#and I had it easy compared to others I was reading ahead in that first book after that scene and texting warnings to another classmate bc

[losthomunculus]

I think its important to read heavy books in school for the value they bring to education but also I think teachers need better training on how to actually do that cause like why did we read a child sexual assault scene out loud in class with 0 forewarning or time to process. and was it really necessary to play the lord of the flies audio book that had squelching stabbing sounds and pig squealing. again with no heads up. like was that necessary.

[meiieiri]

𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫 [toji fushiguro]

synopsis: so she tells him not to cry over the injustice of a life cut too short for at the end of all this, she’ll only be a dream.

pairing: ex-husband!toji fushiguro x terminally ill wife!reader | song inspo: soon you’ll get better, cancer

warnings: heavy angst, terminal illness (primary bone cancer, stroke and MS), mentions of divorce/past infidelity, allegories to cheating, major character death. please read at your own risk. | a/n: this was so heavy for me to write, i started writing at 2 in the morning, and it’s 6:34 now.

word count. 3k~

“Why can’t you do anything right?”

Toji should have noticed, he laments as he takes a sip of his cognac. He should have sensed that something was wrong sooner, maybe that way, he wouldn’t be begging to borrow some more time to make things right. Your fingers were trembling that day — the first time you ever ruined his morning coffee — your hands shaking uncontrollably as you washed the mug with a sorrowful look on your face, your eyes glossy with the tears you were desperately trying to hold back.

He shouldn’t have been so harsh, he realizes that now. Breakfast had been burnt to a crisp and ruined, sure, but nothing could compare to how he constantly ruins the one beautiful thing that has ever happened to him, who haphazardly spilled her smoothie on him when they first bumped into each other in Shinjuku just after he finally cashed in enough money with Shiu to get his laundry done.

Toji, whose senses have now been honed to pick up on the slightest of your sluggish movements and your pained and suppressed hisses, hears the bedsheets rustling and he instantly gets up before you could even force yourself out of bed. “Hey, hey, easy now.” He catches you before you could fall backwards onto the mattress, your skin appears cold and clammy, your thinning muscles stiff as a board — you must be having one of your episodes again. “What do you need?” he asks, his voice heartbreakingly gentle for the first time in months.

“Water.”

Your husband nods, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed, hurriedly making his way to the dining table which was now kept in your bedroom so you aren’t forced to move around too much. The sound of water splashing into the glass fills the air and you feel another stabbing pain coarse through your joints.

Toji gingerly brings the glass of water to your lips and you sighed, an exasperated yet amused smile on your face. “I can do it, babe. Don’t worry.” Why did that sound like you were trying to convince not just Toji but yourself? You bring your bony hands to grip the glass and it takes everything out of your husband not to break into a fit of sobs when he sees your hand violently shaking with effort just to keep the glass steady.

His larger hands close around your defeated one. “I-I…I can do it, I did it yesterday. Y-you saw me.”

“Shhh, I know, it’s okay.”

You bite your lip to distract yourself from the anguish of realizing the truth behind the doctor’s words. Everything you feared was finally becoming your and Toji’s bleak reality.

“It’ll be a painful decline.”

Funny how you’re the one fighting to extend your life but Toji feels like he’s already gone ahead and passed on. Just a few minutes earlier, you were overjoyed to see him again. You didn’t think he’d see your text thinking that his new girlfriend must have asked him to block your number, and you most certainly didn’t expect him to arrive when you asked for him via a brief phone call to drive you to the hospital for your monthly checkup since he took the car with him when you separated. He made up a bullshit excuse when Yuko asked where he was going in such a hurry and he makes it to your old shared apartment to see you sitting on the driveway looking thinner and sicklier than ever — your eyes were sunken, and your cheeks were hollow.

Yet in spite of that, you gave him the brightest of smiles, waving shyly to him as he steps out of the driver’s seat. “Happy morning!” you smiled, greeting him with your signature good morning tagline which he used to happily wake up to everyday. There wasn’t a scintilla of resentfulness in your demeanor, and you genuinely looked so happy to see him for the first time since he moved out.

“How long?” Toji asked the doctor, his heart twisted into knots when he hears you happily humming in the MRI room as you put your clothes back on, oblivious to the solemn mood in the other room. You already knew what was going on, but you’ll just continue pretending that everything’s alright and that this is nothing more but a case of fatigue so as not to inconvenience Toji.

“A year, maybe even less.”

“And…you’re saying it’s best if she simply…doesn’t get the treatment?”

The doctor sighs heavily. She’s seen many cases like this before, but none as utterly hopeless as yours. Even if you did start the treatment, the lesions in your spinal cord have already entered the most severe stage, you were already exhibiting signs of autonomic nervous system distress — the tremors, the uncontrollable stuttering of your words, the growing loss of balance — and as if that wasn’t enough, the doctor also discovers that you were suffering from primary osteosarcoma.

There was no way to cure you now that it’s too late.

“I suggest we just focus on keeping her comfortable. The only thing left for us to do now is to bring her home. I’m so sorry.”

“You’re so fucking embarrassing. I can’t bring you anywhere.”

By some miracle, you and Toji went out one night around four months before the divorce proceedings. He went home that day, exhausted beyond all belief from another mission, but he was in a good mood. Yuko was out working late tonight, so, he decides to take you out to your and his favorite izakaya for some yakitori.

Some time during the night, after downing three full bottles of sake together, you excuse yourself to use the restroom. “I’ll be right back,” you told Toji, tipsily kissing him on the cheek as you hop off the bar stool in the direction of the women’s room.

You couldn’t tell if you were staggering from the copious amounts of alcohol you ingested, but your legs were beginning to feel heavy, and for some ominous reason, you were slowly losing all sensation in your left leg. You try to hold onto one of the izakaya’s shōji panel decor pieces to regain your balance, but it was a futile effort in the end. Your knees suddenly buckle, and a sickening crack tears through your tibia as you fall to the ground.

“Are you alright?!”

Toji picks up on the commotion instantly and he sees the izakaya patrons crowding around the hallway leading to the restroom. He quickly makes his way over and a look of disgust appears on his features when he sees you crumpled on the ground and the mortifying sight of you having relieved yourself on the floor, tears of embarrassment staining your cheeks at the thought of your body suddenly malfunctioning like this.

Muttering out an ignorant apology for his seemingly drunk wife, he roughly picks you up, growing increasingly infuriated with you when one izakaya employee offers him a damp cloth to dry out your urine with. It was funny how quickly other people came to your aid — people whose names you don’t even know — while your own husband seems very reluctant to even touch you right now. He doesn’t speak to you on the way home even as you apologize while he’s loading you into the car, grimacing when the leather seat gets wet. “Toji, I-I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened—“

“—Save it.”

What he should have said was: “Are you okay?”, “It’s alright.” or better yet, “I still love you.”.

At present, Toji decides on a whim to take you to Yokohama’s famed bayside today. It’s only a two hour drive from your place in Tokyo and Toji figures you must miss going on road trips by now with you cooped up at home all the time. “Toji, are you sure this is a good idea?” you murmured nervously as the car pulls to a stop by the bayside promenade. What happens if you can’t control yourself again? There doesn’t look to be a lot of public restrooms nearby.

Toji plants a reassuring kiss to your nose. “Babe, you remember what the doctor said, spending some time outdoors can do wonders for your health. Besides, didn’t you always love the coast?” He brings your hand to his scarred lips, rubbing his thumb against the soft skin before stepping out of the car to retrieve your wheelchair from the trunk.

“I know but what if I have another accident?” you said worriedly, rolling down the car windows so he could hear you. “What if I embarrass you again?”

“There’s nothing embarrassing about you.”

You’ve lost all control of your lower extremities three months ago, rendering you unable to walk and feel when you need to relieve yourself. Toji struggles with the wheelchair for a bit and a flash of sadness fills your heart when you see him take a few deep breaths to calm himself down. He wasn’t angry, he was devastated. He looks wistfully at the boardwalk, a distant gaze trained on the sea. He remembers when you used to walk down this very lane, his hand protectively around your waist as you happily take selfies. He could still hear your fond giggles the last time the two of you went here.

“Why don’t you ever smile when I take pictures of you?”

Toji shoos away a pigeon from stealing a bite of his ice cream sandwich. He feigns an unamused look when you try to take another picture of him on your phone.

“Come on, I’ve been trying to get a shot of you all day! You still have to take pictures of me so I can post it on my Instagram feed!”

Your ever moody husband pinches off a small piece of bread and feeds it to the nosy pigeon. “You and your precious feed,” he bemoans jokingly.

“Please? Just one picture!“ you playfully nudged him. Truthfully, you just wanted to see him smile for once, a genuine one and not one of those lopsided smirks he usually gives you when he’s teasing you. “Please?” you pout knowing he can never say no to that adorable face you make when you really want him to do something or worse, buy something for you.

Sighing, he turns to look at your phone’s camera lens and you blush when a smile slowly illuminates his usually stoic face. Your thumb hovers over the stop recording function, not realizing you’re taking a video, but you can’t seem to press it. “What’s taking so long?” he holds the smile like he’s some cartoon character and you snap out of it.

“Oh shoot, it’s a video!” you laughed, and you begin to run down the boardwalk, eagerly getting away from Toji who demands that you delete it immediately. Of course, you’re no match for his borderline inhuman speed attributed to his athletic physique and he catches you by the waist, playfully swinging you over his shoulder like you’re a sack of potatoes.

Now, your giggles have gone silent.

Toji realizes now he should have indulged you more over the course of your relationship and subsequent marriage. Had he known that you won’t even make it to your third wedding anniversary, he would have allowed you to take as many pictures and videos of him as you’d like, he’d swallow his pride and he’d give you the brightest of smiles so you could happily post him on your social media accounts with a heartwarming caption about him being your “smiley hubby”.

More than that though, he should have taken more photos of you, mostly stolen candid shots, of course. You can’t catch him being all soft on you now. He still has a reputation to live up to after all. But more than that, had he known that your illness was intent on stealing every scrap of you from him, he should have made more effort in preserving all these memories. He should have kept everything from those toll tickets on your late night drives together when the two of you just needed a quick escape from the world, to receipts from your trip to Tokyo Disney Sea on your first wedding anniversary, and even simple convenience store receipts.

Toji should have kept everything down to the smallest of memories knowing one day, that’s all he’ll have to remember you by.

He opens the passenger seat’s door and he effortlessly gathers you into his arms, being extra careful with your fragile form as he sits you down on the wheelchair. He opens the backseat and he pulls out two different colored blankets, one sea-foam green and the other, rose pink. “Take your pick,” he smiles at you and you chuckled softly, pointing to the rose pink one. He happily covers your legs with it to keep you warm, stroking your cheek when you whisper a bashful ‘thank you’.

Suddenly, the wind picks up and your hair-clip that’s holding your locks in a low bun comes loose, and your head turns in the direction of where it flew off to. Toji is quick to take out his phone and he snaps a quick burst shot of you, your hair blowing in the wind, under the coastal spring weather. You turn to look at him and your face falls when you see him burying his phone in his pocket. Since you fell ill, you’ve become insecure of your appearance, banning your husband from taking pictures and videos of you altogether. “Toji, I thought I said no pictures.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The next day, you serendipitously find your photo on your Instagram handle with the caption: “Y/N — Yokohama, Spring, 2024” and when you swipe left, another picture, well to be more accurate, a screenshot of the video clip you accidentally took of him captioned: “Toji — Yokohama, Summer, 2022”.

“You don’t have to stick around for me. Please just go, I’m sure Yuko must be looking for you right now.”

Yuko, his new fiancé, had been blowing up his phone the entire day with texts demanding to know where he is and if he’s going to make it to their date that night. It’s 7 PM now, and Toji still hasn’t shown up to confirm their restaurant reservations. The damn witch will surely cuss him out when they see each other again, but for some reason, even if he tries, he simply cannot bring himself to give a flying fuck. Your immunologist and oncologist stepped out for a bit to allow you two a brief moment of privacy which had now stretched to an expanse of five hours since your results came in.

The air in the room is thick and heavy, not a single sound can be heard. Inside however, underneath this tough exterior he was projecting, Toji is throwing a fit, screaming at the sky like those broken men in those shitty Netflix romance tragedies he used to callously make fun of.

“Why didn’t you call me sooner? You knew, didn’t you?”

Toji’s bites his cheek trying to keep a lid on his emotions. He knows the answer. He just wants to hear you say it out loud. You hated him. You wanted nothing to do with him after he cheated on you with some girl he met at a bar in uptown Shibuya. That’s why you didn’t tell him, he didn’t deserve to know. “Shit,” he whispers harshly, crumpling the medical abstract in his hands. “Why didn’t you tell me you were sick? Was it because you hated me? Is that it? You didn’t think I’d worry about you?”

You screwed your eyes shut, shaking your head. You didn’t hate him, not even when you have every reason to. He abandoned you, left you to waste away and to die and yet, even now, you can’t bring yourself to resent him for the simple reason that he is the literal love of your life, the reason behind your smiles, your happy mornings and passionate midnight hours. “At first, I thought I was fine, maybe just fatigued or something.”

“Don’t lie. You knew something was going on and that something in your body was seriously fucked up.”

“And we weren’t married anymore so, I didn’t think it was right to tell you…I wanted to though, but I didn’t want to intrude on you and Yuko,” you said meekly. Even in your greatest hour of need, you were still thinking of him, putting him first even when he doesn’t deserve it. “I-I…I don’t hate you enough to worry you, to make you feel that you could have done something to prevent this. Because I’m telling you right now, regardless if you were faithful or not, I was bound to get sick anyway. You couldn’t have done anything to change that.”

“But I could have been there. I should have noticed. I shouldn’t have downplayed everything.” He says this as if he wants to shake this noble, self-sacrificing bullshit attitude out of your system. “I’m your husband. I should have been there.”

You flash him a heartbroken smile at his little slip-up, so, even now, he was still referring to himself as your husband, not your ex-husband. “To see me waste away? Babe, I don’t want you to see that.”

You begin to feel tears streaming down your face, the emotions you were experiencing now flowing like a free river after an entire dam is destroyed. Toji watches you unravel before his eyes and his bottom lip begins to tremble. What has he done? Dear god, what has he done to his poor, poor wife?

“I want you to remember me healthy, I want you to remember me as myself not this…sickly pitiful woman you’re unlucky to call your ex-wife…besides, after all this, I’ll only be a dream.” A mere passing second in his life. “And believe me, my life wasn’t so bad.”

He loses it at that.

“Just stop this, Y/N! Stop acting like you’re not scared shitless of dying, like you’re not gonna have regrets once all this is over! Stop pretending that things are gonna be alright one day because it won’t! Not when I’m now being forced to accept that you won’t get better, not when I’ve wasted so much time putting you through hell and back instead of taking care of you like a proper husband should, and certainly not when I’m suddenly supposed to learn to say goodbye and to live without you! Because fuck that, Y/N!”

You are left speechless at that.

Toji was never one to lose his cool, even during your worst arguments, he may slide a few snarky remarks here and there but Toji Fushiguro…never yells, and he doesn’t sob either.

You hesitantly stand up and walk over to him, crouching down in front of him as he covers his tear-stained eyes with his right hand while the other is crumpled around your medical abstract. Taking his left hand, you gently remove the medical abstract from his grip, and for the first time in so many months, you feel one another’s warm skin against each other. You press your forehead to his hand as you wept with him.

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you to be a dream. I want you to be real.”

“Can’t you be bothered to clean up in here?!”

You wake up from your nap, you’ve been battling muscle and joint pain the entire day, the slightest of movement causing you to double over in agony and because of that, you weren’t able to clean the apartment today. You slowly get up from the couch, being extra cautious not to make any sudden movements. “Well?” Toji presses, his lips curled into a scowl.

