#a wild (implied) plot appears!

[kogarashi-art]

Summary: A series of moments in the lives of Sonic and Sally, showing the reflection of their childhood selves in their later relationship. The more things change, the more they realize what they had all along. Continuity: Sonic SatAM (with a little bit of game stuff where it fits) Tags: Fluff, Friendship/Love, Then and Now, Slice of Life Relationship Tags: Sally/Sonic

7: Transformation Through everything, she still knows him.

What can I say? SatAM didn't have any transformations outside of roboticization, but the first two things I thought of when I saw this prompt were "Super Sonic" and "the werehog." So this is me shoehorning them into implied plot. (And I still manage to reference roboticization anyway.)

Also I just keep getting longer with these things (aside from #5).

[starcurtain]

What in the World is Going on With Mydei's Backstory?

One thing I noticed while playing through the story is that there appears to be something very strange going on with Mydei's backstory. Namely: It's almost like he's got two different backstories going on at once.

And I wonder if that's on accident... or on purpose. On the one hand, Amphoreus's plot has my brain spinning wild conspiracy theories about time loops and multiple lives and even the whole world possibly being some sort of simulation, which would make "two simultaneous timelines" make perfect sense.

(On the other hand... Hoyo doesn't have the best track record for character timelines. Remember how Sunday and Robin's mother was killed when the stellaron fell on Penacony... the same stellaron that fell before the Astral Express crash landed... centuries ago... 😂)

But anyway, here's what I mean:

In 3.0, Mydei makes statements that suggest he lived in Castrum Kremnos:

Phainon also says that Mydei is "homesick" for Kremnos, implying this was his home at some point.

The Chryseus Leo in Castrum Kremnos recognizes him by the sound of his voice, and Mydei responds as if reuniting with a well-loved mentor:

This suggests Mydei spent long enough in Kremnos to be affectionate with Chryseus Leo (he even calls him just "Leo" like a nickname) and have learned from him as a teacher.

In 3.1, Mydei speaks about the Kremnoan royal library as if he has personal knowledge of what scrolls/slates are available there. He also calls it "my library" with a possessive but especially fond feeling, as if he's spent a decent amount of time there and loves it.

And, during Trailblazer and Castorice's visit to past Castrum Kremnos, which supposedly takes place before Eurypon's fall, an NPC on the street curses Mydei as a traitor and claims that all the Kremnoans who went with him to Okhema are "deserters."

Castorice and the Trailblazer even have a discussion about whether Mydei's choice to leave Castrum Kremnos was brave or cowardly. This indicates that Mydei's whereabouts were well-known to the people of Castrum Kremnos before the city met its downfall.

However... there's a big problem with all this: None of this actually make sense with the backstory Mydei himself states in 3.1.

According to the flashback we experience in 3.1, Mydei was thrown into the Sea of Souls as an infant.

This correlates with what we know from his leaked voicelines (skip the image below if you want to avoid the leak!)

His earliest memory is in the Sea of Souls. He himself states he has no memory of living in Kremnos before his father threw him into the sea. He lived nine years in the Sea of Souls before returning to land.

Then, he states that he met his five friends directly after returning from the Sea of Souls:

And he states that they lived together "in exile" for ten years.

But... uh... who exiled them?

It literally can't have been Eurypon, given that Eurypon doesn't recognize Mydei at all and explicitly had no idea Mydei was still alive the whole time:

A few lines later, Mydei also states:

"When we left Kremnos."

So Mydei... went back to Kremnos after leaving the Sea of Souls and meeting his friends...? And he lived in the inner city and had access to the royal library, apparently, but nobody loyal to the king ever noticed him? And then he was somehow exiled after that? For... some other crime entirely (since it wouldn't be for being the missing crown prince, given Eurypon didn't know he was back)? Or just decided to self-exile at some point, despite living presumably relatively peacefully in his home nation?

When could this even have fit in the timeline?

We're told that by "the fifth year" of Mydei returning from the Sea of Souls (Mydei would have been 14 years old) three of his five friends were already dead, and he'd already waged war with at least two different countries (Ladon and Aidonia).

We're never remotely given an indication here that there is room in the timeline for Mydei to have returned to Kremnos and just lived there as an undercover citizen. He instead specifically states that he and his friends lived in the wilds of Amphoreus, roaming the land for ten years.

He even notes that all of his friends died before he ever had a chance to bring the detachment to join up with Okhema:

There's also the entire aspect of Mydei's situation being paralleled to the children he meets in Okhema. When he asks them "How can you consider Kremnos your home when you never lived there?" we, as the players, are supposed to recognize that Mydei feels this way too: Castrum Kremnos was not his home--because theoretically the timeline is telling us he never actually lived here.

This is reinforced by the "As I've Written" chapter, where Okhema is once again posited as Mydei's only home:

So... Something is really not adding up here, especially if you think to the NPC in past Castrum Kremnos who describes Mydei word-for-word as both the "crown prince" and a "Chrysos Heir" who has already deserted for Okhema with his army before Eurypon's death.

In the Kremnos ruins, there's this memory fragment where Krateros confirms that Mydei and the detachment are already working with Okhema before Eurypon's death:

Except that this definitely conflicts with the timeline Mydei gives for his own joining up with Okhema. He says all of his friends died before the detachment went to Okhema, and explicitly that Hephaestion died after Eurypon:

So this is Schroedinger's detachment, both allied to Okhema and not at the same time. 😂

We also know that Mydei didn't live in Kremnos after killing his father, since he explicitly states:

Why would the people need to be led back into Kremnos... if they hadn't left yet...

Furthermore, some of Hepaestion's dialogue also makes it sound like Mydei already had the Kremnoan people with him at this time, and that the migrant Kremnoans were already waiting for Mydei to lead them back to Kremnos:

Theoretically, Mydei could have been traveling around Amphoreus just picking up random Kremnoan exiles and formed the detachment out of those random Kremnoans he picked up... maybe? I guess? Since it definitely doesn't make sense that he absconded from Castrum Kremnos with a whole army and his dad never even noticed!

And the icing on the cake even. During his confrontation with Eurypon, Mydei says:

He knew about Nikador's soul being split?! He knew about what had been done to make Nikador immortal way back then? And then he just... FORGOT before 3.0?! Whattttt is even happening herreeee?

The only way even part of this works as a single timeline is if the events are:

Mydei is thrown into the Sea of Souls as an infant.

Mydei lives 9 years as a feral siren child in the Sea of Souls.

Mydei finally returns to land, meets his five friends.

Mydei, despite knowing his father is out to kill him, sneaks back into Castrum Kremnos and somehow manages to find a place to live as an undercover citizen (under a fake name too, presumably?!) in the inner city even though he would theoretically be perceived as a penniless, nameless orphan at this point. Maybe he couch surfs at his five bros' houses, I don't know lol.

In some relatively short period of time (less than five years for sure), he manages to build an entire detachment army under his father's nose with no one giving away his identity to anyone loyal to the king (despite the fact that we see many Kremnoan citizens still loyal to Eurypon all the way to the end), then he exiles himself and his entire army from Kremnos, still without the king even noticing?

Mydei and his army pillage randomly for ten years, then Mydei returns and kills his father.

He leads the Kremnoan detachment to Okhema to join Aglaea's cause.

However, this still can't resolve the continuity error of the random people of Castrum Kremnos knowing he's 1) alive, 2) the crown prince, and 3) assisting Okhema all before Eurypon, the literal king, even learned Mydei was still alive, plus knowing about the plot to break Nikador's soul up and then somehow just flat out forgetting that lol.

Even Castrum Kremnos's timeline itself is confusing

There's also the weird stuff going on with Castrum Kremnos's timeline.

We know that Castrum Kremnos's last Kremnos Festival took place at the end of the Chrysos War. In 3.0, Phainon talks about this war and the tales of the Chrysos heirs involved with it as if it is something that took place long enough ago to have become the stuff of legends:

When being exposed to the present Kremnos, Gnaeus implies that a significant amount of time must have passed between Eurypon's death and the Trailblazer and Castorice's mission:

And Gnaeus also confirms that supposedly thousands of years have passed between Castrum Kremnos's last Kremnos Festival and the present:

Mydei implies that the people of Castrum Kremnos have been away from their homeland long enough for their traditions to have faded:

Aelius, who is a grown-ish looking NPC from the "Love in the Time of Black Tide" questline, notes that when he came with Mydei to Okhema, he was just a child:

All of this suggested that Castrum Kremnos's downfall actually happened years and years ago, some of it suggesting possibly decades or even centuries of lying in ruin.

The fact that an NPC aged to adulthood or near to it while Mydei didn't change at all definitely had people convinced in 3.0 that Mydei was literally "immortal" in that he did not age, suggesting he could be centuries old.

However, that... also doesn't make sense.

We have Damionis who managed to take a picture at the last Kremnos Festival, suggesting it wasn't very many years ago, given that he's clearly not an older NPC:

And Krateros, who clearly does age, is shown as an already grown man in the flashbacks with Eurypon and Gorgo.

To complicate matters even further, we have two Gorgos--one in the past and one who was Mydei's mother, but both of whom achieved the same feat. The devs even deliberately obfuscate on the original Gorgo's identity through the readables to further link the Gorgo of the past with the Gorgo of the present by refusing to state the gender of the Gorgo of the past:

It's not on accident. They want players to conflate the two Gorgos.

Andddd another edit, because I keep finding things that don't add up. When Phainon and the Trailblazer go to Kremnos to fight Flame Reaver, they run into a bunch of Kremnoans fighting the black tide. Phainon speculates that Aglaea must have rallied them, except...

That guy definitely has no idea why Aglaea would be giving him any commands, and, more than that--he doesn't even know who Phainon is. Could there really be any of the Kremnoan detachment that don't at least know of Okhema's Chrysos Heirs? And why would he imply that their "king will deal with you" if Mydei is aligned with Okhema?

I don't think these Kremnoans came from the time period we think they did...

How can we reconcile this?

We could just handwave this and say "Classic Hoyo, not great with keeping track of their own writing." We have evidence they've made mistakes (and retcons) before.

But with timelines being so central to Amphoreus's plot... I'm suspicious, enough so to suggest that there may be enough conflicting information here that this could be on purpose.

In fact, if you separate out the events that don't make sense together, it almost appears as if there could be two completely different timelines, or as if events from two different timelines have become stitched together, trying to create one coherent story and yet, like mismatched puzzle pieces, not quite adding up.

In one timeline, the one that seems most prevalent, Mydei (who ages normally) was tossed into the Sea of Souls as an infant despite his mother's protests, lived (and died) in the sea nine years, then was discovered by a band of five Kremnoan exiles who became his friends, wandered with them for ten years, and eventually returned to Castrum Kremnos to kill his father at around 19 years old. From there, he led any Kremnoans who were willing to follow him to Okhema as refugees and as a detachment army, and they've served in Okhema for no more than a few years--enough that Aglaea still calls him a youth and Mydei hasn't noticeably aged since he killed his father, and enough that Damionis, who visited Castrum Kremnos during the last festival, is still a young man.

In the other timeline, we have a much more ancient Castrum Kremnos, one which had already fallen into ruin long enough ago for its final king to turn to dust and the Chrysos War to become the stuff of legends, according to Phainon. In this timeline, a version of Mydeimos who was much more familiar with the city, one who apparently had access to the royal library and lived in the inner city of Castrum Kremnos (which Phainon says matches him having the status of a prince), suddenly decides to betray his country, possibly due to seeing his father decline into madness. He becomes a "traitor of a crown prince" according to the regular Kremnoans, but manages to assemble an army of his own loyal followers, which becomes the Kremnoan detachment that lays waste to enemy countries for years. At some point, he is recognized as a Chrysos Heir during the Chrysos War era and allies himself with Okhema, and then only after that returns to kill his father.

And the biggest hint we have to support this "alternate timelines" theory?

The game itself.

When Mydei returns to Castrum Kremnos, we actually see two different scenarios weaving together--the "truth" as we know it, with a destroyed Castrum Kremnos, and the other where the nation is whole and happy.

The assumption the game leaves players with on the surface is that Mydei is simply imagining things, envisioning a "dream" scenario where he reunites with his lost friends and gets to live in a flourishing Castrum Kremnos with his people.

However... I feel the need to point out that every time the scene cuts between the "dream" and "reality"... We actually hear the exact same sound effect that plays whenever you activate Oronyx's miracles to travel between timelines.

For comparison, Mydei's "dream":

And Oronyx's miracles sound effect:

In fact, the visual effect of swapping timelines (darkening on the edges of the screen, a flash of blue geometric shapes) is actually also perfectly identical, and you can even hear Oronyx's voice as Mydei shifts between "reality" and his supposed "dream."

If it were just the repeated sound effect, it might be easy to say it's just Hoyo reusing resources. But... why play Oronyx's animation and voice over the scene if this isn't a time shift?

Unless... all the confusion is on purpose.

Is it possible that what we're seeing unfold in Amphoreus isn't the truth? That the stories we're hearing and seeing might not be whole stories and are instead just scattered pieces? Different timelines stitched together, like someone telling stories about the past but misremembering the details? With memories overlapping, or overwriting each other, or being altered by timelines or time loops collapsing in on themselves? (Something similar happens with Tribios's story, by the way--Tribbie insists that in the ancient timeline, Tribios was completely alone and that we as time travelers with Oronyx's power are in fact only witnessing a memory, and yet Phainon notes several times that it's not possible for Tribios to have made it through without outside assistance, suggesting the two timelines are in fact overlapping, and what Tribbie remembers in her memory isn't actually accurate.)

Is it possible that the events of Mydei's backstory don't quite add up because they're not supposed to?

Is Mydei really imagining things as he returns to Kremnos... or are we actually seeing entirely different timelines or lives "resonate" with each other, collapsing into each other to create a single jumbled story that not even Mydei realizes isn't true?

Or... Maybe Hoyo just goofed again. I guess we'll just have to wait and see! 😂

[deikshen]

Baby Fever concept fic idea,

Liu Qingge finds a baby. Something like, he finds some demons that apparently kidnapped him and gets rid of them. The baby is clearly demonic in appearance like, small pointed ears and perhaps some scales, and, well, Liu Qingge chooses to keep him. Actually, more than wanting to keep him, it's like... He can't let him go. Then, Liu Qingge accidentally acquires a baby.

But that's not all. Obviously, Mu Qingfang is one of the first to see the baby; he checks on his health, gives some instructions, normal doctor work. What follows is that Mu Qingfang goes to a small village to buy herbs and trade some things and finds that the noble house has a baby. A pretty baby girl, apparently the daughter of a servant who died in childbirth, and who will be raised to be put to work as a slave as soon as she is of age.

... Mu Qingfang accidentally acquires a baby. The less said about what happened in that house, the better.

The babies are of similar ages. They join in playing, and Mu Qingfang comments that it is conducive for babies to grow up in environments with others of their peers. They can sit up, babble incoherently, bite cold cloths because of teething. They are pretty. Here and there, the other curious Peak Lords and some other disciples come to see the children. They are extremely adorable!!

... It starts to get worrisome when Shang Qinghua shows up, on the verge of a panic attack, with demonic twins in his arms. Mobei Jun rescued them from a corrupt sect that wanted to do something macabre with them and just brought them to him as if nothing happened!! "If Qinghua takes care of my Palace, Qinghua must take care of what's in it. These, belong to the palace now, and Qinghua must take care of them" damn it!

Mu Qingfang claims that they are healthy and strong demon babies. A little bigger than the others, they bite and fight each other brutally, but apparently, according to Mobei Jun, that implies that they are healthy and friendly babies.

A little more humorous and a little more worrying, Sha Hualing acquires a baby that Liu Mingyan does not allow her to take very far. Apparently, she found that baby wrapped in blankets, and decided to keep her because that little wild thing bit her. If she can defend herself even in her small incompetent body, Sha Hualing is going to make sure she learns to do better than that. Liu Mingyan begs please don't.

Shen Qingqiu tries to steer his husband away from all sorts of babies, totally convinced that it's some kind of weird wife plot that affects in chain. But it's affecting THE ENTIRE CANG QIONG SECT! He is not ready to have a son or daughter o whatever, he is not ready to be a parent, and he is not ready for accidentally acquire a baby!!! Thanks!!!

Luckily, for now, Luo Binghe has stayed away. There hasn't been an excuse for Luo Binghe to look at that baby Liu Qingge who started that whole circus, and apparently, that was all that was needed. According to Shang Qinghua, it could be a strange passive skill of the baby demon to allow it to grow in an environment without risk or danger. Something like attracting others. So as long as Luo Binghe does not see or directly interact with the baby, and as long as Shen Qingqiu too will stay away... everything will be fine.

(Shen Qingqiu ignores a single fight that Luo Binghe and Liu Qingge almost had. A fight that Luo Binghe interrupted before it started because of the big little eyes of the baby that he hadn't seen Liu Qingge was carrying in his arms. One glance was enough.)

