#While they’re literally still on the battlefield

[deathlordcorpseking]

Ulysses Week Day 5: Freespace

(but a day late because I had a lot of work to do)

Someone made a post talking about photographs in the wasteland for Ulysses Week and like??? I never thought of that before??? Very interesting tho so here’s my courier making Ulysses take a selfie with her after the battle of Hoover Dam.

[david-talks-sw]

Debunking more myths in the GFFA: the Jedi and the clones.

I wrote a post debunking the various myths about how "the Jedi condone slavery", a while ago. Something I had omitted (because it's such a big topic) was the following two statements that concern the clone troopers' relations with the Jedi:

"The clones were genetically bred to have accelerated growth, so they're technically child soldiers."

"The clones were slaves of the Jedi."

Both the above statements are inaccurate, let's explore why. 

"The clones were child soldiers"

Let's get the easy one out of the way first, because it's a logic that cuts both ways. If age is our only determination of the maturity of a Star Wars character, then Grogu is not a baby. He is aged 50, and is thus a middle-aged man.

Who cruelly eats the babies of a woman...

... and knowingly tortures animals for his own sadistic pleasure.

Of course, I'm kidding. Grogu's none of the above things.

The narrative frames him as a cute baby who does innocent baby stuff. Him eating the eggs is played off as comedic, as is him lifting with the frog. To this day, some fans still call him "Baby Yoda".

Conversely, despite the clones being 10/14-years-old, their actions, behaviors, way of thinking, sense of humor, morals etc, are all those of an adult.

Like, Ahsoka is technically older than Rex in this scene.

The scene doesn't portray them as peers, though. This isn't written as "a teen and a tween talking". No, Rex looks, acts and behaves like a grown-up and is thus framed as such by the narrative.

You can make the argument "they're child soldiers", but (unless you're doing so in bad faith) you'd also have to argue that "Grogu's an adult".

"The clones were the Jedi's slaves"

Nope. For all intents and purposes, they're in the same boat as the Jedi, who George Lucas stated multiple times had been drafted to fight in the war.

Again: both the Jedi (monk/diplomats untrained for fighting on a battlefield) and clones (literally bred en masse only to fight) are being forced to fight by Palpatine and the Senate.

Though, on paper, the clones were commissioned by Jedi Master Sifo-Dyas, it was actually done by the Sith (who either manipulated or assassinated Sifo-Dyas then stole his identity, depending on the continuity you choose to adhere to). The rest of the Jedi had no idea these clones were being created.

So while the clones are slaves... they're not owned by the Jedi.

They're the army of the Republic, they belong to the Senate. This isn't exactly a scoop, they refer to the clones as something to purchase...

... and manufacture.

As far as the Senate’s concerned, clones are property, like droids. 

Like there's a whole subplot in The Bad Batch about this very point: after the war, the clones are decommissioned and left out to dry because they literally have no rights, they served their purpose.

The only trooper to ever canonically blame the Jedi for the clones' enslavement is Slick, who the narrative frames as having been bribed and manipulated by Asajj Ventress into betraying his comrades.

Also, the only canonical Jedi shown to ever be mean, dismissive or mistreating the clones in any way, is Pong Krell.

And it's eventually revealed he’s in fact a full-on traitor, hence why the story frames him as an antagonistic dick from the moment he's introduced. He doesn’t represent the Jedi in any way.

We know this because the other Jedi we’ve been shown are always prioritizing their clones’ lives over theirs, if given the chance.

Finally, if we wanna get even more specific... as Commander-in-Chief of the Grand Army of the Republic (GAR), the clones belong to Palpatine. 

Palpatine who is a Sith Lord. 

Palpatine who arranged for the creation of the clones and had them all injected with a chip that would activate upon hearing a code-word...

... and forced them to murder their Jedi without hesitation or remorse.

When you bear all that  ⬆️  in mind and when you read this quote by George Lucas...

"The Jedi won't lead droids. Their whole basis is connecting with the life force. They'd just say, 'That's not the way we operate. We don't function with non-life-forms.” So if there is to be a Republic army, it would have to be an army of humans."    - The Star Wars Archives: 1999-2005, 2020  

... narratively-speaking, everything falls into place.

Sidious knows that:

If he orchestrates a war designed to thin the Jedi's numbers, corrupt their values and plunge the galaxy into chaos...

If he wants to draft the Jedi - peace-keeping diplomats who’d never willingly join the fray - to fight in his war...

... then the only way they won't resist the draft and abstain from fighting is if they think joining the conflict will save lives.

So he creates a set of cruel, sadistic villains for them to face, opponents who will target innocent civilians at every turn...

... and instead of lifeless droids, he prepares for the Jedi an army of men... living, mortal people who, despite being well-trained, will be completely out of their league when facing the likes of Dooku...

... Ventress...

... Grievous...

... Savage Opress...

... or the defoliator, a tank that annihilates organic matter.

Thus, in order to save as many clone and civilian lives, the Jedi join the fray despite knowing that doing so will corrupt their values. 

And as the war rages on, a bond of respect is formed between the two groups.

Clearly, the Jedi don't like the fact that the Republic is using the clones to fight a war, but for that matter, they don't like being in a war, in fact they advocated against it.

However, it's happening regardless of their issues with the idea or personal philosophies. Said The Clone Wars writer Henry Gilroy:

"I’d rather not get into the Jedi’s philosophical issues about an army of living beings created to fight, but the Jedi are in a tough spot themselves, being peacekeepers turned warriors trying to save the Republic."

And bear in mind, the Jedi are basically space psychics, the clones are living beings that they can individually feel in the Force... 

... so the Jedi feel every death but need to move on, regardless, only being able to mourn the troopers at the end of every battle.

We see this in the Legends continuity too, by the way.

(that is, when the writers actually try to engage with the narrative)

Also, if you ask the clones, they’re grateful the Jedi have their backs.

When Depa Billaba voices her concerns about how the war is impacting the Jedi's principles, troopers Grey and Styles are quick to make it clear how grateful they all are for the Jedi's involvement:

So the clones aren't the Jedi's slaves. If anything, they're both slaves of the Republic (considering how low the Jedi's status actually is in the hierarchy).

Only I'd argue the clones have it much, much worse. 

The Senate sees the Jedi as "ugh, the holier-than-thou space-monk lapdogs who work for us"... but a Jedi has the option to give up that responsibility. They can leave the Order, no fuss or stigma. 

A clone trooper cannot leave the GAR! If they do, they’re marked for treason and execution. Again, they’re not perceived as “people”.

And it doesn’t help that the Kaminoans, the clones’ very creators, see the troopers as products/units/merchandise. A notion that the Jedi are quick to correct whenever they get the chance.

How The Clone Wars writers describe the clones' relationship with the Jedi.

George Lucas hasn’t spoken much about this subject aside from the quote from further up. But to be fair... the Prequels aren’t about the clones’ dynamic with the Jedi, so it makes sense that he wouldn’t talk on that subject so much.

He did mention that part of The Clone Wars’ perks is that he could:

“Do stories about some of the individual clones and get to know them.”

But that’s as far as it gets. 

So for this part, I'm just gonna let Dave Filoni, showrunner of The Clone Wars and the upcoming series Ahsoka, and TCW writer Henry Gilroy - both of whom worked closely with Lucas - take the wheel. They make themselves pretty clear on how the clone/Jedi dynamic is meant to be viewed. 

Here’s Henry Gilroy:

"In my mind, the Jedi see the clones as individuals, living beings that have the same right to life as any other being, but understand that they have a job to do."

"The clones see the Jedi as their commanding officers on one hand, but also, at least subconsciously, they look to them for clues to social/moral behavior."    

"Some clones may find themselves getting philosophical leadership from the Jedi that helps them answer some of the deeper questions of life."    

"We thought this was a great opportunity to show how the Jedi interact with clones. Specifically, Yoda in a teaching role of the clones, who were socially new, who kind of grew up— who were created to fight, and he really broadened their horizons and helped them realize there was a great big universe out there that was bigger than just fighting and killing."    

And here’s Dave Filoni’s comments:

"I truly believe that the Jedi try to humanize their clones and make them more individual, as Henry says."    

"I think we saw that in Revenge of the Sith, when the Clones were colorful and named under the Jedi Generals, and then in the final shots of the film with Palpatine and Vader near the new Death Star, the ships are grey, the color and life is sucked out. The Stormtroopers are only numbers and identified by black and white armor or uniforms in A New Hope." 

"The soldiers have become disposable to the Emperor."    

"That is something the Jedi would never do."    

"Yoda teaching the clones much like he taught Luke. ‘Cause that was kind of natural for [the Jedi], a natural instinct to take to these clones like they’re students."    

None of the above quotes from two different writers of The Clone Wars, who had many interactions with George Lucas, frame the Jedi and the clones’ relationship in a negative way. 

How much more proof do we need that "the clones were slaves of the Jedi” isn’t the intended narrative?

My point being that while the clones' ordeal is indeed horrible, the Jedi have nothing to do with it. The narrative of The Clone Wars always frames it as the fault of the Sith, the Senate and the Kaminoans.

If you go by the intended narrative, the Jedi were the clones' teachers and brothers-in-arms. The clones and the Jedi were not just comrades.

They were friends.

[sagesskies]

ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴅᴇꜱᴛʀᴜᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴅᴇɪᴛʏ

✒ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴏɴᴇ ᴡʜᴏ ᴀᴄᴄᴇᴘᴛᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇᴍ, ᴡᴀꜱ ʏᴏᴜ

ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴠɪᴄᴛᴏʀʏ ɢᴏᴅ

☏ - ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇᴍᴀɪʟ: ᴍʀ. ꜱᴀɢᴇ ɪꜱ ꜱᴏ ꜱᴏʀʀʏ ꜰᴏʀ ʜᴏᴡ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʜᴀꜱ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ. ʜᴇ'ᴅ ᴀʟꜱᴏ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ @hana-no-seiiki ꜰᴏʀ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ɪɴꜱᴘɪʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴘʀᴏᴠɪᴅᴇᴅ ʜɪᴍ, ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ꜱᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ ᴀꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰᴜᴇʟ ᴏꜰ ᴍᴏᴛɪᴠᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ʜᴇ ɴᴇᴇᴅᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ᴏɴ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ.

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇꜱ: ᴡᴀʀ, ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ, ᴛʀᴇᴀꜱᴏɴ, ꜱᴛᴀɴᴅᴀʀᴅ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ʙᴇʜᴀᴠɪᴏʀ, ᴍɪɴᴅ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ, ɢᴏᴅ ɪɴᴄᴇꜱᴛ (ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ Qʜᴇᴛᴏʜʀ), ꜱᴡᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ. ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍᴇ ɪꜰ ɪ ᴍɪꜱꜱᴇᴅ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴇʟꜱᴇ!

Yandere Destruction Deity who, just like you and all your other siblings, was born from the remains of Kases: the strongest of the Great ones. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who even then, was already an outcast from the others in the (then yet to be formed) pantheon.

Instead of joining Uren in their rebellion, they chose to spend their time doing more fun activities. Like exploring the new world they've just been born into, interacting with all the strange yet fascinating creatures, fiddling with the inventions and gadgets crafted by the Great ones, all with you, the only one among their siblings who seemed to actually get them. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who spends days with you in the garden you’ve cultivated, laughing and bonding. Growing closer together.

You talk about many things; stars, Kases, your siblings, Uren, the rebellion. It was inevitable that your conversations would eventually go in that direction, they just wished it didn’t have to be so soon. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who immediately tries to convince you to back out of the war when you tell them you’re helping Uren. You can’t! You’re too weak, too soft.

They’ve seen the beasts the Great ones have at their beck and call, and not to mention the giants, the cyclopes, and all manner of creature they were going to sic on Kases’ children. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who begrudgingly approaches Uren, and tells you not long after that they’re going to join in this foolish endeavor. They can’t exactly leave you alone, you’ll need somebody to protect you after all.

Who cares if they themselves don’t know the first thing about fighting. All you have to do is swing some blade, right? Bah, it doesn’t matter! They’re going to keep you safe, nothing will ever even come close to harming you as long as they’re here.

Yandere Destruction Deity who soon finds that they’re rather good at this whole fighting thing, hell, they’re probably the best. Probably only second to Itia, but they were a brute who simply relied on sheer force to get what they wanted, however when it came to skill? To prowess? To the ability to wield a weapon like it was simply an extension of your own body? Nobody could beat Qhetohr in that aspect.

Yandere Destruction Deity who became an entity whose name was whispered only in the darkness illuminated by a campfire, between soldiers of the Great ones who dreaded meeting them on the battlefield, especially once they were able to harness the power of the literal void to their advantage.

They were reminded again of the overwhelming difference between the two of you when they learned that you had become a name that was spoken by hopeful prisoners who wished for you to arrive to grant them freedom, while they would solve problems with their blade, you were far more diplomatic in your approach. Convincing generals to side with Uren, and freeing the enslaved soldiers. 

Yandere Destruction Deity, who even amidst the rebellion, always makes time for you regardless of how busy they get with managing their own forces. They fuss over you, and grow red with fury whenever they see a new scar on what used to be a flawless landscape.

But all worries are washed away whenever you flash them a kind smile, and assure them that all is well; “This shall come to pass.” You remind them, and they must force themselves to accept it. Regardless of how they wish they could just shield you away from all this violence, they’re stronger now, they could protect you, you could both still run away from this. However you only shake your head and tell them you’re both in too deep now to quit.