“I’m sorry, I was feeling a little tired,” you sighed heavily, picking up a broom to sweep the living room floor despite the excruciating pain you were in. Toji rolls his eyes, handing you a Manila envelope. “What’s this?” you asked softly, peering inside.

“Divorce papers,” he shrugs nonchalantly. Everything stops, even the very rise and fall of your chest halts into an uneasy stasis. “I already signed them. I just need your signature then, I’ll move out by tomorrow.”

You must be dreaming. That’s the only logical explanation to all this. You’re asleep, in a deep REM sleep, utterly oblivious to the world. This wasn’t happening. But you could feel the rough surface of the brown envelope, and you could still feel the agonizing stabs of white hot pain throughout your body. Glancing at Toji, you see him texting someone with an eager look on his face that screams: “I’m free.”.

Instantly, it dawns on you.

“Will she make you happy?” you asked, putting down the broom to look around for a pen but Toji pulls one he stole from the law firm office out of his pocket.

“She will,” he answers simply.

And you are indeed grateful that he is completely upfront about finding another while the two of you are married. It would have hurt much more, you silently remind yourself, if he had just upped and left without another word leaving you to wonder what went wrong between the two of you. This was Toji’s final act of mercy in your marriage, and he’s not opposed to honesty and truthfulness either. Not once did he try to change his phone’s lock-screen passcode, nor did he try to conceal the identity of the woman who was texting him every night while you slept fitfully next to him. It was almost as if he wanted you to find out, like he wanted you to know so you could back off yourself.

But if there’s one thing Toji loves about you, it’s your unending faithfulness to your promises, to your marriage vows, and your willingness to endure anything he threw at you. You never checked his phone, you never brought up his affair, you never got angry with him. You just kept silent, simply content with giving and giving…and giving while he milked you dry by taking, and taking and taking, tearing you to pieces bit by bit without hearing a single complaint fall from your lips.

You were a devoted wife, through and through.

And it bored the hell out of him, on top of your recent mishaps, he was done. Done with everything, and done with you.

“Okay.”

Come morning, he takes everything he owns with him and promptly proposes to the girl he’s been seeing for the past year. Two weeks later, your divorce is received by the Tokyo Family Court and is summarily approved and finalized. From that moment on, you and Toji went on your separate ways never to look back, you were each other’s yesterdays, and the love that existed between the two of you was nullified in favor of acquaintanceship…or so you thought.

“Y/N, I’m home!” Toji calls into the house as he comes back from your neighborhood’s pharmacy. You look up from the book you were reading, smiling ever so slightly at your husband who seemed to have a wonderful sparkle in his eyes. “Hey, kid,” he kisses the top of your head when he reaches your wheelchair.

“You seem happy,” you remarked positively.

“Well, for one, they replenished their stocks today and I managed to get you your steroids and painkillers so you’ll be able to sleep easy tonight,” Toji smiles, taking out the items from the pharmacy’s paper bag. “And I got you this neat memory foam cushion for your wheelchair.” He fluffs it up as a form of demonstration before placing it behind your back.

When he sees you smile, a sense of relief washes over Toji. You reach towards him, and he pulls you into an embrace. “Thank you,” you said, pure sincerity dripping from your voice. “For everything you do.”

“Anything for you.” He suddenly moves back and reaches into the tote bag you lended him. “Oh, and wait, before I forget, I have another surprise.”

You laughed airily. “Another surprise? Now, you’re just spoiling me!”

He pulls out a piece of paper from the tote bag and he places it in your hands as your eyes quickly scan over the document. Your breath hitches in your throat when you realize what it is. Did Toji really—? You couldn’t believe it. “A marriage pre-registration,” you said in awe. You read it again just in case to make sure that this wasn’t a figment of your sick body’s imagination, that this was real, that Toji genuinely wants to make everything right again. Your fingers skim over your typewritten names. “It has our names…we’re really—“ You can’t even finish your sentence without bursting into happy tears. “Are we—?”

Toji nods, gazing into your eyes, and as emerald and (E/C) clash for what seems to be an eternity lost in one another, he plants a kiss to your temple, coming up to embrace you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“We are. The Tokyo Family Court, as far as I know, will approve our remarriage once we file this. So, you have to get stronger, okay?” He’s begging you at this point, despite your rapidly deteriorating condition. “Strong enough to see me fix everything. Strong enough to be there on our second wedding, strong enough to say our vows again.”

Your hand comes up to stroke his cheek from behind, and he nuzzles into your neck at your tender touch.

“I will. I promise.”

But you never really get to say your vows. Not comprehensibly anyway.

“Babe, can you say that again?”

Toji crouches by your bedside as you look at him apologetically. You were causing him trouble and pain again which is the last thing that you want to give him especially when’s fought and worked so hard to care for you, to keep prolonging this borrowed time you’re on. “To-ji. Toji.” You gaze at him apprehensibly, not really believing you can do it without crumbling.

“Come on, babe, you can do it. Say my name, please…Toji. I’m Toji.”

“Toooji-“ you slurred sadly. At this point, your Multiple Sclerosis has reached its end stage and has taken…everything from you: your ability to walk, your ability to control your muscle spasms and other bodily functions…and now, coupled with an unexpected stroke, your ability to speak. And you and Toji know that time is almost up, with you having come to accept it, while your husband still held onto hope. Your fingers gently graze over his face as best as your spasms and tremors allow you, starting from his forehead to his eyes, his nose, his cheek and finally, his lips, as if you’re memorizing it one last time. “Lo-ove you-“

Toji sniffles, and your fingers instinctively catch his warm tears. “I love you,” he whispers brokenly. “I do. I love you.”

You feel yourself tearing up as you’re forced to watch your beloved cry. And the worst part? You can’t do a thing about it. “D-oon’t c-cry—‘m okaay. Promi-miise…e’everyything ‘ill be okaaay.”

“Y-yeah,” he chuckles, trying to crack a joke even as hope dwindles. “You’ve been nothing but a fucking champ this entire time, you know? I’m so proud of you. So…so…proud that you’re still here.” He strokes your hair as you tread between the realms of the conscious and the unconscious. “Do you wanna go out today? The weather’s shit though. You’ll probably catch your death out there.” At the mention of the word ‘death’, Toji stops, falling into an uncomfortable silence.

You smile weakly at him. “Tiiredd—“

“You’re no fun,” Toji gently flicks your nose and you scrunch it up in displeasure. “Sorry,” he chuckles, holding back an entire waterfall of tears. He knows it’s today. It has to be. You woke up today without your usual ‘happy morning’ greeting, and you refused to drink anything, much less eat anything. “You tired? Any pain?”

You shake your head. You’re as comfortable as you can be for the first time in months. Hospice nurses say humans are built to live the same way they are built to die, no person in this world has ever had the uncanny privilege of being able to look up ‘How to die?’ on a quick Google search and actually find a Wikihow on the morbid subject matter, nor is there anyone else who can teach another how it’s done. It’s just something humans know how to do without a manual, deeply ingrained in the very fabric of human existence is the fear of death, the fear of what comes after, the fear of a nothingness that could follow after living such a vibrant life. Your life was short, barely spanning thirty years, but you lived well: you fell in love, you got hurt, but you fell together again. Now it all has to come to an end, Toji will just have to take care of the rest.

And you weren’t scared.

Or at least you can’t look scared, if you were to be more accurate, you have to look strong and ready to accept the cards you’ve been dealt with for Toji’s sake. When he feels your hand start to slacken, Toji intakes a sharp, shaky breath of sheer panic. “Not yet, Y/N. Please. Not yet.”

He climbs into bed with you, bringing you closer to this desperate man you call yours. There was no getting better anymore, there was no miracle he could hang onto, no deity he could beg for death to spare you, no pill bottle he could pray to. He knew that from the start. But what he witnessed these past months, you’ve been the braver one between the two of you, you knew how to make the most of the rhythm this cruel world gave you and you graciously took him along to dance to the last song of the evening with you.

“There’s still hope. Just keep your eyes open. Just keep them open.” He presses his lips to your forehead, his delusion getting the better of him. “We’ll just keep trying…you can’t leave. You have to stay. You have to.”

“Thaank yoou—“ you softly told your Toji, your voice shrinking in decibels as you become a little drowsy, sinking into the warmth of the requiem of a life well spent.

Toji listens to you, his lips pursed, intent on making this final act of love — a love that is strong enough to say goodbye — a memorable one. And should the afterlife exist, he wishes to send you off with a smile, with the reassurance that he’ll be alright even if that was far from happening.

“Toji.”

“I want you to be real. And I don’t care if we’ll live on borrowed time. Another extra second with you…is enough to last me my entire lifetime.”

[middlingmay]

“Let me get this straight: You’re calling me at 3 am, disrupting my beauty sleep on a workday, to ask me out?" - for Buck and Bucky please!

Hello Anon!

Thanks for the request - this one was so fun to write. I hope you like it :)

They’d settled near each other, after the war.

On that Florida air strip, where Wisconsin lay one way and Wyoming another, it had taken root inside Gale: the life ahead of him with patient, wonderful Marge, who no man could ever deserve, had stopped driving him on, compared to the life behind him with John.

When Gale had turned up on John’s doorstep, all his bags in hand and asking if he knew of any rooms to rent in town, he’d gotten to enjoy the sight of Major John Clarence Egan speechless for the first time in his life.

Gale had achieved what the combined forces of the US military, countless missions, German fighter pilots and a POW camp could not.

John had tried to offer him a room at his house, but Gale refused. It would have been easy, so easy to say yes and slip unspoken into this something between them. But Gale was sick of it being unspoken. He wanted to do it right this time.

In the days following his arrival, they found Gale a place to live, and like John, he found himself a little part time job to keep him busy and keep him from plundering his savings from his military salary, which remained largely untouched and offered a pretty little nest egg should he ever need it. (But not for the little apartment he and John found for him; that was hopefully only temporary.)

In the weeks following his arrival, they spent time together doing up the parts of John’s house that had gone without care for a little too long, and making Gale’s apartment feel a little more like a home. They went to eat in restaurants and John showed Gale his favourite haunts (not all of them bars, he was pleasantly surprised to see). They drove and walked around, perfectly aimless for once in their lives.

But none of it, Gale thought, could have been constituted as a date. And Gale did so want to date John. He wanted to take him out and make him feel special and walk him to his door at the end of the night and see if he could be lucky enough to steal a kiss.

He just had to ask him. Because apparently John was a gentleman, following this thing at Buck’s pace.

Gale had almost asked him that first day he’d turned up tired and hungry and John had taken care of him like it was the easiest thing in the world.

He’d almost asked him when John had dragged a heavy second-hand bookshelf up a flight of stairs to Gale’s apartment because he knew how Gale loved books and cleanliness in equal measure.

He almost asked him when Gale had a bad day and a worse evening, and John had steered them passed all the bars, up to Gale’s apartment, settled him with a poorly-made tea, and read to him from a physics book where he mispronounced half the words (Gale thought at least half must have been on purpose).

And now Gale was lying awake at some ungodly hour because he almost asked him.

Gale had been a cocksure pilot; one of the best, him and John. He had led squadrons of men in war, kept his guys together in a POW camp for a year and a half. He knew himself and what he was about. But here he was, flaking out, being a coward - a whole big pile of chicken shit - over John, who'd never made him feel anything but brave.

What kinda man was he?

Gale threw back the covers and hauled himself out of bed.

He was Major Gale W Cleven—Buck—goddamn it, and he could do this.

One of the selling points of his apartment had been its own private line. He padded out to the tiny lounge and picked up the phone and dialled the number he knew off by heart by now.

*

They were finally flying home, he and Buck. Just like he promised.

Gale grinned at him from the left. It was that grin he tried to hide sometimes, the one that showed off the apples of his cheeks and couldn't disguise his soft eyes when he looked at John.

When they both turned eyes front to enjoy the clear blue skies together that would take them home, Bucky saw them. The white far-off pinstripes of a hoard of incoming German fighters. But they were still a way off; they still had time. Buck still had time.

“Bail out, Buck!” They were so close to going home, he wasn’t risking Buck now.

But Gale just smiled at him. “Since when have you backed down from a challenge, Jon?”

The Germans were nearly on them.

“Gale! Go—get out! I’ll cover—!”

Gale petted the yoke unhurried. “Easy, Bucky. We’re safe as houses up here. Last two pilots left in the sky, just like you said.”

The Germans opened fire with a shrill ringing, ringing, ringing—

John bolted up in bed, chest heaving and heart beating hard and fast.

The phone was ringing.

He collapsed back onto the sheets. “Fuck.”

He almost let the phone ring out. It was fuck-knows-when in the morning. But then he remembered the very exclusive list of people who actually had his number, and he felt like he was jolting out of a nightmare all over again as he scrambled to catch it before it ringing stopped.

Buck. Buck might need him.

In the hallway, he snatched up the phone as soon as his fingertips grazed the smooth dark plastic. “H-hello?”

Whoever was on the other end was lucky to hear his voice over the thundering of his heart.

“It’s me, John.”

Buck. He knew it. “What is it?” He asked blunt and panicked. “What’s happened? What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’! Nothin’ John, I swear.” Buck exhaled slow. “Uh, I uh, god. I’m sorry; I wasn’t thinking.”

Sheepish. Buck sounded sheepish. He could work with sheepish. It wasn’t frightened, afraid.

“It’s fine, Buck,” he said. Heart finally getting under control. “C’mon, it’s fine. What’s on your mind?”

“I just, um. I was wonderin’. You promised me a baseball game. I was wonderin’ if I could take ya.”

Bucky frowned. Much as he was warmed by Gale remembering a promise he made what felt like a lifetime ago; and as much as something inside tingled and sparked at Gale asking him to one, he did wonder if Gale hadn't woken up from the same kinda dream as him. The kind that made it hard to fall back asleep and left you reaching for distractions.

But still, like hell he was going to pass up this kind of opportunity. “Well—well, yeah, Buck, of course. I'll take you to a game. “

“No.” Gale blurted too loud down the line. “No, I wanna take you. Like a…”

That tingling and sparking thing caught and used up John’s body like tinder. “Let me get this straight,” he sad faintly and cast a look at the hallway clock finally. “You’re calling me at three am, disrupting my beauty sleep on a work day, to ask me out?”

Maybe Gale’s blood was pounding as furiously as John’s, because that was the only reason he couldn’t have heard the delighted, tremulous, terrified disbelief in John’s voice.

Instead, Gale rushed out over the line, “No, no. I know. It was—God, I’m sorry, John. Go back to sleep. It was stupid—just—goodnight.”

John was left calling the dial tone Buck.

Stupid, Buck had said. Well, John felt everything he had ever wanted at his fingertips. If Buck wanted stupid, he would give him stupid.

It wasn’t far from John’s house to town, so he didn’t bother with a coat. He simply shoved a sweater over his undershirt and some boots on his feet and took off running.

By the time he got to Gale’s apartment building, the cool night had turned to fog, to a gentle spray, to a light rain. The thin pajama pants he wore started to stick, and his curls caught droplets of dewy moisture and sprinkled them on his face and neck.

He unlocked the door to the building with the key Gale had cut for him and headed straight for 1B. He knocked once and Gale didn’t answer within three seconds, so he let himself in the apartment, too.

The lights were out and Bucky headed for the bedroom, figuring Gale had gone back to bed to try and get some sleep. The curtains were thin and some strains of the street lights lit the room a little. John saw Gale, his back shoved against the wall, all bundled up like they’d never been able to do at the stalag.

He got close and gently shook his shoulder. “Buck. Buck.”