Then one day, he arrives at Qing Jing after an afternoon of ranting with Shang Qinghua while the demon children are playing in the backyard with some disciples (or rather, the disciples are used as human teethers). And... there's too much silence. Lots of silence and lots of quiet.

"Binghe?" asks Shen Qingqiu loudly, entering the bamboo house. A quick "SHHHH" follows from his husband.

... Shen Qingqiu is considering leaving. Leaving or jumping off the edge of the peak. Anything would be better.

Above Luo Binghe is a clearly demonic baby girl sleeping. She is probably the oldest of all the babies so far, a little over a year old. Her skin is jade white, but there are two tiny horns on its forehead, a green demonic mark, and tiny iridescent scales on its skin and pointed ears.

She sleeps with her tiny mouth half-open; her face is round and sweet, and her little fists cling to Luo Binghe's robe as if letting go would make him run away from her.

...

Shen Qingqiu loves her immediately.

NO, HE'S NOT READY FOR PATERNITY AND NO CRAP LIKE THAT, BUT DAMN THIS WIFE PLOT IS TOO STRONG!

A couple more random babies later, Shen Qingqiu discovers that the baby Liu Qingge acquired is indeed a demonic species known to create packs from birth. Thus, despite from being weak and fragile, they survive into adulthood. They make others want to protect them, love them, care for them; they attract them to situations where other babies, children of their natural caregivers, can be in their vicinity to mingle and grow together.

Shen Qingqiu manages to make a powerful seal that seal that passive skill. By the time he has done so, even Yue Qingyuan already has two small children, a three-year-old and the tiny baby with just a few months old. Qi Qingqi has a crying child whom she spoils excessively. Mu Qingfang acquired another baby in the form of a two-year-old little girl who speaks with a lisp, even damn Tianlang-jun had acquired his own tiny little girl whom he dresses in gold and full of flowers!!!

(You can't ask Tianlang-jun to listen to the rumor that everyone in Cang Qiong is having babies and not want to see that.)

With the passive skill out, everyone relaxes as much as possible. Relocating the children in new homes and with new families... is something they won't do. Despite everything, they have become too attached. Besides, these children have spent a lot of time together, they would miss each other too much if they were separated.

("Didn't you say you didn't want a baby, Cucumber-bro?" Shang Qinghua asks, watching the adorable baby girl playing with Shen Qingqiu's fan, putting it in her mouth.

"If you keep annoying me, I'll make sure your husband knows about that plant that makes ass babies," Shen Qingqiu threatens.

"Bro no" Shang Qinghua begs. "If there is even an ounce of goodness left in your body, please don't."

And Shen Qingqiu smiles. The baby in his arms, cute and not understanding much, imitates his smile.)

[ryzheling]

⟡ ݁₊ . of burning cinders and devotion.

characters ⊹ ࣪ ˖ knight!endo yamato x princess!reader x prince!takiishi chika contents ⊹ ࣪ ˖ nsfw mdni !! some eventual smut in the end, unprotected p in v, implied pseudocest, cucking chika, marking, lots of plot building, mention of blood, ooc? man idk how to write chika. lmk if there's more tho wc ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ~ 1.6k | pt.1

a/n ⊹ ࣪ ˖ kind of a backstory(?) to pt.1 and only an expansion on the concept bcs i'm lazy to write an actual fic 🙂‍↕️

In a world where blood kinship matters the most when it comes to inheriting the crown. In which royal blood is what you need in order to be acknowledged as one of the worthy ones to rule the kingdom. In which you – the crown princess – discover that your path to inheriting a spot in the royal family might not be an easy ride after all.

Growing up in the palace is something only the commoners would wish to experience, and you were fortunate enough to have that privilege, silver spoons shoved into your mouth from left and right. Your parents, being the pure-blooded that they are, are all the more glad to have you and a crown prince to rule over the kingdom after their passing.

Yes – you, and your older brother, the crown prince, Takiishi Chika.

There’s only a year difference between you and Chika, and some would say the two of you are not even direct siblings, with how different you are compared to him, but your brother has always been a wild card. With his hair resembling that of a flaming torch and ember eyes burning in a molten heat of shrouded violence, he possesses the temper of a slow but raging tempest, ready to wreak havoc at the slightest of spark.

You’ve never seen anyone capable enough to tame his fire, except for one. But that is to say ‘taming him’ is an overstatement, because if anything, Endo Yamato – the prince’s most trusted knight – seems to enjoy feeding Chika’s flare and make him burn brighter. The duo is nothing but troublesome together, but when it comes to council matters, they rule with an iron fist.

Under Chika’s commands, Endo was not only his personal guard, but also yours. Anywhere your brother went, the loyal knight was there along the way. Though you hate that the man loves to get on your nerves sometimes, teasing you left and right until you’re left fussing and a flustered mess.

He was hundreds of pounds full of muscle and arrogance, that cocky blue-eyed bastard.

Regardless, years spent living under the same roof had convinced you that Chika had grown the tiniest of soft spots for you.

He was there when you were given your first hand-sewn doll from your handmaiden. He was there lending you a hand when you scraped your knee playing in your mother’s garden. He was there watching as Endo taught you how to fend for yourself, how to tango with the swords and daggers. And he was there when you received your first letter from a neighboring kingdom, asking for your hand in what appears to be a marriage of alliance.

“Reject it,” the prince ordered, his tone soft yet held so much power, as it always had. Endo, who had been the one to collect the sealed parchment from a messenger, seemed unsurprised at the quick decision-making. He turned to you with an eyebrow raised and shrugged, all the while folding the letter back into its original state. “That’s that.”

Confused, you shifted your position to sit more properly on Chika’s study chair (which he seldomly ever used). “Are you sure? Should we not… consider a little more on this matter?”

From where he had been standing on the open balcony, Chika pulled his gaze away from the starry skies to give you a brief glance, “Do you want to get married?” There’s a slight curiosity and… something else brewing in his eyes. Something you couldn’t quite ponder much on the meaning behind as you stammered, “W-well, no, but–”

“Then it is settled.”

Just like that, the conversation ended there.

And so did all the other marriage proposals that came after, promptly getting turned down with no more than two words uttered by the prince. You were skeptical at first, especially when there were deals that could benefit the kingdom greatly, but over time, you’d learnt to not question your brother’s choices.

You know he’s got your best interest in mind. He does.

Why else would Chika forbid other men to stake a claim on you if not to let you keep your freedom, right?

It’s only when a few years later that you’d been a fair maiden for so long– too long, that suspicions had begun to rise within the kingdom, doubting your place as a member of the royal council. City folks talk among themselves and maids whisper in the halls about how you are not carrying out your duty as a lady of the palace.

Your parents are only partly worried, as they could easily assure the masses that it is simply not your time yet, and that you are enjoying your time governing the kingdom alongside your brother as his advisor.

The only problem, however, is trying to keep the servants from talking about things they shouldn’t be privy to.

It was at the wrong place and the wrong time. A new servant boy, too naive and too enthusiastic, happened to roam the halls a moment or two past the dead of the night. He stumbled upon the great chamber, the door ajar for the words to escape. What he heard was unlike any other gossip, but what a shame it is that the god of luck was not on his side that night.

One fallen vase and a crash later, down to the dungeon he went to serve his sentence for stepping foot into unauthorized territory, and for discovering that you are indeed, not one of pureblood, after all.

It was mentally jarring.

Finding out your biological family was not, in fact, biological, that is. The knowledge that you are not part of the noble family, no royal blood flowing through your veins, no rights to claim the throne, it had you tripping over your steps multiple times in disbelief all over again.

Safe to say your family was left in a state of distress that night. Then morning came, you were supposed to attend an audience to decide on the servant’s punishment, though with everything still a jumbled mess in your head, Endo had asked you to stay in your chambers, as per Chika’s orders.

It’s not long after that when the grand white doors to your room creak open, your brother stepping in like it is his own space. He catches you sitting on the edge of your huge bed, staring mindlessly out the window with misty eyes.

“Nii-cha–”

Now standing in front of you, Chika cuts your words off sharply. “I’ve never liked you calling me that.”

That shuts you up entirely. And you don’t blame him. Chika is not your brother. He never was.

With trembling breaths, you slowly drop your head to stare at your fidgeting fingers. “Apologies, I–” Inhale. “I’m still trying to understand all these things,” you sigh quietly.

His hand then outstretches towards your face, barely giving you any room to flinch before he has the side of your face cradled in his palm. There’s a certain glint in those ambers when you look up at him, one that has shivers running down your spine.

Like an ignited splint, seconds away from bursting into flames as he takes in the quiver in your lips. You’re quite literally a sad, pitiful heap in his grasp that Chika can feel the sense of thrill shooting straight into his veins at the sight. Running a thumb tenderly across your cheek, he almost wished you could see all the messed up thoughts running through his mind.

His voice is low, lazy almost, when he mumbles, “Do you want to feel better, princess? Want your big brother to make you feel good?” The words were so sudden that your expression tightens, mouth gasping through it all.

“W-what–”

Another click of the door opening interrupts the moment, your head swivelling and eyes latching to a pair of aquamarines. Endo closes the door behind him, swiftly glancing at the prince with a slight nod. “Sire,”

You don’t miss the faint sound of the door lock, nor the splatters of crimson across his black tunic and pants. They’re fresh, definitely not there when Endo had stopped by your room earlier in the morning.

The knight slowly makes a beeline towards you, as if he already knew what he’s supposed to do even without the prince telling him to, and your heart gallops in your chest like a stallion racing through the course track.

It is then and there that you realize, what these men think of you is anything but pure.

You realize it in the way Endo leans in to kiss you, sensual and deep like the abysmal depth of his devotion to you and Chika, praises falling from his lips like you’re a deity to be worshipped;

In the way he holds you close, letting you claw and grip at him however hard or gentle as he licks and sucks at your skin, hickeys littering your canvas like a grandiose painting;

In the way he grunts and hums at your moans and whines, cock thrusting in and out of your slick cunt until stars burst behind your eyelids;

In the way he whimpers out his own orgasm, pulling out to cum all over your thighs right after your sweet release;

In the way he’s ridiculously throbbing after seeing Chika seated in a velvet chair just a few feet away from the bed, his dick leaking and straining against his pants as the latter imagines how it’d feel to have you crying out “nii-chan” instead of his name.

And it is also then that you realize, for all these years you’d told yourself it was wrong to think of the prince and the knight in such a vulgar, obscene light; perhaps you were no better than the next sinner as this red-hot desire set ablaze just for them were too strong for you to turn a blind eye to.

veen u mentioned prince!takiishi and now look at what you've done.

©ryzheling. do not steal, translate or repost my work anywhere else!

[dxrlingluv]

hihi, can I have Hermes x reader where reader outricks and suprises him half of the time(I have no idea how reader does that) and he's just there with shock pikachu face but at the same time with the heart eyes and he's DEFINITELY going to get the reader back next time

A Challenge

A/N : Eek! Now this is something. Heart dividers belongs to @cafekitsune ! Hermes art belongs to Zieru, from yt ! Thank you so much for requesting <3 Lemmie tell ya’ll a little secret. I don’t know where I’m going with this especially since there’s no major plot(like a series fic) so I literally just went like- “Yeah whatever, throw this, throw that… Yeah good enough.”

WARNING : Remember, I imagine Hermes’s design as Zieru’s but I don’t think I’ll ever be mentioning his appearance in my fics other than what he wears so this should be a warning! You are still free to imagine him as anything you desire. GN!Reader implied but no gender was mentioned. This is platonic, but if I were to make a part two, that’s where I will establish their rs.

The halls of Olympus were alive, as they always were, with a symphony of divine activity. Gods and goddesses rushed about their business, celestial music drifted through the divine halls, and the scent of ambrosia wafted from unseen kitchens. Among this vibrant chaos, you moved with an air of quiet confidence, a subtle smirk playing on your lips.

You were a divine being of considerable power and even greater cunning, a fact well-known – and perhaps slightly dreaded – by some of your more mischievous counterparts.

Especially Hermes.

The messenger god, with his lightning-fast speed and even faster wit, considered himself the trickster par excellence. He reveled in elaborate schemes, cunning deceptions, and the sheer thrill of outsmarting anyone who dared to challenge him. But you, with your own unique brand of subtle manipulation and unpredictable strategies, had become his favorite — and most frustrating — opponent.

It had started small, a playful game of one-upmanship that had quickly escalated into a full-blown divine rivalry. Hermes would devise an intricate plan to, say, "borrow" your prized artifact — perhaps a celestial object of immense power, only to find you several steps ahead, having replaced it with a remarkably convincing replica made of enchanted stardust.

Or you might "accidentally" redirect his deliveries, sending a shipment of ambrosia to the Underworld or switching the lyrics of his latest bardic composition with a series of increasingly absurd limericks.

The best part? You always managed to maintain an air of innocent detachment, a serene composure that drove Hermes absolutely wild. He'd be left sputtering in disbelief, his golden eyes wide with a mixture of shock, grudging admiration, and a healthy dose of competitive fire.

Today's challenge involved the theft of his Caduceus, the symbol of his authority. He'd been particularly smug about its security, boasting of layers of enchantments and a particularly nasty sphinx guarding its resting place.

You had, of course, taken that as a personal invitation.

The plan had been meticulously crafted, a delicate dance of misdirection and illusion. It involved a fake distress call, a strategically placed illusion of yourself, and a rather persuasive argument with the sphinx — who, it turned out, had a soft spot for riddles about particularly dense clouds.

Now, you stood before him, the Caduceus casually resting on your shoulder, its twin snakes hissing a greeting. Hermes, predictably, was a picture of stunned disbelief.

His jaw hung slightly open, his usually sparkling eyes wide with an expression that could only be described as a "shocked Pikachu face" if such a mortal concept could be applied to a god.

He stared at the Caduceus, then at you, then back at the Caduceus, his mind clearly struggling to process the sheer audacity of your actions.

"H-How..." he finally managed to stammer, his voice a bewildered croak. "But... the sphinx... the enchantments... I even put a self-replicating ward on it!"

You tilted your head, your expression the picture of innocent inquiry. "Oh, that? I found a loophole in the ward's temporal displacement matrix. And the sphinx was quite reasonable, once I offered her a riddle about the migratory patterns of thunderclouds."

Hermes blinked, his brain clearly overheating. A faint blush began to color his cheeks, a mixture of embarrassment and something else... something that made his heart pound a little faster than usual.

"You... you outsmarted me," he said, the words slowly dawning on him. It was a statement, not a question, and it was laced with a strange combination of annoyance and awe.

You inclined your head in a gesture of acknowledgement. "It would appear so."

A slow grin spread across Hermes's face, replacing the stunned expression with something much more... mischievous. His eyes sparkled with renewed determination, and there was a definite glint of... dare we say, affection in them.

"Alright, Y/N," he said, his voice regaining its usual playful lilt, though with a slightly husky edge. "You win this round. But mark my words, this isn't over. I'm DEFINITELY going to get you back next time."

He took a step closer, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than strictly necessary. There was a warmth in his eyes, a spark of genuine admiration that transcended the usual competitive fire.

"In fact," he murmured, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "I've already got a few ideas brewing..."

He didn't elaborate, but the look on his face promised a challenge of epic proportions. And you, with a matching smirk, knew that you would be ready for him. After all, the thrill of the game was only half the fun. The other half was the undeniable pull you felt towards the infuriatingly charming, endlessly inventive, and surprisingly captivating messenger god.

“Alright, Hermes,” you challenged with a chuckle, “Let’s see what you have in mind.”

[peggyao3]

Relic - Pt. 2 "Eidolon"

PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Unnamed Ambiguous FMC

SUMMARY: ✧༺༻ Dreams are messages from the deep ༺༻✧ A woman from the unknown comes to Feyd in his dreams and his nights become his days as he flees to the dreamscape to escape the nightmares that haunt his waking hours.

TAGS: 18+, smut, she/her AFAB FMC, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, Porn with Plot, Feyd-Rautha's black cum, Feyd-Rautha's big cock, Praise Kink, Body Worship, angst/hurt and comfort, drama, fluff, Frank Herbert would frown, some politics, implied/referenced (child) abuse ❗, Trauma, mentions of suicidal thoughts ❗, Healing, Strangers to Lovers, falling in love, Vulnerable!Feyd, Emotional!Feyd, Possessive!Feyd, Feyd is a sweet baby who did nothing wrong and I WILL pamper him, nurture not nature, Stockholm Syndrome but in a consensual way, lucid dreaming, implied/referenced cannibalism ❗, implied/referenced murder

WORD COUNT: 2.5k

Reposted from my Ao3 💕| Masterlist under construction ⚠️| Relic Masterlist (12 Chapters)

Divider by @saradika-graphics

Tag list? Do let me know if u want me to tag u 👉👈

← Previous Chapter, Next Chapter →

Night 15

Midnight darkness caresses Feyd's shoulders as he pads to his dark bed, clad in full-coverage pajamas of loose, black fabric. He catches his silhouette in the wall mirror, glad to be spared the view of the new blemishes on his back and chest.

