#2. his counterpart is so obvious my goodness

[rottmnt-brainrot-hours]

Way back, I drew Donnie cosplaying as Entrapta, so here's the sequel:

Raph dressed like Scorpia

[ozzgin]

Its been 6 months😭😭 pleaasseeee make a part 2 of the android x human story im beggingggg😭

-H❤️

Yandere! Android x Reader (II)

Featuring your assigned android partner who is not as devoid of humanity as you originally thought.

Content: female reader, AI yandere, mildly NSFW, based on Caves of Steel

[Part 1] | [More original works]

The case had been solved.

Not only that, but you'd managed to prove that human officers were just as efficient as their robot counterparts. The Commissioner was beyond ecstatic, pacing back and forth in his office and finding new ways to praise your detective skills.

"That'll show those Spacers. They think some glorified tin box can match our skill?"

You frowned at his words and glanced to your side, where the android was sitting. He observed the Commissioner with the same polite smile, no hint of disagreement on his features. Was he not insulted? You questioned him once the formal meeting had finished.

"I have no reason to be offended, (Y/N). It is a personal opinion, and thus I have no control over it."

"So you don't mind people disliking robots to such an extent?"

He pondered your statement.

"I would certainly be upset if it was you who harbored the disdain. The beliefs of other humans hold no meaning to me otherwise."

You couldn't tell if he said it out of politeness, or if he actually meant it. Most likely the former, in order to part on good terms. After all, your partnership has reached its completion. He'd return to the Spacer Colony with his report on human customs, and you'd go back to your regular job.

Except he never left. Days later, he was still sipping on his morning coffee, lounging at your table. You fiddled with your cup in contemplation. Was there anything else left to do?

"When are you leaving, actually?"

The pale man raised his eyebrows in mild surprise.

"Is my presence here of such significant disturbance?"

"What? No!" you swiftly exclaimed, stumbling on your words. His lips widened in yet another cheeky grin. He was teasing you again.

"My assignment on Earth is done, thus I should have returned to the Colony already. That's what you're wondering about, yes? I am awaiting a response from my superiors."

"Whether you can go back?"

"No, whether my transfer has been accepted. I have applied to be your permanent partner."

You could feel your cheeks burning with heat. Was it that obvious to the synthetic that you enjoyed his company? Then again, he wouldn't have gone through such motions just for your sake.

"Why did you..." you probed sheepishly. There was no logical reason for him to keep working in a poorer, less advanced environment.

"Because I want to continue spending time with you."

Nonsense. An artificial being wouldn't make its decision based on such mundane, emotional reasons.

"I don't believe you."

"I understand. It is a faulty answer to come out of a machine. Though unlike common AI assistants, we have been invested with the capacity to develop likes and dislikes. Interests. Wants. It helps with variety and individualization."

"And you want to stay here? If I didn't know you any better, I'd say you have a crush on me or something", you attempted to joke.

A few moments of uncomfortable silence. Had you gone too far with your humor? Was it too cliché of a sentence? You turned away, tucking some strands of hair behind your ear. You just had to be witty, huh?

"I'm afraid I do not know what to tell you, (Y/N)."

"You don't need to say anything, it was a poor choice of-"

"Many social aspects have been implemented into my behavioral network. Workplace rapport, friendships, intimate relationships. What seems to be lacking is the transition from one to another. I know how to act as a romantic partner, but how does one achieve such a title in the first place?"

You gazed at him, incredulous. What was he trying to say?

"I am trying to convey that I am indeed infatuated with you. Which, then, makes my initial explanation dishonest: while I do appreciate our fruitful work cooperation, it is not a main reason for my decision. I hope this clears up any misunderstandings."

You'd never been a romantic. You sometimes flipped through sample pages of contemporary romance books at stores and community centers, but they always felt forcefully cheesy. Predictable. Consequently, you never had any grand dreams of passionate confessions under the rain.

On the other hand, you also didn't expect to be asked out in such a mechanical, calculated manner. Or that a machine would be the suitor. Yet there was something charming about his approach. For the first time since meeting him at the border, you saw him struggle. There was something human-like in his uncertainty.

You stood up from the table, and walked towards the android. Then, you placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, expressing the mutual feeling and understanding.

His eyes bore an eerie glint to them. It was most kind of you to offer a common ground, but he knew better. The affections you held for him were, with utmost certainty, a mere fraction of whatever overwhelmed him from the moment he encountered you. Limerence, obsession, compulsion, there were many definitions that aptly described his otherwise unexplainable desires towards you. Even more unexplainable was the fact they'd evolved from a blank slate, a programmed agent with no previous knowledge on feelings or humans.

You noticed his hesitation.

"Is there anything else troubling you presently?" you nudged.

Nothing of immediate urgency. Well, not for you, at least. The android remained thoughtful. What were the variables which needed to be met in order to initiate a sexual encounter? Would it have been inappropriate for him to suggest intercourse straight after this conversation? To him, it was a natural escalation he'd considered many times in the past. To you, it could've come as a sudden, crass, and hurried proposal.

He reached for your wrist and discreetly pressed a thumb against your skin. Judging from your resting heart rate, facial expression, and localized temperature, there was a fair chance you wouldn't reject his advances. Once the statistical risk had been assessed, he pulled you in for a kiss.

"Would it be possible to continue this in your bedroom?" he inquired, standing up.

"Alright, just don't...ask for approval for every single step" you retorted. You'd rather not become a narrator of your own pounding.

You open your eyes with a squint, greeted by unexpected natural light flooding your bedroom. Someone must’ve lifted the hologram blinds.

“My apologies, I hadn’t considered the discomfort it would cause you. My Spacer colony uses artificial lightning, though I am becoming rather fond of the natural sun rays here.”

Your android partner is meticulously preparing his outfit for the day. Judging by the stark nakedness and the glistening skin, you suppose he’s had a shower while you were still sleeping. You involuntarily furrow your brows and blush at the sight. He notices your embarrassment. 

“A most surprising reaction. You have seen the very same genital organ…”, he says as he quickly checks his wristwatch, “...precisely eight hours and forty-five minutes ago.”

“It’s just…most people get dressed once they start doing other things. I also wear a towel for coverage when I come out of the shower.”

He processes your words.

“Hmmm. Illogical, but it explains your reaction.”

You stand up and stretch with a prolonged yawn. Suddenly, a revelation hits you: your mind flashes with images of the android fondling your body, your ears ring with the shameless moans you’ve let out throughout the night. Your face turns pale.

“Listen, when is your next functional inspection?” you ask, without waiting for the synthetic to answer. “Will they, uh…will they have access to all of your memories?”

You know that the android permanently records all data and saves it into a memory unit. It’s a pointless fear, of course. The Spacers couldn’t care less about irrelevant details. If the intended tasks are fulfilled, what happens on the side is out of their concern. Yet you don’t exactly appreciate the possibility of your personal deeds airing like this, before the eyes of multiple engineers. 

“You may rest assured, whatever involves your privacy will not be included in the examination.”

“Do you get to decide what is checked and what isn’t?”

“No, most data is sampled randomly.”

You stare at him, confused.

“Then how-”

“It is not common practice, nor encouraged by our code of ethics. I can, however, choose which information is available to begin with.”

“What? I thought you’re fully controlled by whoever created you. If they so desired, couldn’t they open you up and take whatever they require?”

The robot smiles at your assumption and takes a few steps towards you.

“Once an android model is finished, one can no longer modify the processor. Not without compromising everything else with it. It is not a device to be deconstructed, (Y/N).” He taps his temple, then continues: “I am a biocomputer. While most of my parts are mechanical, my processor is a cortical organoid developed in a laboratory. A human brain, if you will.”

Somehow, the discovery fills you with dread. A living organ, encapsulated within a machine. What does that say about consciousness? About self-awareness? The Spacers didn't just tinker with metal scraps and smart computers. They artificially birthed life.

You were always under the impression that your robot companion is closer to the computer you have on your desk. Billions of lines of code within a black box, which then lead to spontaneous, novel interactions with the outside world. To think that at the very core of his functions lies a clump of living cells...

Perhaps you weren't so different, after all. The line between machines and humans is suddenly blurred.

[axeoverblade]

Morales Twin Au x fem! reader

Morales twins x fem! reader

Synopsis! It was fairly obvious you had crush on your long term best friend, Miles Morales. It was also obvious that his twin brother Milo, was a pain in your ass.

PT 1 > PT 2 (current)

MASTERLIST

Genre: Fluff, slight angst if you squint, slight suggestion if you squint

Warnings: strong language I think that’s it

Word count: 3.3k

Authors comments: if you were in the taglist but not @ it’s because someone deleted it! sorry for my long break guys but I’m back, Been a lil stressed but hopefully this makes up for it <3

MORE ABOUT MORALES TWIN AU IN NAVIGATION

E! 1610 Miles > Miles

E! 42 Miles > Milo

Do not copy! All rights reserved to ©axeoverblade

Miles was irritated to say the least.

Everytime you would come over to see him, somehow his counterpart always got involved. It had gotten to the point that when you left, he would find himself angry with Milo.

Sure he knew it wasn’t Milo’s fault he was mad. Truthfully there wasn’t anything wrong with you interacting with Milo.

But this wasn’t how you two normally interacted.

Miles saw the way Milo’s eyes lingered when you would walk away, a little too long for his liking. Or how you would just somehow always find yourself play-fighting with Milo. And not the usual MMA brawls you two used to have-, no. Just somehow, it would always end with Milo holding you waist and you two laughing, screaming at him to let go of you.

Miles didn’t know why this made him so annoyed. I mean, he knew it was different to see you and Milo being kind to each other, but it shouldn’t have made him mad.

For the longest, Miles knew he was the only twin you enjoyed being around.

He knew how much you hated Milo. You would talk about how much you wanted to stick Milo’s hand in a dish disposal.

But now? You looked at his hands carefully to see the designs of his rings, sometimes even trying them on.

He should be happy if anything, all he’s ever wanted was for you three to be able to hang out peacefully.

But this was too damn peaceful.

Every weekend you found yourself at the Morales home, this weekend being no different.

And just like usual, you were arguing with Milo. “You talk too much” he mumbled as he rolled his eyes, grabbing a cup from the cabinet. You glared at him as you leaned on the counter next to him, scowling. “Boy you know good and well I will not hesitate to pop you in your throat.” You scoffed, taking a sip from your water.

He chuckled, “stay mad I beat you. Not my fault you trash.” He shrugged as he filled his cup with juice, looking at you amused as he put the lid back on.

“You won barely.” You held your thumb and pointer finger up together in close proximity to further your point. “And you got in my way, I would’ve won if you didn’t wave yo’ hand in my face.” You smacked your lips, looking away from him with an eye roll.

“All I’m hearin’ is excuses ma. Just admit I’m better than you will ever be.”

“Shut yo daddy long leg ass up”, you rolled your eyes looking at his figure up and down. The gray sweats and black wife beater combo he was wearing clearly showed how lanky (yet oddly muscular) he was. He smirked at you, “you just wanted n’ excuse to call me daddy”.

A small ‘tuh’ left your lips, “if I wanted to call you daddy I would’ve said so”. He turned to fully face you, walking slightly closer so he was right in front of you.

He grabbed your chin, forcing eye contact with you as he licked his lips. “We both know you want to”.

You stared at him wide eyed, ignoring the feeling of heat slightly raising to your cheeks.

Milo burst out cackling, almost spilling his juice on you. “Your face! You look like a lemur.” He held his stomach, closing his eyes, thinking what he said was so funny.

Furrowing your eyebrows at his odd (and somewhat disturbing) comparison, you rolled your eyes and walked past him. “You doin too much. And hurry up Miles is waiting for us-, annoyin’ ass”

“Wait for me King Julian!”

“Milo swear I won’t kill you”

Another weekend at the Miles Morales home.

This time Rio was cooking dinner. She had assigned you and Milo to go to the small store on the corner and fetch some more cilantro and lime.

Usually, Miles and you would be the ones assigned store duties, but Rio decided today was the day she would teach Miles to not burn the house down with his cooking.

…

“Ew look at that rat” you pointed disgusted, seeing the large half bald rat scurrying around quickly a few feet away. Milo turned his head away from the creature “why would you point that out.” He scowled, walking a little quicker. “Aye don’t leave me with that!” You caught up to him, turning back a few times to make sure it wasn’t getting any closer.

The trip to the store was quick. It didn’t take longer than a few minutes, plus you had picked out a few snacks for the twins and you to share.

As you were walking home with Milo, you saw a small cardboard box with the word free written across it.

With a quick glance at Milo, you realized he hadn’t noticed. Before he even saw that you were walking away from him, you were already crouching in front of the box.

Milo halted realizing you weren’t next to him anymore. Mildly concerned, he looked around quickly.

He spotted you a few feet back with your hand in a random box.

Quickly walking over to you, the furrow in his eyebrows never left. “Y/n ‘the hell you doin?”

When he got closer, he saw the black kitten in the box. He also noticed how the kitten had taken a liking to you.

“No.”

You turned to him offended, “Milo, we can’t just leave it here.”

“That’s exactly what we’re going to do. Now get up and cmon’” he lightly tugged your free hand. “Milo what if it dies out here?” He sighed, “The next person will get it. Ain’t our concern.”

You frowned, looking into his eyes. “Milo I can’t leave it. It has no one.”

“Ma, neither one of our homes has room or the time for a kitten. They pee everywhere and they stink. Plus they mean as hell. No.”

…

The wide smile on your face could’ve been spotted from a mile away. It didn’t take much after to convince Milo to take the cat with you two; it now in your coat pocket as you walked home.

He was annoyed at first, but after you forced him to interact with the kitten, he was quick to mumble out “maybe we can sneak 'em around”.

Milo wasn’t going to tell you the real reason the cat could tag along was because he simply couldn’t refuse with the way you were looking at him. Your face painted with big doe eyes and a slight pout made it almost impossible for him to ever say no.

And the wide happy smile that followed after he said yes?

Folded him like a damn chair.

…

You figured out she was a girl, and both decided on the name ‘Mila’.

Though Milo would never admit it, he loved the name. He loved even more the reasoning behind it.

“What should we name her?” You said, staring at her as you held her like simba in the opening scene of lion king.

“Ion know, it’s your cat.” He shrugged, lightly pulling you and kept walking so you could get back to the house.

“It’s our cat, we found her together. We’re her parents now.” You said mindlessly tucking her into your pocket, lightly rubbing her head as it stuck out.

Milo glanced at you. He knew you didn’t mean the way it came out but his brain immediately ran with the implication of having a kid with you. And even if it was just a cat, it brought an unexpected swelling to his heart.

“Mila.” He said softly, looking at you.

You smiled at her, not noticing Milo was gazing at you, “awe, that’s yo name from yo daddy, girl. It’s probably the only contribution he will ever make but at least it’s something” you said jokingly, petting her head.

He smiled at you, lightly licking his lips with a small head shake before looking away.

“Welcome to the family Mila.”

Another weekend at the Morales household and you found yourself in the kitchen.

Tonight was movie night for the three of you, which meant endless snacks and drinks were going to be shoved down your throat until you were stuffed to the brim. Was it healthy? Absolutely not. But does it taste good? 100%

But there was a predicament. Your “assigned” cup was on the highest shelf, and happened to be right out of your reach. You would’ve climbed on the counter to get it, but last time you tried to Jeff damn near killed you for “putting your nasty feet on his fresh cooking counters”, so that was off the table.

Usually Miles would be the one to get your cup because of the location. But when you called out for him to come in and help there was no response.

That was until Milo walked in, a slight hunch in shoulders as he walked lazily into the room. He smacked his lips, “He’s setting up the movie, whatchu want?” His tone, though somewhat annoyed, was oddly soft.

With a quick roll of the eyes you pointed to the cup in question. “Can you grab that f’me?”

He looked at you blankly for a second before nodding. “You know you don’t always gotta use that cup right?” He said amused, seeing the other cup selections that you could reach.

“Yea but that’s my cup.” You said matter of factly, facing your back to the counter so you could lean against it. He shrugged, walking closer towards you. “Whatever helps you sleep at night ma.”

He reached over you grabbing the cup.

His cologne was strong in your nostrils, such a gentle yet masculine scent wafted through your senses. It was intoxicating, yet not enough to be overwhelming.

You noticed the slight freckles that rested through Milo’s neck ran up his jaw. He had a very small amount of soft beard hair he had started to grow, barely visible had you not been looking so hard.

“Starings rude ma.” Milo said as held the cup, breaking you out of your trance.

You looked into his eyes, “Don’t flatter yourself sir.”.

Milo was oddly close, but it didn’t feel uncomfortable by any means.

If anything it felt natural, as if this is how close he should be at all times. “You seem to be flattering me ‘nough for the both of us.” He teased, his voice stringing deeper and huskier than usual.

You didn’t miss the small glance he held at your lips, his eyes lingering for a second before meeting your gaze again.

The air became thicker. It didn’t feel nauseating or suffocating though. It felt like a blanket had been placed over your body, effectively making you feel hot inside.

It was a feeling you had only ever felt at the thought of Miles.

Milo licked his lips as his eyes trailed up and down your features. There was an unrecognizable look in his eye. And even though unfamiliar, the way he was gazing at you sent a rupture of butterflies through your stomach all the way to your heart.

“Guys I got the movie on.” Miles walked into the kitchen, his attention placed on the phone in his hand.

Milo swiftly placed the cup on the counter next to you and moved back to the opposite counter. “You guys ready?” Milo asked as he looked up, a large smile playing at his face.

Milo looked at you once more before answering “yea.”

The Morales household was quieter than usual. Jeff and Rio had left for the night on a ‘one night parent only’ vacation, trusting you and the twins to be civil for their night out.

The soft moonlight shined through the window of Miles' room, caressing his floor.

As you were laying in his bed, he was sprawled out on top of you holding you close; something that would happen often at your sleepovers.

Miles had fallen asleep on you over thirty minutes ago; leaving you staring at the ceiling as he cuddled you.

Saying you were bored was an understatement. But you knew he often didn’t get to sleep well, so waking him wasn’t an option.

Letting your state of uninterest in sleep win, you attempted to wiggle his limbs off of you to make leeway to leave.

He mumbled gently under his breath, telling you to ‘stay still’. You stopped for a second, contemplating listening to his drowsy pleas.

Had you not been bright eyes and bushy tailed you most likely would’ve, but laying in a dark room with nothing to do but stay still absentmindedly was beyond even your infatuation for the boy. Sighing out a quick apology and a promise to return soon, you snuck out of his grasp.

Making a split second decision, you decided on heading to the kitchen for a snack.

The home was calm, an unoften serene that only happened in the dead night. It was just you and the JBL that stayed in the kitchen together.

