#and it's going to influence how he thinks of fate and divinity if he knows that he could have been Kiro But For Titans

[utilitycaster]

Related to the last post, I haven't said anything because I need to sit with it and see how Ashton responds in the long-term, but man, it's got to be absolutely earth-shattering (pun genuinely unintended, I can't come up with a better word for it) to be so angry at the concept of fate, or at how the gods never helped you, and then see a vision of the version of you where things went "well" and realize that in that version of the world, you fucking sucked.

[nolongerapileofashprobably]

Botw/Totk Zelda is so precious to me. She’s been through SO much.

From being the heir to the throne, her image tarnished by the fact that despite daily rigorous training, she is unable to access the sealing power that is her birthright. Her mother died before she could be taught and her father was not magical in any way, so all he could do was continue to order her to train. When she tries to expand her research in order to help in some other way, since her magic is stubbornly kept locked away, she is berated, constantly gossiped about, and is referred not as the Princess of Hyrule, but rather the ‘heir to a throne of nothing’. No one had faith in her. No one believed in her.

King Rhoam couldn’t understand and had to act as a King, causing Zelda to suffer even more. These are the reasons Zelda doesn’t like Link in the beginning. Not only can she not figure him out, because he won’t say anything, but she thinks he despises her. And she can’t stand to think about how Link accomplished his goal as a mere preteen by being chosen by the sword. Whereas she has struggled daily to access the sealing power.

And then she finally realizes Link’s own determination matches his own and his dedication is one she can relate to with her own life. So she apologizes. She gets to know Link. She asks why he doesn’t speak much and he trusts her enough to confide in her. They bond through the shared fate to seal away the darkness. And then get to know each other as just Zelda and Link.

It’s the first time either of them can truly relate to someone and they find comfort in each other.

So while she did have the support of the Champion’s and Link, all of whom see her commitment and how much she truly wants to help and despised herself for her inability to access her power, Zelda is still trying to handle the rest of the kingdom and her father’s scrutiny. And that’s an insane amount of pressure on someone who already has an entire kingdom worth of pressure already placed onto them from birth. Imagine knowing that your kingdom not only talks down on you but has no faith whatsoever in you. And it just bogs you down as you hate on yourself and continuously blame yourself for shortcomings not in your control.

That’s what Zelda was going through. And guess what? Link failed. The Divine Beasts failed. Zelda failed. Everyone. Failed.

And the reason was because Ganon had far more influence and power than they anticipated.

People go and paint Zelda as a privileged know it all who is completely stripped of any flaws in ToTK— which is completely ignorant of the canon events. It’s an opinion founded on the fact that Zelda’s development in this game is not focused on the flaws of a teenage girl with the weight of the entire kingdom on her twicefold. Instead, ToTK is focused on Zelda’s growth as a leader which is a concept some people cannot understand, as they are stuck on the flaws Zelda worked on as she matured and embraced her new life (aka she isn’t miserable and stuck in the past).

Zelda is a leader who has, in the span of half a decade, put in place new survey teams, a new military, an education system, and drew in more people to repopulate the desolate land of Hyrule. It’s implied that the Sheikah tech was completely cleared from the land for fear of it being manipulated again (if you go on top of Hateno Research Lab the Guardian is legitimately chained down rather than just placed atop the building with minimal support). Zelda traveled and visited the land of Hyrule, met with various people and began to relearn her kingdom through the sparse population that still existed.

Zelda went around Hyrule and did what she could to strengthen the culture of Hyrule and truly make it a kingdom rather than a loosely strung together ghost of a kingdom. She placed monuments with silent princesses. A flower now described as: “This lovely flower was said to have been a favorite of the princess of Hyrule. They were once feared to have gone extinct, but it's not uncommon to spot them growing in the wild.”

And to have a kingdom that actively adores Zelda, who has grown so much as a person and tries so so hard is finally having her effort seen and appreciated by all. Zelda is loved because the entire point of totk is to show us Zelda having everything this time. She was adored by the people. She was finally in a place with herself and her people that she never had before. She had Link, who never left her side and made themselves a home in Hateno (this isn’t even a shipper goggles moment, this is the basic interpretation of the original game and canonical evidence).

Zelda, even back in the past, was given a supportive father figure and a teacher who also represented a mother figure. She continued to be her nerdy self and research Zonai tech, finally gaining the answers of the Imprisoning War that she so adorably gushed about when they found the ruins beneath the castle in the beginning of the game. Her research wasn’t put down nor her theories dismissed. It’s everything Zelda was deprived of in botw. Everything.

*spoilers for totk ending below*

And that’s the reason her sacrifice is so devastating. Because she chose to give up her life, her mortality, everything she has fought to achieve, just to ensure Link, who she has complete faith in, had the Master Sword to finally rid their Hyrule of the darkness. Zelda made that choice thinking there was no possibility of her coming back.

So to completely dismiss Zelda because she is saved by the two parental parents is absurd? Zelda made a choice that would end life as she knew it just to save the home she built back.

There’s also people blaming Zelda for not putting Ganon and Ganondorf together but the thing is that she did have a theory? And she did speak out about her uneasiness of Rauru reaching out to Ganondorf? Which, btw, is an echo of OoT Zelda warning her father of Ganondorf’s evil intent, only for it to be ignored by the king (who dies for his mistake). That sounds familiar, right? Because it should. The Zelda universe is pretty much founded upon reoccurring factors each age that ultimately lead up to a catastrophic event or other tragedy.

Yes, this is rather dull when you look at it from a broad perspective— but that’s the case with a ton of media. It’s in the details and the differences that draw us into the fictional universe of Zelda. People don’t need to love it— nor do they have to abide by these reoccurring factors. In fandoms and such, you can explore different possibilities, swapped roles, darker circumstances, softer fluffier moments, and so on. That’s the beauty of fandoms.

But warping stories and character actions to fulfill a narrative completely opposite of what the canon implications (and actual facts in some cases)… it usually serves the purpose of hating a character. Now, everyone has the freedom to do this. That’s 100% true. But the insane amount of takes I have seen, particularly regarding Zelda in ToTK, led me to write this post that explores her actions and developments from a pretty strict canonical perspective. Obviously, I am biased and not everyone will agree with me. That’s okay.

I simply find comfort that my interpretation of Zelda in ToTK is supported by the narrative, development, and all the characters (including Link). Because everyone adores Zelda. They all see how much she cares and it’s even said by Manny in Botw that everyone is thankful and grateful for the Princess, because she’s the reason everyone (atp) is still around. Zelda is adored by the survivors not only because she kept the Calamity at bay for a century, but also because she spent time and got to know them.