Gale woke quick and was upright in a second, eyes alert but mouth full and puffed up in sleep. “John? What’s wrong?”

Gale tried to get up out of bed but John pushed him back down. “S’okay. All good, Buck.”

“What are you doing here? It’s—”

“’Bout 3.20am. You never let me answer. On the phone.”

Gale cleared his throat and looked at his covers like they were some new textbook that demanded all of his attention. John smiled small and cheeky out of Buck’s sight and reached out to pluck up a strip of covers with his fingers to tease the material out of Buck’s grasp.

“Yes,” John whispered, smug and happy. “Obviously you can take me on a date.” He sat on the edge of Gale’s bed who now looked at him eyes wide and full of wonder. “But I want the whole nine yards: good seats, hot dogs, you desperately trying to follow along—the whole shebang.”

Gale smiled that same apple-cheeked smile from John’s dream. “You come all the way here in the rain to say yes to a question I chickened outta askin’?”

“Mhm,” John agreed cheerfully.

Gale laughed and collapsed back onto his bed. Only John’s damp clothes and the crumb of decorum he had left stopped him from collapsoing down with him.

“Thank you, John. I would love to take you out.”

“’Kay,” John said softly biting on his lip before collecting himself before it was too late. He stood up and slapped his hands on his thighs. “Well, g’night Buck. Sleep tight.”

He turned on his heels to make from the room and Gale called after him.

“John!”

John spun round, hand on the door jam. Gale looked at him, exasperated and fond.

“It is 3.30 in the morning. It’s rainin’. You can stay till morning.”

John shook his head, droplets spattering the wall. “You gotta wait for that, Buck. Your girl isn’t easy.”

Gale gave an amused huff and leaned his head back against the wall, before John’s words took root. He sat up at the gall of of the man and yelled through the open door. “Since when?!”

He heard John’s laugh even as the front door to his apartment swung closed.

[alienssstufff]

ANALYSING Q!SLIME'S FINAL BIRTHDAY GIFT [12/08/2023]

With the addition of the underground railway within the mines of q!Slime's Eggxile base, the choices on the birthday build (from the lead-up, the threshold, to the house itself) adds so much on to q!Slime's character as well as gives hints on the bigger picture of the Federation and the new wave of codes.

Prior to today's Birthday stream, the two significant builds in Eggxile are the Altar to Lil J and the Basement - two builds that represent q!Slime's religious devotion and his familial devotion respectively. I did an analysis comparing the two in another post HERE as a Part 1 - big recommend to read through that one before this one when you can!

This time I'll be going into detail specifically about the underground railway and how it represents q!Slime's 'devotion' to the island itself and the Federation.

long rambling ahead be careful [EXPLANATION UNDERCUT]

PREVIOUS KNOWLEDGE: Quick SparkNotes summary about Slime's way of building:

Slime's builds are simplistic, symmetrical layouts (preferably circular)

Comprised of mostly local, easy to obtain/manufacture materials

A lot of flora interior

NO security, little-to-no input from the Create-mod

These characteristics were derived from the similarities between Slime's existing builds of the Altar and the Basement. The uncanniness of the Birthday Build is that it is an extension NOT built by Slime, but instead is the Federation's attempt to imitate his style and forcibly insert itself into his life.

We can presume that this is the Federation's doing and by extension JuanaFlippa's current identity by the context clues during the scavenger hunt. The main giveaway being the location of the START placed at the QSMP Dinner Hall: the first sightings of the Egg Codes and the location of Gegg's assassination. The detail of the FIRST CLUE as well being Slime's train ticket to the island supports this theory in assumption that it was the Federation that both brought the original 17 residence to the island and is currently withholding the tickets themselves.

The scavenger hunt goes as planned, all in all directing Slime back to his Eggxile base. (Note the poster being placed IN FRONT of the school's only exit)

THRESHOLD BETWEEN THIS WORLD AND THE NEXT: Not much of Slime's actual base is touched in the scavenger hunt other than the nook in the Basement Slime had originally designed to be JuanaFlippa's area. Here it is decorated with the carpet, two chairs, and two presents. Everything before that (lamps including) was made by Slime.

After Slime collects what he believes is the last of the presents the lamps in the Basement are progressively removed directing him to the only other light in room being the black wool platform and chest. These lamps were destroyed NOT turned off. The contents of the chest read as follows:

Hostile architecture is defined as a design strategy to purposefully guide or restrict movement (targeting mostly the homeless. it sucks). And by limiting Slime's vision here is the first of many examples of the Federation restricting Slime's movement as the path progressively becomes more and more forced.

From here to the mine entrance Slime is still given a physical choice whether or not to follow the light. This is the Federation's way in giving Slime the illusion of free choice. 'You chose to follow the light' 'You chose to break that wall in the mines' 'You chose to activate the train carriage'

The train carriage and its small, difficult to move around, interior being the last direct choice Slime makes. It locks him inside and sends him on a trip that goes no where but down, deeper into the mines.

It's worth noting that originally these mines originally belong to Slime. He made this entrance and he was able to freely explore any part of these caves. What the train carriage does is give Slime a strict path to follow and a very limited window to look through - no straying from the path here. Look only where the Federation tells you to.

Given the connection between codes and trains, symbolically this can also represent Slime's gradual spiral (the shape of the tracks) into hell - the madness that is the island led on by the Federation.

JUANAFLIPPA'S HOUSE: The road ends at a small house at the very bottom of the lush caves. It's a nice house! Supposedly trying to replicate the arched partition walls in the Basement... But not quite perfectly imitating his style of build. The giveaways being its asymmetry and the choice of materials: a variety of different wood types, most NOT local to Eggxile (also the fake house just looks prettier wwww)

Here's the two houses for comparison (Slime's house is an 8x8 block square)

Stylistically, the vibe of this house given the location and purpose remind me of that one Cold War bunker in Las Vegas. An underground mansion designed to look like the outside world - a secluded, controlled paradise for a family to live in.

The confirmation that the underground house being a facade becomes clearer the deeper Slime explores the inside.

Normal interior. Normal kitchen. Normal table: 4 chairs (like the outside bonfire), 3 mugs (Slime, Mariana, Juanaflippa). Shelves like Slime's old house in Sacapuntas. A passageway in the wall leading to Juanaflippa's room.

All these things portraying the life Slimeriana and Juanaflippa could have lived. A happy family tucked under from all the dangers of the outside, far far away from the world. Until you look deeper into the cracks only to find out it was all fake, there is nothing back there. A mockery in disguise of a gift.

THE FEDERATION AND SLIME: Prior to the birthday stream with the assassination of Gegg, Slime had initially come to terms that Juanaflippa was well and truly dead and had told ElQuackity (a member of the Federation) that he no longer had any attachments to the island, and because of that would try to be himself. The Federation responded to this twice: the first being ElQuackity offering a position to work with them and ElQuackity win the Elections (this fails as ElQuackity is assassinated by q!BBH); the second being this birthday stream.

So far the Federation has not destroyed anything Slime has built but instead added on top of it. These decisions both give Slime a reason to stay on the island whilst pushing him to do things aligned with the Federation's goals shown by the gifts he gets in the scavenger hunt (Ghillie suit, landmines, grappling hook, dark metal ingots).

Interestingly the 2nd prize during the scavenger hunt is quite literally called the CHARLIE Flag and is the nautical symbol for YES. While the purpose of this flag is for whatever mission the Federation is about to send Slime on, this is also metaphorical as the only response Slime can give right now is YES.

Additionally the flag metaphor could be applied on the controls at the beginning of the tracks: Red flag both socially and in Nautical terms (BRAVO) meaning danger/carrying dangerous cargo.

These are literal red flags in the world in the architecture that are warnings to Slime that once he 'agrees' to these terms and conditions, life for him will only get more dangerous with no way in turning back. Deliberate decisions made by the Federation in guise of Slime's actions and the places he's impacted in the world.

In the end, Slime is a product of the early QSMP and how its history shapes a person and is represented physically by the builds he makes. By the interference of the new tech and prettier structures, the Federation overwrites Slime's creations against his will, creating a world unfamiliar to him - blending what is the truth of the past with the new, augmented present. In another context, change like this can be a good thing - but in this circumstance presents itself as an invasive decision into Slime's private life. This is the Federation forcibly applying itself as one of Slime's priorities in sacrifice of rewriting everything Slime has gone through.

[maya1525]

SUCK ~ & ~ F*CK 😋🍾

✩ Featuring Kamo Noritoshi ✩

18+MDNI

Pairing✩࿐Fem!Reader X Kamo Noritoshi

WARNINGS✩࿐Fem!Reader giving oral, unprotected vaginal sex, cream pie, sex in front of others, language, chocking, rough sex

Word count✩࿐1.6k

Summary✩࿐This is based on my original post: SUCK ~ GUESS ~ F*CK. But you know ahead of time whose dick is in your slutty mouth. Noritoshi drew Queen of Clubs ♣️

A/N✩࿐I always found Noritoshi to be easy on the eyes and was kinda taken aback by the lack of fan service he had! I always wanted to write a fic about him and I’m glad I was able to include him in mine! Feedback is highly appreciated, I love reading your comments! 😙💖

“The game is quite simple.” Gojo stated in a matter-of-fact tone, “You’re going to be blindfolded and will have to guess which man's dick is in your mouth. If you guess incorrectly, the man gets to choose which position to fuck you in. If you guess correctly, then you get to choose the position. To keep things interesting, you’ll suck dick for three minutes and get fucked for seven.”

You nodded your understanding as you sat on the large and cushy futon in Gojo’s apartment. He had planned on fucking you alone tonight, but your boyfriends wanted in on the action, plus they thought it would be a good idea to invite two of their friends, Mechamaru and Noritoshi.

You felt your cheeks warm up with excitement, never in your life, you’ve felt so deeply desired before. Everyone’s eyes were on you, especially because you wore a revealing teddy one-piece. Satoru bought it for you, and it complimented your figure perfectly. He even put a stunning custom collar on you, with a diamond-covered ‘S’ on it.

You couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed to be this exposed in front of Noritoshi and Mechamaru. You were familiar with both of these men, but you were still getting used to human Mechamaru. Muta was on the leaner side compared to your boyfriends, he had sharp features and a large and noticeable scar on his upper cheek. While Kamo on the other hand always seemed like a strong and serious leader among his comrades. The thought that he yearned for you just as much as your boyfriends made you wonder what he would be like when he fucked you. The thought made you anticipate his turn.

While you thought about those two men, your eyes were subconsciously drawn to both of them. Noritoshi sat on the far side of the sectional, his heated gaze stared you down hungrily. Beside him sat your boyfriend Megumi with a starved look in his midnight blue eyes. Next sat Itadori, he eyed you with such desperation, that it looked as if he was going to jump off the couch any second to get to you. Next to him sat Satoru smugly, his eyes gleamed playfully in your direction. Beside him was Muta, he eyed shyly with a faint blush on his face. To his left sat Yuuta and Inumaki, Toge was leaning into the couch comfortably, his violet-colored eyes sparkling over your stunning body with admiration and Yuuta had a similar look of awe on his face.

“Ok Y/n, I’m going to put this on you if you’re ready,” Satoru murmured, his gorgeous blue eyes gleaming down at you, while he wrapped his black blindfold around your eyes.

You were shocked at how you couldn’t even see small streams of light through it. You had always assumed that it was sheer fabric and that Gojo could slightly see through it, but you were mistaken. Satoru’s amazing Six Eyes technique is one to behold, he certainly is the strongest jujitsu sorcerer.

“OK, now that her eyes are covered, I’m going to hand each of you a playing card. Whoever draws the highest card gets to go first.” Satoru explained nonchalantly, as the sound of him shuffling the cards expertly made itself known in your ears.

After a short moment of listening to each man shift on the couch to get their card, Gojo spoke. “Now let’s reveal our cards.” You heard a few small sighs of excitement from some of the men, and you also heard some hisses of displeasure, assuming that they would have to wait a while until their turn.

Once you were situated on the futon properly and blindfolded once more, you felt two strong hands guide your face forward. You felt the head of a hot and ready dick pressed against your lips. You instantly deep-throated this man, you wanted someone’s dick to fill you up already. You brought your hand down between your legs to pleasure yourself. Not being able to orgasm with Mechamaru made you desperate for release.

As soon as you felt his penis hit the back of your throat, a low and surprised groan escaped this man's lips. You felt his cock throb against your uvula, causing you to gag slightly. With your other hand, you trailed it up his clothed thigh and rested it on his firm hip bone. This man seemed to have a more muscular build, with well-defined abs. You then maneuvered your mouth off of his rod and down to his testicles. Your slick tongue lapped at his heavy balls, and you gently coaxed his right nut into your mouth to suckle on. From this position, you felt his lengthy dick pulsate against the left side of your face.

The man above you growled in pleasure, you felt his gruff hands pull at your hair tautly, causing tingles of pleasure to shoot up your spine. You switched over to his left nut and began to slurp his ball into your mouth. You playfully tickled his nut with your tongue, causing a muted hiss of satisfaction to come from the man above you. Once you were done making love to his balls, you sensually dragged your tongue all over his lengthy dick. The man above you tugged your hair with approval while you licked him like a popsicle. You felt him pull your face away from his crotch, making you realize it must have been three minutes already.

“Are you Megumi?” You questioned as you lowered Satoru’s blindfold.

“I’m afraid not.” Snarked Noritoshi with a mesmerized look in his eyes, his robes were opened messily as his long dick stood up proudly. “But thanks for the wrong guess gorgeous, now I can finally enjoy you the way I want.”

Without warning, he abruptly flipped you on your side and wedged his knee between your thighs, forcefully spreading your legs apart. This gave him a perfect view of your slick core. Noritoshi expertly flung your left leg over his broad shoulder, so your legs were opened at a ninety-degree angle. He hastily moved your panties aside and plunged his rod balls deep inside you. Being invaded so suddenly made you cry out in surprise, you instinctively arched your back and clawed at the plush futon below you. He filled you so deliciously, you could feel your pussy clench around his dick with red-hot desire.

Kamo plowed himself into you relentlessly, each thrust jolted your petite body roughly. Despite his harshness, your cunt enjoyed every second of him inside of you. You felt his hand grip your jaw so you were looking at him. He lowered his body closer to yours and pressed his lips against yours ravishingly. His tongue slithered against yours with passion, while his hand rested around your throat. He squeezed your airway lightly, making you gasp for air in his mouth.

Noritoshi pulled his face away from yours to look down at you slyly, his hand still firmly pressed against your neck. You looked so perfectly slutty in Kamo’s eyes. As he choked you, a strand of drool slipped from your plump lower lip. Your cheeks were flushed and your captivating eyes drew him in like a moth to a flame, he could grow addicted to you. He loved how innocent and angelic you were in public, but behind closed doors, you were such a seductive little vixen.

As Noritoshi fucked you aggressively, the other men who watched intently were growing more turned on. Without realizing it, you locked eyes with Fushiguro, who stared at the both of you with a burning look of desire in his midnight blue eyes. You knew that your boyfriend was on board with Kamo railing you, and the three of you were planning something special for next weekend.

Kamo rammed his cock into you with immense power, causing you to whimper out with ecstasy, earning your attention. “Mmh- Nori- ahh!” You cried out as his other hand snuck its way to your clit, rubbing it in fast little circles. Sparks of electric pleasure ran through your body at lightning speed.

“Say my name,” Noritoshi grunted in your ear as his dick continuously invaded you.

“N-Norito-shi!” You moaned as his cock hit that deep delectable spot inside of you. You couldn’t help but get lost in pure satisfaction. You felt your release bubbling up to the surface, Kamo’s persistent rod kept bullying his way into you without faltering. Noritoshi’s sharp gray eyes were clouded over with lust, and his black hair messily fell in front of his face. He normally kept his bangs wrapped in white fabric, but on this occasion, you were blessed to see him with his hair down. Sweat glistened on his exposed torso, making his body look as if he was glowing.

