Tumgik
#I KNOW CALAMARI IS FROM SQUID
loz-the-noob · 8 months
Text
Tumblr media
squisters…….squignatures……….. ;-;
38 notes · View notes
Text
Ain’t nobody gonna see this but I have theory of the Calamari Inkantation. Splatoon 3 Spoilers.
Okay so I was listening to Wave Goodbye, the Splatoon 3 Credits Song, over and over like a normal person, when at some point I realized when they get to the portion that starts the Calamari Inkantation lyrics, there are non-filtered voices singing. Humans Voices. (Pictured is around the point where that section starts)
Tumblr media
Then I thought to myself: What if the Calamari Inkantation originated as a song humans made on Alterna? A song to help them continue despite their world falling around them. Then I started looking into the logs and reflecting on past events with the song and..
Let’s just say Sunken Scroll #23 from Splatoon 1 saying: “Nowadays, this song and dance may as well be carved into the very DNA of all Inklings.” ..might be a tiny bit more literal than expected. Let’s take a look at what we know.
The Calamari Inkantation is a literal incantation. Series of words, or a song in this case, that causes magical effects. It has, in many cases, been known to give strength, physical or otherwise, to those who have been in audible range of it. Ex. Giving Cuttlefish the strength to break out of his restraints and Smallfry to temporarily evolve(?) into Hugefry.
With that said, I believe the “Calamari” part could be from the place it was “founded” in and taken on as a traditional song for. Calamari Country. Which is where Callie and Marie come from. Perhaps the Inklings of the area long ago found the sheet music.
Moving on, the part of this that helps this theory’s case is Alterna Log005: Fresh Intelligence Awakens.
Tumblr media
After the liquid crystals that retained decades of humanity’s wishes was absorbed by the squids, octopuses, and other sea creatures that inhabited Alterna’s waters.. it imbued them with fresh impulses that “bore a striking resembling to humanity’s passive desire to return to the Earth’s surface”.
Interesting. The desire to return to the surface was slowly fused into their DNA. You may be thinking “But what does this have to do with the Inkantation?” And that’s exactly where I’m going with this.
So if we are to think.. the Calamari Inkantation was made by the humans on Alterna, perhaps filled lyrically with their wishes.. and the sea creatures absorbed the desire and wishes of humanity to return to the surface through the liquid crystals.. and the Calamari Inkantation gives sea creatures the literal strength to move forward..
Tumblr media
And the INKADIA-BORN OCTOLINGS, who were SUFFERING in poor conditions UNDERGROUND in DOMES heard the CALAMARI INKANTATION and suddenly their “SOULS WERE FREED” and THE DESIRE TO RETURN TO THE SURFACE AND THRIVE WAS EVOKED INTO THEM AGAIN?
AFTER YEARS OF LIVING A HARD MILITARISTIC-STYLE LIFE WITH BEING INDUCTED INTO THE ARMY AT A YOUNG AGE, THEY FOUND THE STRENGTH TO LEAVE THEIR ENTIRE OLD LIFE BEHIND? TO RISK IT ALL. EVEN THEIR OWN LIFE. TO JOIN WHAT THEY WERE PRESUMED TO BE THEIR WORST ENEMIES ON THE SURFACE IN HARMONY?
After thinking about all this and rewatching the Octo Expansion Surface Cutscene (from that last GIF), I nearly wanted to CRY. They had never seen the real sky before, the real SUN before. They made it. Not only the Octolings but humanity’s final wishes made it too.
That’s my theory. Perhaps I’m wrong but either way I would love to see what people think. Thanks for reading.
Oh and also, since it named the “Inkantation” that means someone knew of its power... This just in, did the Inklings cheat in the Great Turf War?
But that’s for another day lol
4K notes · View notes
are-you-judd-enough · 3 months
Text
Splatify Wrapped
Spotify Wrapped, but it's just your top 5 songs from the Splatoon soundtracks.
Surge and Submerge - ω-3
Pour it on - Missing Ink
Til Depth do we Part - Deep Cut
Now or Never - Wet Floor
Calamari Inkantation - Squid Sisters
Honourable mention to Seep and Destroy - Octoplush you know you're in for a mission when it plays.
Tumblr media
And cos i don't trot it out enough, see this Album cover I commissioned for the CD Single of Til Depth Do Us Part by Sploosh_al
333 notes · View notes
6lostgirl6 · 10 months
Text
Ties That Bind Part 1
Pairing: Yandere!Anakin Skywalker x Fem Jedi!Reader
TW: General Yandere Behavior, Kidnapping, Mentions of Murder
A/N: I am very excited to be sharing another wonderful collab with the amazing person @britany1997! She has been very supportive and an absolute joy to work with! We have shared many laughs together while working on this fic! She is a very talented writer and friend and you should send her your love! She deserves it! I love you Britany! ❤️
Word Count: 2.3k
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Sweat pooled around Anakin as he sprang forward in bed, gasping in a haze of fear and anger. His head fell to his hands as he struggled to catch his breath.
Sleep had eluded him for months as every night ended the same, with visions of your corpse flashing through his tortured mind. 
Anakin discarded his blanket in frustration, grabbed your picture from his work bench, and sat on the floor to meditate. 
His brow furrowed as he attempted to squash his rage and uncertainty, to let them go and let the force fill him with the comfort he needed. 
But to let go of his emotion, would be to let go of you.
Though he mumbled to himself, ‘there is no emotion, there is peace, there is no passion, there is serenity,’ he couldn’t make himself believe that. You were his peace, you were his serenity.
He abandoned his meditation in a huff. Anakin liked to think he was a patient man, a good Jedi. Yet how could he sit back and do nothing? The visions would never stop, it was time to take matters into his own hands.
Despite his failures at meditating and stopping his mind from whirling, he was struck by a solution. He was deep in concentration, staring at the ground, your picture nestled against his uncovered chest.
The visions would undoubtedly stop if he could protect you and keep you safe from harm. What if the force hadn't been working against him after all? He was immediately filled with purpose, a fire in his eyes that couldn't ever be extinguished. He will defend you even if it means doing the unthinkable and abandoning the Jedi code. 
What other reason would there be besides protecting the one you loved the most, even if it required being selfish? Absolutely nothing was of greater significance than you, his long-time friend, whom he had been pining over for many years. The forbidden feelings he could no longer ignore. There was no greater reason, no other reason, than you. 
It was all for love. 
Tumblr media
Despite the summons from the Chancellor, Anakin thought the Galaxies Opera House was well worth the journey through Coruscant. Though the visions of your impending death haunted him, Squid Lake, a strange ballet performed by a team of Mon Calamari acrobats, calmed his worries and enabled his mind to focus on something far more pleasant. He wished he could take you to one as lovers rather than as companions one day once you are away from harm. The Chancellor, however, required his attention once more.
His eyes were focused ahead as he said, "The Sith and the Jedi are similar in almost every way, including their quest for greater power." The Chancellor’s face bore a deep and serious expression.
“The Sith rely on their passion for their strength; they think inwards, only about themselves.” Anakin answered back firmly, turning his head towards him as he spoke.
“And the Jedi don’t?” asked the Chancellor, turning his attention towards Anakin without wavering, his eyes never leaving his face.
“The Jedi are selfless, they only care about others.” Anakin spoke strongly, turning his attention forward, just before the Chancellor continued to speak, making Anakin's blood run cold.
“Although they prevent you from loving freely in accordance with your own desires. They would never approve of your love for your friend or the things you would do for her.” He spoke with a voice filled with stomach-churning truth. “Your companion, (Y/N).”
Anakin turned to face the older man, his eyes wide with surprise as he whispered quietly. "How did you know-"
"I know many things, Anakin." He responded. "You say they are selfless and care about others. But what would the council say if they learned of your hidden desires, your affection that you have for your fellow Jedi?" 
For once, Anakin couldn't speak because the Chancellor's words struck him deeply. His eyes were fixed on the opera playing ahead of him as he slowly sunk into his chair. He wasn't watching the event, though; instead, he was fixated on his thoughts, his visions of your approaching demise, and the possibility that the council would learn of his feelings for you. They'd shun him. He couldn't save you if they were in the way. His heart was pounding, and his mind was racing. 
It was the Chancellor's voice that silenced his racing thoughts. 
“You ever hear the tragedy of Darth Plagueis the wise?” 
No, he would not let them stop him from loving you, from saving you.
Tumblr media
Your saber clashed against Anakin’s as you traded swipes back and forth. He smirked as you narrowly missed his shoulder. You stuck out your tongue in reply.
It’d probably be easier to spar with someone else, you and Anakin had trained together as Padawans, practically grown up together. He knew every move you’d make before you could even think to make it. But, unfortunately for him, you could anticipate his every move as well.
You leaped as he swiped his saber at your feet, “missed again Ani,” you teased. You noticed a strange expression cross his face when you uttered his name, but it quickly vanished.
“You’re lucky today,” he smirked, “but luck runs out.” Anakin swiped his foot behind yours, causing you to tumble onto your back, he stood over you, lightsaber pointed towards your chest. 
You groaned, “fine, I yield.”
He chuckled as he switched his weapon off and offered you his arm to pull you to your feet. “Better luck next time?” he teased. 
“Ha ha,” you mumbled humorlessly, as you allowed him to pull you up.
"Let's not pretend you didn't cheat, Ani." You continued jokingly. You leaned over to grab your fallen lightsaber when you failed to notice the unknown expression resurfacing on his face. However, it did not completely disappear, his darkening eyes fixated on your body, images racing through his mind of scenarios unsuitable for a Jedi.
He adored it when you addressed him as such. 
His expression returned to normal as you straightened up, and he had a mischievous smile on his face once again. "Never, ever underestimate your opponent." He chuckled as he extinguished his lightsaber and attached the hilt to his belt.
“Yeah, Yeah.” You replied, the smile refusing to vanish from your expression. 
"Come now; I only tease." Anakin remarked softly, staring at you with a more genuine smile, one that could compete with the sun if he so desired. Since you were both padawans, he has consistently been an enchanting man. He had a way of charming himself out of most trouble and making one's heart feel like it was going to burst.
This was a secret you kept hidden within your heart for many years, the sentiments you had for Anakin that were more than just friendship. However, according to the Jedi code and attachment regulations, you did everything you could to drive those emotions away. Your feelings got less difficult to disguise as you practiced meditation and late-night self-reflection. In addition, you knew in your core that Anakin was an exceptionally gifted Jedi and that your affections for him were never going to be reciprocated. 
“Everything alright?” 
You recovered from your subconscious, glancing at Anakin as he stood directly in front of you, his eyebrows furrowed in slight concern. 
"Yes, I'm sorry." You replied before reactivating your lightsaber, your eyes bright with purpose and your smile returning. "Let's continue."
After many long hours of trading blows, you and Anakin were huffing, your foreheads drenched with sweat. 
“Call it a night?” you asked as Anakin wiped his brow clean. 
“Mhmm,” he hummed in reply, “it’s late, want an escort back to your quarters?”
You laughed. He didn’t. 
“No Ani it’s fine,” you promised, “I think I can manage the couple of steps it takes to get there.”
“It’s on my way anyway,” he protested.
You shot him a confused expression, “on your way to where?” 
“To the archives,” he told you nonchalantly, “I needed to look into something.”
Your brow furrowed, “look into what?”
He groaned, tugging gently at your arm, “just let me escort you.”
“Fine, fine,” you reluctantly caved.
He offered you his shoulder, a smirk painted on his face. You scoffed and punched his arm instead, causing a soft laugh to fall from his lips. 
He smiled and shook his head at your stubbornness, you never made anything easy. But it didn’t matter, he’d never been one to back down from a challenge.
The walk to your quarters passed quickly as you exchanged stories with Anakin. You clutched your stomach as tears rolled down your cheeks as he told you the story of his last battle with General Grevious. Anakin had spent so much time with Obi Wan over the years, Anakin’s impression of his sarcastic banter was spot on.
“Well this is me,” you joked, gesturing to your door. Anakin nodded but didn’t move to head towards the archives. 
Your brow furrowed in confusion, “…so I’ll see you tomorrow?” 
He seemed to snap from his momentary trance, “yes of course,” Anakin hesitated, “do you need anything else before I go?”
Your head cocked to one side, “no, not really.” 
Walking you to your room had been strange in itself, this was ridiculous. “Ani…” you bit your lip, “are you ok?”
Anakin seemed taken aback by your sudden question, “of course,” he composed himself, “I better be off to the archives, I’ll see you for training in the morning.”
You watched him walk off before slipping into your room. You sat down to meditate, but you couldn’t rid your mind of Anakin’s weird behavior. Something wasn’t right. 
You sighed, coming to terms with the fact that you would not be one with the force tonight and crawling into bed. As you drifted to sleep a thought popped into your head.
Weren’t the archives in the opposite direction?
Tumblr media
Anakin sent a glass flying into his wall in frustration. He watched as it shattered, spraying shards onto the floor around his work desk. 
He threw his head into his hands. He could monopolize your training time, walk you to your quarters every night, wake up early to be at your door every morning.
But it would only take one second, one second where he left you alone, one second where he wasn’t right by your side, one second and you were gone forever. 
If he balled his fists any harder, his fingernails would slice the skin. He knew what he had to do. You might hate him for a moment, but he could live with that.
But if you died? There was no living if not with you.
Tumblr media
The Jedi Temple was destroyed.