Connecting your phone to the speaker, you turned on your soft Spanish playlist. You decided to take the initiative to clean the dishes that you three had piled up over the night. Even though you created the least amount of the mess.

…

The late night snack you had originally planned on getting had been tossed out the window.

The Music aided dearly in making the cleaning process quicker, swaying your hips to the soft sounds of guitar and humming along to whomever was singing as the songs ran on. Even if you could only pick out bits and pieces of the words they spoke as the dishes clinking was sometimes louder than the music, you mumbled what you could make out.

You were truly at peace.

You were unaware that Milo was still awake in his room playing on his console.

Hearing the soft Melodie’s coming from the kitchen, he hopped off the game to see what was happening. After sneakily making his way to the kitchen, he saw your dancing figure cleaning.

Leaning against the entrance to the kitchen, he watched you attentively; eyes following every movement you made.

Milo knew the way he felt in his chest was beyond infatuation for you at this point. He truly wasn’t sure to be relieved at the fact that you were unaware of his feelings, or want to crumple up into a ball. But as long asn you still liked his brother, it was for the best you didn’t know.

As the song came to an end the humming from your lips continued. Finishing up washing the dishes and setting them aside, Milo crept up behind you.

Placing his hands lightly on your hips, you jolted, startled by the presence behind you. You quickly turned around breaking the grasp he had on your hips, looking to see who had broken your serene. Of course.

Lightly punching his chest, you glared at him annoyed, “what the hell Milo! I damn near had a heart attack.”, you carefully whisper-shouted, in hopes to not wake Miles.

You turned back around to rinse out the sink, expecting him to move away from you, but he stayed behind you.

The soft sound of Natalia Lafourcade's voice filled the room, gentle music of “Soledad y el Mar” playing over the speaker.

Still feeling Milo’s presence behind you, you tilted your head over your shoulder.

“Do you need somethin-”

“Dance with me.”

He cut you off, his hands gently making their way back to your waist. You stared at him bemused, “I-what? No. I’m cleaning-” “dance with me.” He reiterated, “One song, this song and I’ll leave you alone.” You narrowed your eyes at him. You sighed, wiping your hands with the towel next to the sink. “You’ll leave me alone?” He nodded lightly, “For now. Damn just baila conmigo mujer.” Rolling your eyes, you nodded.

A lazy grin made its way to his face as he grabbed your hand gently turning you around, pulling you into his chest.

…

Oddly enough, you two quickly fell in sync. It was almost- nice.

He placed his hands around your waist again as you hummed lightly to rythm, swaying your hips against his.

He nestled his head into your shoulder.

A soft sigh escaped both your lips at the same time. You were surprised as he hummed with you to the cadence of her voice, “You know this song?” You whispered lightly, but loud enough that he could understand you. “Mi mamá plays music like this all the time when she cooks. It’s usually Ismael Rivera, but she has a few different people.” His mumble fell gently into the cusp of your neck. You hummed, nodding understandingly; recalling all the times you would hear Rio play her music as she cooked when you would hang out with Miles.

What he failed to tell you was that his dad would do just as he did when he saw his mother humming to the soft sounds of Spanish serenades in the kitchen. Jeff would whisk her away and dance with her; sweet affirmations of his love falling into her neck. Milo would catch them all the time when he and Miles were in their rooms, usually coming out for a moment to get water but instead ending up watching them silently from the hallway.

As the song neared its end he held you close, the rhythm you two had built slowly turning into a soft rock.

The feeling was oddly domestic, too domestic. It made you wonder- more of a realization than piqued curiosity- if you wouldn’t mind doing this again.

If you wouldn’t mind seeing Milo’s face when you went to bed or woke up in the morning.

If-, that you wouldn’t mind having a future with Milo.

Unbeknownst to the two of you, Miles woke up noticing the warmth from your embrace was gone indicating you weren’t in his room anymore.

He decided to get up, thinking you were in the kitchen getting a snack. As he walked out his room quietly, he heard the sound of two voices, your and his twin.

He stood silently in the hallway watching the sight in the kitchen. His face contorted from tired to a very displeased look, jealousy enveloping his body as he watched what was happening.

You would only do things like this with him, only share such loving embraces with him, not his counterpart.

When did you two become so close?

As his eyebrows furrowed, he went back to his room; choosing against ruining happiness that radiated from the two of you,

choosing to return to his bed cold and alone.

BONUS:

As the song ended, Laura Fygis rendition of “sabor a mi” replaced the tune. Milo gently let go of you with a small sigh, turning to leave you alone after one song as promised.

With a quick bite of your lip and a moment’s contemplation, you gently grabbed his bicep stopping him from leaving.

He turned his head over his shoulder to look at you, “you and I both know it’s criminal to not dance to this song.” You raised a brow, avoidantly asking him to dance with you again.

A smirk reached his lips, his eyes glistening, “Just say you can’t get enough a’me ma.” His hands swiftly lead right back to waist, smoothly joining your footing in sync once more.

“Don’t ruin the moment morales”

©axeoverblade

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[kwanisms]

Kinkuary 12 Seungcheol — daddy kink // sex tape/photos

➥ daddy dom!Cheol × little girl!Reader summary: Seungcheol loves falling into his caregiver role as Y/N's daddy but he loves it even more when his baby lets him take pictures of her for him to use when he's alone on tour. wc: 2.4k warnings: afab reader, adult dialogue, sexual content (minors dni!): dom!Cheol, sub!Reader, dd/lg themes, daddy kink, oral (f receiving), fingering, finger sucking, spanking as punishment, use of pet names (baby girl, little one, angel, etc), unprotected sex (pls use protection!), lowkey love-making, sex tape/photos, Cheol has a big d!ck (sorry, we on the monster cock idol agenda), please let me know if I missed any! Permanent taglist: @yoonguurt @candidupped @dejavernon Kinkuary full taglist: @baldi-2 @wonderfulshinee @lacie220900 @sup-dallyboy @drunk-on-dk @violagoth @mixling-blog @dilfjohnny @fairylixie_0915 Seventeen taglist: @aikisbbq @95cheols @niktwazny303 @indigo35 @moonlightsora @witherednotes @cixrosie Strikethrough means I cannot tag you. MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. Join the taglist!

a/n: apologies that this is late. I’m working on getting back on track! I will never get tired of big d!ck, daddy dom Cheol. Ever. I love those themes with him and I can't associate him with anything else. I also love writing for Cheol so much. Thank you for reading and I hope you like it! As always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only. banner made by me. I do not allow reposts or translations of my works. All my works are ©️ kwanisms.

════════════════════════════════

It was a very well known fact that Seungcheol loved to take pictures. He loved capturing bits of his life and memorializing them forever. None of that changed, even after you started dating. He just had a new subject to photograph. A new muse.

Despite finding his need to constantly photograph you silly, you were happy to oblige him when he wanted to snap a picture of you in the kitchen or when you were out on a date. He just loved to take photos of you so he could look at you even when you weren’t around.

Early on in your relationship, Seungcheol made it obvious that he was in charge in the bedroom and when you finally opened up about your kinks, he was totally on board. Most of the time he was Seungcheol, leader of Seventeen, S.Coups and you were his girlfriend Y/N.

But there were times, especially when you needed to be taken care of, where you were his baby and he fell into the role of caregiver as your daddy and nothing filled him with a strong sense of pride quite like you putting your trust in him entirely.

“You taste so good,” Seungcheol groaned, licking his lips. Your fingers tightened in his hair, a whimper escaping you as you felt his tongue drag against you. He’d always been vocal about how much he enjoyed going down on you. Even if he didn’t get his dick wet, he could eat you out for hours and he’d done it before.

“Cheol,” you moaned as the tip of his tongue swirled your clit before his lips wrapped around it and he sucked softly. “Yes baby?” He asked, pulling away for only a moment. “Nothing,” you breathed, waving your hand. “Don’t stop.” Seungcheol’s lips pulled into a smile briefly before he continued, licking and teasing your clit.

One of his hands held your hip, your thighs over his shoulders, while the other moved to push your thigh back, opening you up to him more. His tongue disappeared sliding into your hole while his nose bumped against your swollen clit. He groaned against you, the vibrations making your body shudder.

Your stomach muscles tightened as you felt your impending orgasm approach only for Seungcheol to pull away, letting it fall flat, making you whine in protest as he sat up, wiping his mouth and chin with his shirt before moving to lean over you, lips finding yours as one of his hands snuck down your stomach, fingers skimming your skin until he was pushing two fingers inside your wet cunt, making you moan against his lips.

“God I can’t wait to fill you up,” he mumbled, his fingers moving slowly in and out of you, scissoring them to make sure you were more than prepared to take him. No matter how many times you had sex, he always had to take his time to properly prepare you before he could get his cock inside you.

One of the many things you loved about him. His laugh, his eyes, his dimples, his morning voice, and his massive—

“Hey,” he said softly, drawing your attention back to him. “Where did you go?” He asked, an amused smile forming on his face. Your cheeks burned and you shook your head. “Oh, come on baby,” he purred, dragging his fingers against your walls. “You can tell me.” You shook your head again, too embarrassed to speak.

“Were you thinking about my cock?” He asked suddenly, surprising you and making you gasp.

“N-no!” You lied but Seungcheol could see through it. “It’s okay, baby girl. I know you love daddy’s cock,” he said, leaning down to press his lips to your cheek as you whined in embarrassment. He pulled back, a grin present on his lips, dimples on display. “You don’t have to feel embarrassed, baby,” he cooed.

“Do you want it now?” He asked, slowing his fingers and waiting for you to answer. Nodding, you mumbled out a yes, cheeks still flushed.

“All you had to do was ask, little one,” Seungcheol answered, pulling his fingers from you and sitting up. You watched as he stripped, removing his clothes and tossing them towards the hamper in the corner of the room, not caring whether or not he made the throw.

“Top or bottom?” He asked climbing back onto the bed. “Bottom,” you whispered as he hovered over you. “Of course,” he said with a smirk. “My little pillow princess,” he added, taking you in a searing kiss. “How do you want it?”

You knew he was asking if you wanted it rough or soft. He always asked this and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on even more, that he was able to prioritize your experience and pleasure over his own.

“Slow,” you murmured. “Hmm?” Seungcheol asked, enjoying the way you blushed and squirmed under him. “I didn’t hear that princess.”

“I want it slow, daddy,” you blurted out, the eternal flush on your cheeks burning just as much as before.

“Slow?” Seungcheol asked, dipping his head to kiss your neck, lips dragging up to your ear. “You want daddy to take it slow?” He asked again, making you nod. “Want me to make love to you?” He whispered. “Yes,” you breathed out as you felt him grind against your soaked center.

“If my baby wants it slow, then she’ll get it slow,” he muttered, guiding the tip of his cock to your slit, brushing against you teasingly before pushing past your folds, gliding the head in. Your back arched off the mattress, one hand gripping the sheets under you, the other grabbing his arm, squeezing his bicep.

“Always so tight for me,” Seungcheol whispered, kissing the tip of your nose. “Relax, sweetheart. Let me take care of you.” As your body relaxed under him, Seungcheol was able to glide in further, your tight walls welcoming him with erratic fluttering as he slid in further and further until he was fully encased inside you.

“Eyes on me, pretty,” he said softly as he stilled inside of you. Your eyes met his and you felt your cheeks burn and the urge to look away but you held his gaze. A smile spread across his face as he reached up to caress your cheek. “That’s it,” he said sweetly. “There’s my girl.”

You whined at the amount of affection he was giving you, your hand on his arm squeezing softly. “Daddy, please,” you whimpered, attempting to move your hips but his weight on you kept you in place. “Please move.”

Seungcheol let out a chuckle and nuzzled your cheek. “Since you asked so nicely,” he murmured, pulling out before pushing back in slowly. It felt good but not enough to give you what you were craving.

“Faster, daddy, please,” you whispered. “Faster?” Seungcheol asked, keeping the same languid pace. “But you asked for it like this. Said you wanted it slow. This is slow, baby,” he murmured, pressing short chaste kisses to your cheek. “Do you want it faster?” He whispered in your ear. “Yes,” you gasped as he gave you a sharp thrust. “Yes, daddy,” you answered.

“Then I guess I can give you what you want,” he muttered, hips moving faster, burying his cock deep inside you with each thrust. You moaned loudly, walls clenching around him. “You’re so responsive,” Seungcheol noted. “You react so well to me.”

Your brain was understanding him but unable to form a response except in whimpers and moans. Seungcheol didn’t seem to mind, instead focusing on keeping a steady pace and not pounding into you like his instincts told him to.

“Oh, shit,” you cursed, immediately regretting the words when you heard Seungcheol click his tongue. ‘Fuck.’

“We’ve talked about this before, little girl,” he said in a darker tone. “I’m sorry, daddy,” you replied quickly. “It just slipped out. I won’t do it again,” you tried to backpedal but Seungcheol wasn’t having it.

You whined as he pulled out of you, sitting back and grabbing your hips to roll you over onto your stomach. “We’ve talked about your language,” he said, pulling you back onto his lap. “You know the rules,” he added as he held you still. “No, please, I’m sorry!” You whimpered frantically, crying out when you felt his hand land a sharp smack to your ass.

“Me too, baby. You know I’d rather be making you feel good but we have rules for a reason.” Your body jumped as you felt another blow land in the same spot. “I’m sorry, daddy. I’m so sorry,” you whimpered, holding back a sob as his hand made contact once more with the same spot before rubbing it soothingly.

“I think three is enough,” he said as he continued to caress the reddened skin of your bottom. “Keep this in mind and think before you speak, little one,” he added, leaning over to kiss your shoulder.

“Are you okay?” He whispered, checking to make sure he hadn’t hurt you. Nodding, it took a moment to form a sentence. “Yes. I’m okay.” Seungcheol pressed another kiss to your shoulder before letting you go.

You climbed off his lap but only made it a short distance away before he was pushing you onto your stomach.

“Hold still,” he said sternly, keeping one hand on your shoulder, the other gripping your hip and pulling up so your ass was raised. “You still want it slowly?” He asked, his voice low. You nodded, turning your head to the side as your cheek was pressed to the mattress. “Do you trust me?” His voice was even softer now.

You nodded, letting out a sigh as you felt his cock grind against you.

“I trust you.”

Seungcheol wasted no time, pushing back into you from behind, snapping his hips in evenly timed thrusts, his cock hitting deeper in this new position and the angle making you see stars in your vision with each measured thrust.

“Does that feel good, baby?” He growled, watching the way your ass bounced each time his hips hit you. “Feels so good, daddy,” you moaned, fingers curling into the sheets. “Cock feels so good!”

Seungcheol let out a chuckle. “Can’t even form full sentences? Is it that good?” He asked, keeping a firm hold on your hip, his other hand keeping your chest pressed against the mattress. “Is daddy fucking you dumb?”

A whimper left your parted lips but you couldn’t deny it when he was right. You couldn’t form a full sentence. He’d once again rendered you speechless with just a few sharp thrusts.

Seungcheol glanced to the bedside table where his phone sat and had an idea. He loved to memorialize most moments with you and this was no different.

He slowed his hips. “Grab my phone,” he ordered, moving his hand from your back. “W-what?” You asked, being lost in another world from how good his cock felt that you hadn’t heard him properly.

“Grab my phone from the bedside table, angel,” he repeated, nodding towards the device.

You reached out, grabbing the edge of the phone and held it up for him to grab from you.

“Stay still,” he warned, opening his camera and lining up the shot. He snapped a couple point of view pictures before turning the camera to video and pressing the start button. His hips continued to snap forward, thrusting hard and deep into you, making you moan out. On screen it looked amazing.

Your reddened ass from his earlier punishment, the way your ass bounced with each thrust, the base of his cock visible every time he pulled back, even the way your fists gripped the sheets.

He knew he was going to save this for later use.

After ending the recording, he locked the screen and tossed his phone to the side on the bed and gave you a few more thrusts before pulling out with a hiss. You whined as he rolled you over, spreading your thighs and sliding his cock back into you.

Your thighs rested on his as he grabbed his phone with one hand and your waist with the other. He opened the camera again, snapping a couple pictures before starting another recording.

You moaned out, keeping a firm grip on the sheets as your boyfriend resumed the same pace from before.

You looked up to see the phone in his hand and whined. “Are you recording this?” you gasped.

You could see the smirk on Seungcheol’s face. “Shh,” he said, letting go of your hip and moving to caress your cheek, his thumb brushing your lip and entering your mouth when you parted your lips. He let out a growl as you sucked on his thumb, his thrusts increasing in speed.

“Such a dirty little girl,” he grunted. You moaned around his thumb, whining when he pulled his hand from your face, fingers skimming down the skin of your neck past your collar, stopping to cup your breast and squeeze gently. “You gonna cum for me?” Seungcheol rasped out, his hand traveling down your stomach and stopping just above where your bodies met.

You nodded quickly, moaning when you felt his thumb start rubbing against your clit in time with his thrusts. He pointed the camera down where he could see his cock disappear repeatedly inside your warm cunt. “Be a good girl and cum for daddy,” Seungcheol groaned, continuing to record as your walls convulsed around his cock.

“That’s it,” he breathed as your moans grew in volume and pitch until your thighs attempted to close but he pushed them apart with one hand, keeping one thigh pinned as he continued to thrust into you. “You’re gonna make me cum,” he moaned. “D-daddy,” you whimpered as your walls clenched around him again.

“Oh fuck,” Seungcheol groaned, hips stuttering as his cock twitched inside you. He came with a loud moan, his release coating your walls as he continued to fuck you through his high until he slowed to a stop. Keeping the camera trained on your cunt, he slowly pulled out, moving to record your fluttering hole as his cum slowly spilled out of you.

He pushed his cum back into you with two fingers before turning off the recording and setting his phone aside.

“I can’t believe you recorded that!” You finally said after coming down from your high. “Don’t worry, baby,” he said, continuing to push his cum back into you as it tried to escape.

“That’s for my eyes only.”

[longwuzhere]

My Adventures with Superman Season 2 Easter Eggs

WHAT A FANTASTIC FINALE! HOLY SHIT! I TEARED UP SEVERAL TIMES AND MY GOD WAS THIS SUCH A GOOD FINAL EPISODE FOR SEASON 2!!!! This may be the last Easter Eggs post, episode wise, but we still have the other 4 issues of the comic so come back here each month for that and also at the end I'll give you some recommendations to keep you occupied til season 3 gets a premiere date.

My Easter eggs lists for season 1 is here if you haven't seen it!

