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anonymous-dentist · 2 days

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Part Ten of the Catboy in the Village AU

Part One | Part Nine

The queen breaks the news to them at the breakfast table as soon as she's finished eating. She wipes her mouth daintily with a napkin, pushes her empty bowl away from her, snaps her fingers, and smiles as a guard pulls out a familiar-looking envelope from beneath his cloak and hands it to her.

Roier almost coughs up his eggs. His eyes go wide and his fork scrapes against his plate and he stops breathing and he suddenly breathes too hard while chewing and he doubles over and covers his mouth to keep himself from spitting his food up in shock.

Cellbit immediately drops his own silverware and raises a hand to rub Roier's back. Roier shrugs him off, getting himself under control pretty quickly, but Cellbit's hand remains on his back, and Roier lets it stay there.

Slowly, the queen opens the envelope; its seal has already been broken. She makes direct eye contact as she does so, her face perfectly flat.

That's Roier's handwriting on the envelope. And inside is the princess' notebook paper with a message written in Cellbit's messy scrawl. The message was coded, and the address was encrypted, so there shouldn't be anything to worry about.

...Right?

Unless-

The queen clears her throat, raises the letter so that she's looking at it, and reads: "'As someone experienced with the culinary nuances of human flesh, I have decided that it's absolute dogshit when cooked. I prefer to taste the blood, as it adds a bit of spice to what would otherwise be pretty bland.'"

Her nose wrinkles, her entire face screwing up in disgust. Good. Just as planned.

"'However'," she continues, "'I have discovered the value in different types of meats. Bear meat is still my favorite, but I have grown to like rabbit meat as of recent. Something about it reminds me of my childhood, I'm sure you know why. The taste of cooked rabbit paints a picture of warfare and bloodshed, and the nostalgia makes it taste even sweeter.

'Rabbit cooked in a mushroom sauce is better than you'd imagine, though I know that we both can't really do mushrooms anymore.

'Try it out and let me know how you like it. Was it good? Bad? I can adjust the recipe.'"

Lowering the letter, the queen folds it up and calmly places it on the table in front of her.

Cellbit glances at Roier out of the corner of his eye.

Roier just smiles, closed-mouthed, and gets himself another forkful of egg. The way he's holding his fork, though, and his knife is... dangerous. He's ready.

And then the queen smiles, leaning back in her seat with her hands clasped in her lap.

Cellbit picks up his fork and holds it just a bit too tightly. His knuckles go white.

Suddenly, the queen stands from her chair and picks up her bowl and chucks it clear across the table with a screamed, "What the fuck is wrong with you!?"

Cellbit yelps and falls to the side out of his chair, hand on his head to keep his hat on, the bowl whiffing past his face so close that bits of berries drag across his cheek and leave a mark behind.

He tries to get back up, but he's stopped by a guard rushing forward and putting a heavy armored foot on his back. He hisses and struggles and squirms, ears laying flat under his hat.

He fights twice as hard as he hears Roier shout. His head whips to the side just in time to watch Roier get manhandled out of his chair and forced to drop his makeshift weapons, his arms getting pinned behind his back by four entire armored guards.

"You attacked my daughter?" the queen demands.

On the floor, Cellbit can't see anything of her but her feet as she gets out of her chair and storms over to their side of the table.

Cellbit bares his teeth as she approaches. She does the same in return, ears twitching angrily.

"It was just a little blackmail," he taunts.

"She is a child!" she snaps.

"Yes, and?" Roier asks. "So what?"

Her gaze snaps towards him, and her face darkens.

"You," she spits.

A second guard has to run over and pin Cellbit as the queen storms towards Roier and slaps him across the face loud enough to echo throughout the room.

Roier just blinks and takes it. The side of his face is red and angry, and Cellbit feels red and angry.

"She cried because of you," the queen lowly says, body shaking in anger. "Did you really think that she would keep this from me?"

Roier shrugs. "I mean... yeah?"

Cellbit accidentally lets out a pained yowl as the second guard on him digs their armor into an older wound on his lower back, one that never really healed after prison.

For whatever reason, the queen turns her head to glare at the guard.

"What are you doing?" she huffs. "Don't hurt him."

Cellbit blinks up at her in disbelief. "You just threw a bowl at me!"

"And you have a thick skull. It wouldn't have hurt you."

At that, Cellbit starts struggling even harder. He used to be able to fight off an entire gang of men at once, what happened? How are two people holding him down like this?

"Kids lie," Roier loudly says, trying to bring the attention back to him, the idiot. "Kids suck!"

And it works. The queen turns back to him, face slowly reddening.

"Empanada is an angel," she says.

"She's a fucking stalker!" Cellbit argues, trying to bring the attention back to him. "And you're making her do it. So what does that make you?"

And it works. The queen turns back to him, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

"What?" she asks.

He rolls his eyes. "Oh, come on. She's been following me for weeks. Basically since we got here! Because you're making her."

He scoffs, "Child labor, really? Even I don't make my kids help in the store."

"I do," Roier comments.

Cellbit nods. "He does. But I don't, and I'm the cannibal here, so..."

The queen just shakes her head. "No... what? First, you aren't, and, second, I haven't told her to do anything but stay away from you, and-"

"Okay, fuck you," he interrupts, "I am a cannibal. Didn't you read the letter?"

"Yes, and that's how I know you're lying. But listen, I haven't told Empanada to do anything to you!"

"Yeah," Roier agrees, "except follow us!"

"Invisible," Cellbit adds. "And her potions aren't even properly mixed! Do you know how dangerous that can be? She's going to wake up dead one of these days, and it's going to be all your fault."

The queen groans and puts her face in her hands. She breathes, shoulders rising and falling dramatic with every breath.

"I told her to stay away from the cauldron," she murmurs, so quiet that it's likely that nobody but Cellbit can hear her. "She's too short. She hates the smells. She can't reach. What the fuck?"

Sensing a weak moment, Cellbit smirks and says, "I knew you think I'm the wrong person."

Lowering her hands, the queen frowns and asks, "What?"

He shrugs. "Why else would you be hiding your daughter, a-k-a my niece, from me unless you think I'm the wrong guy. If I'm supposed to be her long-lost uncle, wouldn't you have introduced me to her immediately? Unless you don't trust me, because you think I'm not your brother, because I'm not your brother."

Roier 'OOOOOOOOOH!'s. As does one of the guards holding him, who gets shut up immediately by another guard.

The queen just stares. She stares for a long moment before sighing and saying, "My daughter asked me to keep you away from her. She said that she didn't want to get cooties."

Roier blinks. "What the fuck is a cooties?"

The queen waves her hand dismissively. "It's a girl thing, you wouldn't get it. But-"

Cellbit cuts her off with a shake of his head: "No, no. She told us that you told her to stay away from us. We aren't supposed to know that she exists. Because you wanted her to spy on me!"

"Why would I want her to do that?" The queen throws her arms into the air in frustration. "Why would I even spy on you? I did that before you even came here!"

"Aha!" Cellbit shouts, wiggling an arm free so he can point at her. "You did spy on me!"

"And you still are!" Roier accuses. "You stole our mail, what the fuck?"

The queen rolls her eyes. "Because you blackmailed my daughter? If you wanted to send a letter, you could have asked."

"Uh, and then what?" Cellbit sneers. "You follow it until it gets to the other person and you kidnap them, too?"

"Oh, I don't need to follow it to do that," the queen simply replies.

She smirks slightly, arms crossing as she leans back against the table.

"Who do you think taught you encryption in the first place?" she asks. "And your code sucked. The cannibalism was a good distraction, but it was too ridiculous. Searching your home weeks ago showed that your youngest child's favorite animal is the rabbit and your other child likes cows. Your children were growing mushrooms in a window garden. There were art supplies throughout the apartment. It was all obvious."