Yandere Destruction Deity who runs up to you, swings you up, and spins you around, laughing all the while. The rebellion is over, and Uren won. The both of you can retire back to your garden! And spend the rest of eternity there, just you and them. Isn’t that amazing? It’s the best thing that came out of this stupid war. Forget the fact that all these enslaved races have been liberated, who cares really? All they can think about is how you’re now safe in their arms. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who isn’t all too pleased to learn that they’ve been appointed as Uren’s general for their exemplary performance during the war. What the hell? They didn’t sign up for this! They’re meant to spend their retirement with you, damn it. Yes, they enjoyed fighting, but not as much as being with you, duh. Stupid Uren! But after some convincing from you, they reluctantly accept this position. 

Yandere Destruction Deity decides that this isn’t too bad, really, not when they get to put down any possible threats to your safety. There’s a lot of people who’d like to get their filthy hands on you, you know? Especially since you played such a big part in Uren winning the war. Don’t worry, they’ll get rid of all these bugs for you. It’s no big deal for somebody with their power. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who is confused when they learn of Uren’s new creation: Humans. What were these things sculpted in the gods’ own image? What were they meant to do? How long could they last in a fight? Safe to say, when their questions were answered, Qhetohr wasn’t too pleased. They don’t get what’s so great about them, when they’re basically just useless flesh sacks. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who still doesn’t get it when you explain to them that it’s because humans have so much boundless potential that they’re so exceptional, but they lie and promise you that they do. Even if they’re soft, squishy, and the least impressive of all of Uren’s creations, they’ll spare them. Especially since you’re so enamored with them.

Yandere Destruction Deity who gets restless when things finally become peaceful. They thought they’d be happy now that there’s less threats to you, but their body has gotten so used to fighting all the time that anything else feels strange. Any time they hold your hand, they have to remind themself to loosen their grip, and any time you come close to even hugging them they have to restrain themself from grabbing you by the collar and flipping you over then pinning you to the ground. Though… in retrospect it doesn’t sound that bad in the right context.

Yandere Destruction Deity who spreads whispers, inciting fear, paranoia, and destruction. Mortals, who had at that point established tight-knit communities, became wary of their neighbors, and it didn’t take long before conflict was starting to brew between them. Their words even affected Uren, who was growing suspicious of their own son, Ebris, the god of the Sun, who was more beloved by the pantheon than they were. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who encourages Uren as they descend into tyranny. Delighting at the feeling of warm blood staining their skin once more, as they cut off the heads of who Uren perceived as treasonous. Mortals, monsters, even some who were minor gods, none were safe from Qhetohr’s ‘punishing’ blade. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who feigns innocence when confronted by the other gods of their possible involvement in Uren’s change, a sly smirk on their face as they tell their siblings they don’t know what on earth they're talking about! They swear on Kases’ grave. But when it’s you who asks them if they really have no involvement, they falter at the fact that you’d think of them as the cause behind this, even if it’s true, their chest still clenches at the thought you could think of them like this. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who denies it, of course they would. But the look in your eyes tells them enough. They ask you if you’re going to tell the others, and they can’t help but smile when they see you visibly hesitate. You tell them you’ll keep it a secret, but you won’t dissuade the others from trying to discover the truth themselves. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who isn’t surprised when another rebellion emerges, this time led by Ebris. It was inevitable really. But what truly shocks them is when they learn that you’re joining Ebris’ faction. They knew you’d never side with Uren, not when everything they were doing now stood against you as the God of Mercy. But never did they think you’d betray them by joining forces with Ebris. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who never thought it’d be you forcing them to their knees in surrender, they’ve never seen this expression on your face. So cold, yet in your eyes they can see pity, and so much sorrow and regret. It was like you blame yourself for this six decade long mess. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who fully expects to receive the same fate as Uren, a beheading for all of the world to see, but is surprised when they see you speaking to Ebris in hushed tones. Your gaze flickers to them every so often as the conversation continues on. What are you doing? Are you actually- 

Yandere Destruction Deity who is stunned speechless when Ebris announces that instead of a beheading, they would instead have their powers restricted and be imprisoned.

Compared a beheading, this was an improvement. Or, at least it seemed like that to others. In reality death would have been better, so much better than years locked away unable to see you.

Twas the night before Qhetohr would be locked away, trapped in one of Ularus’ inventions. The thought of being imprisoned wasn’t what bothered them, but instead being apart from you for that long. 

They’ve been told tales by Nuyja, stories of husbands away at war, and of wives mourning the distance that had to be between them. It always sounded so dramatic, probably because it was, but right now they’re starting to feel like one of those wives. 

As the Ofriedian metal dug into their pale, marble skin that you always admired for its flawless texture, their dark eyes caught onto something past their bars. The familiar hem of a [f/c] robe. Their eyes widened, and their suspicions were only confirmed when they saw you walk out from wherever you were hiding. 

“[N-Name]?” They spoke in a whisper, like you were some animal that they’d scare away if they spoke too loudly, “Is that you?” They got up from where they sat on the cold, stone floors and approached the bars.

You pulled down the hood of your robe, “It’s me, Qhetohr.” Your voice was equally as gentle, but that was just how you always spoke. Instead of greeting him with your usual smile, your face was impassive and as impenetrable as stone. 

“Have you come to free me?” Qhetohr knew better than to hope, but they couldn’t help it. Ever since they’ve been imprisoned here while Ularus worked out the final kinks in their next cage, all they had for company was their mind.

And all their mind could do to stave off the madness that came with boredom was daydream of a life with you in seclusion, on some beautiful island where you could have a new garden and they would have enough room to take out their frustrations on the wildlife.

The disappointment that followed when you shook your head was immeasurable. 

“Oh…” 

You are silent in response, you were never one for speaking much. You always preferred to listen whenever you talked with Qhetohr, giving your wise input every now and then. They didn’t mind the silence before, but why did it bother them so much now? 

“Qhetohr,” Your voice was different as well, they noticed, colder than before, “Before you are imprisoned, I must know one thing.” 

Qhetohr placed a hand around one of the bars separating you two, “What is it then?” If only they didn’t have this chunky bracelet, perhaps they could’ve reached a hand through the bar and touched you. 

You took in a deep breath, and let out a shakier one. You licked the bottom of your lip, and then wrapped a hand around the same bar Qhetohr was gripping. You moved your face closer to them, and they tried not to gulp, “Do you regret what you’ve done?” 

At that, Qhetohr had no answer. 

You had the rare ability of being able to render Qhetohr speechless, cultivated from countless hours listening to them, observing them, and well honed through debates about topics such as the difference between the gods and the Great ones, the meaning of life, and whether or not the gods were all that different from mortals. 

It was the one of the many reasons you were the only god they had a truly functioning relationship with.

At their silence, your face contorts. Your brows furrow, your lips purse, and your [e/c] eyes fill with what can only be described as sorrow. They cannot bring themself to look at you, for they do not want you to see the shame that is starting to invade their heart. 

Your hand falls from the bar, and as it does it brushes against their own and they restrain themselves from reaching out to try to clasp at your warm fingers, instead tightening their grip on the inflexible steel. 

When you speak, your voice is hoarse, and if Qhetohr were to look at you right now they swear your eyes would be wet with unshed tears.

“I truly am as weak as you say I am,” You speak quietly, voice barely above a whisper, “Despite the sins you’ve committed, I cannot find it in myself to hate you.” 

Their eyes widen, and their head snaps to look at you, but it is too late. The hood of your cloak is pulled back up, and you’ve already turned to leave. The last they see of you is the hem of the cloak they had sewn for you themselves.

Yandere Destruction Deity who is stuck in an endless void similar to the ones they are able to harness themself, and tries to break out. Even if their powers were restrained, surely they’d be able to access at least some of them, right? But unfortunately for them, nothing works. They’re stuck. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who wanders the endless void, trying to find a gap somewhere, some sort of imperfection Ularus made when creating this prison. All the while their mind races with thoughts of you. Your first meeting. Your laugh. Your smile. Your kind eyes. Your final expression as they were sealed away. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who feels like they’re going insane. They’ve never spent so much time without you before. They’re starting to feel like the mortals they’ve seen on the streets during Ebris’ rebellion, deprived and hungry for the filthy substances Boztrix’s temple produced. But all they’re craving is you, the sweetest drug they’ve ever tasted. Sometimes, they swear they can see you. A specter haunting them in this fucked up hell, comforting them yet at the same time driving him down the rabbit hole further and further.

Yandere Destruction Deity who swears that they see light, in what seemed like a never-ending black landscape. I-is it you? Have you come to free him from this cage- Oh wait, it’s just another one of Uren’s children. Vetnos, god of the Sea. They can’t help but sigh, they still remember when they used to bully the god when they were but a small babe. Scaring them using their void powers whenever he wouldn’t go to bed. Perhaps he’s coming to taunt them? Something something, “How ironic that you’re trapped in the same shadows you’ve used to haunt me with,” something like that, maybe?

If Vetnos thinks he looks any way intimidating, then he’s sorely mistaken. Even bound and trapped, Qhetohr could probably take him down. 

“What brings you here, insignificant son of Uren?” Qhetohr drawls, a single dark brow raised, “Here to taunt me? I thought you’d be more mature than that by now.” They can’t help but tease him, it’s not their fault that Vetnos was so fun to mess with, he always had such interesting reactions, even when he was a child. 

Vetnos glared at them, eyes the same color as the sea during a harsh storm, “Silence, Qhetohr, if I must remind you, it is you who is restrained here.” Qhetohr can see it in the way that Vetnos is carrying himself, the boy is practically shaking in those leather boots of his. 

“And if I must remind you,” Qhetohr sneers, and walks over to Vetnos till they were eye-to-eye, “I didn’t need my powers when I killed your father.” At that, Vetnos flinches. Dhealdir, the first God of War, and one of Uren’s lovers. Vetnos’ father was one of the best soldiers in Uren’s army, but Qhetohr was the general for a reason. 

Qhetohr smirked, and then backed away from Vetnos. They cross their arms, “You still haven’t answered my question Vetnos.” They tap their finger against their bicep, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling of the bracelet digging into the flesh of their forearm. 

Vetnos huffs, the storm brewing within his gaze tempered reluctantly, “I have come to offer you a deal.” 

It was hard for Qhetohr to restrain the urge to chuckle, and so they didn’t, the sound flowing easily past their lips, “Let me guess, you want me to fight for you in exchange for my freedom?” 

“What- How did you know that’s what I wanted?” Vetnos asked with a bewildered expression on his face. 

“Before I was ever the Deity of Destruction, I was simply an outcast among my siblings,” Qhetohr explains, “When I sided with Uren during their rebellion, they all changed their opinion about me rather quickly.” 

That’s how the gods were, unless you were able to give them something of value you were no better than the dirt beneath their heel. The only good thing about mortals is how they foolishly waste their time on things that don’t matter, they don’t care if something has a use or not, as long as they like it they’ll keep it around. 

“All my family wants from me, is for me to be the dog on the leash they can sic on their foes,” Qhetohr narrows their eyes at Vetnos, “What is there to suggest that you’ll be any different.” 

They smirked when they saw the vein bulge in Vetnos’ forehead and how he clenched his fists tighter, the gods never liked having their own flaws pointed out to them, it made the reality that they were just as imperfect as the lowly mortals they looked down upon all the more real. 

“Anyways, how’re you going to free me in the first place?” Qhetohr asked. Ularus’ creations were annoying as hell because the bastard always built them to only have one weakness, and it was always way too complex for its own good. 

Suddenly in Vetnos’ hand appeared an orb of water the size of a child’s toy ball, “Ularus always has such unorthodox solutions to his machines,” Vetnos played with the water idly, “That fact, all the gods are aware of.” 

Qhetohr rolled their eyes, “And so?” 

“So, I thought if you were to bind a god in a void devoid of anything except the never ending darkness,” Vetnos approached Qhetohr, who watched with wary eyes, and held the orb of water over one of their bindings, “It was best to go for the simple approach.” 

Vetnos dropped the orb of water, and it splashed onto the bracelet. 

Qhetohr stared, “Was that supposed to do something?” They should’ve known better than to trust the younger gods, but here they were, letting one drop a ball of water on their hand and getting it all wet. 

Vetnos sighed, it was clear to Qhetohr that whatever patience he had managed to gather was already starting to run out, “You are familiar with Ofriedian metal, correct?” 

Qhetohr’s gaze flicked over to Vetnos’ hand, which still hovered above their own, now soaking wet, hand, “It is older than you are, of course I am familiar with Ofriedian metal.” They sigh, “If all you are here for is to soak my hand, then I’d like you to go back where you came from-” 

But Vetnos interrupted them, “Ofriedian metal is surprisingly very similar to iron,” His fist then clenches, and the water coating the bracelet seems to change and then seep into it, “And iron, as you may know, rusts.” 

It started off small at first, but as the seconds passed, the change became more noticeable. The Ofriedian metal started to lose its dark color, and slowly the color of rust started to invade the bracelet. Qhetohr watched with rapt attention as one of their bindings, that after so many years, was finally showing the signs of age. They could feel the changes too, the sharp spikes that had pierced their skin when the bracelet locked itself onto their wrist were starting to recede into the bracelet. 

But then, Vetnos’ hand spread out, and whatever was happening ceased. 

“Fascinating…” Qhetohr murmured. If Vetnos had allowed it to continue, they would’ve been halfway over to being a free god. 

“You see the power I hold now, Qhetohr?” Vetnos’ voice held an arrogance that wasn’t there before, “I am your only way of escaping this prison.” He had a smirk on his face, and despite how it frustrated Qhetohr to be so weak as to need the help of others, they couldn’t deny that this was the first time in a long time that they ever dared to hope of being free. 

Qhetohr’s thoughts went back to you, as it always did during their time here. Would you be happy to see them, and welcome them back with your warm embrace? Or would you scorn them, and draw your blade against theirs? They hoped it’d be the former, but they had enough sense in them to know it’d most likely be the latter. But still, they had to take the chance that you value your relationship enough to show the mercy that you’re famed for.