Your fellow Jedi were slaughtered in cold blood. 
You could feel your heart frantically beating as you rushed through the halls of pure massacre, the walls forever tarnished by the horrors that had been committed. Fellow Jedi that you’ve trained with are lying on the floor lifeless, and some are in cauterized pieces. You felt like you could throw up at any moment, the hilt of your lightsaber held in your shaky grasp. You were in a state of delirium; your thoughts were filled with dueling lightsabers and people screaming in fear. However, there was one thing that was absolutely certain.
You needed to find Anakin.
‘Please, let him be safe.’ You thought to yourself as you managed to turn a corner, your other hand gripping your ribcage, your heart threatening to explode. ‘By the force, please protect him.’ 
You were anxious to find him, yet filled with dread. Your mind was racing with images of his form in pieces, his eyes lifeless without any warmth. It almost made the journey too much to bear. 
You rounded another corner that led towards the entrance of one of the temple’s many great halls. As you pushed through the entrance, a heavy feeling filled your chest, and you were completely unable to go any further. Your eyes were wide, and you could feel your breath failing you. 
As you gazed into the distance, you noticed a familiar figure, clad in a brown robe with a hood covering his face, that you had never failed to recognize, even at a distance. As the figure walked towards you, a large group of clone soldiers followed behind him, weapons drawn. In his hand was his own lightsaber, which he clutched tightly in his grasp.
Anakin.
"Ani!” You cried, disengaging your lightsaber and rushing towards him with tears in your eyes, prepared and ready to meet him with a sense of relief. 
You threw your arms around him, tears rolling down your face as you sobbed. He returned your embrace, arms wrapping around the small of your back, pulling you into his chest.
“Ani,” you muttered between sobs, “I’m so glad you’re ok, I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”
He tightened his grip on your waist, holding you close, “I know what you mean…”
You sniffled as you tried to gather yourself, “Anakin, so many lives…” you hiccuped, “what happened.”
“Only what needed to.”
“What?” you exclaimed as you looked up to meet his eyes. 
The sight of his blood stained face made you gasp. No. This wasn’t the Anakin you knew. This couldn’t be happening.
But it was. The man you’d carried a torch for all these years, your best friend and confidant, stood before you, clothed in the blood of your friends.
You pushed against his chest, trying to escape from his grasp but he refused to let you go. He held you tightly against him with one arm, using his other hand to brush hair from your face affectionately. A gesture that once would have made you blush now filled you with malice.
“I know you don’t understand now, but you will my love,” he whispered, “now sleep.”
“Anakin…no…” you fought a losing battle to keep your eyes open. You were strong in the force, but Anakin was stronger.
Your head lulled to the side as you fell asleep in his arms.
Tumblr media
Taglist:
@prettywhenibleed @leiasolo77 @britany1997 @misslavenderlady @arianamhm @rottent33th @slaasherslut
724 notes · View notes
therenlover · 7 months
Text
Always For A Second (Usually At The Start) - A Helmut Zemo x Reader fic
Tumblr media
"And when I imagine life when it's mine / I can try to picture faceless folk to love a thousand times / But always for a second, and usually at the start / You're in the image posing with a cradled beating heart" - Katie Gregson MacLeod, i'm worried it will always be you
Synopsis: Leaving Helmut for good had been the biggest, most final choice you'd ever had to make. Two years later, he's in your living room again. This time, though, things are different.
Tags: Explicit Smut (+18), Exes, Getting Back Together, Enemies to Lovers to Exes to Lovers, Enthusiastic Consent, Switch!Zemo, Oral (Fem Receiving), Service Top!Zemo, Aftercare, Bucky is Mentioned Too Much
Rating: E (+18) Minors DNI
Warnings: N/A
Word Count: 8,600~
-------------
“I didn’t expect you to come crawling back so soon, schatz,”
The restaurant was crowded enough that nobody heard Helmut’s words, curt and cloying and so fucking familiar. Still, my face heated. It always would for him, no matter how much my common sense protested by body’s reactions. How dare he be so damn effective at getting under my skin? 
Some over-expensive brown liquor sloshed against the rim of the glass in my hand as I lifted it less than gracefully from the table, dribbling down the edge of my mouth as I guided it to my lips and drank deeply. “For one, two years isn’t soon,” I started, swallowing. “Two, you’re the asshole who showed up in my apartment like a robber, which makes you the one who came crawling back. I was just nice enough to let you take me for a free meal to get you the hell out. Three,” I set the glass down sharply, “don’t call me that. We’re not friends. We’re not anything. I still haven’t forgiven you,” 
“Apologies,” 
He didn’t mean it. 
“Still, it’s too soon to expect any sort of kindness from you,” he continued, “If I recall correctly, you said you’d rather die than suffer through another night with me for the rest of eternity. I believe an eternity has yet to pass… and yet, here we are,”
His matter of fact tone left little up for debate, unless I wanted to reach for my fork and maim his smug face. Instead, I bit my tongue and swallowed another mouthful of whatever I was drinking.
For once I was glad to be surrounded by the kind of noisy, faceless jumble of humanity that usually made my skin crawl. F. Scott Fitzgerald was on to something with his theories on large crowds and intimacy; there was no better place for two war criminals to meet than the corner booth of a hazy restaurant, lounging and drinking, covered by the blanket of sweet anonymity. Anyone who glanced our way would see two normal human beings sharing a meal in peaceable silence, sharing sparse conversation between bites of this and that. 
They would see lovers.
The thought left a lump in my throat. 
Maybe I looked uncomfortable enough that they would presume, correctly, that we were ex-lovers. I wasn’t hopeful about it, though. 
Helmut noticed, of course, but I knew he would. He had always had an almost supernatural sense for these things, like he could tune into my emotional radio on a frequency I didn’t even fully know myself. Enemy or ally or… otherwise, it was a constant to be seen through and picked apart like carrion. An appetizer for the fights to come. Thankfully, though, he chose to have mercy on me this time in a rare show of respect. Instead of wrapping his lips around another snide comment- even though I could tell it was burning a bitter hole into the tip of his tongue behind his clenched teeth- he chose to pick up a ring of calamari from the plate between us. He held it up to examine the crust in the dim lamplight before placing it delicately against his lips, pulling it from the fork in one bite. Still, he couldn’t be too gracious. Helmut held eye contact as he went.
I could only managed a disgusted sigh but found myself mirrored as his teeth sunk into the squid and his brow furrowed. 
“Bad?” I asked.
He chewed for a good while before managing to swallow the offending clump down, gagging all the way. “Despite my recent diet, that might be the worst thing I’ve eaten in a long while,”
A laugh escaped me before I even knew it was there. “You managed to pick a restaurant where our appetizer is worse than prison food? Serves you right for ordering seafood in the midwest,” 
“I suppose it does.” He nudged the plate towards me with a growing smirk, “See for yourself. I’d hate to see it wasted, and as you said, it is ours. I can’t be expected to finish it alone,” 
As if under the spell of his charisma all over again, I followed his instructions without a second thought. It was just as bad as I anticipated. 
Things were off to a bad start from the moment the tines of my fork hit the batter. The breading seemed to squelch under the pressure, sagging and giving way into meat that was somehow both rubbery and gelatinous, if that was even possible, and if the texture seemed bad outside of my mouth it was even worse inside. Somewhere between its fishy tang and the overly salted batter, there was a bitter, almost sour note that seemed to permeate further with every chew. I spit the macerated glob into my napkin before even attempting to swallow down the remaining spit. 
Across the table, Zemo grinned at my misfortune. “Let’s hope our entrees are less offensive to our palettes,” 
“Fuck off,” I muttered, lips turning up at the edges. 
“You can curse all you want at my poor choice of venue, but I can tell you’re glad you’re the one who ordered the pasta instead of the steak,” 
I went for my glass again, letting the liquor with a name I couldn’t pronounce burn all the way down my throat and into my chest. “I hate that you’re always right, Helmut. Can’t you be wrong, just once? Leave some correctness for the rest of us,” 
Maybe it was the lighting, soft and amber against the dark wood of the table to mask the bloody steaks that would sit below, or maybe it was the music, something old and swinging that I couldn’t quite put my finger on but knew from the radio in my grandmother’s car as a child, or maybe, just maybe, it was the crows feet that popped up around Helmut’s eyes when he smiled that hadn’t been quite so prominent the last time I’d seen him, but no matter the cause, the solid iron wall I had put up around my heart when I walked out of the Baron’s life those two year sago seemed to soften. Weakened, somehow. It was like someone took a blowtorch right to the center of my defenses. Something in me screamed that they had never been all that strong to begin with. 
I only noticed I’d been staring when he looked away, clearing his throat and wiping his thin mouth with the napkin from his lap. 
There went my hand. Helmut, 1. Me, 0… Well, 1, if leaving him those years ago counted for anything, and I refused to believe that it hadn’t. That the blow to his ego hadn’t given me at least a slight upper hand compared to the naive girl I had been in comparison when I first met him. There had been so much good in the world then. 
The silence dragged on as if the structural flaws of my guarded heart could patch themselves up with the defenses created from just a few silent moments between us. That’s all it would take for me to remember all the reasons this would never work: all the pain, the sleepless nights, the snide comments that turned into biting replies that grew into massive, earth-shattering fights that exploded into days or weeks or months living alone in a house with him. One by one, the memories flooded back, reminding me exactly why it had taken me almost two years to find enough peace within myself that I wouldn’t decide to shoot the man in front of me on sight. My heart hardened by the second.
“I saw your concert,” 
I was simultaneously thawed and frozen all over again. “How did you-“ 
“James mentioned it,” 
“You still talk to Bucky?” 
“Here and there,” 
The conversation lapsed into silence. 
He had… been there? I didn’t even bother to think about the talk I’d have to have with Bucky about my privacy, too focused on the more important matter at hand. 
The venue was grungy, a basement bar with a small stage serving the communities aspiring comedians and desperate punk-rock garage dwellers just waiting for their big break. I had barely had the guts to pay the booking fee, though. It was just me, a piano, and my guitar for an hour and a half set of mostly cover songs that had gone better than I’d expected, but hadn’t been anything crazy. The crowd was appreciative and respectful. Several people had left tips, even more giving me a congratulatory clap on the back as I left the building that night, promising to “stream my EP” whenever I released it, despite the fact that I had no plans to do any such thing. Still, I couldn’t imagine that I hadn’t seen his face in the crowd. I couldn’t name what I was feeling as I imagined it; visualized his face on the other side of the smoky room, leaned against the bar with his dark eyes catching hold of mine…
“You came and you didn’t say anything? Not even a hello?” 
Helmut laughed, but there wasn’t much humor in it. “And risk my life over a free concert? No.” He paused, “Despite my tendency to sometimes be… less than kind, I knew it would rattle you to see me. I didn’t want to throw you off before your performance.” 
I didn’t have much of anything to say in response. Instead, I picked at the paper straw wrapper in my lap and tried to look anywhere but in his direction, shoving down whatever was welling up in my chest. He wouldn’t let things go, though. He never could. That was half of why we’d never work. Every time I tried to drop an uncomfortable subject he’d be there to pick it up with a snide comment or two. It was an easy rhythm. Too easy. I had never wanted to fall back into it and yet, here I was, almost excited to snipe his next words down. 
“Cain misses you,” He continued. 
I folded the straw wrapper in my hands, pulling at the crease as I thought about the doberman puppy I had left behind. He would be so big now, as big as the one I’d taken with me was now. My heart ached at the thought. 
“I doubt he remembers me after all this time,” 
“Of course he does,” Helmut’s voice was low. It was almost hypnotic, the way he carried himself. He could fool anyone. I realized, with a sinking feeling in my stomach that couldn’t have been the calamari, he could still fool me. “He’s quite the troublemaker. More times than I can count he’s evaded me in the house, only to be found asleep in your old closet. I think he remembers your scent,” 
“Thats…” I sat quiet for a moment, pursing through choices of words in my mind, mulling over the sharp accented way he pronounced the t in scent, “Sad. Really sad. Makes me wish I could’ve taken them both,” 
“And what of Brutus?”
“He’s good,” A smile crossed my face. “Big, as you saw tonight. I remember when we got them, they told us they’d be 60 pounds at most, but I swear Brutus must’ve snuck in with the rest of those puppies, because he’s massive. Headbutts me every time I walk through the door wondering where I was. He’s a good boy, though. Keeps watch while I sleep, just in case.”
“Just in case I decided to let myself in through the window one night?”
I let myself laugh without judgement this time, reaching for my water. “Looks like it was all for nothing, then. Who knew he’d just let intruders come waltzing in off of the fire escape?” 
“Am I truly considered an intruder in your home?” He asked it as if the answer wasn’t obvious. As if there were any other answer I could possibly give. As if I could’ve wanted him there. His earnestness almost hurt as much as his taunting did, maybe more, because even if I didn’t want to admit it to myself, there was a soft ring of truth to his words. 
I took the cowards way out. “I don’t know, what do you think?” 
It was a vulnerability to not give a straight answer, the kind of weak spot that Helmut would catch wind of in an instant before using it to unravel someone piece by piece. Not a no, but certainly not a yes, and the fact that it hadn’t been a resounding yes was enough to glean that maybe, deep down, I wasn’t hating this dinner. He would see through me. Rip me to shreds for the subtle admittance that I hadn’t hated seeing him waiting for me on the couch when I walked through my door, even if I hadn’t expected or wanted him there in the first place. 