Cellbit's heart clenches.

The queen just smiles.

Her attention quickly moves away from him, though, as a messenger runs into the room out of breath.

"An update, your highness," the messenger wheezes. "The team has completed its search of Mr. Halo's home."

Roier freezes.

Cellbit stops breathing.

No.

"And?" the queen asks, frowning.

After a moment, the messenger answers:

"There are no signs of the children there. Evidence shows that they had never even arrived."

Roier's knees buckle beneath him. The guards holding him all shout and rush to keep him upright as he faints in their arms.

The queen raises a hand to her mouth in shock. She immediately turns to Cellbit, pale, but he doesn't see her. Not really.

He stares blankly into the space ahead of him as the queen drops to her knees by his side and talks. He doesn't hear a thing besides the beating of his own heart.

They had never even arrived.

#a.d.'s fics i suppose #a.d.'s fics i suppose.#catboy in the village au

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star--nymph · 10 hours

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thinking about how as a templar, Cullen wasn't functioning as a person. He was just a cog in a machine; a rusted, chipped one that screeched when it connected with another cog, but a cog nevertheless. Templars don't have belongings, they don't have interests, they forfeit their family, if they are allowed to marry it's under strict guidelines. the lyrium isn't just there to make the powerful, it's to make them subservient, in theory it is meant to be the leash that yanks when the templars speaks for themselves or others. You want to rebel, you want to advocate for others? The leash can be pulled, taking you further and further away from a new drought of lyrium.

no one pays a templar to think. no one pays a templar at all. you are there for the honor and love of the Maker and you swing your sword for Him and no one else

and when he comes out of it, what does Cullen have? His suit of armor, his sword, his mantle, maybe an under shirt and a pair of breeches, and his coin

the coin that was his one act of rebellion in his seventeen year tenure

no one wonder he says to a romance inquisition 'when it started, I hadn't considered much beyond our survival' because why would he? Templars don't have futures, they have service and they either die in service or die on the street, starved of lyrium and dignity. It's an act of rebellion in and of itself for Cullen to think he has the possibility of a future with anyone or anything

maybe that's the greatest gift an inquisitor, romanced or not, can give him--a chance to leave service and for once, be a person with dreams and desires. And what does he do when he's given that? He creates a sanctuary for other templars, so they may no what it's like to be a person as well.

#cullen rutherford #I'm thinking about this instead of doing homework WHOOPS #cullen for the first time since he was 13 being at a town market and not know what his coin is worth #because he's bought much for himself in all that time

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goodqueenaly · 2 days

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Hi I loved your thoughts on Myranda Royce and was wondering what your thoughts were on Bronze Yohn? He seems an honourable sort but almost a bit to Ned Starkish for his own good. Do you think him and Sansa will end up saving each other by bringing down Littlefinger?

I think Bronze Yohn Royce is in many ways about as typical a Westerosi aristocrat, and specifically a blue-blooded Valeman, as we’re likely to find throughout the Seven Kingdoms. Even before we meet Lord Royce on page, we hear of him through social-political reputation: he is the head of Ser Waymar’s “ancient house with too many heirs”, the great lord whom Lord Commander Mormont was too afraid of insulting to refuse the under-experienced Ser Waymar command of his fatal ranging, the high-ranking guest of Winterfell welcomed at table with Lady Catelyn and in the yard and at hunt with Lord Eddard. His place among the top tier of Westerosi aristocracy has been long assured: Royce attended both the tourney of Harrenhal and the tourney at Lannisport, tilting at both, and defeated at least Thoros of Myr at the melee held to celebrate Joffrey’s twelfth birthday. Nor does Lord Yohn appear less than impressive when he comes into the story himself: Sansa counts him among the “heroes of a hundred songs” who pass by her at the Hand’s tourney, and almost reverently describes his namesake runic armor to Jeyne Poole. Indeed, Catelyn indirectly acknowledges Bronze Yohn’s stature in Westerosi, and particularly Vale, aristocracy by describing Nestor Royce as “Bronze Yohn’s cousin, from a lesser branch of House Royce”; even another aristocrat in his own right should, in Catelyn’s mind, be defined by his relation to the much greater Lord Royce.

Unfortunately for Bronze Yohn, being so typically aristocratic has at times influenced his decision-making, occasionally leading to unwinnable situations where traditional blue-blood lines of thought and operation simply do not work. If Royce was not alone in rejecting Tyrion as a bridegroom for one of his female relations, his refusal reflects the widespread ableism found among Westeros’ elite. Along with the majority of the other great (male) aristocrats of the Vale (at least according to Kevan Lannister), Lord Royce sought to court the widowed Lysa in order to exercise power as a sort of jure uxoris regent; unwilling, perhaps, to engage in a sort of Ainslie Bond-like approach to forcing Lysa into an aristocratically appropriate marriage (much less actually trying to imitate the historical Earl of Bothwell), and convinced that the Vale could only be ruled by an Arryn or one of the highest birth who was himself (specifically himself) closest to an Arryn, Bronze Yohn was perhaps, like his countrymen, stuck with simply trying to woo Lysa into marrying him in order to effect the changes he wanted. Even more problematically for Bronze Yohn (and his allies), in their approach toward Petyr Baelish the Lords Declarant were simply outmatched, caught by the very aristocratic forms they were trying to enforce. Certain that only a blue-blooded Valeman would do to raise Jon Arryn’s son, disdainful of the relatively lower born second husband of Lysa Tully controlling the Arryn heir, Bronze Yohn was, like his allies, limited to making bald but impotent threats against a man with sufficient personal and royal resources (themselves largely one and the same, of course, as the late great Steven Attewell explained) not to be intimidated by such posturing. In turn, Bronze Yohn seems to have poured at least some of his energies into cultivating the would-be Arryn heir, Harry Hardyng, staging (in every sense of the word) a melee at Runestone and knighting the victorious Harry thereafter; it is perhaps not unlikely, if no better for it, that Bronze Yohn, intractably opposed to Littlefinger, encouraged young Harry to look down on Littlefinger - a snobbishness that for Harry has extended, at least initially, to open rudeness toward “Alayne Stone”.

However, Bronze Yohn’s ironclad (or should it be bronzeclad?) belief in his aristocratic position does not preclude him from a willingness to act in the name of honor, and to lead his family accordingly. While he might have been pursuing Lysa as a suitor, Bronze Yohn was nevertheless not shy about “stirring up all sorts of trouble”, in Lysa’s opinion, by demanding that “[Lysa] call [her] banners and go to war” on the side of Robb Stark - a recognition by Lord Royce, I think, not just of the historical kinship between Stark and Royce (and the threat to him personally, as one of those identified in Cersei’s initial demand for homage) but also of the generally dishonorable conduct of the Lannister-Baratheon regime. Too, though Yohn Royce obviously did not know about the secret agreement between Lyn Corbray and Littlefinger (nor, by extension, the pretended dramatics Lyn acted out during the Lords Declarant meeting), Bronze Yohn responded with honorably appropriate fury - denouncing the man he believed was his ally to defend the hallowed tradition of guest right (even where the beneficiary of that tradition, in this scenario, was the much-loathed Petyr Baelish). Likewise, I think due credit should be given to Bronze Yohn for raising at least two of his sons (certainly those two most familiar to us as readers) with a sense of duty and bravery even in the face of unwindable odds: though both Waymar and Robar demonstrated some of the haughty self-assurance typical of young Westerosi aristocrats of their rank (albeit perhaps not totally for Waymar), both also proved willing to die in the name of honor - Waymar distinguishing himself as a man of the Night’s Watch in doing battle against the Others, Robar allowing Catelyn and Brienne time to flee while he himself fought the grief-stricken Loras Tyrell following Renly’s murder.