Qhetohr sighed, “Fine,” They placed their hands on their waist, “What is it you want me to do?” 

Vetnos grinned, “Swear your allegiance to me,” From the expression on his face alone, Qhetohr knew the younger god was giddy. He looked like a boy again, instead of the divine being that was freeing a force that he could not hope to contain.

Qhetohr considered the offer. They did not find the idea of being bound to one of Uren’s sons pleasing, but then again, there were always loopholes to be exploited. As long as they can twist their words then whatever forces above the gods would turn a blind eye to what they planned to do. 

“Very well,” Qhetohr sighed, and then took a knee, “I, Qhetohr, child of Kases, and deity of destruction, madness, and the void, swear to fight for Vetnos, god of the seas, in exchange for my freedom.” They hadn’t sworn an oath of allegiance to any other since Uren, and so the words felt unnatural on their tongue. 

Vetnos puffed up his chest, and had all the arrogance of a spoiled child who finally got what he wanted after throwing a tantrum, “I, Vetnos, son of Uren, and god of the seas, accept this oath, and swear to free Qhetohr, deity of destruction, madness, and the void, from their chains.” 

A tense atmosphere seemed to envelop the two of them, as the entities above watched Vetnos, who approached Qhetohr and used his powers to destroy the bracelets, and the collar around their neck. When the last one clattered to the ground, a red, glowing thread appeared between the two of them, tying them together by the wrist. 

Qhetohr ignored the string connecting them to Vetnos, and instead inspected the holes that the bracelets left in their wrists. They were small, and interspaced perfectly, like the pricks of a needle. That is, if the needle pierced through their skin and buried itself deep in their godly flesh. 

“Since we’ve finished the vows, I must remind you of a few things Qhetohr-” But before Vetnos could continue speaking, and setting down rules that Qhetohr would be forced to follow for the rest of eternity as long as they’d serve under him, Qhetohr flourished their hand and a piece of the void that surrounded them leapt out and wrapped itself around Vetnos’ throat. 

Vetnos choked on the air, as he felt the newly formed collar wrapping itself tightly, with enough force to crush his throat. His stormy blue eyes bulged out and were filled with righteous fury at Qhetohr’s trickery. 

Qhetohr chuckled, “You didn’t really think I’d just let you do whatever you wanted to me, did you?” They shook their head and clicked their tongue in disapproval, “Truly, Vetnos, I thought with age comes wisdom, but clearly that doesn’t apply to you.” A wicked grin formed on their face, “But I guess that doesn’t apply to you.”

If Vetnos’ face wasn’t turning blue from the lack of oxygen, it would surely turn red from, if not anger, then humiliation. 

Qhetohr stroked their chin as they contemplated what to do with Vetnos. They could kill him, which would remove the oath, but then the other gods would get suspicious. They do not know why Vetnos wanted them to fight for him, but if he went so far as to look for them of all people, then that must only mean there was a war brewing among the gods once more, and Vetnos was one of the key players.

Qhetohr’s mind wandered, going back to the last conflict they participated in: Ebris’ rebellion. As their gaze focused on Vetnos, who was only turning more blue as the seconds ticked by, they recalled Uren, Vetnos’ parent, who they were able to control with the same darkness choking Vetnos.  

Their eyes lit up as an idea entered their head, and then they smirked, “Do not worry Vetnos, for this day shall not be your last,”  They reached out their hand, and the void from the collar flowed like smoke to Vetnos’ gasping mouth. Vetnos’ eyes widened, and he struggled even further, moving wildly like a fish out of water. 

“It would do you well not to fight it, Vetnos,” Qhetohr drawled, “Just let go, let it consume you.” 

Vetnos ignored their advice, and closed his mouth, keeping his lips firmly shut so as to not let more enter him. But they simply entered through his ears, and his nose instead. Soon, as more of the void started to fill him, Vetnos’ resistance faded and then he nodded his mouth once more, welcoming the darkness inside him. 

When there was no more collar around his neck, and Vetnos’ eyes held a strange gleam, Qhetohr smiled, sharp and unnerving. They did not need to speak, and Vetnos fell to his knees, and then bent his back and pressed his head against the floor, right in front of Qhetohr’s feet. 

“I, Vetnos, son of Uren, and god of the seas, release Qhetohr, deity of destruction, madness, and the void from their oath.” 

The string binding them snapped, and Qhetohr let out a deep sigh of relief. Finally, they were now truly free. 

Qhetohr gestured for Vetnos to rise, and he did. They raised their hand, and called upon the void that had once been their prison, and it obediently followed their orders, and gathered swiftly in their hand. 

Once the last of it joined in, what they held was a pure black cube. They then placed their other hand on top of it, and crushed it as one would crush a fly.

Qhetohr looked around, and was pleased to see the bright blue sky, to feel the tall grass tickling their legs, and the radiant sun that had trapped them in the first place beating down upon their pale skin. 

Thoughts of you immediately flooded their head, and a smile formed on their face. Not harsh, not cruel, but instead it was one that a poet would make thinking of their beloved muse. 

“Soon, [Name],” Qhetohr relishes in how the sound of your name still rolls off their tongue as naturally as their own, “I will be your steadfast companion once more, and no war will ever separate us.”

Yandere Destruction Deity who never thought they’d be able to leave the stupid box, but here they are, neck free from that heavy collar, wrists no longer being wrapped by those thick bracelets, the sun which they wish to consume with their void shining down on their marble skin. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who decides to lay low for a while. Although they want to see you so much it physically hurts to be apart from you, they have to be patient, though it’s hard, they never were good at this whole waiting thing like you were. They decide to learn more about what’s happened since their imprisonment nearly two centuries ago. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who is tempted to reveal themself and challenge the God of Victory to a duel to the death when they learn of the state of your relationship. No, they’re not just tempted. They need to. But for now, they’ll restrain themself. That can come later. You were always naive and oblivious to others' feelings for you, despite your seemingly infinite wisdom. They’re sure you didn’t mean for it to happen, it was surely that young upstart’s fault. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who finally decides that it’s the right moment to strike, and appears at your temple. It’s the only one you have. The one they built with you back all those years ago, when things were far more innocent than they ever were now. They’ll make sure not to make too much of a mess. 

They are outside your temple, the elegant, pale marble untouched by the war and devastation that has plagued the earth since they've been unleashed. Good, your house remains as safe as it was during Ebris’ rebellion.

Qhetohr’s eyes wander over the marble pillars, the sturdy roof, and the well-trimmed shrubbery; the green served as a fine contrast against the pure white of the marble. Nothing had changed much since the last time they were at your temple, and that was nearly two centuries ago. A new statue, a tree cut down, flowers blooming where there was only grass, but everything else was the same. 

They walked up the steps, their heart racing faster. Qhetohr paused in front of a statue. You, not in the nude like other gods, but instead in your old cloak, head bowed and a small, gentle smile on your face. Hands clasped together in prayer. For who, even they are not sure. 

Inscribed on the pedestal, are familiar words. 

[Name], God of mercy, Patron of slaves and the shackled, Father of Dakmes, Ugrena, Bagbris, Ather, Rhohdos, and many heroes. Kindest of the gods. 

Kindest of the gods. If a mortal were to call any other god this, they would be smited for such blasphemy. All gods were gracious, at least that was what they all claimed. But all the gods acknowledged that you were the one with the most love in your heart, and so this inscription remained. 

Qhetohr entered the temple, sandal clad feet silent, face cloaked just like your statue. The fabric is as dark as the voids they summoned, the only splash of color being the gold embroidery at the hem, a match for your own. 

One of your followers, young and still filled with the last flushes of boyhood, notices them first. He looks up from his sweeping, “Good day to you,” Like all your followers, he spoke slowly and with a calmness that is hard to find these past years, “What brings you to this temple?” Qhetohr noticed the discomfort in the boy's expression, he could tell that there was something strange about them but could not place his finger on it.

Qhetohr surveys the area, and finds that, save for a few other followers strewn about cleaning the floors, that it is barren. “Where are all the others?” They ask. 

“They are in the libraries, or in the gardens,” The youth replies, “Why? Are you looking for one? A sibling perhaps?” 

Qhetohr smirks, “Something like that,” You were more to them than just one of their many siblings, you were their only confidante, their first and only love, but to call you their brother was not wrong. 

“What is their name?” The youth inquires.

Qhetohr’s eyes narrow, like a fox, and they grin, “[Name],” They supply. The youth flinches, the oppressive aura he felt was because in front of him was a deity. He falls to his knees, the broom clattering to the ground and attracting the attention of the others, who watch as he bends down and his head presses against the cool marble. 

“Forgive me, lord!” The calmness in his voice is gone, replaced with a high pitched begging, “I- I did not realize I was in a presence of one as great as yourself-” 

“Shh,” The boy flinches, but does not dare look up, “Stand, child.” Qhetohr has a smirk on their face, but their eyes are as cold as any other god when they meet with the boy's fearful gaze. Not warm like yours, for there was never another god quite like you.

The others watched with wide eyes as they realized who it was they were staring at, and immediately resumed their work, but their ears could not help but continue to listen. 

“Where is he?” Qhetohr asks. 

“Lord [Name] is in the gardens,” The youth steadies his voice, and it impresses Qhetohr how assured he sounds despite how he's shaking like a leaf, “If you’d like I can-” 

“No need,” Qhetohr was already walking past him, “I know my way around.”

Qhetohr walked through the elegantly carved halls of your temple, unlike other temples, it was built during the first rebellion. From the hands of the cyclopes, who you had freed from the Great ones, and who had in return swore their lineage’s loyalty to not only Uren, but to you as well. 

Perhaps that was why among all the gods of the oldest pantheon, yours and Qhetohr’s siblings, you were one of the few that remained. On the very marble hung paintings depicting your deeds, drawn by the hands of Addia herself, a Great one who sided with the gods after you had slain her husband Lilios. 

Even if their eyes have seen these landscapes many times, they never grew wary of the sight of them. You swearing an oath to Uren. You freeing the Cyclopes. Your form clad in your Ofriedian armor, plunging your spear into Lilios’ neck. You fighting by Qhetohr’s side, watching their back as their blade slices through the necks of the Great one’s soldiers. 

Qhetohr slows to a stop at the last one, your face is as hard as stone, yet still as beautiful as no other god has ever been or will be, and kinder than any creature on earth. They remember watching as Addia painted this one, and critiquing how harsh she had made you look. In contrast, Qhetohr’s face is one of devilish delight as blood splatters on their pale skin. 

You shook your head when you saw it, “I do not want you to be immortalized like this,” You rarely complained about anything no matter how much it bothered you, “If it would not stain Addia’s name, I would have this painting burned.” 

Now, Qhetohr’s name is only remembered by the bloodshed and devastation they’ve caused, and even if it displeases you, they do not deny that they prefer it this way. 

Qhetohr finally arrives to the entrance to your garden, the only place they've ever felt at peace. The sound of running water from the fountain, your doves chirping, and idle chatter between those working in the garden takes them back to more innocent days, when the only people in the garden would be the two of you. 

Qhetohr steps foot inside the garden, and sticks out like a sore thumb. Their black cloak, a stark contrast against the verdant green, and immediately one of your priests approaches them. “Excuse me, young one, but you are not permitted inside Lord [Name]’s gardens,” The old man speaks like he does not sense Qhetohr’s naturally oppressive aura, “I must ask you to leave.” 

They sigh, this old man surely recognizes them, does he not? The paintings are still on the wall, and though they were not the main subject they were still a prominent figure standing beside you. Qhetohr’s eyes narrow down on him, “Who are you to order me around, mortal?” 

The old man flinches at the sight of Qhetohr’s eyes, and his lips tremble, and then he shrieks, “I Ávyssos!” The Abyssal. Qhetohr snorts, they haven’t heard that title in years. 

The other priests and priestesses look up from their work and their eyes widen at the sight of Qhetohr, who clicks their tongue and then glares at the old man, “Should’ve held your tongue,” They smirk, “No need to hold your tongue when you won’t have one, eh?” 

Before Qhetohr’s words could settle in the old man’s feeble mind, they shot out their hand and a black beam shot out and forced itself into the old man’s mouth and wrapped around his tongue. Then, it crushes the tongue till it’s nothing more but a bloody mass of flesh in the old man’s mouth. He tries to scream, but he cannot. 

Only then do they see you, you came as soon as you sensed your followers’ terror. Your beautiful [e/c] eyes widen in shock, and then harden, “Qhetohr,” Their name falls off your tongue like it’s an insult, “How did you get out of your prison?” 

The rest of your priests and priestesses try to run away now that you’ve arrived, but Qhetohr summons tendrils made from the void that hold them in place and gag their mouths.

They smile pleasantly, “Did a bit of bargaining, but that’s not what matters,” Qhetohr walks closer to you, and their smile grows wider when you do not back away, “Aren’t you happy that I’m back, [Name]?” 

When they reach out to touch you, only then do you step back, “You’re not meant to be here, Qhetohr,” You remind them, “You were in that place for a reason.” 

Qhetohr groans, “Oh come on, [Name]!” They whine like a petulant child, “You were always such a stick in the mud,” Qhetohr then grins, and snake an arm around you before you could get away, “You really don’t miss me, hm?” 

You push them away, “How could I miss somebody like you?” They know you’re lying, they know you better than the back of their hand. But it’s difficult to keep that smile on their face. 

Qhetohr grins, and then the gagged followers let out muffled screams as the tendrils tighten around them. Your eyes widen, and they chuckle, “Be careful what you say, love,” They croon, “It just might kill these poor mortals.”