“Damn…” he hissed in your ear, “you’re going to make me cum fast.” He growled as the power behind his thrusts became more erratic.

A tsunami wave of ecstasy exploded within you and you released yourself all over his dick. Which sent Noritoshi over the edge, he made sure to shoot his load extra deep inside of you. Lost in passion he crashed his lips against yours. Your lips moved against his with hunger, while you felt his hands caress your body possessively. His dick pulsated against your welcoming walls as the final strands of his seed emptied into you. You enjoyed being this close to Kamo.

Suddenly, the alarm on a nearby phone went off, signaling that Noritoshi’s turn was up, just in time. He carefully removed his spent member from you and helped you up into the sitting position. You could feel the mixture of his and Mechamaru’s cum slip out of your used cunt.

Noritoshi closed his robes and sat back down next to Megumi while keeping his satisfied gaze on you. Fushiguro whispered some words of approval to his friend.

You obediently put the blindfold back over your eyes and anticipated for the next delicious cock to come up to your lips.

Next

[stelladess]

EDIT: I only now found there are more complete translations of the new lorebook, that may alter things here quite a bit depending on if it touches on relevant stuff. Ill probably write a more easy to follow and updated version of this post when I got less schoolwork anyway so yeah. Arknights Theory: The nature of the Lord of Fiends powers and the purpose of the black crown. IDK how to spoiler and non of what I find onlines helps with that so just know... spoilers ahead. I also wanna say that I havnt double checked a lot of this stuff, I did for some of it but id like to re-read a bunch of this when some of the CN only stuff has come to global anyway. So take with a grain of salt is all im saying that I remember right since I dont remember exactly where to find all of this info, altough I will mentioned where I thought I got it from for various evidence. So tl;dr here is that I think Amiya´s powers is actually about manipulating originium, the memory, emotion and energy blasts (also making a sword) is all extensions of that and NOT fully distinct powers like some believe, also the Lord of Fiends has to have oripathy. Also the black crown was made by Priestess to eventually facilitate her resurrection and the reason doctor convinced Theresa to transfer her powers to Amiya was part of that plan. Now, why do I think all this? Starting on Amiya´s powers. While dialogue indicates some skilled casters *can* learn multiple types of arts, Amiya is not a skilled caster. She is very powerful but not particularily skilled at it. Her powers are ALL derived from the originium arts her oripathy and Lord of Fiends nature grants her. She also had all these powers pretty much from moment 1 it seems so it seems unlikely she learned it trough practice to do many different things. So its likely one ability that is just very broad in its usage, similarily to how Rosmontis´s powers work (if I remember right Kal´tsit even says their powers are very similar in nature). Amiya can do energy blasts, view memories and sense emotions... according to Kal´tsit in chapter 7 the way sarkaz prophecies work is basically that thoughts are stored in originium allowing other sarkaz to tap into the memories in that originium to calculate a likely outcome with multiple people´s brains. So originium can store thoughts/minds. And by extension memory would be a part of that. There is also clearly stuff relating to the dead but ive heard several CN server events have gone into that more so I dont wanna speak about anything regarding dead souls until that comes to global because I do not wanna go reading very complicated lore stuff in a language I dont understand really, so ill adjust or drop this theory as nescesary based on future information of course. So, then the emotions and memory stuff is covered, making the sword is also simple, its just made of originium. So the energy blasts? Well the main way originium is used is as a power source and its required to cast arts for those without oripathy (who have originium inside them to channel arts anyway). Another piece of evidence here is that Manfred could disrupt Amiya´s arts with his own, which seem to revolve around detonating or manipulating the energy in originium, allowing him to harm Amiya when she tried to gather up energy from nearby originium. When she pushes herself extra hard she probably draws extra power from the originium in her own body, which is why it has such a negative effect on her physically even compared to other casters. This, and a bit from the new lorebook revealing the first Lord of Fiends was the first person with Oripathy, is why I think the Lord of Fiends HAS to have Oripathy.

So, with that established, why do I think the Black Crown is meant to resurrect Priestess? First of all, the Black Crown or Civilight Etherna, is tech from the advanced precursor civilization (it was not found by them but invented by them, its directly referenced as a different project to the AMa projects, which is part of what Kal´tsit is refered to by certain beings in the know about the previous civilization, the crown also resembles Mon3tr in appearance). Its stated in Amiya´s module that its purpose is to store information, memories and emotion. And we know for a fact that they were capable of brain uploading, as seen with Friston in Lonetrail. Its original purpose was as a historical record, but that doesnt mean it cant have been altered later. Priestess is stated by Friston to have created Originium, something we will likely learn more about in the Victoria arc on account of certain reveals in chapter 13. Since Originium is so closely linked to the crown, by virtue of the first infected being the first Lord of Fiends, originium was clearly created in relation to something to do with the Crown. And well.. when Priestess put the doctor into the sarcophagus she said they would be reunited and their love would outlast the stars. Despite her seeming convinced she would die.... Kal´tsit seems to have been either created or turned into what she is now by Priestess too, or well by their people at least. But for dramatic convenience I think Priestess makes the most sense. I think the crown getting linked to the sarkaz collective unconcious/dead souls (this is the part im most uncertain about because there is so little info on this on global especially) was NEVER part of the plan. Since it seems likely the previous civilization created the ancients (animal people) to drive the sarkaz away (and also be slave labour, this isnt like 100% confirmed but there is some hints for this) I suspect they saw the sarkaz as lower beings and had never considered the crown would link up with them. So I think the original purpose was that some sort of great calamity fell upon their people, Priestess tried to store her mind in the Black Crown in some process that led to the creation of Originium and because the first person to down the crown was a sarkaz made her unable to do what she originally intended, possessing a later wearer of the crown and reunite with the doctor. This part is of course pure speculation as well with very little evidence, but it does line up somewhat. And I think some of the concept trailers supports the idea the crown can let someone store their mind to take over a later host (altough not with Priestess specifically).

So, fast forward to Amiya... she was born in Rim Billiton a normal cautus girl, her family were miners and lived on a normal landship in Rim Billiton... but one day disaster struck and the ship got destroyed in a horrible disaster. This is all gone into more in To the Grinning Valley but was already implied beforehand. To the Grinning Valley is also interesting for several reasons to this theory, they explicitly call attention to how strange it is that the doctor would bring Amiya with them after finding her in the wreckage. Saving her is in line with their behavior, but why bring her along? Its common in Rim Billiton for miners to adopt other children. Why not leave here somewhere? Why bring her with them to Babel? And this isnt just Amiya wondering or an outside observer, we find out from Savage that Kal´tsit doesnt know why the doctor did what they did. And whats more, Kal´tsit believes the doctor convinced Theresa to transfer her powers to Amiya, and since no previous Lord of Fiends had done so directly, the crown picked a successor, I think the doctor also taught Theresa how she could directly move it, circumventing the dead souls of the sarkaz will being imposed on the crown´s choices. So, why Amiya? Kal´tsit either doesnt have any idea why or just didnt want to tell Savage, but it is clear that she NEVER agreed with the decision. We have some ideas why Theresa did it, Amiya not being a sarkaz would mean she would be less strongly influenced by the dead souls and the lords of kazdel would refuse to follow her. Or at least chapter 12 and 13 heavily implies this was her motive. But why did the doctor want that? In To the Grinning Valley the question of if the doctor always intended to use Amiya for that from the start and grew to care about her over time, or if they took her in with no ill intentions and then got the idea later out of desperation, is raised but left unanswered because the doctor cant remember, and no one else knows why.

I believe the doctor also wished to undermine the crown´s link to the sarkaz, and that the plan was to use Amiya as a vessel for resurrecting Priestess. And it is an interesting topic, its often brought up how much even pre amnesia doctor cared about Amiya... but in To the Grinning Valley we focus a bit on the insecurity and uncertainty Amiya and Savage have about *why*. Savage telling an anecdote about a friend who went bad after fame got to their head and admitting she doesnt know which is worse, if the doctor did love Amiya and their circumstances made them so willing to trample over what they loved that they would force the black crown on her, or if the doctor had always been intending to just use Amiya for that purpose. And Amiya admitting she never knew why doc would care for her so much. And here is an interesting thing... in anything post victoria arc, we have NEVER seen Amiya and the doctor interact so far. Amiya is in Arturia´s oprec but otherwise she hasnt been on screen post victoria arc. To the Grinning Valley is set before it. The doctor has been doing all manner of things all over Terra in that time period, but Amiya isnt there with them, she is still with Rhodes Island is clear though. So... does Amiya and the doctor still have a good relationship post Victoria arc? Doc clearly cares for Amiya still, when Rosmontis talks about missing Amiya in Lonetrail (she had been away for some weeks or months, unclear) doc agrees that they miss her too, but they dont really go into any detail and are talking about both Amiya and Logos. Depending on what we learn in the later chapters of the Victoria arc, I could see Amiya feeling rather betrayed by the doctor. Not to the point of completely cutting them out but that it might still make her a bit more distant to them. I think it would be interesting to see how Amiya would take it if she learned that the doctor had originally intended to use her for very selfish end goals. Surely the thought has crossed her mind and she just isnt willing to entertain it, but if she learns something in the climax of the Victoria arc that shakes her absolute confidence in the doctor? That could be a pretty big deal. We already know Amiya has a habit of rather then accepting people wronged her first try to look for excuses. What Theresa did to her Amiya refuses to admit is wrong even when directly pointed out to her how messed up it was (chapter 8 Rosmontis compares what Theresa did to Amiya with what Loken did to her). She isntead focuses on how she must be failing to live up to Theresa´s expectations, an idea NO ONE tried to put into her head as far as we can tell. Altough it is a little unclear because she gets VERY defensive about it when the Damazti Cluster suggests she was forced into her role at Rhodes and given too heavy responsibilities to carry. Will she do this this time as well? Look for excuses why what doctor did was "justified"? But in chapter 13 she also finds meaning in rejecting the legacy of the black crown and that she will use its powers purely for her own ideals and not worry about what its purpose is. With that in mind how would that color her perception of finding out an even older purpose for it that implicates the pre amnesia doctor?

[tytoalbatross]

Ranking BG3 Companions Based On Whether I Think They Give Good Advice

1. Halsin

in all honesty, i would put halsin and jaheira tied for first place because it really depends on the way you like advice being given to you. halsin will first drag you outside on a nice hiking trail for The Talk, and depending on whether or not you like the outdoors will greatly impact his placement (at least compared to the other first-place). but his advice is extremely good ! he'll walk you through whatever you're going through (as well as the not-so-well-beaten path in the Woods) and give you ideas for how to approach it based on your personal experience. even if you didn't want to go on the walk and was upset about being dragged on a walk, you'll be even more angry after the walk that it actually kinda worked. 10/10

2. Jaheira

on the other hand, if you want (very good) advice being given to you closer to home, jaheira is undoubtedly your best bet. both she and halsin have the age and the life experience to help you, and she will especially be incredible at being both considerate of your side of things while also giving you brutal honesty whenever necessary. the only downside i can think of is that the whole thing will feel like you're being sat down and being given "a chat" by your usually very cool aunt. another 10/10 though

3. Wyll

what wyll ravenguard doesn't have in years he has in his wide range of experiences and whatever the faerûn equivalent is of binge reading sappy reddit stories. he's Very easy to talk to and even if he doesn't know exactly what to say to you after, he'll definitely sound like he knows what he's talking about. gives pretty general, safe advice and knows the ins and outs of a healthy relationship! however, wyll's advice will lack some credibility because he just. does not follow his own advice. especially regarding family problems

4. Gale

i'd like to mention that i'm rating these characters PURELY on advice. i'm not factoring comfort into the rankings whatsoever. however, if you're looking for comfort AND advice, gale might be decidedly awkward about the former depending on your relationship. which is understandable, considering he barely had any human interactions for a whole a year. no, tara does not count. for advice, gale will listen very intently to your entire problem, and you can see the gears turning in his head. "what" you ask. "well, i can't help but think--" and he just goes ahead and posits an entire gameplan to you. a very pragmatic and thorough plan, yes, but it may not actually be viable for you (pretty hit or miss)

5. Minsc

do i mean minsc or minsc and boo? i couldnt decide on a reliable ranking with boo involved, so this is assuming you caught minsc on the rare occasion that he's without boo. maybe he's taking a nap. minsc almost always suggests you go punch a wall about it. or punch the cause of your problems. it's not the best advice, but you might actually feel better after punching a wall. or punching the cause of your problems. and if he does give you specific advice based on your problem, it can either be surprisingly wise or a good blueprint of what not to do. win-win

6. Shadowheart

all of you people who immediately place shadowheart as the "mom friend" or caretaker of the group simply because she is a cleric and a woman; i am hitting you very hard on the head with a steel bat. shadowheart is unfortunately not socialized beyond her interactions with other sharrans (not an accurate representation of the average group of people), and depending on when in her character arc you ask her for advice, she may not even care to help you. even if she could. however, assuming she is trying to give you advice, she would do her very best to at least talk through the issue with you and suggest some. possibly questionable things. at the end of the conversation it just kinda feels like the blind leading the blind

7. Karlach

karlach is only so low on the list because i think she just wouldn't try to give you advice, at least not in any definitive way. she'd first and foremost trust whatever decision you'll make for yourself (even pre-emptively), and her first priority would be comfort. she'll do her damnedest to give you a hug (which depends on the status of her heart), and she will also suggest punching things. and she will join you ! you solved nothing but you do feel much better at least

8. Astarion

whether astarion even makes an attempt at giving you advice depends entirely on how much he cares about you. if he barely registers your existence, he'll actually try to tell you to do something, but it's godawful advice. closer to a shitty one-liner. if he does care about you though, his "advice" is actually more outlandish and ridiculous. regardless of whether there's another person involved, "have you considered just killing the guy?" and you stare at him like he just grew another head. but hey, you're not upset anymore! he might even be trying to get you to laugh and gape at him because "hey no normal fucking person does that" "but it would work?" etc. and you're even surprised into laughing because what the fuck. astarion will not give you good advice but, like karlach, you will feel at least a little better than you did before the conversation

9. Lae'zel

it even baffles lae'zel that you'd go to her for advice. you trot up to her tent at camp, with everyone else above fully ready and available, asking her for advice. "bold choice." then she proceeds to give you the most brutal, does-not-apply-to-non-gith advice you've ever heard in your life. is she trying? probably. is she used to giving advice beyond simply speaking her mind? not at all. if you're looking for her specific brand of "advice" or you're in the market for combat pointers, you might get something out of the conversation, but otherwise the whole thing just leaves you concerned about how gith society works.

[pan-magi]

Anime and Manga Comparison (Encore): Amon

I'm back at it once more, and this time it's at the beginning. Not the very beginning, but close enough! This time comparing the first dungeon. I talked before on the specific humor compared to action we see with the slimes. Now, I want to focus on the design of the dungeon itself.

I love the intro dungeon in the manga. It's great. I do appreciate the comedic timing and framing of some Ohtaka's panels. The manga also shows Alibaba's problem-solving skills better. He has the moment in the anime showing he knows Tran and is well read and can lie pretty easily. But convincing a rich petty man that has never done anything by himself isn't saying that much.

Alibaba is able to deduce the proper way to go is the path left unmarked. Not something particularly hard in retrospect. It is a common tactic to leave some kind of marker where you've been to avoid confusion He is smart to break out of the in-the-box thinking he and Aladdin were stuck in. They thought the markings were something left by the dungeon itself as clues to progress. A good ol' dungeon puzzle. It wasn't though. It was merely something left by former adventurers to not screw themselves over and get lost. Taking a minute to go "wait a sec" isn't that easy, especially in a high stake location like being stuck in a dungeon.