When he slips under the stiff covers of his bed, he is almost too excited to fall asleep. Excitement knots his stomach, so he forces his lungs to perform the breathing exercise that has always helped him since he was a child, channeling his focus only on his breathing, not whatever is happening to his body, the good and the bad.

The excitement helps him through the day, but he needs to relax his mind, relax his soul.

Is it working? When will he finally sleep?

The transition is seamless. He never realizes when he falls asleep and when the dream seeps into his mind like a blessing.

But then there she is, right in his arms where she belongs. They are reclined against the headboard of the large, white bed, their legs half buried under black covers. The fern rustles faintly in the terracotta pot and Feyd catches a glimpse of the two of them in the wall mirror. Immediately, his cheeks do this thing that makes them appear rounder and fuller and his teeth are on full display while his eyes are slitted. He is shirtless and there are no blemishes on his skin.

"Have you been here for long?" He asks, fingers tracing the softness of her upper arm.

"What?" She asks.

"What?" He replies and the same sense of could-be-should-be déjà-vu as always macerates the fabric of reality. She blinks at him and he leans down to kiss her on the lips. Her hand curls around the smooth back of his head, pulling him close as she opens her mouth and beckons him inside, so easily, so softly.

When they part, she whispers: "I don't know how long I've been here, but I missed you."

"I missed you," Feyd rumbles. She has absolutely no idea how much he missed her.

Gentle hands explore his face, touching places no one has ever touched, like his closed eyelids, the dip of his cupid's bow or the meandering shapes of the shell of his ear.

"How is this scientifically possible?" She raptly breathes and Feyd's eyes open back up from the blissful trance where only the caress of her hands can bring him.

"I still don't care." He smiles, leaning closer into the warm and comforting body that breathes against him.

"How can you not care? Shared, lucid dreams imply the existence of a connection between two organisms across space time, and since our interactions seem to be instantaneous, it's almost like we're quantum entangl- Feyd!" She squeaks when he rolls her on her back, pushing one leg between her thighs and his chest on top of hers.

She is so caught up in her wild chain of thoughts, that she completely forgets to hold him and that annoys Feyd greatly. "Don't you find that fascinating at all?" She asks.

"I have bigger concerns."

"Yes, like what?" She grins, cupping his face with gentle hands.

"Like the fact that you're not kissing me."

"Oh, you're so needy." She pecks him on the mouth, noting how his features soften and his lashes lower.

"I'm not." Feyd growls, pressing his mouth against hers softly while he wonders why he actually denies it. Their chests come flush in an intimate dance of bodies, bare, vulnerable skin stretching across bones and muscles.

These may be dreams and they are the dreamers, but she is real. Feyd could never make up a woman so kind without any reference.

Night 28

"How was your day?" Worry laces her voice and Feyd would like to be upset with her but, oh, he can't. She always looks at him with such concern, as if she expects him to drop dead any moment, or fall apart beneath her fingers.

"My day was better than usual," he reveals nonchalantly, scanning her face with challenging, blue eyes. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Something is up today, I can feel it."

"Nothing is up," he insists and delves for her throat where he intends to place kisses on the impossibly soft and delicate flesh, but she catches him by the chin (so smooth, not even a hint of stubble) and pouts.

"Don't lie to me, Feyd." She can read him so well, as if they've known each other forever.

Fine. "I killed my uncle's pet today." Oh, how good it felt to say that. The elation in his tone is impossible to hide.

"Feyd! Why?!" She lets go and flinches away from him and Feyd regrets his choice of words instantly. She however is more shocked by the fiendish grin with which he had admitted a murder than the actual words.

"If you saw iit and lived with it, you would understand why. You could say I put it out of its misery." He sits upright, mirroring her position. He should have just kept his mouth shut.

"Oh, so it was sick?" She hopefully asks and Feyd is seriously tempted to just lie to her to maintain that warmth that returns to her expression. She appears to be ashamed of misjudging him, but his answer can only disappoint her.

"It-, well, I should spare you the details."

"But now I want to know." She comes back to him and curls against his side, resting her head on his shoulder. She wants to know about his life.

"It was a monster. It would have scared you." And now it won't ever scare her. Feyd's arms slide around her waist and she leans into his embrace. His presence is so comforting, she thinks. She may not even care if he killed an animal.

"Was it dangerous?"

"It shouldn't have existed in the first place!" Feyd hesitates for a second and she feels the spike of his pulse against his jugular. "And it was my uncle's."

Aha, she thinks with alarm, fingers tracing patterns on his smooth, bare chest while she keeps her face hidden in his shoulder. "Tell me more about that pet." What she really wants to know is more about that uncle.

Feyd turns his head, catching her gaze which is only inches away and leans closer as if to whisper a foul secret to her. "It was Tleilaxu-fashioned." That word doesn't have the intended effect, which is a little annoying. She blinks at him without understanding - bless her innocence - so Feyd sees himself forced to elaborate. "I'm saying it was genetically engineered to be a monstrosity."

"Oh." She shrugs her shoulders like that is not at all shocking. His strange woman was shocked by his black cum but not a twitch of disgust decorates her features in the presence of breaking the laws of nature.

"It was fashioned only for my uncle's amusement, not because it should exist but because it could!" More anger swings in his tone now. "I've done it a favor."

When he was younger, he had asked himself many times if anyone would ever do him the favor, but he was too well-protected and now the idea has been banished into a dark, dark corner of his adult mind.

"So, your uncle has been… Mistreating his pet and you put it out of its misery?" Her fingers gently stroke his wrist.

"He's been treating it better than other things." Things, people, boys…

Feyd glances into the center of the room, looking right through everything, into the nothingness, not realizing how his grip tightens around her innocent flesh.

She sees it there in his eyes, the truth. She sees it in the tight set of his jaws, the sharp intake of breath, the terror buried beneath layers and layers of apathy. It could be anything, but her empathy has never lied to her. It's like she's always known.

"Oh Feyd," she says and wraps her hand around his. His every muscle becomes rigid and his head whips around. He can see that she knows. 

How can she know from just a glance? This witch! Feyd recoils, aghast that he gave away so much of himself so easily. It slipped out of his grasp like a snake left to flail on the ground and bite him in the ankles unless he stomps it dead. Should he kill her so she can't tell anyone his secret?

As he recoils and slides off the bed, she releases his wrist and Feyd's stomach cramps. Why did she let go of me? I repulse her now, I repulse myself. Everyone who knows would be repulsed and wouldn't want to touch me.

He backs off until he has maneuvered himself into a corner, shoulders drawn up, panting like the small boy who once ran down the corridors, chased by nothing but the sticky shadows of reality that follow him every waking hour. His woman hasn't followed him at all. She sits on the bed, looking at him sadly and with pity that overflows from her eyes and posture.

"I don't want your pity!" He barks, voice shaking. "You know nothing about me!" 

"I'm sorry," she squeaks, flinching, and Feyd wants to take it back, feeling awful for making her scared, but he can't, just like he can't take back the terrible truth.

"No…" Feyd weakly mutters, looking away, staring at the pattern of the floor until his vision turns grainy. Clenched fists yearn for his blade, but he's never had it in this dreamscape. Any target will suffice, a slave, a fighter, himself, his uncle… But not her.

"What can I do?"

"Can you get me out of here?" Feyd blurts out.

"Oh." Why does she sound so disappointed? "We've tried to wake up before, it's never worked, I don't know how to-" 

"That's not what I meant." Feyd's jaws grind and he stares so hard at the floor pattern that his brain starts seeing the shapes of snakes that slowly coil around what looks like his neck.

"Oh, Feyd. My poor-" 

"I don't know where that question came from!" Feyd snaps, interrupting her. Viciously, he shakes his head. His eyes sting with hot, wet tears because he's stared at the floor too long. How silly of him, a pathetic, dreaming boy, to think she could save him, when he can't even save himself. Giedi Prime's most fearsome warrior can't even-

Suddenly, a pair of arms wrap around him tightly and the crown of a head invites him to rest his chin upon it. Feyd's heart stops and he bites back the agonizing pressure in his throat with a choked sound.

"I'll stop if you don't want me to."

He hugs her back so fiercely that her poor ribs and spine must be aching, but she only hugs him back fiercer still, face buried in his chest, lips mouthing sweet nothings. After minutes, Feyd's grip grows weaker, his face on her head heavier and by the end of it, she is holding him.

Night 39

"Have you always dreamed?" Feyd innocently asks and she struggles to comprehend the question. 

She lies prone on her stomach, legs spread open and a pale, smooth body undulates on top of her, taut chest and tummy pressed against her back, pelvis grinding against her ass. His length slides in and out of her at an inefficient angle, every upwards arch of her hips being smothered by a downwards push of Feyd's.

"Every other night, y-yes, hah~" Once more she tries to raise her behind, but Feyd's rutting hips press her down. He could reach much deeper if he only let her move!

"And have you ever dreamed of other men?"

"Hnngg, ahh- I'm sure I have. Feyd!" Her cheeks blush hotly when Feyd slams himself to a stop, cock throbbing palpably against her walls as he holds himself there, nearly crushing her with his weight.

"What?" His voice is more growl than human and a shiver passes down her spine which is smothered by his smooth torso.

"But not like this! Oh, please, don't stop." She tries to grind her ass against his pelvis with little to no range of motion, but Feyd only slightly shifts his knees, tightening the cage he has created around her body.

"Do other men have you in your sleep?" Plush lips tickle the shell of her ear and his hot breath caresses her skin, eliciting a clench of her inner muscles around his unmoving, velvety length.

"I only dream of you," she whimpers, heart thrumming up a storm in her chest. To be craved so possessively almost feels forbidden. "And do you dream of other women?" 

"I only dream of you. I only think of you too," he rasps, hips snapping leisurely back to action massaging her inmost parts. Feyd expects her to repeat it after him but she doesn't, so he tightens his manacle around her shoulders, caging her torso with his arms. "Who do you sleep with when you're awake? Is there someone holding you while I fuck you in your sleep?" 

"No, there is no one!" She snarls, shuddering from the harsher pace that came with the last question.

"Are you lying?!" Tiny specks of spittle spray against her ear.

"I'm not lying!" She snaps. Why doesn't he believe her? "Feyd~" A pleading moan rolls past her lips, body squirming for freedom and release, rejoicing when the former is denied to her. Feyd's right arm crawls under the impossibly tight space between her body and the mattress, past her sweat-damp pubic mount.

The tender, little nub of her clit rewards him with a clench of her walls when his fingers trace deft circles, smothering her body and mind from all directions with possessive affection that would be too much if she didn't crave it so much. Her body adjusts so easily to the rough tempo and pressure builds with no way out, nowhere to go except over the top of her climax and crashing down in hard waves that squeeze his cock and make tears and drool roll down her face.

The orgasm takes her worries to the sky where they dissolve among the clouds and pelt down like harmless rain drops. What if the dreams suddenly stop, what if she will never see him again, what if something terrible happens to either of them in the real world? All meaningless words, jumbled into benign disarray as bliss takes a hold of her body.

Her face drops on Feyd's forearm which is the bars of the fleshly cage that shelters her and she moans open-mouthed against his skin as he still ruts into her from behind, chasing his own release. Why would she ever have anyone at day when she can have him at night?

 By a route obscure and lonely,     Haunted by ill angels only,     Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT,     On a black throne reigns upright,     I have reached these lands but newly     From an ultimate dim Thule –     From a wild weird clime that lieth, sublime,           Out of SPACE -- out of TIME. - Dream-Land by Edgar Allen Poe, 1844 

[Tag list: @nostalgichoya]

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Re: Lack of Raverne in Book 7's ending with all the memories of the people.

I noticed TWST does this thing sometimes where they purposefully won't bring up certain people in parts where they really should be brought up and talked about - or even if they are brought up, they're not really explained in depth - because those people will be revealed/introduced in full later. Case in point: Idia's parents. I remember when Book 6 rolled around, iirc Idia's parents were never mentioned in Idia and Ortho's backstory during the OB, and many fans thought they were neglectful because of it. But then Book 7 rolled around, their parents do get introduced and we see they're nothing but loving and supportive of both their sons, and they were among the MVP's of Book 7.

So perhaps the very noticeable lack of Malleus's father is supposed to be an implication that Raverne is alive, and that we will be seeing him, one way or another, eventually?

coughsinCrowleyisRavernetheory

In all seriousness, that being said, I very much agree with what you said. It's one thing for the game to purposefully not show somebody at a certain time - it's another thing for the game to do so in a situation where not showing them is a plot hole of sorts. Why wouldn't Raverne be where his wife was?? Was he just never in Wild Rose Castle?? I don't think someone has to be dead in order for them to appear as a memory??

[You can read my thoughts on the book 7 finale here!]

The Shroud parents may not have been present in Idia's post-OB flashback, but Idia does talk about them in book 6! It was a combination of their lack of presence in his backstory + the disparaging things Idia said about his parents ("they care more about getting results than their own son's feelings," or something to that effect) that led many fans--including myself--to think that maybe the Shroud parents were neglectful. Then the Shroud parents appear in book 7, and we see that even Mr. Shroud (who was previously described as cold and calculating) is loving, and both Shroud parents are accepting of Ortho. It can feel like a retcon to some people, but to others, this is easily explained by citing Idia's usually negative frame of mind and how that biases how he sees and presents others. I find myself split down the middle, personally. In any case, I don't think it's a good writing choice to just... not bring up people who really SHOULD be brought up. Should you not at least properly foreshadow now or at least remind us of that thread??? It doesn't read as clever to just not address it or even mention it at all, it comes off as shoving plot holes or other important details into the corner and ignoring it in favor of focusing on something else. This happened with the Shroud parents, and it happened with the end of book 7.

adlhbabyoryqe8foia IS THE CROWLEY = RAVERNE THEORY STILL... AROUND... I thought it would have calmed down a little by now, but it seems to still be going as strong as ever. (If this ends up being Real, then I'm of the opinion that Crowley could have had a brief aside or some ominous/telling line foreshadowing this at the end of book 7. Currently, we don't have anything like that.)

I've been thinking about it and thinking about it, and I STILL don't understand how that ending scene logistically worked out. Barring my confusion with how Lilia's UM worked (how are both humans and fae that resided in the castle at different points in time are having peaceful memories there??), why did Maleanor, the Dawn Knight, and Leah appear but not Raverne???? Nameless NPC soldiers showed up too, but not Raverne???? Doesn’t that imply that there is not a single memory associated with Raverne in Castle Wildrose that Lilia can summon OTL B-But surely he was there at least once, seeing as he's a diplomat? Literally described as “her highness Maleanor’s eyes, hands, and feet"???? And that's his WIFE???? Please make this make sense, because it doesn't no matter how much I try to wrap my mind around it 😭

[artficlly]

king of pentacles [one-shot]

Wild West Marvel AU

outlaw!bucky x fortune teller!reader when your travelling circus rolls into town, you are warned that bucky barnes is the outlaw who rules these lands. you plan to keep your distance, but he and his men can not resist a little entertainment.

Warnings: 18+ content minors dni, smut, fem reader, blowjobs, begging, p in v, cowgirl position, bit of teasing, soft sub bucky??, if you squint theres some plot, fortune telling, tarot cards, violence, choking, blood, mention of death, mention of torture, mention of beatings, implied previous non-con to reader (not from bucky), protective bucky barnes, smoking, no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 5.9k

A/N: i literally cannot even tell you where this idea came from. i had a vague thought about a travelling circus, tarot reading character. i wrote this out and edited it in like two days?? insane. i don't normally write smut so let me know your thots lol. if you enjoy western marvel aus, please check out some of my other works. i have a one-shot called 'me & the devil' and a mini-series called 'a dish served cold'! sorry for any typos - not proof read.

main masterlist

It was a windy autumn night when James Buchanan Barnes and his pack of vermin invaded Elkhorn’s Travelling Circus and Freakshow. 

There were scarcely few in the area who had not heard of Barnes and his gang of outlaws. From the moment your caravans had pulled across state lines, you had been warned not to cross Bucky Barnes or his dogs. The law did not concern itself with this place, a place so far west that civilization had been left behind. The memories of cities, people, and culture were a mere whisper on the winds, a fleck of sand in an endless desert. This place was ruled by barbarians, and Bucky Barnes was their king. 

You had heard stories of the fabled man. Some said he was the devil himself, that he sported horns and hooved feet. Others said his eyes were black as the night but reflected the light as if he were part beast. Those terrified people would recall his wrath and how his enemies were never afforded a simple, painless death. No, those who crossed the King suffered for their crimes. 

So when that twisted, cruel man of legend stood before you... You were surprised to find he was none of what he was rumoured to be. 

It had only been an hour since the nightly show had wrapped up, darkness falling quickly due to the colder months looming. The gang of outlaws had stormed your small campsite, locating your leader and employer, Duke Elkhorn, and demanding they be entertained! The candles had been lit, and the music was playing. The animals had been brought from their cages once more, and dancers and performers were laced back into costumes. Barnes had asked for entertainment, so you would provide it, lest you find yourself dead in a ditch. 