Ultimately, I do believe that Bronze Yohn will be an ally to Sansa, both because of that aristocratic standing as well as his personal sense of honor. Sansa already considered revealing herself to Bronze Yohn when the latter came with the Lords Declarant to the Eyrie, and while she decided against doing so in the moment, she had no way of knowing that her reasoning was wrong: Royce did want to fight for Robb, and with Sansa the last remaining legitimate Stark (or so Sansa and Bronze Yohn believe for now, anyway), I think there is a very good chance that Royce will want to fight for her once Littlefinger’s plan to reveal her kicks into gear. Moreover, if Sansa, learning of Littlefinger’s crimes against her family and her friend Jeyne, calls upon northern and Vale lords to cast him down, I firmly believe Royce will be first in line, ready and more than willing to cast down the man Sansa knows was responsible for Jon Arryn’s death (among much else).

#asoiaf meta #bronze yohn royce #yohn royce

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cece693 · 16 hours

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PLEASE PART TWO OF THAT NICO DI ANGELO FIC

I'm not even a fan nor do I know anything about the PJO series but that.. THAT fic makes me wanna start reading it

Sword Fighting Pt. 2 (Nico Di Angelo x Son of Aphrodite)

Part 1 can be found here, however, you don't need to read it to understand this.

tags: love confessions, Nico being overprotective, near-death experience, takes place during The Blood of Olympus, reader is injured (badly)

Time was something demigods rarely had, and Nico di Angelo had lived long enough to know that it always slipped through their fingers. He never planned to reveal his feelings for you, the son of Aphrodite, but as Gaea rose from her slumber and the earth itself raged in the final battle, regret gnawed at him.

He should’ve told you.

The battlefield was a maelstrom of chaos—monsters falling, demigods fighting with every last bit of strength they had left. The air was thick with dust and the stench of death, but through it all, Nico’s eyes sought you. You moved like a whirlwind, graceful and deadly, wielding your twin blades with a skill that defied your heritage.

Even now, in the heart of war, there was a terrible beauty to how you fought—fluid, precise, unstoppable. Nico's breath hitched as he watched you, his heart pounding in a way that had nothing to do with the battle around him. He had seen many things in his life—gods, monsters, and the depths of the Underworld—but he'd never seen anything as beautiful as you.

For a moment, it seemed like the battle was turning in their favor. The monsters were thinning, their numbers dwindling under the combined might of Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter. Nico’s heart pounded with a glimmer of hope. Maybe—just maybe—they had a chance.

Then it happened.

As the demigods paused to catch their breath, thinking they had won, a final foe—enormous, armored, and ancient—rose from the shadows, roaring with fury. The beast lunged, aiming straight for Hazel, its jagged weapon raised for a killing blow.

You didn’t hesitate. Without a second thought, you threw yourself between the beast and Hazel. Nico saw it as if in slow motion—how your eyes flashed with determination and your blade shone in the sun as you swung to kill the beast before a sickening crunch echoed across the battlefield. You had saved Hazel, but you had also been stuck, crumpling to the ground, your blood spilling across the earth.

“No!” Nico’s voice tore through the chaos, a raw cry filled with panic and horror. He barely felt his feet moving as he sprinted toward you. He reached your side in what felt like an eternity, falling to his knees beside you. Blood stained through your armor, dark and thick, pooling beneath your body. Your face was pale, lips quivering as you struggled to draw breath.

“Nico…” you gasped, your voice barely a whisper, eyes fluttering.

“No, no, no stay with me.” Nico pleaded, his hands trembling as he pressed them against your wound, desperately trying to stop the bleeding. Around him, the other demigods rushed to your side—they moved quickly, but it felt agonizingly slow to Nico. The son of Aphrodite was barely conscious as Percy and Jason lifted him gently, careful not to jostle his broken form too much.

Hazel, pale with guilt and worry, led the way back to the makeshift camp they had set up behind the front lines. It was a patch of relative calm amidst the chaos of war, but Nico’s heart hammered in his chest like a storm.

“Will!” Nico screamed, his voice tight with fear. The blond healer turned around and paled upon seeing your state—ushering Percy and Jason to lay you in an empty bed.

“This is bad,” Will muttered, his voice hushed, trying to keep his composure as he assessed your chest. He pressed a glowing hand to your wound, his brow furrowed in concentration, but he shook his head slightly. “The weapon must’ve been enchanted—it’s deeper than it looks, and it’s not healing like it should.”

Nico’s throat tightened. “You can heal it though, right? You have to.”

Will glanced at Nico, his expression shadowed with doubt. “I don’t know, Nico. This kind of wound…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I’ll do everything I can.” His grip on your hand tightened as Will began his work, the faint golden glow of healing energy surrounding your body, but Nico could tell it wasn’t enough.

Hours passed, and Will pushed himself to the limit, alternating between ambrosia, nectar, and healing magic, trying everything he knew. But still, your breathing was shallow, and the wound stubbornly refused to fully close. Nico stayed by your side the entire time, refusing to move, barely blinking as he watched every flicker of your face for a sign of improvement.

The others came and went—between the battle's cleanup and burning of shrouds—they all offered words of comfort, but Nico barely registered them. His world had narrowed to the cot where you lay, your face pale and peaceful as if already slipping into the void.

Days blurred together. Each dawn brought a renewed wave of dread, as Nico feared you wouldn’t wake up. Every breath you took seemed a miracle, but it wasn’t enough. Ambrosia was fed to you sparingly, Will careful not to overuse it. Every time you twitched or murmured in your sleep, Nico’s heart leapt, only to sink again when you didn’t stir beyond that.

He never left your side.

“Nico you need to rest,” Will urged gently, exhaustion lining his own features. “You’ve been here for days. You can’t keep going like this.”

Nico shook his head. “I’m not leaving him.”

Will opened his mouth to argue but stopped. He knew better than to push Nico. The look in his eyes—dark, haunted—was enough to silence any protest. He had seen that look before, in the faces of those who had lost too much already, those who were on the edge of breaking. “Okay.” Will said softly, placing a reassuring hand on Nico’s shoulder before stepping out of the tent. His footsteps faded, leaving the ghost king alone in the dimly lit space.

Nico leaned forward, resting his forehead on the back of your hand. His body was heavy with exhaustion, every muscle aching from his own battle wounds and malnutrition, not having eaten anything in days, but he couldn't leave. Nico wouldn't. The thought of walking away, even for a moment, felt like abandonment—like if he left your side, you might slip away for good. And that…that was something Nico couldn’t bear.

“I convinced myself there was time to tell you how I felt,” Nico said, his voice cracking, each word feeling like it was pulled from a wound too deep to close. “But now…now it might be too late.”

His breath hitched, and he squeezed your hand tighter, as if holding onto you physically would stop you from slipping away. He could feel the faint warmth of your skin, but it wasn’t enough. It didn’t feel real—none of this did. You were so still, your chest rising and falling with shallow, labored breaths. The strong, brilliant demigod he admired—no, loved—reduced to this fragile, fading presence in the cot before him.

Nico swallowed hard, the ache in his chest nearly unbearable. "I should’ve told you the moment I realized. I should’ve been braver. But I was scared. Scared that you wouldn’t feel the same, or worse—that if I let you in, you’d leave me. Like Bianca did."

The name hung heavy in the air, thick with old grief. His sister. His rock. The one person who had ever made him feel less alone—until you came along. Losing her had shattered him in ways he’d never fully recovered from, and the thought of losing you now? It was a nightmare he couldn’t endure.

“I couldn’t handle it,” Nico whispered, his voice trembling as the confession spilled out. “If you leave me, I don’t know if I’ll survive it. Not again. I’m not strong enough to go through that again.”