“What do you want, Qhetohr,” You’re getting afraid, afraid of them, afraid of what they could do to your followers, their grin grows forced, “Is this for Ebris’ rebellion? Do you resent me for the consequences of your own actions?” 

Qhetohr snarls, and the tendrils grow even tighter around your followers and the both of you can hear the sound of their bones creaking, “I don’t! I fucking don’t, okay?” They feel like they’re a godling again, small and powerless before they ever discovered how strong they truly were, “You just- You’re not meant to be like this!” 

You don’t even have to ask what they mean. “You’re meant to- You’re meant to be kind, to- to welcome me back into your arms with a big smile and-” 

“Qhetohr,” Your voice is cold, “What do you want.” 

Qhetohr takes a deep breath, and then smiles, “I want you to come with me.” “To where?” 

“That doesn’t matter,” Qhetohr’s smile widens, “Come with me, or I’ll kill all of your followers.” 

Your eyes widen, and you hiss, “You monster,” Your nostrils flare, and your fists clench. Like an angry bull seeing red. Never have they seen you so angry before, and their stomach twists from how it’s because of them. You grit your teeth, “Fine.” 

Their smile grows even wider, and they summon more tendrils that wrap around your wrists like handcuffs. A chain materializes in the middle between the two cuffs and the other end is being held in Qhetohr’s hand, who tugs it towards them, “Come on, [Name], let’s go.” 

“Free them first,” You remind them, and they look at your followers whose faces are filled with sorrow for you, and fear for themselves. Qhetohr nods, but instead of the tendrils disappearing, they instead wrap tighter. Your eyes widen, “I said free them, not-” But it is too late, their bones crack and when the tendrils finally fade away, all that’s left are bloody remnants of what was once a human body. 

“The [Name] I knew would’ve been wise enough to make me swear to free them,” Qhetohr chuckles, “But unfortunately my dear, I cannot leave any witnesses behind.” 

“You-!” But Qhetohr gags you with more of the tendrils, and leads you out of the temple. Any followers that scream at the sight of the blood covering Qhetohr, or see you in chains and try to help gets killed. Some are spared, but cursed. 

Qhetohr glances at you, your face is splattered with blood, and your eyes are still wide in shock. They smile, and wipe away the blood from your face, “It’s all right,” They coo, “You’ll be able to move on, eventually.” 

Yandere Destruction Deity, who finally has you back where you belong: Right by their side. They keep you with them back in those islands they claimed during Uren’s rebellion, what was it called again? Ah right, the Ivory Isles. They erect a pale tower as white as the bones from the Great one that made up the island, out of the ground, and now you both have a home suitable for gods such as yourselves. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who doesn’t mind that you act so coldly, of course you would. They did kill a lot of your followers back in the temple, and there was still Ebris’ rebellion. Bumps like these didn’t just go away overnight, or they suppose over two centuries, even they were aware of that. You’ll forgive them eventually, you always did. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who delights in all the small ways you’re slowly letting them back on your good side, they’re allowed to stand closer to you, allowed to hold your hand again, allowed to wrap their arms around you. Hell, one night you even allowed them to kiss your forehead, the same way you always told them you loved, because it sprouted a warmth within your stomach that spread throughout you. They wonder, as you close your eyes, what they make you feel now.

Yandere Destruction Deity who spends the next few decades puppeteering Vetnos’ body as their conflict with Aenar, dubbed by the mortals as the War of Storms, continues on. It is only when Aenar’s blade finally slices through Vetnos’ neck does it end, but they know the gods will still be too busy to find you, because they’re all too busy starting new wars. Seriously, what in Kases’ name was wrong with the newer generation of gods? 

Yandere Destruction Deity who is able to spend the rest of their days in peace with you; tending to your new gardens, watching the stars together, talking about any topic that comes to mind, sometimes even sparring if they’re feeling lenient. It felt all so idyllic, so domestic. In their younger days they sparked an entirely new rebellion just because they were getting bored, but now all they want is to continue living with you peacefully in the tower. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who isn’t pleased when they detect that the curse they’ve placed on that young priest of yours has been triggered, who could be the fool daring to search for you? 

Yandere Destruction Deity who can’t stifle the laugh that slips past their lips when they learn that it’s the God of Victory. When they learned of your relationship with him, they decided to learn more about this upstart. They wonder what you could ever find of value in this arrogant little bastard to ever tolerate him so much. They’re excited to see what their void will do to Faius’ already decaying mind. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who decides to pour more of their energy into Faius’ bracelet, just to ruin the boy further. You notice, and ask them why they’re looking so tired, and they laugh and tell you they’ve just been spending many nights sleepless thinking about you. Their flirtations are enough to dissuade you from asking more. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who is surprised when it only takes four months for Faius to arrive at the Ivory Isles, but perhaps they really shouldn’t. If Faius was anything like them, then this level of dedication was to be expected. Really, the things gods do for true love. 

Yandere Destruction Deity who persuades you to stay in your gardens, while they prepare for Faius to arrive at their tower. It’s been so long since their blade has tasted blood, they hope for your sake and theirs that their skills haven’t rusted too much. 

Qhetohr had seen the statues of Faius, of course they did. In war it was important to make offerings to the God of Victory, but they had only done the more human-looking forms instead of his divine one, which was the one that Faius had arrived in.  

What he did share with the statues however, was the way that his armor was depicted. He wore a cuirass made of Ofriedian metal, greaves from the same material, and carried with him his sword, a familiar dove carved onto its hilt that had topaz for eyes. 

His eyes were perhaps the most striking thing about him, the whites of his eyes were eclipsed by velvety black and really made the amber color of his iris pop. They hardened when they came to rest upon Qhetohr, who smiled as they waved at him. 

“Greetings, I take it you are Faius?” Qhetohr noticed the dark bracelet around his wrist, and smirked. They could end the battle right now, but where was the fun in that? Besides, this guy was the only one who bothered to search for you, so they had to give him some respect. 

He grunts, “You’re Qhetohr, aren’t you?” 

“Indeed I am,” Qhetohr beams, and then spreads their arms, “Welcome, to the Ivory Isles, God of Victory.” They chuckle, “Apologies, I couldn’t welcome you when you got on the island, I was preoccupied.”

“Save the pleasantries,” Faius takes a step closer to them, “Where is [Name]?” 

“Rather impatient, aren’t you?” They sigh, and go down the stairs, “You’re just like your mother, Gholyja. How is she anyway? Still as bloodthirsty as ever I take it-”

Before they can even finish their sentence, the tip of Faius’ sword presses into their neck, “You didn’t answer my question, Ávyssos,” He hisses, “Where. Is. [Name]?” 

Qhetohr raises one singular brow, and then takes a step back away from the sharp blade, “I see you’ve inherited your mother’s lust for violence,” Their eyes narrow, “Or perhaps that’s simply my own powers at work.” 

Faius’ brows furrow, “This,'' He raises the hand that has the bracelet on it, “Is your doing?” They can see how much it’s affecting him. What should be a flawless face, is weighted down by the dark circles around his eyes that have a wildness to them that they are willing to bet wasn’t there before.

Qhetohr gave him a sly grin as they nodded, “Mhm, who else could possibly be giving you such delicious thoughts if not for the deity of madness themself?” Thoughts similar to the ones that were running in Uren’s head must be going through Faius’ mind as well. 

Faius grits his teeth, “I’ll have you killed for this,” He promises, “And [Name] will not mourn your death.” 

Qhetohr wants to laugh at that, nobody knows you better than they do. Certainly not this foolish boy with too big a head, so who was he to assume you’d feel such a way? Besides, they only needed to show you the effects of what Faius has done in search of a way to you and then you’d be recoiling in disgust at the mere mention of his name.

Qhetohr summons their blade, crafted from the void, it crackles with dark energy, “I can say the same about you, God of Victory,” They say his title like a mockery and delight in how it causes him to tighten his grip further on his sword’s grip. 

Oh, how they’ll enjoy the sight of his ichor on their blade.

☏ - ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇᴍᴀɪʟ: ᴍʀ. ꜱᴀɢᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴍɪɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴘᴇɴ, ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ'ᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ.

[tripleyeeet-archive]

EASY DAYS AHEAD

SUMMARY: Astarion's not used to feeling cared for. Luckily though, you're as caring as they come.

PAIRING: Astarion & Gender Neutral Reader

WORD COUNT: 1,925

WARNINGS: Astarion's POV, 18+ sexual content, oral sex (male receiving), body worship if you squint, CONSENT!

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi, consent is incredibly sexy. That's all I gotta say. Also that I'm pretty sure I was possessed by something because I wrote this in literally an hour and a half???

MASTERLIST

-

Astarion doesn’t deserve the care that goes into loving him. With nothing more to offer than a broken mind wrapped in precious, tainted silk, it’s hard to wrap his head around the tenderness. Specifically the feeling of your skin, trailing patterns down his spine —painting fresh images over the scars that line his back as you praise him for his efforts. 

Your voice sounds wrong in his ears. Every word distorting. All the syllables jumbling up in ways that make him narrow his eyes, staring through the darkness of the tent at nothing in particular. 

“You okay?” you ask, and even now, weeks after your first night spent together, he has to muster up everything he’s got not to break down in front of you. 

“I’m fine, darling.” 

His lips always pull in that liar’s grin, ripping through his face like knives. Slicing the inside of his cheeks each time his fangs bite down on the wet flesh inside. 

He has to force himself to look at you. To stare at the exhausted smile that slowly shifts to a frown, showcasing your insight. How you know he’s lying before he can even elaborate on why he’s fine or how you shouldn’t worry about him —he’s a creature of the night after all. 

Pressing fully against him, he hears you click your tongue and shake your head as if scolding him. “What do you need?” 

Each time you pose that same question he feels like dying. Despite the fact his heart no longer works like yours —despite the act of breathing being nothing more than a habit he’s carried over from his deathbed— there’s a dread that coats his chest. Like oil, thick and slick, it completely drowns his organs. Suffocating his body while his mind and soul fight over what comes next. 

As the internal argument grows, his eyes always dart back and forth. One moment they’re locked onto your face, obsessively viewing each section and the next they’re anywhere but. In the forest, on the battlefield, back home tucked tightly inside the palm of his master’s hand —each night he travels everywhere, lingering in certain places while speeding through others, praying to all the Gods that never listened that he’ll make his way back to you. That just this once, instead of drifting off to sea, they’ll grant him the anchor he so desperately craves. The one that’s tethered to you and the solid ground beneath. 

“You still there, handsome?”

He is —sort of— depending on the moment, but instead of saying that he merely hums. Offering the bare minimum to the only person he’s ever met deserving of more. 

“Tired?”

“Incredibly.” 

You push your chest against his back and grip his shoulder, allowing your fingers to tighten around as you maneuver your lips to his cheek. “You should rest then,” you tell him afterward, but like always the words get pushed together. Morphing into something else entirely, causing him to narrow his eyes. 

“You’re one to talk, aren’t you?” he teases, watching you roll your eyes —feeling your nails tentatively dig into his flesh as a warning. 

“Shush. Don’t make me shove a sleeping potion down your throat.”

In response, he lets out a humorous huff. Then, his hands move to snake around your waist, pulling you on top of him. “Go ahead. I’m sure Gale would thoroughly enjoy such misuse of his wares.”

“My wares,” you correct, pressing an annoyed kiss to his chest, making sure to catch his skin between your teeth in the process as a warning. “I bought them from him fair and square.”  

Immediately, he grabs your chin and raises his brow. “Why the hells would you need a potion of sleep anyway? You already sleep like a corpse.”

You merely look away with a smile. All while rolling your eyes in that way that makes him feel like he’s young again. Freshly born into a world that hadn’t yet chewed and spat him out. One where the veins beneath his skin are full of warm blood, pumping through his system, fuelling the desire he knows he should have now that you’re lying against him, flesh against flesh. Beating heart against— 

Your lips press against his sternum and he swears they’re the most tender things he’s ever felt. Next to the way your fingers always seem to lace in his when you’re sitting by the campfire, they’re softer than any touch he’s ever experienced. Hungry yet restrained for his benefit, knowing it’s hard to feel like this. To experience the kindness of a pair of lips, worshipping a slab of skin so undeserving of such care. 

Each time your mouth makes contact, your eyes are always on him, asking for permission. Begging for consent. He’s never told you this but it’s the most selfless thing he’s ever experienced. Despite it’s obvious subtly, that look you give each time your mouth can’t help itself or your hands grow a bit too greedy, means more to him than life itself. More than power or revenge. More than freedom. Because that look requires worth. Value. An offering of submission he’s long since memorized. 

Each time it’s given to him, he has to compose himself. Otherwise, he might just shatter entirely —fall to the floor in a hundred tiny pieces not even you may be willing to put in the effort to fix.

Swallowing hard, he has to stare intently at your face, taking in the way you look up at him through your lashes. How you arch your brow just slightly upward, asking for forgiveness. Atoning for your sins in the form of restraint until he eventually nods, hearing your voice. 

You always ask out loud to make sure. An act that only further fuels his desire to feel you wrapped around him. To experience the warmth of your flesh tenderly pressing against the iciness of his. 

“Go ahead, darling,” he tells you, and for once, he means it. Truly. 

Instead of pretending like he wants this for the sake of a game, he accepts you in full. Watching you genuinely grin as you lean up to capture his lips, savouring the taste of his approval. Consuming the sound that absentmindedly passes through his lips as your hand lingers down, drifting past his chest and stomach until you’re pulling away to breathe. 

He can feel his mouth swell with need. The rest of his body following suit as you begin to descend, touching and kissing and biting —putting him through every sensation he’s gifted so many others. 

Leaning up to watch you work, he can see the excitement in your face each time he accidentally twitches beneath you. How the edges of your eyes crinkle with anticipation the moment you find yourself tucked between his legs, looming over him with heavy hands and breaths. 