Thankfully, you had not yet taken off your own outfit and makeup. A kohl to line your eyes; your lips painted red; hair loose with intermitten beading and braids. You wore large jewled earrings and layers of necklaces that partially covered the deep v of your neckline. Your dress was tightly fitted, your breasts were pushed upwards by the corset beneath, and your skirt was a deep green that swirled around your legs with each movement. Your small tent was filled with a haze of incense, lavish velvet, and silk used as draperies. Your tent was divided into two sections—your working space and your personal quarters. You had been checking your appearance in your cracked mirror when the ruffle of fabric alerted you to his presence. 

He stood with an unquestionable air of confidence, a cigarette in hand. His eyes narrowed as he looked you over, a cruel smirk playing across his lips. He was large and burly, with muscular forearms that bulged against the fabric of his sleeves, which had been pushed up to gather at his elbows. Blood stained his collar and sleeves, and a gold pocket watch was tucked into his vest. His dark hair was windblown, bits peeking out from under his black, cattleman hat. 

As he flicked his cigarette, you realised his knuckles were bruised and split. A subtle splatter of blood across his cheek, smeared, as if somone had reached up and grasped his face in their dying moments. 

“Our mutual friend, Mr. Elkhorn, told me that if I was lookin’ for a pretty thing to come find ya.” His voice was deep when he spoke, gravelly and rough. It sent a shudder down your spine. Damn Elkhorn. You always knew he was a coward, even though he thought himself a big man. You and the other performers were not strangers to his temper and desperation. You all tended not to challenge it, as he could be a cruel man as equally as he could be fearful. 

“He weren’t lyin’ was he?” He lets out a low whistle, exhaling smoke. “How’s he kept you a secret for so long, huh? Guess mah boys don’t come pokin’ in the tents that often. Too busy pokin’ their bits into them dancer girls.”

You remain silent as he chuckles to himself. He eyes you greedily; his icy blue eyes are anything but discreet. You could feel how his gaze rested on the curves of your hips and breasts, watching how your skin moved with each breath. Desire was a strange thing—how easily you might shift from feeling confident and powerful to nothing at all. 

You certainly felt like a squirming idiot under his gaze. 

“I’m not a whore.” You speak up, though your voice is hushed, hesitant, or even uneasy. You knew men like Barnes would not take being denied well. If you thought Elkhorn’s brutality was something to fear, your knees would positively buckle before Barnes. 

Barnes barks out a laugh, his brows raising in something between delight and surprise. He strides towards you, grinning as you flinch back. “Yer employer seems to think differently.”

Your eyes slide closed as he reaches forward, a finger sweeping a strand of hair from your face to better look at you. You swallow hard as he chuckles, smoke blowing across your face. Teeth grit, you slowly open your eyes, a shuddering exhale leaving your nose as he runs a finger across your cheek.

“He’s a spineless excuse of a man.” You dare to bite back, your voice wavering, but you stand tall. His amused expression has morphed into one of intrigue. His actions falter; hesitation is clear in his demeanour. 

“He make ya do things ya don’t wanna do, darlin’?” The outlaw asks, his voice surprisingly genuine. He is still close to you, close enough that you can smell the tobacco on his breath and feel the vibration of each word in his chest. 

“Sometimes.” You admit, your eyes flickering up to meet his gaze. He curses under his breath, rubbing his jaw in annoyance. Barnes backs off a few paces, putting out his cigarette on one of your sidetables. From your side view of his chiselled face, you see a muscle in his jaw tense. 

“Well, sweetheart. I ain’t in the business of bein’ with women who don’t want it.” He says with a roll of his shoulders. He has stalked over to your reading table, bruised knuckles white as he grips the back of your chair. 

You are at a momentary loss for words. You had anticipated being repulsed by this man, the one who repeatedly terrorised these lands and enabled his dogs to do what they wanted and take what they pleased. There was something strangely endearing about his care for your consent. 

“Well, I am glad to hear it.” You finally uttered. “Can’t say the same for some of your boys, though.”

A tense silence washes over the tent, and you almost immediately regret your words. Against your better judgement, you creep towards him. He doesn’t flinch away from your touch as your hands smooth over the top of his hands and wrists. Beneath you, he feels like stone, each tendon and muscle expertly chiselled like the statues you saw in the big cities back east. 

“Yer right. Pack o’ wild mongrels they are. Good for puttin’ folk in their place. I think I’ll get ‘em to pay yer employer a little visit. Remind him whose land he’s on.” 

Barnes goes to leave, pulling away from your touch. A wave of horror washes over you at his implication. You find yourself reaching for him again in an unexpected panic. Your hands latch around his bare forearm, tugging him back an inch. 

“Wait.” You shake your head, gripping his forearm. The outlaw looks back at you in curiosity. 

“I ain’t gonna hurt anyone else, sweetheart. Just him. ” He drawls, eyes darting to where you hold his arm. You drop it immediately, backing off. Your cheeks burn in embarrassment. 

“He will think your lesson is because I turned you down or because I wasn’t good enough for you.” You explain desperately. His eyes narrow, as if offended on your behalf. “Whatever you do to him, he will do to me twofold. As punishment. He is a cruel man, you understand?”

“Yer definitely not pleading his case well, darlin’.” There is impatience in his tone and ire that you could not even begin to comprehend. Your eyes flicker to his bruised knuckles, the splatters of blood. If Elkhorn found out, well, you would have to wear a veil for the rest of your life. Your face would be so mishapened and destroyed that you would bring fear into the hearts of anyone who laid eyes upon you. You would no longer be a fortune teller but a featured freak of Elkhorn’s sideshow. Men and women alike would pull faces, with children throwing food and rocks. The deformed woman— another beast in a cage. 

You have seen this fate play out too many times. Too many were lost to Elkhorn’s wickedness. 

“Please.” You beg. His brow arches and his adams apple bobs. 

You swallow nervously, then hesitantly step forward. With gentle hands, you take his forearm once more, guiding him to your reading table. “Just… I will entertain you for a suitable time. I can read your cards. Then, you can tell Mr. Elkhorn that you laid with me; embellish it if you wish.”

Barnes seems too intrigued to protest. 

He unbuttons his vest with a soft grunt, taking a seat at the table. His legs are spread wide in a domineering pose as he leans back into the seat with cool confidence. As you take a seat at the opposite end of the table, he reaches into his vest pocket. 

“So, how does this work?” He asks. You can tell he is irritated from the way his brow twitches and jaw muscles are still tense. He is playing along for your benefit, you realise. He is looking to you for amusement to stop himself from marching out of the tent and dealing with Elkhorn as promised. 

“I will shuffle the cards, then draw three. Each card has meaning, and all together, it will tell you the message you need to hear.” You explain. Barnes had pulled out a pack of cigarettes, offering you one. You decline with a wave of your hands, instead taking the cards into your palm. He shrugs, lighting it with a half-interested sigh. 

As he inhaled and you shuffled, you noticed his interest lay closer to your exposed skin. Even if he had backed off per your request, it did not seem to stop him from undressing you with his eyes from the opposite side of the table. He seemed emnamoured by the layers of necklaces and how they clinked and rolled across your skin. 

As you shuffled, the first card fell out. His tongue darted out, wetting his bottom lip as he watched you work. You slid the escapee card onto the table, facedown on the red tablecloth. 

“Anything in particular that you want to hear, hm?” You ask. As you lift your gaze, you find Barnes enraptured by your movements, so much so that he has forgotten to take another drag. “Most people want to know about their careers… their families. Love.”

“I don’t believe in love.” He says, sucking in a breath. You tilt your head. He didn’t believe in love, no. He believed in lust. Desire. From the way his pupils were blown and his lips parted in awe, he was positively eating out of your hand. A second card falls. You slide it next to the first. 

“Business it is, then.” You breathe. The final card falls from the deck just as the words leave your lips. You put it in place, then place the stack of the remaining deck to the side. Barnes is transfixed as you lean your arms parallel to the table and tilt forward. “Flip one.”

“Does it matter which order?”

“No.”

With unwavering confidence, he reaches forward, flipping over the first in the row. Your gaze falls downward to view the card, a frown pulling at your lips. You examine the familiar figures on the card. Two figures stood on either side, naked and chained. Behind them, in the darkness, loomed a beast with claws, horns, and wings. The Devil. 

How fitting. 

Barnes seems to find it ironic as well, as he scoffs in disbelief. “Ya playin’ a trick on me?”

You look up at him. The tension in the small tent is as thick as the smoke that hangs in the air. “No. The cards tell the truth, if you want to hear it or not.”

You reach out, stroking a finger over the card.

“The figures, they are chained. They don’t want to be there, but if you look closely… their chains are loose. They could escape at any moment.” If Barnes had a snarky comment, he does not say. He hung on to your every word. “And the longer they remain, the longer they become more like the devil. He represents the darkness within them, their shadow selves. It is the evil within you—the short-term pleasures—to ignore the long-term pains. Instant gratification. Greed, violence. You think you have free will, but you have sold your soul to the devil.”

“Tell me somethin’ I don’t already know darlin,” The outlaw says with a chuckle. You notice that his shoulders have relaxed, a cool amusement embodying him. 

You hold his gaze. “Next card.”

His fingers brush yours as he flips over the centre card. The King of Pentacles. 

“The Devil and now the King? You’re spoilin’ me, sweetheart.” He chuckles. 

You eyed the card. The king sat upon his lavish throne, surrounded by wealth. You tap your nail across the yellow pentacle symbol, humming in thought. “King of Pentacles. It represents wealth and abundance. He has influence and is a skilled leader.”

Your head tilts. “It’s a warning.”

“A warnin’? Sounds like a good card to me.” 

“The king has all that he wants. An abundance of wealth. Everything he touches turns to gold, like King Midas.”

“King Midas?”

“It’s an old tale. One of caution. About a king who was blessed with the power to turn anything he touched into gold. His kingdom flourished with wealth, but he soon found himself to be unhappy. He could not eat, as any food that touched his lips turned to gold. He could not know the comforts of the flesh, for the women would also turn to gold. Everything he once cherished…gone. Then, one day he lost the one thing he loved most, his daughter. She kissed her father upon his forehead and instantly became a statue of gold.”

“I would be a far richer man if I were this…King Midas.”

“But don’t you see? You are him. You are a king who is flush with wealth; your influence is strong. Your people flourish. Everything you do and everything you touch becomes profit. But at what cost? How much more will you lose? How much more will you give up for greed?” You finger turns to point at the Devil card. His lips are set in a straight line as he scowls at you. 

“You best be careful now.” He warns. You shudder, leaning back in your seat, motioning for him to flip the final card. 

You stare down at the table, your breath held in horror. The figure in the card sits up in bed, hands to their face in anguish. Decorating the wall behind them are a row of swords, two of which could be seen to be piercing through the figure. Stabbed through the back. The frame of the bed is carved, illustrating two figures fighting. Nine of Swords. 

Your mouth feels dry as Barnes peers at you expectantly. “Well?”

You can’t find the words; your brows are scrunching as you try to find the best way to articulate the meaning without triggering the brooding outlaw’s wrath. Your finger taps on the table, and you clear your throat, squirming in your seat. 

“Nine of Swords.” You utter quietly. “The figure… they are troubled by their own thoughts. Their worries, speculations… so much so that they manifest it into reality.”

Your fingers trace over the fighting figures. “You worry of a rising conflict.”

You ghost over the swords next. A backstabbing. 

It was all very clear to you how it all intertwined. Barnes was a man possessed by evil and greed. He had sacrificed much to accumulate his wealth; like King Midas, he had all the gold he could need, but at what cost? His followers, his people—they were afraid. Weary of their cruel leader. A coup was in the works. Jealousy brewed within his men; all they knew was evil, so all they could give was violence in return. 

“A betrayal.” You breathe. Your eyes snap up to meet his. His pupils were no longer blown, instead replaced with an icy rage. 

“How do ya know this?” His voice had dropped, low and threatening. His cigarette was discarded, flecks of burning ash glowing across the floor. His shoulders were tensed, straining against the fabric as he began to loom over you, slowly standing from his seat. 

You shrunk back. “I don’t, I just read the cards—” 

You let out a shriek as Barnes gripped the table, flipping it in one solid motion. The cards fluttered to the ground around you, the glossy paper flickering in the low candle light. You recoiled in your seat, limbs trembling as Barnes stood over you. 

“Did Rumlow put you up to this, huh? I know what him and his little pack of vermin have been whisperin’.” He spat on the ground beside you, and you flinched back. Barnes reached down, gripping your throat as he forced you to look up at him. 

“I don’t know anythin’. I swear—” You begged, tears prickling at your eyes. 

Barnes scanned your face, then released you with a huff. You scrambled away, retreating to the furthest corner of the tent. Barnes waved his hand at you with a sigh, re-buttoning his vest and straightening his shirt. 

“I’ll give ya the benefit of the doubt, darlin’. But if I find out you’ve been lyin’...I’ll kill ya myself. Ya understand?” 

You nodded wordlessly, whimpering as the outlaw marched out of your tent without a glance back. 

—

“Where is she?” The enraged roar of Bucky Barnes sent a nauseating wave of panic through your body. 

A couple weeks had past, and Elkhorn’s Travelling Circus and Freakshow were wrapping up their stay. Duke Elkhorn wanted to push further west, bring entertainment to the drivers and rustlers of the far reaches of the country. Within two days, you were set to leave this awful place and flee the clutches of Barnes and his boys. 

Well, it seemed that had been hopeful thinking. 

You were in your tent, in your personal quarters. You had pulled shut the draperies to allow yourself privacy. The strong men, slick with oil and always sporting toothy grins, were always eager to deliver you water to bathe in. It had become a sort of ritualistic routine of yours to undress and wash the makeup from your face. After hours of sitting in a stuffy tent stinking of incense, it was a relief to wash the smell from your body. 

You wore a silk robe, loosely tied at the waist. It had been a gift from a patron back east—some rich city boy who had a fascination with you. When Barnes crashed through your draperies into the back of your tent, chest heaving with a livid look in his eye… you froze. You were perched on a stool before your cracked mirror, pulling a brush through your long locks of hair. 

You stumbled to your feet, stool knocked to the ground. 

Barnes was covered in blood, his shirt so drenched that it clung to his skin. His jaw was clenched tightly, and his teeth were bared in a growl. The blood was still fresh on his arms and neck, the liquid glinting in the candlelight. He had not bothered to wear his hat; instead, his hair was messy, with a splattering of blood across his cheek.

“I told ya I would kill ya myself.” The outlaw snarled. 

You backed away, back meeting the tent wall. “I didn’t do anythin—”

You were cut off as Barnes marched forward, large hands wrapping around your throat. He squeezed tightly, a breathless whimper escaping your mouth.

“How did ya know?” He demanded, his face twisted into a look of rage. 

You claw at the front of his shirt, sticky blood coating your palms as you struggle. 

“Ya knew about Rumlow. Ya warned me of a betrayal.” 

He releases the pressure on your throat, and you meekly gasp in air, nails digging into his shoulder as you try to keep your knees steady. 

“I didn’t know, I just said what the cards showed—” You rasp. Barnes doesn’t seem pleased by your answer, jaw muscle ticing. 

“I don’t believe in yer magical horseshit. I know it’s all tricks and acts. How did ya know?”

“The cards aren’t magical. Each card has a meaning that can be understood in different ways, it’s my job to apply them to whoever walks into my tent. The cards just reveal thoughts you have not quite spoken aloud—ideas at the back of your mind. They ask you to confront your inner self. You knew Rumlow was a traitor before the cards, you had a suspicion, but you did not act on it until prompted by the cards.” You wheezed out. The outlaw slowly releases your throat, his face controrting into something closer to frustration than rage. Your palms brace flat on his chest as you steady yourself against him. 

“Deep down, you already knew he was a traitor.” You reiterate. 

“You’re a fuckin’ witch.” He breathes, then runs a hand through his messy hair. Blood streaks across his forehead, clumping his strands of hair. His head tilts as he looks down at you. His face has relaxed, as if a silent clarity had overcome him. “Even if ya deny it… ya did warn me.”

You clear your throat, hand raising to your neck as you brush your fingers over the tender flesh where he had gripped you. “You warned yourself.”

He stares down at you, then frowns guiltily. “Apologies, darlin’. I shouldn’t have done that to ya.”

You believe him.

You hold your breath as his fingers briefly skim over your neck. His gaze falls deeper, his eyes following the curve of your breast that was half-exposed by your robe. The fabric was bunched into a deep v, leaving the swell of your breasts, sternum, and skin down to your belly button exposed. The outlaw sucks in a deep, shuddering breath, then stalks away with a frustrated growl. 

“Barnes—” you call to him softly.

“Bucky.” He corrects.

You catch a glance at yourself in the mirror. The silk robe hangs perfectly from your curves, blood smeared across your chest and neck. You suck in your own deep breath, sweeping your hair over your shoulders as you hesitantly approach the outlaw. He paced like the beasts Elkhorn kept caged up, endlessly forced to perform for cruel crowds. You knew what he needed. A delicate touch, a sweetness to lean on. 