Which is why it’s so hard for everyone to believe that the puppet Zelda causing mayhem was intentionally being malicious. It’s completely out of character. And because of Zelda and Link’s travels between games, they all know who she is at heart. And that is a healing, compassionate Princess who just wants to know the people of Hyrule once again. This isn’t to erase Zelda’s flaws. It deliberately shows us the stark difference between Hyrule before the Calamity and after it. One looked down on her and made her feel incompetent.

This one now cherishes her and sees her for the hard-working girl she is.

It’s all about giving a character everything they were deprived of and then ripping it away from them. It’s a new sort of growth for Zelda’s character. And yet, she has not lost who she is: a nerd who must ramble about her findings. (To link specifically, but like we all know that)

And that is why I absolutely adore her. She’s phenomenal.

[dailyadventureprompts]

Adventure: Dead Certian

It was all going to end like this, one day or another

Hooks:

It starts out as a simple enough job, some noble or other has acquired some potentially profitable land but learned too late that it rests within the hunting grounds of some dangerous monsters lairing in a ruin in the nearby mountains. After being hired by an agent of the noble with a sizable upfront payment and the promise of more to come, the party find themselves hiking up into the foothills towards an abandoned abbey. It's your standard monster hunt... aside from the mostly devoured bodies indicating the party are not the first ones to be sent up the mountain.... or the rambling immortal corpse chained up for what seems like decades in a secret cell in the abbey's foundations.

It's a week or so later that the visions start... only rumours at first, people having bad dreams about a hateful red sun in a black sky, horrifying shapes moving about a blasted and ashen countryside... but then one of the heroes "awakens" in the burnt out ruins of the in they went to sleep in last night and are forced to fight for their life against various monstrosities before gasping awake. These visions are unpredictable and intermittent, and as speculation mounts of what they might mean further tales come creeping in about people dying in thier sleep or even rising from their beds to go on a mindless rampage after falling under the influence of whatever it is they're seeing.

Some time later the party is approached again by the noble's agent... though this time they're dishevelled, paranoid, and have obviously been running for their life for some days. They explain that their employer is up to something wicked, they don't know what, but its got something to do with the old abbey and the visions and its only going to get worse if they're not stopped.

Setup: Consigned to the dustbin of history nearly a century ago, the soothsayer Tirman Houndstongue was known in his day for producing prophecies as cryptic as they were accurate. The "Houndstongue Harkenings" were required readings for mystics of the day, until the new writings suddenly stopped as most presumed that the diviner had simply dropped dead in one of his famously fevered writing sessions. One by one the events hinted at by Tirman's writings were divined and came to pass, and the once famous fortuneteller fell into obscurity.

The truth is far stranger than what is remembered: After years of seeminly innocuous prophecies Houndstongue started predicting the end of the world, and in fear of his widely circulated ramblings causing a panic the church censored his writings and imprisoned him in an isolated monestary that only a select few knew about. For the rest of his life Tirman rambled on about all the horrors that would befall the world during the end times.. and then kept on rambling after he died, seeminly animated by the NEED to keep pronouncing the end of days, pausing only to talk about the terrible fates that would befal his captors and how their actions were all for not. Less than a decade later an outbreak of plague struck the monestary, leaving the corpse forgotten in its cell.

Forgotten, except for a certain noble by the name of Vandermyr , who's family's rise to prominence came about as party of Tirman's prophecies. Though born generations after the oracle's apparent death, Vandermyr developed an obsession with Houndstongue's writings thinking that they didn't just apply to specific events but spoke of underlying patterns in fate. After lucking into increasingly successive business ventures, Vandermyr bent his family's resources to discovering lost scraps of Tirman lore, eventually stumbling into the truth of his abduction, and his eventual resting place, buying the estate nearby.

Sending multiple groups to seek out scraps of unpublished prophecy under the guise of monsterhunting, Vandermyr was DELIGHTED to encounter the recitating cadaver of his idol once the party reported back, going so far as to visit the monastery himself before commanding servants to drag Tirman's remains back to his manor. In long hours spent listening at the corpse's feet comes to a revelation: that the apocalyptic ravings are just cryptic metaphor, misunderstood by the narrow minded churchfolk, and that surely they would lead him, and the Vandermyr family to rise to even greater heights.

Further Adventures:

Vandermyr is an idiot and he's kickstarted the end of days, which makes the party atleast partially culpable. It might take them a while to connect the auspicious signs to clues left in the dungeon, but once they figure it out they'll need to break into Vandemyr's manor for answers. Thankfully they're not alone in this task, as despite being a mouthpiece for otherworldy forces and stone dead for well over a hundred years, Tirman's been trying to prophecy AROUND the death of the world, it'll just take the party a bit of champion level bullshit decoding to figure out how.

Unbenknownsed to anyone including him, Tirman's prophecies were delivered by an extradimensional horror with power over predestination known as the Nigh-Tyrant. From its home amid the carcasses of devoured worlds this pisonic predator would weave itself into the causality of a realm it wished to devour, influencing events to allow it to travel between realms and rampage as it pleased. The problem with fighting this entity is that its consciousness is made up in-part of all the guilt and madness wracked oracles it used in the past, meaning its ability to predict the party's actions is manifold. Whats more, it commands those lesser nightmares that have come to dwell in the aftermath of its apocalypse, and can dispatch them to the party's world through various hidden means.

You can't go around subverting fate and not expect the gods to get involved. Istusis or other fate-warping gods are a lightly choice for late-game party benefactors, and the heroes may find their journey altered at several points to steer them in the needed direction before actual intervention takes place.

If you need to further up the stakes, consider having the belayed end of days get the attention of the outergod with dominon over failed apocalypses who senses the titan's death like a vulture on the wind

Art 1

Art 2

Art 3

[ohmeadows]

The joker of the deck: Aha the Elation (and some Swarm Disaster lore)

While reading through swarm disaster lore (again), Herta popped up during a moment discussing the disappearance of Oroboros the Voracity, noting that some entity was interfering with the simulation. Which got me thinking about Aha. Again.

Having played through Swarm Disaster’s entire story twice now, I can’t help but think that whatever role Aha the Elation has to play, is going to be incredibly important. Or at least entertaining.

Aha is the only self-aware Aeon in the Simulated Universe. Despite the team’s efforts to tamper down on it, Aha continues to be self-aware, toying with you and the creators each time they appear. It’s heavily implied that simulated Aha is actively interfering with Herta, Screwllum and Ruan Mei’s work to understand the Aeons, being present each time the Aeons schemed to destroy Tayzzyronth the Propagation.

Aha freely admits to infiltrating the Astral Express for a year just to find the perfect moment to blow the train up. Why? To mess with Akivili and their followers.

Aha is the Aeon closest involved with the ways of mortals, and while it lacks the magnitude of directly devastating powers such as the Destruction or the Hunt, it doesn’t lack for ability to turn fate on a whim — Aha has directly influenced or been involved in rebellions, government coups, deaths of Aeons and is one of the only (so far) Aeons confirmed to shapeshift to a human when it suits their needs.

