jogged to the hallway to wrangle his unruly house guest. “Ny! Mommy said it’s bedtime!”

[fandomfanservice]

The “Hai” heard around the world and beyond 😳☺️ you did call it fandom, Sorn went feral.

My Stubborn Fandon, it wasn’t love or lust at first viewing. The plot holes were plotholing but unified by our collective need to see Sorn suffer and Jun be happy (conflicting needs we know), we have made it to the end of the series. 😅

Did some things work better in the book absolutely (thanks Wattpad), did the subtitles need work, lord did they ever.

But every Sunday for 3 months ( yes that’s 12 weeks) this fandom showed up with pitchforks and elaborate plans to save Jun. This very random, unholy chapel filled with underaged coffee baristas, more HR violations than the Wolf of Wall Street, the affairs that mattered but mostly those that didn’t. Side characters that seemed to pop up and go without explanation, yes I am including the plushies.

Despite this and Sorn’s depression aka break up behind we perceived.

Did this fan mental tell her self to drop this one every week! Yep, did the fan still come back and complain about it (yes, refer back to the pitchforks) inspire all of the above (no really teeth in it) I would delighted to see the 2 leads together in something else in the future. I will actually miss this guilty pleasure watch 😉.

For a change using my words not just gifs

Credit to the gif creators and owners

[otnesse]

I agree out of the box strategies can work if pulled off well, but in AG's case, it ends up making the Gym Leaders look bad, which in a roundabout way makes ASH look bad as well. The same is true in reverse (which is my main complaint about DP. I probably wouldn't mind the Gym Leaders actually CHALLENGING Ash the way they did if it didn't come right at the heels of Pikachu's single-handed victory against Brandon's Regice, which aside from it being a Legendary Pokemon, meaning their strength is such that any Pokemon beating it at ALL is impressive in and of itself was owned by the leader of the Battle Frontier, with Scott specifically indicating that the various members were Elite 4 level bare minimum (oh, and having Pikachu being reduced to a chew toy in the process, most infamously during the Lake Acuity match). What's worse is that it's explicit canon that Elite 4-Level trainers are supposed to be a LOT stronger than Gym Leaders, which makes Ash's even going THROUGH the BF at all pointless when he is losing to characters he should fully be able to beat. At least with Orange islands and Johto, they had a differing method to proving themselves that didn't necessarily entail battling [or at least, none of the traditional battles. While the last leader besides Drake DID have a battle, it was a two on two battle which at the time was NOT a feature used in the games], Ash's win against Drake's Dragonite was closer to an up and out Raid battle with Squirtle, Bulbasaur, Charizard, and Tauros landing clean hits on it [and also Team Rocket, albeit unintentionally, aiding Ash during that time], with Pikachu merely landing the finishing blow [similar to the first fight against Cerberus in Kingdom Hearts where Hercules already softened up Cerberus by the time Sora fought it], and the Orange League leaders were NEVER indicated to be anywhere near Elite 4 level, unlike the Frontier Brains.). And I want to be clear in case my wording was ambiguous, when I say "lost to rookies," I specifically mean the Gym Leaders lost to rookies on the first try.

I guess to elaborate on what I'm getting at regarding Gym Leaders seemingly lacking competency in AG due to losing to Ash's purely rookie team exempting Pikachu, whose experience is a problem in itself due to forced resets (Roxanne and Brawley notwithstanding), in Episode 3, Ash Catches a Pokemon, Ash late into the episode was forced into an illegal match against Team Rocket and he's down to Caterpie (who, for reasons completely unrelated to Team Rocket, was near-dead, and even ignoring that bit, was a blatant rookie and explicitly weak enough that Ash captured him without even needing to battle him beforehand). Team Rocket had EVERY advantage in the book, including being significantly more experienced than Caterpie (Ekans and Koffing alone have at least one year's worth of experience over him, and that's not even counting Meowth), and likely type advantages. You'd think with those odds that Team Rocket would easily win, right? WRONG! They got the exact OPPOSITE result, Caterpie (who BTW hadn't even fully healed yet from his earlier fight with Pidgeotto that, had it not been for Ash's well-timed Recall would have become Pidgeotto's mid-morning snack, an action that Misty called Ash out on afterward) outright CREAMED them without much effort. This alongside similar losses later on resulted in a running gag both in and out of universe that indicated beating Team Rocket wasn't even WORTH bragging about, being THAT weak. Case in point, from The Ultimate Test:

Even THINKING how the Hoenn mons basically creamed the Gym Leaders without ANY aid from Ash's veterans (exempting Pikachu, and even he is its own problem regarding a consistent LACK of retention of his experience since AG's start, made more noticingly apparent with BW especially, and even DP) just makes me think back to that battle and the resulting reputation Team Rocket got as a result, and gives the distinct impression that most of Hoenn's Gym Leaders were horrible (a genuinely terrible thing to think, BTW. Makes them look even worse than the Indigo Gym Leaders, and they're the ones mocked for "pity badges"). The fact that this happened AFTER Misty's forced removal didn't help matters either, nor for that matter did Ash's extremely POINTLESS for at the Evergrande Conference help in any way (and yes, it was indeed VERY pointless, with only Unova actually rivaling it in terms of sheer pointlessness. If you're going to make us watch Ash humiliate the Gym Leaders as if they were the likes of Team Rocket, with the only real exceptions being Roxanne due to losing to Pikachu, an established veteran, and Brawley, the only Gym Leader Ash was actually required to rematch due to being soundly beaten beforehand [note that I'm not counting Norman since that was more an attempt at forcing Ash to the route of the games since, unlike in prior games, despite Norman technically being the first gym leader you face, he specifically bars you from fighting him until you have four badges in order to avoid anything resembling nepotism since he's the player character's father, and since Ash obviously isn't related to Norman at all in the anime, they had to come up with something different to have him go the route of the games since they were starting to align themselves more closely to them than before], the very LEAST they could have done was get him to Top 4, rather than having him finish off at the EXACT same place, Top 8, as in Johto [and with an arguably even WORSE turnout due to Tyson not even being slowed down by Pikachu despite nearly losing to him, in stark contrast to Harrison who DESPITE winning against Ash's Charizard via his Blaziken, Ash's Charizard nevertheless inflicted severe enough injuries on the latter that he ultimately cost Harrison his next match.].). In fact, if it weren't for the Battle Frontier, we could easily dismiss AG as skippable filler thanks to that idiocy.

Serena is the more mature character development on XY e Snowbelle arc I can prove it

I'm putting myself at high risk now but I'm tired of people just taking the phrase alone

EVERYONE WANTED ASH TO COME BACK FROM HIS PLACE, NOT JUST SERENA, EVERYONE WAS WORRIED ABOUT HIM AND SERENA WAS THE ONE WHO TOOK THE MOST INITIATIVE IN TRYING TO HELP

He threw her losses and her emotions in the trash, that's why she exploded. She always holds her head high after a loss and is even more emotionally mature than Ash himself here.

She was on a path of indecision, loss of maturity and confrontation and even at the RISK of not finishing her presentation she gave it her all without measuring the consequences of this. SHE DIDN'T GIVE UP EVEN IN THE WORST OF CONSEQUENCES

She taught her Pokemon that winning isn't everything and having fun is the main thing and that you should always be happy with the performance you at least achieved.

She accepted, raised her head and went all out with each new decline she got up and placed herself on top.

Yes let's talk about "this isn't the Ash I know" so much ok she needed to know about Ash's more vulnerable side

BUT DID HE HAVE TO SAY THAT????

He is bad for three losses, ok, it is understandable up to there, mother mistreating her journey of knowledge WILL NEVER BE

SHE is the one to be forgiven, she is the one to blame herself for what she said, she is the one the show puts as the fault I hate this deeply and people DON'T GET THIS

She took his phrase until the last minute and I will say that this phrase should have been her catchphrase and not said by Ash. (Honestly, I even like the fact that this is a part of their relationship, but part of me wanted it to be just hers)

2

[apocaloidae]

[notfernintheslighest]

the holy trinity of homophobic gay men

[bcbryar]

Only took a couple of beers to get Grian out of that fuckass jacket.