I love the parts in the manga that didn't make it into the anime. It is great, truly.

But goddamn is it Amon generic as fuck.

Spikes in a death pit? Ancient language that you should know or else? Bland stone corridors and caves with multiple paths you have to travel through? Slimes as the common dungeon creature?

It's so painfully generic. I can't even, lmao.

I get the impression that Ohtaka did not know what she was going for in depth with the dungeons. I don't mean that as lack of experience or planning ahead, but more-so as just wanting to get her series off the ground so she went with common tropes she knew her readers would expect and probably enjoy. A safe bet to work her story out.

The rest of the dungeons once she gets around to them have so much character. The second you're in Zagan you can tell: this belongs to an earth djinn. Baal as the first dungeon in SnB feels more standard but has more stuff going for it. I love the creature designs inside a lot of Sin's conquered dungeons.

Belial is an absolute mindfuck and I love it so much. It's a psychological barrage of confronting your trauma and biases because Belial more than anyone else has to make sure he has a King's Candidate that has their shit together. Then it fails miserably. It has to be my favorite dungeon in the entire series.

Amon has nothing on any of that.

The anime in contrast?

From the outset, in a way in which your ass will be fried if you don't pay attention, the lesson is clear: this belongs to a fire djinn. Be careful or you are dead. 10,000 have gone in and very few had come out. It's great. The dungeon had such a powerful glow up in the anime. 10/10 will recommend for certain death.

A couple other things that don't really fit into the theme of dungeon design. In the manga, Aladdin sits around and waits because the time dilation is different for people entering the dungeon. Something that isn't really brought up in the anime is that people travel to and from dungeons separately and at different rates. Anime Aladdin could have been there for a while. I doubt it though as kid would have drowned and been burned alive of Alibaba didn't grab him and bolt out of there.

The bigger more subtle change is how Amon is summoned.

Manga: Story based on Aladdin and the Lamp. Cannot not have the imagery of Aladdin touching the lamp (or its stand-in in this case).

Anime: It's the moment when Aladdin chooses Alibaba as king. The magi has made his choice, and Amon decides that is a definitive time to come out. That isn't something that is clear on first watch. Odd that the room would suddenly light up when Aladdin helps Alibaba up. It is easy to miss the significance with not being introduced to the magi system until afterward. On rewatch it felt like a sledgehammer to me on how blatant they made it. When the anime hits you with the symbolism, it goes all out.

About wraps it up this time. Next, I'll probably try to tackle the beautiful mess that is Zagan's arc changes because BOY DO I HAVE THOUGHTS.

Mostly how it is surprisingly well done but so many people come out looking dumber in the anime. omg.

[shkika]

So I've been hurting my brain thinking about this, and since you seem to be an absolute lore god about this game I thought I'd ask you for theories.

So NSH, out of the 4 canon designs you see in game, has the fanciest clothes of them, I mean he has a scarf and embroidery (I assume based on the sleeves) while the others just have a simple poncho.

Based on SRS' concept art mentioning that they wear a simple poncho to indicate a similar age to Moon and Pebbles, I assumed that NSH maybe was the youngest of the 4 and that newer iterators had more complex clothes. But based on how he speaks about being angsty as well in the begginning, comparing himself to Pebbles current behaviour it makes me think that maybe that wasn't the case. Maybe it's the other way around and older iterator have more complex clothing designs, but then it doesn't make sense how Moon is the group senior and he isn't.

Maybe I am just reading too much into it and it's just a matter of his creators giving him something more stylish.

ps. I love your iterator designs.

LORE GOD??? That is so funny that's an insane thing to call me, I'm very honored to receive this title. Though I am just a little guy that loves this game too much!

Anyway sure let's talk about that! I cannot say for certain what ponchos are based on design wise, but I can speculate and in this ramble I will also go over some iterator age shenanigans.

Ramble below!!

Let's go over ages first. Moon is easy to pin point as the oldest in the group. She existed when iterators were few in numbers and has the bad case of "we didn't think that far ahead" so she has some problems.

I'd put Suns after her if we keep the intent of their concept art being a vaguely similar age to LTTM. I think that is a very neat idea and it ties well with their parallels that they have in game. Aside the obvious Sun and Moon dynamic, they are both mentors to Pebbles. (sidetracked but it is quite funny how you could say Pebbles flew too close to the Sun it's quite funny. I would assume that's why SRS is named that)

We have no canon or out of game or pretty much any evidence (as far as I know) for either NSH or CW, but for convenience sake I'll put them after SRS.

Then actually I'd put Pebbles. I know he is often made out to be the youngest iterator and perhaps I am missing something. But even though he is much younger than the rest of the group , given how NSH speaks about him.

And I'd place Innocence as the youngest. She's not important in this exact ramble, because she has no canon design, but I know there are some people that might disagree with me?

The reason I think so is because The House of Braids (That you can see on FP playing Artis campaign) is well on Pebbles. So he needs to exist for the pearl to exist.

And this ancient from the House of Braids has apparently donated all their possessions to that project. The unbuilt UI.

Alright talked about their ages. So clothing? Well I don't have much solid evidence sadly. As underwhelming as that proobably is. You can take it two ways though!

You can discard what is being said on the concept art (as concepts can come and go when creating characters) and say that clothing has nothing to do with when an iterator was made and more so with the individual colony that built them. Colonies can be VERY distinct as we can tell from some of the broadcasts in Spears campaign. It'd make sense.

Or if you want to keep the ages= type of robe concept, you could say FP is an exception as he was made to be in Moon's likeness or by the same colony as Moon. So they wanted them to be similar.

Personally I find it funny if NSH just told his creators that he too wanted to be a fashion icon.

[mandos-mind-trick]

BobaDin A/B/O Teaser

Read part 1 of the full fic here!!!

Summary: Boba and Din met before his fall into the Sarlacc pit, after Din was stranded during his heat with no suppressants. They parted ways after, both of them content to pretend it never happened, except that's not possible for Din. Boba tracks Din down, only to find he's in for a surprise when he meets the omega Mandalorian once more.

Pairing: Alpha Boba Fett x omega Din Djarin

Warnings: A/B/O universe, implied mpreg, Boba's kind of a softie in this part at least, very AU post Mando season 2, fluff and cuteness but also kind of sad, named child character cause plot.

A/N: I posted this a few months ago but took it down after it kinda flopped. There's been some renewed interest in it today so I've decided to repost it. There's a post on my page regarding the universe this exists in and some background. I was in a mindset when I wrote this and I am very sorry. Also kind of cuts off awkwardly at the end cause I just...stopped writing at that point.

@rosechi and those anons from earlier made me do it.

He holds her close, closer than he ever has. All the times he had left her, all the times he had been forced to leave on hunts was nothing compared to the last few days. She had been taken from him by someone who wouldn’t think twice about hurting her. He had been careless leaving two children alone like that. He had been thankful at first that she hadn’t just been killed. Perhaps Gideon had thought it would only hurt him more if he took both of them. 

He had done what he promised he’d do. He had rescued both of them, and he had gotten Grogu back to his kind. Still, there is an ache in his chest, a hole forming as Grogu gets further and further away. As much as he wants to curl into himself, let his instincts take over, he has a pup to support. A distressed pup who had just lost a member of her aliit. 

He sinks into one of the seats, holding her tight against his chest. He lets his helmet drop to the floor, uncaring if the other two in the ship come down and see him. He’s projecting his scent a bit, trying to calm his pup. It’s a bit dangerous with an alpha close by, but he can’t care. His pup needs him. 

“Shh.” He shushes her, pressing her face against his neck. 

“I m-miss him.” She cries, clinging to his cloak. 

“I know.” He says. “Remember what we talked about? Grogu had to go back to his kind. To his own aliit.” 

“But he’s our aliit.” 

“Only for a little while, remember? Until we found where he belonged.” 

She continues to cry and he can do nothing but let her. It pains him to scent her distress, but she needs to let it out. The best he could do is offer her comfort. 

She cries herself to sleep, still clinging to him. He leans his head back, trying to process the last couple days. It felt like a fever dream. He had been so scared, so desperate to get them back, to make sure they were safe. He’s exhausted. 

Boba climbs down the ladder a while later. Din had put his helmet back on, needing to feel secure. Needing to feel safe. The alpha sinks into the seat next to him, removing his helmet with a sigh. 

“How is she?” He asks, glancing sideways at the pair. 

“Upset.” Din answers. 

Boba hums. “Losing a family member is never easy.” He looks at Din. “How are you?” 

“I’ll manage.” He answers shortly. 

Boba stares at him for a long moment. “What will you do now?” 

Din sighs. He had been trying not to think about that. What is going to happen now? He’d finished what he had been tasked with. Did he go back to hunting? It would be hard with Vira. He didn’t want to start leaving her for long periods again. Not after spending so much time with her. His instincts screamed at the idea of being parted with her again. Did he try to track down a covert? Take his place among Mandalorians once more? “I don’t know.” He finally answers honestly. “I haven’t thought that far ahead.” 

“Join us.” Boba says. “We’re going back to Tatooine. I’m going to take over Jabba’s palace, become Daimyo. Come with us. Let me spend some time with the pup I didn’t know existed.” 

Right. This was his pup as well. He’s not sure how he could forget. She looked just like him. Perhaps because it was a bit unreal still.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Boba asks after a moment of silence.

“I tried looking for you after she was born. Everyone I found said you were dead.” 

Boba leans back in his seat once again. “I almost was. I never thought...” He shakes his head. “If I had known, I wouldn’t have-” 

“It’s alright. I’m not sure I would have made it had you not been there.” Din adjusts his hold on Vira, easing her into a more comfortable position. “I wouldn’t trade her for anything.” 

Boba stares at her, able to see her face from the new position. A small smirk forms on his face, a quiet chuckle leaving him. “Those Fett genes are strong.” 

Din can’t help but smile under his helmet. “There’s no doubting it.” 

Boba smiles. “I’m serious.” He lets his eyes flit to Din’s helmet. “Come with us. Let me take care of you. Both of you.” 

Din leans his head back against the seat. Boba’s words strike something deep in him, all his repressed instincts flooding to the surface. He had been on his own for so long. Forcing himself on suppressants, holding every alpha he came across at arm’s length. He did it for himself, and he did it for Vira. 

Was this his chance to take a load off his shoulders? To share in carrying that weight of his instincts and his pup? Fett had proven himself loyal and trustworthy over and over again. Vira was his pup. He could take her if he wanted, and force them apart. Din knows he won’t. Boba knows how much family means to Mandalorians. Boba was offering them a place of belonging, a home. He would care for his pup, and Din as the bearer of his pup. 

Din doesn’t realize he’s crying, quiet gasps crackling through his modulator. Boba is crouched beside him, hand on the back of his neck. It’s not a cruel touch, it’s not a scruff like some alphas would do to control an omega. It’s comforting. Grounding. 

“Let me help you.” He says softly, thumb stroking the column of his throat. The touch is jarring, after so long without any touch at all. 

“I owe you so much already.” Din gasps out, the tears not stopping. 

“You don’t owe me anything.” Boba says. “I would have helped you even if she wasn’t my pup. If you think you need to repay me, do it by coming with us.” 

Din closes his eyes, letting himself just feel. He hadn’t been this close to an alpha in six years. He never thought he’d see Boba again, much less be working with him. He knows the restraint it must have taken for Boba not to march onto the cruiser and take out Moff Gideon himself to get his pup back. The pup he hadn’t known existed until just a couple days ago. He knew Din was the one who had to do it, was the one who had to protect his aliit. 

Boba could be aliit too. 

It would be so easy to let him in, to give over to instinct. He had been carrying the weight for so long. How nice it would be to let go for once. 

*****

He wakes in a bunk. For a moment he forgets where he is, what had happened. He’s back on the Crest, tucked into his bunk, the place that had been his home for years. But the Crest was destroyed. He had been on Boba’s ship, heading wherever after he had rescued his ade. 

He doesn’t remember falling asleep, or even moving to the bunk. Boba’s scent floats around him, muted a bit by his helmet. He resists the urge to take off his helmet, bury himself in the scent. Instead he turns on his side, the blanket that had been tossed over him falling to the floor. Something feels off as he lays there in the silence. 

Vira. 

He sits up so fast his helmet hits the top bunk, but he ignores the vibrations rattling his head. He hits the button on the wall, light flooding the small space as he steps out, eyes searching the ship for his pup. 

He doesn’t have to look long, finding Fennec standing in front of one of the viewports holding her. She’s staring out at the blue of hyperspace, eyes open wide and mouth agape. Din breathes a quiet sigh of relief, approaching the beta and his pup. 

Vira turns to him, a big smile on her face. “Look, buir!” She points out the viewport. 

He turns to look, eyes trailing over the giant creatures. “Purgil.” He says. 

She stares at them in awe, Fennec eyeing him. “Don’t work yourself up.” She says. “She was getting squirmy. You need the rest.” 

“I didn’t take you for the nurturing type.” He says. 

The beta gives him a look. “I’m not.” But the way she looks down at Vira says otherwise. 

“Will you be okay for a few more minutes?” He asks. 

“I suppose.” Fennec says, motioning for him to go ahead. 

Din climbs up the ladder to the cockpit, quietly sinking into the passenger seat. He stares out at the blue of hyperspace for a moment, watching it flash by. 

“We’ll be dropping out of hyperspace near Tatooine shortly.” Boba says, his gaze facing forward as well. 

“If I come with you, what exactly do you expect?” Din asks, trying to put his thoughts into words. He feels vulnerable in the presence of the alpha, even though Fett was nothing but relaxed. 

“I’ll need your help.” Boba says honestly. “Taking Jabba’s seat will be easy. Getting Mos Espa to agree will be the hardest. There will be a lot of pushback, I expect, not just from the families. The Hutts will have their own opinions. I need muscle, someone to back me up.” 

“It sounds dangerous.” Din muses. 

“It will be, at least at first.” Boba agrees. “I wouldn’t blame you for saying no.” 

“And Vira? I can’t afford to put her in more danger.” 

Boba turns to face him, and though Din can’t see the look on his face, he can feel the change in the alpha. “I may not know her, but I promise I will give my life to protect her.” 

“And me?” Din says quietly, his brain starting to buzz under the intensity of the alpha. “What do you expect from me?” 

“Nothing.” Boba says, turning back around. “It would be your decision. If you want suppressants, I’ll be sure we have extra. You’re always welcome at my side, even if it’s nothing more than as an ally.” 

******

Fett had been right. Taking Jabba’s palace had been easy. Despite Din’s insistence, Boba had forced him to stay on the ship with Vira as he and Fennec went in and cleaned house. Din is quietly grateful for the moment of rest. He feels weary, a type of weary he hasn’t felt in a long time. He could have forced himself to do it, but he can feel the exhaustion deep in his bones as he sits on the floor of the ship. 

It’s the same weary he had felt when he had been stuck without his suppressants. The same weary he’d felt after he’d had Vira. The same weary he’d struggled with after he decided to leave her in the care of the covert and returned to bounty hunting. 

He needs an alpha. 

His omega yearns for an alpha. 

He has an alpha. 

Boba had been forward in his implications. He would take that position, if Din wanted it. It wasn’t that Din didn’t trust Boba. He owed a lot to the alpha. Boba had been the one that found him stranded without suppressants, half dead after being thrown into his first heat in years. Boba had cared for him, fought against every instinct telling him to sink his teeth into Din’s shoulder, and got him on a ship back to civilization. 

He had also, inadvertently, given Din a pup. 