In fact, it’s heavily implied Sampo is a follower of Aha (if not more?) and when you think about Sampo’s involvement in Belobog’s storyline, he shows up at precise moments, barely does anything, and yet alters some extremely pivotal details that changes everything, above all dragging Bronya down to see the truth of Belobog. At the end of the Belobog arc, Sampo reports to someone, nearly breaking the fourth wall. He did it for fun. Just a little gigglejoke. Why not change the course of Belobog if it makes for a spectacle?

Also: during the Phantylia fight, you can hear Aha laughing. At who? Us, or Phantylia? Something is in motion aboard the Luofu, involving the Destruction, the Abundance and the Hunt. It won’t be the first time Aha has brought together different Aeons for their own amusement.

In Swarm Disaster, it’s made clear Aha had some level of knowledge or perhaps even involvement in Ena the Order becoming Xipe the Harmony. You-as-Akivili, the role the Trailblazer inhabits while in Simulated Universe, feel uneasy watching Aha suck up to Xipe, which is interesting to note. Ena is the one who demands Qlipoth to act on the problem the Tayzzyronth poses, and yet they are absorbed by Xipe.

I’ll also note that in Swarm Disaster, it’s implied it was “chance” that caused the rise of the Propagation path and their ascension to Aeonhood. Now, I’m not saying Aha did it, but…

At the end of Swarm Disaster, Herta takes you through the simulation once more, pointing out three big details that bug her after having witnessed all they could divine from the past:

The destruction of the system the Propagation (once a mortal) originated from was not a natural occurrence. Something or someone instigated it. Herta isn’t sure who did it, suggesting Voracity, Order or Elation, but landing on not knowing. For now.

During the Propagation path wrecking havoc across the universe, Oroboros the Voracity and Ena the Order disappeared. How and why are not entirely clear, though we know Ena was absorbed into Xipe. Oroboros is interesting since the Voracity is an enemy of Qlipoth — perhaps even an Aeon Qliopth fears, to a degree. Herta’s exact quote is: “Oroboros and Ena vanished in the middle of this tale! Completely, silently, as if there was another story progressing along in the shadows underneath the main stage…”

The Aeons that came together — Equilibrium, Preservation, Trailblaze, Elation and Harmony — may have brought down the Propagation, but the path itself isn’t dead. There’s endless Swarm offsprings still alive in the universe. Herta suggests that the Propagation isn’t actually truly dead, and will rise again. And soon.

Leaving Swarm Disaster, it's hard not to feel a sense of unease about Aha. Herta herself states that the universe has gotten worse since Aha's laugh rang out across the universe for the first time. Whatever hand Aha is intending to play in the future will be very interesting.

[basketballanonsblog]

The lyrics of 'Enchanted' by Taylor Swift had some influence when I wrote this, so shoutout to Tay-Tay

TW ⚠️ : mentions of blood, violence, and d***h. Nsfw for smut. Flashbacks are in italics

Enchanted pt.2

"Why did you fall in love with me?" She asked one day. You were by the coast, watching the sunset.

"It was a series of different things accumulating together but if you want a more specific answer, it would be because of how I felt when we first met."

"I was irked when you called me reckless." Jihyo pouted, making you laugh.

"I didn't mean it, your actions showed courage. I only said that because I was flustered at the sound of your voice." She raised an eyebrow at you.

"How come I'm only finding this out now?"

You shrugged.

"I was simply enchanted my darling.

It felt like my heart sighed when I first saw you. Almost like it was relieved that we met."

Her eyes were glazed with unshed tears. She felt the warmth of your words seep into her body and soul. She leaned and breathed you in, letting her eyes close in bliss.

"I love you so much."

The machines beeped in the background, your operation had its bumps along the way, you flat lined, due to blood loss.

But you made it.

"I thought angels are supposed to be bulletproof." She delicately held your hand, eyes red from crying.

"Usually, we are."

"Then why did y/n get injured?"

"Our father let her keep her wings, but she's not an angel anymore. You could say she's more like superhuman, her abilities are still enhanced, but nevertheless, she's human. Meaning-"

"She's mortal."

"Exactly."

"She could've died, yet she jumped in front of me." The lingering feeling of your blood on her hands made Jihyo nauseous. 

"Y/n really gave up her status?"

"Yes. It's romantic isn't it? That a celestial being, without hesitation, would sacrifice their divinity to save the person they love." He looks at Jihyo "Because a world without them, is utterly unbearable."

He fixes the hospital blanket. "I used to find it baffling, but I think I

understand now."

It was overwhelming to Jihyo, she knows you love her, she just didn't realise the depth of it.

"It's not your fault."

"Sure feels like it is."

"You didn't shoot her, Jihyo. Regardless of what happens, she would take those bullets every time. Your safety means so much to her; to this day, y/n blames herself for what happened to you all those years ago. You heard what she said earlier right?"

"She was willing to let me go. Willing to have her heart broken, as long as I'm happy. But I can't be happy, knowing that she's in pain because of me."

"Yes, I think it's established that y/n would break herself if she thought it would benefit you. On her phone, you're saved as naui cheonsa. "

"My angel."

"Right. So while you think you've caused her distress, the last thing she would do is hold it against you. To y/n, you're her reason to keep living."

He smiled and stood up.

"I better get going. She'll be awake soon, you two have a lot to talk about. I'll be back in a few days."

"Thank you Lucifer. Really.

~x~

Jihyo was texting the members, when you woke up.

"Hey." You managed to croak out. With speed that would put the Flash to shame, she took you into her arms; resting her head against your shoulder.

"You stayed."

"Of course I stayed." She tightened her grip. "How could I leave you, after all that happened? Does it hurt?"

"Not when I'm with you."

A slap to the shoulder she leaned against just seconds ago.

"Idiot."

"Wha- hey!"

"Don't try to sweet talk me. Why did you have to do that? You nearly died."

"I couldn't let you get hurt. Not again."

"So what then huh?!" Her voice wavered. "You'll condemn me to the same fate? To suffer the loss of the one I love?"

Jihyo loves me?

Your thumb caressed her cheek, wiping the tears away.

"I'm here. I'm okay." She fell into your arms, sobbing.

"I was terrified. How on earth did you cope with carrying that grief for decades?"

"It was difficult, but for you? I would've waited an eternity."

She smiled, and to you, she would always be the most beautiful human you have ever seen.

"Y/n I love you."

"I love you so much. I have loved you for nearly my entire existence."

Your nose brushed against hers, as you stole a glance at her lips.

"May I?"

"Please."

Being wounded and in a hospital room isn't where you imagined sharing your (second) first kiss with the woman you love, but honestly? As long as you were with Jihyo, you wouldn't change a thing.