The dam broke, and the words came faster, more desperate. “I swear, if you die on me, I’ll follow you. I don’t care what Will or anyone says. I’ll follow you to Elysium if I have to." He pressed his forehead against the back of your hand, his body shaking with the effort of holding back tears. "I love you. I should’ve said it before. I love you, and I’m not ready to let you go."

For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. Nico stayed perfectly still, the weight of his confession hanging between you, the silence around him thick and unbearable. Then, faintly, a shift—a movement so small Nico almost didn’t notice it. Your fingers twitched beneath his.

His eyes snapped open, and he lifted his head in disbelief. A soft, rasping sound reached his ears. “Nico…” His heart lurched. Your eyes fluttered open, bleary and filled with pain, but undeniably alive. You coughed weakly, wincing at the movement, but your lips curled into a faint smile. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Nico froze, staring at you as if you were a ghost. The relief hit him so suddenly that he couldn’t breathe. “You’re awake…” His voice was barely a whisper, disbelief coloring every word.

Your smile widened just a fraction, though it was strained with effort. “You didn’t think I’d leave you, did you?”

Nico’s relief was overwhelming, but it didn’t come without an edge of something sharper. Anger, bitter and cold, began to surface as he stared at you, still fragile but alive. The thought of how close you came to dying—how close he came to losing you—made his chest tighten painfully.

He pulled back, his expression hardening, the words spilling out before he could stop them. “What the hell were you thinking!? You nearly died out there!”

You blinked, still groggy but more aware now, and gave a weak smile. “Someone had to, right?” you rasped, trying to lighten the tension, but Nico wasn’t having it.

“That’s not the point!” Nico’s voice was louder than he intended, eyes burning with something between fury and heartbreak. “You could’ve died. You almost did."

Your smile widened, even as you winced at the effort. “You would’ve done the same thing,” you said, your voice hoarse but filled with that infuriating calmness. “If it had been you, and Hazel was in danger, you wouldn’t have hesitated.”

Nico froze, his jaw clenching as the truth of your words settled over him. He wanted to argue, to shout at you for being reckless and careless with your life, but he couldn’t. You were right, and that only made it worse. If the roles were reversed, Nico knew, deep down, that he would’ve done exactly the same thing.

You smirked at his silence, clearly pleased with yourself. “See?” you said softly, your voice still weak but playful. “I know you, di Angelo.”

Nico scowled, but his anger was already slipping away, replaced by something warmer, something he couldn’t quite name but felt deep in his bones. He didn’t reply to your teasing, didn’t trust himself to say anything without his emotions spilling over again. Instead, he just shook his head and muttered, “You’re impossible.”

You laughed, though it quickly turned into a pained cough. Nico’s heart clenched again, his worry returning in full force. “I don’t care what you think,” He said after a moment, his voice quieter now, but still laced with intensity. “Next time, don’t throw your life away for anyone. Not Hazel. Not even me.”

You met his gaze, your smile softening. “I won’t.” you said, though the glint in your eyes told him you were lying. Nico didn’t reply to that. He knew you too well—knew that your words were empty promises. But for now, you were alive, and that was all that mattered.

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tgrailwar-zero · 11 hours

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Avenger! Rider!

Both of you! Take your armor off and put your weapons down if you’re going to speak like this.

Salieri, look Constantine in the eyes if you’re going to say that.

Constantine, take the armor off, this isn’t war right now.

There was a moment of tense quiet, a battle feeling as if it could break out at any moment.

There was still a Command Spell preventing the RIDER from directly disobeying- and unlike the amount of prodding it took him to circumvent it with DRACO- that resolve wasn't present here. He took a step back, folding his arms, eyes narrowing. The AVENGER wasn't under that same pretense, taking another step towards the RIDER with a clawed hand raised, his body burning with wrathful mana.

Still, the lack of a proper decision was a decision in itself.

SALIERI: "...It's always 'later' with you all. You all refuse to act when it counts. Not until it's too late."

He lowered his hand, slowly.

His words were like barbs, and the only thing he left behind as he vanished. His magical energy faded from the hotel room. There was a collective exhale, before eyes fell on CONSTANTINE.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Before he could say anything--

KUKULKAN: "Is it really that hard of a choice? When have the Paladins been anything but fair and friendly to us? Isn't it right to be fair to them?"

She folded her arms across her chest, biting her lip.

KUKULKAN: "…I don't think I understand humans at all."

With a shake of her head, she walked past you, jade-colored hair fluttering behind her as she strode out the door. CONSTANTINE held out a hand towards her.

CONSTANTINE: "Invader? Hey-- Kuku, please wait!"

He jogged after her, before stopping, turning around briefly.

CONSTANTINE: "…Continue with the planning, we have to use our time wisely, so this isn't adjourned. Simply update us on your decisions."

With that- he ran after her, slamming the door behind him.

The room settled into a uneasy silence.

NERO folded her arms, leaning her hip against one of the chairs as she pinched the bridge of her nose, her brow furrowing. A migraine was coming on, probably.

NERO: "…Let them be, all of them. We still have work to do."

GIUSEPPE: "Right. Let's at least be a little productive- have an immediate next step, at minimum. If we're not sure how to approach Charlemagne, then let's turn our focus purely towards intel-gathering. How should we go about that? There's meeting with Assassin, splitting our numbers and performing recon, there's even speaking with Charlemagne himself or one of his paladins... we're not strapped for options."

#thgw story #endless whispers #thgw discussion #thgw: chapter 6

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anthurak · 15 hours

Note

Hey, I'm doing a presentation workshop at work and as part of it we each have to give a presentation about something we're passionate about, so I'm doing RWBY and focusing on the subversion of tropes (like how Jaune and Ruby have swapped the traditional male anime protagonist role and the backup role usually for a girl around) and multiple allusions for each character (Norse, LOTR, fairy tale, wizard of Oz etc) and how they're shown.

Do you have any favourite theories or allusions around the main two teams, the Ozluminati or STRQ? Thanks!

Oooh, sounds fun! XD

That's a great question, and honestly when it comes to Team RWBY, I think my favorite allusions are simply how the story flips and twists the core allusions of the main girls:

Ruby is a Little Red Riding Hood who, rather then being menaced and hunted by a monster in the woods, is HERSELF a hunter of monsters. A Red Riding Hood who goes into the woods to hunt the monsters so that others may be safe.

Weiss is a Snow White who is both the 'Disney Princess' AND the 'Knight in Shining Armor'. A girl who probably would have been pushed into a traditional 'princess' role by her controlling, abusive father, but who instead essentially became the 'Knight' to rescue herself, and strives to be a noble figure to help others as well.

And of course, Blake being BOTH the 'Beauty' and 'The Beast' of her allusion. With Yang complimenting said allusion by likewise being both the 'Beast' to Blake's 'Beauty' and the 'Beauty' to Blake's 'Beast'. And how Adam manages to likewise represent both Gaston and the Cursed Rose.

There is also my 'Odin!Ruby' theories, though I will freely admit those are more 'fun headcanons' at the moment, rather then something really held up by the narrative.

There is also something just so damn cool about Salem essentially being 'The Wicked Witch of the West' crossed with SAURON (with a bit of 'Galadrial if she took the Ring' vibes thrown in) XD

And Cinder presenting just this AMAZING dark, tragic twist on Cinderella as a villain origin story. Where Cinderella finally fights back and even KILLS her wicked and cruel step-mother and sisters who so long kept her under their boot, only for the people/person she trusted most to turn on her and side with those very oppressors. Showing just how much the society she lived in was entirely okay with the terrible oppression that was done to her.

The fact that the show manages to give us a Wizard of Oz who really is a powerful wizard, yet also STILL turns out to be a massive fraud who lied to everyone.

Even after all this time, I think some of my favorite allusions in the show are still the ones at the core of the main characters.