Vira had been born not long after the fall of the Empire. Din had waited a year and a half before he began his search, traveling all the places the bounty hunter frequented. He heard the same thing over and over, that Boba was dead. Fell into a sarlacc pit on the very planet they were on currently. Din had given up his search not long after he started. 

He knew he’d likely raise Vira by himself. If he had found Boba, he’s not sure what the bounty hunter’s reaction would have been. He could have taken Vira for himself, raised his pup as he had the right to do. Din had wrestled with that idea, but had ultimately decided to seek out the alpha, if nothing more than to just tell him he has a pup. He deserved to know. It was why he didn’t hide the truth from him on Tython. 

He could have lied. He could have easily claimed Vira as someone else’s. 

No, he couldn’t have, he thinks as he stares at the pup seated on the floor between his legs, pushing Grogu’s ball back and forth. He runs a hand over the unruly, thick curls that were messily pulled back into a bun. She looks up at him with those deep, dark eyes. She’s practically a carbon copy of Boba. 

A clone. 

She grins up at him, cheeks dimpling. That was his, or at least he thinks so. He’s never actually seen Boba smile. 

Despite the grin, she looks tired. He knows she has to be, just looking at her. Fennec had been right, calling her squirmy. She’d always been wild, always been on the move. He’d constantly heard it when he returned to the covert. She’s smart, but she can’t sit still. 

Normally she would have been all over the ship, exploring, getting into things. A chord of fear runs through him for a moment, something he hadn’t thought of in the whirlwind since they’d been taken. He knew the Empire needed Grogu for some sort of experiment they were doing. 

What if they did something to her? 

There wasn’t anything they could possibly need from her. Unless they tested something on her? He wouldn’t put it past Gideon to try and make him pay for taking Grogu not once, but twice. 

He can’t fight it, the building anxiety deep in his stomach. He feels like he’s spiraling out of control, like a ship about to crash. Vira’s smile falls as she senses the distress welling in her bearer. 

Din jumps as a hand lands on his shoulder. His fists close around the fabric of his pants, trying to steady himself. Boba is kneeling next to him, a hand on his shoulder. 

“Easy.” Boba soothes him, gently squeezing his shoulder. “What’s got you all worked up?” 

“What...what if Gideon did something to her?” He asks, looking down at Vira who is watching them cautiously. 

“We can’t know for sure that he didn’t.” Boba says, turning to look at Vira. “How do you feel, ad’ika?” 

She shrugs. “Okay. Sleepy.” She rubs her eyes. 

“See,” Boba says, helping him stand. “She’s fine. You need rest. Both of you do.” 

Din leans down, lifting Vira into his arms. Boba was probably right. They couldn’t know if Gideon did something to her. If it was anything of consequence, they’d have to wait and see if anything happens. He doesn’t want anything to happen. The thought of something happening to her because of his own recklessness has his stomach churning. He feels like he could be sick. 

“Come on.” Boba leads him forward with a hand on his back. “We’ve cleared out the upper rooms. Most of it was empty. Seems like most of them fled when Jabba died. Fortuna managed to keep a skeleton crew. We’ve cleared out most of them.” 

“I should be helping.” Din says, trying to distract himself from the panic building within him. 

“You can help by resting.” Boba says, leading him up the steps. “Like I said, this is the easy part. I need you at your best when the real fight begins.” 

**********

Despite his exhaustion, Din lays awake in bed. The sheets are clean, having been brought up by a droid, along with a clean change of clothes for Vira. She had fussed through a bath and dinner before Din let her sleep. The new clothes were a bit big, but they worked. He’d need to pick up some supplies soon. Everything he’d owned had been destroyed. 

Din had taken a bath himself after Vira finally fell asleep. He was used to going long periods without being properly cleaned, but it felt nice to wash off the last few days. The worry still lingered, but in a way he felt like he could force it all down, forget the horrors that had gone through his mind. 

His helmet sits on the ground behind him. He hadn’t been able to relax enough to take all his armor off. What if they had missed something? He can’t take that risk. Not right now. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to put the helmet back on. Not yet. 

He scoots closer to Vira, letting the soft scent of pup invade his senses. He hadn’t done it often, not since he left her with the covert. He presses his nose into her hair, letting the gentle scent flow through him. It’s the best scent in the world, or at least he thinks so. The scent of a pup before they begin developing traits, before they present. So soothing it could loosen even the most steeled beta. 

The scent calms the raging storm inside him. There’s nothing off about it, no change to it. It’s purely her, just as he remembered it being.

[imtooscaredforthis]

The Dark Side of Ghostface

AKA- Me analyzing Ghostface’s character after reading his tome in class 🤭🤭🤭

Spoiler Warning Ahead- Ghostface’s Archives

I’m not going to lie, I’m kind of a perfectionist. I’ve spent a while trying to analyze Ghostface and write him as closest to canon as possible lmfao- and this isn’t me trying to tell people how to write Ghostface..you can write him however you want, it’s just my interpretation…so yeah- Let me know if there’s anything I missed!

I- Daddy Issues + Origin

The only thing known about Danny’s family is his Father, who was also a murderer who loved to share horror stories, just like him.

His father was hard on him, told him terrifying stories of his kills, and was “as tough as nails” - and when your father is a serial killer, a man who’s already prone to lots of violence, you can guess the things he’s done to him

Still, Danny respected his father, but he did kill him, and his father was his first “design” - his first kill - and Danny felt ashamed of the way he killed him.

And for the nature v nurture debate for Danny, I guess we have an answer…both. Not only did he get his Homicidal tendencies from genetics, but his father literally taught him to kill too

Danny’s father affects his perspective greatly, especially how he views life and humanity, saying that humans are “intrinsic killers”

II- The Design + How Danny views murder

It’s easy to tell that Danny is a narcissist and a psychopath, I mean, he literally writes about his murders in the paper

He sees his murders as a story, a design, art, something to keep the suburban community aka the majority and the ordinary at unrest. He sees it as a favor, help keeping their lives interesting by scaring the shit out of them

Danny goes after the ordinary, someone most people can relate to, and someone who doesn’t deserve to die, because it makes it just the more terrifying

He follows his victims routines, plans out the murder in his head, pictures the kill, and the headlines he’ll write about it and then executes it

III- Personality + Pet Peeves

Danny is a perfectionist, but he also seems a little more restrained compared to the other dbd killers. He stalks his prey, holds back and plans his kill, waiting for the right moment…for the most part.

His “normal” personality- Jed is a charming and kind, but non-threatening presence and he knows he has to seem like that to avoid suspicion, duh, and easily manipulate people, so they’ll just be like “oh good old Jed, he wouldn’t hurt a fly” bullshit

But what really pisses Danny off when people don’t fear Ghostface, when they view him as an “urban legend” - OR when ordinary people or losers try to act like killers, like him (EX: “The three stooges” who talked about killing and had the pictures of killers up on the wall…killers that Danny admired and deemed “legends” and he went fucking crazy, stabbing one of the men in the face so many times that he was unrecognizable)

Danny wants people to take what he does seriously, he is aware of the impact of his actions, and what he’s doing, so if and when he finds out someone is laughing about it? Laughing at him? He gets pissed

So there are certain triggers that can make Danny snap, just like anyone else. But when he snaps…he becomes very violent, much more violent than usual

Because Danny takes his designs seriously, does this mean he’s a serious person? Not at all. He’s cruel, and taunts the men he kills in the arcade, and also the man he killed in the hardware store

He’s having a very fun time, as you can see here, humming to himself and doing his little taunting wave before he kills the poor man working at the register (RIP Cashier)

IV- Killing + Entity’s Favorite

Most of, if not all the things Danny does have to do with his design. He’s either writing, searching for his next victim, stalking his next victim, or killing

There’s not a lot of Danny’s life that doesn’t have to do with murder, especially since he was raised to be a killer

Which is why when he was a perfect candidate to be taken by The Entity. While some other killers have been brainwashed or turned into monsters, Danny’s mental state doesn’t change in the slightest, when you read the quotes of his add ons

In fact, he enjoys The Entity’s dimension. It’s a place where he can murder and stalk and do as he pleases, and doesn’t have to worry about getting caught or pretending to be normal. He can just be his murderous psycho self.

[fairyyeo]

snowman ❅ hwang hyunjin

pairing — bestfriend!hyunjin x reader

genre — fluff

tw — none

wc — 0.9k

a/n — xmas fic day four !! just a cute little one for today, please enjoy and dont forget to reblog if you liked it <33

————

christmas is a time of love. to confess love, to show love, to embrace love.

you were no exception to the influence of christmas on the overwhelming amount of love in the air.

the holiday season and its abundance of romantic seasonal films, music, and general notions were definitely taking their toll on you.

hiding feelings for a best friend was never easy. plenty of these sappy christmas rom-coms had taught you that. not to mention, every christmas song had you daydreaming about him, imagining it was him.

maybe it was crazy, maybe christmas was giving you a false sense of confidence and belief that it would end happily, like in the movies. but it wasn't about to stop you.

"hi, hyunjin!" you greeted him over the phone, the nerves in your body multiplying rapidly.

"hey, what's going on?" he asked, sketching onto his notepad intently.

"are you busy tomorrow? i'd like to give you your christmas present." a confession, is what that was.

"i'm not busy," he smiled a little, "what time should we meet? and where?"

"eleven o'clock, the art gallery, you know, the usual outing." you frequented the art gallery with hyunjin often. at first, it was a little dull—not your ideal way to spend time. but very quickly you learned to adore it.

originally, you didn't find it interesting, actually, you found it boring. hyunjin only needed to drag you to the gallery a few more times for you to start being moved by artwork. in fact, you'd once cried at a display.

now, you were certainly not the next picasso or monet (or van gogh or da vinci), and your art skills didn't compare to hyunjin's at all, but you dabbled a bit.

its the thought that counts, right?

"okay," hyunjin put his pencil down, "i'll see you tomorrow then." he was smiling to himself as he looked down at his finished sketch.

"bye, hyunjin!" you said before hanging up the phone.

————

tomorrow came too soon.

it was too late to cancel now, so you had no choice but to go through with it. because even if you didn't go ahead with it now, he'd go to the gallery sooner or later and everything would be spoiled.

hyunjin arrived neatly five minutes late, as always, and as always, he made up for it by bringing you a beverage. he mentally noted your favourite thing to drink each time it changed, and brought the updated favourite to you accordingly.

"hyunjin, hey!" you accepted the hot chocolate from him happily before hugging him.

"hey, ready to head in?" he asked, holding his own coffee.

not really.

“of course.” you smiled, latching onto his arm and walking side by side into the gallery.

you made your usual route, stopping by all of hyunjin’s favourite pieces. the two of you also checked out a few new displays, which you always enjoyed.

“so when do i get my christmas present?” hyunjin joked, raising a brow at you.

“yeah, yeah.” you laughed. “there’s one more new display i want to check out first.” you pulled him by the hand towards the back of the gallery.

you were immensely nervous. how could he not feel your hands trembling?

“it’s this one, over here.” as you approached the small painting, you pointed to it.

“wow.” hyunjin breathed. he leaned in closer to read the description on the plaque beneath.

this was it.

“wh—what is this?” he whispered, looking at you. his eyes were wide with genuine surprise, and his mouth slightly ajar.

you’d painted two snowmen next to each other, each having their own details. one wearing a top hat and the other a scarf. one was melting slightly from the rays of sunshine, it was shedding tears too. tears that rolled down and joined the slowly increasing puddle of water at its base. it had a somewhat melancholic feel.

the plaque read:

my snowman and me. i’m certainly no artist compared to you, but, this is how i’d feel without you in my life.

“it’s uh,” you shrugged, “meant to show how much i love you…”

there it was. the words ‘i love you’ had been uttered and you couldn’t take them back now.

“y/n.” hyunjin was teary eyed and he sniffled after saying your name.

“hey, don’t cry please.” you reached out to comfort him, placing a hand on his back.

“i didn’t know someone could love me this much.” he mumbled quietly as he wiped a tear away.

“i do, hyunjin. i do.” you smiled at him, leaning your face in closer insistingly.

“you wanna know something?” he chuckled, wiping another tear. he pulled out a folded piece of paper and handed it to you, “merry christmas.”

you unfolded it to see a coloured sketch of you, hyperrealistic. in fact, it looked more like you than you yourself. hyunjin had drawn it from memory—your face always prominent in his mind, allowing him to draw you with ease. he’d also written a short message in the bottom right corner.

merry christmas y/n.

i love you.

he’d finished it on the phone with you just yesterday, and spent hours and hours working on it before.

“you love me too?” you gasped, eyes scanning the beautiful sketch.

“i pretty much always have.” hyunjin smiled at you fondly. “christmas is a time of love, so i figured it was a good time to finally confess it. merry christmas y/n.” he wrapped his arms around you tightly.

“merry christmas, hyunjin.” you leaned up to gently kiss him.

hyunjin pointed to the painting as snaked an arm around your waist, pulling you close, “so, do i get to keep this?”

[fascinatedscrawls]

Phic Phight Prompt: The Box Ghost, aka the most un-frightening pathetic nuisance ever, is actually incredibly powerful compared to the average ghost.

Word Count: 1425

For @phantomphangphucker

Summary: There are a lot of different kinds of power. Some are easy to see and others - others take a little more perspective to understand. Of course, realizing that the Box Ghost was both feared and respected within the Ghost Zone is still a bit baffling even after Danny gets to see it first hand.

"Wait, wait, wait." Danny held up a hand to stop Ember before reconsidering and putting it to his own forehead in an attempt to drive off the headache he could feel building there. "Can you repeat that?"

"What am I, a wind up doll?" Her look of disgust made way for an eye roll when Danny dragged his hand further down his face to glare at her over his fingertips. "The Box Ghost will have what we need."

Hand now over his mouth, Danny wondered if he needed to get his ears checked. When she clicked her tongue at him and went to keep moving, Danny quickly followed her gesturing wildly.

"The Box Ghost? Really? As in, the guy who comes to Amity just to grab cardboard boxes and crates? The one who won't stop introducing himself and screaming 'Beware!' - that guy?" Actually, a thought occurred to him and he narrowed his eyes trying to fly ahead of Ember to try and read the truth of it off her face. "Hang on, does he introduce himself because he's trying to use some other ghost's reputation? Is there another Box Ghost out there?"

Ember sped up shaking her head as she sped through the Zone.

"Of course not, anyone would be able to tell that the imposter was lying. Or, well," she winced a little, "no one would believe that guy when he lied. I mean, he's not the best actor. Not everyone's meant for the stage, obviously."

"Obviously." Danny repeated, voice and expression flat before he remembered that he was here to ask Ember for help. Pasting on a friendly smile when she sent him a warning look, he tried for a little more clarification hoping that she wouldn't change her mind. "But how did he become the ghost to see?"

"I'm the ghost everyone wants to see." She reminded him instantly, striking a pose like she was getting photographed before waving off his fumbled response to that. "I know what you meant. For this type of thing it's more that it just falls into his domain."

"Like, a kingdom?" The Box Ghost had a whole realm like Dorothea and Frostbite? Danny almost breathed a sigh of relief when Ember shook her head.

"No, more like a website."

Danny wasn't aware that he could stumble while flying, but he managed it anyway. "Excuse me?"

"No."

Ugh. Ember was sometimes all the parts of Jazz Danny couldn't stand - a big sister without any of the care that made Jazz one of Danny's favorite people. At his groan Ember came to an abrupt stop and reached for her guitar. Danny almost brought ecto to his hands before he realized she was holding it out instead of readying an attack.

"Look, everyone has what they're good at, right? Like I'm amazing at singing and playing my guitar so when I play I can do things through my performance."