~x~

After waiting three months, the man who had shot you was incarcerated.

"We can finally put it behind us." You made a noise of agreement, as she snuggled into your arms.

"With how furious Lucifer was, I'm surprised he didn't-"

"Kill him? In his mind that would've been almost merciful. In due time he will be punished."

"Have you ever...?"

"Once."

"Who?"

"The bastard who took you away from me. It seemed fitting that I use the same knife he used on you. I never regretted it."

Momentary silence.

"Are you afraid of me now?"

"Never, but how did your family take it?"

"He's dead, y/n."

You slumped, defeated.

"It's not fair." You wept. "It should've been me, not her."

"Y/n."

"What do you want Amenadiel?" Amenadiel, the eldest among your brothers.

"Father has requested your presence. Lucifer can stay and dispose of the body."

You were silent on the journey back. Despite the nerves, you stood firm in the face of your father.

"What on earth have you done?"

"I only delivered justice-"

"It is not your place to declare yourself as humanity's judge!  I never should have permitted you to go to earth. That mortal has been nothing but a distraction and a bad influence. She has clouded your mind."

"That mortal has brought me nothing but happiness. You will not disrespect her."

The contact echoed as he slapped you. It didn't faze you, you have been numb ever since that night.

"Do not talk back to me."

"Father. She didn't deserve this, please bring her back."

"You have some nerve asking me that. This is an outlandish request, even for you y/n. You are not the first or last person to lose someone. I cannot outright bend the rules for you, regardless of the fact you are my child."

Your hands clenched, tears flowing while you dropped to your knees, head bowed.

"Then I beg of you, turn me human."

"What?"

"Turn me human. Everything is meaningless without her."

"You would give up your birthright for her?"

"Yes." You answered a little too quickly for your father's liking.

He stormed off, muttering obscenities before ranting to your mother.

"At least show some empathy to our daughter. She has just lost her first love. You remember what it's like to fall in love? We're lucky, because the fragility of life doesn't apply to us.

He returned after talking to his wife, but the sight of you still kneeling was unexpected.

He mimicked you.

"This human, she means that much to you?" He asked gently. You nodded tiredly.

"Father, I love her. I do not wish to live in a world where she doesn't exist."

He had never heard you sound so broken. Even if he had high expectations, you were still his firstborn. What kind of parent wants to see their child in pain?

He sighed and conceded, placing a hand on your shoulder.

"Okay."

She sniffed through the retelling of the memory.

"You always end up crying whenever I tell you of our past." You teased.

"Well, sometimes, when you're feeling so much love inside, it can spill out."

You nearly fell asleep, when her voice cut through.

"Do you miss the past?"

"Now and again. We first met and fell in love in a different era. Things back then were a lot less complicated, but had I stayed hung up on the past, then we wouldn't have met today."

She looked down, nervously playing with the hem of your shirt.

"What's wrong?" She hesitated. "Please my love, tell me what troubles you."

"Sometimes I worry that I'm too different to the Jihyo you knew back then. That I'm not enough."

You just wanted to kiss all her fears away. You tilted her chin up so that you can look at her directly.

"In each lifetime we live through, I will choose and wholeheartedly love every version of you."

She captured your lips, moving so she was partially lying on top of you and you let yourselves get lost in the moment. Jihyo pulled away when she needed air.

"Can I see them?"

"See what?"

"Your wings." That took you by surprise.  "You don't have to." She backtracked.

You shifted to sit at the end of the bed, leaving her by the pillows.

"You might want to keep a bit of distance." With your back turned to her, you pulled your shirt off, and removed your bra. Poor Jihyo went red at the sight of your bare skin.

Your white wings slowly spread out, leaving her in awe.

She crawled to you, her fingers outstretched, but unmoving.

"It's alright, you can touch them."

She didn't expect your wings to feel warm, as she traced every pristine inch of the soft feathers. What she didn't realise, was that you were on the verge of trembling. In the past, Jihyo was the only one to have touched your wings. It had been so long, you had forgotten how sensitive they were; and to be touched like that by the only woman you have loved, it awoke dormant feelings.

Your breaking point was when you felt her lips against your recently attained scar. Her lips trailed kisses up your back before settling on the sliver of skin in between where your wings attached to your body.

Your pupils had dilated, leaving your eyes looking almost all black, when you turned to her.

"Come here." Your voiced dropped an octave, making her shiver.

You kissed her, hard. You moaned as you felt her tongue run along your lower lip, seeking entrance.

Without breaking apart, she laid down, pulling you on top. You moved your mouth to her jaw and neck.

"No marks."

In a haste, her top and bra were also thrown away. You worshipped her body with your hands and lips. Every noise she made, was music to your ears.

You removed the rest of her clothes, leaving her completely bare to you. She nodded when you silently asked if you could continue.

Settling between her legs, you dipped your head low, tongue against her core. Jihyo moaned and threw her head back at the sensation, her legs instinctively widened. Your nose pressed against her clit as you pushed your tongue inside.

Her fingers gripped your hair, keeping your head still as she rocked her body into you.

Her walls tightened, but you pulled out before she could climax, your mouth glistening with her arousal. Before she could whine, you changed positions. You sat upright, with Jihyo straddling your lap.

Two of your fingers found their place in her tight heat. She moved up and down, her nails would dig into your shoulders each time you curled your fingers.

"Don't stop."

Since she was close before, it didn't take long for her to climax. You gasped at the sudden rush of liquid coating your fingers and thigh.

She slumped into your arms, panting in the crook of your neck.

The next kiss between you was soft. You would never get tired of looking into the infinite pools of her eyes.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

A yawn escaped.

"Sleepy already y/n?"

"Forgive me my love. I'm not as energetic as I was before."

"Then I guess we have to work on your stamina hm?"

"Where are you going?" You pouted as she wriggled out of your grasp.

"Shower."

The sound of water was calming enough to send you to the edge of sleep until she cleared her throat. You cracked an eye open, to see her peer out of the bathroom.

"Care to join me?"

Oh well, sleep was overrated anyway.

[lady-byleth]

So I've been replaying Hades for the past couple of days and I've started thinking about the concept of half gods because of Achilles and I have realized that while tragic heroes fucked over by fate are great we also need to explore how fucking weird a half god would probably be to have around

Cuz like, gods are probably very very different to us humans and their blood would run fairly strong within their half mortal offspring and there's a lot of room to play around with how that manifests. Plus, we all know that the gods are very volatile and can go through the entire spectrum of emotions within like 10 seconds so that's fun too

Like, imagine you're Peleus, king of Phthia. Your son is two years old now, he looks like he's at least five. Yesterday he debated your advisors on politics and made them run from the room crying. Last week he wrote his second full length comedy. Afterwards he threw a tantrum cuz he couldn't reach the higher shelves in the library that probably traumatized the entire staff before he charmed them into fawning over him again. Thetis says this is normal.