“You’re beautiful,” you tell him then, and for once it means something. 

“You’re beautiful,” he repeats back, and for once it isn’t a lie. In fact, it’s the most honest he’s ever been, and secretly that scares him. So much so that he has to look down to see if you’re still there. 

Hoping that the sudden sincerity in his voice hasn’t scared you away, he can’t help but focus on the curve of your spine. How it starts low; your chest slightly leaning against one of his inner thighs.

Somehow despite the precarious position, you look perfect. Like a piece of art so carefully made, he can’t help but reach down and touch, revelling in the way you shudder beneath him. Sighing at the sudden desperation that erupts when you pull at the fabric against his waist. 

“Greedy, are we?” he jokes. 

Shooting him an embarrassed look, your hands continue to work his underwear down his legs —ignoring the way they catch at his knees and ankles. “I just really want to make you feel good.” 

The way you speak sends him over the precipice of ruin. Even before you discard the cloth and wrap your hand around the head of his cock, he’s already done for. Lost to the feeling of your digits. Fully enraptured by the heat of your breath as you lean forward and take him between your lips, coating him in spit. He has to close his eyes despite wanting nothing more than to look at you. Feeling the way your cheeks hollow out against him, he can already imagine the expressions of your efforts. All the time and care put in as you stroke him gently, maintaining the slowest pace he’s sure he’s ever experienced. 

It drives him mad with need. Bucking upwards each time your tongue drags across the tip, he instantly feels you push back. With a firm hand, you grip his hip and dig the pads into his flesh as yet another warning, telling him to behave. To just sit back and savour the pleasures he’s deserved rather than rushing through. 

He isn’t used to enjoying this. More often than not feeling like nothing more than a body designated for others enjoyment, he isn’t entirely sure how to properly relish your efforts. Or at least, in a way that doesn’t feel forced. Because he could do what you’re supposed to in this situation: touch you, moan for you, utter sweet nothings in your ear to further spur you on. He could do one of them or all of them, perhaps a mixture of two and still, it wouldn’t be enough to fully showcase the weight that fills his chest each time your mouth bobs up and down. How, as you begin to push him further and further into your mouth until he’s grazing the back of your throat, everything you do feels like the greatest gift he’s ever received. How maddening it is to feel loved like this even when he’s at his most unloveable.

Because that’s what you do to him. With the simplest of touches, you make him feel like him again. Like his mind hasn’t been shattered by the repeated slams of a sinner’s hand. As if his skin, etched by the knife of that same bastard, isn’t scarred. That instead it’s merely just skin. A grouping of muscle and tissue wrapping around his bones —a simple casing of flesh meant to be licked and sucked and pumped for all it’s worth until he’s gasping for air and uncontrollably shaking. 

And sometimes he feels like he’s earned it. During the easy days when he’s able to forget about his past and instead focus on the beauty that’s pressed against his leg, continuing to suck the come from his orgasm, it’s as if he’s on top of the world. Standing on a pillar of his past self’s hopes and dreams, he can easily look down at you with pride. Reaching down to touch your temple, he can feel the haze of your affections in full. The tremors of your possessive lips slowly slipping off, granting him a slick-coated smile that makes him almost faint. 

During those days he can smile back and pull you up into his chest, ignoring the ache between his thighs in your absence. Opting to hold you close. 

“Was that okay?” he hears you ask, and despite the question seeming almost juvenile, all he does is kiss your face. Starting at your forehead before moving to your nose and cheeks —eventually ending on your lips, he answers the question the only way he can. By showing you that, thanks to the care you foolishly offer, the days really are getting easier.

-

@poohxlove @gaiasmight @sassy-stupid @novarex @v-gremlin @sapphiccloud @lipstickghoulie @kuroitsukyo @jjfchk @idiotsatan @bluestuesday @bloopthebat @art-by-greenie @heneralmoon @sukunababe @dreamingaboutyousworld @ranfithegood @haniscrying @liadamerondjarin @the-lake-is-calling @marina-and-the-memes @rookieoftheyear @zraloci-cpr @kaetmo @snickerdoodle-daydream @wowowwild @d1anna @raswiet @conniesbbymama @venus-wrts @demonicthorns @kihten @sanscas @spammypasta @leighsartworks216 @rose-gold-blue @p1ssmagg0t @hellish-writes @ghostinvenus @otayz @sexysquatch @sleepyeclair @colorful-anxieties @alina-exe @lillifer @girlwiththepapatattoo @acelin-ginsberg @pinkuranium @catrad0rable @scarletrosesposts @qwnamidala @itsrosebabe @bunnyperi @queenofcarrotflowers-s @tatumadams20 @spkyxszn @chlort @f3v3rs @awkwardwookie @joy-the-reader @warm-milk-with-honey-blog @vertigocrime @iyis @wildpiper @pebblethestone @tillywasneverhere @bex-03 @revemiya @staticspouse @itzagothamcitysiren

(tags continued in comments)

[rookiesbookies]

Hi i love the empress and male!concubines idea with the COD boys, I def think that it'll be interesting to see more hcs for this idea/au?

Alright my little anon. Truthfully I should have given more details in the og post (it also started as a rant about how I couldn’t handle a poly relationship because of my anxiety (I also saw a post about a girl who had 4 partners and didn’t get any attention and it made me sad so that's also way).) I have been stewing on this idea though so here’s some hc. Might do more if people are still interested in it or want more, I do love talking about my AUs (like this one and the Greek god one, so let me know if you want me to go more bc stuff like this rattles around my brain)

Also apparently there is a term for a male concubine and they’re called concubinatus or a concubinus. Honestly I took Latin and the fact I didn’t expect this lowkey brings me pain.

General HC?

The first empress in a long time. And the first empress to like her concubinuses (hope that's right) more than the idea of marrying for an emperor. So the council decided to bring you only the best warriors to keep. They of course still must serve occasionally but they have been elevated in status to there is lower risk anything will happen. Mostly kept as tacticians or kept to train the new boys joining the country’s military.

Konig and Krueger were taken as trophies of war for the Empress. They were two of the largest, smartest, and strongest men from the battlefield.

When the two were adjusting, it was difficult. The empress was gracious with them, mentioning how she wouldn’t dare make them do anything, apologizing for the war and the loss. Truthfully trying to get them comfortable, and the two were honestly shocked but I’ll get into that more in their sections.

Keegan was sent as a gift by a neighboring nation looking for peace and protection. He had a good time adjusting, sometimes making comments about how this treatment is too good for nasty military dogs like all of them but I’ll touch on that more later.

Price

Price was probably the first concubinus. He had been a strong warrior and was deemed by the council to be a good fit for what they were hoping for. He also, however, did not intend to retire from his position so they had to find an alternate reason to stop him from getting in trouble.

For him it was awkward. His empress was a bit younger than him, however he did crave to be a father. While the empress didn’t intend to fall pregnant yet, he would be on his best behavior when the opportunity came.

The chance to be the father of the next royal was something he couldn’t miss.

Soap

Both him and Gaz were best in their class, breaking records, so it only made sense it seems to send them to the empress once they got their prime years out of them.

He was probably the last concubinus to come in before the gift and the trophies of war. He has the more vicious puppy eyes. He waits for you like a dog every time you leave and enter. Always talks about how much more comfortable your bed is and how nice it is to lay with you. Definitely sweet talks you even though he’s already a concubinus.

Will literally do anything you say and it’s partially because he thinks he will get sent back to the military full time if he doesn’t.

Ghost

Definitely does checks on all the palace guards to make sure they’re up to spec. If even one slacks he uses his power to make them run.

This is all because of how gracious the empress has been with him. When he had a fit of ptsd (i'm thinking anxiety attack or something) she invited him into her room and away from the others so he didn’t feel embarrassed and comforted him as best she could before making him some tea. With an empire that stretches across Europe he was impressed she had the time to stop and care about a random concubinus.

Definitely was surprised he told you as much as he did and how you listened and comforted him. Telling him you’d never make him do anything he wasn’t comfortable with was something he appreciated.

Gaz

See the first paragraph of Soap’s bc Im not copying it again.

Since I feel like Gaz is the older of the two (he seems to have a maturity I dont see as much in Soap idk?) He was sent to her first of the two for his ‘semi-retirement’. Now they just need them to occasionally train incoming recruits.

He definitely enjoyed adjusting to the cushy life of the castle. He liked being able to keep his weapons since he did double as a personal guard for the empress. But he likes that he and the other concubinus get a hot tub more, definitely likes all the fancy clothes.

His job is the have sex with his sexy empress, what’s not to love?

Konig

Truthfully, when he was being cocky toward the other concubinus and you pulled him away into a separate room to tell him you knew he was compensating for his anxiety, he was more than shocked. He was stunned into silence.

So when you reached your hands under his hood and rubbed his cheeks, telling him it was ok and he didn’t need to act out, he melted. He had never truly been shown such softness, so to be shown it by the empress of the enemy? He was so conflicted. With a pat on his chest you told him he could take on his position fully when he was more comfortable and that you were concerned for him and there if he needed to talk. He was still quiet.

Krueger

Was not interested. No matter how many compliments you gave him or gifts you sent, he wouldn’t budge. He was grumpy and hostile. So much so he made the other concubinus nervous especially for you.

It wasn’t until you pulled him into your room that night that he relaxed quite a bit under your soft hands and apologies. Massaging his tired muscles, and lulling him into a sense of security. Now he understood how Konig folded so easily.

He offered to return the favor but you told him not until he was more comfortable and made him promise to play nice. He agreed but only to be a bit nicer.

Keegan

He honestly believes this treatment is too good for all of them. They were dogs of war, animals trained to kill, and now they’re dressed in fancy clothes? With an empress who dotes on them when they should be doting on her? Truthfully he baffles him. He isn’t ungrateful, he just didn’t expect to become a concubinus when sent here. He expected a joint military operation or to be a representative. He hit it off quickly with the group from the empire’s military.

The two from the war keep to themselves and the shorter one threatened to bite him.

Often feels the most out of place because he is the only one from his area, but he doesn’t complain. He gets nice gifts and is invited into your room pretty often, so he appreciates every moment. He wonders if it would be proper or allowed for him to get you gifts?

I was surprising more eager to write this ask than I thought. Let me know if yall want me to do formal parts to this? Maybe an actual fic for this au?

Masterlist is pinned on profile as always, don’t forget to leave me a comment or a request in my inbox to let me know what yall want to see!

[thetwilightroadtonightfall]

It’s the end of May, which means I’m sad and insane about the khux finale again

lol just kidding, I’m ALWAYS sad about the khux finale!

anyway, here’s a ramble analysis-esque thing about how the most tragic trio of all time has hurt me

The Ephemer and Skuld fight is so much more excruciating when you remember that for literally the entire game, all they wanted was for Player to be safe, even if it meant breaking rules and hiding things from them.

Eph and Skuld saved Player from the keyblade war even though they weren’t a Dandelion, and realistically should’ve been left behind to meet their fate like all the other non-Dandelions. Instead, they chose to take Player to the new world and spare them from the trauma of the war, carrying the burden of those memories in their stead.

You have to remember that Eph and Skuld were also on the battlefield during the war, or at least during the tail end of it. They never talk about it on screen, but even if they were only there for a short time, seeing all that destruction, and all those wielders dying on the battlefield when they were basically given a free pass to escape it all, had to have been insanely horrific for both of them.

And then seeing Player, their friend, on the brink of dying, is enough to shake the two of them to their core, and go against their initial beliefs. Eph believed that it would be better for everyone to remember the past, for the future’s sake. And Skuld believed in doing what was right, even if it meant unveiling the ugly truths no one wanted to hear.

The cutscene where they’re talking to Chirithy about hiding the truth is so poignant to me because while Skuld and Eph do feel bad about withholding stuff from Player, after seeing the literal end of the world and them on the brink of death, they’ve agreed that it’s the lesser evil, that it’s worth doing. They keep Player close enough to watch over them. They keep them busy with new jobs, and happy with new friends, blissfully unaware of what they had to endure. Because as selfish as it is, lying to Player is miles better than seeing them in pain. Than seeing them die.

BUT here’s the thing: Eph and Skuld never considered that Player would feel the exact same way about them. That Player would be willing to lie to their faces and “go against what they believe”, turning into the very enemy they were trained to defeat, for their sake. It’s an ironic twist, and the smartest thing Player has ever done, preying on Eph and Skuld’s worst fear in order to ensure they truly fight for themselves and make it out safely, instead of pulling the self sacrifice play they were intending. Player literally used an uno reverse card on them and it worked.

The three of them lied and changed to protect each other, and neither party ever found out the truth in the end. They trusted one another with their lives, and trusted themselves to do what was right on each other’s behalf. And damn, did they do it. khux ends with these three friends beating the shit out of each other, their lives crumbling underneath the weight of how much they care about each other, and as far as we know, they never see each other again. At least not for another several centuries, give or take.

god. Just. god. What the hell did Nomura inject into these three and why am I still crying about it 3 years later???

[wing-ed-thing]

Three-Man Squad Relationship Headcanons with Deidara and Sasori

Tags: No Reader Pronouns, Canon-Typical Violence, Poisoning Mentions

𓆃 It’s less like being stuck in the middle of an argument and more like being stuck in the middle of a pseudo-intellectual hell where one side clearly cares a lot more than the other

𓆃 Sure, like with all members of the Akatsuki, you might have to worry about an assassination attempt, but honestly, one of your partners killing you is the least of your worries.