"Right." Danny drew out the vowel a bit, following but not really sure where this was going.

"It also means that things pertaining to my domain of Rock Star Sensation are more likely to find their way to me even inside the Infinite Realms." Flicking her fingers, she rolled a guitar pick down her knuckles in a practiced move. "That's why my guitar is always in tune and I usually have all the things I need to play it. Strings, picks, if they fall into the realms there's a good chance I'll find them."

So ghosts frequently found things that related to their obsession. Danny wasn't sure how true that was - that things find their way to the ghosts that wanted them rather than most ghosts only paying attention to things they were personally obsessed with, but the Ghost Zone didn't exactly run on any logic he truly understood so he was going to roll with it for now.

"And the box ghost-"

"Finds boxes." Ember finished his sentence, swinging her guitar back over her shoulder and starting forward once more, more noticeably following the path of a few other ghosts Danny could see in the distance. "And other packages, though he doesn't like those quite so much."

"He finds boxes and keeps them no matter what's inside, got it." Which explained why she was leading him to the Box Ghost for those supplies Frostbite was looking for. "How often does he find more boxes?"

Just how likely was it that Danny would find the laundry list of things Frostbite was looking for?

"Oh," Ember didn't even knock before pushing a double wide set of swinging doors open so they could step inside what Danny now saw was their destination. "Almost constantly, I think."

Goggling at the ghostly equivalent of a big box warehouse complete with rows and rows of aisles that practically scrapped the almost cavernous ceiling, Danny didn't even care that Ember was absolutely snickering at his reaction. "Where do they even come from?"

"They're every package that gets lost in the mail, I think." Ember answered, grabbing his arm and pulling him further into the store. "And there are a lot of lost packages these days."

They passed huge piles of boxes, each stacked higher than the Fenton Works Ops Center, many of which baring familiar logos from various online retailers. Danny snorted before his eye caught on a ghost reaching through the cardboard to triumphantly pull something (hedge trimmers?) from a box only to very quickly place whatever was in his other hand into the box in its place. Looking around at other ghosts who were sifting through the madness or bargaining between themselves Danny noticed something.

"Does everyone bring their own stuff?"

"Money doesn't really mean much here, so like everywhere else in the Realms this place runs on trades." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a few CDs some of which Danny vaguely recognized as being popular a few years ago, all of which wouldn't have fit in her pocket if she weren't a ghost. "The Box Ghost doesn't care about what's in the boxes so long as something is inside the box."

Danny's next question was forgotten as the Box Ghost himself burst intangibly through the boxes on the next aisle over, hands raised with a loud, "I am the Box Ghost!"

After months of being warned by the same ghost with nothing resulting from it other than maybe a few hours of annoyance as he chased the Box Ghost around town before capturing him, Danny watched incredulous as the smaller ghost the owner of this 'store' was threatening cowered, literally tripping over themselves as they searched their pockets for something to put into the box they'd left empty a few minutes before.

Around them the other ghosts scattered as the Box Ghost yanked the offender up by their collar, eyes burning bright and an surprisingly impressive wave of energy rolling off him that even Danny could fee,l before a figurine (in mint condition) was held up in shaky hands as an offering.

There was a pause as the Box Ghost blinked away his rage to inspect it. Then he snatched it from their hands and put it ever so gently back into the temporarily empty box. Giving it a satisfied pat, he then threw out a practiced "Beware!" before vanishing back to wherever he came from.

Danny watched the ghost he dropped snatch up their prize and shoot out the double doors before giving a knowing Ember a wide eyed look.

"Never mess with a ghost over their obsession on their own turf, especially not a guy who gets all his power from the ecto people give off his his warehouse." She warned him.

"But - he's so-" Danny struggled to put it in words. "He never does anything like that in Amity?"

"Not his turf is it?" The pointed look met its mark even before she followed it with, "Besides, you've got his kryptonite."

Baffled, Danny pointed at himself. Ember helpfully pointed at him too. Following her finger, Danny unhooked the thermos from his belt.

"For a guy who is all about boxes and other things cubic, the only thing worse for him would be a sphere."

Aaand there was the Infinite Realm's 'logic' catching Danny off guard again.

"I guess it doesn't matter how powerful he is if I'm always fighting him with the perfect weapon."

"Yep, now get searching. I don't have all day and this place doesn't have any sort of organization."

With a groan, Danny snatched the CDs from her hand and got to work.

[softie-rain]

Step On Me

Pairing: Sejanus Plinth/Coriolanus Snow

Summary: “It’s not easy for me, you know. I wish I was still alive, so badly. I spent, and will spend, all eternity wondering what would have happened if I had listened to you.” Sejanus spoke again, tilting his head to the side. “Do you want to know what it is like to love you, Coriolanus Snow?”

Notes: omg I am SO excited for you guys to read this one. It's my favourite, and personally I think it's very sad (cried while writing it) but I hope you will enjoy it! I'm posting it a day earlier as tomorrow I'll be super busy and probably won't have time to post <3

chapter: 3/7 (weekly updates!) prev. chapter

read it on ao3 here

“You look ravishing, Mr. Snow.” 

Coriolanus jumped at the voice, turning around to face the intruder.” “You need to stop doing that.” He said annoyed once he saw Sejanus, going back to check himself in the mirror. He fixed his hair and tried to tighten the tie around his neck. He groaned in frustration when he failed, not understanding how such an easy thing was so hard at the moment. 

It was all Sejanus’ fault, clearly, for distracting him. He gulped when he saw Sejanus walking towards him. He stopped right behind him, observing Coriolanus through the mirror and gently passing a hand on his neck, his touch ghostly, like he wasn't really there. Yet he could feel the warmth of his fingers on his skin, and though he hated himself for it, he relished it.

“Here, let me help.” Sejanus murmured, gently turning Coriolanus to face him and helped him knot the tie. He observed as the other boy's fingers worked quickly and precisely on the soft fabric. When he was finished he clicked his tongue satisfied, “Done!” He said, allowing Coriolanus to look at it in the mirror.

“How funny,” Sejanus laughed, “I tied the rope around your neck just like you did to me all those years ago.” 

Coriolanus’ eyes went wide at his words, blood running cold in his veins. His eyes immediately went down to his neck as if to check that it was a tie and not the noose, almost out of instinct. Sejanus noticed this and laughed again. “Metaphorically speaking, of course.” He added, with a grin.

Coriolanus scoffed and pushed him away, not amused by his friend's behavior. “That metaphor doesn't work, idiot. I sent you to death.”

“And you're about to get married. Seems like a similar fate to me. Although to be fair, I didn't force you to marry Livia Cardew.” He snickered, flopping down the couch. 

Coriolanus glared at him, irritated by his still so childish manners. He assumed it was normal, because Coriolanus had his whole life ahead of him to grow into the man he was slowly becoming. Sejanus didn't. But that didn't mean it couldn't annoy Coriolanus.

But he wasn't wrong about who he was getting married to. Even Arachne Crane had been more tolerable than Livia. Listening to her squeaky voice every night at dinner, talking about the latest gossip she heard during the day, was comparable only to being stabbed in the chest by a thousand knives all at once.

She was beautiful, sure, but Coriolanus was pretty sure he had never met a more superficial and boring woman than her. Yet she still somehow considered herself better and superior than everyone else. After that day's ceremony she'd become First Lady. That was certainly going to enlarge her ego even more than it already was.

But he had no other choice. Livia had been raised to be the perfect housewife, with all the fierce values to be a respectable rich woman. She obeyed Coriolanus and did anything he asked, never contradicting him or going against him. She played the part of the politician's fiancèe (and soon wife) perfectly, and she was excellent in pretending they were in love during their public appearances.

On top of that, Coriolanus despised her. Which made Livia the perfect companion for him. 

“I'm happy for you, by the way. If this is what you really want, I support you.” Coriolanus wanted to throw something at him, but he couldn't. Not without attracting the attention of the guards outside.

“Why?” He asked coldly, trying his best not to yell at him. Not even five minutes had passed since his arrival and he was already getting so worked up. 

“Because I'm your friend.” Sejanus replied simply. “I won't lie and say I don't wish it could be me promising eternal fidelity to you, and you to me, but to love is to be happy for the other, to cherish their wins. And I'm happy for you Coriolanus, truly am.” 

He wanted to yell, he wanted to scream at him, he wanted to slap and punch him until he bled, so maybe then he'd have proof he was actually there with him. Sejanus shouldn't be happy, he couldn’t be. He was supposed to be mad, upset. 

He was the one who was supposed to be wanting to yell at him, not Coriolanus. He was the one who was supposed to be angry, not Coriolanus. He was the one who was supposed to be driven crazy by the other, not Coriolanus. Why was he so calm?

“Why are you still in love with me?” He asked, hoping he didn’t sound as desperate as he felt inside. “Why? I ruined your life. I took your life.” No point in lying to himself anymore. 

Sejanus stared at him in silence, without even parting his lips to answer. He simply looked Coriolanus in the eyes, seemingly daydreaming. It was similar, he realized, to when they took history classes. During those hours Sejanus seemed to escape reality, getting lost in whatever memory of District 2 his mind could master up at the moment. He told him that once, when Coriolanus had asked him why he seemed so lost in class. 

“It’s awful,” he had confessed, “To hear him talk about the districts like that. He’s so full of lies, always telling bullshits So I just zone out and pretend I’m home- in district 2 again. If I actually had to pay attention to what he says, I’d have told him to go fuck himself many times already.” Sejanus had laughed it off. It was the first time Coriolanus heard him swear.

Coriolanus was brought back to their current conversation when Sejanus finally spoke. “Because I fell in love with you when you were a good person. I saw the person you could be, desperately and hopefully fell for him, and I never recovered I guess.” He explained. “If it helps, it hurts me as much as it hurts you.” He said, serious.

Coriolanus walked over to the couch. Sejanus shifted his legs to make space for Coriolanus, who sat next to him. They stared at each other for what seemed hours, without speaking a single word. 

“It’s not easy for me, you know. I wish I was still alive, so badly. I spent, and will spend, all eternity wondering what would have happened if I had listened to you.” Sejanus spoke again, tilting his head to the side. “Do you want to know what it is like to love you, Coriolanus Snow?”

He was taken aback by the question, unsure on what to respond. Did he? He definitely wanted to know exactly what Sejanus felt, but was he going to like the answer? Probably not. But as usual his heart didn’t follow his rational thoughts, it never did when it came to Sejanus. “Yes.”

He sat up, legs crossed and now he was face to face with Coriolanus. “If I had the chance to do it all again, my head would be filled with doubts: would I help Billy Taupe? Would I still help them arrange that girl's escape? Probably not. Not if I know that I will die. And I feel so much shame for it.” Sejanus’ tone was low, almost as if he was shy and scared of what he was telling. He made it sound like a secret, one he wouldn’t even tell his ma’. 

“But that taunting shame,” He continued, “It’s nothing compared to having the certainty that if you had a second chance, you’d still turn me in. Every single time. Maybe you’d think about it, but each time, each second chance you might get, in every universe, you’d still press that recorder. You’d still betray me like you did the first time. Because your love for power is so much stronger than anything beautiful and happy you’ve known in your life. And I’d still love you.” 

His words hurt so much. They were daggers getting thrown at his back, he felt like his heart was being ripped out from his chest and Sejanus was stabbing it, smiling while he did so, and Coriolanus couldn’t do nothing but stare and let the boy utterly destroy his heart and soul, like he always did.

Coriolanus would like to yell that he was wrong, that he would never do it again, not when he knew the outcome of his actions. But, for the first time in his life, Coriolanus couldn’t lie to Sejanus’ face.

He was so focused on his own feelings he didn't notice immediately that Sejanus was crying. The perfect, calm and quiet mask he put on for each one of their encounters finally fell down. Now he could see him for the desperate, small and scared kid Sejanus truly was, and if he wasn’t as hurt as he was Coriolanus would smile in satisfaction at the scene. But he hadn't yelled, which left a taste of disappointment on Coriolanus’ tongue. 

“Sorry about the waterworks.” Sejanus apologized, sniffing and wiping away the tears. “I guess seeing the love of your life getting married to someone else has this effect.” He chuckled, trying to stop the tears from coming out. Coriolanus didn't know what to say. 

So instead he acted upon instinct and took Sejanus’ face in his hands and leaned in, kissing him.

Kissing Sejanus was nothing like what he expected, but then again he never really thought about what it would have been like. Not enough times to have a vivid image of his expectations anyway.

It was a wet kiss. He gave the fault to Sejanus salty tears for that, but he was weirdly drawn into his lips even more because of it. 

Coriolanus could feel that the other one clearly wasn't expecting the kiss, too surprised to kiss back at first. But it only took Coryo to caress his chin with his fingers for Sejanus to immediately reciprocate the action. His hand flew to the blonde's waist, pulling him closer. Coriolanus didn't mind, and instead sighed on his lips at the touch.

“Is this considered cheating?” He mumbled, pulling away for air. Sejanus was clearly much more touch starved than he was because he immediately pulled Coriolanus back in his arms, accidentally (or was it on purpose?) making him fall on top of him on the couch. 

Sejanus shook his head and, in between kisses, replied. “Not really. I'm dead, am I?” Ignoring the fact that rationally Coriolanus was probably making out with thin air instead of the pretty boy laying below him he nodded, as if it made total sense.

He was about to get married to a woman he loathed, it sounded only fair to him to have a few last moments of freedom before walking towards his cruel destiny. 

Coriolanus obviously knew it was his own doing, and he wouldn't change his mind about the wedding. It was a small sacrifice he had to make, for his greater purpose. That didn't mean he couldn't wish it was Sejanus he was about to spend the rest of his life with.

For some absurd reason when their lips touched the chaos of thoughts he heard in his head stopped. The storm he had inside ceased, and for once Coriolanus was at peace. 

He didn't feel guilty, not one inch of his body felt any shame for what he was doing. He didn't even care that he was being weak in front of Sejanus again. For that there'll be time later, right now he had to taste the moment as best as he could.

He wondered how Sejanus was feeling. Or, how the real Sejanus would have felt in that situation. Was what was happening a realistic representation of the real Sej if he had ever grown the guts to kiss him when he was still alive? He didn't have time to ponder on the thought more because Sejanus pulled away.

Coriolanus tried to chase his lips again, but he stopped him holding his index finger in front of him. He frowned confused, wishing Sejanus would just go back to kiss him already, when instead he parted his lips to talk

“You need to go, Coriolanus.” He whispered, as if anyone could have heard him if he spoke louder. “You have a wedding to attend.” 

It took all of Coriolanus' self-control not to slap him. Why would he bring that up now? Sejanus gave him one last peck, and he was about to protest when a knock on the door grabbed his attention.

“President Snow? You've been there quite a while now. Is everything alright?” 

“Yeah, I'll be out in a minute.” Coriolanus said. He looked down again to give one final glance at Sejanus, only to find him gone already. He was going to fire that peacekeeper.

[sushisocks]

cmon you cant just say how queercoded sean is and then not expand on itผ(•̀_•́ผ)

/lh

My need to constantly talk about Sean MacGuire is really being indulged lately jnhbvbjnbh Thank u dear anon <3

oKAY so like, anon, I will be the FIRST to admit that me calling Sean queercoded might've been a strong choice of words all things considered (especially compared to ACTUALLY explicitly gay Bill Williamson which could go for queercoding considering it's only really explicit if you look for it or catch it). I read Sean as queer in a lot of ways, and that is probably in no small part because I'm queer myself. BUT in my defense, what am I supposed to take away from the developers cuffing Sean's jeans like that?? His queer little swagger???? The outfit with that haircut?????? That is a BISEXUAL MAN if I've ever seen one!!!