My season 2 episode 1 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 2 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 3 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman comic issue 1 post is here

My season 2 episode 4 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 5 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 6 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My Easter eggs and references for My Adventures with Superman comic issue 2 post is here

My season 2 episode 7 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 8 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 9 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My Easter eggs and references for My Adventures with Superman comic issue 3 post is here

Spoilers if you haven't seen the episode

Starting things off the episode title is My Adventures with Supergirl. An obvious nod to the show title, but also good way to acknowledge the journey we had with Kara whether its seeing her past, what she did under Brainiac's control, and what our trio will do to help Kara be free from Brainiac.

Makes sense that Henshaw is part of the Human Defense Corp (or Squadron in this case) and it looks like the fool dies so maybe Cyborg Superman in the future who know, but I talked about the Human Defense Corp here and Hank Henshaw here.

As Superman and Kara lie on the street thanks to the Metallos and Brainiac's control over them, we see them get saved by the Intergang and Livewire and Heatwave! I talked more about Intergang here and Livewire and Heatwave here and here respectively.

Later in the scene Roughhouse makes a subtle reference to Lobo, but "the Main Man" in this case is referring to General Sam Lane. But if Lobo shows up in a future season, I'll talk more about him, and god I want to see him show up so bad!

Over where Lois, Jimmy, and Steve are, the Metallos chase after them and are saved by Dr. John Henry Irons a.k.a. Steel! I talked more about him here. I'd love to see him wear the helmet like his comic counterpart and the red cape in a future episode.

Later in the episode Superman, Kara, Intergang, Livewire, Heatwave, and Steel attack Brainiac's station and were able to break though his defenses and as they enter Brainiac's chamber, Brainiac activates Kara's brainwashing saying "Eradicator Override"

If you know your Superman comics, the Eradicator was first mentioned in Action Comics Annual #2 (1989) [W: Roger Stern, Jerry Ordway, George Perez, P: Mike Mignola, I: George Perez, C: Glenn Whitmore, L: Bill Oakley] where it was a weapon that was used to kill the Cleric on Krypton who was spreading his message about peace and the unethical uses of cloning on Krypton.

The weapon would later be found by Superman and it caused more problems for him until he threw it away in Antarctica where it created the Fortress of Solitude.

Later during the death of Superman, the Eradicator would emerge as an energy being who takes on the visage of Superman, take Clark's body back to the Fortress so he can heal, and would be one of the four Supermen who took over for Superman at that time. This version of the Eradicator first appeared in Action Comics #687 (1993) [W: Roger Stern, P: Jackson Guice, I: Denis Rodier, C: Glenn Whitmore, L: Bill Oakley]

When we see Kara fight Superman under the control of Brainiac later, she has red eyes just like the Eradicator in the comics as shown here in the panel from Superman #82 (1993) [W&P: Dan Jurgens, I: Brett Breeding, C: Glenn Whitmore, L: John Costanza].

Later in the episode, Clark, Lois, and Jimmy try to calm Kara and help her fight against Brainiac's influence and they succeed (also had me tear up in that moment too) and shout out Kara's Canary Cry! Black Canary would be proud AF!

After pushing back on Brainiac's station Clark and Kara battle Brainiac in space and Brainiac monologues about Krypton's destruction and his excuse of existing. He activates the weapon that destroyed Krypton, the Black Zero Protocol.

The first and only known version of Black Zero that destroyed Krypton was in Superman #205 (1968) [W: Otto Binder, P&I: Al Plastino] where the saboteur was hired to destroy Krypton by accelerating the internal planetary stresses that caused the planet to explode. He was planning on doing the same to the Earth before Superman stopped him. Other iterations and uses of the Black Zero name include, a Kryptonian Terrorist Group that created a computer virus of the same name that infected the Fortress of Solitude, a clone of Conner Kent, and a Kryptonian military group.

After Kara took the hit and plunged into the sun, she and Clark are saved thanks to their Kryptonian physiology because they get their powers from the Sun. You notice their Kryptonite scarring/veins glow a gold color bringing to mind...

Superman Prime One Million from DC Million #4 (1998) [P: Val Semekis, I: Prentis Rollins, C: Pat Garrahy & Heroic Age] who is OG Superman after outliving all his family and friends traveled throughout the DC universe and absorbing the Sun's radiant energy for like hundreds of years where his powers are now near infinite levels giving him this gold look. This version of Superman according to Grant Morrison is the same as the one in All-Star Superman.

In a Kryptonian religious sense, you could argue that Rao, the sun god of the Kryptonians, saved his last two people from death and giving them power to fight against Brainiac.

The MAwS crew really love their DBZ cuz the sun aura Clark and Kara give off is the same vibe as what Super Saiyans have when they power up.

We then see Kara and Clark glow a red and blue aura respectively which, I might be reading into it a lot, could be symbolic of Nightwing and Flamebird, the Kryptonian gods/heroes/dragons and the identities that Clark and Kara took up at one point in the comics with Clark taking up the Nightwing name and Kara taking up the Flamebird name. Also maybe its Superman Blue and Superman Red sorta deal who knows. It was cool though.

By the end of the episode we see people tuning to the aftermath of what happened and we see Channel 52 on display. I talked more about that here.

We then see Lex and Slade looking up on the LexCorp building. I talked more about LexCorp here but its first appearance in the comics is in The Man of Steel #2 (1986) [W&P: John Byrne, I: Dick Giordano, C: Tom Zuiko, L: John Costanza] as shown below:

Shout out to Clark still wearing the Stussy S/the cool S

and finally we close out the episode with Clark and Kara going to stop the fire at Perez Plaza, named after legendary artist George Perez.

George Perez is well known for his Wonder Woman run and being the co-creator of the Teen Titans in the 80s with Marv Wolfman. He helped design Lex Luthor's iconic battle suit (I really hope to see it in MAwS someday). Perez also had a run on the Superman comics too. He worked on Action Comics for a short while as penciler and did some breakdown work on the title. He also wrote and inked on the Adventure of Superman comics. Perez wrote, did the layouts, and drew the cover art for the 2011 Superman run. If you love the Teen Titans/Titans, like me, you gotta give thanks to this man.

DC in 2022 did a really awesome tribute to him by collaborating with other DC artists to show how much of an impact his career was on the DC universe give both images a look cuz its beautiful and you can see which artist did which character. Also check this video out and see George Perez work his art magic:

And with that our episodic look at the Easter Eggs and references come to an end, but we still have the other 4 issues of the My Adventures with Superman tie-in comic so come back here again in August for that.

In the mean time when we get a date for season 3 I highly recommend reading the My Adventures with Superman comics, read The Man of Steel (1986) limited series because a lot of pop culture's understanding of the Superman mythos and characters comes from that limited series, read the Death of Superman, A World Without Superman, and Reign of the Supermen because you will see how much of an impact Superman made defending Metropolis from Doomsday, his death affecting everyone he met, and his glorious return. Also give the DC Rebirth era of Superman comics a shot too because you get to see Lois and Clark raise a son. The DC Infinite Frontier Superman run that came after the Rebirth era is just as good that I highly recommend reading too. Out of continuity wise definitely check out Superman: Secret Identity, All-Star Superman, Kingdom Come, the current World's Finest run, and Superman vs the Amazing Spider-Man.

In terms of watching highly recommend watching Superman the Animated Series because that series is equally good to MAwS and it helped build out the DCAU which I also highly recommend everyone to dive into. Shin Ultraman (and hell basically all of the Ultraman media) because like Superman its an alien who defends the Earth, hides amongst the population and actually thinks human beings can live up to their potential. Tsuburaya's Ultraman and Superman would be damn good friends. If you need some goofy fun, the Super Friends is a fun watch if you need light hearted cartoons.

My Easter eggs lists for season 1 is here if you haven't seen it!

My season 2 episode 1 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 2 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 3 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman comic issue 1 post is here

My season 2 episode 4 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 5 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 6 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My Easter eggs and references for My Adventures with Superman comic issue 2 post is here

My season 2 episode 7 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 8 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 9 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My Easter eggs and references for My Adventures with Superman comic issue 3 post is here

[tofixtheshadows]

@myszkaa It is completely bizarre to me, when I consider the story of Dungeon Meshi to be so clearly laid out, but I know it's because 1) fandom will always rally around the easiest, shallowest readings, the quickest and least challenging impressions, and, more importantly, 2) these attitudes will always affect characters of color in the most negative light possible. Seeing what's been happening to Kabru and Toshiro (and inevitably with Thistle I'm sure) feels like living through a time loop because they're the exact things I've seen happen in every fandom, like clockwork. The takes are all the same, just with different set dressing.

Because Kabru is positioned in the story in a way that is the slightest bit "oppositional" to golden boy Laios, and because he is not white, he is treated as inherently sinister and antagonistic, assumed to be full of himself and incorrect, because Laios is "right" so therefore Kabru must be "wrong." He is not given anywhere near the same amount of grace that his white counterparts are given. For example, I cannot imagine a fandom that would let Chilchuck be their darling if he were not white.

Even the most positive depictions of Kabru- normally from people invested in shipping him, so they don't register what they're doing as biased- often portray him as more aggressive than he is, whether that's making him short-tempered and violent or just mean and catty. Or he will be a prop for another character. Or they will go in the opposite direction and claim that there's absolutely no good reason anyone could possibly ship Kabru with anyone, and donwnplay his significance in the story to an absurd level.

Meanwhile his very obvious PTSD has only recently started to be talked about in fandom. I seriously did not see anyone actually use the term PTSD to describe Kabru until about a month ago, despite the fact that his PTSD is portrayed as clearly as Laios's autism, complete with triggers and flashbacks and panic episodes.

I like to write about Kabru because I find him and the story fascinating, but part of my motivation is that I want to make the fandom sympathize with him more. I'm trying to purify polluted waters one drop at a time.

[comradekarin]

Daemon was possibly worst off that Alicent and Rhaenyra in the repetitive scene front and yet he managed to gather the biggest land army TB has. Jacaerys secured key alliances with the North, Vale and the Twins & suggested a more stable version of the dragonseed plan. Aemond is hadcore carrying Team Black. Cole had managed to basically cut Dragonstone by land and his plan took down the most dangerous dragon the Blacks had. They Did Stuff, amidst having their own emotional character arcs and they have made moves that are logical and further their causes. The biggest thing Rhaenyra did was a desperate ritual sacrifice, giving dragons to guy she doesn't know anything of and one of which is very obvious loose cannon. The most significant thing Alicent did was... sell her entire side off, which kinda goes against her previous characterization. Rhaenys? Died the silliest death, by being a experienced dragon rider that allowed a downed lizard the size of a building to sneak up on her. Rhaena left All her resposibilities, to go chase a dragon in the dumbest way possible, without any forethought; the amount of plot armor required for a girl without provisions to survive IN THE VALE (where raiders are plentiful, remember Cate and Co having to fight back in GoT) in colder times. There' a pretty big difference in how men and women were portrayed and I wouldn't call the show particularly feminist, despite the overexposition of Rhaenyra and Alicent.

anon, you perfectly articulated my thoughts. the men in the show are able to have their own emotional arcs without it hindering the execution of their end goals. on the other hand, all the female characters follow this identical “no violence” prototype that actually harms not just their relationship with other characters but the narrative itself. and what’s worse is that a few of these female characters are portrayed differently than their season 1 counterparts. in season 2, there are a lot of contradictions and inconsistent characterizations that don’t serve a narrative purpose. and this is not to say that all of the men are perfectly written, either, nor am i trying to imply that rational characters are inherently good characters. but, all of the choices the female characters are making aren’t reflective of their season one traits, let alone the books. and these choices are being made so we can stick with this narrative that “its the men that are violent, and all the women are trying to navigate around them”. it’s silly. i go further into how exactly here.

i do wonder what we mean when we say a piece of film is “feminist” though. just because female characters are centered in a show doesn’t inherently mean a work is inherently feminist. as you said, rhaenyra and alicent do have the most screentime in the show yet nothing of substance is really created with that time. how can the show even be seen as “feminist” when the women are reduced to these one dimensional archetypes that don’t move the plot forward.

furthermore, how many times can the writers get away with the narrative that “fire and blood is ambiguous and not wholly rooted in truth”? it’s true, yes, but they are using this to make drastic changes to characters and plots that don’t even make sense half the time. it’s just bad writing. yet when i bring up how drastic the writing between the male and female characters are in the show differ, everyone throws a fit. it’s not wrong to have critiques, especially when the writing choices made in the show resemble one of fanfiction. at what point does “taking creative liberty” turn into “writing what i want to see”?

again, this is not me hating the show per se. i still have my own favorite characters, favorite moments, and favorite dynamics. i just wish the intentions with the female characters were there. how the writers baited the audience into thinking this would be the case with the season one finale just for it to not turn out to be true? it’s just wild to me.

[ofduskanddreams]

Pierce The Clouds

for @elucienweekofficial day 2: magic

A/N: I say this is "from the vault" because it's based on part of an old (no longer public) fic that I plan to rewrite if I ever have the time. I wasn't planning on posting anything today, but I couldn't get this idea out of my head so here we are :)

READ ON AO3 | RATED: E | CANON-TYPICAL VIOLENCE | 8.3k WORDS

When Lucien encounters trouble in the mortal lands, the bond draws Elain's shuttered power to the surface. Everyone knows that getting between a Fae and their injured mate is a death wish, but no one, not even Elain, knows just how far her magic is willing to go.

Lucien

He winnowed directly from the entrance of the Hewn City into his apartment in Velaris. He kicked off his shoes and fell back onto his bed, ignoring the slight cloud of dust that puffed up from the duvet on impact. 

Two minutes, he told himself. Two minutes to close his eyes and soak in the blissful silence.

Lucien didn’t want to think about that meeting, it all made him too uneasy. Eris had mentioned nothing about a plan to kill Beron, he’d simply thanked Rhys again for hosting him for Winter Solstice again and made a snide comment about how unfortunate it was that Cassian—“that Illyrian brute” as Eris called him—didn’t let him within twenty feet of Nesta this year. 

Rhys, looking as bored as ever, had signed his approval on a trade agreement between the Nightmares and Eris’s territory in Autumn: ore for agricultural products. Lucien and Rhys spoke mind-to-mind about how it was suspiciously mutually beneficial, but on paper, he could make no objections.

Dealing with Eris always left him unsettled, and waiting for the other shoe to drop. Growing up with his brothers, it was second nature to expect every good deed to have an equally bad counterpart. But with Eris, the shoe hadn’t dropped. Yet. That was the most unnerving thing, what would be the cost of centuries of Eris’s so-called generosity towards him?

With a groan, Lucien forced himself to get up and change. He grabbed the second bag in the line of pre-packed leather duffels lining the wall near the door. It was a system he had developed while working as Tamlin’s emissary. A bag of necessities and appropriate clothing for each of Prythian’s courts, spelled with simple enchantments to keep everything fresh and wrinkle-free. The bag in his hand, for the human lands, was newer than the others yet still worn and marked by a small white leather tag.

Rhys had suggested that Lucien take Eris’s news that all was quiet with Beron and Koschei to Vassa sooner rather than later. The knowing look in Rhys’s eyes made it clear he was offering Lucien an out from family dinner should he want it. 

With a wave of his hand, Lucien put out the fire in his fireplace and winnowed to the woods outside the wards he’d placed on Vassa’s manor. The near evening light lacked any sparkle as it filtered through the dull green canopy above him. He was grateful to Rhys; he didn’t want to think about trying to face Elain right now, unsettled as he was. It was hard enough to play that politely distanced courtier for her on a good day. 

Lucien was a patient male, he prided himself on his self-control but even he had his limits. Elain wasn’t happy. He felt it through their dulled bond, and his instincts screamed at him to do something about it but he couldn’t. Being around her made it even more obvious and equally more difficult to ignore. Elain acted like she was happy, and was probably unaware that he knew her true feelings. It wasn’t his place to say anything so he’d been distancing himself. It seemed to be what she wanted.

Lucien walked through the manor’s gates and immediately came face-to-face with a flustered Jurian.

Jurian braced a hand on his shoulder as he caught his breath. “Impeccable…timing,” Jurian wheezed.

Lucien’s metal eye whirred in its socket, examining. The wards were fine. Nothing was on fire. There were no screams or clashing blades ringing through the air.

“What’s wrong?” he asked Jurian.

“I was just about to send for you,” Jurian began, leading him towards the manor doors. “A few minutes ago, I had a runner come saying that there was a fight on the border. Apparently some of Nolan’s men got into it with a unit of your Prythian Guard.”

“Fuck,” Lucien exhaled, dread simmering in his veins. “Any injuries? Casualties?”

Jurian shook his head as they entered the manor hall. “The poor kid only said one injury before passing out on my office floor.”

“We don’t know if they were human or Fae?” Lucien inquired, dropping his bag and taking out the spare dagger he kept there. He sheathed it next to the short sword he always carried on his right hip.

“No,” Jurian sighed. “Since it could be either, I think it’s best if we both go.”

Lucien nodded in grim agreement.

It took them half an hour’s hard riding to reach the second garrison of the Prythian Guard. The Guard had been one of Lucien’s better ideas, endorsed by Rhys to address Tamlin’s non-existent border security. It was a peacekeeping force made up of Fae representing every court to monitor the border where the wall once stood.

It would have been easy for Lucien to winnow himself and Jurian, but riding in alongside the former human general sent a better message in this situation that and outcomes, could easily escalate into a greater conflict. Riding was also a thrill Lucien had enjoyed for as long as he could remember. He didn’t understand why most High Fae avoided it.

The sun was setting when Lucien dismounted at the wooden gate and nodded to Jurian. He would continue on to Nolan’s outpost and figure out what he could. With both sides of the story, maybe the two of them could piece together what actually happened.

The guard standing watch—Winter Court if his fair hair, skin, and frosty eyes were a sign—opened the gate for Lucien with a deferential nod.

“They’re all in the main hall,” he said, taking the reins from Lucien.

As he crossed the dirt courtyard, Lucien tried his best not to jump to morbid conclusions. The likelihood of this sparking another human-fae war was slim. If he was being honest, he’d poured so much of himself into maintaining peace since the war with Hybern ended that any breach of it felt like a personal attack. He was glad that his magic was still drained from all the winnowing he’d done in the last day and a half. If it hadn’t been, sparks would fly from his fingertips.

The sight that met Lucien in the chamber was far from encouraging. The assembled grave-faced guards stepped aside in a wave of pewter gray to reveal a male laying on a table. For a sickening heartbeat the male’s golden hair looked like Tamlin’s, but as Lucien stepped closer, he saw gray hairs mingled with gold and speckled with blood.

Lucien had to grip the table to keep from falling to his knees, because the male taking wet, ragged breaths was Valin.

“Lucien,” a voice addressed him. 