𓆃 What you should worry about is the never-ending pissing match between Sasori and Deidara. Not to mention that they’re both on exact opposite sides of the spectrum when it comes to interacting with you

𓆃 Deidara is the most vocal about his art and jutsu. He always wants to show you something, usually in the most annoying way possible. Whether it’s waking you up so he can put a literal bomb in your hand or just blowing micro-explosions up in your face, he can and will get your attention

𓆃 You’ll be half asleep, and Deidara will put a clay creation in your hand for you to feel the craftsmanship, and he can and will blow it up when you’re still holding it

𓆃 He actually prefers it that way

𓆃 You definitely have some sort of poisoning from the detonation

𓆃 Sasori is always tinkering with something and barely paying attention to anything you say, which would be tolerable if it wasn’t for the fact that he’s also secretly a show-off

𓆃 Sasori constantly makes snide and passive-aggressive comments, all while holding up his craftsmanship as superior. He won’t outwardly demand that you look at his work, but he will patronize you and step on your mission role to handle things himself

𓆃 It’s easier not to take sides when the bickering happens. Neither can really let it go, despite Sasori always acting like he’s above it. 

𓆃 Deidara never stops talking about art once he’s in the zone, and Sasori’s snide remarks spur him on further. Both of them are too prideful to conceed

𓆃 It’s fun playing referee for their sparring matches. Sometimes, when the conversation gets heated, the two of them fight. They fight until Deidara gets knocked out, Sasori gets bored, or they recklessly get too low on chakra

𓆃 If you’re ever in a pinch and need an assist, Deidara likes to make a big show of saving you. 

𓆃 “That’ll show you to admire my art!” “My superior artwork comes to the rescue yet again!”

𓆃 Sasori is the type to grab you by the back of your collar and drag you out of the way at close range. He thinks it’s funny to attach chakra strings to you before swooping in with his battle puppets

𓆃 In fact, he thinks it’s funny and convenient to do that even when you’re not on the battlefield. If Sasori wants your attention and you don’t hear him, he will physically turn you around from whatever you’re doing

𓆃 You’ve started to feel the tiny attachment of chakra strings in your sleep. You’ve started to brush them away like spiderwebs

𓆃 Deidara likes to walk around with his shirt off. On days he’s feeling generous, he’ll let you do his hair. It’s kinda become a bonding thing between the two of you. Sometimes he’ll yammer on about something, and you pass the time by braiding his hair. 

𓆃 You remembered being able to do Hiruko’s hair once. You don’t remember why Sasori allowed it.

𓆃 “Yeah, whatever, but if you get poisoned I’m not giving you an antidote...” 

𓆃 You’re as close as an Akatsuki three-man squad will get. There’s a certain amount of healthy distrust, but at the end of the day, Sasori and Deidara are sentimental and enjoy the company... for now...

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

[gabessquishytum]

Fun variation on the warprize hob au: Dream and Hob knew each other as teenagers, when Dream was just the prince and Hob was apprenticed to his father in a mercenary band, one contracted to King Time for a few months. They’re basically childhood sweethearts, utterly infatuated with each other from minute one and always together.

Prince Dream constantly makes promises that when he’s king, Hob will be by his side always, would want for nothing, be given every kind of luxury and pleasure, would never have to lift a finger and instead just sit and look pretty. Hob wants all of that, wants it desperately, but knows how unlikely it is to come true, that his time with Dream is temporary.

And he’s proven right, as the mercenaries’ contract ends, so abruptly that Hob has no time to say goodbye or arrange further communications, and the new contract is in a kingdom so far away that communication would have been nearly impossible to maintain anyway. The years pass, Hob grows into a man and a good mercenary soldier in his own right, but still remembers his beloved Dream and his lovely visions of their future. But he’s lost track of which kingdom was Dream’s, and Hob’s kept too busy with one war or another to properly search (kings here take on regnal names when they’re crowned, so he can’t just ask around for King Dream, he’d be known by some other name).

He’s fighting in this latest war, when he’s suddenly grabbed by the other side and taken kicking and biting to the enemy palace and quarters of King Morpheus. Hob is forced to his knees before the king, finally looks up, and is struck utterly still to see Dream, the love of his youth. He hardly notices the guards being dismissed, too busy drinking in how Dream has changed, how mature and regal he’s become. When they’re alone Dream approaches, strokes his cheek, and whispers in his ear “my dearest Hob, it’s high time I kept my promise.”

(The guards feel a little sympathy for the warprize they were told to grab, they don’t blame him for fighting so hard to escape being brought before the Nightmare King. Poor thing was clearly frozen in terror when he was finally face to face with him, and they can’t imagine the tortures he went through as they hear his crying and wailing over the next couple days. When the two finally emerge, everyone’s a little impressed despite themselves at how quickly and thoroughly King Morpheus has broken his new prize; the man is utterly pliant and clinging to the king, seeming completely content to sit on his lap, or on a pillow at his feet, and preen under King Morpheus’ hand, which is almost always touching him)

-🪽anon

Oooh yes this is perfect romance novel material!!!! I'm imagining Dream casually spotting Hob on the battlefield after all these years and he's just like. That One. I want That One. His servants are slightly confused because the Nightmare king doesn't usually take people on as prizes. They feel pretty bad when Hob comes in kicking and screaming.

Nobody sees the way he literally jumps into Dream’s arms like an excited puppy. Dream squeezes him tight and they just roll around the floor like idiots for a while. Hob is like "I can't believe it's actually you!!! Holy shit!!!!" And Dream is laughing and spouting promises about how he's going to pamper Hob and make sure he never has to do horrible mercenary work again.

I'm imagining that Hob would have a wonderful time all snuggled up in Dream’s lap, occasionally giving him military advice (tactician + concubine is such a wonderful combination). It becomes clear very quickly that Hob may be a warprize but he certainly isn't being tortured or abused. He's been very well taken care of, fed the finest food and dressed in luxury clothes, and he's extremely well fucked. He's always sleepy sometimes achy, and he's constantly trying to catch Dream’s attention. Now he's all clean and well fed he looks absolutely beautiful so it's not like Dream can look away from him anyway.

Imagine all the fun they have running around the palace together and having embarrassingly loud sex in all the places they used to hang out when they were younger <33

[yanderelinkeduniverse]

Reader who makes plushies... That have literal bombs inside of them that they can throw on the battlefield

Imagine if one of Links accidentally sets it off

Jk jk, it’s just funny to see this ask when you have Klee from hit game Genshin Impact on pc, PlayStation, and mobile devices as your pfp.

Personally I actually really love the concept of characters with bombs that are hidden inside plush dolls, they’re always so fun and cute! Now as for a (y/n) with those dolls…

She is not gonna be using them as freely when the time comes.

At the start I think the Chain would actually be really chill with her primarily using bombs in combat, I mean as long as she can control where they go. In fact, they’d prefer her using bombs than using nothing at all since - and I mean this as politely as possible - if would not be good if they had member of the group basically be deadweight.

*side eyes canon (y/n) who is not a combatant in any capacity*

And in all fairness, I’m pretty sure everyone who’s played a Zelda game has accidentally blown themselves up with their own bombs at least one time. Realistically would that kind of injury be severe and heavily impact her relationship with the Chain? Of course, but since when have I stuck to realism?

(y/n) being a combatant from the get go would certainly impact the Chain’s view of her fighting later on when they start becoming obsessive, but I think they’d still go through a phase where they think (y/n) shouldn’t be using them at all when their concern for her safety reaches its peak.

I mean, if these guys can blow themselves up with their own bombs when those bombs are just a side item then what about when they’re someone’s main weapon? I heavily doubt this variant of the reader would be without some bandages from accidentally blowing herself up on occasion.

Those who become a little too paranoid for her safety, such as Four, Twilight, and probably Wild just from his own personal experiences accidentally setting off a remote bomb too close to himself or using a bomb arrow in the Eldin region, would argue that she’s safer without them than with them.

And while most of the others would be in agreement, the problem is…she’s had these bombs and this method of fighting since before she ever came to Hyrule. Who are they to say what she can and cannot do to defend herself with?

It’s a struggle between the overwhelming desire to keep her safe and the need to respect her as their superior, after all they are barely worthy to hold a candle to her.

So, a compromise is made.

They politely ask (y/n) if she can limit her bomb usage, perhaps using a bit of well meaning manipulation to say that their ears are more sensitive than hers and as such the sound of the bombs going off hurts their ears.

They don’t want to limit their darling, don’t want her to feel caged and like her wings are being clipped, but they also want her to be safe above all else.

And if there were ever a time when (y/n)’s style of combat proved to be more detrimental to her well-being than not then they wouldn’t hesitate to take those bombs away, even if she protests.

On a slightly happier note, the plushies themselves are something the Chain would coo over a lot!

Some might even try to give her inspiration for new ones to make, even if they aren’t bombs(they’d be happier if they weren’t bombs tbh). I’m sure Hyrule has a bunch of dolls that look like himself saved up and Wild’s got pictures of Riju’s sand seals, those would be adorable!

But yeah, a reader who utilizes bombs in combat would challenge the Chain’s dual desires to both respect (y/n) as their ultimate authority(not that she knows) and keep her safe. But as long as she properly uses them, then she’ll be fine.

For now.

[mychlapci]

Rodimus giving birth painfully at the worst time possible and with no help whatsoever.

Its in the middle of battle and he’s in too much pain to move, his tank is painfully stiff and swollen and he’s in so much pain but his fluids haven’t even broken yet and there is so much pressure all he can do is vent heavy and huddle under the shelter hoping the wrong bot doesn’t find him.

Best part about it?

He wasn’t even in this battle.

He was on a civi huddle trying to get to safety because he left after finding out he was sparked.

Sires?

Deadlock and Ratchet who don’t even know.

He’s literally got the worst luck because bombs are falling and soldiers are offlining and bullets are flying in the space he’s in and crawling only did so much his tanks are too heavy on his frame and half his spoilers been blown off while the other half is leaking energon hanging by a thread.

This mech is in serious trouble because he feels his sparklings moving and its making everything worse and the siren for clearing the battlefield sounds and he knows he’s really fragged because that means they send out a large bomb and what do they do?

Drop the largest bomb that caves in his shelter and guess who just so happened to fall in protecting each other?

Deadlock and Ratchet who have no idea he’s behind them as they check each other over and talk quietly so relieved they survived as they mention it’ll take at least two days to remove the rubble so they can escape.

And guess whose frame wracks with pain as their sparkling readjusts and kicks them too hard and makes him fail at stifling an agonized scream thats muffled from him biting into his arm?

Deadlock and Ratchet have the most distressed, out of frame mind zapping shock of their life cycles seeing Rodimus like that.

Your thoughts/the rest?

Ooh poor Rodimus (Hot Rod?)... but he was lucky that a bickering Deadlock and Ratchet ended up in the rubble with him. For a moment they’re too busy fighting and pointing out whose fault it was that they ended up here and how long it’s gonna take them to get out thar they don’t notice that there’s someone still alive in the mess. Hot Rod squealing out as his forge clenches alerts them to his presence very quickly…

When they realize it’s Hot Rod, their shared… friend, they rush to him and no matter how hard he tries to hide his pregnant belly from them, his water finally breaking tips them off. I don’t think they realize they’re the sires at first, but when Ratchet scolds him for not coming to him when he got sparked and Hot Rod tells him he didn’t want to hang a sparkling on his shoulders it clicks.

Deadlock is more stunted. Ratchet knows what to do, but Deadlock does not. I think he only jumps to action once Ratchet orders him to help him get Hot Rod out of the rubble and onto a more comfortable surface. Hot Rod was very lucky to have been found by them. Ratchet can patch him up and help coach him through the birth. He can already see that Roddy’s been straining himself, forcing himself to push when he does not need to. Thankfully his water finally broke and it’s gonna be significantly easier from now… Hot Rod clings to Deadlock as Ratchet helps him coax out the sparkling, scolding him for not telling them, for keeping this to himself, for trying to move through an active war-zone when he knew he’s that far along. Because of all the stress and the fighting still going on outside, Hot Rod has a very hard time giving birth, but at least he can scream into Deadlock’s chest this time around <3

if it’s going to take at least a couple days to clear out the rubble they know they’re in hot water. Hot Rod’s sparkling comes out alive but barely holding on and they don’t have enough fuel for the four of them… Everyone has to pitch in to keep the little one fed, which slows down the progress. Hot Rod’s injuries and the fact that he’s only recently birthed a sparkling mean they have to drag him out and help him walk across the empty battlefield… Hopefully, they can reconnect with an autobot squadron soon, and as for Deadlock… he’s going to stay with his sparkling for as long as he can, for now.