^me rn fr (always, about Sean and Lenny in particular. My gay Lenny headcanon is a lot more solid though, I'll be frank, and I'm honestly waiting to go the fuck off about it properly here some day lmao)

On a more serious note though, I definitely think Sean's admiration for Arthur can be read as a little bit of a crush in certain instances. Not that I particularly ship that pairing, but certain ways Sean responds to Arthur has always had me 🤔🤔 For example (and I'm really gonna out myself and how often i rewatch his missions here) in pouring forth oil, when Arthur gets mad forreal for a sec and threatens Sean (after Sean has a tantrum abt not being invited along which.... come on), and Sean laughs, there is DEFINITELY a crush-related way of reading that interaction & Sean's response. Not to mention the lil lookover Sean gives him I mean COME ON he's not even that subtle!

Not to speak of the fact that the first thing he does after being rescued from bounty hunters is ask Arthur for a hug - how many of yall Arthur Morgan horny ppl wouldn't die to do the same? Sean was ahead of the game. He's one of you, I swear.

I think Sean being queer makes sense with his personality too, as the sort of laid-back and easy-going one. Though I also think, given the time and the fact that I think he's bi, it's probably not smth he's ever thought very hard about? You know, heteronormativity etc etc, him and Karen having their messy thing going on etc etc, but Sean WOULD kiss a homie and not really have a problem with it. He'd just -- not think about it much harder, you know?

It's that same attitude he has, which leads me to believing if given the chance he'd be very gnc. I know I've said it before but I do headcanon that modern au Sean would def fuck around with skirts and makeup and nailpolish, and have a very loose relationship with his gender as a man at best. It makes sense to me, for someone who is both that easygoing, and has that sense of interest in societal issues, to at some point have the realization of 'oh gender roles are made up' and act accordingly, you know?

And then I'm also taken with, and sort of speaking from, this sort of perspective of the gang at large as very queer. Speaking of it in that academic way, as a sort of rejection of normative society - heteronormative society in particular - there's absolutely an inherent queerness to this entire gang of outlaws doing as they will. When being queer has always meant being ostracized from society, it is easy to read characters ostracized from society as queer; in this way, and in my opinion, the queercoding is inherent to this game, and these characters. It's there at the very foundation of their situation and way of living, and it's why I personally am never going to argue against any type of queer headcanon (and why I'm a proponent of many of them myself lol). Me seeing queerness in Sean and Lenny, is no different from me seeing it in Arthur and Charles, or Sadie and Karen, or Hosea and Dutch, or literally ANY other gangmember.

I feel like I went on a tangent here, again, as I am prone to do, BUT my main point is: Sean MacGuire is so so queer bcz I said so, and becuase why the fuck else would he be like that?

[ilyrafe]

𝒓𝒆𝒅𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒚 ✧ 𝒄𝒉 𝑽𝑰𝑰 (reposted)

pairing: charles brandon x duchess!reader

warnings: angst, abusive behavior

word count: 2,7k

taglist: @runawayolives​​ @kmuir1​​ @marytudorbrandon​​ @lharrietg​​ @shittingdicknipple​ @alexa-fangirl-forever​​ @mis-lil-red​​ @amberangel112​ @ohmygoodie @itmejado​​ @radaofrivia​​ @scarlets-widow​​ @ragamuffin285​​ @thereisa8ella​​ @titty-teetee​ @dropletsofkaisoo​ @kebabgirl67​​

redamancy masterlist | main masterlist

a/n: hi hello i am a dumbass while deleting a few posts i accidentally deleted the original 7th chapter, but since i still had a google doc with the original story here i am reposting it !

the dry, golden leaves fall from the trees, decorating london’s streets and roads in the first days of september. the wind is cooler, but it is not able to prevent children from continuing to play in the streets of the villages where they live. the days are getting shorter, however, which may be good for some, but less so for others.

charles has been restless since the kiss. it feels like stepping on eggshells, and he hates it, but he knows he can’t pressure the duchess into anything. he still doesn’t know how to read her, so he can’t really tell where she is at, where she stands in relation to him. the duke can’t deny that he finds y/n a bit moody, but compared to king henry, charles knows how to handle her better than his friend and sovereign. there is still a barrier between them, but little by little, the bricks are being removed.

he’s hopeful, though. he’s putting a lot of effort into their relationship - whatever that may be. would he like to be in a romantic relationship with the duchess and live his married life properly? absolutely, but as he gets to know her better, he wouldn’t be upset if they end up being friends. either way, all he wants is to have her in his life.

the duchess remains in conflict with herself. as she documents her journey in her diary, she finds herself wondering if it’s worth putting charles through this, because she knows it’s unfair and that it’s clear he has feelings for her. it’s conflicting and distressing, because she knows she’s giving in little by little. she can’t say she still loves james, but also can’t say she doesn’t, as the memories are still fresh in her mind, and it was those memories that kept her sane during these months of marriage. her head is a mess, and she just wants to be able to breathe in peace, knowing that james will be bitter.

getting close to charles, even out of petulant interest, has been interesting. now they have all three meals together, they go out riding either early in the mornings or after dinner quite frequently, and she feels genuinely comfortable around him. admitting you’re in the wrong is never easy, and despite having apologized to him for being so harsh, she still feels a little guilty and indebted to him. the problem now is that she feels in doubt about her revenge, because she has involved a person who doesn’t deserve to be in the middle of something he has nothing to do with and she knows he’s harboring real feelings for her.

her eyesight is blurry and her eyes are heavy. the duchess stretches, closes her diary and blows out the candle on the table, that gently lightens the spot. the moonlight remains illuminating the room, and as she lies down on her bed, she closes her eyes, praying for strength to go on with the mess she herself created.

(...)

the day dawns just slightly cloudy, the sun decides to appear, although quite shyly..

in his bed, the duke takes a little while longer to get up. today is his birthday, and despite the day being his, it is perhaps the busiest day of the year, as the royal court, his subjects and his friends and family want his attention to congratulate him for another year of life. unlike other years, charles has decided not to celebrate with a party, as a war is imminent and he doesn’t want any more distractions.

after a long delay, charles is finally ready for the busy day ahead. does she know it’s my birthday? he laughs at himself as he finds himself thinking about her again.

when he arrives at the salon for breakfast, he finds the duchess promptly seated, waiting for him. with each passing day she gets more beautiful, and he doesn't know how that's possible. it’s as if she had an angelic aura around her that hypnotizes him. he’s completely head over heels.

“oh, good morning!” she smiles brightly.

“good morning, dear wife. i apologize for taking so long.”

“it’s no trouble.” she shrugs. “um… i hear it’s your birthday today.”

he chuckles as he pours honey into his fruit salad.

“yes, it is.”

“while i find it quite insulting that you didn’t tell me and i found out this morning, i wish you the best.” she says with a shy smile on her beautiful lips, the ones he prays he gets to kiss them again.

“thank you.”

“i assume a party will be held here…?”

“oh, no. not this year.” he explains. “i believe i’m too old for birthday parties,” he says humorously, and she chuckles. “it’s a waste of money and even if i were to host a party, certain people would have to come and we do not want that.”

“oh,” y/n recoils in shame. “i am utterly embarrassed about it.”

“no, please, don’t. my concern is about you, not me. i would never do anything to harm you.” he’s quick to assure her. he places his hand on hers and gives it a light squeeze. “um, i would like to celebrate my birthday, though.” he grins.

a pleasant smile appears in her face, and it’s enough to make his heart skip a beat. “how?”

“tonight, we’ll have dinner.”

“we have dinner every evening.” she chuckles to disguise her confusion.

“i know, but we’ll have a cake, and there’s no one else i’d rather celebrate today with.”

oh.

y/n is taken by surprise by his words. she had no idea her plan would work so quickly.

“alright. i’ll see you tonight, then.”

(...)

his anxiety for dinner makes him feel that time is deliberately passing slowly. as he expected, his day is full of commitments. lots of documents to sign, he has to send his men for training for the imminent war against france, and has to make time to receive gifts and messages from his friends.

on his desk, there is a small print of him with the duchess on their wedding day. charles is standing before the duchess who is sitting on a chair. both have serious expressions on their faces, and even though it’s a painting, he can see his wife’s sad semblant. she was stunning that day, though. her dress was beautiful. although he is glad they are getting along today, he would love for their wedding day to be a happy one. he acknowledges that he wasn’t much satisfied either, and he did expect a loveless marriage, but didn’t anticipate how turbulent the first months would be.

a knock on the door to his office takes him out of his thoughts.

“your grace, your majesty is here.” one guard announces and henry steps into charles’ office.

“my dear friend! i came here to congratulate you on another year of life!” the king exclaims.

“thank you, your majesty.”

“oh, stop that.” henry waves it off, making charles laugh. “what are your plans for today?”

“well, as you can imagine, i have a lot to do.”

“are you not celebrating your birthday?” the king inquiries.

“not this year.” charles sighs as he makes his way to his chair, behind his desk. “we need resources for the war, i don’t think it’s smart to waste it in a party that next year i’ll be celebrating anyways.”

“you speak as if your best friend isn’t the king of england, your grace.”

charles scoffs, quite amused by henry’s way of thinking. the king despises limits; the more, the better. there’s nothing he wouldn’t do to get what he wants. the war was provoked by him, and charles, being the army leader, has to take part in something he loathes, all because he couldn’t bear to lose henry’s love and admiration. not having any siblings alive, henry is the brother he never had.

“we’ll celebrate properly when we come victorious from this war.” charles promises.

“oh, i have no doubt our army is in good hands.” henry smiles. “just so you know, annika has left to sweden, but her husband james is staying. he is already in training and i’ve been told he is excellent. i’m glad he is on our side.”

“um… i’ll keep an eye on him. he’s never been to war before, we don’t want him to die on the field.” charles lies. “if he shows us a good performance, i’ll award him with something.”

“oh, you’re generous, my friend.”

after much research, there’s no way he could keep james out of the war. there is nothing he could say, the king seems to like him a lot. a parasite.

(...)

after a busy and chaotic day, charles finally gets ready for dinner with his wife. he chooses his best clothes and when he goes down to the dining room, he doesn’t find her there. in fact, the table isn’t even set.

“where is y/n?” he asks.

“she is in the garden awaiting for your grace.” a servant says, and her smile tells her that something good is ahead.

charles makes his way to the garden and finds y/n sitting on a smaller table. she looks beautiful as always, her soft blue dress is gorgeous, and her jewels shine when moonlight hits them, giving her a special aura. she’s properly dressed for a party, even though it’s just a simple dinner, but he loves it. the moon is shining bright, and although it is a bit cold, the weather is overall lovely. it’s all perfect.

“i thought you’d forgotten about this.” she laughs.

“i wouldn’t dare.”

they both sit across from each other and the servants begin to serve them. charles is enamored, and he knows he looks stupid.

“i am sorry you weren’t able to have an appropriate birthday celebration,” she laments. “i took the liberty of making a present for you, i hope it is to your liking.”

“what is it?”

charles feels like a boy again, his curiosity always taking over his mind. a servant returns to the table with a small cake in hand. he places it in the center of the table and the duke’s mouth waters. he loves desserts, especially cakes.

“i’ve heard you have a sweet tooth, and that you particularly adore chocolate nut cake, so i decided to bake you one. i hope you enjoy it.”

the duke breaks the little chocolate nut cake and the taste is divine. of all the chocolate nut cakes he’s ever eaten, this one is the best. the best of the best. she can’t help but let out a laugh when she sees the duke sighing and letting out a brief moan of pleasure as he delights himself with the dessert.

after enjoying the cake, both go for a walk through the immense countryside, accompanied by the moon and the glow of the stars. it is increasingly difficult for charles to keep his feelings to himself, and he senses that she may be feeling the same. the change in her behavior is sudden, but it’s a good change. she wouldn’t bake him his favorite cake if she didn’t like him in the slightest… would she?

“i must say, this was the best birthday i’ve had in years. a grand party couldn’t make me as happy.” he says with a grin.

“i am glad to hear that.”

he stops in the middle of the path and holds her hands. 

“and i must admit that i didn’t expect to fall in love with you so quickly.”

charles’ heart is in his mouth, because he doesn’t want to be rejected by her, but to his surprise, the duchess smiles. she looks a little shy, but he would dare say she seems happy to hear his confession.

y/n is surprised, as she  didn’t think he would admit his feelings so soon. her plan is working out too quickly, which can be worrying.

with the recognition that her goal is getting closer to being achieved, y/n approaches and presses her lips against his. charles wastes no time and matches her advance. her lips taste like wine, which makes him just a tad drunk. both of her hands are pressed against his chest, and even with so many layers of clothing, she can feel his heart pounding. knowing she has a special power over a man like him is tempting, she can’t abuse it.

continuing with the “girl repentant of her mistakes” guise can be tricky, but she got to the crucial part of her plan, and if she’s sincere, it wasn’t exactly difficult, it was just… morally devious.

somehow, y/n has internalized that there is nothing more she can lose. her anguish is so deep that she fails to recognize herself. her sadness and disappointment are so strong that they have left her numb, making her not feel the impact of her actions. although she is fully aware that her plan is petty and childish, it’s the only thing that keeps her alive, and it’s sad that her motivation for living is a deep hatred of both james and herself.

“please, give me a chance. i can make you happy.” he asks in a whisper as he leans his forehead against hers, rubbing the tip of his nose against hers, making her smile again.

for a brief moment she lets herself believe charles’ words. as true as they are, she knows they were only said because of her false intent. it hurts because she had heard those words before, and only suffering followed.

“yes.”

(...)

in her quarters, y/n reflects on the night she had. her head is beyond tormented.

already in her sleeping clothes, she goes to her bed, but a noise at the window disturbs her. as she opens the curtains, she finds james struggling to keep himself on the parapet outside. she needs to stifle a scream that almost escapes her lips. her body shudders, size is the scare she takes.

she opens the window and lets him in, seeing no other option. the man drains and is panting.

“what are you doing here? how did you get in here?” she whispers in desperation.

“i needed to see you, my love.” he gasps. “i missed you terribly.”

he tries to kiss her, but she steps back.

“i am not your love anymore.” she scores. “i thought i was clear enough when i said i do not want to see you ever again.”

“you know you love me, y/n.” james says with conviction, one that is appalling. “i will duel him if necessary to have you back.”

“you have lost your mind.” she scoffs.

james makes himself comfortable on a chair and takes in her room. her room alone is much bigger than the house he planned on acquiring.

“why did you marry a swedish duchess?” she asks.

“i needed to get to you.” he says. “i met annika and as soon as i learned that she was a royal, i made her fall in love with me. it was the only way i could get to you, and for you, i’ll do anything.”

his tone is frightening, only because he’s saying what she has been doing. realizing she’s not much different than him breaks her heart in tiny little pieces.

“does she know about us?”

“no, absolutely not.” he urges. “of course, she found it quite strange when you stormed out of the queen’s birthday party, but it was no trouble, i handled her.”

james’ eyes are troubled, and she’s never seen him like that. for the first time she’s scared of him, and she isn’t so sure if she is that safe around him.

“you are insane.” she says, more to herself than to him. “james, i mean it. we are no longer together. i don’t love you anymore.”

“you’re mistaken, my love.” james insists with a terrifying smile, as he approaches her figure. he holds her in his arms, but her body is frozen in fear. “i promise you. we will be together in the end, y/n. whether you like it or not, we’re meant to be together and you know it.”

“all i know is that i am your worst enemy now, james. not charles, not my father. me. cross my path again and you’ll see what i am capable of.”

outraged, james lets her go and leaves her room by the window, where he came from.

while the duke sleeps happily in his bed, the duchess is unable to shut down her mind for a few moments. now she fears for hers and charles’ safety.