Lucien looked up from the table to find Bron, one of Tamlin’s former sentries standing beside him, the crest of a commander on his gray uniform.

“What happened?” Lucien seethed behind gritted teeth.

“Valin had his unit on their regular patrol when they came across a bunch of Nolan’s men, drunk. They were aggressive, trying to cross the border and hoping for revenge from the sound of it. The unit followed protocol and was working to disarm the group with minimal injury when Valin took a scatter-ash arrow to the chest. Under Valin’s orders, they didn’t retaliate and half of them escorted Nolan’s men back to their outpost while the rest brough Valin here.”

“I should have known the prospect of ordering people around would have drawn Valin out of retirement.” Lucien and Bron exchanged sad smiles. Valin was Andras’s older brother, had been the captain of Tamlin’s sentries since his father had ruled Spring. He retired a few decades after Lucien arrived in the court, to start a family when he found his mate. But they’d stayed friends, Lucien had visited often and written when he couldn’t.

“Talia should be here soon, I sent a winnower to her as soon as I saw him,” Bron spoke quietly.

“He won’t make it?”

Bron closed his eyes and shook his head. “Scatter-ash, it’s Nolan’s latest invention. The arrow heads and lower shafts are made of ash chips somehow melded together so they break into pieces if the arrow hits bone or is removed.”

Lucien’s elbows hit the table as he rested his head in his hands. The sound of running footsteps made him snap upright, just in time to see Talia burst through the doors. She froze, nostrils flaring as she scented her mate’s blood.

“Everybody back to your posts,” Lucien ordered softly, and the room cleared save for himself, Talia and Bron.

In the blink of an eye, Talia was standing beside her mate clutching his hand to her chest. Her translucent wings shivered as tears fell silently down her face.

The room was quiet, save for Valin’s jagged breaths that were slowing by the minute. Lucien and Bron stood together in mute vigil for their fallen friend and mentor as the sun sank beneath the horizon, coloring the room a somber shadow-blue. Lucien would never forget the moment Valin’s heart stopped and his soul crossed the Veil. Talia froze before she began shaking. Then she fell to her knees, hands clasped over her heart and screamed.

That scream of unearthly sorrow and rage and grief hit Lucien like a serrated blade to the gut. He saw Bron stagger as well under the weight of Talia’s pain as half of her soul was ripped out and cast to the void. Lucien had only read about what could happen following the death of one’s mate. He couldn’t stop himself from picturing Elain on that table, dead. The thought of that golden light in his chest winking out threatened the stability of Lucien’s knees.

The wail turned to a choked-off sob. He wished he could go to her, but there was no comfort he could give that would ease the force of her grief. Eventually the sobbing stopped and Talia slowly turned to them.

“Who?” she growled, rage blazing in her eyes.

“Talia, an off-duty human guard shot him,” Lucien spoke carefully with his hands outstretched, palms up in a gesture of peace. “I will meet with Lord Nolan in the morning and demand he turn over the man responsible. His judgment will be yours to give.”

Lucien looked to the side at Bron who gave an imperceptible nod before he stepped forward slowly. 

Bron approached her as one might a spooked horse. All Fae knew there were few things as dangerous as a mate seeking retribution—instinct could spark a bloodlust in the most peaceful of souls. Once Lucien felt relatively sure that Talia would allow Bron to help her prepare her mate’s body for the pyre without killing him, he slipped out of the room and down a narrow hall to the guest officer’s quarters. 

He wasn’t able to shake the smothering, bone-rending sadness he felt. He couldn’t bear the thought of what Talia must be going through; couldn’t stop his mind from reliving the night Jesminda’s life was stolen by his folly.

Lucien collapsed onto the small bed in the dark, cold room. He couldn’t staunch that gut-wrenching grief he’d buried so deep. He closed his eyes but immediately saw the light leaving Jes’s walnut eyes. When he heard the wet slice of a blade meeting bone, of her head hitting the stone, Lucien’s eyes flew open. He was drowning in grief too long ignored.

He jolted when there was a sharp tug behind his ribs, hard enough that his breath hitched.

Then there was a bright warmth blooming. 

Lucien sat up, but no—he hadn’t accidentally started a fire. It happened rarely, when the nightmares were at their worst and he would wake to the acrid scent of burning fabrics.

An image of small hands buried in a white mane flying flashed in front of his mind's eye.

And then he was a youngling hiding in the kitchens while his mother baked apple crumble and he stole as many bites as he could.

Lucien lay back and let his head hit the pillow as he was surrounded by the colors of autumn, shrouded in a blanket of sunset and he felt peace.

It was Elain; he realized with no small amount of wonder. Elain must have sensed him. 

All the hollow sadness was suddenly filled with a nervous amount of hope dashed with embarrassment. He was careful to keep his emotions to himself, had never slipped up like this before. Cauldron, she must have felt everything. The hope was a soft glow, Elain had never touched their bond before.

Jurian met him at the Garrison at dawn. From what he heard at Nolan’s outpost, it was exactly as Bron described. Nolan’s men claimed the fault lay with the Fae, but Jurian believed the guard had done everything by the parameters of the treaty.

Jurian agreed with Lucien’s plan to deliver Valin’s assailant to Talia. Then again, Jurian was one of the few humans with firsthand experience of what mates were capable of when truly motivated.

Lucien didn’t waste time setting out for the Nolan’s manor, assured that Jurian would inform Vassa of everything that had occurred. His magic was still somewhat drained so Lucien opted to ride again.

Recalling the memory from the previous night, Lucien smiled to himself. If Elain enjoyed riding, maybe he could ask her to accompany him some time. 

Lucien dismounted when the manor’s gates were in sight, leaving the horse to graze on dew-dampened grass. He’d only come to Nolan’s manor on foot before, better to lessen the chances of aggravating anyone. The guards posted on the gate were two Lucien didn’t recognize. He stopped some twenty paces back, their loaded crossbows trained on him. 

“Stay right where you are, Fae filth,” the shorter of the two guards called out. “Your kind isn’t welcome here.”

Lucien held both of his hands up, showing that he would make no move for his weapon.

“My name is Lucien Vanserra. I am an emissary, I mean no harm.” He choked on his family name but that was how the humans did it and he was here for the sake of peace. “I’ve been here several times before,” Lucien took a careful step forward. His gaze flicked between the short one and the one whose eyes were wide with fear. “Your commander knows me, he can verify my identity.”

“How do we know this isn’t just some magic trick?” the short one sneered.

Lucien took a calming breath, “I am here under the terms of the treaty between our peoples, that includes not using glamours to deceive you.” He took another careful step forward.

Only to be knocked back by a blinding pain near his heart. His ears rang, but he could hear the cadence of conversation. 

“You idiot. Set the lord’s hounds on him, leave no evidence.”

Then there was a riot of barking. For half a second Lucien found himself back in Eris’s kennels, the hounds greeting him. But these were not those hounds. 

Lucien felt several sets of teeth sink into his limbs. He couldn’t just stay here and die. That wasn’t right. It would hurt her. Elain. 

Elain, the name clanged through him. 

He needed a chance with Elain, with his mate.

Lucien reached deeply for whatever threads of dwindling magic he could grab and threw himself into the darkness, thinking of the first place that sprang into his mind. 

He didn’t remember how he crawled up the steps and through the off-kilter door, but his eyes opened to stare down at the familiar black-and-white checkered marble floors. His eyes closed at the sound of talons clicking against the cracked stone that shifted to familiar footsteps as every thought eddied out of his head and the world bled black.

Tamlin

He scented Lucien long before he saw the male. Tamlin cursed the spark of hope that warmed him at the thought that Lucien might give him another chance. But then he neared the manor and scented Lucien's blood and red stained his vision. He ran.

There was too much blood—the wounds weren’t closing. Cauldron, were those bite marks? Tamlin’s heart was beating too quickly, his hands crimson-slicked as he gently turned Lucien onto his back to reveal the splintered shaft of an ash arrow embedded not a finger’s width from his heart. Tamlin quickly dragged a talon across his ankle; it stung and bled a drop before closing—not a nightmare then.

Fuck.

Tamlin forced himself to breathe. To think. He would lose no one else. There were no healers here anymore. No one was here. So he had to go where healers were. Where there were people who were better for Lucien than he was.

Never again, he told himself. I won’t lose him again.

Tamlin summoned the strength he often tried to forget and, with enough force that the ground rumbled, he spoke from his mind, projecting it far north.

Rhysand. I’m bringing Lucien to you. I mean no harm. He’s dying, he needs a Healer.

Tamlin gathered Lucien into his arms and winnowed. Lucien was the only thing he had left to lose.

Time seemed to slow as the darkness pressed upon him. The first rule of winnowing is to have a clear picture of your destination. Lucien had told him about Velaris before Tamlin had banned him from his court in anger. Centuries before that, lifetimes ago really, the heir of Night and the son of Spring had gotten drunk together. The memory of Rhys’s description was faded but better than nothing, so Tamlin held that image close. 

Another image flashed before him, star-tinged—from Rhysand. A wrought-iron fence before the small yard of a home on a quiet street. 

Then he was there, shoving aside that gate and bounding up the steps. The door opened for him and Tamlin barely noted the towering Illyrian wings he brushed past as he moved to lay Lucien down on the table. A gray-haired female stepped towards Lucien’s prone form and Tamlin bit back a snarl, at the same time the High Lord of Night’s hand came down on his shoulder.

Madja’s our best healer, she’ll do all she can, Rhysand spoke into his mind.

“It's a new kind of ash arrow. It breaks into shards when disturbed,” Tamlin explained, his long unused voice rasping. “He winnowed from the mortal lands to my manor with that much ash in him. I would have said it’s not possible, but he did it.” 

Madja nodded to him and turned back to Lucien. “Sons of fire don’t burn out easily, this one still has a chance.”

Tamlin sagged with relief, then quickly straightened his spine. He’d already let these males see too much of him.

“Here,” Cassian grunted and shoved a glass of whiskey into Tamlin’s faintly trembling hands.

The reality of his situation came into sharp focus as the instinctive drive to protect his closest friend faded. He was in the Night Court. He didn’t exactly ask to come. They had every valid reason to hate him, especially Rhys and Feyre. Cauldron, they were the same reasons he hated himself. He could see Rhysand and Cassian exchanging a look that meant they were mind-speaking. Cassian… Rhysand’s General.

The gears turned. He was a High Lord who winnowed uninvited into another court’s territory. An action any laws of Prythian could construe as an act of war that. Tamlin swallowed the rest of his drink painfully. 

There was only one way to guarantee this didn’t turn that direction. 

So, Tamlin set down his glass and crossed the room to where Rhys stood. Pride be damned, he had already lost everything at this point. Tamlin took a deep breath and placed his right fist over his heart, speaking the ancient words: “I, Tamlin, High Lord of Spring, thank you for offering me aid in my time of need. As payment for this debt I will grant you, Rhysand, High Lord of Night, a boon. Please accept my gratitude.”

Faint clinks made by ash splinters landing in a metal basin punctuated the silence. Tamlin kept his eyes downcast at the red patterned rug until Rhysand held out a tattooed hand.

Tamlin clasped it with his own. 

“I accept,” Rhysand responded, his expression guarded.

A shockwave of magic radiated through Velaris as the bargain inked itself across the High Lords’ wrists, setting the glasses rattling.

Then, the door to the townhouse swung open with such force that the little window in it shattered. 

Elain Archeron burst into the room. Her half-feral eyes stopped on Lucien, then flitted to Tamlin as he stood and turned towards her. Her brown eyes turned to silver as she took in the blood staining Tamlin’s clothes. 

Her rage was an aura shimmering at the edges of her. She winnowed across the room in a blink, appearing in front of Tamlin and slamming him back into the wall. Her forearm pushed into his throat. She growled, each word dripping with the promise of blood: “What. Happened. To. My. Mate.”

Elain

This wasn’t right. Elain looked around at the bare-boned trees shivering dark against a faded sky.

She was in Velaris. She was staring at a rosebush. There were clippers in her hand.

But when Elain looked down, there were no clippers, and the air was colder and dulled. It took a moment for recognition to set in—she recognized these woods, that far-off stone wall with its grotesque iron gate.

She shouldn’t be here. 

Couldn’t be. 

That was Lord Nolan’s manor, but she was in Velaris. Feyre and Nyx and Cerridwen were playing on the other side of the gardens. She was listening to them moments ago.

But this world was silent.

She realized it was a vision when her feet began moving against her will.

Suddenly, she stood before the gates staring at two guards in Graysen’s father’s colors. But the vision shattered, cracking and falling like the shards of a mirror. 

And then Elain was curled up on the grass of her garden with a searing white pain in her chest. Feyre was screaming.

The world was shaking—no, that was her, shaking. Being shook.

“...lain. Elain, please open your eyes,” Feyre’s voice pleaded.

Elain slowly obeyed, squinting and blinking and trying to adjust to the brightness of the sun above her. It was hard to do anything with the memory of that pain echoing across her skin.

“I…” Elain’s voice cracked, her mind still reeling. “I had a vision, I’m fine,” she said weakly as she let Feyre help her sit up.

Elain realized her mistake when she saw how wide Feyre’s eyes had grown. 

“You had… a vision?” Feyre parsed out the words on her tongue, piecing together her elder sister’s lies of the past year and a half. “Elain,” Feyre said with an equal amount of shame and reproach. She took a deep breath, then said more gently, “Let’s get you inside, okay?” 

Was this the moment when the world crashed down around her feet? This lie, her secret, no doubt already reaching the minds of the inner circle via Rhys. Because this changed everything. That was part of the reason Elain had hidden it.

Elain nodded and let Feyre tug her to her feet.

She wasn’t dumb, though it made life easier when people thought she was. While the others thought she only read books on flowers or the romances Nesta pawned off on her, Elain had done her research. She knew Clotho had a personal weakness for lemon tarts and that the female was happy to offer her the sanctuary of the Library beneath the House of the Wind regardless of the unseemly times of day she showed up. 

Elain knew how rare Seers were. She knew how they were coveted by High Lords and Kings, wooed and worshiped until they were locked up or literally chained to a wall in one case. It was a terrible power, she’d never understood….

Why, in those frozen depths of the Cauldron, when the Mother had examined her soul and somehow found her ‘worthy,’ had she cursed Elain with this ‘gift’ that often drove its bearers to madness? 

Yes, the Mother’s gift included many other things Elain didn’t understand, but she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to be a Seer, didn’t want to live with the constant threat of her mind being violated by the past or future. She didn’t want to deal with the burden of trying to unravel all those damned riddles her sight enjoyed laying at her feet.

Swallowing her anxiety down, Elain let Feyre lead her into the house and press a cup of tea into her hands. But that pain was still throbbing—enough to make her feel lightheaded. Elain couldn’t shake off the small voice screaming “something is wrong.” 

And then it clicked into place. Lucien. She’d been sensing him through the bond more recently. That must have been his pain. Which meant something had gone terribly wrong… Nolan’s manor. That vision had been of Lucien, or at least what had happened to him.

“Elain, what can I do?” Feyre’s question broke the clamor of her thoughts.

Mate. Protect him. Save him. That inner voice commanded with so much dominance Elain almost leapt off of the settee despite herself.

She couldn’t deny what she saw, what she was feeling. But something stopped her from voicing all of it to her sister. 

“I… I think I would like to lie down for a while, if that’s alright,” she answered Feyre in that soft small voice everyone thought was her only one.

Elain lost herself in thought while she allowed Feyre to lead her up to her room. She didn’t understand this thing writhing within her, this bond. Lucien was a stranger. Yet, even as a stranger Elain didn’t wish that kind of pain on anyone—she wanted to help, to soothe, to heal. Those had always been her core intentions. Even before she nearly drowned in the Cauldron and somehow emerged with the gifts of the Mother that made those instincts stronger. 

She hadn’t realized it until that fateful day, nearly a year ago when Nesta had sacrificed her magic to save Nyx, Feyre and Rhys. That was when that shimmering well of power sparked. While Nesta had laid herself across Feyre’s ashen form, Elain had dived into that inner abyss—had begged the Mother to let Nesta stay, to see that Nesta’s heart wasn’t owned by the Cauldron’s icy void, that Nesta was just trying to protect everyone, that Nesta deserved to live.  

Thankfully, the Mother had listened. Elain had mentioned nothing about that day. She scarcely dared think about it. Nesta would have died if the Mother hadn’t intervened. It was only the second time Elain had ever let that power fill her veins, to sever the Cauldron’s grip of Nesta’s soul—to keep it from killing her. The first had been during the war when she’d somehow winnowed and found her hand clenched tight around Truth-Teller, buried in the King of Hybern’s neck. 

Feyre drew the curtains shut while Elain sat on the edge of her bed. 

 Please leave, Elain hoped as Feyre turned towards her in the dim faelight.

“Do you want to be alone?” her sister asked.

“I think I’ll sleep for a while.” Elain pasted on an encouraging smile.

Save him. Save him. Don’t let it fade. The voice chanted.

As soon as the door shut behind Feyre, Elain moved: out to the balcony, down the trellis of ivy. She knew the way with her eyes closed. She’d spent many sleepless nights watching the Sidra drift by or scanning dusty tomes for answers that didn’t exist.

Elain’s slippered feet hit the frostbitten earth, the voice growing louder. She was tired of fighting it so, for the third time, Elain gave up. She let that shimmering light rise to the surface, allowed that voice to guide her steps. When she reached inside for that golden ribbon she knew would lead her to Lucien, she fell to her knees in the dead grass. 

No.

There wasn’t a ribbon. There were only ragged threads. Elain focused her hearing, no matter where he went she could hear it. His heartbeat was there, but it was too slow.

No.

Save him. Save him. Protect. Defend.

Elain let that unknown power force her shaking legs to stand. She could question all of this when she knew Lucien was safe. She’d already broken character, let Feyre see the truth. Pretense was irrelevant now. It was the least she could do after all, for the male whom had saved her countless times without knowing it.

She took a step forward, letting that power fill her vision as darkness pressed in on all sides and then she was standing outside of the townhouse. She’d winnowed again, somehow. Elain would worry about that another time. 

The air smelled strange. She could scent Lucien, closely mingled with another of stale flowers and rain and… blood. Icy dread sluiced through her veins at the realization it was Lucien’s blood. All Elain saw was red and light. She felt a pulse of magic, heard a faint shatter of glass.

Mate. Save him. Protect him.

There was Madja, staring blankly at her, bent over Lucien’s body—he was unconscious and covered in drying blood.

“Mate. Protect,” was the last thing Elain remembered hearing before her power consumed her completely.

Elain woke to the sound of hushed voices. She was lying on a hard surface.

“Was knocking her out really necessary?” Nesta quietly snarled.