I found it was better to lie by omission than to fully lie and let him see through me to the more important truth; For as much as I despised everything about him, I had missed Helmut Zemo. I had missed his stupid expensive taste and the tilt of his stupid head and his stupid shiny white smile. I had missed seeing his coat hung up beside the door and knowing what waited for me inside. It was sick how I had loved him. How I had loved every minute of him picking me apart by the seams and putting me back together. Who could possibly crave their own destruction? Who could live knowing that to be loved was to be deconstructed down to the bone and laid bare as something lesser, something so small compared to the great destroyer I devoted myself to. 
How could he let me live like that if he truly saw through me? 
And that was why I had to leave. 
Loving Helmut Zemo was no way to live. I knew that. I had known that the day I picked up my dog and walked out of our home with nothing but my wallet, car keys, phone, and a polaroid picture of his silhouette. Somehow, I knew that he knew that too. Why else would I move on so suddenly, so sharply, removing every piece of the life we’d built to start myself fresh? A new me, I had said. A new chapter. Yet here I was across from him, shredded bits of paper littering my lap as he puppeteered my heart right back into his arms. 
No. I couldn’t let it happen. 
Not again. 
“Listen, baron,” I didn’t let him answer my rhetorical question. It wouldn’t be wise to let him gain the upper hand again. It wouldn’t be smart to let myself stay weak. “I appreciate dinner. It’s been surprisingly lovely to catch up with you. I’m glad to know you’re not dead, and its great to know Cain is doing well, but I know you weren’t here to tell me that over a plate of mediocre pasta,” 
Helmut smiled, his head in its signature tilt, and swished his own glass a bit. The ice was all but melted giving the liquor an almost clear quality as it diluted. Not a sip had been taken. “Ask the question, schatz,” 
“Why are you here? Why did you stalk me here and break into my apartment when I made it clear that you weren’t welcome in my life?” My words came out so matter of fact even I almost recoiled at them. Not unemotional but detached. 
“Um, who had the chicken alfredo?”
I could feel the blood drain from my face as I looked up at the poor waiter, hot plates in hand, as he took in our table at just the wrong time. Five minutes earlier he would have walked in on polite conversation about the dogs or the shitty appetizers. Now, though, he stood between a man who was known to kill for the things he wanted and me, the one thing he could never have again. 
Surprisingly, though, Helmut waved a hand towards me as I froze. There were none of the usual dramatics, just polite chatter with the waiter as he set my plate in front of me and left Helmut with his, taking the offending calamari plate away with him as he scurried away, surely to tell his coworkers about the crazy exes at the corner table. Helmut didn't even carry on with his answer. He just started tucking in to his steak and potatoes, not sparing me a single glance. If I didn’t know better, if I hadn’t memorized the way his eyes looked in the low light of a restaurant across from me, I would think he’d been replaced by a skrull.
Where was the tearing? The shredding? The utter evisceration of my waiting throat as he drank deeply of my darkest, most shameful thoughts only to spit them out for the world to see. Where was that shame? In the before times, in the times that the two of us had been a we, he never would have paused to mind a waiter. The world would have revolved around him as he laid me bare, no matter who watched or waited in the wings. What changed? 
How had I not noticed his docility until now?
The pasta was decent. It was better than anything I would’ve made at home, at least. I barely thought about it, though, letting my body go through the motions of eating mechanically while my mind went over a million things I could say. What could I say? There was nothing left to. We had gone over every possibility before I had left, at least I thought we had. Whatever we were was dead. That was certain. But what we could be…
I swallowed hard before I could choke on a relatively large piece of broccoli I neglected to chew in my trance. 
Helmut seemed to be in a painfully similar situation. One look at his plate showed a steak cut into tiny pieces. Almost none of it looked eaten, just diced into a pile and shuffled around a bit on the plate to mix with the potatoes, smashed down from their neat ice cream scoop globe and spread with the back of a fork. 
With a sigh, I set down my fork, pasta already forgotten. 
“Lost your appetite?” 
He paused his fiddling with his fork and knife, mirroring me and letting the utensils rest on the table beside his plate. It was odd to see him rattled. Strange to watch his eyes roll up to the ceiling and pause there, as if he was searching for the right words to say. He always knew just what to say to cut the deepest. Maybe it was foreign for him to not want to cut; To find a soft word, instead of a sharpened one. His mouth opened one… two…three times. Open and shut, open and shut. I couldn’t help but hurt for him. The man of many words was finally struck dumb. 
Finally, it came. 
“I’m sorry,” 
I had anticipated a selfish reply, a demand for me to come back and put the past two years behind us, but time had changed him. It had changed us both. He was no longer the man he had been when he was first freed from behind bars, vengeful and biting and so deeply afraid of being alone again, but I was no longer the lost girl I had been either. I did not need to be destroyed to breathe. I could feel tears pricking up in my eyes as he reached a hand across the table to search for my own. It was such a familiar sight in a time of uncertainty. I kept my hands firmly in my lap, though. I would not give him the satisfaction. 
More, I would not give him hope.
“Come home, schatz,”  
There it was. 
I couldn’t hold in the bitter, wet laugh that bubbled up through me, more at my own foolishness than at anything else. He had changed, yes, but some things never would. 
“Helmut,” The word hurt to say. It was altogether both familiar and unfamiliar, covered in a thick layer of dust from time, but nothing could erase the fact that it had once been used over and over, like a prayer, as easy as breathing or saying my own name. “You know I can’t,” 
He let his hand slink back to his side. “I had to try, you know,”
“I know,” The words were a whisper. 
So this was closure? 
The table was quiet. There was no desperation from Helmut’s side, no attempts to sway me or sudden outbursts of resentment. It was almost peaceful. His voice was sad but there was no manipulation in it. We laid our cards of the table as the game we’d played for years finally came to an end. 
“You were right about us, when you left,” he laughed, “I was, as you so aptly put it, a massive ass. I was still so deeply disillusioned about this world and the horrors of it. It was as if everyone around me was just another cog in it all, even you. I thought if I could puppet it all, make things go my way, everything could just be quiet. The horrors would finally stop. The memories would finally stop. I took it too far, though. I took it out on you. For that, I will never be sorry enough,” 
I put up a hand. “Helmut, you don’t have to do this-“
“I want to,”
His voice was delicate but didn’t waver. For the first time I wondered if this was more about what he needed to say than about what I needed to hear. I nodded him on. Without me even thinking about what I was doing, my hand caught his across the table.
“I wanted to run after you the same day you left. I nearly did, too, before I thought better of it. Then I really thought of what you said. What I did. It was then that I decided I had to change for the better, not for you but for myself. Only then would I allow myself to try again. So I did. I spent my time deconstructing the things I had seen and done and finally facing my own demons. I’m not perfect- believe me -but there are many things I have… worked on, for lack of a better word. James was surprisingly helpful throughout it all,” 
“Is that why you’ve been talking?” My thumb stroked over his knuckles, pausing on a scar. 
“More or less. I needed advice on how to overcome my atrocities, and I owed him an apology either way. He told me about your concert because he thought I would be ready to make amends, and yet I found myself unable to speak to you because I knew that if I did, I would have to beg you for forgiveness, and that is not something I will allow myself to do from anyone. Not now, nor ever,”
I let myself pull away. This was not a movie. There was no happy ending for the two of us at the end of this conversation. It was a chance to clear the air and let go of our grievances before going our separate ways. Treating it any other way would only hurt us both. “Why break in, then, and drag this all out over dinner? Why not just knock on my door, apologize, and leave?”
“I couldn’t have you slamming the door in my face and leaving me to apologize to the wall, now could I?” 
We shared a sad smile, a knowing one. “I guess that’s true.” 
“I needed to know you would hear what I had to say until the end,” he paused, “And one last confession. I must admit, I could not walk away without sharing dinner with you one last time. It’s selfish, as I am selfish, but I could not see you again without truly seeing you, more than just as you shouted at me and threw me to the curb,” 
“You think so little of me?” I asked. There was no bite in it. 
“No, I think so little of myself,” he finally took a sip from his glass, “Any anger on your part is warranted,” 
We did not speak again for a long while. Helmut methodically went through the bite-sized pieces of steak on his plate as I finished the alfredo, which had grown cold in the time it took to sort things out. There was no quiet conversation, no jokes or shared stories in the glow of the lamps overhead. Instead we sat in peaceable silence and breathed in the finality of it all. I was almost grateful for it. I never would have imagined sharing a meal like this with him in all of the years I had known him and loved him. If it was to be the last, and it was, we would savor every moment of each others company. Every moment not spent on my meal was devoted to memorizing the line of his jaw and the shape of his eyes as he did the same for me. 
By the time the waiter came to ask about dessert, I could have written sonnets about his face alone, and by the time he returned with the check, paid discreetly with a 40% tip for his troubles on Helmut’s card, I had committed the sound of his breathing to my mind. I could only hope the memory would last this time.
Realistically, I knew it wouldn’t. 
I wondered if he was thinking the same thing as we approached the front of the restaurant together, pausing awkwardly outside the door as we exited out onto the street. 
“So, this is it,” My hands found the pockets of my coat as I rocked onto the balls of my feet. 
Helmut smiled softly in the lamplight. “Let me walk you home,” 
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” 
“Says who? I have to follow you either way, my car is parked down the block,” He offered me his arm. 
I took it far quicker than I should have, relishing in the scent of his cologne. Even after all these years he had never switched to another brand, and I refused to admit to anyone else but myself that I was grateful for it. Instead I leaned into his warmth. “Well, it’s only a few blocks anyways. I guess it couldn’t hurt,” and with that, we were off. 
The night was cool. Summer had given in to the pull of a lush fall, the temperatures dropping to a comfortable but windy chill when the sun fell below the horizon. The leaves were not yet falling but they’d begun their slow transformation from green into a mosaic of reds and yellows and greens, forming a rustling canopy above the sidewalk that allowed a flash of stars and moon through the foliage every few steps. 
We were not the only pair walking through the streets that night, but if you had asked me about it later I would have said we were the only two people in the whole city, matching each other step for step under the flickering streetlights. Helmut’s crows feet were in full force as he laughed at my terrible jokes, and I couldn’t help but feel warmth rush through my neck and cheeks as he recounted the moment we first met. 
It had been fall then, too. A brief, chance encounter in the streets of Paris was all it was, a night spend with a stranger, until I had seen him again in Sibera, and again in Germany, and again on the Raft, and again, and again, and again, and again…
He had been younger then, much younger, and still raw with grief, but I had loved him even then.
I was so lost in my own memories that I almost missed the stairs up to my apartment, but Helmut paused there, keeping me rooted with him even though the look in his eyes told me he almost kept walking past, hoping to gain one more turn around the block before he had to let me go. He didn't, though. This was the end of the line. 
My arm slipped easily from its place against his own, hand catching briefly on the crook of his elbow. “Walk me to my door?”
His laugh felt almost nervous, a paid mockery of my own earlier reticence. “I don’t think that’s wise,” 
“Aren’t you supposed to be a gentleman, baron?” 
“I have never claimed that,” For a moment, when he paused, I thought that would be that. I would turn my back, ascend the stairs, and turn around to find he’d shifted back into the shadows from whence he came, but then the moonlight caught on his soft, wet eyes. “But for you, schatz, I try to be,” 
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t find the words I wanted to say as we walked up the front steps and into the building. 
It had been so angry last time. I had vomited up every hateful, raging, repressed thought that I had shoved down into my chest over the course of our turbulent time together all at once and left without a second glance. This time, though, it felt wrong to end things without giving him credit for all of the other things, the things I had forgotten in the midst of all the chaos that surrounded us. How could I thank him? How could I tell him every wonderful thing about himself only to close the door in his face a moment later? I spent the whole trip up to my apartment trying to find a way to express even an ounce of what I felt, and then it was far too late. 
We stood there on my novelty doormat, boots settled over the dirty cartoon chickens, hands in our pockets, and breathed in the stale hallway air. 
“Thank you for dinner,” I said. If I shut off my heart and my mind and every other little betraying ache in my bones it was like it had been all those years ago. We were just meeting. This was the end of our very first date. There was a future instead of a past in the time that lay beyond us. 
Helmut averted his eyes from mine. I could tell he was pretending too. “Of course,” 
“I’ll see you again,” I lied, “I mean, it’s inevitable. We’ll end up at Bucky’s place at the same time,” 
“Or run into each other at a busy cafe,” he offered. 
“Exactly! Or our cells will end up next to each other in maximum security prison,” I laughed, but it caught, pathetic, in the back of my throat.  
He took a step back, boots leaving my doorstep. “I look forward to it, whenever it may be,” 
My shaking hands found my keys, an autopilot motion I had done a million times, and the door to my apartment swung open. I could hear Brutus in his kennel, beginning to whine the moment he heard me come home, but I paused there for a moment, one foot in and one foot out. 
“Goodbye, Helmut,” 
“Sleep well, schatz,” 
I stepped inside and locked the door without turning around for a last look. 
My tears came quicker than expected as I took in the room around me. It was the antithesis of my home with Helmut, all whites and beiges and grays from the sparse walls to the lonely couch against the wall. There was one great shock of black, though; a solid footprint on the windowsill. One last souvenir to remember him by. 
I had done the right thing. 
I had to have done the right thing. 