#rwby #rwby ask #tahnex ask #rwby allusions #Team RWBY #Ruby Rose #Weiss Schnee #Blake Belladonna #Yang Xiao Long #Salem #Cinder Fall #Ozpin

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skyloftian-nutcase · 2 days

Text

(content warning, unnamed character death, war)

A gentle breeze swooshed through the area, carrying a song of peace, a jarring juxtaposition against the backdrop of the world it caressed. The earth was torn and soaked, soil absorbing blood like dew, poisoning a nearby stream. Malice clung to the air a moment before being swept away in the wind, like water flowing over an open wound. Bodies lay on the scuffed-up ground, looking almost like they were resting were it not for the open eyes, the disfigured contortion of their positions, the chunks of armor and weapons, the stench of death permeating the air before the zephyr carried it away.

Link sat overlooking it all. He felt strangely disengaged from it all, mind not really coming up with words, chest tight, body stiff, exhausted and filled with energy, adrenaline making his eyes stay open until they burned while every fiber of his being screamed for rest. Hemisi sat beside him, still holding a scroll she’d picked off the Gerudo general they’d killed in the battle.

Eventually, his friend broke the silence first. She always did. “How many do you think died?”

Did it even matter? He shrugged, too tired to speak.

“I used to think being a warrior was an honor,” Hemisi muttered, fingers tracing over dried blood on the parchment. “That it was my duty to lead the Gerudo and defend my people should we ever need to fight.”

The wind blew again, rustling leaves in the trees as they fell, blood red and golden yellow, like fire raining from the sky.

“There’s nothing honorable in this,” Hemisi finally said quietly.

A sound caught both teenagers’ attention, carried by the breeze, a groan, a whimper. Link rose, pulling out a dagger while Hemisi drew one of her scimitars. The pair moved slowly in unison, watching each other’s back and scanning the deserted battlefield.

It didn’t take long to trace the noise to its source, leading them to a Hylian soldier who was laying on the ground. Blood had soaked through his armor, looking like he’d been swimming in it, face pale as snow, eyes terrified, body twitching in agony.

Link rummaged through his pouch for a potion, but found that he had none. Hemisi came up short as well.

“We have to get him back to camp,” Hemisi said, eyes worried as she looked around to ensure there weren’t other threats or survivors.

Link just stared at the soldier. He’d lost so much blood. He’d lost too much blood. He heard Hemisi curse softly under her breath, kneeling down, and he saw the other wound she’d picked up on. The soldier’s leg was missing, the majority of bone and muscle hidden in tattered clothes, but he could still see the grotesque display well enough, could feel the way his mind numbed further, the way he physically recoiled.

Hemisi shifted a little to kneel beside the man. The camp was too far away. This soldier was too far gone.

It felt… wrong. Giving up like this. But by this point in the war, Link knew when it was time to stop fighting.

“Should… should we finish it?” Hemisi asked quietly as the soldier moaned, barely noticing they were there.

Link moved slowly, kneeling at the man’s other side. Hemisi glanced up at him, grip tight on her blade, ready to end the soldier’s suffering. She’d spilled enough blood as it was – what was one more, if it was to help?

The Hero of Hyrule shook his head. “No. Let Farore take him when she thinks he is ready. But we should stay with him.”

Hemisi bit her lip, looking away from the soldier a moment as he moaned again. Link slowly reached down to hold the man’s hand, and Hemisi sighed, putting her hand on the man’s shoulder.

“We’re here,” she whispered softly, trying to keep her voice steady. “You’re not alone.”

The teenagers stayed, offering what little support they could as the man passed on, waiting until he stopped twitching and gasping, until the tears stopped falling, the blood stopped oozing. The soldier glanced at Link one last time. “H-Hero…”

Link squeezed his hand. Whatever the soldier tried to say couldn’t get out of his throat before he breathed his last, eyes fixed on the young warrior.

The pair sat there a moment, honoring the fallen in their own ways, before they rose together. It was over.

When they made it back to camp, they sat once more, staring out at the field, letting the breeze play with their hair.

#writing #Imprisoning war #sorry lovelies I’m in a weird mood #Just thought of when I saw my charge nurse sitting with a patient while he died so he wouldn’t die alone #Anyway #wanted to write but can’t really focus on the usual stuff? Was gonna do LU in Healthcare but we all know Imprisoning War is my kryptonite #Hero of power #hemisi #legend of zelda

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crosshairs-dumb-pimp-gf · 2 days

Text

“Are you hungry or not?”

Crosshair x F!Reader One Shot

Summary:

Prison life is already unfair as it is, but when a clone guard ends up being your solitary warden you may have no choice but to do what ever he says.

WC: 4405- Read on Ao3

*this is just my general "mature rating" specifics:

Content Warning:

Smut. Coercion/Questionable consent, Uneven power dynamic, Unethical Dom Crosshair, Oral (f receiving), Orgasm denial, begging, humiliation (?... sure), Unprotected PiV and creampie, Light restraining, mind games. Rough all around.

Authors Note: I was not able to make in universe swearing work with this one, so FUCK it is. Also, I took all of One Shot Cross's ethic points and gave them to Disgrace Crosshair so now this one is just an utter menace. Hope that helps.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Hours had passed.

Normally, there'd be an orderly with a food tray, then the inquisitors with their scowling guard, but today…

You sprawled on the bunk and looked at the clock in your plain cell and your stomach growled. Hours since the usual meal time.

Are they trying to starve a confession out of me?

It wouldn't help, you weren't an insurrectionist. Just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Didn't stop them from locking you away. They had no intention of letting anyone suspected of treason see trial anytime soon. Stuck in holding limbo while they questioned you day after day... Till days became months.

But not today.

You jumped as the door swished open without the usual warning clamor of boots or the rattle of the food cart. Bolting upright you turned on your bed to face the door.

A single clone trooper was framed in the doorway holding a tray of food casually in one hand.

This one was odd; Overly tall, slim with narrow features and a shock of white hair. He was a familiar sight, usually standing behind the Lieutenant that was leading the questioning for the day. He was the one that snickered when you suggested your inquisitor eat his own testicles.

The light glinted off the ominous black armor as he paced through the harsh white room and set the tray on the metal table in the middle with a sharp clatter. Then he stepped back, twirling the toothpick between his lips as he observed you,

“Well?”

“Well… what?”

“Are you hungry or not?”

You were, but you eyed the soldier suspiciously,

“Where’s everyone else? Why's it just you?”

He smirked,

“Seems they forgot about you… guess that makes you my problem,”

You weren't sure what that meant, but it looked like the best answer you'd get for now. Standing, you cautiously crossed the few feet to the table and perched on one of the attached metal seats by the tray.

It had the usual: protein gel, fresh piece of fruit, portion of hard grain bread and water… and…a dessert.

That's new…

You eyed the small canister of sweet custard before flicking your gaze to the soldier.

“You… sticking around?”

“Mm”

You picked up the utensils on the tray and poked at the jelly mass that represented most of your daily calories. With only him standing there it felt… awkward.

“If it's just you, why don't you sit?... This feels too… watched.”

It wasn't just the situation. He was watching you. Intently. You could feel his eyes boring into the top of your skull every time you looked down. You offered again,

“Sit.”

“You're in no position to be giving orders…”

…

He sat. Elbows on the table, hands folded under rested chin, eyes… focused on your face.

You gave up trying to eat the undignified nutrient paste under such scrutiny and picked up the stone fruit instead, biting into its soft flesh to fill your mouth with tangy juice that ran down your chin.

He watched.

“Seriously… What are you doing here, Trooper?”

“Commander.”

“Commander trooper.”

“Crosshair.”

You glanced over the tattoo around his eye.

Yeah, that makes sense.