“I didn’t ‘knock her out,’ I put her to sleep,” Rhys’s voice was calm yet equally hushed. “She wasn’t herself, Nesta. I didn’t want her to hurt anyone or hurt herself.”

“I thought she didn’t have magic anymore,” Cassian said.

“Well, I knew something was still there,” Amren sounded smug.

Elain cracked an eye open, just enough to get a blurry image of the scene. Feyre was slowly shaking her head, looking at the floor. They were still in the townhouse. Her head felt like someone had split her skull with a hammer and chisel.

“I found her unconscious in the garden this afternoon. I couldn’t get into her mind but when she woke up, she said she’d had a vision. I don’t know if it’s happened before, or if she’s aware of this power,” Feyre murmured.

“How long will she be asleep?” Nesta asked, concerned.

“She’s already awake,” a deep voice like honey rumbled from directly behind her, though it sounded strained.

Elain bolted upright, scrambled off the table and nearly head-butted the wall as the room swayed beneath her feet. Her fingertips dug into the molded oak paneling but then Nesta’s hands gripped her shoulders and steadied her. One of those hands moved to her cheek as Nesta turned her face to examine it. Elain shook off Nesta’s hand and turned back to look at the wide dining table where Lucien lay, his hair a sanguine red against a blue pillow.

She took a shaky step toward him before she stopped herself, ignoring that voice demanding she run to him and make sure he’s okay.

“Lucien,” she breathed. Her throat felt raw, like she had been screaming. She swallowed, painfully. “Are… are you going to be alright?”

“Right as rain, Lady,” he said with a smirk that twisted into a grimace as he coughed

Liar.

“He’ll be perfectly healed in a few days,” Madja explained from a chair by the fire. “He’s lucky he got here when he did, a few more minutes and some of those splinters would have reached his heart.”

“How do you feel, Elain?” Nesta asked softly, holding Elain’s elbow.

“I’m fine Nesta.” Elain’s words were clipped. She hated this feeling, that dark gap in her memory. 

Lucien coughed again, “She’s about thirty seconds from passing out if her heartbeat—cough—doesn’t slow and she has one of the worst burnout headaches I’ve ever felt.” His voice grew progressively quieter as he spoke. 

Elain rapidly snapped up her mental shields, but the exertion made her stumble.

Nesta gently shoved her down into an overstuffed armchair and forced a cup of water into her hand, gray eyes gleaming like daggers as she demanded Elain to drink.

Madja shuffled over and placed a wrinkled hand on Elain’s shoulder, the pounding in her head subsided but didn’t disappear. 

Feyre sat down on the ottoman in front of her chair. “Elain, can you tell me what happened? Do you remember?” 

Elain looked around the room. Lucien was now half sitting, propped up on a bunch of pillows. Nesta stood behind her chair, Cassian close to her side. Amren perched on an arm of the sofa where Rhys and Madja sat, behind Feyre. Azriel stood near the arched opening to the dining room, his shadows blending into the darkness behind him. What did she remember? What did she want to remember?

Elain knew she should handle this carefully, that she could play it right and keep things mostly the way they were before. But her head was so foggy, everything about her felt sluggish. What she remembered after she left her room were flashes, nothing coherent. Elain remembered the pain on Feyre’s face in the garden, when she’d suspected Elain had been lying.

Pain. She was in pain. Lucien was in pain. There was too much of it. Elain was tired. So very, very tired of pain. Elain took a deep breath and spoke.

“Earlier, I had a… vision.” She tucked her hand beneath her thighs to stop herself from wringing her fingers. “I saw the gates of Lord Nolan’s manor.” She forced her gaze to meet Lucien’s, “I felt those guards shoot you.”

Her eyes closed as her voice cracked. She couldn’t look at him without that voice chanting all the things she should do to those guards. Elain took a deep breath, “I felt your pain, that’s how I knew it was you. I feel nothing in my visions.” Unless they are about you, she finished in her head.

“I remember Feyre taking me up to my room. I remember leaving as soon as she left. I… I just couldn’t let anyone be in that kind of pain when I knew there was something I could do to help. When I tried to find you the bond—it was fading. I panicked, I could sense you were close to death.” Elain swiped an errant tear from her cheek. She shouldn’t be crying over a stranger. 

“That thing, that voice panicked and I could feel a sort of light, a power inside me and it wanted to get out. I could barely think straight so I let it—it felt like my best chance to find him. After that, it's just fragments. I remember standing outside of the townhouse. I remember it smelled wrong, like rain and dying flowers and Lucien’s blood.”

Elain noticed Feyre’s nostrils flare, then her whole body went rigid and her face paled. She stiffly nodded for Elain to continue but her eyes glazed over slightly.

“That’s really all I can remember.” Elain looked to the dancing flames behind the grate.

The silence in the room was broken when Rhys spoke a name, “Mor?”

Morrigan winced as she stepped out of Azriel’s shadows. “That's all she remembers,” she said Rhys.

Fuck. They used Mor? Was their distrust in her truly so immense? It hurt, more than Elain expected it would. Not that she could really blame them. Lucien looked shocked, but it seemed the others were aware. Mor, at least, had the decency to look apologetic.

Feyre moved off of the ottoman to sit on Rhys’s lap. Her color was better, whatever they’d spoken about mind-to-mind had worked. Rhys cleared his throat, “Well, let me show you all what I remember.”

Elain was grateful she was sitting down or she might have fainted as Rhys’s experience of events played through everyone’s minds, stopping on an image of her pinning Tamlin against the wall by his throat. 

“Fascinating,” Amren mused. She cocked her head, those unholy steel eyes flitting between Elain and Nesta, analyzing them as if they were one of her many puzzles. 

Elain’s mind was still trying to catch up with everything Rhys had revealed when she felt a sharp spike of self-loathing. She looked over to Lucien who wore a haunted expression.

“Stop that!” Elain hissed at him. 

Lucien’s russet and gold gaze turned sharply on her and Elain clapped a hand over her mouth, felt her eyes widen.

“Sorry I just… none of this was your fault Lucien,” she stammered, warmth rising to her cheeks.

“No, that’s not… never mind. You’re right,” his words were stilted. 

Elain noticed the others glancing between them, their faces betraying an odd mix of confusion and amusement. 

Before she had time to respond, Nesta snickered “You—you really…. Honestly, I’m jealous.”

Elain was confused. 

Nesta sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm herself. “Just—the next time you nail Tamlin’s balls to the wall—wait for me.”

Feyre snorted softly. 

Slowly, Elain turned to Rhys. “I…. Oh Gods… I attacked a High Lord… did I start a war?”

She held no sympathy for Tamlin, but Prythian was still recovering from the last war.

Rhys shook his head with a gentle smile. He asked Lucien, “Are you feeling well enough to head to the River House?”

Lucien nodded once.

“Right then, we will continue this discussion after we’ve all had something to eat,” Rhys concluded.

Cassian mumbled “about damn time,” as he and Nesta made their way outside.

Amren held her hand out expectantly to Azriel who rolled his eyes before winnowing away with the tiny ancient one in tow.

Rhys slung and arm around Lucien’s broad shoulders as he helped him stand. Elain was momentarily stunned because Lucien was taller than Rhys when she saw them side by side. No, that was a dumb thing to realize and why now…. Elain blinked a few times to clear her head.

Feyre and Mor were looking at her, waiting. Elain looked back at Lucien and Rhys, the latter now looking at her in silent question. 

She slowly rose to her feet, pleasantly surprised to find her legs steady. Elain took a step towards Feyre but the disquiet in her gut increased and she hesitated. 

“I’ll go with Lucien and Rhys,” she found herself saying. The nervous energy settled a bit more with each step towards them.

She didn’t even attempt to decipher the meaning in Rhys’s knowing gaze. Elain took his arm, and they winnowed to the lawn of the River House. Cassian was waiting for them by the door, taking over as Lucien’s support and disappearing into the house. Elain made to follow them but Rhys gently stopped her. 

“What?” Elain cocked her head at the High Lord of Night. For that definitely was not the expression of her smartass brother-in-law.

“I will allow you into this house if you swear to do no harm to my mate, my son, or any other members of my inner circle or guests of my household.” Rhys’s voice was the deep cold of a midwinter’s night.

Elain took a step back, eyes stinging. Did Rhys really think she would hurt her sisters, hurt Nyx?

His expression softened slightly, “The vow is a formality, Elain. I don’t think you would intentionally harm anyone but you… you weren’t yourself this morning. It will give you peace of mind as well, a guarantee that no one you care about would get hurt if you lost control again.”

That would be true, she supposed.

A part of her bristled at the ultimatum, that Rhys—the champion of choices—didn’t give her one. Another part of her was grateful, she didn’t trust herself. Hadn’t since she’d come out of the Cauldron. She’d buried her powers so deep because they scared her—that potential loss of control was absolutely terrifying. 

“I swear to do no harm to my sisters, my nephew, or any members of the inner circle or guests of your household,” Elain repeated as she held out her hand. 

Elain didn’t realize she was freezing until Rhys’s hand wrapped around hers, the warmth and the zing of magic pulsing through the air gave her goosebumps. She looked at their clasped hands and saw a tiny star tattooed on the inside of her right wrist. It was… cute.

Elain paid little attention to anything during dinner. Thankfully, everyone seemed happy to carry on their conversations without her. She wasn’t surprised, they normally were. She downed her first glass of wine and spent an hour picking at her food. Elain was grateful to be sitting next to Mor. In quiet solidarity, Mor kept pace with Elain. When the meal ended the two of them had finished a bottle.

She followed the others through to the sitting room, every sense softer—and she was delightfully warm. The events of the day felt less world-shattering. Elain’s mind was still drifting when Rhys called for everyone’s attention. Only then did the room come into focus. Amren, Feyre, and Nesta were giving her odd looks. She glanced down to see if she’d accidentally spilled wine on her dress only to meet Lucien’s russet-gold stare, not a foot below her.

Elain wished the floors would open up and swallow her. Apparently while her mind had wandered, her feet had carried her to stand halfway behind the chair where Lucien sat near the fire.

Good. He is still healing, watch over him, the voice said. 

Elain almost jumped at the sound, it hadn't spoken in hours.

To move away now, after everyone else had settled would be even more awkward, so Elain stayed. 

It’s just the bond. Just my instincts — it means nothing. They all know that, she talked herself down before she could feel too flustered.

“Alright Amren,” Rhys said coolly, holding his palm out in an invitation to speak.

Elain’s heart jumped into her throat. She felt like a child again, waiting for her mother’s tongue-lashing.

Would they ship her away like Nesta, or worse? At least Nesta hadn’t tricked everyone. She’d lied, but the lies were obvious. Elain had manipulated her family’s goodwill against them, for her own selfish comfort. She knew her powers could make a profound difference in the world… if she could bear to face them. 

She wasn’t like her sisters. She wasn’t a warrior; she didn’t want to lead people; she didn’t even want to be here half of the time. Elain missed being human, she missed the life Hybern and the Cauldron had stolen from her. She didn’t want this power in her veins so she’d done her best to ignore its existence.

Amren looked at Elain, her bobbed hair swaying as her head again tilted to the side, assessing. “This isn’t the first time. Is it, girl?”

“No,” Elain hated how meek her voice sounded.

“Well?” Amren motioned for her to elaborate. 

Elain took a deep breath that did nothing to steady her so she gripped the back of the chair, low enough that no one could see how weak she was. Feyre had no trouble commanding a room of faeries who hated her, but Elain was not her sister.

“I… um.” Elain stuttered.

Lucien shifted in front of her, crossing his arms and her breath hitched when she felt warm fingers brush against hers. The contact grounded her.

She swallowed and spoke. “The first time was during the war. I was pacing in camp when I saw Nesta’s blast. Felt it. I could sense something beneath my skin, like I was burning from the inside.” 

“I knew something bad was happening, could feel it in my bones. And then I heard a voice, your voice.” Elain looked at her little sister. “You begged me to save them.”

“I begged the Cauldron to save them,” Feyre explained. “How did you hear that?”

“The Cauldron and its power answer to ultimately to her, at least in this world. She knew you needed help,” Elain replied.

“Her?” Feyre asked.

“This world?” Rhys spoke at the same moment as his mate.

Elain blushed, she definitely said too much.

“Don’t get distracted, girl,” Amren chided.

Elain nodded and continued, “Well, I don’t know what I did. I just… let go. Let the light burn. And the next thing I can remember is my hand covered in blood holding Truth-Teller’s hilt in that King’s neck. I don’t know how I got there. I panicked when I realized what was happening—what I did. And well, Nesta took over then.”

Lucien’s fingers twitched against hers, the slight touch doing more to comfort her than was logical.

“The second time was different, internal. It was when Nyx was born,” Elain explained. Everyone in the room sat up a little straighter at that. 

“What I saw,” Cassian blurted out, “that was you? You stopped the Cauldron from taking all of Nesta’s power.”

“Not exactly me, but yes. I… well, it’s hard to explain since I don’t really understand it.” Elain paused, she really didn’t know if this would make any sense. 

“Just tell us as best as you can,” Lucien spoke for the first time since they’d gathered. 

“Well Nesta, remember the terms of your bargain? I’d seen what would happen, only I didn’t realize what the vision meant until you first said ‘I give it all back.’ The vision was a phrase: one life for three, moonlit death, what a bargain.” 

Elain saw Cassian stiffen as the meaning of the words hit him, he drew his wing closer around Nesta.

“Nesta, when you told the Cauldron you would ‘give it all back,’ you bargained away your life. I couldn’t let that happen so I reached out—reached down maybe, into the power. It’s kind of like a well right, so I dove to the bottom—to the heart, the source.”

“The source?” Amren prompted skeptically. 

“The Mother,” Elain replied.

Amren’s gray eyes went wide. 

“The Mother,” Elain continued, her voice more confident now, “is the only thing who can truly influence the Cauldron. She gave the Cauldron purpose when she created this world, the Cauldron loves her because of it.”

“What does the Mother have to do with Nesta’s bargain? How do you have a connection to her?” Feyre asked.

“Well,” Elain swallowed, trying to ignore terror brought on by the memories of that day in Hybern. She hadn’t realized her eyes had squeezed shut until another faint brush of Lucien’s fingers made her open them.

“When I went into the Cauldron,” Elain stared into the fire, “I was drifting for a long time until the Mother’s hand took hold of me. She said something about being pure of heart and told me the Cauldron would bless me with great gifts. And that she would always walk beside me.

“When I met her again, trying to save Nesta’s life from that bargain, I offered her anything she wanted as long as she made the Cauldron alter your bargain to let you live, to let you all live. She made me vow I would never seek to rid myself of my powers. I don’t know how much you all know about Seers, but it’s usually a cursed gift. They lose their sanity or become slaves and prisoners, often both. The Mother knew I didn’t want that. She knew it would be harder to keep the gifts than trade them for you. And well, here we are.”

The typically loud group of Fae were silent.  

“If you don’t believe me, that bargain is inked in gold on my spine,” Elain shrugged, trying to lighten the mood, her gaze still fixed on the fire. She could have sworn she saw a forest in the flames, a fox running between the trees. Then again, she’d had a lot of wine.

This world was bizarre, magic didn’t follow logic or reason. Compared to some stories she’d heard from this group—this might not even be the strangest. She felt light. Freer than she had felt for many years.

“Elain—” Nesta’s cracking voice drew Elain’s gaze. “You saved me. Twice. You saved Cassian’s life, too.”

“Considering how many times you’ve saved me over the years, Nesta, it was the least I could do to pay you back.”

Elain took a deep breath and addressed the room, breaking contact with Lucien and stepping away from the chair. “I’m sorry for keeping this all to myself. What I’ve told you all tonight is just a fraction. I was terrified—am terrified by all of this. It was too overwhelming, so I shut it all out. I know it was selfish. I’m sorry that I lied to you all, that I abused your kindness to shield myself from having to deal with any of it.”

Elain kept her eyes on the floor, waiting. For what, she wasn’t sure.

Nesta’s arms wrapped around her, squeezing. Feyre’s arms wound around both of them a second later. Warm tears tracked down her cheeks.

“I’m sorry I made you feel you couldn’t talk to me about any of this,” Feyre mumbled into Elain’s shoulder. “I hate that you’ve been dealing with this by yourself.”

“If anyone was selfish, it was me,” Nesta sniffed. “You were right that time at the River House. I was too consumed by my shit to realize you were going through it too, that you needed someone just as much as I did.”

Elain pulled away when it got hard to breathe, wiping the tears from her eyes and grinning at her sisters. Rhys cleared his throat. Elain saw Cassian wipe away a few tears of his own. She didn’t know why but she turned back toward Lucien.

He was smiling at her, his russet eye held a mix of wonder and pride. It was like Elain had spent the last three years under the clouds. Finally explaining part of what had been haunting her had revealed scraps of blue sky, but that one look from Lucien banished the rest. Like that smile was the sweetest ray of sunlight to ever shine. And maybe it would be okay.

tagging: @ablogofbipanic @damedechance @octobers-veryown @panicatthenightcourt @moonpatroclus @vulpes-fennec @krem-does-stuff @areyoudreaminof @spell-cleavers @fieldofdaisiies @foundress0fnothing @kingofsummer93

[beabnormal24]

Carlos’ future in F1: an essay

I lost the ask about Carlos’ future in F1 😭😭 but I’ll write my answer anyway (I’m so sorry).

The person who asked me said that they liked my writing so I’m going to write a whole essay for them.

No but, for real, all that I’m going to say is a product of many many talks with my boyfriend (he’s a Mechanical engineer, specialising in power train, he knows what he’s talking about) and my uncle.

Anyway, let’s go.

First option: Mercedes.

I honestly do not think it would be wise of Carlos to accept the second Mercedes seat: firstly, he would be just that, a second driver, even if probably in a less clear way than in other teams, but still a second driver.

On top of that, it is pretty obvious now that all Mercedes is looking for is someone to warm the seat for Kimi Antonelli so even if Carlos’ results would be amazing and spectacular, they would still prefer a young promise that they can build the car entirely around.

Which is exactly the reason why I think that Fernando Alonso would be a much better choice next to George, perhaps have his last 1/2 years in the sport and then retire for good (not because I think he needs to retire, it’s obvious how good he still is in the sport, what I’m saying it’s just a matter of probability).

Second option: Stake [future Audi]

It hurts me to say, but it’s probably the most probable outcome.

The thing is, Audi is looking for an experienced driver, of course, someone that can tell them exactly what they need to do to improve, someone who knows what he’s talking about because he’s good at his job and he has a particular sensitivity to the car.

And we all know that Carlos is exactly that driver, Ferrari and McLaren and Renault have frequently appreciated his skills in the matter. He knows what to look for in a car, how to look for it and how to give feedback.