[matan4il]

Buddie 602 meta

I mentioned with this gif that Buck and Eddie really were more than battlefield boyfriends in this ep, they were work husbands. Yes, they did their thing where they turned around in sync shortly after they arrived at the “lust tunnel” call, but even after they were back at the station, they observed a sleeping Hen together, somewhere between worried about her and poking fun at her. See, the show could have had Chim there for this bit as well. It did have him there when the guys later spill popcorn over Hen. But no, we get a tiny reminder that the only ones who are truly attached at the hip, who naturally turn to each other, who choose to be that joined together every chance they get, on and off the field, are Buck and Eddie. ~ ~

Remember back in ep 102, Buck talked about how, unlike with the Navy SEALS, what he loved about being a firefighter is that he got to be the tough guy, but also to help people (without becoming a machine)? I was hit by how much this parallels Eddie, who also had emotional issues due to his service in the army, but on calls like the “love tunnel” one, he still gets to be the tough guy, binding the hands of an attempted murderer, while serving as a peace officer. I just love how much the show stresses that Buddie will always get each other better than anyone else will, because they’re just so similar when it comes to the most important things in life in terms of who they are and what they need. They’re essentially made for each other. ~ ~

Buck resorting to a self help book reminded me of him in 406, reading about the different love languages. I thought it was an interesting link (even visually) to remind us that while his journey is leading him to currently choose being single, it is ultimately connected to his desire for romantic love as well. Not because every self-discovery search has to, but we’re reminded that for him personally, that’s something that he deeply craves. His journey will be complete when in addition to himself, he’ll find and get to enjoy this love that he’s been dreaming of for so long. ~ ~

Allow me to go wild (and geeky) for a second. The guy that they treat (and fail to save) at the happiness convention? His name is Lev. I might have mentioned in the past that I’m a name geek (I even once contemplated making a resource post for fans and creators in the 911 fandom about the meaning and origin of characters’ names on the show), so right away, my ears pricked up. I know that it’s revealed the patient’s name is ‘Nathan Levinson.’ But it’s a late reveal, towards the very end of the ep. For most of that call, they refer to him as ‘Lev,’ which is actually a first name as well. It has two possible meanings, depending on its origin. One is that it comes from Russian and means lion. Which might be a play on the name of the actor portraying Lev. He’s called Arye, and his name in Hebrew means lion. If this is what the show was going for, it would be pretty cool, and it would def indicate that they pay attention to an actor’s real life background. But then consider the other option. ‘Lev’ is also a Hebrew name, which means ‘heart.’ Arye Gross, the character’s actor, is Jewish himself, and ‘Levinson’ is a Jewish last name, which seems to suggest that the Hebrew interpretation for Lev’s name is the right one. This would mean that the patient who Buck related so deeply to and who Eddie noticed was really close for a very long time with his friends -  they’re all literally call him ‘heart.’ To top that all off, playing on the meaning of the word heart in a romantic context is brought up in this very ep, between Hen and Karen. So when we add all that to the fact that, as I’ve mentioned in previous weekly meta posts, we have had an ongoing heart theme with Buck and Eddie for a while now, you hopefully get why I feel there’s significance to this name choice. ~ ~

Lev obviously is meant to be another Red (from ep 316) for Buck. Unlike Red, Lev’s not a firefighter, he’s “just” a patient they lost, but because of where Buck is at this moment in his life, the encounter’s enough to shake him up. Just like Red basically came along and showed Buck that work isn’t everything, and that it doesn’t matter how much you give it your all, you still might end up lonely, Lev showed him that in every walk of “normative” life (career, wife, kids, possessions) you might do the same and still end up sad. Obviously, this is going to leave Buck feeling like he needs to try out new things, find a new direction that might lead him to that being at ease and happy that he’s been looking for (especially as the people he usually looks up to for answers can’t provide them right now: Bobby’s away dealing with his own family crisis, while Hen is a little lost herself). But I find it interesting, ‘coz this ep actually gave us an indication of what Lev might have ended up with. He doesn’t figure out the meaning to life and happiness when he’s injured, or during the following talk. He appears to find it after he chooses to make a sacrifice in order to save another person’s life and learns that was successful. I just find it very curious that at the end of the day, it’s implied the answer he found is what Buck already has, saving others. So I suspect (sorry to be drifting a bit into speculation territory) that this is the conclusion that Buck will eventually get to as well, that he’s had what he needs to be happy all along. And if you remember my meta for 601, that seemed to be the implied conclusion there as well, with the moving of the armchair. That Buck will eventually realize what makes him happiest, is what he already has, he just needs to redefine things a little. So all of this together feels like it’s further strengthening the idea that eventually, as part of his quest for self-realization and happiness, Buck is also going to figure out he already has the love he’s been searching for... ~ ~

Thank you so much for reading and for any and all support, like unbelievably kind tags in reblogs! Thank you also for the amazing gifs to the incredible @whosoldherout​​, who just knocks it outta the park. You can also find more of my Buddie fics, gifs and meta, if you’re interested. Thank you again! xoxox

[duckiemimi]

Hi!!! i hope i'm not bothering you with this but i really like your thoughts and reasoning about jjk especially the last chapter, i recently saw this post and i was wondering what you thought about it.

https://twitter.com/gurokenn/status/1705203046597132589?s=19

oh, this was such an interesting read!

now if we strictly go by the nature of his character (especially when he was younger), i would somewhat agree. op made great points about the perception of power between two of the most powerful characters in jjk. they’re similar in so many ways!

though i’d argue that gojo did not become powerful because he consciously developed a complete sense of self; he was born with power (both politically and physically), and so that complete sense of self came naturally, along with the isolation and alienation. he didn’t have to work to shift the balance of the world. we don’t know much about sukuna when he was a sorcerer, but perhaps he had to consciously work towards a sense of self, and that’s why he was able to explain it to jogo so succinctly in that particular scene. this chapter is the first time gojo ever talked about the distance between everyone and him and though he said it so casually, there’s an underlying sense of frustration or regret behind those words.

i also don’t necessarily agree that gojo only worried about himself—i’ve made so many posts about this (this is one of them), but the way he expresses care is different from the people around him because of that distance of power between everyone and him. he does care. his love for people (geto, his students, his friends) is his biggest weakness (and strength!) and it’s been shown time and time again. the chains that bind him to the system are, as well (i made a post about how even without it, it must be difficult for him to see himself out of the box they’ve built around him), but he could’ve grown past them, especially with the system virtually being nonexistent now.

it’s why i found this panel frustrating because is that really what you wanted to do?

it felt like character regression, in a way, because i assumed that in the scene after the timeskip (where everyone pat his back), he’d finally realized that he was never really alone. but these recent lines imply that he still felt alone and out of everyone, he chose sukuna (sukuna! possessing his protégé’s body!) to connect with. did you learn nothing from the timeskip we were so conveniently given? are you that desperate for connection that you forgot all the other connections you’ve forged throughout your life, and especially the ones you rekindled after being unsealed?

“sorcerers are supposed to die without regret.” i think this line isn’t supposed to be read quite literally because there’s so much subtext behind it. they die like this not to push themselves to the limit, not to test their powers. they die like this because their life spans are short. this career path isn’t for people who have attachments. it’s for disposable machine parts because once you die on that battlefield, someone will replace you without even time to spare for your own funeral. it’s an allegory for our real world. (i made a post semi-explaining my thoughts about this here and here.)

to make gojo die with only the realization that he’s not the strongest, albeit poetic, should not be his conclusion. being the strongest (singular) should not even be important anymore. why would you foster allies if that was the case? why were you so hungry for change before?

anyway, i think op made a lot of interesting points that made me think and i have to agree with sukuna’s characterization! but the difference between gojo and sukuna’s characters is that sukuna is a human who became a “god” while gojo was born a “god” who wanted to become human.

[holding-monsters-hands]

went to a concert and it made me think abt mercs going to one <3 like soldier would be the most aggressive head banger and definitely be in the middle of a mosh pit being silly and assuming that’s normal concert behavior, pyro would be making friends w people across the stadium via flashlight/lighter with engie helping them and speaking of engie he probably brings his own ear plugs unless he goes to a country concert btw just assuming this is like a rock concert idk how loud other concerts are😭 hhhheaby going for medic and also having earplugs but realizing he loves how the music literally shakes his being and makes him feel like a different person because of that sensation

- texas anon has a lot of thoughts

HSISJSH just.. the way all of this is so accurate.. 😭 also we are gonna go with a rock concert because this tickles my brain

The mercs going to a concert

Scout is trying so hard to act like he’s enjoying this experience but this boy is scared shitless, like he sees soldier knocking people out in the pit and he wants NO part of it.

Soldier is for sure in the mosh pit, literally no one is able to knock him down or even touch him because he’s taking people out with ease- it’s to the point the pit just keeps getting smaller by the hour- but he’s still having fun and making friends! he’s not there to purely fight, it just kinda happens because that’s just how mosh pits go.

Spy is in some really nice reserved seats that he managed to find, he’s drinking wine with his legs crossed and just watching the show- it’s not exactly his cup of tea but it’s still quite the show!

Sniper is chilling away from the loud noise- he likes rock music, and loud music in general! but he doesn’t like tightly confined spaces with blaring music in his ears- the whole experience can be kind of overwhelming for him so he’s probably chilling with spy so he can still enjoy the show without it being too overstimulating.

Demo is probably gonna drag soldier out of the pit- not out of concern, he knows his buddy is able to defend himself! but he’s fully aware that miss pauling might not be very happy to hear about the amount of people soldier has sent to the hospital in one night.

Medic is wearing earplugs for sure because rock music makes him act up in ways that are not fun for ANYONE. He gets like, violent when he’s excited? as seen on the battlefield when he has this manic smile on his face and he’s just yelling at the top of his lungs while causing imaginable pain to the enemy- that would be him at concerts if you don’t make sure he is accompanied + wearing earplugs.

Heavy is with scout, making sure the tiny bag man doesn’t get scooped up in the crowd- or generally have a panic attack because of how severely overstimulating the whole event is. But not to worry! Heavy still has fun, his way of showing he’s having fun is having a straight, stone cold face and standing perfectly still- he likes rock music, I promise.

Pyro is having the time of their life, he’s making all sorts of friends, showing off his own lighters and is collecting more from people just handing him stuff! he’s also got like, two light sticks that aren’t even related to the band they’re seeing but hey! free stuff!

Engineer is hanging out with pyro! He’s not only helping translate for pyro’s new pals, but he’s also just making sure pyro doesn’t get too overwhelmed with everything going on.. or sets anything on fire, that firebug gets too excited sometimes and just starts lighting stuff up so.. that’s something to be wary of!

[wishcamper]

Gone Baby Gone: birth control and the ethics of risky sex

CW: abortion, sexual violence.

Creds: licensed counselor with expertise in addiction, trauma, and gay stuff. Experience with tx exclusively for pregnant people and young parents with addictions.

Okay class! Today we’ll be talking about abortion oh my god don’t run away I’ll make it worth your while I promise.

Firstly, a disclaimer: I’m not interested in debating whether abortion should be legal/allowed/is moral or immoral. The research bears out, unequivocally, that access to comprehensive reproductive and family planning options improves everyone’s lives (1). And again, not actively anti-SJM or any characters, just exploring themes and what they say about us.

It’s so funny to me that NO one liked the pregnancy plot line in ACOSF, whether they love or hate or are indifferent (me) to Rhysand. And I think that’s because we, the largely femme audience engaging with the material, recognize the strings of violence weaved into it, possibly not even consciously but on a deep, bodily, instinctual level.

The 2007 crime drama Gone Baby Gone centers on a conversation about motherhood, parenting fitness, and what society owes to children. Beneath that though, and I believe unintentionally, is another story about pregnancy-capable people’s autonomy and the cycle of oppression around reproductive rights.

I’m going to spoil the movie for you - I don’t want you to watch it because Casey Affleck is a creep, and it’s not that good anyway. There’s a whole mystery plot, but the basics are: drug addict Helene’s daughter Amanda is kidnapped, then later thought to be killed but they never find her body. Casey Affleck, Boy Detective uncovers a scheme by two rogue cops to fake Amanda’s death and kidnap her because they think Helene isn’t a good mom. And they’re kind of right; once Amanda comes home, Helene is an incredibly neglectful mother, and the movie wants you to go woahhh, maybe those murdering unethical cops were right after all!

Sure, Jan.

The movie ends with the lead character wondering if Helene, for whom he’s literally killed people to bring her child back, is even fit to raise Amanda in the first place, even interested. And here’s where I feel complicated, because on one hand - yes, this is your child, and she’s completely innocent in all this and doesn’t deserve abuse and neglect. AND what were this women’s other options? Does anyone ask? Living in deeply Catholic working class Boston, did she have access to birth control? Could she have gotten an abortion? Would her culture (and her internalization of it) even allow her to entertain that option? Could she perhaps be using substances because of the circumstances of her life over which she has no control? (See Nesta, Interrupted for more on that.)

So I ask myself: what does it mean in our culture, as a person who can become pregnant, to have sex with someone who can impregnate you? What happens when your body becomes the battlefield on which larger conflicts are played out?

I’ve been thinking on these question a lot recently because my IUD is about to expire and my doctor recommended a back up method while I wait to get a new one. This has prompted my husband and me go farther into the kids conversation and consider not just what it would mean for me to get pregnant on purpose or accidentally, but what it would mean for me to get pregnant here. Where we live, abortion is technically legal but functionally impossible to find. Even for a wanted pregnancy, if it became life-threatening I might have extremely limited options.

This makes any sex inherently risky for me. IUDs failure rates range from 0.3% to 2.3%, but that still means as few as 3 in 1000 and as many as 2-3 in 100 users still get pregnant. And IUDs significantly raise the likelihood of medically dangerous pregnancies if a fetus is conceived (2). The long odds are somewhat comforting, but if I were to have an ectopic or other life-threatening pregnancy complication, I can’t trust that my local doctors would be able to save my life, legally. 

And we have talked about how we both feel strongly: it’s my life first. My husband says he would rather have me, and he would rather any children of ours have me, too. And there’s this sort of sick sense of gratitude I feel, because that is, to me, the only answer, but it feels like such a kindness nonetheless.

So we get to ACOSF (you forgot this was about ACOTAR, right? Me too.). When they decided to start trying to get pregnant, Rhys had to know the risk was there. My boy, you are half Illyrian. Even without Feyre being Mystique, get out your punnet square and do the math. Your baby always had a 25% chance of having wings. Conception was always risky. I refuse to believe he didn’t know that, and it was irresponsible of him to not inform her, a person who only entered his world like two years ago.

Then they conceive a baby with wings that, as far as they know, she has no way of safely delivering. If that’s true, why couldn’t Feyre have an abortion? I’m serious. They found out very early the baby had wings. It’s not unlike an ectopic pregnancy, or even a very small person becoming pregnant. Adolescent mothers (age 10-19) (god it feels gross to type that) are at much higher risk for conditions like eclampsia, endometritis, and systemic infections, not to mention fetal complications (3). Regardless of the details, Feyre’s body is not equipped to handle this pregnancy, and yet they never seem to explore the option of terminating it.