“You still haven't answered me Commander.”

“I already did. They. Forgot. You. Fallen between the cracks.”

“But you didn't?”

His cheeks tinged the most subtle shade of pink. He didn't answer.

“So, now I'm your problem…”

“Indeed. No one will be coming to feed you, No more questions, Just you, this cell… and me,”

There was a growl to his voice that sent a shiver up your spine. You didn't want to guess at what he was implying, though you didn't need to. He stood leaning on his palms against the table top, a devilish look in his eyes.

“Do you want to keep eating, inmate?”

You gulped, taking in his posture, his expression, his eyes boring hungrily into you.

“You're not suggesti-”

“I am.”

“You can't be serious.”

“I am.”

You sat straight, shifting uncomfortably. There wasn't denying you had looked at the soldier before, even had the intrusive thought to ask him to stay behind once or twice… but this…

“This is an abuse of your position, soldier…”

He snatched out, fingers digging into your cheeks as he roughly turned your face up to look at him.

“It's a risk, sneaking food down here, what's a little… mutual benefit? I bring you food, you give me whatever I want,”

He leaned in breath hot against your ear,

“You get to eat… and so do I.”

Your breath caught as an unbidden heat warmed your inner thighs… those long months of isolation making you easy to tease. This was unfair and you bit your cheek in indignation.

“Think about it. I'll be back tomorrow… but if I stick around after that… that's up to you.”

He moved from the table, punching a code into the door and slipping out in a fluid motion leaving you to stew with what might possibly be your second to last meal.

~~~

You sat at the edge of the bunk, leg bouncing in distress as you looked over the dirty tray from yesterday. No one had come for it. The automated lights clicked out and then back on again and no one had come to get the tray. They always came to get the tray.

The door swished open. Crosshair, laden with food, scanning till he saw your jittery form on the bunk.

“Hey, asshole, what's the big idea?”

They can't have really…

But he just shrugged,

“I told you the deal,”

He placed the tray on the table, more carefully than before, and lowered himself to the bench opposite it. Elbows up, chin on folded hands… watching you.

“Eat.”

…

“And if I do?”

His lip twitched into that mirthless smirk again,

“Then I'll take it you've come to terms with your… predicament.”

You stifled a shiver, already feeling naked under his intense gaze.

“Wh-when… how soon… after?”

Your voice wobbled slightly and his eyebrow rose, like he wasn't expecting you to play along so easily. You flushed and turned from his staring.

I can't believe I'm even-

“Tomorrow.”

Your heart fluttered, confusing you, and you turned back to him.

“I'll be back tomorrow… be ready for me,”

He left quickly, leaving you with your conflicted thoughts and lackluster meal.

You could swear this was… anticipation.

Your thighs clenched against the warmth pooling through you.

~~~

Your heart was in your throat. You could feel it, you knew that if you just opened your mouth in the mirror you would see it beating there. So you stared at your reflection with your jaw clenched, hair dripping cold rivlettles down your skin.

You looked at your last pair of clean prison scrubs and wondered what it was gonna cost to get a fresh set from your new clone warden.

Speaking of,

The door swished open, and you looked up to catch his eyes in the open fresher mirror. He was looking bemused over your toweled, dripping visage.

“I said be ready but I wasn't expecting you so… eager,”

You flushed, snatching the scrubs and slipping them on over the towel, dropping the damp cloth once you were properly clothed. He snickered, and you spun back to face him. Crosshair took a measured step towards you but hesitated, turning instead to gesture at the tray that had appeared on the table.

“This… is your half,”

“I'm not exactly hungry, right this second…”

He shrugged, then rushed you. You felt the cold panels of the walls against your back as you were pinned to them.

“My half then.”

“Wait!”

He rocked back, letting you slide out from under him to catch your breath.

“Don't just… come at me like that,”

His hand closed on your wrist, tugging you back around.

“The food is for you, inmate. This,”

He tugged you into him squeezing your ass through the rough fabric,

“This is for me, My pleasure. Don't mistake that,”

You were tossed roughly into the bunk, the matress hitting the back of your knees to buckle them and you sat with a thump. He loomed over you, tugging off his gloves, a dangerous fire in his sharp eyes.

“The only thing you decide is who gets theirs first,”

You trembled, looking up at the man knowing with all assuredness that he was going to take you. You knew it would be rough. You knew from every little intrusive thought you had when your eyes would meet his over some suit shoulder or another the past few months.

…

“Take yours,”

A wicked smile broke his intensity, and he stripped off more armor. You noticed he hadn't brought a gun today… Clever.

His outer shell dropped away, leaving him in his tight black under suit and boots.

“On your knees,”

You made to protest but he caught your jaw, hooking his thumb between your teeth to hold you by your pallet.

“Not your decision, On. Your. Knees. ”

You made a noise in your throat, all you could really manage. He nodded your head for you with a flick of his wrist before releasing you to position yourself, tugging you by your hair when you made to angle your ass to him; instead, he positioned you parallel to the edge. Pressure on the back of your neck and you collapsed, cheek pressed to the sheets and ass high over your knees.

“Perfect,”

He purred. The mattress dipped as he sat behind you, firm hands brushing over the fabric guarding your rump to rest on your pelvis just before the small of your back. Fingers toyed with the hem of your useless scrubs, before slipping into them; feeling your hips, he traced them down your navel till he could feel the heat of you. You gasped as he brushed against the tender lips at the apex of your thighs. He ventured further, dipping his fingertip into the warmth of you to slide the evidence of your arousal back over the petals.

A groan escaped him when he felt how wet you were. Dipping into your again, too shallow, but you wouldn't admit you needed more even as a small moan played across your lips.

“Have you been wanting this?”

You didn't answer, hiding your flushed cheeks against the mattress.

His hands withdrew and the bottoms were yanked down to your knees.

You couldn't see him from this angle, just his legs casually sitting behind your exposed thighs… and his fingers, gripping those thighs hard. You could tell he was looking you over and you flushed even hotter. This was no good, it had been too long…

The muscles of your sex twitched in need, and you could feel slick fluid drip down your heated cunt to fall from your lips onto the sheets. You were growing more sensitive with your increased pulse alone. Not good.

You felt him reach for your wrists, pulling your arms to fold behind your back. He held them like that one handed, and you could feel him shift closer to you, sitting on your calves to pin them, legs draping over yours and face almost even with your raised buttock. You felt his breath stir against your quim and you whimpered.

“Remember, inmate,”

He had sensed your eagerness for what he was possitioning himself for.

“My pleasure, not yours.”

His leg wrapped around your arched back, bringing the distinct feeling of a boot sole against the back of your head. You almost turned to look but your head was pushed back down, ground under his heel. You whimpered again, unable to move with him restraining your body so efficiently with his own.

“My pleasure.”

And then his tongue plunged into you, making you jerk and gasp as the sudden intrusion.

He worked his tongue in and out of your cunt with slow, even drags that had you moaning weakly into the sheet. Groans rumbled through the sensitive skin whenever your walls would clench around his flexing muscle and he’d push deeper, digging his nose and teeth against you as he attempted to reach fully into your depths.

Anytime you jerked too violently his boot would crush you down again, arms tugged tighter together to pull your hips firmer against his face. His lips moved lower, sucking your sensitive bud into his mouth with a whisper of satisfaction that made you squirm. A soft sob choked from you.

He held you tight as he flicked his tongue against your clit, making you jolt and tremble. Your legs began to shake as the mounting pressure started to build up to a crescendo…

And he pulled back, eliciting a pathetic whine from your lips.

“You'll come when I want you to.”

Teeth sank into your ass and you cried out only for it to be muffled by his boot shoving your face into the mattress. Then he was working your cunt again, lapping at the dripping petals to make you gasp.

Torture.

They had sent him to torture you.