On top of that, he’s a consistent driver that knows exactly how to bring the car to its limits. What I’ve always loved about Carlos is that he knows how to bring out the best from a car even if it is not built for him (Ferrari, for example, has explicitly said that they’re building the car around Charles which is plausible - do not hate Ferrari for that, every team has to decide a first driver, that’s how the sport works and that’s what the engineers need to think about the best project).

A new team like Audi will be in 2026, that will also have the slight advantage to other teams of entering the sport at the same time as new regulations, will need someone like Carlos.

Of course, not to mention the connections that he has thanks to his dad. (Do not hate on Carlos’ family under this post, everybody’s parent would try and give their sons/daughters their best options if they can. Hating on Carlos Sainz Sr for that is the most hypocritical thing you can do).

Counterpart? He would have to deal with Stake for the 2025 season and their objectively awful car, and it would kill me.

Third option: RedBull

Ah, yes but no.

Yes because I wish for him to have a good car, I wish for him to have a good team and be on the podium every weekend and have a few wins.

Him and Max have a good relationship (whoever says that Max hates him because he’s in love with Charles, what the hell is your problem? You can ship them, alright, and you can let your imagination fly, but always remember that there’s a difference between fantasy and real life, and real life is that Max does not hate anyone and in that fucking cool down room in Bahrein he appreciated Carlos’ racecraft - you can listen to the audio again and actually listen to it - and his clean overtakes on both Charles and George - not just Charles, there was George, too, if your brain fails to remind you) despite all the people insisting on their dads’ problem and all.

That’s the no part. Unfortunately, both Max and Carlos’ careers are a bit influenced by their dads, but again, we cannot hate them for that. That’s how families are, that’s how complicated human relationships are.

Parents try to give their sons the best, that’s just how it is.

Fourth option: Aston Martin

Is it an option? Yes, no, depends on what Fernando will decide to do.

But I honestly think it would be a really good choice. Aston Martin is a great team, top of the midfield, drivers can show their abilities in that kind of car, there’s no enormous drama or anything and Lance is a pretty good teammate.

Besides, if Fernando were to leave the team, they would need another driver to ‘take the lead’. Not that Lance would not be fitting, but I think Carlos would be a great option for the development of the car and for feedbacks (see previous point in Audi section).

Fifth option: Alpine

God, please, no.

(I’m already suffering enough for Esteban and Pierre, please stop).

Sixth option: Haas

See fifth option.

(Besides, I think they were planning on giving a seat to Ollie Bearman, anyway. Given the incredible result of last week, that will almost surely be the case and deservedly so).

Seventh option: Williams

See fifth option.

I love both Alex and Logan, and I hope they’ll keep Logan for the time being.

Conclusion: where do I want Carlos to go?

Carlos is an amazing driver, consistent, smart, fast, experienced.

He makes very few mistakes and he’s really intelligent, which means that he’s able to bring out the potential of a car even when it does not perform exceptionally.

Let’s all remember that he was the only non-RedBull winner last year. And no, not because they ‘sacrificed’ Charles, but because he knew exactly what to do and how to do it and when to do it - again, smart. And no, I’m not bringing down Charles by celebrating Carlos’ win. Latest news: you can celebrate different drivers without bringing down other.

(If that were the case, then you would have to kill all your siblings because how dare your parents celebrate their birthday and not yours on the same day? Please, be reasonable when you think, your brain deserves that).

Any team would be lucky to have him.

Personally, I hope for RedBull, because then he would get a chance to perform with a great car and one that adapts to his driving style (him and Max have a pretty similar setup and pretty similar preferences when it comes to the car, which would also be a great advantage for the engineering side of the team that I just cannot ignore since I study engineering myself hahah), regardless of the whole drama that usually takes place in that team.

About that, I would like to point put that RedBull comes first and foremost as a brand, not as a driving team, which means that media and public facades are a great part of its entire existence, that’s why there’s always talking around it.

That’s what they want, that’s what they need, and it’s understandable: Ferrari has its history, McLaren has its history and its ‘modernity’, RedBull has its brand.

And it’s okay because that’s how sports work in general, that’s how the world works in general.

We should just learn to differentiate between the public appearances and the actual important aspects of the sports (strategies and the mechanic and aerodynamic part of a car and the abilities of the drivers etcetera).

Realistically, I think he will probably take Valtteri/Zhou’s seat (sadly, of course, I love each and every one of them) and start at Stake for 2025 to be part of Audi for the remaining part of his career.

That’s it, that’s what I think. Thank you anon for the question, sorry if I lost it, I hope you liked my detailed answer. 💕🫶🏻

[enam3l]

rockstar eddie munson does halloween pt. 2

aka the year eddie had to start banning certain costumes

you can read rockstar eddie does halloween pt. 1 HERE

you can read all the rockstar eddie munson stories and lore at #enam3ls rockstar eddie

ok i got so carried away! but i wanted to do my first real smut. although i am sorry that all my smut is romantic, i can't help it! 4k words / cw: smut, NSFW, breeding kink, p in v, unprotected sex, MDNI

Catwoman. It was all catwomans fault. This was your fourth Halloween spent with Eddie and your annual arrangements were well established. The closest weekend to the 31st was when the gang would all go to Steve's for his annual Halloween party and you and Eddie of course had a matching couples costume. This year was no different, Catwoman and Slam Bradley were the chosen duo. Whilst Batman had been the obvious choice for Catwoman's counterpart, tights and a cape just wasn't quite Eddie's look. Slam Bradley who was a rogue hardknock with a detest of the police and corruption however was right up Eddie's street. Plus it meant seeing your man in a suit which was a far too rare occurrence for how good Eddie looked in them.

In your defence, you'd argue Eddie knew exactly what he was doing by choosing a character that allowed him to look rough and sexy whilst also in a suit. He knew exactly the way you'd look at him, your pupils dilated, your breath hitched and the way you'd cling to him, making any excuse to touch him. He knew because everytime he'd worn one in your presence, you'd done all of those things and repeatedly had to be reminded you were both in public - which actually didn't bother Eddie but he thought you wouldn't be pleased if paparazzi caught you feeling his ass cheeks in his perfectly fitted suit pants.

:readmore:

This year however, you weren't going to be able to have your usual road trip together up to Steve's. Corroded Coffin had a gig on the Friday and you had work commitments that you just couldn't avoid. Resulting in you and Eddie being separated for a week before you could be reunited at Steve's party. This also meant whilst you knew what characters you were, your actual costumes were going to be a surprise. You'd decided to base your Catwoman off Julie Newmar's, you'd always loved her sixties hair and make up and Eddie had made no secret about believing she was the hottest Catwoman so far.

When Saturday came round you could hardly wait to be reunited with Eddie, you hadn't been separated that long for years. You'd travelled down after work on Friday to Steve's and Eddie was to arrive on Saturday evening just in time for the party. The house was perfectly set up, the open planned kitchen and living area dark except for coloured disco lights and filled with extravagant decorations most of which you and Eddie had crafted. Jonathan and Argyle had taken full advantage of Steve's expensive speaker system to set up a whole DJ booth. You, Nancy and Robin had pretended to be witches brewing potions whilst you made a variety of cocktails to fill cauldrons. Dustin had already become too excited for the evening and had knocked over two of the cauldrons so a quick trip to the shop was now in order after you'd gotten ready.

Robin Nancy and Max had let out raucous wolf whistles at your finished look when you left the bathroom. You batted at them giggling but you couldn't deny you were pleased how it had come out. Your hair was down with the front pushed back by a pair of cat ears, after plenty of practice from glamming up for red carpets, gigs and award shows for Corroded Coffin, you'd been able to perfectly capture the Julie Newmar sixties make up with dark eyeliner and thick lashes. In a vintage store you'd found a long golden necklace and a golden belt that hung tight and low on your hips. The only problem in putting your costume together had been sourcing a tight shiny jumpsuit like Julie wore so you'd compromised with a black latex mini dress with long sleeves. It cinched at your waist, complimented by the belt and bringing out your curves. You'd managed to find a pair of black pointy leather knee high boots too and then some elbow length gloves. Honestly, you were excited to see Eddie's face knowing he'd love seeing his favourite girl dresses as his favourite Catwoman.

Carefully, whilst slightly clinging onto Robin you went downstairs in order to go out to replenish the booze Dustin had thrown everywhere. Thankfully missing the sheepskin rug and saving you all a Dad lecture from Steve. Robin snatched the car keys out of your grasp, with a smirk and a smack to your ass which made a ridiculous sound against the latex.

'Sorry hon, those boots were not made for driving... but I think that outfit might get us a discount at least.'

Robin wasn't wrong. The man at the checkout had shamelessly hit on you and you missed having Eddie's large frame by your side to shield you and scare off creeps. By the time you pulled up to Steve's house the party had begun and you prayed Eddie had arrived. Steve appeared from round the back of the house, having heard the car from the garden. He hurried over to help you and Robin with the excessive amount of booze you'd bought as well as the giant marshmallows that Robin had insisted on last minute.

Turning his attention to you as his picked up some bags, Steve nodded his head towards the front door and said

'Y/N, lover boy arrived. Go through the front door. He's been sat there waiting for you since the moment he got here like a sad puppy.'

You couldn't help but squeal and practically skipped over, bundles of marshmallows in hand. The second you opened the door he was there. Stood waiting for you. The marshmallows flopped to the floor as you ran and leapt onto Eddie. Your arms curled over his neck, your legs wrapping around his waist as his hands instantly went to support you up. He smelt so good, more like home than any place you've ever lived. Cigarettes and honey and firewood and just a natural Eddieness that couldn't be bottled. As your nose had been buried into his neck, you realised how stiff his body felt against you. Confused, you let yourself drop down and he immediately retracted his touch.

You searched his face, his eyes burnt into you and his lips were pulled tight into a thin line. He looked furious and you had no idea why. Desperate to break the tension you pawed at the suit he wore, taking it in for the first time. It was a new one, a deep charcoal grey and tailored to his form perfectly. The first few buttons of his shirt were undone, the edges of some chest tattoos poking out and his tie was loosened. He looked effortlessly handsome, it was cruel really that after a whole week you now see him for the first time looking better than ever. Your try to avert your eyes from how the suit trousers gave you a generous outline of his cock that you'd missed you much.

Letting his tie slide between your fingers, you looked up at him admiringly and murmured

'Look so handsome, Eds. My beautiful boy.'

You were aching to get a smile out of him but instead he picked your fingers off him and then dropped your hand away.

Your face fell, you couldn't ignore this anymore. You were shocked that this was your greeting. As you opened your mouth to speak, you were stopped by Eddie holding a finger up to silence you.

In a stern voice he finally spoke 'Bathroom. Now.'

Smacking his sassy little finger away you marched off down the hall towards the downstairs bathroom hoping maybe following orders will at least give you answers.

Eddie is quick behind you, as soon as you enter he shuts and locks the door. He stands with his back to you, his arms stretched out bracing him on the door frame and his he let out a heavy sigh.

Now you really were baffled. Stood in the middle of Steve's beautiful big white marble bathroom, you felt small like a school girl in trouble.

Your looking down at your boots, clicking the pointed toes together anxiously as he turns around and in a clipped tone asks

'What. Are. You. Wearing.'

You raise your head now, mouth agape and completely indignant. Never has Eddie once attempted to control what you did or wore and never in a million years did you think he would. He was as creative and expressive as you, it's one of the things you loved about him.

But when you look into his eyes you realise they aren't angry, his pupils are completely blown out, they're lust filled.

Looking up at his handsome face, now strained with how tight his jaw is clenched, you bat the thick lashes you applied and stare at him innocently with big eyes. Your lip pouts out and you murmur

'I was trying to do Julie Newmar's Catwoman for you Eds, she's your favourite right?'

Momentarily a little softness spreads across Eddie's face, he loves how you remember every little detail about him. He steps slowly toward you now, somehow he feels taller than usual. One of his fingers now glides along the hem of the latex dress then stops, hooking under it and pulling it towards him. Then he lets it snap back, the fabric making a wet slap sound against your thigh. Leaning into your ear he whispers

'I don't remember Julie wearing such a tiny fuckin dress.'

Eddie lingers close as he lets his nose glide above your ear and into your hair, deeply inhaling the smell of you he's been deprived of for a week. You're desperate to touch him, to cover him in a weeks worth of kisses but you aren't sure what game he's playing for if he is playing a game.

Shyly you stutter 'D-do you not like it...'

He hooks his calloused fingers now through the gold belt to pull you closer by your hips and his presses his forehead against yours. He inhales deeply again as he closes his eyes and quietly admits

'Baby...my baby girl. I like it too much.'

A breath you feel you've been holding for the past ten minutes finally leaves you and you move your head up so your noses are touching. You rub your noses against each other as you admit

'Eddie, you scared me. I thought I was in trouble. Thought you were angry to see me.'

Finally he pecks a small kiss to your lips. You frown it's not enough. He smirks

'Oh no. You are in trouble missus'

Another peck.

His hands now start to glide over your body, as if making sure you're still the same as when he left you.

'Very bad.' Peck.

'Cruel even' peck.

'To greet me for the first time in a week' peck. 'In the sexiest outfit I've ever seen' peck.

'At Steve's' peck.

'Not our home' peck, peck.

'Where I can't throw you over my shoulder' peck, peck, peck.

'And hide a way with you in this fucking outfit for another week'

You've caved by this point. Arms thrown around his neck as your lips desperately crash into his. All the longing from your time apart, mixed with the tension he'd just built all being put into it. Your tongues reunite as both your hands get tangle through the others hair.

You begin to suck Eddie's bottom lip and he groans into your mouth, responding with a harsh spank against the latex covering your ass.

Pulling away now to take you all in, a cheeky smile spreads across his face

'I think I like this material babe, think I gotta buy you a whole new wardrobe of it.' He takes one of your gloved hands and stretches your arm infront of him. Removing the glove and tossing it aside, he runs his thumb over your knuckles.

You both gaze at each other, feeling complete now you're able to touch and see the other.

Eddie begins to plant delicate kisses up your arm.

It's hard not to swoon over how sickeningly tender and romantic he can be.

'Missed you so much Eds, didn't feel complete without you. Hated how cold and empty our bed was without you there.'

He nods as his kisses reach your shoulder and go across your collar bone. He plants one big kiss along with a gentle suck at your throat and a small moan escapes your lips.

'I know baby girl. I can't sleep without you now, barely slept the whole week. Can't function without my love beside me.'

A wet but passionate kiss is shared between both your lips now and you smile against each others mouths.

Eddie continues his trail of kisses now down your sternum, his hands coming up to run thumbs over your nipples. Gently tugging at them as they begin to peak through the latex. Then he moves down to your stomach, his hands pressing gently against your abdomen where he knows he'll feel his cock poke at deep inside you later. Then his lips reach your pelvis. A flurry of kisses are placed there as his hands use your ass to push you forward into his face.

His calloused fingers then sneak underneath your dress, squeezing your ass cheeks the gliding round. He looks up at you to ask for permission to lift the dress. You can only smile at his big brown eyes and nod, your hands stroking his hair.

Eddie rolls the right dress up. Revealing a pair of black mesh panties. The transparency revealing your nearly trimmed pubes. He presses his face in, inhaling deeply.

'You... your smell. God, it's like a drug. Nothing soothes me more'.

You ruffle his hair and laugh at his dramatics.

He gives your pussy a little spank then for teasing him.

'Don't laugh babe! I had my sweatshirt you wear and a pair of your panties in the hotel bed with me. It's calming. Your actual perfume and ... your natural perfume.'

A giggle escapes you as Eddie sits there on his needs in front of you. His chin pressed to your pelvis and he gazes at you with the most beautiful and loving eyes you've ever seen. The way he worships you and the love he makes you feel is overwhelming, something you didn't think existed beyond books.

Eddie feels the same. The way you look at him like he hung the moon and the stars. The way you love him unconditionally for who he is. He's going to marry you one day. He's known that for a while now. The week apart just made it clearer than ever. Especially when he found an antique jewellers near the venue. He's actually glad you were out when he arrived, it gave him time to pass the ring onto Steve for safe keeping.

Suddenly, you can't take it anymore. Your hands grip at his tie to drag up back up and your lips crash to his. Against his mouth you desperately whine

'Need us to be together now, Eds.'

He chuckles against your lips

'Yeah, we are back together now baby girl, it's okay.'

You shake your head, he's not understanding. Your hands stroke along his hard cock, more prominent than ever in the tight suit pants. Yeah, you're glad he didn't debut this new suit at an awards show again.

'No, Edward. Need you inside me.'

The full name alerts Eddie to your desperation. He's quick to rejoin your lips, letting your tongues tangle in each other as he brings your thighs round his waist. Your thighs feel the cool marble counter underneath as Eddie places you on top, slotting between your open legs. Both of you ravenously rub and grab the other. Your hand continues to massage Eddie's rigid cock as another desperately tries to undo the trousers separating you from your prize.

Eddie's thumb presses hard against your clit, circles massaged round the nub. His fingers rub and toy with your entrance. Your wetness exposing your desire as it seeps out and soaks the mesh of your underwear.

Gasps and moans fill the bathroom, neither of you able to form a sentence to ask the other to move on to the next stage. Until finally, a breathy 'Please... Eds' escapes.

Usually insistent on hearing you ask properly, Eddie too understands the urgency and immediately pulls your soaked underwear down your legs, precariously hanging off the tip of one boot. He leans back as he watches you finally release his begging cock. Throbbing with torment and already seeping a weeks worth of cum that had been waiting for you.

His eyes prick with tears as you break the charged moment but bringing your fingertips to your mouth, kissing them and then placing that kiss on the tip of his cock. A guttural 'Fuuuckkk' breaks from his mouth as you then lap the precum off your fingertips.

He grasps at his cock, pumping slightly as the pair of you watch as he aligns with your painfully empty hole. Once the tip enters and his length slowly reunites with your walls, both your eyes meet, his hands caressing your face and your hands squeezing his. An overwhelming sense of love and lust is understood between you.

Eddie begins to pump into you, your pussy contracting along its length. Your bodies feeling complete now the two of you are joined. The pair of you watch again as his thick cock slides in and out of your little hole. His hole. Every bit of you is his and every bit of him is yours. You belong together.

Your arms wrapped around his shoulders pull him closer so you can kiss and lap at his neck. Once your lips are near his ear you whisper

'Yours.'

It's understood. Eddie presses his forehead to your shoulder, his balls twitching at your love.

'Yours,' Eddie whispers back in agreement.

You're both close, the result of a week without release.

Eddie pulls at your hips now, he's moving you.