Life with Helmut was hell. It was exciting and lush and romantic and alluring but it was destructive and painful too. It would mean being seen and unseen for the rest of my life, living with the ghosts of those lost in Novi Grad. He would never stop being the man his grief had created. He was just too broken… wasn’t he? 
All at once I knew I had to see him again. This wasn’t going to be the end. There were still so many chances to make it right. 
Before I knew my own feelings, I was undoing the latch and throwing my door open, only to find him there, feet planted solidly on that stupid welcome mat and fist raised to lift the knocker. Our eyes locked. 
We didn’t need words then. 
No, all I needed was his lips on mine and my hands in his hair. It was a need easily rectified. 
He didn’t pull away as I grabbed the edges of his ridiculous fur coat and dragged him in for a kiss, letting the remains of that day’s lipstick smear against his chapped lips as the parted and made way for me. It was like a piece of my puzzle fell back into place, like the thing that had been lying dormant in my empty chest for the past two years had jumped to life and jumped into my throat. The tears weren’t coming anymore, though Helmut’s cheeks felt wet when I guided one of my hands to rest against it, dragging him closer. I needed him urgently. I needed all of it. Every moment I had missed. 
At least one time in my entire tiny, useless life I needed to know him as he had always known me. I had to see him through eyes that would know every atom of him by heart. 
It could have lasted second or hours. I was lost in it; lost in every heartbeat and the messy clack of teeth on teeth as we remembered exactly how our mouths locked into each other. There was no need to breathe. I would happily drown in him if he would let me. Through the passion I distinctly remembered this fervor, the endless need for him. It wasn’t frightening anymore, though. I knew how to walk away. We both did. 
This time I didn’t want to. 
Helmut was the first to pull away. His mouth was wet and red as he panted there, just a breath away from diving in for more, but he pulled away when I advanced again, instead choosing to speak between placing kisses on my cheeks and down my jaw. “I couldn’t let you walk away from me. Not again,” his voice shook as he kissed me, “Does that make me a bad man? Does that mean you can’t love me?” 
I could only breathe a laugh as I pressed my chest to him. No measure of closeness was enough. I needed him to cover every inch of me. “I don’t think I could stop loving you if I tried, and I’ve tried,” 
“Please, stop trying,”
With that, he caught me in another kiss. 
“We should probably go inside,” I panted, gesturing towards the apartment with my head and Helmut nodded, maneuvering us over the threshold and into the barren entryway of the home  I’d made without him. It didn’t matter, though. That wasn’t what I was focused on. Instead, my hands were more focused on pulling his coat from his shoulders and discarding it loosely in the direction of the coat rack between fevered kisses. 
The old Helmut would’ve pulled away and make some snarky remark about keeping the place clean. This Helmut, though- my Helmut, as I had selfishly started to refer to him mentally in the past few moments -just dragged me in closer after his arms were freed, letting his hand drift to the small of my back but not even an inch lower.
Suddenly, though, things seemed to cool. The kisses grew shorter, softer. His arms still held me but seemed to loosen their grip. 
“Tell me you want this,” He whispered softly against the shell of my ear, “That you want me,” 
Ah. So that’s what this is. 
“Helmut, of course I do-“ 
“That’s not enough,” his voice was laced with a rare seriousness as he pulled away to look at me properly. His brown eyes glowed a million honeyed colors under the shitty, flickering overhead lighting I should have replaced months ago. They flitted from my swollen mouth to my cheeks to my watery eyes as his hand came up to cup my cheeks again. “Tell me this isn’t a mistake or a bad decision you’ll regret the second we finish,” 
The rest went unsaid. 
(Tell me you’ll stay. Tell me this means something to you, even if it doesn’t mean as much as it does to me. Tell me I won’t wake up alone tomorrow morning. Tell me anything and everything except the cruel reality that neither of us really knows what the future looks like once this is over)
I simply nodded my head, coming in for one closed mouth kiss. “I want this. I want you. Whatever I choose to do next, you’ll be a part of the decision. No more running away,” 
Like a shot, we were off to the races again. 
It was hard to detach our bodies long enough to give Brutus a treat to quiet him down, harder still to lead him to the bedroom and drop his hand long enough to turn on a nearby lamp, but somehow I managed. For all of the small things I’d forgotten about Helmut in the two years we’d spent apart, his bitten nails and the silhouette of his nose and the sound of his labored breathing as he took in my body with something akin to animalistic hunger, it was easy to fall back into the rhythm we’d always found ourselves in intimately. 
His shirt came off first, exposing the soft curve of his stomach. I kissed down from his neck to his chest, letting myself pause on each and every pinkish scar that graced his flesh. I made a mental note to ask him about a few new ones, including a wicked one across his collarbone that still puckered into an inch long divot in his flesh. My fingers followed my mouth, mapping every inch of his flesh. They caught on every soft yielding place he offered, a worship on the altar of his body, dragging his flesh ever so slightly but never enough to leave a scratch or bruise. 
I would not mark him any more than the world already had. It was not my purpose to remold him into my image. Instead I would venerate what he was, what he had become. 
Helmut had put so much effort into changing himself, rebreaking the things that had never healed correctly and setting them right again. I refused to let him break down to splinters again. Not on my watch. 
He shuddered at my attentions. 
“Let me see you?” It was a question, not a demand, and how could I deny him when he asked so nicely? 
I stood up again, relishing in the feeling of his fingers against the hem of my t-shirt, the gentle scratch of nails on skin as he lifted it over my head. When he looked at me, it was like he was looking at the most precious thing in the world. Usually he was so hungry for it that there was never a pause once my shirt was discarded. My bra would be thrown off with it, then my pants, then my underwear, all in such quick succession that I barely distinguished one article from the next in the order of things. This time, though, he paused, hands just inches from my bare flesh. 
“My sweet girl,” he whispered to me like a prayer, a confession, “I don’t think I can hold back much longer,” 
Slowly, deliberately, I stepped forward and pressed my body into his awaiting hands. He squeezed my hips once, gentle, and twice. Then they were roaming up to the clasp on my bra with that usual hunger again, freeing my breasts for his attentions. I don’t exactly recall how he manhandled me on to the bed, I was too busy feeling the hard press of his bulge through his crisp dress slacks. The first thing I was fully cognizant of was his hot breath on my sternum as he hovered over me, still standing but bent at the waist, boxing me in with his knees. 
“So fucking sweet,” he whispered before taking one of my nipples between his lips and laving his tongue over the hardening tip. 
I felt like a live wire. Heat was building everywhere. Dazzling electricity shot through my head and fingers and toes and cunt and gods especially my breasts. They were always my weak spot, and how he knew it, how he knew me. I wanted to thrash against him, to buck and gain his attention where I really needed it, but his body above mine held me fast, keeping me right where he wanted me, vulnerable to him and his specific brand of torture. With a particularly sharp pinch and a well timed suck he had me keening against him, curling into his every move. 
How had I lived without him? It was hard to imagine a night not spend here with Helmut, wherever here was, not that that mattered. I was embarrassingly wet. The slickness had gathered enough that I could feel it on my thighs despite my jeans. When I tried to relieve myself, though, the baron caught my hand, tutting softly. 
I expected to have to ask permission. Soft begs escaped my mouth. I needed him. I had no patience for games. Instead, though, he lifted up off of my chest and smiled, pulling my hand to his lips. “Let me help you, love,” 
There are no words in the human language that could adequately represent the sound that escaped my mouth. I could not even begin to try. It continued even as I lifted my hips to shimmy free from my jeans and underwear in one fluid motion, only ceasing when Helmut was on his knees with his face buried in my cunt. I was making different noises then. Loud. Guttural. If I had any mind left at all I would worry what my neighbors thought, to see me out on my doorstep desperately pawing at a man only to hear the noises we were making in tandem now. Thankfully, any sensible thought I had left seemed to fly out the window with Helmut’s first lick to my cunt. 
It was clear that he hadn’t forgotten me, and if he had, the muscle memory was coming back quick. His tongue was deft as it worked its way over my aching nub in a pseudo-figure eight; circling once, twice, and three times before dipping back through my folds. I held him in place this time, though, rocking into his mouth. At some point my hands found their way into his hair. It was so soft between my fingers, so pliable as I pulled against him, desperate for more of him, anything he would good. 
Every time he relented to me. Each sharp jolt was rewarded with a kiss against my thigh or a muttered curse in Sokovian, hot breath teasing my glistening mound. 
He was so giving, so attentive to my every need. He had always been a generous lover, never leaving me wanting for anything, but this felt… different. The way he sucked bruises into my thighs, relenting to each and every sobbing please that escaped my soft lips, was a new and devastating experience. There were no power games left to play, no lording his sexual prowess over me as he brought me slowly closer and closer to the ever distant goalpost, just his mouth on me over and over and over again as he wrung the first orgasm of the night out of me, then the second in short measure, barely ceasing from one to the next.
By the time he decided I’d had my fill, my legs were a trembling mess against his shoulders and my cunt was a sopping mess. 
He grinned a crooked grin at his masterpiece.
“How was that, my love,” 
I could barely catch my breath enough to speak. My heartbeat thundered in my ears, thrumming a frantic drumbeat even as the room quieted. “So good- really really good, Helmut,” 
Slowly, he rose up from his knees, undoing his belt. “Please say my name again, schatz,” 
“Helmut,” My voice was hushed. Reverent. 
He undid the button at his fly, pulling at the band of his boxers. “Again,” 
It fell from my lips like a prayer. “Helmut,”
His cock bounced free, bobbing as he took a sharp, steadying breath. He placed his hand at the base and squeezed slightly. 
“Again,” 
“Helmut,” 
“Fuck, that’s good,” The trance broke momentarily as I gazed up at him, watching the sweat roll down his forehead in shining rivulets despite the chill in the air. He wiped at them with the back of his free hand and smiled sheepishly. “Scoot back and get comfortable, please. I don’t think I’ll last long,” 
I did as he asked, settling against my pillows on the still-made sheets. “Neither will I,” 
“Where are your condoms?” 
“Bedside drawer, way in the back. I’m on the pill too, so no worries,” 
He moved quickly, grabbing a foil package from the small pile I’d accrued, just in case. 
It felt odd to have him be the one using them. 
There had been a few other men who had been invited here, fewer still that made it to the point that Helmut and I were at now. Every time, though, I hadn’t been able to go through with it, because every time they had finally settled themselves above me, I would close my eyes and, just for a moment, see Helmut in their place. It was unsettling the first time, enough so that I sent the guy home right away. The next time, though, it was more thought provoking than anything. I chalked it up to him being my longest lasting sexual partner and left it at that, but now, watching him roll the condom onto his length and crawl into his position over me, I knew. 
I would never get over him, even if I tried for years. My heart had a space carved out in the shape of his own. No matter how long I stayed away, I would never find something quite like what we had. He was it. This was what people dreamed about. And to think, I had almost let it slip away…
He slid one hand into mine, lacing our fingers together in the gentle lamplight. “Are you ready for me?” 
“More than ready,” My thighs spread as I canted my hips up.
Physically and mentally and every other possible way I needed him. I was prepared. 
So Helmut pumped himself once with his free hand before guiding himself into my wet heat. 
It was impossible to last long once we were finally complete. 
Feeling him inside me was like knowing the truth of the universe. It was comfortable, and thrilling, and so deliciously enough. He filled me well, finding his rhythm as he swore and released my hand to prop himself up more comfortably. We were linked together like the final pieces of a puzzle. I closed my eyes at let myself relish in it. 
There was nothing left to worry over while Helmut was inside of me. All thoughts that weren’t of him were banished. It was something to be cherished, every thrust paired with a whispered confession of love from one of us, a fleeting kiss, a curse, a plea… We laid ourselves bare. I let my legs wrap around his warm, soft hips as he rutted into me, bringing a hand between us to circle my clit once more. Even after everything he refused to leave me behind while he chased his own pleasure. It didn’t take much to send me tumbling over the edge into oblivion. 
As always, Helmut followed me down. 
His thrusts quickened, then stilled as he came to rest upon me, panting and heaving and begging for breath. I didn’t care much. He smelled of cologne and sweat as I buried my face in his shoulder and closed my eyes. I could feel him soften inside of me but I was far too spent to urge him to move.
We only shifted apart when he slipped free of me.
Helmut quickly kissed my forehead and gathered himself up, shuffling to the trash can to discard the used condom and grab a tissue to wipe himself up. I didn’t let myself move an inch. If I moved, would the bliss run away? Would I realize what I’d done? I let myself lay instead, eyes closed, panting in the autumn chill as my lover approached and wiped up our beautiful mess as gently as he could manage. With one last kiss to my thigh, he discarded the rag, opened the window, and crawled back into bed with me. 
The process was indelicate, a lot of awkward shuffling of sticky limbs, but we were settled beneath the blankets soon enough. Helmut stroked his fingers down my arm languidly while kissing the back of my neck. 
I broke the peace between us. 
“I don’t… I don’t know what this means for us,” 
He sighed gently. His breath was soothing and familiar against my shoulder. “That’s not something we have to decide at this very moment,” 
“But I just don’t want you to think this means something… or at least something more than it does? If that makes sense? I don’t know,”
“Schatz, please,” 
“I want to keep my own place, at least for now. I don’t know what that means for when I’ll see you or if we’ll keep doing this,” I gestured vaguely to my nude body beneath the sheets, “or if we’re even a thing anymore, bu-“ 
Helmut reached his arm around us, placing a quieting finger over my lips and another soft kiss against my shoulder. 