[vbrosclips]

s5e4 - Spanakopita

[hermitsdump]

does impulsive tattoo shock migraine out or do I need to waterboard myself first

[lifeofaninstigator]

Ed grinned. "It's changed somewhat. I like other things too, but I really love things that breath fire." He had a nice collection of them building over the years from his travels. Someday he'd have a place of his own to put them in instead of storage. "This is for my own personal collection." He didn't elaborate on that. Ed could tell by the expression on Roy's face that he didn't like the dragon statue as much as he did. It didn't surprise Ed one bit. Roy was a fancier type of person than he was. Always dressing nice and looking dapper.

Roy wore that look well, and Ed was sure it suited his position and goals. Presentation mattered when one was trying to climb the ranks of the military. He was glad he didn't have to worry about that sort of thing. He'd much rather go with his gut and be himself, though there were parts of himself he didn't often share with others. He wondered what Roy would think of the person he had become if Roy knew him fully. Ed couldn't quite explain why Roy's opinion mattered as much as it did to him, but it did.

His eyes followed what Roy was looking at. "Those look nice." Ed liked learning about what Roy enjoyed in art. It was like piecing together a puzzle, and he was eager to learn more. "So you like abstract art. I bet that would like great in your living room. Nice way to start a conversation if you have company." He waited until Roy purchased the item and for the lady to wrap it up. Once they were set with their own packages he followed Roy out of the booth and back onto the walkway. He enjoyed listening to the sound of people having fun around them. He wondered if Roy would be interested in riding some rides later on.

"Darts sounds like fun. It's been a while since I've played them. Not since the last time I've visited Amestris." One thing he had learned visiting different countries is that each had its own set of fun and different kinds of games to play. Not too many other countries had the game of darts. "Maybe one of us can beat the odds and win something good. Besides, darts is pretty straight forward. It's hard to see how a game like that can be rigged."

As they walked, Ed perked up a bit at Roy's question. "Nah, I have a storage unit in Resembool. I'll tuck it away there for now. Someday when I come back for good, I plan to get a house with a nice study in it and put my collection there." He wanted to make a spot for himself in his own home that was entirely his own, away from other people. Something to call his own without judgement. His eyes caught a booth that had darts in it. "Let's try this one," he said, walking over to the booth. "You wanna give it a go this time?"

Roy watched quietly as Ed approached the crying girl, wondering what he had in mind. When he knelt down beside her to offer the bear, however, a soft smile tugged at the corner of Roy's lips. He hadn't pegged Ed as the type to be good with kids, but it was surprisingly heartwarming. Some part of him could imagine telling Hughes about it just to see his best friend smiling over the picture it painted.

Though he didn't say anything about it as they walked on, he tucked it away in the back of his mind. There was just something about seeing a gentler side of Ed that he didn't want to forget. He just watched Ed admiring the statues, Roy's dark eyes scanning over the selection as well, but occasionally drifting back toward the other man. Though he stayed by Ed's side as they wandered through, he took note some of the more abstract pieces with swirling limbs and branches, a myriad of color among more traditional stonework.

But Ed had his full attention again when he asked him about the dragon. From even a passing glance, its gaudy colors and fierce pose just screamed "Ed." Roy held back a sigh, but he did raise an eyebrow at the description of it being nice. It was well sculpted, but "nice" certainly wasn't the world he would have chosen for it. "I see your taste hasn't changed at all over the years." He shook his head slowly. He honestly wasn't surprised that this was what caught Ed's eye.

He glanced back toward the abstract statues, gesturing for Ed to follow him for a better look. "That's not bad," he mused, pointing to a dark brown mass of swirls centering around a green stem. He considered for a moment then turned to the one beside it, what looked vaguely like a glassy waterfall seeming to come from nowhere but with a few sharper edges. "Something like that would look good in the living room." Most of his decor was various shades of blue and grey, so the color scheme would fit in easily. "Alright, I'll buy that one." He called over the woman at the booth to pay for the latter one and accepted it carefully.