'I need you to see yourself,' he admits 'I need you to see how beautiful you are. Need you t'see why I couldn't control myself before.'

He brings you down off the top and turns you round so you face the big mirror above. Your dress above your ass, he has you bent over the counter, his cock still deep inside. You watch yourselves in the mirror as Eddie brushes your hair back over your shoulder and then points at your reflection'

'That,' he kisses the back of your head 'is the love of my life.'

His words are like bliss. Through a sniffle you beg 'Eds, make me cum please, my pretty boy.'

He daren't refuse you, pushing you down a little further over the surface, he slides one arm around your stomach so he can rub your clit.

You're both desperate now. And his pace quickens. Eddie is pummelling your poor pussy. You moan between each slap of his heavy balls against you

'You're. Mine. Forever. Eddie.'

He keens at your words, the knowing he's going to ask you to make that official driving him further towards an earth shattering orgasm. He presses his arm tighter to you now so he can circle your clit harder. His forearm against your abdomen proves his earlier theory correct, he can feel his big cock poking deep inside you.

You're gasping now, your pussy beginning to spasm and your clit throbbing on the cusp of release. You make sure to look at him through the mirror as you do. As your orgasm hits, it's intensified by staring into the chocolate eyes you love so much. You're practically dizzy as you moan his name and a series of 'I love yous.'

Through your drooping eyelids you can see in Eddie's face that he's about to cum too. His thrusts are hard and frantic as he chases the finish. You grab his arms and trap him against you so he can't escape.

'Inside,' you beg 'need your cum inside me, my love. Remind my pussy who owns it.'

This pushes him over. Eddie's cock spasms, hot cum filling you as his teeth bite at your shoulder.

Despite you being on the pill, each time he finishes inside you, there's an unspoken (or sometimes very spoken about) understanding that you both secretly hope he's just filled you with his baby.

As he catches his breath you slide slowly back and forth, milking every drop out of him. Making sure no bit is wasted.

You're about to begin your post sex ritual of telling each other sickly sweet things when the bathroom door flies open.

Both yours and Eddie's snap round as Steve's eye's widen in horror.

'OH MY CHRIST! YOU GUYS!' Steve shrills.

Eddie throws himself forward to cover your exposed backside, suddenly very aware his cock is still inside you and if he were to pull out Steve would be witness to his cum dripping out of you.

Your face is red and buried in your arms.

'Poor form! Not in my bathroom!' Steve although blinded by his arm, he turns to look at address both of you, 'I want you fully clothed and out this room immediately.' He tuts as he backs away and shuts the door.

A wild cackle erupts from Eddie, his body shaking your mortified one.

'Oh baby... I'm sorry but getting caught was worth it if I could have you in that costume.'

You groan whilst trying not to smile.

Eddie pulls himself out of you carefully and then cups his hand over your pussy.

He bends over to pull up your underwear with the other.

'Put these back on so you can keep me inside you.'

He pats your soaked underwear once he's put them back on you, then gives your ass a smack.

'Keep those pants on all night, okay baby? Taking those with me on the next trip.'

As you pull your dress back down you fake gag at him,

'Eddie Munson, you nasty little perv.'

He doesn't care, he loves it, he loves you.

He wraps his arm around you as he waddles with you towards the door to face Steve's wrath.

'Never used to be this way babe, it's you. You made me feral. Can't get enough.'

Once you exit the bathroom you're met with Steve standing with his arms crossed and an unamused look on his face. He does not care for how shameless and loved up the pair of you are right now considering he just caught you fucking like rabbits in his guest bathroom.

You shrug and bat your lashes at him,

'Sorry Stevie, we can't help it. We're in love.' You can feel Eddie's smile against your face. Steve shakes his head,

'Disgusting perverts, the pair of you. Ruining my bloody party... you belong together,' Steve says the last part with a knowing look to Eddie. Eddie's eyes widen, hoping you didn't catch on. To distract you, Steve shoos you along until you reach the stairs that stand at the edge of the living room where the gang are partying.

Pointing to them, Steve orders 'you're going to sit there on the bottom step. It's a time out. You're in horny jail. No party for you two until you think about what you've done'

Sniggering, you and Eddie take your seats on the stair. Steve pushes you two further apart as if you were about to have round two on the stairs in front of your friends. As he begins to walk of, he turns back around 'And... you're disinfecting that bathroom before you leave tomorrow.'

Like naughty kids, you and Eddie both salute and Steve who just huffs at your attitudes. 'Yes Papa Steve!' You both mockingly call after him.

After a moment Eddie reaches over to take your hand, your fingers intertwine and sit in the enforced space between you. One of Eddie's finger gently strokes back and forth over your ring finger.

You turn to him, taking in the face you've thought about all week, 'missed you so much Eds, never want to be without you again.'

He squeezes your hand, 'don't worry, you won't ever be.'

Bring your combined hands to your lips, you press a kiss to each of his knuckles. 'Oh... and Happy Halloween, Eddie.'

He smiles back at you 'happy Halloween baby girl...' he pauses and looks you up and down then smirks, 'and from now on, there will be no more costumes I've not checked beforehand. That should never have left our bedroom.'

[witchthewriter]

𝐊𝐲𝐥𝐞 '𝐆𝐚𝐳' 𝐆𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤

ISFP

Gryffindor

Chaotic Good

Gemini Sun, Virgo Moon, Cancer Rising

The fact that Kyle Garrick doesn't have as much popularity as some of the other characters in the Call of Duty world. is sinful. It's blasphemy.

Look, at first I was one of those people who didn't like Gaz as much as the rest of the Task Force, but now, NOW, I see him as such a valuable member. This is my formal apology to thy beautiful god of a man, Gaz.

And also a post so those that say, 'they don't know anything about Gaz so they cannot include him' - well here's your info babes!

"𝑳𝒆𝒕'𝒔 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒅𝒐𝒏𝒆, 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒉?" — 𝖪𝗒𝗅𝖾 𝖦𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖼𝗄

Alias(es)

Sabre 2-6

Bravo 0-5

Bravo 2-6

Bravo 6-2

Bravo 6-1

Gaz

Nationality: British

Rank: Sergeant Sergeant is a senior role of responsibility, promotion to which typically takes place after 12 years of service, depending on ability. Sergeants typically are second in command of a troop or platoon of up to 35 soldiers, with the important responsibility for advising and assisting junior officers.

Birth: 1993 However, he is older than Soap.

Hair: Black

Eyes: Brown

Kyle Garrick enlisted in the British Army in 2008, serving in the Duke of Lancaster's Regiment, spending four years participating in test flights, jump competition and marksmanship before passing selection for Her Majesty's elite Special Air Service (SAS), where he is currently serving as a Sergeant for his sixth year.

Tasked to Northern Ireland, Bosnia, Turkey, Iraq, Afghanistan, and Syria. Garrick has spent the better part of his career hunting terrorist fighters.

Kyle earned the U.S. Marine Corps Gold Parachute Wings at Marine Corps Base Camp Lejeune in North Carolina whilst on an exchange attachment and routinely cross-loads on operations with the SAS' American counterparts, the Navy SEALs.

Required to undergo resistance to interrogation (RTI) testing, Kyle was the only candidate in his class to escape the facility and evade capture.

Routinely subjected to physically and mentally uncomfortable scenarios, Kyle prides himself on high tolerance and tactical awareness.

Sergeant Garrick was awarded the Queen's Gallantry Medal and the General Service Medal for both covert and overt counter-terrorism operations in the Middle East, disrupting opium supply lines and poppy production, a major source of terrorist financing.

With expertise in prime target elimination, demolitions, weapons tactics, covert surveillance and VIP protection, Kyle currently serves on the SAS domestic counter-terror program, executing homefield missions with metropolitan police forces on European soil.

Challenging duty, due to civilian and collateral damage issues, Kyle seeks the opportunity to serve abroad again, and make a real difference combating the threat of terror.

Quotes

" Fuck off, shit pouch."

"It shouldn't have happened in the first place sir."

"They sent us in half assed, so everyone can just keep pretending we're not at war."

"I'm not dead, Nik. I'm hanging from a bloody rope!"

Personality

Very rarely does Kyle demand attention. He's observant problem-solving and bases his decisions on his instincts and values, and focuses on enjoying the present.

However, with the line of work he's in. Kyle has had to change the way he reacts to things. One really obvious scene between him and Cpt Price shows how this job is changing Kyle e.g,. Price’s quote about bloodying your hands after taking the gloves off.

Even so, I do think he's the most gentle of the four men, the kindest - almost like he's clung to his humanity with everything he's got.

sources: @mockerycrow. callofdutyfandom.com.

[shizucheese]

I'm going to use some discourse (?) I've been seeing on my feed as a bouncing-off point for some thoughts and theories I have as of TMAGP 8.

So like...I know a lot of people who are arguing about Gerry being goth vs. not goth in TMAGP are basing it off of the idea that he's happy.

"This Gerry isn't goth because he's happy and not traumatized!"

"You don't need to be traumatized to be goth, you can be happy and have lived a good life and still be goth!"

Um...guys? How often does it turn out that the most cheerful people are the ones hurting most?

Gerard Keaye is living with Gertrude Robinson and calling her "GG", and she's calling him her grandson.

Let me say that again:

Gerard Keay, descendent of Friend-of-Jonah Magnus (and finder of books that eventually were stolen by Jonah that may or may not have eventually became what we now know as Leitners) Albrect von Closen, lives with Gertrude Robinson, whose TMA counterpart was the head archivist of the Magnust Institute, and the Archivist, Avatar of the Eye. And calls her "GG." And she calls him her grandson.

Do you seriously believe for even a second that he was telling the truth about not having had much experience or remembering much about the Magnus Institute?

Do you honestly think for a second that those two are actually grandmother and grandson, even by adoption, and that this isn't just a cover? (Didn't they pull this same shit/ let people assume they were related in TMA, too?)

Like here I am smacking myself because I missed the very obvious fact that "there were no survivors"--in reference to the fire at the Magnus Institute--1) may not even be true for all we know (this is the fucking Magnus Institute, ffs), and 2) even if it is true, only means that nobody who was in the building at the time of the fire survived; it does not mean that everybody who worked for the Institute died.

So here's what I'm thinking: Gerry was absolutely part of the Gifted Kids program. Gertrude was an employee at the Institute. Maybe she was directly involved with the Gifted Kids program, or maybe she was Head Archivist again, but somehow had some involvement, even just tangentially, with the Gifted Kids program, or via some other circumstances ended up getting to know Gerry. Or maybe Gerry ending up with her was just pure dumb luck on his part.

Maybe she and Gerry survived the fire (maybe they were two of the very few, or were the only survivors?) And Gertrude took Gerry in after the fact.

Or maybe the Gifted Kids Program was like....exactly the kind of Bad News (tm) that I'm sure I'm not the only one thinking it was, and Gertrude had enough of a conscious that she grabbed Gerry and fucking ran, and so they weren't even there when the fire happened?

Or, wait, like....

What if the fire was a smokescreen to distract from her grabbing Gerry and running, or was to cover up any evidence of their existence or something so they could go into hiding?

What if Gerry isn't Gertrude's only "grandkid"?

The timeline absolutely does not line up for her to have been one of Gertrude's "grandkids," I'm acknowledging this here and now, because by 1999, when the fire happened, Agnes should have been in her 40's. But we also don't know how different the timeline is in the TMAGP universe or how long the Magnus Institute might have been running this "Gifted Kid Program", or what it involved, or what they would have considered "Gifted" in the context of what they were all about. So like...what if?

And if that's the case, who else might be Gertrude's "grandchildren" that we might recognize?

[tetsunabouquet]

House Of Anubis: How the OG Dutch/Belgium show was butchered in its adaptation by Nickelodeon Part 1: Mick & Fabian

Given ATLA and Percy Jackson have gotten butchered again, I have decided to finally open my mouth about my favorite children's tv show: Het Huis Anubis. I am making this in several parts, because god this show was done dirty by Nickelodeon- especially the English adaptation. Today, we will go over exhibit A, Mick and Fabian and how they as individuals were butchered and their bromance was scrapped - all due to Nickelodeon's homophobia because OG Fabian's actor, Lucien van Geffen, came out as a gay man after the show ended. 1. Let's start with the most obvious thing: the boys appearance. Fabian is way cuter and way less nerdy looking in the English adaptation. The dude became Prom King for crying out loud. In the OG, whilst Fabian was cute, he was so in an overtly nerdy way and the idea of him becoming Prom King at all would have been an obvious prank. Mick was the dumb jock, the pretty boy of the cast who got played by a model. As a bisexual, this was the show that would get me bi-panicking because of Mick and Nienke (Nina in the English adaptation). 2. The aforementioned stereotyping was actually part of what made the bromance work. Because stereotypes are easier to understand for younger children and their contrasting stereotypes were written in such a beautiful way as they saw each other's value. Because in the OG, Mick has a lot of things going for him and he has a heart of gold but he has a dream he cannot accomplish being the dumb pretty boy he is but Fabian can. Because in the OG, Mick has a blind younger sister that he would like to cure more then anything but knows he's too dumb for medicine school unlike Fabian. He also knows Fabian is more courageous then he is and sees him as someone with lots of valuable traits whereas Fabian values Mick's loyalty and good, friendly nature as one of the show's primary himbo's. Their stereotypes allowed kids to understand each stereotype came with valuable traits. It's okay if you're a nerd or a jock. 3. MICK NEVER LEFT. Mick always remained the ignorant himbo walking around the house as his friends were busy dealing with cults. He was the breath of fresh air that brought normalcy throughout the show with his romance drama. Though he was ignorant of what they were doing, it's not like Mick was 100% oblivious throughout the entire show. For crying out loud Fabian had to fake his death at one point, with no one knowing he was still alive. Who was the one Fabian went to so he could say he was still alive? Mick. Really, a secret handshake is in no way on the same level as only telling your best friend you are still alive. 4. Which brings me to another character that never left: Nienke! Unlike her English counterpart Nina, Nienke remained as the leader of the Sibuna gang throughout the show with Fabian being the healthy kind of boyfriend who never felt like he had to take leadership away from her or anything. I swear in regards to Fabian in the English adaptation, they tried to hard to make a more alpha male version of Fabian. He's hotter, he gets more girls, he gets to be the leader and more. There is literal evidence they had toxic masculinity in mind: its Fabian falling to the sin of Pride in the show. Whilst the English adaptation was only faithful to the first season, the 7 deadly sins do show up in the first Anubis movie where Nienke is kidnapped by the antagonist. OG Fabian is literally the first person to win from all 7 deadly sins with the sin he ALMOST succumbs to being wrath as his friends and Nienke were about to die. Fabian was the virtuous knight in that movie and they actively made him more prideful in the English adaptation. Why would they change his relationship with Nienke and things like this, if it wasn't to make Fabian seem more masculine and whatnot because Lucien being gay emasculates Fabian in the eyes of Nickelodeon. For fuck's sake, Lucien was literally chosing to stay in the closet during the show because the ship was HUGE. He didn't wanted to break all of the little children's hearts by saying he was gay. Lucien was gracious 100%!

[still-a-morosexual-help]

Another go at,

"This was originally a reply to something someone said on one of my posts but I liked it so much it spawned into it's own thing, so I deleted the original reply and here we are"

og post, reply to @emmys-grimoire :

Oh, I absolutely don't think there's going to be a war arc and I've said so in a previous post - that's (at the end of the day) NOT the kind of game OM! is

When I say the War is "inevitable" I mean it in the context of the characters who are "living through" this situation, not in the context of us, the readers, from our outside perspective.

Characters like Solomon, Michael and even MC have expressed that they think this will all crash down into another war.

In other words, while characters in the game may see it as an inevitability, the people reading it who have outside knowledge about everything going on, knows that's complete bullshit

and both the original post and this are definitely NOT meant to be a bad faith reading of Michael either

I think he's a morally grey character, in that he's done equally good and bad things, but ultimately, even the bad things are done for the greater good

Furthermore:

• Luke obviously cares about him

• Mammon says that he probably sent Luke to the human world in the og timeline, so that Luke can move past his narrow minded view of demons

• He clearly still cares for Lucifer and even the others

• Even after he turns Simeon human, Simeon still has faith in him and says that even when others can't understand why he does something he usually does it because he has a plan/for the greater good

• Despite initially thinking MC was "wicked" and also complaining about MC the last time, he still helps them even when he doesn't need to

• I also see Michael as being a pretty obvious counterpart to Diavolo, from the jovial almost childish excitement/personality to the ulterior motives to the long-suffering attendant trying to reign him in

1.) That being said, you can't deny that the racism between The Celestial Realm and The Devildom is a pretty big thing (literally one of the biggest parts of the plot is about trying to move past that).

We've seen it from both sides, and it's definitely something they all have to unlearn

We saw what Lucifer was like as an angel, how he treated the Devildom and Diavolo, and how even over the course of the glory days devilgram, by interacting with Diavolo he started unlearning some of those prejudices

Og timeline Michael has clearly already gone through this process, as he is actively encouraging Luke to go through it as well

Nightbringer timeline Michael has not. We see it in how desperately he tries to get Luke & Simeon back home and obviously because this is his first time in the Devildom and, presumably, his first time interacting with demons in a friendly/neutral context

When you have prejudices like this you never know it's something that's bad or untrue (and om shows this as well) until they start getting challenged. RAD is the perfect opportunity for this to happen to Michael

And he really isn't going to see it coming until he's already started to change

2.) When Michael says "balance" he's saying that he wants the brothers back in the Celestial Realm to restore balance. Because with them acting as leaders in the Devildom, it makes the Devildom stronger than the Celestial Realm.

I'm not saying he wants to start a war, or to subjugate anyone, he very much wants there to be peace/or at least no fighting.

But he also wants that to be by the Celestial Realm and Devildom being at an equal power level again aka the brothers going back

He also straight up says he wants MC to tell them to come back because without balance the war could start up again (specially because he said the celestial realm would then consider the devildom as a hostile party again) and the human world would get destroyed.

Like you said, he's most probably right that the human world will get destroyed in the case of a war but what he said to MC is still very much a threat.