You're Peleus, king of Phthia, and you adore your now ten year old son but you're also very out of your depth. You can't let him play with kids his age cuz human age works differently than his and they're just too young, but you also can't put him together with people on his intellectual level cuz you don't want to deal with the fallout of when someone inevitably annoys him too much. There's still a few broken chairs from last time lying around. That boy won't sit still for 10 seconds, the mortal world is too boring and slow for him. You're still trying to find the combat instructor he scared away two weeks ago. Thetis says this is also normal.

You're Peleus, king of Phthia, and your old Argonaut buddy Menoetius just showed up with his son, asking for help. Your own son is now twelve years old and definitely almost fully grown. Last week he reorganized the entire library out of boredom and then put it back to how it was again. No one wants to spar with him anymore, he's going to snap soon. But here's Menoetius with his son Patroclus who seems to have a good head on his shoulders, recent accident notwithstanding. You can't just take in someone wanted for murder without good reasons...but Achilles is going to claw his way through the walls at this rate. He refused being a suitor for Helen recently, lectured you on outdated marriage practices for two hours and then went to visit his mother for a month. You can't handle him, no matter how much you love him. But Patroclus gives off the impression that he could. You can work with this.

You're Peleus, king of Phthia, and your son is now sixteen and no longer growing. He's also found someone who can keep up with his energy with fond understanding and a calming hand where necessary. You're pretty proud of yourself for making Patroclus do this cuz it's not just anger, boredom and energy that Achilles has to divine levels. If you didn't know better you'd think Patroclus was the half god the way your son seems to worship the ground he walks on. He is a good influence on your son, one could almost be fooled into thinking he's just a normal human when they're together. You've never seen Achilles smile that much.

Maybe now Phthia will know some peace...

[sugar-grigri]

I love you but if denji sacrifices himself for asa I will throw up and sob. I pray that you're wrong

I really think the fact that Denji dies is key to his development.

We can see that he reaches his conclusions when he's in the middle of building Asa, Denji has more of a narrative role now to influence the other characters than to be disturbed by them.

I'm not saying this because tragedy is something Fujimoto knows how to write very well, but not only does death have an important place in his works, but Chainsaw Man is about the birth of a hero, especially in part 1, which is concluded in part 2.

We see that becoming a hero brings Denji artificial personal advantages, that he remains locked in a sad solitude

It has never had any other aim than to be integrated, and it still isn't.

Part 2 takes up Shakespearean codes (double identity, intertwined love, two opposing camps, relationship with the family), death has always had an emancipating function in tragedy.

Death is not an end but a conclusion; dying for the other is Denji's best way of paradoxically finding meaning in his existence.

For a boy who would constantly be judged as perverse but also as having low vices, sacrificing himself for others would finally serve to make him a hero in the ancient sense of the word, whose power derives not from his popularity but from his moral strength.

Sacrifice through the figure of the cat, the social integration initiated by Bucky and then taken up by the birds, the question of finding oneself, all need to be answered by a strong act, and only a powerful narrative act can resolve all these questions at once.

Fujimoto has just highlighted the concept of weapons, talking about their relationship with the fact of having no will of their own, their eternal youth and immortality.

The weapons are all polarized on this subject, while the whip and spear weapons see it as superiority, Miri, who also seems to want to act for his own freedom, is more dubious.

Barem is in a special position, having internalized the fact that sowing death is a divine mission, a trait common to all beings.

Quanxi and Denji are opposite examples: Quanxi has survived at the expense of his girlfriends, just as Denji has begun to see his own immortality as a burden.

Several times, Denji emanates the idea that he's a machine to be rebooted, that the people have projected him to become Chainsaw Man.

To have won against Aki, to have survived at the expense of his older brother, a victory that marries a loss is not really what you'd call "winning".

Fate is also a central theme in CSM, and Aki couldn't escape his contract with the demon from the future, just as he couldn't escape Makima's meticulous plan to bring about the end of the siblings before they were even formed.

Denji's mother and father died young, so it wouldn't surprise me if he, too, was trapped in a kind of fatality.

What's more, Denji's eternal youth is also what's going to give him trouble.

He hasn't matured physically compared to part 1; it's simply Fujimoto's style that has taken shape.

He won't grow up, this boy who'd like to go to school, plan to find a job and have a normal life.

Denji is condemned to seeing his loved ones die or to staying just the two of them with Nayuta.

We shouldn't idealize or demonize the relationship he has with his little sister, but the fact remains that Nayuta is a demon with different values than a boy who was human before becoming a demon.

The control demon simply wants an entourage, even if it's limited to one person.

As for Denji, he only finds meaning in his relationship with the majority, with people his own age.

Denji loves Nayuta, but they don't both have the same conception of happiness, as Fujimoto develops in the final chapters.

In short, the best way to make Denji happy is to let him die for someone else.

And again from a symbolic and narrative point of view, whether it's in relation to the general scenario or Denji's arc, of course I'd cry like everyone else and you Anon

But I want and hope for the best ending for CSM

[tobiasdrake]

Alright. Jogging down the street, take 3. This time, no distractions. We're gonna sprint from point B to point A, so called because point B is where we begin Plan B and point A is where we begin Plan A.

I know. It's fucking weird. Have you ever tried measuring how probabilistic physics react under the influence of your time rewind? I think the d6 is landing on different values when it falls.

NO DISTRACTIONS!

I mean... unless we wanted to find out our lucky number....

Oh fine, I'll behave. Do you have the stamina for the jog, though?

Well, that's convenient. We might be able to get there right as the body comes down, and have him crash onto the car!

Let's GO!

Yeah, that's about what I thought. Fortunately, we may have saved his life. Hollywood movies have taught me that cars are ultra-soft and landing on one from any height means guaranteed survival.

...the fucking d6 is on the hood in front of his face. It's probably a different value again but this doesn't count as a test of probabilistic physics under time-rewind. We've changed the surrounding circumstances too much. It corrupts the test.

Trying to get his attention but all he cares about is the die. Pretty sure that's a 4, by the way.

Bullshit, that is a four.

It's weird that it's a four. We can see the three facing us, so the four should be facing the opposite direction. All opposing sides of a d6 add to 7. But it is a four facing up. Maybe the one is on the side facing him, rather than the top?

Ha! I knew it! Hollywood physics never fail! I guess you could say it sure was lucky that we found this taxicab, wasn't it?

We have saved a life. ^_^ All in a day's work for Fubuki Clockford, Master Detective.

:D Protective rainclouds and roses. I guess this means we've closed the book on this case. Nothing more to see here!

Oh shit, we actually left. XD Who cares about the finer details like why he fell. Guy lived! Job's done! This was a Lucky Day miracle.