“I swear, your mind sounds even louder than mine,” 
“Sorry,” 
“No reason to be,” His hand left my lips, running down to my stomach and pulling me back towards the softness of his chest. “As for your questions, I shall respect your wishes about distance and housing and labels, whatever they may be. That being said, as long as you’re still up for… this, as you put it, I will never deny you, no matter the distance. I would cross oceans for you,” 
A cum-drunk, half-asleep giggle escaped me as he nuzzled in, kissing my ear. 
“Thank you,” 
“No, thank you,” he matched my laughter with his own, “I believe this is what James would call post nut clarity,” 
“Now you ruined it!” I huffed. The faux anger only lasted a moment, though, before I was rolling to face him, cheek pressed to the soft, downy hair of his chest. “I love you, Helmut.” 
“I love you too, sweet girl. Now sleep. I’ll get up and deal with the dog once you’re resting,” 
For the first time in two years, I breathed in the scent of Helmut’s cologne before lapsing into a peaceful sleep.
---------
A/N: Thank you for reading! This is my first foray into smut in literal years, and it was literally all written within a 12 hour period, so I hope any mistakes weren't enough to take away from your enjoyment. Comments are always appreciated, but never expected. See you on the next authors note!
351 notes · View notes
somethingforsenro · 23 days
Text
splatoon without the splatoon
(the splatoon franchise without the new squidbeak splatoon)
so, i was scrolling through amino, the world's worst social media platform, when i found a very interesting question:
What would happen if the Squidbeak Splatoon disbanded after taking down Octavio during the events of Splatoon 1? Would that change anything down the road?
well, i looked at the comments and saw people basically all agreeing that it would be a complete and utter apocalypse. the world would end, like, three times over.
but if there's one thing i know about the internet, it's that people are stubborn little buggers who'll find their way around just about anything. so, i don't think that's right. i think life would find a way.
here's why.
‎‎
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~🐙~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
first of all, octo expansion wouldn't happen bc agent 3 wouldn't be there to fight eight before the dlc's start. in fact, eight might not be freed at all, because we know that only happened AFTER callie was brainwashed (just look at callie's mem cake in oe) and therefore happened during splatoon 2. i say ‘might not’ for a good reason, which i'll get to in a minute.
anyway, no 10008 means that tartar wouldn't find the perfect subject (at least, not with eight) and his plan would be delayed for the foreseeable future. that means octo expansion wouldn't happen, or at least wouldn't happen so soon; if it did eventually happen nonetheless, it's possible that the oe-equivalent protagonist of that timeline would find another way to stop tartar's plans, so i would hesitate to say that inkopolis is doomed in this scenario. i'll talk about that more in a minute, but first, let's get back to that ‘might not’ from earlier and have a chat about hero mode 2.
okay, hot take: even without squidbeak, i think callie would STILL be rescued either way, and the squid sisters would still perform the spicy calamari inkantation. squidbeak or no squidbeak, it's not like marie's just going to stand back and LET her cousin be kidnapped, and she still would have all the same information she does in the normal timeline. (we know that no one was around to help her when callie got kidnapped, so she figured it all out on her own.) she would still recruit agent four to help her (although she wouldn't give them that title or the agent uniform), and they would still rescue callie, so that happens more or less the same way.
however, cap'n cuttlefish and three still wouldn't be out there to fight octarians, so i still don't think oe would happen either way. that also means eight never loses their memories, never becomes a test subject, and never meets pearl or marina. even if you subscribe to the "agent eight is a clone/lab engineered" theory, then they would just wake up alone in the metro, be inducted as 10008, and then… (imho) not be special at all, because eight is only so successful through the help of pearl, marina, and cap'n cuttlefish, and pearl+marina only contact eight through the cap'n's phone. so, eight would still be a test subject, but probably wouldn't be exceptional.
but let's say you disagree. let's say they still WERE exceptional. well, then – they would just get blended and added to the ooze, at which point tartar would presumably create the perfect lifeforms as he planned. but since there's no eight escaping to the surface, he wouldn't have to resort to taking all the ooze he worked for 12,000 years to create and immediately blasting it out of the cannon. i theorize that he would invade inkopolis with the "Perfected Sanitized Army" first, and only use the mega death cannon as a last resort/when he's about to win, at which point pearl and marina would probably have figured out what was going on and take action on their own, eight or no eight.
so, all told, i don't think the world ends in splatoon 2. splatoon 3? well… let's have a look.
no cuttlefish means new 3 never checks out the manhole. there's no heroes looking for the great zapfish. so, the world is totally screwed, right? WRONG.
y'see, there is at least ONE person who exists independently of squidbeak, who also is an enemy of grizz from the start. ONE person who has ALSO lost something dear to them because of the bear's schemes, and who knew to go to the Crater and investigate more deeply. that person is none other than DJ fucking Octavio.
grizz stole his army, so he went to the crater – so CLEARLY he knew WHERE his troops went, he just didn't know who took them. in our timeline, he thought squidbeak did it, but here, because squidbeak doesn't exist, he knows there's something else afoot. he would take the refurbished octobot king out there, and because new 3 isn't clearing out the stages, he would see his fuzzified troops in full force crawling all over the crater. and octavio would be PISSED as HELL.
so, i theorize that octavio would be the protagonist of this alternate return of the mammalians. he would fight to free his people, fall/break into alterna, and beat up deep cut. he might humor them and give them the "treasure", he might not – if he didn't, they wouldn't show up to help him later on, but… that doesn't really matter.
either way, he'd eventually make it to the rocket, and just like in the original timeline, he'd go to space to fight grizz for the sake of his army and the entire world as he knew it. it would be a lot more drawn-out, but i think octavio COULD have taken grizz on his own, especially with the added motivation and anger he has in this timeline. so i say octavio beats grizz to a pulp, and the world is saved.
now, all that leaves is side order, so…
side order spoilers ahead. proceed with caution.
·
 ·
  ·
   ·
    ·  i can only make one read more,
     ·  so have this nice little
      ·  fancy divider!
       ·
        ·
         ·
          ·
           ·
            ·
             ·
              ·
               ·
                ·
                 ·
                  ·
                   ·
                    ·
                     ·
side order might still happen, because it's focused on pearl and marina, who aren't affected by the whole squidbeak thing. EDIT: however, as comments are reminding me, the memverse was made to cure sanitization. no oe means no experience with sanitization, no memverse, and no side order. if you think some variant of oe would still happen in the 6.5 years between s2 and side order, and pearl+marina would still be involved, then adapt accordingly.
but EVEN IF side order happened, because agent eight doesn't exist (or never met them, at least), there would be no side order protagonist. but – and this is gonna sound familiar at this point – that doesn't NECESSARILY mean order prevails, just that the fight is closer and takes a lot longer.
acht was fighting on their own before eight and pearl came. in OUR timeline, pearl spent a while trying to wake eight up while acht fought and got injured in the spire. but here, she doesn't have anyone to wait on, so she goes straight to the spire of order. it's possible, i think, for her to catch acht BEFORE their injury, and to give them the dualies and her support (after a confused argument, at least). i think acht could then beat the spire with pearl's help, freeing marina, and the rest would go on basically just like the dlc.
however, that one is DEFINITELY the most situational. there's no guarantee that pearl would be fast enough, and if acht WAS injured regardless, there wouldn't be anything to stop order. in that case, it would probably stay in control of marina for a lot longer, at least until acht healed (which could take weeks or even months).
even in THAT situation, acht would still eventually get back into fighting shape. but would they be too late to save marina? it's definitely possible. however, we DO know that greyscaling is reversible – eight managed it. so, it's POSSIBLE  that they could free marina, even in THIS timeline.
and even if they COULDN'T free marina, they could still free (almost) everyone else. marina would be gone, but they would most likely be able to take down order EVENTUALLY, if much slower.
the only real killstate there is if order managed to greyscale acht and pearl. and if you ask me, the two of them seemed pretty fine and dandy the whole time, especially pearl – i mean, this is MARINA'S simulation, after all, so she WOULD give the people she cared about some level of protection or even enhanced access. (acht might even be able to hack into the simulation a little, although she wouldn't be nearly as cracked at it as marina is.)
so, i don't think order would succeed either way – although it might permanently greyscale a considerable number of people, including marina and possibly four. (remember, marie still recruits four's help, even if she doesn't technically call them agent four. they wouldn't be called agent four, but they still exist.)
so, that's definitely a bit more dire than in the main timeline, at least – but far from apocalyptic, i'd say.
…except for pearl. pearl would be pretty fucked up.
92 notes · View notes
rassicas · 2 years
Note
Wait so were the rival octolings mind controlled trough the glasses or not?
nope. Ive gotten quite a few asks about this topic, understandably so! this is something Ive been kind of wanting to talk about in a video in depth, but putting it together cohesively is Hard and i wanna wait for Splatoon 3 to really clear things up with Octavio. anyway, ill try to put the evidence i got in this post. The idea that Octolings all wear mind-controlling eye wear is...basically just deeply rooted fanon. just because Octavio has a special pair for Callie, doesn't mean all Octolings are equipped with the same tech.
Tumblr media
look at that. goggles off, she wants it back. (art from the splatoon 1 end credits)
what we know about the Octoling's eyewear is that the red dot on terminator-style shades they wear in s2 is just a UI (i assume to aid them in combat).
Tumblr media
The S1 goggles are called something to the effect of 'Octoling Scope' in JP, which i believe implies they assist with aiming. Nothing has been said about their eyewear having mind-controlling properties. Additionally, the Octoling shades and goggles that we players can wear, unlike the agent gear, are not stated to be replicas. One may ask then, what's the deal with the Calamari Inkantation? with Callie being freed from her mind control by the Inkantation, plus lines like this:
Tumblr media
its easy to come to the conclusion that it's some mind-control breaking song. While it may have had that kind of effect on Callie, that's not really what the song does. As always, things got changed in localization. here's that above piece of dialogue, retranslated from japanese
Tumblr media
Different nuance there, no? The inkantation seems to be more like a song of inspiration and empowerment. it inspires some Octolings, who have spent their militaristic lives living in domes devoid of natural sunlight, to seek out something more. its moreso implied that the Octarians are fed propaganda and militarized from a young age: so the more realistic kind of brainwashing, and not outright scifi mind controlled like callie or agent 3 was. The Octolings in the military don't need goggles to mind-control them into following Octavio: they have a sense of loyalty towards his cause and their own kind. Octavio isnt the greatest guy, but he has a good reason to resent the Inklings: his people were forced underground, and he does what he does (stealing the Zapfish) to try and keep the crumbling Octarian domes, and his people, alive. Seems like a worthy cause to me. Another huge issue with the 'all Octolings have hypnotic eyewear' theory is this: after listening to the Inkantation, if the Octolings were to supposedly become aware that DJ Octavio was straight-up mind controlling them, then you would expect that they would hate his guts. The thing is though...they don't. Because they were never mind controlled. From both Marina and Agent 8, its implied that both of them still hold some respect for DJ Octavio despite leaving the Octarian world.   Exhibit A: 8's apologetic mem cake poem about Octavio
Tumblr media
Exhibit B: Marina's laptop covered in stickers. theres 3 squid sisters stickers, but alongside that are some Turquoise October stickers and a huge DJ Octavio sticker.
Tumblr media
if she really did hate him (which is something she has never expressed), i think she would put more effort into covering up or removing that sticker.
Ok there's my mountain of evidence to disprove the hypnotic eyewear theory! In short: Yes Octavio is controlling the Octarian populace, but only through propaganda and typical military control, and not literal sci-fi mind control.
2K notes · View notes
ghostlykeyes · 10 months
Note
aki w a housewife!s/o like a sweet wife he comes home to after a long day at work ! yknow :) someone to help him wind down with a nice home cooked meal <33
Aki
Aki isn't quite sure how he managed to obtain something so peaceful and domestic, but he cherishes you, and the home you two have created, a lot. The first thing he does each morning is roll over in bed and give you a kiss. He likes to wake up before you so that he can make the both of you breakfast (he knows that if he sleeps in, you'll beat him to it and he'll wake up to omurice in bed). Aki pours a cup of tea and you enjoy breakfast on the back deck, chatting quietly about your plans for the day while you watch the sun come up. He relishes this slice of domesticity he gets to experience with you each morning, before work shatters the illusion of peace.
He knows that you don't mind scrubbing the blood out of his button-downs or patching the holes torn in his pants, but Aki always keeps a spare change of clothes at work anyway. He doesn't want you to worry when you see how beat-up he gets at work sometimes. Obviously, he can't hide his injuries, but the ruined clothes—those he can hide. If they're easily salvageable he'll just bring it to a dry cleaner's, but if not, they go in the trash. He comes home with a scraped face but clean clothes, and he always shrugs and says he's just careful if you question it.
Someone gave you an apron as a wedding present and Aki thinks you look just adorable in it. Whenever you're in the kitchen, he always sneaks up behind you and undoes the knot to tease you.
Aki appreciates everything you do for him, but above all else he loves when there's a warm bath ready for him after he stumbles home from a stressful day. If he calls you during his lunch, already sounding ragged at noon, you know just what to do. By the time he's home, you've gotten a lavish bath ready for him--candles, Epsom salts, soothing music, the whole nine yards. He takes a good ten minutes to just soak and decompress, and then Aki insists you get in with him.