He says, "do this for me because if not the actions my realm has promised to take will lead to your world being destroyed"

You could say that he does not truly mean it when he says he'll consider the Celestial Realm a hostile party again should the brothers not return BUT even if that were true

that is not a statement you can just lightly say, specially not to the people you have just come out of a war with, specially not to the leader of those people when you're acting as a political representative of your people

That is also very much a threat

3.) About how angels vs demons see humans,

Solomon said they both saw humans as something to be protected, while angels still kept away from humans and demons still ate them, but that they also didn't see humans as their equals

And I basically made a long post about how,

Angels probably saw humans; the way we see endangered animals, that must be loved and protected but not interacted with

While demons saw humans; the way we see domenstic, farm animals that can be loved and protected but also taken for food

Since humans are obviously sentient and intelligent beings (eh...) neither of these two views are good

4.) Personally the way I see it:

Michael, like Solomon and Lucifer, is a complex character, who has done bad/shady things for what they believe is the greater good

To get the full effect of him (and others like him...and really any of them) as a character:

You can't colour them only in shades of black and white

The same way you can't say that Michael is a character who has done only ""evil"" things you also can't turn a blind eye to the implications and consequences of what he has said and done

5.) He's done good things, he's done shitty things - the thing he did lately, about demanding the brothers come home and leveraging the continuned peace between the two realms, only a year after they left, after their sister was killed by the angels, after their sister was threatened with being banished for loving/helping a human was a shitty thing (in my perspective)

And, unlike og timeline Michael, nightbringer timeline Michael probably still has a lot of growing to do

And so the original post came frome a place of:

"Haha he's going to be hit by the same fucking train that got Lucifer and Luke and he's going to be just as bamboozled by it"

Overall, Michael's a character I'm very excited to meet (let him have long hair pls solmare you have no idea how much this means to me), I don't dislike him and (like with all my posts) every point I bring up as evidence and every point I use to build up a theory is picked up straight from canon (because I'm too lazy to come up with my own shit🫠), I genuinely like every character in om (yes even Mephisto despite clowning on him at any given opportunity) and so try to be objective when forming theories about them or trying to discern their thought processes and actions (and I'm not always successful because mammon exists and I'm an idiot🤡)

[tamelee]

Hello Tamelee, I wanted to ask you if you agree with some popular claims in the Naruto (-Shippuden) fandom about Kishimoto and his writing. If you could give your opinion on the claims I would be very happy ☺️ Sorry for my English by the way, it is not my mother tongue.

1) Claim: Kishimoto does not know how to write woman.

2) Claim: Kishimoto does not know how to write romance.

3) Claim: Kishimoto wrote NaruSasuNaru on an accident. He did not meant to write them as gays.

4) Claim: Kishimoto forgets characters (Neji, Hinata and Sakura etc.). The story focuses to much on the relationship Naruto and Sasuke.

5) Claim: Kishimoto sucks writing Sakura like Sakura character is bad writing.

6) Claim: Kishimoto is an homophobe.

I think I did not forgot other claims. So far that is everything. Thank you for being so nice and talented. I love your Art. 💕

Warning; unpopular opinions ahead/me not agreeing:

Hello Nonee 💕 Okay let’s see! 

“1) Claim: Kishimoto does not know how to write woman. 5) Claim: Kishimoto sucks writing Sakura like Sakura character is bad writing.”

Ah yes. With these often there’s also “Kishimoto is a misogynist” and the “missed potential of the female characters”. 

It’s a broad and complicated topic tbh (or you could make it as complicated as you want..) because people bring in a lot of real life/political baggage into the conversation about this (unnecessarily imo)- largely surrounding Sakura and Hinata.

I only partly agree because most of Kishimoto’s female characters aren’t great compared to their male counterparts. But, from little snippets of his interviews it is very obvious that he always enjoyed writing through male-characters as were all his stories incl the rejected ones and I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that especially when we look at the targeted audience. That’s all. That is enough reason.. and it hasn’t so much to do with him not being able to, because there are female characters that are fine. 

Kishimoto could’ve developed some of them better.. but didn’t. I don't believe that is because of a lack of skill.

Sakura’s (and even Hinata’s) lack of development (= development which the fans wanted to see) had purpose and they were largely cast aside and underdeveloped (with purpose!!!) in order to show (contrast/)something else as well; the bond/love between Naruto and Sasuke. 

I don’t think there’s anything wrong with Saori (Mario), Tsunade, Ino, Temari, Konan or Kushina even. What do you expect more from Shonen? I would’ve loved to see more background about some of them, but story-wise it wouldn’t have been necessary. If he was going to flesh out any of the other characters (like many wanted from Tenten) it should’ve been with purpose, it would’ve had meaning.. Otherwise you’d just be thinking to yourself “why did I just read/watch this? Why exactly did Kishimoto want to show this thing about this character and why does it matter to the story? Is there a parallel, or could this be foreshadowing?”

So.. he didn’t and to me that makes sense. This story is about Naruto and despite him being the mc- it is also about Sasuke and their journeys about becoming great Ninja. Not “pinkyflinky and her selfish love for her cool-looking classmate.” 

It is great to want to find good female representation in media, as a female myself I find that to be quite the struggle.. especially nowadays -.- (all protagonists are wannabe annoying-ass girl-bosses whom are shown to be assholes for the sake of... feminism?? lately.. Idk but ugh!!) however I don’t expect to find great representation or empowerment for myself in a story like ‘Naruto’... never have. Criticizing ‘Naruto’ about something for which it had no intentions of in the first place makes no sense to me. Instead, the characters from Naruto whom are fleshed out and developed well (and there are many) inspired me too regardless of gender and I don’t see the point in looking through a gender-lens within my entertainment if it's not necessary. (I don't know why it would be tbh.) It is not like I can only see myself or get absorbed in a story through a girl/female-character. Kishimoto even made Sasuke the Heroin of the story much like Saori (the female-lead) was from his earlier story ‘Mario’ whom Sasuke resembled a lot. But make Sasuke into an actual female character in ‘Naruto’ and then the story, in the way it was written, would’ve made no sense. Or rather their actions. (The story would’ve been different then.) People wouldn’t have accepted it because then it’s suddenly obvious to the general audience who the love interest for Naruto is... -.- Insert; confusion. Then, if we accept ‘Naruto’ as a piece of gay-media... then why look for female-representation here and aren’t the characters fine as they are when you take that into consideration?

Besides, why can’t female characters have flaws and why is it always “bad writing” if someone doesn’t agree with the behavior of said character? Why can’t they just accept that some female characters are just not that great or that some of the characters don't have positive arcs for the sake of something else? 

Anyway, I don’t agree with the reasons people give for them being “so bad”. If we take Sakura for example, I see many people say she “deserved better” simply because she’s “the female lead” but this story was never about Sakura who’s character goal had been shallow from the start. Could a large portion of that have been fixed if Kishimoto gave her something else to fight for? Sure. But I rarely see them talk about her character-foundation and more so about getting “what she deserves” even though she practically did 2% in order to “deserve” (sorry I don’t like that word)- anything. So it mostly stems from her being female? And that only would’ve given her the privilege of actually surpassing Tsunade? (As Naruto and Sasuke also surpassed their masters when she didn't.) Or become Hokage even as some of her fans want her to be? But can you really (and be honest now) even compare Naruto and Sasuke’s journeys, efforts and development to.. Sakura's? Absolutely not. For which they agree because otherwise they wouldn't complain about a lack of development, so we have a contradiction here. What does Sakura know about running an entire village? Or the village in general? Nothing. What has she done in regard to Sasuke that wasn’t excruciatingly selfish? (Or Hinata in regard to Naruto also) Again, nothing. She didn’t even bother to find out anything about the thing she supposedly cares about; Sasuke who literally stood in front of her shouting out his pain about his clan, his brother and the village. Why would Sakura care about anyone other than herself or her version of Sasuke when she was willing to abandon her family and friends regardless of her teammates pain surrounding solitude to then say “she’d just be as lonely as Sasuke” who’s entire clan/family was murdered? She, who in the end pretty much stayed the same but gained physical strength which her fans can only acknowledge through the validation of male characters? I mean 👀.. (and yes she did have some good moments, but not even her own fans acknowledge these and instead try to hype up the bad ones. Even then they need validation from Sasuke, much like Sakura does, its weird to me.) 

Jun Esaka tried to “fix” Sakura in ‘Sasuke Retsuden’ as her number one fan... but did so horribly. (Yes, I read it) In order to lift Sakura up she wrote “handsome-looking-like-a-cat-Sasuke” (her words not mine) to be a wet fry on the side of a pool living life miserably and racked with guilt for the sake of his oh-so-amazing-sexy-and-good-with-anything-“wife” whom everyone in her story loves/desires, which makes Sasuke into this super jealous “husband” who suddenly couldn’t do anything anymore without her help and made OOC mistakes every page of that dumb novel... 👀 I’ll take Kishimoto’s Sakura over that bs any day. And yet her fans love to see Sakura “shine” like “she deserves” and criticize Kishimoto for not having made her similar to their headcanons in his Manga.. 

That’s all it is. Headcanon. 

Idc, I could go on and on about it, but I’ll leave it here. 

“2) Claim: Kishimoto does not know how to write romance.”

He can and did so several times. Just because some people aren’t happy with their underdeveloped “canon-couples" doesn’t mean that Kishimoto can’t write it as he has shown already that he can with others. Couples which are accepted by everyone as them having a romantic bond (now why would they only complain for Sakura/Hinata's sake I wonder?). Besides, ‘Naruto’ is one great lovestory if you’re willing to accept it. The Minato-Manga was a big “fuck-you” to those claims, Dan and Tsunade were great and he only needed a single page/a few panels to establish the romantic purpose between Yahiko and Konan. Even before ‘Naruto’ he wrote ‘Mario’ also. Etc-

So, false. 

“3) Claim: Kishimoto wrote NaruSasuNaru on an accident. He did not meant to write them as gays.” 

This is some bs. This man did not sit down for 15+ years, hunched over a desk with his mind swimming about this story, Naruto and Sasuke only for anything to be “accidental”. Come on now. Whether someone else accepts their love as being gay is something else- but nothing is accidental. There is way too much time, effort and thought that went into it for anyone to make such a disrespectful claim. Besides, it is not for nothing that Kishimoto had to fight his own editorial team in order to make some things happen. He literally had to fight for years to be able to draw some of the gayest panels. So? What does that tell ya? 

Well.. that nothing is accidental. With this also comes the bs-claim that Kishimoto apparently wouldn't even know what gays are which is laughable- don't let me start.

“4) Claim: Kishimoto forgets characters (Neji, Hinata and Sakura etc.). The story focuses to much on the relationship Naruto and Sasuke.”

The story is literally about Naruto, Sasuke and their bond. Their external goals (plot) by itself isn’t nearly as relevant as their internal needs and struggles which Kishimoto was perfectly able to steer the story (plot) with. That's the number 1 reason why it is a good story. It has nothing to do with “forgetting”. (Also why are Neji, Hinata and Sakura in the same sentence in regard to this?)

“6) Claim: Kishimoto is an homophobe.”

Sorry, I have no idea what this is about or where this comes from. 

__ Ah I know you didn't make those claims, in case it sounds like that 😅! I'm just talking in general about the claims- Anyway, thankyou so much for liking my art!! 💕 Hope you have a nice day 🌷

[chip-potato]

Hey, so I think I figured out why the Gaster Followers are the way that they are, and also why nobody seems to talk about Gaster himself, despite his very apparent importance in the Underground society's history. The Followers are, literally, being hurt and consumed by bad memories. (tw: suicide mention) Monsters' bodies are made of magic, and as such, they work differently than human bodies do, which is evident especially with the concept of Falling Down, described by Alphys in the True Lab logs as a monster, after losing all hope, falls to the ground in a comatose state and seemingly has no way of reawakening or doing anything except for eventually dying. Hope, or rather the absence of it, plays a key role in this interaction. From this, we can gather that how a monster feels can have a tangible impact on their physical health. It stands to reason, then, that witnessing a traumatic event can cause a similar kind of damage to a monster's psyche, and therefore their bodies. Not only that, but turning our attention back to the True Lab, we can encounter amalgamates called “Memoryheads”--

-- which, if you interact with them in a specific way, can fill our inventories with an item called the "Bad Memory". These bad memories cannot be thrown away, and if you try to use one, you take a little damage. But that's just what happens to Frisk, a human. What happens if a monster were to be given a bad memory? The game, according to my theory at least, gives us the answer to that question in the form of the three Gaster Followers you can randomly encounter around Hotland. Yes, followers plural. It is my personal belief that all three of them have pieces of Gaster. Or, perhaps it’s more accurate to say that the pieces... have them? Deltarune finally gave us a look at what Follower 3′s normal self looks like, and due to the fact that everyone in Deltarune doesn’t change that much physically from their Undertale counterparts, we can (in my opinion) safely make comparisons between every Follower and their more colorful selves.

To be frank, it’s... a little concerning, because looking at it all at once, it’s quite obvious what’s happening to these monsters. They’re holding onto Bad Memories, which are apparently in the process of consuming them. Follower 2′s hand has been replaced or melded with one piece, the borders around 1′s eyes and mouth seem to suggest (at least to me?) that it’s practically being WORN, like some kind of bodysuit. 

And, of course, 3... good lord, look at Follower 3. Knowing what’s meant to be what in this sprite now makes it appear that 3′s body has Fallen Down, but the memory might be able to keep it upright and sort of... puppet it around? It’s almost like a burlap sack was thrown over the guy, honestly. Possibly while it was frozen in the second frame of its animation, as you can tell from its beak and wing shapes matching up with the “jaw” of their Follower/Undertale version. Follower 2, though, is especially interesting due to the fact that his piece seems to bear the most resemblance to an attack the Memoryheads are known for doing:

In any case, the trend is clear: holding onto Bad Memories (or in other words... trauma) literally eats monsters up. You can tell it’s eating them up in the metaphorical sense, too. Vague as they are, all of their dialogue revolves around Gaster, and as a matter of fact it’s basically the only confirmed sources of information on this character that we have. It’s all they know, too. Due to its importance to my theory, here is a comprehensive list of everything directly told to us by the three Followers: 1 - Doctor W.D. Gaster was the Royal Scientist preceding Alphys. 2 - Gaster’s brilliance is described as “irreplaceable.” This is corroborated by another Follower, calling Gaster an “act to follow.”  3 - Gaster created the CORE. 4 - Gaster, at some point, “vanished without a trace.” 5 - There was a rumor that “(Gaster) shattered across time and space.” I specify that it seems to be a rumor due to this being prefaced with “they say,” a common way to simply say that something you heard is a rumor being passed around. 6 - This same follower, #2, is able to say this “without fear,” due to possessing a piece of Gaster themselves. 7 - At some point, Gaster’s “experiments went wrong”. 8 - Gaster’s life was “cut short”. This wording of “cut short” is shared across two of the followers, and given Undertale’s style of writing, it’s likely significant in some fashion. 9 - Gaster “fell into his own creation.” 10 - Asgore “waited so long” to hire a new Royal Scientist. 11 - Asgore "took so long” to hire a new Royal Scientist, which seems to imply something different to the “waited so long” anecdote from another follower. “Took so long” implies a process that took a lengthy amount of time. “Waited so long” implies, well, waiting a long time before beginning the process. 12 - Alphys “works faster” than he did, most likely meaning that her output in terms of experimentation results and inventions were faster. 13 - There is speculation that Alphys will “end up the same way”. 14 - Despite everything else said about Gaster, Follower 3 refrains from elaborating on the experiments going wrong, claiming that “... it’s rude to talk about someone who’s listening.” Potential conclusions to draw: - (3 + 9) Gaster fell into the CORE. - (10 + 11) Due to Asgore seemingly dragging his feet, there was a long stretch of time where there was absolutely no Royal Scientist. - (2 + 12) Gaster was, seemingly, quite the perfectionist. - (3 + 12) Alphys was the creator of everything hi-tech seen in Undertale, with the exception of the CORE. - (7 + 13) Gaster and Alphys, perhaps, experienced similar situations of their experiments going wrong during their respective tenures.

Now, a lot of this is important, but I want to draw attention to the things concerning comparisons to Alphys, and Gaster’s experiments going wrong. Alphys, as I’m sure many of you know, is depressed. She is depressed due to her feelings of failure regarding the Amalgamates, an experiment into Determination that went wrong, in the True Lab... and she fights back against that regret by watching anime and blogging about her bad opinions online. It’s not exactly a healthy coping mechanism, but at least it’s... something. Something that Gaster, presumably, did not have. Now, let’s look back at Gaster’s Entry Number 17: “ENTRY NUMBER SEVENTEEN DARK DARKER YET DARKER THE DARKNESS KEEPS GROWING THE SHADOWS CUTTING DEEPER THIS NEXT EXPERIMENT SEEMS VERY VERY INTERESTING ... WHAT DO YOU TWO THINK?” Due to Deltarune's frequent allusions and ties to this piece of dialogue (and the noise being emitted in the room it’s found in), we now know, more or less, what was happening here: Gaster was witnessing the creation of a Dark Fountain, hinted at by the present tense of the words like “GROWING” and “CUTTING”. Due to Fountains requiring Determination to open, however, it is unlikely that he would be able to open one himself and survive, so it is likely that he enlisted the help of... someone. Possibly one of the “you two” mentioned at the end, or perhaps even a third party. Due to the fact that Gaster is a historical figure of sorts, this narrows down who this Fountain-puller could be by... a lot, actually. There’s only one real candidate, I’d argue.

But that’s a theory for another time, I think. Getting back on track, it would seem that, either soon after this Entry or at a later point, something went wrong with these Dark World experiments. Gaster presumably thought that things went wrong to such an extent that he would be unable to face the consequences of his actions, for whatever reason, leading to him “falling into his own creation”. Due to the parallels between him and Alphys made by the Followers themselves, and assuming this to be accurate information, it is very likely that Gaster was attempting to take his own life. However, that did not happen. Instead, while his life was indeed “cut short”, pieces of him scattered across time and space. Some, ending up in the hands of monsters who would later come to obsess over him and his legacy. Consider the broader context of this, for a moment: this sort of news would likely come as a deep emotional cut to a populace of monsters stuck in a cave with seemingly no way to break the barrier preventing them from leaving. Monsters that, mind you, go into a coma and eventually die if they lose hope. How could Asgore go about explaining to everyone that Dr. Gaster, one of the most brilliant minds monsterkind has ever known, was just... gone? It’s simple: he couldn’t. No formal announcement could possibly be made that wouldn’t result in bodies dropping like stones. We are talking potentially pounds of dust littering the streets. So, my theory-within-a-theory here, is that Asgore allowed news of Gaster’s fate to pass from one person to another in the forms of vague rumors. Once he felt confident in it being spread enough, he began to hold auditions for a new Royal Scientist, to complete the cover-up. The reason why nobody (aside from the Followers Three) talks about Gaster is because, due to the way monster bodies interact with their feelings, it quite literally hurts to talk or even think about him. Additionally, anyone who does think about Gaster for too long, starts to be consumed by those thoughts. The same Bad Thoughts that the Memoryheads give you. It's not any sort of memory wiping/timeline shenanigans, or at least not in the way people may think at first glance. It’s just... simple monster biology.