Oh, I'm sure we can trust the corporate shills down at Kanai Ward's finest propaganda machine to report only the truth. No reason to let these good vibes go to waste.

That's because it was counting down to when he'd be saved! The d6 knew his fate.

Hmm... and who do we know that reads fates....

The Fortune Teller! If she's in on it, then she could have given the victim a divining die! Perhaps that's why she was so keen on giving us a lucky number! The lucky number decides how many times you will die before you live.

Or Halara! We already know that they're postcognitive. Who's to say they haven't been keeping a little precognition from us too? Maybe they're having breakfast with us right now to eavesdrop on our findings!

Or Yomi. In all this city, nobody has so much power over fate and destiny as Yomi. He flexes that power every time he has people killed. He shapes people's fates into imprisonment and death as easily as imprisoning or killing them. Perhaps he used his powers to shape this fate as well?

The Count is probably clean. He can only work with numbers that already exist, so I think we can remove him from the list.

But what might have changed is probability. We're going quantum on our lucky day!

Bestie. Bestie. You are rich as fuck, bestie. The cost of Halara's services are pocket change. Bestie. This team-up would be amazing.

Woo-hoo, rich girl gets freebies! Boy, it sure is nice to have upper-class privileges. It's almost like the systems of capital are designed to make things more expensive for the poor or something.

Maybe it's cause Halara thinks I'm swell. :)

Of course, we shouldn't discount the more rational explanation. Halara's offer of pro bono services may be another manifestation of our Lucky Day!

And. Would that. Still be considered a conversation among friends, rather than an official business expenditure? I will offer you this adorable smile and a pair of thumbs ups.

(b˃̵ ᴗ ˂̵)b Let's go, Team... Nightford? Clockmare? Fulara? ...Nightmare... Clock... Alarm clock!

Let's go, Team Alarm Clock, let's go!

...oh, but you're also a suspect so this will let me keep an eye on you. I nearly forgot you were on The List. Finger guns!

Does it say which building? I tried asking around but everyone was too busy gasping in shock.

That's probably where the d6 came from. This involves gambling in some way or another. He was so invested in the outcome of that roll that he was willing to die for it.

What about the roof? Can the windows on the roof be opened?

*nods sagely* Roof windows are unlocked. Check.

What are his gambling habits like? That's going to be the centerpiece of this mystery.

There we go. Now we're on the trail of the d6. Not sure we'll find the d6 at the crime scene now, after all this time. Oh! But Halara can use their Postcognition to return to the crime scene and spot it! I'm so glad we hired invited Halara to tag along as our extra-special luxury friend!

They are so cool, y'all. I don't know why Yuma always looks so miserable every time he finishes a conversation with them!

[yonemurishiroku]

In The Hidden Oracle, Apollo mentions that his son Austin's mortal parent is also a man. We don't know much about how exactly the gods create offspring the "non-traditional" way, but I assume there must be some kind of act of love involved? Anyway, the point I'm getting to here is what if God Jason and Nico had a child together

...........You're a freaking genius!!! ✍(◔◡◔) 

This is like, the only AU there is that isn’t ABOverse but still enables them to have a child together.

Seriously, why didn't I think of that? I'm pretty sure the one with two dads is actually Kayla though, but anw do you know what this means?

If Jason and Nico had a child, that child would be the integration of sky and earth.

And that's one hell of a freaking sublime existence right there, not mentioning the fact that Jason is a god, which consequently makes the child, like... three-quarters god, I think. They would come so much closer to divinity than every demigod.

It really depends significantly on what exactly Jason is the god of. However, basically, we have a quarter mortal child who potentially holds the power of both the under and above, of unconfinable winds and incorporeal shadows, of striking lightning and catastrophic earthquakes. It's simply majestic. Their domain would be the sky and the land. They can walk across two-thirds of the earth and they'd still be thriving in their elements.

And that is only the elemental side. Jason Grace is a hero, his child would definitely be held up by people's respect and admiration. At the same time, Nico is arguably king of the ghost - scratch that, he is the Ghost King - which forces all the decease to obey him as one. What does all of this mean, you ask? It means that their child would have influence over both the living and the dead.

Ngl if I were Zeus, I'd be freaking out right now.

And that is without mentioning their (most likely protective) fathers. And uncles. And aunts. And many minor gods on whom their fathers have so much as strike a good impression. I don’t know.

Omg imagine someone is messing with the little seven-year-old and then they glance up only to meet with Nico’s icy eyes glaring at them hard enough to pin their soul on the spot. 

And Jason who takes his child out to play with friendly gods! He makes sure to spend as much time as possible for his child, unlike what he had to suffer in his childhood (as if he had one).

Nico would probably be the one spending more time with their child. Because, you know. He isn’t good at all of this parenting and he needs help, a lot, from Hazel. He isn’t good at showing emotions but he tries his best to make the child feel loved. Basically that typical stern-but-loving father. 

And Jason is the definition of spoiling. No clue why I came up with that but I’m going to hell with this. Excuse him he doesn’t see his child much. Of course he’s gonna indulge them. Okay maybe not playing with their grandfather’s bolt though. Or messing with step-grandmother(-slash-aunt? whatever) favourite floral dress.

Not gonna lie, that child would surely go through a lot of shit in his life. Because power always comes with a price. You don’t just be born with powers and play with it for the rest of your life. No, it wouldn’t be like that, no matter how hard Nico nor Jason wish it to be. That child would suffer by the responsibilities his powers bestow on him, people’s expectations and fate’s games alike. 

But eh, that’s the future of an AU I’m pretty sure would never see the light of day - unless someone decides to swoop in and save the day, please - so for now, let’s relish on the fact that God!Jason and Nico have a child. Yay!

[autumnslance]

⭐ director’s commentary! Anything you want to scream about.

Occasionally I end up writing about Ascians, as I did in the FFXIV Write 2022 Prompt, Vicissitudes.

I still have a lot of Vampire: The Masquerade associations with that word. Most of one's 20s spent in the World of Darkness RPG setting'll do that. In WoD, Vicissitude is a power used by one of the vampire clans; it's transformation of flesh and bone, mostly for body horror.

The story of FFXIV was begun back in the original, failed version of the game, inherited by the new team, who kept many elements of those notes and outlines and basic ideas in the rebuild. But the Ascians really didn't get fully formed with proper motivations and backgrounds until Shadowbringers and Endwalker, after some retooling of those story elements (hence it not always..fitting things in earlier expansions, though they did a decent job retrofitting what they could and did).

That prompt response ended up from Lahabrea's POV, so we'll stick more or less to that, but it gets spoilery from here, for ShB, EW, and Panda raids, as well as getting a smidge long, so...

Lahabrea got the short end of the stick, being the ARR villain and his fate in Heavensward. I love the revamp to MSQ that makes him an actual threat--he kills the WoL, and it's only divine intervention that saves them in that early battle.