Which begs the question: did Feyre even know abortion was an option? Is it an option in Prythian?

In my opinion, probably. If the fae have contraception (let’s not even get into STDs and the ’they have magical healing’ BS), they must have abortion. The first record of an induced abortion was on an Egyption Papyrus around 1600BC, though the practice likely well predates that. The Ancient Greeks drove a plant to extinction for its abortifacient properties (4). And even when banned, people find ways, because they have to. Reproductive health has long been of importance to pregnancy-capable people for reasons of safety, resources, and survival. 

At the end of the day, Feyre is allowed to carry a pregnancy to term that she knows will kill her. That’s her right to bodily autonomy being exercised freely, and I will never begrudge her that. But imagine if abortion were an open option for her, and she knew the birth would kill her, and then Rhys. Knowing that, what do you think she’d choose? To die, bringing her mate along with her, and leave her child parentless, if they even survive? I really struggle to see that. Feyre loves hard, and knows what it’s like to grow up with extreme neglect. I cannot imagine her condemning a child to the same circumstance she found so damaging. But Rhys doesn’t tell her, forbids anyone else to, and possibly robs her of the ability to terminate the pregnancy. And also Madja, I don’t forgive her either for glossing over it. Girl needs to retake her boards.

In the beginning of my career, I worked at an inpatient substance use treatment center that was specifically for pregnant people and mothers with young children. They were allowed to bring two kids under the age of 5. I could write a million words about the flaws in that place, but it was at least something. In working with these people, the same themes came up over and over:

They wanted to get jobs but couldn’t afford childcare. 

Caring for children kept them isolated from support networks and financially strapped.

The daily maintenance and self-focus of sobriety felt at odds with being responsible for children. Ironically, that neglect of self often created the perfect conditions for relapse.

Children kept them tethered, legally and/or personally to abusive partners.

They received extreme judgment, even while seeking help, for “doing this to their children”.

They did not have adequate access to reproductive autonomy, whether financially, from religious beliefs, or otherwise.

This evidence is purely anecdotal, but I do think it speaks to the larger cycle of covert violence and policing of women and pregnancy-capable people’s bodies. It is well-documented that lack of reproductive freedom has a direct negative effect on mental health and wellbeing of people of child -bearing age (5). There is also a much larger intersection to this conversation when it comes to race, class, and the systemic oppression of people of color via reproductive restriction, but Feyre is privileged in the ACOTAR world for the most part so this doesn’t touch her. She doesn’t have to wonder if she can afford a baby, or if her husband is going to be racially profiled and taken to jail or just straight up murdered by law enforcement. (and this is not to downplay the experiences Rhysand have, that Sarah doesn’t give us, being a mixed race man, more so that he is in an extreme position of power.)

I think it’s a shame we didn’t get to explore this in ACOSF with Cassian and Nesta. They jump in the sack even after learning Nesta’s body could not handle an Illyrian baby. No amount of ‘the monthly aid’ justifies not having an honest and thorough conversation about what having sex means before they sleep together. Cassian must feel real confident in the birth control options of Prythian to be spreading his soldiers around so willy nilly. And I just hope, for all their sakes, that he’s right.

Ibis Reproductive Health and Center for Reproductive Rights, “Evaluating Priorities: Measuring Women’s and Children’s Health and Well-being against Abortion Restrictions in the States,” (2017).

Kim SK, Romero R, Kusanovic JP, Erez O, Vaisbuch E, Mazaki-Tovi S, Gotsch F, Mittal P, Chaiworapongsa T, Pacora P, Oggé G, Gomez R, Yoon BH, Yeo L, Lamont RF, Hassan SS. The prognosis of pregnancy conceived despite the presence of an intrauterine device (IUD). J Perinat Med. 2010;38(1):45-53. doi: 10.1515/jpm.2009.133. PMID: 19650756; PMCID: PMC3418877.

World Health Organization: WHO. (2023, June 2). Adolescent pregnancy. https://www.who.int/news-room/fact-sheets/detail/adolescent-pregnancy#:~:text=Adolescent%20mothers%20(aged%2010%E2%80%9319,birth%20and%20severe%20neonatal%20condition.

Muvs - Abtreibung in der Antike. (n.d.). https://muvs.org/en/topics/termination-of-pregnancy/abortion-in-antiquity-en/

Liu SY, Benny C, Grinshteyn E, Ehntholt A, Cook D, Pabayo R. The association between reproductive rights and access to abortion services and mental health among US women. SSM Popul Health. 2023 May 12;23:101428. doi: 10.1016/j.ssmph.2023.101428. PMID: 37215399; PMCID: PMC10199416.

[shadamyheadcanons]

Who do you think is phisically stronger? Amy or Shadow? I know Shadow is very powerfull with all his Chaos Attacks but what if they have a sparing match with no powers outside the strength of their muscles? I think Amy can keep up with him, maybe even better than Sonic

(I have another ask similar to this, but I’m tackling them separately because the other one is An Undertaking.)

In a strictly physical fight, I’d give the edge to Shadow. Super speed is an absurdly broken ability. Amy’s strong as hell, but strength doesn’t matter if you can’t land a hit. Just ask Knuckles:

Sonic X episode 56 [source]

We have actually seen Shadow and Amy fight before if you count the Archie comics, and it didn’t end well for Amy.

Archie Sonic Universe issue 22, page 20 [source]

Ouch :(

In his defense, she did strike first 11 pages earlier, and he probably wasn’t in any hurry to get clobbered again. Still not his finest moment, but at least he had the decency to look regretful afterward:

And Shadow. SHADOW.

Archie Sonic Universe issue 22, page 21 [source]

That’s not how you carry your future wife, dammit! She’s not a sack of potatoes! Even Sonic’s better at this. Someone teach this boy some manners. And I guess it runs in the family, too, because Silver isn’t much better:

IDW Sonic issue 59, page 6 [source]

How did Blaze wind up upside-down?! He’s carrying Amy just fine! 

Anyway, while it’s true that Shadow used his Chaos powers in that Archie fight, I don’t even think it would’ve made a difference if he didn’t. He’s just too fast. He wasn’t even teleporting when he grabbed her hammer.

Amy’s way more of a threat these days, but she’s leveled up in power, not speed. She still needs help to get anywhere in a hurry:

IDW Sonic issue 2, page 15 [source]

So unless we’re assuming all of Shadow’s speed comes from Chaos energy, which is a stretch, she couldn’t land a hit on him. And while we’re at it, summoning a giant hammer out of thin air is probably Chaos energy, too, and she’s not getting anywhere without the hammer.

Oddly enough, I actually think she’d have a better chance if they were allowed to use Chaos powers. This post is evidence enough. In short: she counters his Chaos Spears with Storming Heart, she can stop time longer than he can, AND she needs only half the rings he does to pull it off. Rose Typhoon matches Chaos Blast, too.

Most importantly, though, she can turn invisible to render Chaos Control useless. Shadow relies heavily on teleportation to control the battlefield and take enemies off guard, as shown above, but you can’t sneak up on something you can’t find, no matter how fast you are. Anyone who’s played Sonic Heroes knows that when you turn invisible as Espio, your teammates will awkwardly freeze in place until you’re visible again because they don’t know where you are. If you try it in a team battle, your opponent will just start running around in circles, as if they’re a frightened rabbit stuck on a loop of “WHAT DO I DO, WHAT DO I DO, WHAT DO I DO--” And guess what? Shadow is no exception! Proof:

It’s literally just this:

Gaze upon your precious Ultimate Lifeform now. Useless! For shame! Are you not entertained?! And it’s not just bad AI from an old game that proves this. Shadow relies heavily on being able to see his foes. He consistently struggles against trickery. That’s how Infinite got the jump on him.

Amy can’t stay invisible as long as Espio can, but she wouldn’t have to. She’d have plenty of time to take Shadow by surprise. With modern!Amy’s obscenely high damage output, she’d demolish him before he could even think of striking back.

Amy in 2009:

Archie Sonic Universe issue 22, page 9 [source]

Amy now:

IDW issue 2, page 7 [source]

Sonic Frontiers Prologue: Convergence, page 4 [source]

IDW Sonic issue 58, pages 19-20 [source]

He’d probably think it was beautiful...if he lived.

So there you have it. Sonic and Shadow ultimately just stalemate each other, but if Amy were given access to all her OP abilities--ALL of them--and a little luck, I think she could potentially take Shadow out. It also helps that she never really uses her more broken skills. He’s never seen her invisibility, for example. If he takes the same approach he took in Archie, he wouldn’t start out fighting at full strength like he does against someone like Sonic. Say what you like about the Archie fight, but he was fairly merciful--for him, at least--toward Amy. If he tried that now, it would be over before he even knew what he was up against.

Will it ever happen in canon? Nah, but that’s what this blog is for!

[lovestuckyhatemarvel]

Apologies, but I’m about to over analyze a very old meme in the middle of the night because I can’t sleep. And I’m about to talk about the lord of the rings movies more than the books because even though I’ve read the books, I’ve watched the movies more. Also, the meme is about the movies, so leave my tired ass alone.

So I kind of hate the fellowship at 100% vs 99% strength meme because I’ve seen people talk about it seriously and I think that’s a fundamental misunderstanding of the way the characters function in the story. Like I’m sorry but if you think any single character in the fellowship is more important than the others instead of just a personal favorite, you’re just textually wrong. And this is about to get long so brace yourself. But also if you hate long things, why the fuck are you here?

Aragorn and Sam are spectacular characters that are necessary to the success of the mission but not disproportionately to the whole. Because the whole is the point. The fellowship is the point. Even Boromir, whose direct actions are arguably the least due to dying early, has long reaching effects even after his death. If Boromir was never there, things don’t go the same and may not even go as well long term. Does Aragorn even accept his role as much or as quickly if he doesn’t have Boromir’s dying breath calling him his king? I’d argue no. However I will admit that this character is the one I have the least arguments for other than ‘trust me, bro’ and ‘that’s my baby, and I’m really proud’ while exhausted.

I feel silly even pointing out what Gandalf’s impact is since he’s the reason the journey can even start to begin with. Without him, Frodo gets a weird ring from Bilbo and then dies before he’s 50 because he treats it like a random trinket and is the easiest target the Nazgûl have ever tracked. Gandalf also saves the entire fellowship from the Balrog and is the reason King Théoden becomes available as an ally instead of being God’s crustiest hindrance. In general, the intricate removal of Saruman’s direct impact requires a wizard. Also, if he’s not there, who gets that world’s greatest grandpapa mug I made?

Legolas and Gimli are married so I’m talking about them together. Beyond the fact Gimli almost becomes Galadriel’s favorite side ho, the two don’t have a ton of solo story beats in the movies. However, what they lack in specific moments they make up for by being absolute monsters on the battlefield. Aragorn can’t do most of the shit he does without my gay uncles backing him up. There are literal battles that would have failed and in a war where they’re already outnumbered and outmatched, you actually can’t afford more loss.

Merry and Pippin are eternal besties so they’re also getting talked about together. Initially they’re treated as comic relief and at times even a hindrance in the movies, but they do step up. The Ents go to war because of Merry and Pippin. And the Ents are necessary for dealing with Isengard. Take them out and the war still has an orc factory that can just overwhelm the war with numbers alone. They also have direct impacts on Gondor and Rohan in ways I’m too tired to get into. Also, Pippin sings like an angel even when a gross old man is eating in grossest way possible. Talent. He has the range.

And now we’re down to the main crux of serious arguments I’ve seen. Sam and Frodo. Both of them ring bearers. Is Sam way more important than Frodo? Absolute not.

So Sam is arguably an amazing character, but don’t get it confused. Sam would have never volunteered to take the ring to Mordor, didn’t actually handle the ring’s direct influence well, and also would have gotten rid of Gollum.

Because psych!!! This next part is actually about how Gollum, Frodo, and Sam are three sides to a triangle you can’t remove any part of lest it falls apart completely! Take that, M Night Shyamalan, there’s a new mediocre and fully telegraphed twist in town!!!

Frodo has the initial willingness to take the ring to be destroyed and endures the ring better than literally anyone else. Basically everyone else either gives unhinged talks about what they’d do with the power before they ever touch it or they touch it for 10 seconds and go full Rick Astley. Frodo carries it for days and even wears it a few times before he sees Galadriel and is still capable of trying to give it away. That in itself is extraordinary and cannot be understated. Like that’s the willpower of a god. Put some respect on that.

Frodo, because of his connection to the ring and awareness of its impact, desperately wants to believe Gollum can be saved. After all, that means that he can be saved, and so he does everything in his power to keep Gollum around and get him better. This means they have a guide and when it comes down to it, the reason the ring is destroyed at all. Because Gollum is the one to ultimately, if by accident, destroy the ring. You need Frodo to carry the ring and get Gollum there, you need Sam to get Frodo there, and you need Gollum to destroy it.

And another plot twist that’s not a twist at all at all, but while there’s no part of the fellowship that you can remove and still win, the fellowship itself cannot succeed without 1246885356 other moving parts. Elrond, Arwen, Galadriel, Théoden, Éomer, Éowyn, Faramir, Treebeard, Grima fucking Wormtongue, and dozens of others, some who don’t even get directly named in the trilogy, are all important. They’re all necessary. And there are even more moving parts in the books. Pour one out for my very good friend, Forest God Tom Bombadil. He’s not dead, I just think him and his trees would like a drink.

The point of the whole goddamn thing is that no one can do this mission alone. None of them. Yeah, not even Sam or Aragorn. It’s a fellowship and it’s about that connection and that community. There are themes.