The seemingly endless cycle of being licked to an edge just to have him stop cold, lean back and watch as you shook and squirmed for some semblance of relief… it was torture.

You're not sure when you started to beg, but as another climax was yanked from you a choked pleading tore from your throat.

“Please, Crosshair, let me cum!”

Boot. Mattress. Then his mouth back to your folds, lapping hard against your swollen and sensitive clit.

You groaned lustily against the sheet without that pesky dignity from before, he wasn't gonna be able to keep you from going over for long. Every brush, every lick felt like it could be your undoing.

You felt weak, trying to twist your wrists away from his grip but it was useless; his hand closed over them like a vice. Your body had started to shake and wouldn't stop. He pulled away again and you bucked against his hold,

“Krriffff, Crosshair, please,”

He chuckled, drawing his tongue across the length of your slit from front to back making you sob and your pelvis to clench.

“What do you want, sweetheart?”

“I want t-to cum… please,”

He pressed his thumb to your entrance with his free hand, adding the smallest hint of pressure to make you moan.

“Be more specific.”

“Please, I want to cum… make me cum,”

It wasn't exactly coherent, the words spilling from you,

He clicked his tongue,

“If you just want to cum you can do that yourself,”

Another jolt of pressure, his thumb pulling your lips open slightly to expose your opening more clearly.

“What. Do. You. Want?”

You whined under his boot heel, trying to wiggle your ass to push against his thumb, desperate for any contact.

“I want you to make me cum, Crosshair, please make me cum! Kriff, please?”

He made a contented noise that rumbled through his chest, sliding his thumb forward to spread your petals, lifting the hood over your clit… and blew.

Your senses exploded, all your muscles going tight at once and he lunged, sucking your button roughly, nipping his teeth against the bundled nerves driving the climax deeper through your brain. You came, rigid against his firm hold, unable to even cry out as your lungs were crushed by your own spasming. Fluid ran down your legs, chased by his tongue. There were sparkles in your vision, your synapsis on fire… and then you were spent, falling limp and gasping against him.

He kissed your ass cheek, then bit it lightly before pulling your bottoms back up and untangling himself from your numb limbs.

Crosshair rose from the bed, stretched, then reached for his discarded armor… confusing you,

“Was that really all you wanted?”

He looked over his shoulder at you, now sprawled prone over the bed, and smirked. A triumphant look danced behind his eyes.

“What else might I want?”

Your gaze roved over his tight muscles, barely hidden under the tight black fabric of his under clothing. Down his shoulders to his hips, the tight buttock and thighs. Your appraisal wasn't unnoticed and he turned slightly, letting you look at him more. His chest, his abs… your eyes darted down to the straining fabric at his groin and a small, needy moan escaped you as your pussy twitched.

“Don't you want to fuck me?”

A slight smile played across his lips, dancing behind his eyes.

“Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Stars yes…”

There was no use denying it. Now that he was here, partially stripped and hard for you there was no way you were letting him leave.

“Fuck me, Crosshair,”

He turned fully towards you, stroking himself thoughtfully through the fabric of his pants.

“I suppose I could fuck you, How ba~dly… do you want me to fuck you, inmate?”

“Badly… awfully, Please take me, Crosshair,”

You ground your hips into the mattress, watching him standing there, stroking himself lazily…so nonchalant…

Damn it…

“Take your close off, inmate.”

He stepped back, leaning himself against the table.

You obediently say up, tugging the hem of your shirt up.

“Slower.”

The command hit you in your core, and your breath came shaky as you, slowly, tugged the shirt up over your breasts, then head… and it was off. Your nipples hardened at the sudden cold air, having dressed too hastily to find under things. Next came the pants, and you hooked your thumbs into the band.

“Stand for those.”

You stood with a wobble, legs still feeling more like jelly than flesh and bone. The waistband slipped down your hips, your thighs, then fell to the floor.

He palmed his covered cock as he took in your nudity.

“Be a good girl and give me a little turn,”

His fingers made a spin motion and you swallowed, waiting for a sense of indignation, an urge to stop this that never came. You obeyed. Turning slowly, letting him see your back and ass, then facing him again.

“Very good… now get on all fours, facing me,”

You flushed, but did as he said, lowering yourself to your hands and knees to look at him from the floor.

“Come here, like that. Crawl to me, sweetheart.”

You balked for the first time in this new routine, flushing a deep red at the humiliating command. He cocked an eyebrow,

“If you don't want to I could always leave…”

You gritted your teeth, knowing you weren't likely to deny anything he asked from this point, and crawled forward. The bare panel flooring was hard against your knees but you closed the distance, coming even with his legs casually leaning against the table.

“Now tell me… what do you want?”

You gulped, your vision completely dominated by his visage poised over you. Relaxed, in control, slowly stroking the outline of his length to tease you more than himself.

“I-i want you to fuck me, Crosshair,”

“You can do better than that… what exactly do you want?”

He gripped himself pointedly through his blacks and your vision blurred with need. Lips trembling, a hint of pleading back in your voice,

“I want your cock…”

“Where do you want it?”

…

“Inside me.”

Flushing, you looked away, his knee nudged your chin to meet his eyes again.

“All together now, from the top…”

“I want you to fuck me, Crosshair, I want your… cock inside of me.”

Your eyes stayed obediently on his, his knee still pressed to your cheek.

“You can be nicer than that,”

Exasperation forced a frustrated sigh from you, causing his eyebrows to raise again and your jaw to clench.

“Please, fuck me, Crosshair… I want your cock inside me… please…”

As the first plea left you a shiver went down your spine, a small thrill from the submissive action. You nuzzled the knee pressed to your chin, forcing his eyes to widen for a brief second.

“If you want it so badly, darling, why don't you just take it then?”

He slid to sit on the bench proper, legs spread wide to either side of you, crotch jutted towards your eager, lustful expression.

“Why don't you fuck yourself on my cock?”

He smirked down, rolling his hips subtly to challenge you into action.

Perhaps he didn't expect you to take the invitation, but as your hands lashed out to hook his waistband, the fasteners pulled open with a sharp snap… he stilled. Elbows on the table behind him, still leaned in a relaxed posture, but frozen in a temporary trance. You tugged the fly the rest of the way open and his heavy cock sprang free, bopping you lightly in the nose making you flinch involuntarily.

This broke the spell as he failed to repress a snort of amusement. You narrowed your eyes at him and he composed himself as well as he could with that glint in his eye.

“Sorry, go on,”

You nipped at the head of his bobbing member making him hiss between his teeth. A hand roughly caught the back of your neck pulling you up off your knees and into his lap.

“I believe I told you to fuck yourself, inmate,”

His free hand grabbed your hip, grinding your bare sex against his shaft for emphasis eliciting a needy groan from your chest.

You decided to comply, tucking your feet over his thighs for leverage, you angled your torso up over him. He rested his arms back on the table once more as you balanced your hands on his shoulders. His length slid along your folds as you moved and you shivered, poised with him resting against your entrance. Rivulets of arousal trickled down his velvety skin to catch in the soft brush of pubic hair nested around its base.

“Well, I'm waiting…”

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath counting a heartbeat before opening them again. Meeting his eyes you couldn't help but think his features seemed softer from up here.

Easing your thigh muscles down, you carefully pushed him into yourself, slowly… an inch, then withdrawing, dropping an inch further, making sure he was lubricated with you from base to tip. When he was fully docked inside you ground your hips into him, feeling his hard length pushing deep against your inner limit and you moaned in satisfaction.

Finally,

He was biting his lip, keeping his reactions to a minimum as you began to move on him. Desperate little hops with your hips to bounce yourself. He seemed to enjoy you doing all the work, eyes dropping to watch how your breasts bobbed in front of him. A sliver of his tongue darted across his lips but he didn't move, didn't react, as he watched you ride him, desperately using him to get your self off.