“Speak to me.” You whisper to him, gentle hands guiding him to the edge of your bed. The canopy was draped with deep purple fabrics, furs, and blankets over the straw mattress. He silently obliges. 

“One of my boys, one I thought I could trust. He betrayed me. Thought he could make a little gang of his own and overthrow me from the inside.” The outlaw explains. His voice is stiff, and his posture is tense. You smooth a palm over his forearm, and your thigh presses against his as you sit closely together. 

There is a distant look in his eye as he stares past you at the wall of the tent. It shifts with the cool breeze outside, rising and falling like the night itself breathes. “I dealt with it.”

You cock your head to the side, hand running up his arm as you examine his face with a frown. “Dealt with it?” 

His eyes snap to yours, and your hand wavers in hesitation. There is a darkness in his eyes. His expression made goosebumps rise across your skin. You could only explain it as something primal, something caught between violence and arousal. 

“I made them pay.” He explains, his body twisting as he faces you fully. A bloodied hand raises, his thumb rubbing across your cheek as he cradles your face. “After two days, they begged me to end it. To end their lives.”

“And did you?” You dare to whisper back. His thumb traces inward, across your lower lip. 

“No.” He says simply. “I cut out their tongues so they could no longer beg. I made them pay.”

Your eyes must have been wide in shock because he chuckled, his hand sweeping through your hair. Then, with an uncharacteristic softness to his tone, he utters a question. “Can I kiss you?”

Your heart thunders in your ears, a short gasp leaving you as your lips part. In all your travels, you have heard stories of women who could make men fall in love with them with just their eyes. Women who used their bodies and seduced their way to the top. Even violent men like Bucky had one weakness—a woman who showed them kindness. A woman who could momentarily take control. The men would let their minds drift away; the burdens were lifted, if only for a night. 

Heat pools between your legs. You nod, a hand reaching to stroke across his jaw. The two of you meet in mutual desperation and touch once gentle, now needy. His tongue brushes against your lips, effortlessly parting them as he licks into your mouth. A moan escapes your throat at the taste of his tongue.

Your hands find the front of his shirt, blindly unbuttoning as he grips your hair in one hand. The outlaw groans as his hand slides across your shoulders, pushing away the robe. Your top half is exposed, nipples have hardened, and silk has pooled at your waist. 

As your tongues tangle, Bucky tilts his head to gain better access to your mouth. Your gasps meet his as he moans heavily into your mouth. His hands trace along your body, one squeezing your waist and hips, the other coming to grasp your breast. 

With a tug, you pull his shirt free. The two of you part, your head lulling back as he paints sloopy, feverish kisses down your neck. A groan rises in your throat as you lean into him, one hand gripping his dark hair and the other beginning to palm him through his pants. 

His kisses move further down, head dipping as he licks a stripe across your breast. He takes a nipple into his mouth, kissing and sucking as you gasp and lean into him. The space between your legs is throbbing; a wet neediness rising. 

You clutch his thigh, squirming with desire. The stubble along his jaw prickles your flesh, and a shudder runs down your spine. Your hands find his, easing his grip on your hips as you slide off the bed. Lowering yourself to the floor on your knees, you sit between his legs. Bucky lets out a groan as he looks down at you. His pupils are blown, and his lips are swollen and glossy. Your hands trace up his thighs, and your quick fingers relieve him of his belt. 

“Let me.” You hum to him. You tilt your head, your cheek brushing against his knee. His adams apple bobs as he swallows hard. “I can make you feel good.”

You can see his bulge under the fabric. He eagerly helps you pull his pants down, his cock springing free already fully hard. You press a kiss to the tip. His cock twitches in response and a low moan vibrates in his chest. You look up at him through your lashes, biting your lip. He leans back, looking at the tent roof, as his chest rises and falls with a loud, satisfied sigh. 

There was a power that resonated in your chest, seeing the outlaw so vulnerable under your touch. He did not protest your lead, instead eagerly following your command. You take him into your mouth slowly, one hand running up his thigh as the other wraps around his length. 

You bob your head, feeling him tense with pleasure beneath you. As you come up, you whisper to him quietly. “Relax.”

As your tongue swirls over his tip, then down his broad length, you feel his hips rock beneath you. His hand comes to fist your hair, subtly guiding you as you take him fully into your mouth once more. You follow his needs, taking notice of each pleasured twitch or motion in response to your touch. His fingers tangle in your long locks of hair, tugging as you pull unimaginable, explicit sounds from the outlaw. 

“Fuck—” He groans above you, his breath coming in short pants. You hum in response, relishing the sensation of him falling to pieces beneath you. The spot between your legs was slick, and wetness was beginning to drip down your inner thigh. There was a selfish urge within you that desired to reach down between your legs to gift yourself some friction. 

You swallowed him down deeper, flattening your tongue against his ridgid length. His hips started to jerk, stronger than the previous gentle rocking. You could feel him growing undone, his breath coming shorter, and his nails desperately digging into your scalp as he desperately tried to guide your head deeper and deeper. 

You obliged, but only as you felt his cock twitch once more did you pull away fully. Not yet. You weren’t finished with him yet. The outlaw let out a pained grumble. His hands caressed your shoulders as you rose to your feet. 

“Darlin’—” Bucky protests, but you shush him. 

“How much do you want me, hm?” You ask him. He has propped himself up onto his elbows to look up at you. His cock was still erect, glistening in the candlelight from your saliva. 

“I want you.” He affirms.

“How desperately? Would you get on your knees for me? Beg for me?” You say it breathlessly. You take one of his hands in yours, pressing a kiss to the palm. 

His breath stutters. “Yes.” 

“Go on then.” As the words leave your mouth, your eyes flicker upwards. You look at him through your lashes.

“Please, sweetheart—” He whines. You cock your head to the side, peppering more kisses along each fingertip. 

“Louder.” 

“Please.” He begs. You smirk down at him wickedly, shifting closer. Your palm meets his chest, pushing him back down onto the bed as his elbows buckle beneath him. 

“Lie back.” You instruct, helping guide his legs so he lies flat along the bed. In one fluid motion, you straddle his waist, his silk robe still pooling around your hips. You lean over him, taking one of the waist straps of your robe. With slow breaths, you move the soft fabric across his bloodied chest, tracing each vein and muscle before finally grazing it across his nipples. He shudders beneath you, his grip bruising where he grasps your hips. 

“Say it again.” You breathe. You are embarrassingly wet as you sit perched upon him. 

“Please. I need you.” He obeys, and another wave of arousal washes over you. Only now did you give in to your selfish desires, dead rolling back as you ground your hips slowly. Your lips parted, a small mewling moan leaving you as you clenched around nothing. You flatten a hand over his chest, allowing him to help guide you as you raise onto your knees. 

With one gentle movement, you lower yourself onto him. Your wet heat engulfs him, and the two of you groan in unison. You feel yourself stretch around him, and you moan as you allow your body to take him in completely. His hands tighten their hold on your waist. 

Bucky looks at you with a slightly slack-jawed expression. “Fuck, sweetheart. I think I’m gonna make ya my wife.”

You manage a smile through your own arousal, your hand gliding up and down his chest as you move your hips in a grinding motion. You gasp out a low, “Oh yeah?”

His head tips back with a moan as you clench around him. You experiment momentarily, brows drawn and biting your lip, until you find a grinding rhythm that ignites a fire within you. Bucky meets you halfway, helping guide you with his hands still gripping your hips. Your head lulls forward, small panting gasps leaving you as your eyes squeeze shut. 

“I’ll make you beg for that too…Fuck—” You whine, and Bucky chuckles beneath you. He continues to help direct your hips, and your thighs begin to shake as you lower and raise yourself. 

A strangled cry leaves you as Bucky’s hand lowers, his thumb circling your clit. Pleasure spikes up your spine, your knees wobbling as you nearly double over at the sensation. His fingers swirl with purpose, pulling all manner of illicit words and sounds from your throat. 

“You like that, sweetheart?” Bucky hummed.

Just as you feel like sobbing from the pleasure, you cock your head to the side. With a deep breath, you tug Bucky’s shoulders, pulling him upright to meet you. The two of you clash, breath hot. His arms wrap around you, pinning you to his chest as he kisses you with a primal hunger. You moan into his mouth, your tongue sloppily moving against his as he begins to thrust vigorously. 

You could feel your climax building steadily within you, the peak of a tumbling wave that had not yet crested. Bucky was a panting, sweaty mess beneath you. He greedily kissed and sucked along your neck, head dipping as he ran his tongue along your collarbone. 

Your own head fell, teeth grazing across his neck. He tastes like salt and copper. You nuzzled your nose against his jaw, taking his earlobe between your teeth. Deep within you, you felt his cock twitch. 

You wrap your arms over his shoulders, your fingers tugging at his hair. That pulled a groan from him, the noise vibrating across your skin. With a devious smile pressed against his cheek, you lean in close to his ear. Breath hot, you whisper into his ear. 

“Come for me.”

As if he had been waiting for those exact words, he explodes within you. The sensation tips you over the edge, a thundering in your ears defeans you as your eyes roll back into your head. You clench around Bucky tightly, your body milking every last drop of him as he lazily ruts the last of his energy into you. 

The two of you pant, catching a breath as you both come to a halt. The outlaw nuzzles your neck with a content sigh, then laughs against your sweaty skin. 

“I wasn’t jokin’ earlier.” He finally speaks up, his voice somewhat more dignified now that he wasn’t a moaning mess beneath you. 

“Hm?” You respond sleepily, too fucked-out to be bothered opening your eyes. 

“I’m gonna steal ya away from here. Make ya my goddamn wife.”

Against your better judgement, you believed him.

[marthawrites]

The Post-Flying Gift

Daemon Targaryen x Rhaenyra Targaryen x fem reader

Can be read as a one shot but reads best to pt 3 to "Whore, Pet, Lover"

Word count: 2.2k+

About: A rare fully sunny day beckons Daemon and Rhaenyra to fly their dragons above Dragonstone for hours. You are more than happy to watch them in flight. When they return, their dragonblood runs hot.

Includes: Continued slice of life plot, canon incest (this is canon Daemon and Rhaenyra), f/f, pet play undertones, dumbification understones, pussy eating, vaginal fingering, Daemon is stealthy, m/f, implied dick sucking, implied facefucking, aftercare

Note: Hello lovely reader! Apparently it's been nearly a year since I wrote "the gift that keeps giving". WILD. I definitely wanted to revisit this little mini series because my Daemyra brainrot is always real. As always, reader is non-descript. Please, enjoy! ♥

-

A warm sun glinted off Caraxes’ crimson body as he flew above the ocean of Blackwater Bay with Daemon at his reins. So red, and so swift was he against the blue sky, that he appeared to rend the sky with each passing by. Chasing and playing with the Blood-Wyrm was Rhaenyra upon the yellow-scaled Syrax who shone like burnished gold in the sunshine. They’d been flying at least two hours now–perhaps longer.

You had a perfect view of the Black Queen and her Prince Consort from where you stood upon their private balcony overlooking all of Dragonmount. Castle Dragonstone was as much your home now as your previous home had been. You were a birthday gift for the Queen. Deemed “the prettiest whore in all of Westeros” by Daemon Targareyn. A whore you were, then, and now, their little pet. They’ve never treated you badly. You’d never given them a reason to. Oftentimes in the sweet afterglow of your shared pleasures you daresay you are their lover: more than a whore and more than a pet.

Turning inside, you tidied their martial chambers and made sure to have clothes laid out for them for when they return from dragon riding. They both had special garb to fly in. Dragon smell was a very distinct thing, and in your experience even the most skilled servants had a hard time fully ridding the stink. A platter of herb roasted fish, tart berries, and salted root vegetables also sat awaiting their return. 

With a goblet of wine in hand, you returned to the balcony to watch them in flight. Scanning all over where your eyes could see–and double checking–you didn’t see, or hear, them anywhere. They might finally be done, you thought, and a smile twinkled up to your eyes.

A windswept Rhaenyra was the first to return. Silver strands of hair fell from her once neat braid giving her a wonderfully disheveled appearance. “Your Grace!” You said excitedly.

Rhaenyra grinned, beginning to take her leather riding gloves off. Her eyes were bright and wild. “Hello sweet love.” Flight had a way of elating her like none else could. Her riding garb was a mixture of wool and leather, both ash in color, and embellished with black dragonscales. Silver accents paled only in comparison to red gems highlighting the whole set up: coat, tunic, gloves, pants, boots. Aside from her rich Targaryen gowns, this was her favorite attire. “Did you enjoy watching my husband and I fly together?”

“Always! I could watch you both all day from the balcony.”

Matching Rhaenyra’s eyes, a wild smile took over the rest of her features; something dark and mischievous alike. A challenge and a dare. Proud and amused. “Out of all the gifts my husband has ever gotten me… you are my favorite. By far. My darling little pet,” she cooed as she opened the front of her coat and began unbuckling her belt. She sat in a chair and bent to work the lacings of her boots loose. Kicking them off, she sighed contentedly. “Mayhaps one day I will take you asaddle with me on Syrax. Would you like that?”

If watching your Queen begin to undress didn’t get your blood pumping, then her suggestion of flight surely did. “You mean it?” You asked, half dumbfounded by her proposal. “I would love nothing more!”

Her legs were bare, now, and she tossed her coat over to a nearby chair. The only thing she wore was her linen undershirt and smallclothes. She leaned back comfortably against the chair, legs outstretched and crossed at the ankle, and  she beckoned you over with one hand. “Come,” she said with a tilt of her head.

The sly little smirk upon her mouth had your belly doing flips as you walked to her. She was so lovely, and radiant, and tension sparked in the air between you two as you stepped between her legs. “Shall I redo your braid?” You asked softly, doing your best to keep your eagerness at a reasonable level. You really didn’t want to seem completely pathetic. Though, Rhaenerya knew how pathetic you could get for both her and Daemon; the glint of her expression told you she noted your anxious yearning.

Leaning up and forward, she gently cupped your face between her warm palms. With fluttering lids she pressed her lips to yours. Soft. Devious. “Not yet,” she whispered between sensuous kisses. “I don’t think that’s what you’re really interested in right now, is it?” 

Between Rhaenyra and Daemon, you didn’t know which one enjoyed making you blush more. She could see right through you. And, assumedly due to the thrill of flying, she wasn’t shy of putting you right on the spot. You shook your head and sighed blissfully against all of her kisses. You could kiss her until your lips were chapped and still kiss her more. “Not really…”

Her laugh was warm honey dripping down your spine. “I didn’t think so. Good girl for being honest about it.” Once again she leaned back against the chair as she looked at you with pride. But, the darkness of lust shadowed her features. “Flying is truly magnificent. It makes me feel… powerful. Invincible. And free.” As she spoke, one hand curled into your hair and began to gently urge you down. “It makes me feel good,” she added, raspy. “Be my good pet and keep making me feel good.”

Any thoughts you might have had going on in your brain were quickly shut down upon Rhaenyra’s request. You kept your eyes on her and shuddered with delight. You followed her downward push until you happily knelt right there in front of her–right between her parted legs. You pressed both hands up her thighs while planting kisses all along the smooth insides. “I love making you feel good,” you said to her, and she answered with a curl of her fingers inside your hair. You smiled; thoughts already dissipating from your brain.

“Such a pretty, sweet thing looking up at me like that,” Rhaenyra cooed approvingly. She shifted her hips slightly, just enough to make your ministrations easier.

The Black Queen smelled like a dragon. On anyone else you’d hate the sharpness of it. The stink. But on her? Somehow, it was perfect. Between the salty sea air on her skin, unclouded sun rays in her hair, and saddle leather where you knelt, she was the Dragon Queen. Tension rolled through your body until it left the buzz of excitement behind in each place it lingered. You were humming from the inside out. Purring. Rhaenyra’s pretty pet. Leaning down, you sat on all fours in front of her, now. You kissed her covered cunt where you knew her clit was.

The softest of a sigh left Rhaenyra’s mouth. “Tease me any longer and I’ll forbid you from watching us for the next fortnight,” she threatened.

“Yes, your Grace,” you simpered. Curling your fingers beneath the waist of her smallclothes, you pulled them fully down and off. Now there was nothing stopping you from what you both wanted. You repeated those same kisses over her pearl; each longer, softer, your lips parting more and more with each until you tasted her on your tongue. 

“There you are,” she rasped. Looking down at you she smirked triumphantly. She ran her fingers through your hair and said, “keep going. Keep making me feel good.” 

A whine broke from you and your tongue slid up through the fullness of Rhaenyra’s slit. When you saw how her head tipped back in bliss, your own head went brainless–focused now only on her pleasure. You lapped, and circled, and gently sucked, over and over again, your whole attention solely on her and her pleasure. Each of her whines, moans, and inhales of breath sent goosebumps pebbling atop your skin.

Make her feel good. Make her feel good. Make her feel good.

You loved the way she tasted. You loved the way she reacted to you. You loved the way she idly stroked through your hair, or pulled it, or held onto your ears. She was never shy in her passions, and neither were you. 