It doesn't matter if you're the worst cook on planet Earth, Aki will still eat your dinner every night and swear to you that it's the best thing he's ever tasted. He knows the effort that cooking takes and he's not about to criticize you. (But, if you can't seem to make a boiled egg without...somehow...burning it, he may gently give you a few pointers in the kitchen.)
If you're a good cook, though, Aki lets you know it. There's never, ever leftovers from dinner and he always reaches for seconds or thirds.
Aki will love you forever if you meal prep for him. He doesn't mind eating out, but a home-cooked lunch always tastes better. If you really want to make him happy, include some sweets and a sticky note saying "You're the best! <3".
Aki's favorite excuse for avoiding social events is that you're at home, waiting for him with a nice dinner on the table. "Oh, no thanks," he says, whenever someone asks if he'd like to go for drinks or see a movie with a group of friends or coworkers. "My spouse and I already have dinner plans."
Even though you're at home taking care of the house while he works, Aki refuses to let you do all of the housework. "I live here too, dear," he points out if you protest when he starts wiping down the counters after dinner. "It's not fair to make you pick up after all of my messes."
Aki likes to leave little doodles on the grocery list for you. Typically, it's small things like hearts or short messages like 'Hope you're having a good day', and 'Your husband loves u!'. Once he got especially creative and drew an incredibly lopsided squid next to the bullet point for calamari. Amused, you keep the little scribble stuck to the fridge.
More often than not, Aki brings home flowers for you. It's a signal of his appreciation. Even if a handful of daisies isn't much, he doesn't like coming home empty-handed to a delicious meal on the table and a gorgeous spouse. Surely, he should have something to give in return. Smitten, you put the flowers in a vase and plop them in the center of the table so you can admire them while you eat.
Aki is absolutely besotted with you and will do literally anything you ask. After all, you've given him so much—a home, love, a sense of peace. And that's just the big things; considering the small, everyday gestures of care like clean, folded handkerchiefs, warm ramen, and soothing baths, makes him feel like he owes you the world. You'd like your feet rubbed? Aki's on his knees with a bottle of lotion. You see a shirt you like in a store window? He's already rifling through his pockets for his wallet. You'd like to take a trip with him? Just tell him when and where, and he'll do whatever it takes to get the time off from work.
271 notes · View notes
britany1997 · 10 months
Text
Ties That Bind
Part One
Tumblr media
Yandere Anakin Skywalker x Fem Jedi Reader
Surprise y’all! I’m so incredibly excited to share part one of this collab fic with @6lostgirl6 !!!! Sixx and I put equal work into this so please go and show her some love! I loved working with my bestie on this it was so fun and she’s so kind and encouraging❤️
Warnings: general yandere behavior, mentions of deaths
Dividers from @6lostgirl6
Tumblr media
Sweat pooled around Anakin as he sprang forward in bed, gasping in a haze of fear and anger. His head fell to his hands as he struggled to catch his breath.
Sleep had eluded him for months as every night ended the same, with visions of your corpse flashing through his tortured mind. 
Anakin discarded his blanket in frustration, grabbed your picture from his work bench, and sat on the floor to meditate. 
His brow furrowed as he attempted to squash his rage and uncertainty, to let them go and let the force fill him with the comfort he needed. 
But to let go of his emotion, would be to let go of you.
Though he mumbled to himself, ‘there is no emotion, there is peace, there is no passion, there is serenity,’ he couldn’t make himself believe that. You were his peace, you were his serenity.
He abandoned his meditation in a huff. Anakin liked to think he was a patient man, a good Jedi. Yet how could he sit back and do nothing? The visions would never stop, it was time to take matters into his own hands.
Despite his failures at meditating and stopping his mind from whirling, he was struck by a solution. He was deep in concentration, staring at the ground, your picture nestled against his uncovered chest.
The visions would undoubtedly stop if he could protect you and keep you safe from harm. What if the force hadn't been working against him after all? He was immediately filled with purpose, a fire in his eyes that couldn't ever be extinguished. He will defend you even if it means doing the unthinkable and abandoning the Jedi code. 
What other reason would there be besides protecting the one you loved the most, even if it required being selfish? Absolutely nothing was of greater significance than you, his long-time friend, whom he had been pining over for many years. The forbidden feelings he could no longer ignore. There was no greater reason, no other reason, than you. 
It was all for love. 
Tumblr media
Despite the summons from the Chancellor, Anakin thought the Galaxies Opera House was well worth the journey through Coruscant. Though the visions of your impending death haunted him, Squid Lake, a strange ballet performed by a team of Mon Calamari acrobats, calmed his worries and enabled his mind to focus on something far more pleasant. He wished he could take you to one as lovers rather than as companions one day once you are away from harm. The Chancellor, however, required his attention once more.
His eyes were focused ahead as he said, "The Sith and the Jedi are similar in almost every way, including their quest for greater power." The Chancellor’s face bore a deep and serious expression.
“The Sith rely on their passion for their strength; they think inwards, only about themselves.” Anakin answered back firmly, turning his head towards him as he spoke.
“And the Jedi don’t?” asked the Chancellor, turning his attention towards Anakin without wavering, his eyes never leaving his face.
“The Jedi are selfless, they only care about others.” Anakin spoke strongly, turning his attention forward, just before the Chancellor continued to speak, making Anakin's blood run cold.
“Although they prevent you from loving freely in accordance with your own desires. They would never approve of your love for your friend or the things you would do for her.” He spoke with a voice filled with stomach-churning truth. “Your companion, (Y/N).”
Anakin turned to face the older man, his eyes wide with surprise as he whispered quietly. "How did you know-"
"I know many things, Anakin." He responded. "You say they are selfless and care about others. But what would the council say if they learned of your hidden desires, your affection that you have for your fellow Jedi?" 
For once, Anakin couldn't speak because the Chancellor's words struck him deeply. His eyes were fixed on the opera playing ahead of him as he slowly sunk into his chair. He wasn't watching the event, though; instead, he was fixated on his thoughts, his visions of your approaching demise, and the possibility that the council would learn of his feelings for you. They'd shun him. He couldn't save you if they were in the way. His heart was pounding, and his mind was racing. 
It was the Chancellor's voice that silenced his racing thoughts. 
“You ever hear the tragedy of Darth Plagueis the wise?” 
No, he would not let them stop him from loving you, from saving you.
Tumblr media
Your saber clashed against Anakin’s as you traded swipes back and forth. He smirked as you narrowly missed his shoulder. You stuck out your tongue in reply.
It’d probably be easier to spar with someone else, you and Anakin had trained together as Padawans, practically grown up together. He knew every move you’d make before you could even think to make it. But, unfortunately for him, you could anticipate his every move as well.
You leaped as he swiped his saber at your feet, “missed again Ani,” you teased. You noticed a strange expression cross his face when you uttered his name, but it quickly vanished.
“You’re lucky today,” he smirked, “but luck runs out.” Anakin swiped his foot behind yours, causing you to tumble onto your back, he stood over you, lightsaber pointed towards your chest. 
You groaned, “fine, I yield.”
He chuckled as he switched his weapon off and offered you his arm to pull you to your feet. “Better luck next time?” he teased. 
“Ha ha,” you mumbled humorlessly, as you allowed him to pull you up.
"Let's not pretend you didn't cheat, Ani." You continued jokingly. You leaned over to grab your fallen lightsaber when you failed to notice the unknown expression resurfacing on his face. However, it did not completely disappear, his darkening eyes fixated on your body, images racing through his mind of scenarios unsuitable for a Jedi.
He adored it when you addressed him as such. 
His expression returned to normal as you straightened up, and he had a mischievous smile on his face once again. "Never, ever underestimate your opponent." He chuckled as he extinguished his lightsaber and attached the hilt to his belt.
“Yeah, Yeah.” You replied, the smile refusing to vanish from your expression. 
"Come now; I only tease." Anakin remarked softly, staring at you with a more genuine smile, one that could compete with the sun if he so desired. Since you were both padawans, he has consistently been an enchanting man. He had a way of charming himself out of most trouble and making one's heart feel like it was going to burst.
This was a secret you kept hidden within your heart for many years, the sentiments you had for Anakin that were more than just friendship. However, according to the Jedi code and attachment regulations, you did everything you could to drive those emotions away. Your feelings got less difficult to disguise as you practiced meditation and late-night self-reflection. In addition, you knew in your core that Anakin was an exceptionally gifted Jedi and that your affections for him were never going to be reciprocated. 
“Everything alright?” 
You recovered from your subconscious, glancing at Anakin as he stood directly in front of you, his eyebrows furrowed in slight concern. 
"Yes, I'm sorry." You replied before reactivating your lightsaber, your eyes bright with purpose and your smile returning. "Let's continue."
After many long hours of trading blows, you and Anakin were huffing, your foreheads drenched with sweat. 
“Call it a night?” you asked as Anakin wiped his brow clean. 
“Mhmm,” he hummed in reply, “it’s late, want an escort back to your quarters?”
You laughed. He didn’t. 
“No Ani it’s fine,” you promised, “I think I can manage the couple of steps it takes to get there.”
“It’s on my way anyway,” he protested.
You shot him a confused expression, “on your way to where?” 
“To the archives,” he told you nonchalantly, “I needed to look into something.”
Your brow furrowed, “look into what?”
He groaned, tugging gently at your arm, “just let me escort you.”
“Fine, fine,” you reluctantly caved.
He offered you his shoulder, a smirk painted on his face. You scoffed and punched his arm instead, causing a soft laugh to fall from his lips. 
He smiled and shook his head at your stubbornness, you never made anything easy. But it didn’t matter, he’d never been one to back down from a challenge.
The walk to your quarters passed quickly as you exchanged stories with Anakin. You clutched your stomach as tears rolled down your cheeks as he told you the story of his last battle with General Grevious. Anakin had spent so much time with Obi Wan over the years, Anakin’s impression of his sarcastic banter was spot on.
“Well this is me,” you joked, gesturing to your door. Anakin nodded but didn’t move to head towards the archives. 
Your brow furrowed in confusion, “…so I’ll see you tomorrow?” 
He seemed to snap from his momentary trance, “yes of course,” Anakin hesitated, “do you need anything else before I go?”
Your head cocked to one side, “no, not really.” 
Walking you to your room had been strange in itself, this was ridiculous. “Ani…” you bit your lip, “are you ok?”
Anakin seemed taken aback by your sudden question, “of course,” he composed himself, “I better be off to the archives, I’ll see you for training in the morning.”
You watched him walk off before slipping into your room. You sat down to meditate, but you couldn’t rid your mind of Anakin’s weird behavior. Something wasn’t right. 
You sighed, coming to terms with the fact that you would not be one with the force tonight and crawling into bed. As you drifted to sleep a thought popped into your head.
Weren’t the archives in the opposite direction?
Tumblr media
Anakin sent a glass flying into his wall in frustration. He watched as it shattered, spraying shards onto the floor around his work desk. 
He threw his head into his hands. He could monopolize your training time, walk you to your quarters every night, wake up early to be at your door every morning.
But it would only take one second, one second where he left you alone, one second where he wasn’t right by your side, one second and you were gone forever. 
If he balled his fists any harder, his fingernails would slice the skin. He knew what he had to do. You might hate him for a moment, but he could live with that.
But if you died? There was no living if not with you.
Tumblr media
The Jedi Temple was destroyed.
Your fellow Jedi were slaughtered in cold blood. 
You could feel your heart frantically beating as you rushed through the halls of pure massacre, the walls forever tarnished by the horrors that had been committed. Fellow Jedi that you’ve trained with are lying on the floor lifeless, and some are in cauterized pieces. You felt like you could throw up at any moment, the hilt of your lightsaber held in your shaky grasp. You were in a state of delirium; your thoughts were filled with dueling lightsabers and people screaming in fear. However, there was one thing that was absolutely certain.
You needed to find Anakin.
‘Please, let him be safe.’ You thought to yourself as you managed to turn a corner, your other hand gripping your ribcage, your heart threatening to explode. ‘By the force, please protect him.’ 
You were anxious to find him, yet filled with dread. Your mind was racing with images of his form in pieces, his eyes lifeless without any warmth. It almost made the journey too much to bear. 
You rounded another corner that led towards the entrance of one of the temple’s many great halls. As you pushed through the entrance, a heavy feeling filled your chest, and you were completely unable to go any further. Your eyes were wide, and you could feel your breath failing you. 
As you gazed into the distance, you noticed a familiar figure, clad in a brown robe with a hood covering his face, that you had never failed to recognize, even at a distance. As the figure walked towards you, a large group of clone soldiers followed behind him, weapons drawn. In his hand was his own lightsaber, which he clutched tightly in his grasp.
Anakin.
"Ani!” You cried, disengaging your lightsaber and rushing towards him with tears in your eyes, prepared and ready to meet him with a sense of relief. 
You threw your arms around him, tears rolling down your face as you sobbed. He returned your embrace, arms wrapping around the small of your back, pulling you into his chest.
“Ani,” you muttered between sobs, “I’m so glad you’re ok, I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”
He tightened his grip on your waist, holding you close, “I know what you mean…”
You sniffled as you tried to gather yourself, “Anakin, so many lives…” you hiccuped, “what happened.”
“Only what needed to.”
“What?” you exclaimed as you looked up to meet his eyes. 
The sight of his blood stained face made you gasp. No. This wasn’t the Anakin you knew. This couldn’t be happening.