You were frustrated, wanting it harder but knowing better than to ask for help. That wasn't what you were told to do. So you rolled your hips, bucking against him to find that bliss yourself.

Leaning back, you put your hands on his knees, tightening your pelvis and putting more power into your hips. His calm veneer broke and he grabbed onto your hips, keeping you anchored on his shaft as climax started to cloud your vision. Your motions and breathing became erratic, taking his guiding force on your hips as permission to let go you ground against him with reckless abandon, hurtling yourself over the edge,

“F~u~...”

Your voice cut out with a strangled cry and he pulled you down on him, sheathing himself in you with an ecstatic groan as your muscles convulsed and clamped down on his shaft.

He lifted you up, carrying you back to the bunk, plunking your ass against the mattress before pushing you over to lay on your stomach.

Your arms were grabbed and held behind your back once more as he angled himself back into your warm cunt. His weight dropped onto your back and you were pressed flat under him. His hips started to pump into you, quick and sharp as he grew comfortable with your shape under him and he started to ramp up the force.

A vulgar clapping of skin echoed through the room as he pounded into you, grunting from exertion as he took you hard. His free hand turned your head to look over your shoulder at him before dropping to grip your neck.

“Do you like this, sweetheart?”

All he got for an answer was a series of sharp, high pitched gasps from the rapid snapping of his hips.

“Getting wet for me like that…”

He groaned in his throat, grinding deeply into you making you sob in pleasure.

“You like the thought of being my cock slave?”

“Yes… kriffs sake yes…”

“That's right.”

Your breathing went ragged as he pushed himself up on his knees, pulling your waist with him. He moved his arms and hips in tandem to pump his full length in and out of you and you broke, orgasm driving your walls to slam around his thrusting rod until he couldn't take it any more himself.

He pulled your shoulders up, arms sliding around your chest and hand cupping your jaw hooking fingers into your mouth. You were held against his chest as his cock twitched violently inside of you, a throb for every spurt of seed he shot into your warmth.

He nuzzled into your neck breathless, tone softer than it had been,

“You were so good for me, darling… so good…”

You couldn't answer around his fingers, so you sucked them, sliding your tongue between them as he groaned.

~~~

The last piece of his armor latched on with a click as you dried your hair, thinking about this new arrangement as you looked at the food still on the table… you weren't sure you could complain. Well you could but…

You glanced over at him, adjusting something at his wrist before he looked up, finding you fully dressed as well.

…

“Alright… come on then,”

“What? C’mon where?”

He paced over to the door, tapping at the panel.

“You’ve been released. The doors been unlocked for days,”

“Wha-”

As the realization hit you anger washed through your senses and with out thinking you grabbed the fruit from the tray, chucking it at his head.

He caught it deftly and with a smirk in your direction, took a big bite out of the flesh, letting the juice run down his chin.

#tbb #the bad batch #tbb crosshair #crosshair smut #crosshairxreader #crosshair x reader #ct 9904 #crosshair #star wars fanfiction #tbb fanfiction #imperial crosshair #sniper saturday #tbb x reader #tbb x you #clone trooper crosshair #clonethirst #clone thirsting #Can you spot where TahnyXCross bled through a little? I can't help it deep down hes a silly goose

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fullmetalgirl98 · 2 days

Text

I realize that using the term "like" for the description of a trauma may seem indelicate, but I use it not in the sense of "I like to see this person suffer in this way rather than this other way," as much as in terms of how much sense it makes what we have been fed of.

Can something like that really trigger trauma with those specific characteristics? Wouldn't it have made more sense for Hifumi to develop a fear for humanity in general, rather than just for women?

Please, if you thought Hifumi's trauma was something different, or if you liked just part of the explanation, write it down under this poll.

Ok, I'm glad to see that the result of the survey is in line with what I expected. I'm going to express my personal thoughts under the cut, if you're interested. In any case, this is just my opinion. I felt I needed to vent somewhere, you're very free to disagree, obviously.

As for me, I'm not at all convinced by the story we've been fed. I always believed that Hifumi was sexu*lly ab*sed at school by Honobono and other girls (ergo, the fear of women). And I will remain convinced of this, despite what is now the canon.

Imo, something must have prompted the authors to change the initial idea (out of fear, perhaps??? A theme too heavy for Hypmic? Idk ... The fact remains that heavy themes have been dealt with in abundance, I don't see why treat Hifumi differently). It simply doesn't work for me. The issue turns into a “simple” act of bullying, in this way, but the clues and allusions that have been scattered all these years hinted at something quite different (and I think we all pretty much agree on that).

Does the motivation provided by the drama justify fear solely and only toward women? Imo, absolutely not. It would have made more sense to develop a fear for humanity in general, at this point, and to become a hikikomori. But this is not Hifumi's case. And then let's remember that the theme of bullying has already been addressed with Jyushi, yet the latter (whose grandmother was even killed!!!!!) did not develop any kind of trauma!

Now, it's clear that different people react to events in individual ways, but as far as I'm concerned, this just has no way of working with the premise with which Hifumi's character started out. Besides, Hifumi's work itself is, to a certain extent, about love and pleasure (obviously within limits). His very MC is a reference to the sexual sphere!!!

Let's remember that he only feels “strong” when he wears the jacket. What sense would this make with the explanation provided to us??? To me, the act of putting on the jacket and regaining confidence makes sense from a perspective in which, by antithesis, one is responding to an act of forced denudation, which obviously makes one vulnerable. It makes sense in the moment when Hifumi would be forcibly stripped by a group of girls (if Honobono had been alone, he would have developed a phobia exclusively against her, no?), hence his fear of women when he doesn't have his armor, his jacket (= his clothes to cover his body).

Hifumi has always felt a great deal of difficulty talking about what happened to him, shame. And Doppo, of course, didn't mention it at all, not even to Jakurai. This of course would have to be done in any case, because these are personal facts, in the end...But the matter was made too important and too secret to be, as I said, “a simple act of bullying at school.” What would have been the point of not saying anything about such a thing to Jakurai for years??!

One thing, however, does make sense. And it was the very thing I couldn't understand from the previous drama tracks, namely what Honobono did to Hifumi's brother-in-law and father. I approve of the explanation, it makes sense. But again, what sense does it make for the mother and sister to judge and repudiate Hifumi for this??? How is he to blame for that? Also, excuse me...Honobono would have seduced them but not Hifumi??? This does not make the slightest sense.

This drama was a deep disappointment and I'm still furious because I waited too many years for answers that were then not at all satisfactory nor logical.

The impression that @justanotherniky and I got is that they wanted to soften some heavy criticisms of Japanese society that perhaps went too far at the beginning of a project which was not thought to take off so much and that now are no longer the case to make so blatant. In particular, now, I'm referring to Doppo, which was the quintessential criticism of the Japanese work environment. Suddenly he's doing great at work, the boss is pleased with him, he has become the best employee. But WTF??? NO???? As nice as it is to see Doppo treated well, for once, finally, this is not how it works! We are sweeping the dust under the rug! It would have made much more sense for Doppo to quit, to rebel! And okay, he did in a sense, but we still did not reach a point to the “work” issue that oppressed and characterized him. His growth had to be in that direction! Now that would have represented personal growth, for a character like him! Taking the reins of his own life, setting up his own business, I don't know! Instead they just improved the environment around him.

I'm so mad, I swear.

#matenrou #hypnosis mic #hypmic #麻天狼 #.麻天狼 #hifumi izanami #izanami hifumi #not for you #hypmic drama track #anime #manga #polls #honobono keitoin #keitoin honobono #doppo kannonzaka #kannonzaka doppo #jinguji jakurai #jakurai jinguji

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