You lavished her clit until your jaw ached, but you never let it stop you. Rhaenyra’s sounds of pleasure were coming quicker now, sharper, and you knew she was getting close. It was then you delicately slipped a finger into her and began to work her from the inside, too.

“More,” she half stammered.

You added a second and moaned against her. It was only then that you realized how wet you were. How utterly soaked and needy your own cunt was. It clenched around nothing, your bud practically throbbing, your thighs pressing together to give you some minor relief from the pent up tension knotting in your belly. Yet never once did your own hand wander to that incredibly yearning space between your thighs. Your eyes were rolled closed. Only Rhaenyra’s building climax mattered. 

More. More. More.

She shuddered when she came undone around your fingers and upon your mouth. Her orgasm was sweet against your tongue; you dripped with self-satisfaction. It continued to roll through her in waves until the aftershocks had her panting softly. But, even still, you gently licked over all of her. Not enough to overstimulate her, but enough to keep her peak going as long as it could. You moaned softly all throughout; purring.

So lost in bliss, and so focused on your Queen, you hadn’t noticed anything else. You didn’t hear the door open or close. Never did you hear the soft scruff of leather on stone. Nor did you take note of a presence behind you. It was only when you felt fingers pressing into you that you paused to think. Those weren’t your fingers. No. They were too big and felt entirely different than your own. You gasped; desperate. Looking over your shoulder you nearly crumbled.

“Valzȳrys” husband, Rhaenyra whispered with half-lidded eyes.

“Ābrazȳrys” wife, he answered. “You two are having all the fun. Have you any idea how fucking wet your little pet is right now?” As if to make a point, Daemon worked his fingers just right to make you squelch. It was borderline obscene.

Your face was hot and for a moment you thought you’d come right then and there. Your spine dipped lower, presenting yourself to him as he knelt behind you.

“Oh… and how pretty she moans.” Daemon crooned, easily sliding two fingers in and out of you at the most devastatingly wonderful pace. “Did she make you feel good?” He asked Rhaenyra, continuing to finger fuck you from behind.

Rhaenyra grinned wide and smiled breathlessly. “Very.”

“That's our girl.”

You shamelessly pushed back against his hand. You were so slick he could have easily slipped a third in. Despite how well you did, however, you didn’t want to seem greedy, and so you took all that you could from those two fingers. 

“Shall I let her come, or do you wish to see her tears first, my Queen?” 

Dread dropped in your stomach because you knew exactly what he meant by that. Rhaenyra fucking loved to watch Daemon edge you until you were crying and begging for release. It was one of the darker games they liked to play with you. If at any time you wanted the game to stop–everyone knew–all you had to do was ask. Yet, never once had you brought the edging to an early end. As much as you hated it, you also fucking loved it. And so did Daemon. 

Rhaenyra shook her head, still basking in the afterglow of climax. “She did extremely well today. Let her come as she pleases.”

That’s all Daemon needed to hear. He indeed pressed a third into you and gave you exactly what he knew you liked. The tension in your belly sunk deeper, and wound tighter, and had you blabbering near gibberish until it snapped. Liquid warmth filled all of your limbs. Storm static clung to each of your nerves. Your pulse pounded in your fingertips. The force of your peak had you collapse forward until your cheek lay flat on the rug-covered stone floor. You panted, dizzy. 

Daemon gave your backside an approving smack. “A very good girl.”

You smiled softly at both of them relishing in the adoration they had for you, and you had for them. Leaning back up, you gently laid in Rhaenyra’s lap and allowed your eyes to close for a few moments. It wasn’t until Daemon called you that you woke. How long had you dozed off?

“Hm?” You asked.

“Crawl to me,” he said from where he sat in a chair, nude from the waist down with his doublet open. He was already hard.

You didn’t have to be asked twice.

You crawled to him and knelt between his thighs, looking up at him sweetly, obediently.

“Now it’s your Queen’s turn to watch. You know how much she likes watching. I don’t have to edge you to make tears fall from those pretty lashes, hm?”

Shaking your head with a tiny smirk, you knew exactly what he meant. With the sweetness of Rhaenyra’s climax still on your tongue, you took the Rogue Prince deep into your throat. You let him fuck your mouth how he wanted to until tears and saliva smeared your face, and and his seed overwhelmed the taste of your Queen.

It was in the sweet afterglow of these pleasures, where you all laughed, drank wine, and shared meals, that you truly felt like their lover.

-

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow, and/or reblog, and/or letting me know as it all makes me vvvery happy! ♥

I am redoing my taglist! If you wish to be tagged in any of the fics I write and share (main, aemond, daemon, rhaenyra, harwin, daemyra) PLEASE let me know! Thank you! ♥

Masterlist

[wannab-urs]

Pedro Pascal Character Fic Recs | Vol 42

AO3 | Kofi | Main Masterlist | The Spreadsheet Masterlist

Howdy Folks,

guess who's back! I don't know if I'm back to doing these consistently, but I have a hell of a list for y'all. Tags and summaries provided by the author, commentary provided by yours truly.

Mindfuck - Dave one shot by @whatsnewalycat

He said he could rattle the bees from your buzzing honeycomb brain. All you had to do was trust him with this power. So you did. And you do. Your valiant beekeeper meets you at this hotel every other Tuesday night, except on holidays.

Hypnotism, hypnosis-kink, Imperfect Praxis of Hypnosis, Humiliation, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Praise Kink, Smut, unprotected piv, D/s dynamic, Dom Dave, Mindfuck

One of the weirdest things I've ever read, but also one of the best. I was super into this. Mindfucking is WILD.... I'd read more of this universe in a heartbeat

Bittersweet Love - Dieter one shot by @ozarkthedog

Dieter is in recovery from drug addiction, the disease that cost him you. This is his first premiere after getting clean and his first one without you.

angst but with a happy ending! mentions of drug use and alcohol but nothing graphic.

This is such a sweet fic? That might be a weird way to describe it. I just love Dieter getting his shit together and all the good coming his way because of it.

Starlet - Dieter one shot by @whocaresstillthelouvre

Your husband has a big movie premiere, sure he looks great, but his co-star looks even better.

PWP, threesome, smut, fingering, oral (f receiving), lesbian fun, unprotected p in v sex, cum eating, addiction talk, sober Dieter, Kit Kats, I wrote this for the bi girls.

This fic is a dream, seriously. I want a hot movie star husband to bring pretty movie star women into my bed please and thank you.

Pas de Deux - Din series by @burntheedges

When Din Djarin – principal dancer at Concordia Ballet Company and generational talent in the classical style – suddenly left CBC and joined the Nevarro Ballet Theater mid-season, it shocked the ballet world. You never would have guessed that he would change your life, too.

modern AU, ballet AU, fluff, angst, flirting, dancing, lots of ballet terms (I’ll define things/link videos/etc. -- see below), misunderstandings, character study, romance, pet names (sweetheart, beautiful), lots of tension, later: smut, kissing, grinding, fingering, p-in-v sex, creampie, each chapter will have its own tags, Din lifts reader (see note below about reader)

This is one of the few modern Din AUs I've read, as I tend not to like them, but I can't recommend this enough. I was drawn in by the summary and hooked by the first chapter!

Never Let Me Go - Ezra one shot by @yopossum

Loving, reverent domestic smut with sweet, submissive Ezra.

SMUT; no plot that’s it just porn but with FEELINGS; sub!Ezra; established relationship; super duper in love; domestic fluff; comfort; gratuitous pet names; praise kink; body worship; body hair; grinding; breast and nipple play; teasing/edging if you squint; light bondage; riding; PIV; no condom (there’s come y’all); religious language and imagery as literary device; Ezra the human thesaurus; prose gettin purple; making grown men whine and cry; reader is not gendered, has breasts and a vulva/vagina, is described as having puffed nipples and dimpled thighs, can straddle Ezra, but no coloring, size, appearance, age, or ability is otherwise noted; Ezra is an amputee and healed and we love it (no gore or trauma or background re: his arm); but I did write this because I was watching Prospect without actually watching and was inspired by *~*those sounds*~* out of context tho; Beatrice is not reader’s name, just a nerdy Dante reference; I stole this title from Florence Welch; old person on tumblr; is this spacing wack?; not a beta in sight; 18+ only no minors

SUBMISSIVE EZRA!!! I loved this. Such a gorgeous fic.

Stick Buddies - Frankie series by @auteurdelabre

You and Frankie find yourselves in a complicated situation when invited to Benny's wedding for a week in Mexico. Despite your strained friendship, you both pretend to be a couple to save Frankie embarrassment when seeing his recently engaged ex wife. However as you navigate through this charade, old feelings and unresolved issues resurface.

friends to enemies, angst, fake relationship, bickering, there's only one bed, destination weddings, enemies to lovers, jealousy, idiots in love, revealed secrets, mutual pining, smut, HEA, so many fucking tropes.

friends to enemies to lovers??? Sign me the fuck up.

Where You Left Me - Frankie one shot by @chaotic-mystery

You meet Frankie for a date and reminisce about your relationship.

MAJOR character death. No movie AU but fuck Tom. This is overall angst heavy and please take care of yourself. Grief & loss, sadness, memories, I think that’s it? It’s just overall a bittersweet and tragically lovesick story. There’s no physical descriptions of reader other than wearing a black dress at one point and having hair that tickles Frankie’s nose. no y/n used

This shit made me cry in the best way. Please read this.

One of Your Girls - Frankie one shot by @pedropeach

unpacking some of frankie's old things leads to a revelation about his past. (OR to put it simply: frankie morales x triple frontier boys circle jerk)

Circle Jerk, Sub!Frankie, Bukkake, Facials, Cumplay, Cum Swallowing, frankie is literally a cum dumpster (and loves it), Praise Kink, Pet Names, Dirty Talk, oral (m receiving), Deepthroating, Cock Worship, Use of restraints, Sexy Photographs, Sharing, brief mentions of anal sex (m/m), for story purposes you are frankie's current gf, frankie x all the guys individually, this includes tom but he's not part of the circle jerk, sry tom

Really was not expecting this to be as tender and soft and sweet as it is considering it's one of the more filthy things I've ever read. Absolutely love it.

I'll Carry You - Javi P series by @almostfoxglove

You reunite with your childhood best friend when he arrives home from Colombia. Javier's sudden return to your life exhumes buried heartbreak, but he longs to set things right.

Eventual smut. Reference to canon-typical violence, injury, and the death of a parent. Plenty of alcohol consumption, yearning, and angst. YEARNING!!!

The yearning is exquisite. The fic is exquisite. I'm in love with this fic

Remorse for Remedy - Joel series by @pedgito

Alone, the Miller's brothers seem like your only hope. The outbreak is still fresh, weeks after the fall and all that matters is survival and the unlikely comfort that comes along with a man who wants nothing to do with you.

early outbreak, canon typical violence, morally grey!joel, smut (warnings given with each chapters), exploration of kinks, enemies to lovers, age gap (early 20s/mid 30s), unhealthy coping mechanisms, detailed warning with each chapter

I haven't ever read a series about Joel immediately post outbreak, which is wild. It's always raider!joel or qz!joel or jackson!joel. I love this new perspective and I'm so excited to read more.

Biology - Joel one shot by @endlessthxxghts

Joel hurt his back at work, so you've been helping him around the house until he heals.

able-bodied, female sex anatomy, and inherently fem!reader. No description of reader, everything is neutral (ex. “your bottoms,” “the curve of you” — nothing is specific in the way “you” are described). Age gap (reader early 20s, Joel in 50s). EXPLICIT MATERIAL PRESENT. HEED THE WARNINGS. WEIRD boundaries are crossed…you're not blood-related to Joel, but you were raised like you were. You call him “uncle.” Pet names (baby, darlin’, sweetheart, etc.). Pussy pronouns (she). Innocent touches until it isn't. Sexual tension galore. Slight dub-con. Icky Joel. Icky reader. Pussy grinding. Dirty talk. Slight degradation (“bitch” is used only once). Multiple orgasms. P in V unprotected. Reader is on top. Lots of teasing about the nature of yours and Joel’s relationship.

Well slap me silly and call me an uncle fucker because this fic was amazing. (they're not really related don't. look. at. ME.)

The Savage and the Sanctuary - Joel series by @justagalwhowrites

After the death of his daughter, Joel Miller fell apart. But when searching for answers at the bottom of a bottle and within his own rage doesn't fix it, he resigns himself to working for his brother in private security. It's a job that starts him down the path to stability and a semblance of a life, even if it's not one he particularly wants. At least it does until you show up. The biggest movie star in the world with your newly adopted niece in tow, you throw everything about Joel's life into flux. Is he capable of letting himself feel something again while protecting the only things left in the world that matter?

Protective Joel, Ellie & Joel Bonding, Joel is Bad at Feelings, POV Joel, Joel Needs a Hug, Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak, Enemies to Lovers, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn

So pumped for a new Kit fic. Super into bodyguard Joel. The angst right out the gate is so beautifully painful, I just know I'm gonna cry once a chapter at least. (i've only read one chapter, so I have some catching up to do!)

Professor's Pet - Joel one shot by @chaotic-mystery

Professor Miller wants you to teach the class tomorrow morning & you need help being less nervous. What if he’s the reason you’re nervous, though?

Age gap but not specified, power imbalance (professor x TA, reader stutters when nervous, academic weapon, teasing, fingering, one (1) pair of panties ripped to shreds, oral (f receiving), spitting, pussy slaps, praise kink, name calling (good girl, sweetheart, baby, smart girl), dirty talk, talking you through it, spanking, condescending a little bit, cum eating, face riding, nasty freaky kisses to share your cum, no use of y/n

I cannot begin to explain how hot him helping her practice is. And then the smut.... I need a shower

Call It What It Is - Joel one shot by @joelsgreys

A disagreement over patrol duty leads to declarations that have been long overdue.

JACKSON ERA JOEL. established relationship. HEFTY AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and joel is 56). ellie and joel are fine bc i said so and they deserve nothing less. reader handles a rifle, joel’s a little too overprotective and almost seems controlling, but i promise he is not. well, maybe just a smidge. arguing, admission of feelings, joel miller says i love you (yes this is ooc, no i do not care bc i need this old man to tell me he loves me). angst, fluff. quite a bit of side character interaction before we get to joel and reader in the second half. the only physical description of reader is that she is shorter than joel.

We love overprotective Joel in this house

The Guard Dog - Pero Tovar one shot by @avastrasposts

Sent to your uncle's bleak castle in the north of England, you expect only a dreary existence until you meet his groundskeeper, a scarred, frightening Spaniard. But love in the Victorian era is not easy and life doesn't follow straight paths.

this is mainly all fluff with a bit of angst. Some of that casual racism and predjudice of the period rears its ugly head though. I've tried to keep the reader as blank as possible, but it's Victorian England and she's a lady so I have to presume she doesn't speak Spanish and has fair skin. No use of y/n.

This was so beautiful. I love the setting, I love the characterization, I love the story

Bloody Kisses - Tim Rockford/Dio series by @perotovar

shane has been in denial about himself for a while. newly single and with the help of one of his favorite singers, he opens his eyes to a new venture he could possibly take: the cop he sees on a semi-regular basis, detective tim rockford.

takes place in the early 00s, age gap (shane is 23, tim is 40), internalized homophobia, hurtful names (fairy boy, faggot, queer as a slur, etc), a gay porn magazine, lots of references to peter steele of type o negative (and his playgirl issue), male masturbation, acab, angst, protected p in a, fingering, excessive amounts of lube

I started reading this a while ago, but I never added it to the spreadsheet. I'm in love with how soft Tim is with Dio UgH

In the shadows of others, we grow - Tim Rockford/Dave York series by @sin-djarin

What happens when you put two different areas of law enforcement in the same room a few times a year to atone for their 'sins'? You find common ground and figure it out. Together.

M/M, Established D/s dynamics, each chapter contains individual warnings.

This pairing?? Obsessed. The feelings?!?!? Give me 14 more fics in this universe PLEASE

An End to Drought - Javi P one shot by @almostfoxglove

The future of your family's homestead hangs in the balance as Javier Peña comes home in the middle of a drought.

Javier Peña Smut, Soft Javier Peña, Sweet Javier Peña, Javier Peña Has a Big Dick, Smut, Fluff and Smut, Fluff, Neighbors,Javier might be a god? who knows!, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Penis In Vagina Sex, Oral Sex, Creampie, Sex, Vaginal Sex, unprotected piv, Freyr, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Post Season 3

I'm obsessed with the way the challenge was interpreted. Is Javi a god? We don't know... but he sure fucks like one.

Some shit I wrote:

Make it Hurt - Logan Howlett x f!mutant!reader - sparring + pain kink

Morning Ride - Logan Howlett x f!reader - soft morning sex

You're So Dark - Dave York x f!reader - prof!Dave x student!Reader

[anghraine]

ngl I always find it wild to see Star Wars stuff that's like "if you think about it in terms of realistic statistics/science then..." about almost any aspect of it.