Pandaemonium raids giving Lahabrea a swansong works for me; Elidibus too, as I feel he was too vague and shifting through his various appearances, and unraveled too quickly in the end. It's also quite interesting to consider, from not just MSQ but also the short stories, how they interacted with Emet-Selch after all this time.

We have an official short story where Emet-Selch interacts more with Elidibus, so I wanted to write Emet with Lahabrea. They have extremely different uses for their host bodies, and ways of interacting with them and the world through them, as well as their reasons why. We got hints of their relationship, interactions, and views from Emet's biased perspectives, but what's Lahabrea's side?

From what little we have gotten to see in Pandaemonium so far, I think Lahabrea genuinely cares about his son, but is awful at showing it or explaining himself. This is also a man who literally cut difficult parts of himself away rather than deal with them. While Emet-Selch clings to his rose-colored glasses and builds entire phantom cities of his remembered dead...Lahabrea pushes all his memories aside. To the job. Get it done.

It also colors his tense relationship with Elidibus; these coworkers aren't just tired of each other after millennia, but Elidibus is exactly what Lahabrea doesn't want: a specific reminder of his losses, having been a friend of Erichthonios, and knowing so many secrets, like Athena's influence.

And of course, with those malleable mortal bodies, their thin aether is warped under that of an Unsundered's. Emet-Selch, after decades in Solus Galvus's body, looked kinda similar to his original self.

Is it any wonder Lahabrea burned through his hosts, then? Even associated with fire as he is, it strikes me as another way to avoid uncomfortable memories, to cut part of himself away again.

(Also simply useful, in the case of Thancred...who is too much like Lahabrea for his own good, not that either of them would like hearing that.)

So the push-pull of interactions between Emet-Selch and Lahabrea seemed interesting, how each of them approached their host bodies with the excuse of duty but underneath that there seems to be far more personal meanings.

Also, again, I equate "vicissitude" specifically with body horror and transformation thanks to V:tM, so my mind going to the mortal hosts, altered both intentionally and not, often dead but not always (I still wonder about Solus sometimes), seemed like a logical jumping point to examining those interactions and personal feelings.

[eldrichfuck666]

75% for Ansel please!

Hello! I hope you're having a great time of the day! 💖 I'm really happy to see you in my inbox, it means so much for me! 🥺 I'm glad that you also asked it for Ansel, because it plays a HUGE role in his story. It's going to be long (as always, sorry 😭)...

75%. How did the family that raised your character influence them?

To begin with, a small (relatively) background — Ansel's family is the ruling family of the kingdom of Windenburg (yes, in my game it is a kingdom), his parents are not related to him in a biological sense, although he grew up with the idea that he belonged to the royal bloodline — he was never part of his family, although he was brought up in an illusory love and care, which really was a lot in his life. His family influenced him in every possible way, both extremely negatively and extremely positively. He grew up feeling like a loved child, being surrounded by numerous sisters and brothers, and the relationship between them has always been extremely warm and accepting. They loved him, but more in the way of loving some kind of.. a porcelain doll, as if they realized that he was special in some way — that's why his siblings always were not only extremely sweet to him, but careful, as if they could break him or hurt him, which they really didn't wanted to do. They were scared of even hugging him too much, because he was way too sick and weak. He was almost.. untouchable for them, but in the way that some kind of divine beings are. They gave him all the love they could, all the warmth and care.

He still remembers his caring mother, who always looked at him with special affection and at the same time, with fear in her eyes, she tried to keep her distance and not look into his eyes, always lamenting that one day she would no longer be able to control him. It was as if she was regretting something that hadn't happened yet, but there was no hope to stop it from happening anyway. His father was not afraid of him and never looked at him with any sense of fear - he was always the one who gave him the most affection and love, giving him as much time as he could between running the state and raising his other children. However, Ansel always noticed how the fire in the eyes of both parents faded when he began to ask about what his fate would be and what awaits him in the future, when he even thought about what awaits him when he gets older. In response, they were always silent, as if afraid to utter a word, so as not to say something that he definitely should not have known.

He did not feel like a stranger even though he was completely unlike anyone in his family, which aroused certain suspicions for other people, but not for him. The entire royal family had black hair, and so it was from generation to generation - with the exception of him. He was really different, which is why his parents often emphasized his unusual facial features and genetics as something of a rare gift, they always called him a blessing from gods who was destined to fulfill something extremely important for future generations of the royal family and who would have to carry an incredibly heavy burden because of his true nature. "Your destiny is something you'll never be able to run away from, because it's both a curse and a blessing from Gods. You'll have to take it as it is." - his father always said. Ansel never understood this, but he felt deeply grateful that he was so appreciated, never thinking about this as something like a warning, which it, in fact, was.

He was raised by the royal family and almost always felt like a part of it, despite the fact that almost all family members tried to maintain a certain distance and at some moments wild fear froze on their faces when they looked at him and as if they saw something quite inhuman in him... But in general, he was loved by his family and it is thanks to his simblings that he knows what it is - real care and concern for someone. His parents always instilled in him that when he grew up, he would have no way back; he used to consider himself special, moreover, without even realizing that it was not something great or safe for him. He didn't know that as a teenager, he would be used as a sacrifice for a ritual. He had to be sacrificed for the sake of the eternal rule of his parents, and all this was under the cover of so often seen in royal families, arranged weddings for the sake of an alliance with another kingdom. The man who was to marry him was the one who had to perform the ritual for which Ansel had been prepared since birth. His heavy burden was to blindly give up his life and accept painful death in the name of the eternal life of those who raised him just to kill.

Horrifying betrayal, isn't it?

[laurfilijames]

Shelter From The Storm

Part 3

Pairing: Will Johnson x female reader

Words: 5,052

Warnings: rated E, 18+. Mention of healing gunshot wounds. Fingering and a hand job. Masturbation (M and F). Cum play. Unprotected intercourse.

Summary: With the storm still going strong, you and Will continue to get to know each other and finally give in to temptation despite your best efforts to keep your desires under control, proving that your want for each other outweighs any reasoning.

A/N: What was initially a 3 part story has now turned into 4, so there will be another chapter for you to enjoy after this that includes a bonus smut scene! Surprise!! Thank you to everyone who has read this series so far and to @blairsanne for once again providing me with photos/gifs of this sexy hunter.

Parts 1 and 2

———

The next morning Will woke before you, an almost jittery sort of happiness filling his bones and making him restless. He had carefully slid out of bed so as not to disturb you, dressed and stoked the fire once more, smiling when he stepped outside to retrieve more wood. Rain mixed with snow stung his face in the wind, and he knew you would be staying at least one more day. 