Turning back to Ed, he adjusted the package in his arms and nodded toward the main path. "I think I saw a darts game a little further on if you want to give that a try with me. Maybe at least one of us will be able to win a meal ticket there. Unlikely," he admitted, "but it could be fun to try." As they started walking, he glanced down at the bundle in Ed's arms. "So is that going to be your travel companion for a while?" He doubted Ed would actually take the statue wherever he went, but it was a bit amusing to think of him taking it everywhere with him.

[quibbs126]

A random lore thing I made up for TF One, solely based on that “we’ve got torture labyrinth tomorrow” thing for whatever reason

So basically, there’s this type of Energon that forms that’s basically like, super Energon, where a single cube of that would equate to like, 100 normal cubes. So it’s incredibly valuable and used to better help power Cybertron throughout the Energon drought during Sentinel’s reign (I mean he might be just giving it to the Quintessons, but like, that’s as far as people know)

But also, it’s very rare and only grows incredibly deep within Cybertron, with tunnels that could reach deep enough to where it grows only appearing for brief windows every half cycle. They’re only open for like, 1-2 hours, and while in every period they reopen for that same window a few days later, once that period ends, they don’t reopen again for another half a cycle

Not only that, but those deep tunnels are where the Dwellers reside. And while the occasional Dweller appears in the normal mines, they’re almost always just babies exploring outside the bounds of their homes, and basically harmless unless directly attacked. But down there, that’s the Dweller colonies, full of adult ones who are far more dangerous and aggressive when bots come into their territory

But the Energon down there is incredibly valuable, and even a couple hundred cubes would be an incredible amount of energy, so Sentinel has miners sent down there regardless

Every half cycle or so, whenever the tunnels open, a lot of miners are deployed to go down into the deep tunnels to retrieve the rare Energon. And it’d be impossible for them to go in, retrieve it and come out within the brief windows the tunnels open, so instead they’re meant to stay in the tunnels and keep digging until the tunnels open back up again, at which point they try to evacuate as fast as they can to reach that window

Unfortunately, plenty of miners end up either dying from the Dwellers or dangerous tunnels, or they weren’t fast enough to escape the tunnels before they closed, at which point they’re most likely going to die before the next reopening. Someone’s probably actually survived the waiting period and been rescued, but I don’t know who would fit

I’m also unsure now if it should be that the majority of miners are sent into the deep tunnels during these periods, or if it should only be certain groups, and like they get some sort of reward for doing it. The miners probably don’t have much choice in being assigned to it regardless, but I don’t know what would make more sense for Sentinel to do

To try and mitigate the high risk, the deployed miners are probably required to work in at the very least, teams of two, if not more, to help one another in case of danger and try to lower the risk of death, or loss of the rare crystals

Then once the movie happens and Energon flows freely once again, there becomes little need to go through these tunnels with the new abundance of Energon, which the former miners probably celebrate; the only people that might go down there now are researchers looking for those rare Energon crystals to study, or idiot thrill seekers

So basically, no more torture labyrinth for the miners

[salt-and-vynegar]

I finished playing Ch. 11 (Part 1). I took some screenshots for some things that happen in the chapter, just because I have a feeling that I may want to use these in the future. Most of these are pretty self-explanatory and out of context (for the most part).

Just in case of spoilers, I will put the ones that are more mystery and storyline related underneath the cut.

And then just a reminder: For the CN version of this chapter, Vyn's voice uses AI. It's listed in the Ch. 11 trailer for the main story on Bilibili.

[hyperionshipping]

Think the twins don't even care about Tricks because bandits dying is not all that concerning and I think people assumed "that little dog of Jack's" died with him.

I think Tricks only becomes a hassle sometime later on. But no one can seem to find him... Lilith keeps dealing with vandalization and her already small crew getting picked off ("It's like a professional is hitting us. I... I think I know who it is") and, I think, just because he can he fucks with streams/the towers. He's got so much hate in his body.

Oh, and Jack's shield. Now you see him, now you don't, and now a corrosive bullets lodged in the worst spot it could be. Killing you agonizingly slow! If he doesn't shoot again and... oh. He did already

[one-blaze-of--glory]

fun fact, so big/so small is actually the only song in dear evan hansen yeah sorry no other song in it exists it's just that one