I mean, what about the Star Wars films gives the impression that this universe abides by realistic statistics, or realistic anything else? SW is broadly a fantasy epic projected onto an IMAX screen with a space background painted on it. Yeah, the planets and moons in the films almost always have improbably limited biomes and two major locations max, because narratively these locations are usually just fantasy city-states with space aesthetics.

Starships travel at the speed of plot and we simply jump past the amount of time that presumably is passing, and sort of imply the passage of that time through shifts in the character dynamics. But this passage of time cannot be analyzed with any kind of consistency because the only logic governing it is the pace of the story.

Just how long did it take the Empire to send a full contingent of forces to Dantooine, search the entire planet, find the Rebel base, and then report back to Tarkin between one scene and another? No one says and no one appears to care. How long did it take Han and Leia to reach Bespin and what exactly went on between them while Luke was, in the same time frame, going through a protracted training over multiple days at an absolute minimum? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

How do giant space worms survive inside asteroids that somehow have an Earth-approximate gravitational field and I guess an atmosphere? Shhhh don't think about it. The point of the sequence is not "how does the giant space worm subsist off this random asteroid and how does it breathe and how does gravity work in this context, seriously" but that the giant worm sequence is fucking sick.

There's probably some after the fact EU justification invented by people who had nothing to do with the original writing of the space worm (or perhaps there are several mutually incompatible explanations) and I am profoundly disinterested in them. Nothing could make this even slightly realistic and it was never intended to be. Star Wars sings space shanties at scientific/mathematical realism as it sails past on a completely different ship going in the exact opposite direction.

And I do mean "sails" because while astronomy might tell us that space is unfamiliar and wild on a level we as Earthbound lifeforms can barely comprehend, Star Wars understands that space is basically an ocean, yet with stars and cool but survivable planets in it, or sometimes it's air but combined with a super cool space background so you can have early 20th century aerial combat that would make no sense in actual space conditions and doesn't need to.

"If you consider relativity, then just running the Empire would be..." General relativity does not govern the galaxy far, far away. Space magic does. I'm not sure there are even time zones.

[yanderes-galore]

Could you make Yandere Zoroark(Pet-Like)?

Oh I actually have some good ideas for this... I'll try to make this unlike the other Overprotective Pokemon concepts.

Overprotective! Zoroark Concept

Pairing: Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation/Deception, Overprotective behavior/Possessive behavior, Violence, Stalking, Kidnapping, Blood mention, Murder implied, Dubious/Forced companionship.

A Zoroark is one of the more intimidating Pokemon to have fixated on you, not just due to the Dark Type either.

Zoroarks are masters of illusions.

They hide their homes with illusions and can even disguise themselves as humans.

Which is why I believe a wild Zoroark could be just as attached to you as a caught one.

For this concept I'll focus on a wild Zoroark for plot.

Imagine a wild Zoroark managing to perfect their illusions.

Since they were a Zorua they pretended to be a human to befriend humans.

Now a Zoroark, they've managed to master human speech in their illusions.

Perhaps by chance you meet this Pokemon.

You befriend them, thinking they're merely another human.

The Zoroark is simply happy to find a human friend.

Who knows, maybe you even met them as a Zorua and never knew.

Either way, this Zoroark begins to grow protective of their human companion.

Perhaps they show up as a male human to you, maybe a female human.

Either way they pick the perfect appearance for their illusion form to stay close to you.

Poor you has no clue your friend isn't human...

Your friend's a wild beast... an untamed Pokemon who seems oddly attached.

The Zoroark even tries their best to blend in, learning human customs and various activities you enjoy.

They never tell you where they live, always claiming they're "uncomfortable" with the topic.

In reality they live in a hidden den deep in the forest.

There's little hints that your friend isn't who they say they are.

Things like them running off after being hurt, or them not knowing certain information.

For example... how to drive, currency, etc.

They try their best to excuse it as them being very isolated when growing up.

So as an adult... they struggle more.

But you'll help them, no?

The Zoroark is possessive of you due to still being a wild Pokemon.

They see you as their pack member, someone they have to protect.

Please don't question things when people go missing....

The Zoroark is willing to get blood on their claws if it means they keep their human.

Disappearances aren't the only issue, they also tend to stalk you.

Then later on they make plans to take you into their den.

After all... you trust them!

So when your friend says they finally want to show you their home in the woods... and you follow...

You aren't prepared for the Zoroark showing their true form.

They won't hurt you, but it's about time you saw their home.

Now they can care for you properly....

You've always wanted to visit, haven't you?

Well, now you can!

You never have to leave, either....

[fictionfixations]

bridon arc ep 3 reaction

...did anyone see the ep 4 preview im going to scream

my reaction is significantly less like coherent compared to the others i fhdsuifhsu i was like 'im gonna scream at you in all caps what happened when i come back in half an hour' to my friend so now here.

IT ENDS THERE?? wRHAST/a? WHAT HTE UFCK WHAT THE FUCK WAHDIUAHJ!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!? okay ij i jneed a moemtn to rpocessjiofjsfjsfsf there tehre re hte re WILD of them to start off with a nightmare scene but to be fair the frist episoed started with xiaoshi dying so like idk man lmfao lmao a little girl walked up to lu guang and said mommy look its a kitty bc lu guang was wearing a cat ear hat also what the fuck vein is owner of a modeling agency?!?#EJ@IQJE!?!?! ALSO WHAT THE FUCK I CANT BELIEVE VEIN APPEARS, LU GUANG IS IN SHOCK oR SOME SHIT IDFK MAN HES HAVING A BAD TIME REMEMBERING BCVEIN KILLED XIAOSHI LAST TIMELINE AND HTEN IT ENED THERe WHAt ALSO NO END CREDIT SCENE?? im so fuckngiwshfusehfudjifksf also we got blush face on xiaoshi and lu guang and xia fei(? ithink thats his name i forgor) cause they were drunk but also WHAT THE FUCK XIAOSHI CALLED XIA FEI A HOTTIE😭(i get it cause xia fei is a model so no duh hes attractive but PLEASE NOT IN FRONT OF LU GUANG💀) lu guang looking so jealous like xiaoshi pay attention to your bf 😭💀 also there was chinese text at the beginning but there was no translation given and i cant read hchinese so i have no idea what the fuck it says but im stressed also not someone going lu guang getting jumpscared by ronald mcdonald💀💀💀bruh saw red hair and immediately got scared like to be fair i would too cause a redhaired man killed xiaoshi but like 😭 also wtf theyre getting chased after because these guys r salty that the team they were cheering on lost while the team xiaoshi lu guang dna xia fei were chjeering on won ?? ???????????????????

like jesus fuck why are you throwing wine bottles (WHO LET YOU KEEP THOSE WINE BOTTLES WTF) and also WHY DO YOU HAVE A BAT

a part of me wants to root for them but also theyre fucking cornered and vein is RIGHT THERE 😭 but them dying at the end would imply theres a time where they DID survive and then its like so how did they survive? so they. should. survive.

but also the endings of the seasons have always been plot twist-y with shock and im fjsofj we still dont know how xiaoshis dad is related to all this😭

im so stressed like logically stuff changes when time travel but lu guang is seeing these changes and stressing and IM stressing because its like what the fuck what the fuck

also yippee xiaoshi saving lu guang from trouble again by grabbing him and pulling him back from getting hit by a fucking bat WHY DOES THAT DUDE HAVE A BAT IM ASSUMING HE GOT DURNK BUT WHY DOES HE HAVE IT AND WHY IS HE SWINGING BECAUSE THE TEAM HE WAS CHEERING ON LOST IM SO CONFUSED

3 more episodes.. how the fuck does it conclude in that time what the fuck also im scared for season 3, its been confirmed to be in the works so like what the fuck is gonna happen there later too continuing off s2 ??? but also bridon arc has me in a fucking chokehold im😭 ALSL FUCK I FORGOT XIAOSHI GOT HIS PHONE STOLEN AND THEY RAN INTO LIU XIAO AND IIM JFUS(CSICHEUFHUIFSHEUIFHSEIFSSEHJFS AND LIU XIAO WANTS TO FIND XIAOSHI??? SOMETHING SOMETHING WITH HIS DAD???? AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA HE GAVE THEM HIS CARD DOES LU GUANG KNOW HES EVIL???????

LIU XIAO WAS LIKE I CAN GIVE YOU A RIDE (WHICH IS ALSO HOW EMMA OF S1 EP1 DIED BTW) AND LU GUANG INTERRUPTED LIKE XIAOSHI WE HAVE PLANS

BUT LIKE WHAT THE FUCK WOULD HAPPEN IF THEY DID

im

😭😭😭😭???

[elendsessor]

WILDS SPOILERS BELOW!!!

aka discussing the post game story and the botched return of gore magala

being very nitpicky but there’s something very off about gore magala + the frenzy in wilds and after thinking about it more i feel like i narrowed it down

it’s a real shame too because i absolutely love the fairly revamped fight!!! tempered especially is way more unpredictable. the introduction cutscene was hype as hell and i adore how the horror of frenzy is depicted, since in 4/4u it was fairly tame in cutscenes outside of one instance. (maybe two but it’s kinda an indirect result? seeing ioprey cannibalize the iodrome was sick but they weren’t infected, the zinogre they were fighting was.) i always can’t wait to see gore, but there’s definitely a right and wrong way to bring back a monster.

so uh me being ranty time

-this was an issue in risebreak too but the new art direction the series took toned down how shagaru looks and that extended to gore when parts are broken. shagaru is meant to be angelic—pretty much an angel of death or akin to the grim reaper in some aspects—which, while some of the saturation was to accommodate the nintendo 3ds’s screen, every old school appearance including frontier kept the bright golden sheen its body has. in sunbreak it’s more skin colored??? its most noticeable with gore tho and sadly that extended to wilds. any glimpse beneath the black shell given just looks like skin or molt, not the golden scales it’s supposed to have. again, old school had this, and it makes more contextual sense in that regard, so idfk why they changed it. even without old school it doesn’t make sense.

-this one probably doesn’t bother most but okay world fucked up a lot of returning monster roars (ex. zin having very generic wolf howls) so did expect that for wilds but goddamn the gurgly growls added are bad. again seems to be tied to the realism push but part of what made gore so perfect was how unnatural it was in both looks and sound design. the iconic big roar is literally human screams in reverse plus slightly altered. the deep grunts it made when hurt are unexpected and unfitting, which further added to the alien feel. on a sensory scale for me at least the gurgles are especially bad :(

-being restricted to only the cliffs is also questionable. gore’s “nest” kinda resembles heaven’s mount and sanctuary, but 1. gore roamed outside of those areas, going as far as wooded and grassland biomes, and 2. due to the plot stating frenzy impacted the dragon torch, it should be found in wyveria, too, yet it isn’t. just more context nonsense.

-how the frenzy was implemented is baddddd (and it turns out the frenzied monsters don’t even work as intended anyways (they’re the weakest monsters in the game and don’t have the attack and speed buff they were meant to have) which is extra stupid). in general the existence of the magalas but no frenzied monsters is stupid because that makes their inclusion very unnecessary since it defeats both their purpose and their ecological lore. with sunbreak i feel like it could be justified since shagaru being out of sanctuary and risen shagaru imply magala actually feed off of other diseases/mass extinction events as well (though this can be argued against).

-big story issue in particular is how it feels incredibly tacked on. for me it was really fucking hype, especially with the return of investigations, but on a gameplay and contextual standpoint, being restricted to such a small pool of monsters—most of whom are only found in the cliffs, forest, and hollow—doesn’t make it feel like an actual threat, especially since those monsters tend to be on a lower threat level. the true terror of the frenzy was that no living being save for elder dragons were spared, with wyverns suffering the worst of it. wilds definitely built off the former using the story cutscenes and rove, as previously the infection impacting humans/lynians/wyverians was just implied (the hunter being the only example of a human being impacted), so the open clarification is a welcome inclusion. the restrictions really bog down that threat, though.

4/4u also made sure to show the ecological impacts, with monsters normally under the radar, posing minimal threat, or in other habitats suddenly coming out of the woodworks and fucking up the natural balance. this included elder dragons too, with dalamadur and gogmazios emerging as a result of changing times.

with wilds it really isn’t well displayed? while the game claims oh the inclemency has greatly damaged the environment, it’s not shown outside of just having that be the only weather option until you beat all the apexes. arkveld’s reintroduction showed several monster corpses, so at least they could do that, or make environmental hazards more dangerous and frequent, but it’s really just the same. essentially a lot of telling not showing.

speaking of arkveld, man you can’t tell the “frenzy infecting the water supply trickled to arkveld and made it berserk” was just a tact on reason behind why you can fight it and why frenzy got included when the actual justification was right there???? guardian arkveld could only properly eat via elemental absorption, so while next gen arkveld have proper organs, they’re still underdeveloped and they have the instinctual need to harvest elemental energy, hence why they continue to wreak havoc. frenzy doesn’t fit that.

it just feels like nostalgia bait or justification for bringing back gore without actually making any impact.

-also miss how normal monsters would suddenly fall ill and then get the frenzy, not always appearing as frenzied??? again more contextual sense that also enhances gameplay and worldbuilding.

-in general the entirety of the high rank story feels rushed at best, with no significant fights save for normal ark and gore, leaving the inclusion of frenzy and gore absolutely pointless. if they have no impact, why is the frenzy plotline there?

cool to see a few returning monsters but they were already shown off. i’m sure future updates will build on this, but that doesn’t excuse the lackluster writing and content. seriously a lot of it would’ve been fixed with a few more surprise monsters and shagaru (because having gore without shagaru makes no sense) along with more frenzied monsters and uses for frenzy crystals. then again this game is allergic to having elder dragons which makes all but three monsters capturable (two which are one time story fights) which definitely doesn’t cheapen the endgame at all so maybe we’ll never see shagaru. who knows.

also maybe it’s for the best we don’t get more frenzied monsters until a future update when they fix how frenzy works because again, frenzied monsters are the weakest monsters in the game, and are essentially glass canons minus the canon. literally just the monster with less health, the ability to inflict (a very weakened version of) the frenzy, and nothing more.

idk lemme know if i’m stupid or if anyone else is bothered by this.

[hypexion]

It's the end of the year. So that clearly means it's time to look at some Magic: The Gathering mechanics!

People have claimed that this year's sets have been too tropey, and moreso, that the mechanics themselves have a flavour that's too restrictive. As with many wide-ranging statements about Magic mechanics, all I can think is "Is that really true?". So let's have a look!

I'll be looking at new mechanics from six sets: the four Standard releases, along with the Fallout commander decks, and the Assassin's Creed miniset. How "reusable" the mechanics are will mostly be considered in terms of Standard sets, as supplemental sets have much looser flavour requirements, as they often draw from the entire Magic canon.

Murders at Karlov Manor

MKM is perhaps the set people are getting most up in arms about, to the point where they make ludicrous statements. No, this couldn't have been done on New Cappena, there are like a million issues with that idea. (But a new plane would have been fine since it wouldn't have all of SNC's baggage)

Disguise/Cloak - These two are variants on morph and manifest respectively, and the flavour is flexible, while being an accurate description of what the mechanics do. When you cast a spell for its disguise cost, you are literally disguising what it is. Cloak is a little less clean, but there's a similar conceptual throughline. While there's a little bit of baggage around why creatures (or other stuff) would be wearing disguises, it's still a pretty universal thing to be happening.

Cases - A new enchantment subtype with a condition to unlock additional abilities. The flavour is slightly restrictive here, but you can have a case outside of criminal investigations. Bloomburrow's use of the Class subtype also suggests that you can mostly ignore the subtype's flavour as long as the card name is evocative enough. Since a lot can be done with Cases, this is likely a situation where the flavour can be stretched in such a way, as opposed to other keywords and subtypes.

Collect Evidence - Now we're getting somewhere. Collecting evidence requires you to exile cards from your graveyard, which makes a lot of sense in terms of a murder investigation, but less so outside of one. The name is less of a problem, as like with Cases, collecting evidence isn't limited to crime solving. Still more restricted than the previous two, however. (Of course if it was just "Collect" it would be so open as to be usable anywhere.)

Suspect - Last and least for MKM is suspect. On its face, suspect is already quite restrictive, since you generally suspect people of doing crimes. Even in a slightly wider context, it's still tied into investigating implicitly bad things. But the specific mechanical implementation makes suspect incredibly clunky, as being suspected grants menace. So it somewhat implies that a suspect creature is suspected of doing something bad enough to make them scary.

Outlaws of Thunder Junction

In an attempt to avoid the problems with the Western genre, OTJ ended up being set on a world that's kind of weird and empty. Would a Thunder Junction Planeswalker's Guide helped things, or merely revealed that the plane is naught but a dusty canvas?

Mount + Saddle - A very open-ended subtype-mechanic pair, much like Vehicle and crew. If a plane has rideable animals and people to ride them, it can have Mounts to saddle. There's really not much else to say here.

Spree - Like Cases, there's enough leeway in the concept of sprees that this is a less restrictive name that it first appears. You can go on a crime spree or killing spree, but also a shopping spree! Which is nice, because "modular spell with modular cost" is a very usefull design tool. This might not be as stretchable as Cases, but it's not fully fixed to the crime and villain themes of OTJ.