But it was. The man you’d carried a torch for all these years, your best friend and confidant, stood before you, clothed in the blood of your friends.
You pushed against his chest, trying to escape from his grasp but he refused to let you go. He held you tightly against him with one arm, using his other hand to brush hair from your face affectionately. A gesture that once would have made you blush now filled you with malice.
“I know you don’t understand now, but you will my love,” he whispered, “now sleep.”
“Anakin…no…” you fought a losing battle to keep your eyes open. You were strong in the force, but Anakin was stronger.
Your head lulled to the side as you fell asleep in his arms.
Tumblr media
Taglist❤️:
@misslavenderlady @pixielostboy @dwaynesluscioushair @arbesa-mind @hallotonia @anna1306 @bookworm551 @flower-crowned-lady @bloodywickedvamp @lostboys1987girl @kurt-nightcrawler @dwaynedelight @rynsfandomsfun @ghoulgeousimmaculate @walmartfairy69 @bitchyexpertprincess @arenpath @warrior-616 @ria-coolgirl
327 notes · View notes
danisha-tdh · 22 days
Text
A lot of things I got dragged into sploon, no matter how I enjoying Salmon run (because teamwork and fun day)
So I decided to draw the content
Here's line up agent in my design looks-
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Just for the toon style looks, so here's a hcs for each agents:
(Long words)
Trapper, 22 y/o [Species: Octoling??]
Trapper is not just an octoling, he was used to be one of the Kamabo experiment no.5150. Because he was saved by her adoptive mother, Ellie, he always have to hide his identity in the event of Splatoon 1. He doesn't know much about Dj Octavio and the Octarians clan, but he seems interested until the event of Splatoon 3. He doesn't talk, but he can use sign language (it's a sign that he's mute as always and it's because his voice is very likely to human languages and has no bubble effects in it like the other octolings. He's not an only child he was raised by her own mother, he has a sister, Veronika. He doesn't trust the Kamabo or Commander Tartar. He has a strong relationship with Four, but now he miss her (since they became separated and getting worried about her). And also, he's a gardener.
Veronika, 14(splat 3) - 16(now) y/o [Inkling]
She's a little feral and always care for his older brother. Never been join Grizzco industries because her little salmon buddy is afraid of the boss himself. She's a huge fan of Pearl from the Off the Hook. She interested any type of weapons and a mechanic engineer. Being forced to washed herself, since she's smell like fishes belongs in the sea. She's also a best friend of Murch. If you mess with Trapper, you mess with her (she'll forced you to drop yourself in the sea as an threat or eats gross food).
Agent/Captain 3 [No name], 21 y/o [Inkling]
Has slowly lost their original name and gender. Became tired and depressed because of the Octo expansion event, but still smiles when think about the past what they used to. They like Naomi as a close friend. rarely talks and type of introvert person. Doesn't want to talk about Deepsea Metro (they have PTSD). They can rap since they known as DJ Sango. Get along with the Squid sisters, even they stay as their part of the family. Always support other Agents no matter what and only the mysterious agent among others.
Surume/Four, 23 y/o [Inkling]
A great agent who always very positive and an extrovert person. She always like Trapper, who are very close to her (both always think about each other since they were separated from different city). She was busy due to an extracurricular, and a roommates with Hachi and Naomi. Four really care about Trapper's feeling for her if he's not in a good mood. She loves biology to know about sea creatures and even mammals, including plants. She's shorter than other agents.
Hachi/Eight, 21 y/o [Octoling]
An agent who is only one was escaped from the Deepsea Metro with his sister, Naomi. He doesn't get recover his traumatic experience back there, but always finds a way to avoid it. Kind to anyone, likes other agents. He doesn't know about Trapper, but he interested to meet him. Confidence to find answers. He's afraid of C.Q Cumber. When he's stares at you, it can tell he looks like a little puppy. He and Naomi lives with the Off the Hook as like their parent figure. Always protect his sister.
Naomi/Eight, 19 y/o [Octoling]
She's a bit shy and a fan of the Squid sisters after the effects of the Calamari Inkatation. She likes Cap 3 about their skills and being cool. She's barely talks, but always needs a help from her brother. She kinda loves the beautiful view around the new city or places she wants to travel. She's having a fear of Blender and being lonely without her brother or someone. She likes doing art and doodles on her sketch she bought in the surface. She always sticks with her brother since she doesn't want to get separated. And a friend of Four.
Welp that's all the hcs I have for my agents. Most of them are similar the canon splatoon facts. And here's the base of the body type looks
Tumblr media Tumblr media
And bonus for Trapper in agent outfit:
Tumblr media
52 notes · View notes
Text
I just noticed something about the Spicy Calamari Inkantation- specifically- and I've checked it over with both the S1 and 3MIX versions.
The song has an absolutely banger intro, right? But I noticed something. Literally right when the Squid Sisters start singing, you can hear a droning sound that's a little like an alarm. It's part of what makes that intro so insanely good.
Taking us back to S2's Octavio bossfight, we can remember two things: 1, the Octarians know that the Calamari Inkantation has the ability to make soldiers defect. And 2, the bossfight took place in a concert hall right in Octarian base turf. So it'd make sense that especially in a music hall, the song would be cause for alarm- get out of hearing range, it's not going to be good. But Octavio isn't immune either. Hence why he sounds the alarm, but it only plays a few times before fading off as the song really kicks in and Octavio submits to it (and refocuses on Agent Four beating his ass with the Dualies... Or whatever weapon they're fighting him with in their attempts to 100% their own missions). From there, the alarms stop entirely- for better or worse, the Squid Sisters have control of the aux cord, so to speak, and the song is going full steam ahead.
Huh. Makes sense, but how come I never noticed it before???
49 notes · View notes
Text
—gilbert spoilers, be aware—
Emma: Gil, I've noticed there's very little seafood in Obsidian.
Gilbert: (sets his research away) That's correct. What little we have comes from our lakes, and it's still too much of a hassle for us to consider importing. (He pats his lap)
Emma: (sets the giant tray of cookies down on his desk before plopping onto his lap) So people here have never had calamari?
Gilbert: (wraps his arms around her waist) Mmm, I'm sure people in certain circles have. I think they served it once during a ball in my youth. (He opens his mouth as Emma begins feeding him)
Emma: (pauses) Ah. I'm guessing those particular circles are... no longer around?
Gilbert: (smiles meaningfully) You catch on quick. (He pecks the cookie out of her hand and speaks while chewing.) Our aquaculture industry is far better than it was five or six years ago. Actually, I've thought about engineering our own species of squid.
Emma: Uh... what? Engineering? (She uses her fingertip to dab away some crumbs on his lip)
Gilbert: (watches her delightedly knowing that she's expecting him to bite any moment now) Hehe, indeed. I'm sure you've noticed while cooking here that not everything we grow is native to Obsidian.
Emma: (still on guard as she withdraws her finger without incident) Well, breeding and cultivating is one thing, but you said engineering. Like making something from scratch. Making meat, erm, I guess seafood. In a lab. Gil, I've never heard of anyone doing something like that outside of horror novels.
Gilbert: Little Rabbit. (He places a cool hand on her head and gives it a single pat) What's more horrible to you? Creating food or being without it?
Emma: (stares at him because he's clearly oversimplifying things)
Gilbert: (stares back with a pleasant smile, sunny as can be)
Emma: ...
Gilbert: ...
Emma: ......
Gilbert: ......
Emma: (epiphany)
Gilbert: (widens his smile, showing teeth)
Emma: So all the beef, the pork... The meat I've been baking into your cookies... (stares at the cookie in her hand as Gilbert's shadow covers her entire arm)
Gilbert: Hehe, not all of it, of course. But a country like Obsidian could hardly have come back from a famine as quickly as we did without some help.
Emma: (looks at Gilbert with a mixture of fear and awe; tries to only feel the awe)
Gilbert: (bittersweet pout) There's a certain principle that says that anything that can go wrong will go wrong at some point. You could call it the burden of the scientist. Knowing the worst-case scenario is only one mishap away, but also knowing that you can save ten-thousand people today. Oh—but as the evil villain, I've always pushed boundaries to satisfy my own curiosity.
Emma: (remembers what Roderich once said to her)
Gilbert: Ahaha, whaaat?
Emma: (looks him in the eye sincerely) I hate lies, you know.
Gilbert: ...!
Emma: (heaves a long sigh and then suddenly pushes a cookie into Gilbert's mouth) Despite what you say, I don't think you've ever really stopped to appreciate everything you're capable of, and everything, all the good that you've done.
Gilbert: (tries to speak but Emma silences him by partially covering his mouth with hers for a split second)
Emma: (pulls away with half the cookie in her mouth and a sad smile) The meat here in Obsidian is the best I've ever had. What hurts me is that I might have gone on without ever knowing just how thoroughly you've tread over every facet of my day-to-day life. Not just my life, but everyone's.
Emma: (chews cutely as she rests her head on his shoulder) What's horrible to me is not knowing how radiant you are.
a/n: i know jack shit about growing meat in a lab and i was too lazy to google soooo. also i remembered that the meat cookies emma starts making for gil are made using the meat from obsidian military rations, at least initially, ahaha ^^; emma didn't particularly care for the taste of the rations on the occasion(s) when she tried them, sooooo. but let's pretend she made her own jerky from Obsidian Beef to put into the cookies in this fic lol
99 notes · View notes
colorfuldream · 1 month
Text
Small pet peeves after the new art for the Japanese Splatfest came out: why is Frye NEVER in any indian-inspired clothing?? Shiver almost always is. It's not that Frye is any less traditional, we see her reference splastlandian traditions more often than the two others.
Would it kill them to have her have any item that references the culture she's based on...? I get it'd be harder for Big Man because he's a manta but even a small accessory or item near him would work.
That's something that also shows in their in-game songs. Most of them are generic pop, it's the live arrangements that bring back some of their unique sounds. Still, the Japanese inspirations are stronger, partly because Shiver always has more focus so her enka singing style is front and center. Daybreaker Anthem was a nice change of pace but the only live rendition of Calamari Inkantation 3mix has the Deep Cut part cut out... With the one moment where Frye's harmonies are Indian-inspired. I know the goal was to give the Squid Sisters more time in the song, because they always throw Deep Cut to the side in favor of the previous idols, but damnit for once we got a cool Deep Cut moment and something that brought out all the different cultures that inspired the characters at once...
The latest concert remedied that with the new arrangements but I can't help but think that visually, the team hasn't been it
From the artbook, we know how much was lost and how watered down the designs were but ffs Shiver is still shown on promotional material with a clear Japanese influence. Maybe Frye likes more modern styles but you can't tell me that gremlin wouldn't rep some traditional clothing or try to put a modern spin on it (contrasting with Shiver who doesn't). I get that dynamic from Callie and Marie. Both are from a more japanese-like area and Marie likes the aesthetic or her culture in general more while Callie just follows modern trends. It works because both have the SAME culture. With Shiver and Frye, it feels like one's culture is erased or pushed aside in favor of the other.
Idk, maybe they wanted one to be more modern à la Squid Sisters but bigger. Maybe they don't really dare show anything other than Japanese culture. But in the end, that just really sucks. Her strong japanese focus also makes Shiver stand out among the idols, doing the same for the other two members would help the trio in general have something that sets them out
Just rambling here
30 notes · View notes
tcwmatchmakingau · 8 months
Text
The Sixth Language (part 2)
Pairing: Waxer x Fem!Reader (single parent)
Rating: T 
Wordcount: 2.1k
Warnings and tags: pure fluff; smooching; Star Wars politics; reader is a foodie; DJ don’t philosophize about food for one kriffing fic challenge (impossible)
Read the full series: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5
Tumblr media
You and Waxer exchange countless comm messages over the next few days, and he is relentlessly charming. He sends you silly holovids of tookas, terrible puns, and descriptions of his brothers’ ridiculous antics. As you get to know him better, you look forward to hearing the chime of your commlink, and you always check it as soon as you hear a message arrive. Nyra notices your distraction at work, but she wisely says nothing, merely looking smug when she catches you with a dreamy smile on your face.
Your second date is in Little Mon Cala, as planned. You meet up on the mid levels of Coruscant and wander through the quarter, admiring the way the Mon Calamari and Quarren who live here have adapted the buildings to survive away from their oceanic homeworld. Seawater fills gargantuan tanks of transparisteel, where aquatic plants and fish sway and swirl through them in hypnotic motions, and every so often, a Quarren or Mon Calamari swims by with effortless grace.
The air is dense and humid, and the scent of saltwater mingles with that of wet plastcrete and speeder exhaust. The walkways here are never dry. Even when Coruscant’s planetary climate control system isn’t dumping rain on the city, a glossy film of water covers the ground, and small puddles collect in the depressions and uneven spots. The vast tanks have a series of tunnels running through them for non-marine beings to navigate the district, and the light that filters through the water tanks casts a soft blue glow on all the beings making their way through the tunnels.
Waxer loves it.
“I came from an oceanic planet, but it wasn’t like this at all,” he says. “I’ve heard rumors that there were tunnels under Tipoca City, but I never saw them myself. Not sure if they’re even real.”
He stares, transfixed, as a star squid drifts by the glassy wall of the tunnel, and his hand rises slowly toward it. He catches himself before he touches the transparisteel, though, and turns to you with a self-deprecating smile. He takes your hand in his and holds it—to keep you from slipping on the wet paths, he says—as the two of you continue your walk through the district, taking your time and admiring the sights, before heading to one of your favorite restaurants in the whole ecumenopolis.