Plot - This is an interesting one, because OTJ already ignores the implicit flavour restrictions. You can plot creatures, including wild animals. What does that even mean? So while this is theoretically narrow, it turns out in practice you can just do whatever you want with it. Perhaps this is a somewhat meta thing, as Magic is all about plotting your opponent's downfall.

Outlaws - Yeah, this batch of baddies is a very narrow idea, requiring a setting where being an outlaw is a Big Deal. I think this will be a general issue with batching going forward - it works very well to tied together specific set theme, but outside of the theme it ends up being too clunky. But batches are cheap, so it's not too much of an issue.

Committing Crime - It has crime in the name. Although in terms of putting a name to "targeting your opponent's stuff", I think that's as about as good as you can get. At least without coming up with a really weird technical-sounding term nobody likes. But yeah, it specifically uses the word crime, which brings a certain level of "caring about the law" into things that most Magic sets tend not to.

Bloomburrow

Everybody loves BLB, the set that's very original, assuming you aren't familiar with the material being referenced. It's cute and cuddly, except for the Calamity Beasts, living embodiments of natural disasters. Also it has a lot of mechanics.

Expend - This mechanic has basically zero flavour beyond what it is. You expend mana on spells, you get an effect. Since that's a thing happening in any set, expend has essentially no flavour restrictions.

Valiant - The updated version of heroic, which works with abilities, but only once a turn. Much like heroic, the flavour here is pretty flexible, since being heroic or valiant is something a lot of things do on a lot of planes. Not as extremely open-ended as expend, but still no serious restrictions.

Forage - Another funky cost mechanic like collect evidence. Unlike collect evidence, it's a bit more flexible, although the graveyard component is linked to the specific thing Bloomburrow's squirrels have going on. That's still something that bends fairly easily, but it's a restriction that the previous two didn't quite have.

Pawprints - A different way to do modular spells with modular costs, BLB featured a cycle of cards letting you chooses modes costing a total amount of pawprints. While this specific implementation is somewhat restrictive, the underlying technology can easily swap out the symbols. It's a little extra work, but it gets you where you want to go.

Gift - The first of the fun cute mechanics. Gift is essentially a kicker variant, where you get your kicks by being nice instead of paying more. While gifting is a universal concept, in the wizard-fights of Magic, the specific vibes of Bloomburrow are doing a non-trivial amout of work here. However, it's more a case that specific settings are broadly incompatible with the flavour of gift, rather than gift being locked to Bloomburrow.

Offspring - At first, offspring seems very flexible. Sure, maybe you can't put it on an angel or a construct, but lots of things have offspring. It's fine. Except when you think about it, Bloomburrow's cutesy flavour and funtime vibes manage to cover up that in some ways, offspring is a child soldier mechanic. It's right in the name! Perhaps that's a little bit of a mean reading... but March of the Machine did the same thing, just in the opposite direction. The scariness of Phyrexia covers for what exactly comes out of an incubator token. Which is also a mean reading I guess. Either way, offspring does have some peculiar flavour restrictions going on to avoid Big Troubles.

Duskmourn: House of Horror

I'm not going to lie to you: I love Duskmourn. It's a great concept for a plane and no amount of "but the cheerleaders" counts as an actual argument against it's strengths. Did you ever consider that Valgavoth wants the cheerleaders there, for his own sinister purposes? I thought not.

Rooms - Another new enchantment subtype, bringing the previously theoretical "split permanent" to life. Most planes have rooms. And since Rooms are enchantments, in some sense they represent the idea of a room more than the actually physical space. A tent could be a room. Or a cave. Or a cabin in the wood and it's princess-holding basement. But I digress. Flavourwise, Rooms can be dropped into essentially any set without serious work being needed to justify them. Can you believe people actually think otherwise?

Impending - It's like suspend, but on the battlefield. Plently of things can impend, although the word and time delay imply a certain level of grandness. An ordinary Ravnican does not impend, but Rakdos might. There's a bit of a catch in that an impending creature needs to also be an artifact or enchantment, but that's a fairly small hurdle to clear in terms of flavour. There's a lot of space to play in when it comes to "creature that shows up after a delay" that means the restrictions aren't too tough.

Survival - A little bit of a weird one, as it carries the implication that surviving isn't a normal thing. Many Magic planes are dangerous, but a certain level of survivability is generally implied. While this isn't entirely pinned to Duskmourn, there's a possible grimness to it that boxes survival into a more limited numbe of locations.

Manifest Dread - A second twist on manifest, for fun. Or terror, I suppose. Dread is a bit of a weird thing to manifest outside of places like Duskmourn and Innistrad, so this one definitely has a certain level of flavour baggage. While not entirely insurmountable, the flavour isn't quite as stretchable as some other mechanics.

Eerie - Like constellation, but it also works when fully opening a Room. This one actually feels very restrictive, because an enchantment entering or a Room unlocking is only eerie in the specific context of Duskmourn. In other contexts, that makes less sense. This might not be a large problem, since Rooms were used in a specific way in DSK, but eerie is still very glued to that.

Fallout

Pip pip, it's PIP. War never changes, but war has changed. I guess there's technically three mechanics here.

Junk tokens - It's junk. Lots of places have junk, and the junk effect is very generic. Just exiling a card off the top of the library so you can maybe play it. Perhaps the whole flavour package doesn't quite line up, but Blood tokens are in a similar niche. And Junk feels more like a thing that can show up anywhere than Blood does.

Rad counters - The problem here is not the concept of radiation. Every lorehead knows that Kaito and Eiko Skizuki's mother died due to radiation poisoning. Also, some guy called Yawgmoth investigated how powerstone radiation was bad for people, with terrible results. Thus, the multiverse has radiation that is bad for you, although only on planes with a certain technology level. The sticking point to me is that a "rad" is technically a real-world unit. Not as bad as the SI units that are named after actual people, perhaps, but still something to consider.

Bobbleheads - Honestly not quite a mechanic, but this artifact subtype does have a connected theme. This one is very wired in to the specific Fallout aesthetic, which is the first point against it. The other is that a bobblehead is a very particular thing, which most planes probably wouldn't be producing. Maybe pre-Valvagoth Duskmourn, but you know, the whole place got eaten by a demon.

Assassin's Creed

From my understanding, Assassin's Creed involves both an ancient precursor civilization, along with a millennia long conspiracy. So it's basically like Dominaria but less excessive.

Freerunning - An alternate cost, payable if you did combat damage with an Assassin or commander. It's a bit like prowl. It's also entirely wired into the specific details of the Assassin's Creed franchise. "Freerunning assassins" is like the entire point of those games. A very, very restrictive mechanic in terms of flavour, but it does feel like it was designed to be a one-off.

Conclusion?

Thematic keywords were not as troublesome as some might say. While a few end up being quite restrictive, others can be stretched further than expected, and some are actually quite generic, even with the context that created them. We also shouldn't forget that Magic has been doing this for a long time. Sometimes baking a little flavour into a mechanic's name is a good thing, especially if it doesn't really have the design space to exist outside of its original context.

Also it's a little weird there were two crime-themed sets in a row, and both 2023 and 2024 had what could uncharitably be described as child soldier mechanics.

[splonk-fox]

The Chosen One's redemption: Why did it happen?

Since his reintroduction within the world of Animator vs. Animation within its second season, one of the most interesting characters that this series has to offer, at least in my opinion, is The Chosen One.

Introduced intially as an antagonistic force to the Animator/Alan. Despite having minimal appearances overall, The Chosen One has had a massive impact on the plot overall. Due to being the one to destroy Alan's computer and forcing him to get a new one, which inadvertedly lead to the creation of The Second Coming.

All things considered, you can thank The Chosen One for pretty much the entire series going forward, even if indirectly. With all that said though, there's one thing that's always been somewhat bothering me about his character, and it's something that I wanted to explore roday. With that thing being his redemption.

Now on the surface, there doesn't really seem like there's much to discuss in the way of Chosen's change of heart. He disliked what The Dark Lord was doing, do he decided to stop him, pretty simple right? Well... that's where things get complicated, and it all comes down to The Chosen One's vague moral code.

The Chosen One, the moment he was created, was a beast of mass destruction. He immediately started attacking Alan and causing havoc around his PC, and unlike victim that came beforehand, this wasn't instigated by Alan attempting to kill him. He was just given life and decided he wanted to destroy shit. And that's how he was for at least the first episode. He was incredibly destructive and uncontrollable. Why exactly? Well it's strongly implied that it comes with the name, judging by Alan's interaction with progammer021 on AIM.

It seems that in this world, naming your stick figure "The Chosen One" instantly turns them into lethal weapons. Because of this, you could almost say that The Chosen One was simply an amoral program who destroyed because it was part of his nature. As a matter of fact, analyzing his behavior in his debut episode he almost acts like that of a wild animal. Tearing up documents and destroying programs with no real rhyme or reason, and defending himself against anyone who would try to stop him.

In Animator vs. Animation 2 though, things become a lot more interesting. As this episode starts to give The Chosen One more dimension, he starts acting less like a feral creature, and more like a person who's been caged, enslaved if you will, and is yearning for release.

Following The Chosen One managing to release himself from Alan's grip. He continues his rampage from several years ago. Though this one noticeably feels more spiteful. While his first attack upon his awakening seems more like he was simply destroying things because of his nature, here it feels a lot more targetted at Alan, which makes sense considering he obviously hates the guy's guts for what he did to him. That isn't to say he doesn't still exhibit old traits though. He still does a lot of things in this episode that come off as somewhat childish in nature, such as eating Alan's required essay Pac-Man style.

However, the biggest thing I believe that this episode shows isn't the fact that The Chosen One is more humanlike than we might initially give him credit for, but rather the fact also shows that he has agency. Morals even, and there's no better show of that, than with his alliance with The Dark Lord.

The Chosen One's friendship with The Dark Lord is a weird one. Cause all things considered he had no reason to even want to ally with him. They had been enemies up until that point and it would've been more beneficial for him to just kill him off right then and there. But he didn't. Instead, he offered an alliance, for the two of them to team up and rise against their oppressive creator. This, to me, shows that even in the early days, The Chosen One was more than just a stick figure of mass destruction, he was a person, and that all leads back to the main topic of this post, his redemption.

The Chosen One's redemption has always been a weird one to me. The main reason being that we aren't actually given an explanation for why he changed. Yes, we know that he didn't approve of Dark's actions, and that's a big reason for why he redeemed himself. But what exactly about his actions did he not approve of? It can't of been the sheer fact that he was causing destruction or endangerig lives because well... The Chosen One had already been doing that, years before his redemption

As a matter of fact, The Chosen One was the whole reason The Dark Lord became a villain in the first place. So if not for the sheer fact of Dark putting innocents at risk being the reason he decided to change his ways, then what was it? Well I believe there are two likely explanations for what caused this change.

The first is the one that a good majority of the Animator vs. Animation fanbase believe to be the most likely of them, and that is that The Chosen One has standards against harming his own kind.

Now there's actually a lot to support this theory. The biggest one being when Chosen imagines what would happen if Dark released the ViraBots onto the internet.

Many have pointed out that in this vision, Chosen only imagined stick figures running away from Dark's entourage, and how that's what caused him to put his foot down. There's also the fact that the moment Chosen starts having second thoughts, is when they start attacking Newgrounds, a place populated by stick figures.

Hell there was even evidence of this before his redemption. All the way back in Animator vs. Animation 3, Chosen chose to spare Dark and become friends with him. This would make a whole lot of sense if we look at this through the lens of Chosen not liking the idea of hurting his own kind.

There is... one pause I have with his however. And that is with the fact that The Chosen One, doesn't seem to just object killing fellow stick figures. Going back to the Newgrounds flashback, the last shot we see before we fast forward to present day shows The Dark Lord holding the Tankman by the neck while Chosen pleads for him to stop. Tankman isn't a stick figure, so going by the logic that he only takes issue with him hurting other stick figures, why would he care about this? Well you could argue that maybe him seeing what Dark was doing to other stick figures gave him a wake up call and made him realize that them hurting other programs was wrong, but I believe there is another possible explanation for this.

Explanation two: The Chosen One was never meant to be a villain. Let me ask you a question, were you born believing that you had a specific purpose, a specific reason to exist, and you spent most of your life thinking that's what you wanted, only to realize overtime how unfulfilled it made you feel? Well I believe that The Chosen One might just be experencing this exact thing

The Chosen One, since his very first days, was a destructive monster. He destroys things, he wreaked havoc, and there was seemingly no way to control him. Though beyond that he was also an incredibly young stick figure, one that, as noted above, acted rather childish. However, by the time of Animator vs. Animation season 2, which going by the date displayed on Alan's computer, took place in 2018, The Chosen One would've been around eleven years old. That's more than a decade of doing the same thing, and it's clear that it took its toll on him.

In his official reintroduction to the series, The Chosen One is noticeably colder than he was when we last saw him. He completely ignored the praise he was receiving from the other sticks, and at no point do we see him getting up to any sort of childish antics. He feels a lot more mature here, like a stick figure who has grown a lot since his creation.

So considering his clear change in personality, would it be crazy to assume that perhaps his enjoyment in destructive habits did to?

The Chosen One is one of the oldest stick figures in this series, and in that time it seems like he spent most of his life doing the same thing, destroying.

So, assuming that the Newgrounds raid happened not too long before his confrontation with Dark. Perhaps The Chosen One was feeling a sense of emotional dissatisfaction. Looking at the inital shot, it does kind of come off that way, with how his hands are slowly extinguishing of their flames as he watches over the destruction. Perhaps in that moment, he realized he wasn't enjoying it anymore, as a matter of fact, he might've even felt guilty about it, if him pleading for Dark to release the Tankman is anything to go by. Really in a broader sense, I think The Chosen One, kind of had a moment of self-reflection. He finally let the years catch up to him and it made him realize how emotionally unfulfilled he was.

After all, he isn't just some amoral beast, he's a stick figure. A stick figure with its own agency. And we know for a fact that stick figures in this series possess almost humanlike intelligence, so is it bold to assume that, in the decade he's been doing the same thing, he didn't feel satisfied anymore? In my opinion, I think that's a possibility.

To take this a step forward, I might even go as far as to to argue that The Chosen One was never meant for destruction in the first place. Yes, he was born a monster, but that doesn't necessarily mean he meant to be one. As early as the third episode of the series, The Chosen One already showed to be a lot more human than we may have initally suspected, he has already shown to be capable of mercy and kindness, even when he was this supposedly ruthless villain.

Let's take a look at Chosen's name for a moment. "The Chosen One", what does it mean? Well according to wikipedia a Chosen One is "a narrative trope where one character, usually the protagonist, is framed as the inevitable hero or antihero of the story, as a result of destiny" now I dunno about you, but this sounds pretty similar to the character journey that The Chosen One underwent. He may have started out a villain, but through destiny (in this case The Dark Lord's full descent into villainy), he became the hero of the story. Maybe, this had been his true purpose from the start.

Hell, let's dive even deeper into this idea. Who is The Chosen One's archnemesis? The Dark Lord, and what does Dark Lord mean in fiction? well, looking at wikipedia again, a Dark Lord is "an antagonistic archetype, acting as the pinnacle of villainy and evil within a typically heroic narrative." which I dunno about you, but that sounds pretty fitting considering that The Dark Lord is by far the most evil antagonist this series has ever seen and one of the few who hasn't redeemed in some way. I should also mention that, even before The Dark Lord joined The Chosen One, he was fighting on the side of Alan, someone who, at this point in this series, was arguably the main villain. He created a stick figure just so he could torture and kill them and enslaved The Chosen One for four years. Sure Chosen kinda had that one coming, but even then Alan had no reason to be that cruel to him when he could've just killed him or kept him contained. But instead he decided to use him, like an object, that doesn't really sound like a hero to me. Not to mention that Alan was literally the one who gave The Dark Lord his name. All things considered, you could almost consider Chosen the hero in that scenario for trying to destroy his creator. Which kind of loops back to my original point, that The Chosen One wasn't meant to be a villain. Even in the beginning he was meant to be a hero, even if he didn't realize it. Which is why he ultimately left his past as a villain behind, because it was a life that was never made for him, a life that only provided a temporary sense of satisfcation. Meanwhile The Dark Lord, someone who's name alone means to be the worst of the worst, would become an irredeemable monster who The Chosen One, as the inevitable hero decided by destiny, would have to stop.

Oh, and one last thing that goes to support this theory, ya know The Second Coming? Well if you remember, he was meant to be The Chosen One's reincarnation, his return. So isn't it convenient that he is possibly the most heroic character in the series? And that's not mentioning the fact that he started with the same roots that Chosen did. A rogue stick figure who fought against Alan before redeeming himself. Keep in mind, The Second Coming only exists because of The Chosen One's actions. So all things considered... maybe his redemption was a lot more inevitable than any of us first thought.

On that note, I think that's me for today, thank you all for taking valuable time out of your day to read this analysis, I greatly appreciate it. Here's hoping that more come in the future