The owner of the restaurant is a delightful Mon Calamari woman named Pashna who came to Coruscant as a refugee during the war. When you lead Waxer into the restaurant, she calls out your name immediately.
“There’s my favorite girl!” she says, pulling you in for a tight hug. Pashna gives the best hugs: the kind that envelops you in a safe cocoon of affection that feels like home. “How have you been, dear? And who is this handsome fellow? I haven’t seen you with a boy before.”
“Pashna, this is Waxer,” you introduce them.
“Pleased to meet you, ma’am,” he says politely.
“A clone trooper!” Pashna exclaims delightedly, nudging an elbow into your side. “You clever girl, I didn’t know you had it in you! I’d find a trooper myself if I were about five decades younger. You know, this man saved my planet during our civil war. He’s quite a hero.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” he says with an embarrassed expression, “but I didn’t serve at Mon Cala; my battalion was deployed elsewhere at the time.”
“Well, either way, the galaxy owes you a debt we can never repay,” she replies. “Your meal is on the house, as a small token of my gratitude.”
“Oh, no, ma’am, that’s not necessary!” Waxer says, alarmed. “I couldn’t possibly—”
“Nonsense, young man,” she chuckles. “The best thing about owning my own restaurant is that I get to call the shots.”
Waxer tries to argue, but Pashna pretends not to hear him as she saunters away from your table. He looks comically stunned, and you laugh at his expression.
“I take it that doesn’t happen often?” you ask.
“More like never,” he replies. “A lot of people blame us clones for the war.”
“That’s ridiculous!” you object. “You didn’t even have a choice to fight. They should be directing that anger towards voting in new senators, if they have such a strong opinion.”
Waxer looks thoughtful. “It’s strange to think I’ll actually be able to vote in the next election. I didn’t think that would ever happen.”
“I’m glad it’s finally happening,” you reply. “I just wish it could have been sooner.”
He nods in acknowledgement, but he changes the subject. “So, what’s good here?”
“Everything!” you exclaim. “The chowder is amazing, but the yobshrimp à la Devaron is fantastic if you like spicy food, and the grilled octopod comes with an aioli that will change your life. Ohhh, and they have an opee bisque that’s served in a fresh choya bread bowl, and the Berbersian crab salad is delicious if you want something lighter—what are you laughing at?”
“Sorry,” he chuckles. “I’ve just never seen anyone get that excited about food before.”
“Well, once you taste the food here, you might be just as enthusiastic,” you say with a grin.
“Maybe,” he says. “I’ve been eating rations and mess hall food for most of my life. It’s only the past year that I’ve really had an opportunity to try anything else.”
“Is that why you wanted to try all the different samples at the market?” you ask.
“Yeah, I guess I wanted to figure out what I liked.”
“And did you?” you ask.
He meets your eyes with a small smile. “Yeah, I did.”
The warmth in his eyes makes your heart thump painfully hard, and you take a deep breath to try to calm it. Your brain absolutely refuses to formulate a response, so you end up just staring back at him, hoping the stars in your eyes aren’t too obvious.
“What about you?” he asks. “Why do you love food so much?”
You think about the question for a moment before you reply. “Food connects us all. It’s something we all have in common, whether we’re human, or Mon Calamari, or Zabrak, or any other species. We all need to eat, and we’ve all developed our unique cuisines that tie us to our cultures and our homes, and even when we have to leave everything else behind, our food is what we take with us.”
“Like Pashna did,” he says.
“Yes,” you say. “She lost everything on Mon Cala, and when she came to Coruscant, she had to start all over. She told me once that when someone comes to the restaurant to eat her food, it’s an opportunity for her to communicate without words—a way that transcends language. Does that make sense?”
“I think so,” he says, a slight wrinkle between his eyebrows. “You’re saying that food brings us together.”
“Exactly,” you say. “Even bad food; how many times have you complained with other troopers about bland rations?”
“Every single day,” he laughs.
“I can imagine,” you smile. “For me, cooking is an act of love. It’s not just about providing for my loved ones’ physical needs; it’s a way to show them how much I care.”
“I hadn’t really thought about it like that,” Waxer said. “I don’t think the mess hall droids care much about us.”
Your heart twists. At every turn, you’re reminded of how different Waxer’s experience has been from yours, and yet despite all of the hardships he’s endured, he remains the kindest, gentlest man you’ve ever met.
“Well, that changes tonight,” you say. “Because Pashna definitely cares, and so do I.”
In fact, Pashna doesn’t even let the two of you order. Instead, she sends out a parade of food from the kitchen—small portions of everything on the menu so Waxer can try it all. By the time the meal is over, both of you are so full you can barely breathe, and Waxer has an expression of pure bliss on his face. You try to sneak payment into the server’s hands, but Pashna catches you and scolds you. 
“Don’t even try it, young lady,” she says as though you aren’t a whole-ass adult with a child of your own. “And you, young man, be sure to come back and visit me again soon. Bring a few of your friends with you. Maybe I’m not too old to settle down with a nice trooper after all!”
After Pashna hugs you goodbye, she pulls Waxer into one of her tight embraces, and when she lets him go, he looks a little dazed.
“Take good care of my girls,” Pashna tells him.
You suck in a quiet breath as you dart a glance at Waxer to see if he noticed the plural, but nothing seems amiss as the two of you leave the restaurant.
“I can’t wait to tell my brothers about this place,” he says. “Pashna is amazing. Do you think she would adopt me?”
“I think she unofficially adopts everyone she meets,” you reply. 
Waxer takes your hand again, and a warm glow of contentment settles over you. You find yourself stealing glances at him, admiring the way the azure light catches the planes of his face, emphasizing his high cheekbones and lovely, broad nose. In the dimness, his warm brown eyes are almost black, and when he catches you staring, you nearly fall into their depths.
“Did you enjoy the meal?” you ask, scrambling to mask your confusion.
“It was the best thing I’ve ever eaten,” he says. “I wish I knew how to cook so I could eat food like that whenever I want.”
“I could teach you, if you’d like,” you offer tentatively. “I’m no chef like Pashna, but I could show you the basics. No pressure, of course, but—”
“I would love that!” he exclaims. “When can we start?”
You consider for a moment. “What about Benduday? We could meet up at the market again, shop for groceries, and then go back to my place and cook dinner?”
“That’s the best offer I’ve heard in years,” Waxer says, his face alight with a beaming smile. “Thank you!”
The two of you wind your way back through the subaquatic tunnels until you reach a landing platform, where you hail a taxi.
“Need a lift?” you offer.
“No, thanks; I rode a speeder bike,” Waxer replies.
“I guess this is good night, then,” you say, gazing up into his eyes.
“I had an amazing time,” he says.
“Me, too,” you reply. “I can’t wait for Benduday.”
His eyes flicker almost imperceptibly to your lips, and he swallows. “Yeah, me either.”
He starts to step back to help you into the air taxi, and—
“Kriff it,” you say.
You collide into him with a kiss, flinging your arms around his shoulders as your lips meet his. You feel his hands settle on your waist before they slide around your back and pull you hard against him. His lips are soft and warm against yours, and you brush the tip of your tongue experimentally across them. He groans quietly and opens to let you in, your tongues sliding together as you taste and explore each other’s mouths. You run your hand up the back of his head and feel the soft, velvety prickle of his hair as your bodies mold to each other.
“Hey lady, ya want a ride, or are ya just gonna stand there and suck his face all night?” the taxi driver demands irritably.
Waxer breaks the kiss reluctantly and raises an eyebrow at the driver. “Really, man?”
The driver mutters under his breath, and you huff out a small laugh. “I guess that’s my cue. I’ll see you Benduday?”
He nods, and you give him a quick kiss on the cheek. If you’re honest with yourself, you admit that you want to ask him to come back to your apartment with you, but Kaia is there with the sitter, and you reluctantly accept that it’s not going to happen tonight. So you bid him good night and step into the taxi, doing your best to ignore the quiet voice in your head that whispers that you made a huge mistake in not telling him about Kaia in the first place. You weren’t expecting to fall so hard, so fast, and you are terrified by the thought that he might not feel the same way once he discovers your lie of omission.
Benduday, you resolve. I’ll tell him on Benduday.
Second A/N: the title is a reference to the idea that food is the sixth love language.
Tagging: @blueink-bluesoul @secondaryrealm @spicy-clones @wings-and-beskar @523rdrebel @goblininawig @merkitty49 @anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @arcsimper5 @starrylothcat @clio3kantarella @cloneloverrrrr
58 notes · View notes
justanothersquidblog · 4 months
Note
what were each of the idols childhoods like?
Hmm well Marie and Callie shared the same sorta childhood! As the way I write their family is that, Marie's parents Nori and Don and Callie's mom Umi raised them together! Umi needed helped after all, and so Callie and Marie were inseparable- and would have lots of shenanigans out in Calamari County. Every time Craig would visit, they would tackle him and beg for stories and stuff- which would result in Callie getting recruited at Agent 1.
As for Pearl- Her stage dialogue is always mentioning her dad but not her mom. So I imagine either her mom is dead, or just, out of the picture. I'd like to think her and her dad got/get along quite well though! And despite being busy he tried to spend as much time with her as possible. However, I'd also like to imagine he spoiled her rotten as a result so she was a bit of a brat as a little squid- and with her superpowered voice, this made tantrums a bit terrifying for the poor fella. I'd like to think the brattiness wore off when she lost that singing contest though. A humbling moment.
Marina- well she was in the army. She mentions nothing of her parents ever so I go with the hc that she might've been separated from them pretty early as her prodigy work took her places in the octarian military? But also thanks to her prowess her family got to be taken up to better places as well, so a bit more pressure to do well? I dunno. I think Marina was forced to grow up a little fast and I think thats sad but yknow, suitably tragic.
Big Man I think was also a little prodigy boy. Just, like when you seen 9 year olds playing perfectly on the piano. He was also a Big Mamas boy too yknow. Like he and his dad get along splendidly but he loved his mom a lot. He'd have lots of movie nights with her, and now that she's passed, he has those movie nights with his dad now.
Shiver I imagine flip flopped between attempts at responsibility vs "oh god this kid is definitely going to jail in the future". Like, they'd practice all their family's traditions and then when everyone's backs were turned, they'd run off to go learn how to gamble from an elder. However the need to uphold these traditions and this aura of 'good heir to the clan' would eventually eat at Shiver until middle school where they decide to be silly and goofy again.
Frye had to take care of her siblings a lot, this we know from canon. But she also was swamped with dance classes too- and probably other things to learn from her clan. I'd like to think this frustrated her a bit as a kid, but her grandparents were able to help balance the work out with her- her grandpa being a bit of a bad influence and being like "if your parents get to skip out on their responsibilities once in a while to do something happy you should too!" causing Frye's streak of skipping out on her dance classes to occur. She'd never skip out on her siblings though, which helped brew a very subtle yet genuine feel for what 'someone in charge' should do.
41 notes · View notes
gingergari · 5 months
Text
guess who finished talia’s ref/propaganda post!
Tumblr media
talia is one of my oldest splat ocs (both in creation age [july 2016] and character age at 24) and honestly not much has changed about his design since i made her! the main difference is literally just some fun new piercings and a lgbt pass
@splatoonpolls :]
talia is 5’10” and the middle child in his family! he has one older sister (taller still, a firefighter named moselle) and one younger sister (ren, new ranked battler) and they all come from calamari county where they were primarily raised by their mother :]
he moved to inkopolis at 15 to get into turf + to try to meet the squid sisters since they’re from the same area! there, he met peri, and they became roommates for about a year before they started dating
talia is highly money motivated mostly because she wants to make sure ren and her mother especially can live an easy life. she also wants to do something good with her life like moselle, who she looks up to as a hero.
sooo after a couple of years turfing with peri (an e-liter main) and working part time at the crust bucket, grizzco opened and the two decided to check it out!
turns out they’re very good at it + get paid very well as a result so that quickly becomes their priority and are very consistently ranked at profreshional
talia believes he’s doing something good to help out both mr. grizz and inkadia so he’s happy
after a while, grizzco’s splatlands branch opened and the two were forcibly relocated invited to move to the splatlands to help out with egg retrieval and training, and subsequently hit eggsecutive vp with victoria and fiorello in their now complete quad
talia knows jacinthe (my agent 3) but at the moment he does not know anything about the true nature of grizzco.
talia is a very trusting person and will typically take whats in front of him at face value. as mentioned before, she’s very tall and is pretty loud/high energy, so can be unintentionally overbearing when meeting new people. he also has the worst name memory ever so will typically nickname everyone he meets to something he can easily remember (peri is a nickname! jury’s out if he remembers her actual name) such as eggs for victoria and safety for fiorello. however, talia is very afraid of being perceived as a rude person, so tries very hard to be seen as the opposite, typically with gifts. can be unexpectedly emotional—cried over clam mochi being different when homesick, whenever big man loses, etc
her favorite idol in the splatlands is big man because she feels like she relates the best to him (and often feels sorry for him). his favorite splatbands are diss pair and front roe, but feels no connection to squid squad.
splatfest wise, he will consider his favorite idol’s alignment first before his own preferences. ex. he’s terrified of ghosts but likely will be on big man’s team for splatoween
in my imagination, his tentacles are box braids in human form :]
splashtag maker 👍🏽
27 notes · View notes