It was like the sun never rose, hidden behind clouds that sat so low they perched on top of the mountains that surrounded the cabin, and Will thought how he’d never curse a storm again. Loneliness had consumed him for so long; the abandonment by his father, his now strained relationship with his mother after her betrayal, not to mention the countless women he’d hooked up with only to lessen his communication until eventually they got the hint and moved on. He didn’t know what it was exactly that brought you here, or how on earth he ever deserved it, but as he sat sipping his coffee while you slept in his bed he thanked the fates or god or whatever the hell was out there, all of which he never before thought existed, that you ended up on his doorstep. Through all that he told you about his life and his past you never once judged him, never made any assumptions about him or used his flaws to slap across his face like a label that defined him. You were forgiving, accepting, and for some reason, you were able to just see him. 

If by some divine reason you were able to stay in some way in his life, he’d be sure to never fuck it up, to do right this time. He stood from his chair to refill his mug, pouring the rest of the coffee in a second one to take with him to the bed. Pausing, he glanced over at the bottle of whiskey he would have bet every dollar on would be empty by now, and the pills rattled in the container as he picked it up and turned it over in his hand. It amazed him what a difference a couple of days could make, what an influence someone like you could have, and he smirked in thinking how much he enjoyed your methods of relieving his pain as opposed to that of the traditional sense. 

The bed dipped when he sat on the edge and he shifted so his legs rested up against your body, happy for not having to brace himself for the pain that used to come when he would move in such a way. 

“The storm is still hanging on, so you’ll have to be my sunshine today,” Will spoke gently, watching you slowly blink into awareness. 

You stretched a bit, feeling a slight ache in your limbs but also the remnants of the pleasure you had been graced with, smiling up at him as he held out a steaming mug for you to take.

“I don’t know how you like it, so I made it the same as mine,” he said, handing it over to you once you sat up. 

“Just milk?” you said as both a question and an answer.

“Just milk.” He nodded, a satisfied smile stretching out his lips that he hid in the rim of his cup. 

You grabbed his hand and interlaced your fingers with his as you took your first sip, making him look at you quizzically.

“Perfect. Thank you.” You tightened your hold on his hand with a squeeze, giving him a sweet smile that shined through your eyes as well, and Will’s heart swelled at knowing he made you happy with such a simple gesture. 

The rest of the day played out about the same; lazy chats over coffee, replenishing wood for the fire, and in between that and the odd meal, heavy kissing sessions that left you both excruciatingly hungry for more. It seemed like every part of the small cabin had become a place for you to fall over each other and kiss until you were desperate for air, your bodies grinding and groping while trying to get a handle on feeling satisfied. 

Even now none of it proved to be enough, having fallen into bed, tucked safely away under the warm covers where you laid on your sides to face each other, Will’s bad side facing the ceiling that continued to be bombarded with the weather. His hands roamed everywhere on you they could, yours doing the same, even carefully grazing over his healing wounds that were currently unbandaged to let breathe, your tongues colliding with each other in languid kisses. 

It was nearly impossible to resist; being naked together, the temptation to let him push inside you outweighing anything else your mind and body told you, if only what you were currently doing didn’t feel so good. Your fingers worked each other with careful skill while your mouths moved together slowly and passionately, both of you appreciating the fun of the build up rather than the main event. It was tantalizing, feeling his cock nudge at your center the odd time you inched closer to deepen a kiss, knowing you would grant permission had he requested it, but something in you kept cautioning with a ‘we shouldn’t’ each time you found yourselves together. It was like you knew it would be a point of no return once you were taken by him, a full submission to the spell you had no problem being under. 

Your leg hooked over his hip, grinding on his hand as he inserted a third finger inside you, your grip on his engorged cock tightening and pumping faster as you began to lose control. 

“I’m fucking close,” Will growled out, his face moving away from your mouth to bury into your neck, desperation making him frenzied. 

The warning only made you proceed, twisting your hand in a way you felt sure would have him surrender to your touch, loving the way he came unglued and allowed himself to be putty in your hands. 

You jerked him until you felt the heat of his spend glaze your stomach, your focus on getting him off leaving your own orgasm temporarily ignored, but Will was quick to act. 

His fingers scooped up and dragged his cum down to your sex, smearing it on your clit and pushing it into your aching heat. You jolted, the beginning stages of your climax going through you like shock waves as they built, each time he slid his fingers in and out of you with his thick seed bringing you closer and closer. He took more cum and spread it on your bundle of nerves, circling his wide thumb over it until you erupted, your hand clamping down on his shoulder as you screamed out even louder than before. Will didn’t relent, continuing to press your clit and fuck you with his fingers, curling them to assault your spongy spot that made your head spin, knowing that you were so remote not another soul would hear your screams, his efforts dragging you into a level of oblivion you’d never been before. 

You rocked against him as you came down, riding out the high you were sure was the most intense one you’ve ever had, feeling slightly coy when you realized you had soaked his bedding again. 

“Hey,” he cooed to you, able to immediately read your expression. “If you think this is a bad thing you’ve got it all wrong.” 

“This has never happened before,” you admitted, looking away from his eyes. 

His chuckle made your heart do a flip, loving the way it sounded and feeling instantly comforted by it. “If I recall correctly it happened last night. And I can guarantee you it won’t be the last time, either.” 

He kissed you fiercely, leaning into you so you were mostly laying on your back, his weight pressing down on you. You could feel the hairs on his belly smearing in the mess that was now locked between you, but the way he kissed you and didn’t seem to be bothered by it made you no longer care either. 

When Will removed his hand from between your legs you shuddered, the nerves in your clit still firing, and you knew it had been deliberate that his thumb happened to graze it, the laugh that vibrated onto you revealing his intentions. 

“I could really use a shower now,” you proclaimed after he pulled away from you slightly, peering down at your midsection. 

“Hmm. Another thing I don’t have. Maybe next time you roll through I’ll have one up and running.” 

“Next time?”

“Well,” he shrugged, licking his lips to try to disguise his bit of embarrassment at openly admitting such a desire. His fingers plucked at a thread hanging loose on the pillow under your head, only making eye contact with you again when yours began stroking the dense hair on his chest.  

“I look forward to seeing what improvements you’ve made.” 

His face lit up at your words, and you thought how you’d like to be the one to do that again and again for him, erasing any doubt he might have, and it was clear he wanted to do the same for you, too. 

“Until then, I can offer to help clean you up,” he said with softness in his eyes and voice. 

“You’re the injured one. Let me look after you.” 

Will didn’t say anything, just watched as you got out of bed and made your way to the kitchen; completely comfortable and having a sense of confidence in knowing where things were kept, like you belonged there. 

“You should stop looking after me,” he said quietly as you crawled back into bed with a wet cloth and a towel. 

One of your eyebrows hooked up at his debate for deserving care, your hands folding the wet cloth as you yourself debated saying what came out of your mouth next. 

“I like looking after something my heart cares for.”

You held each other’s gaze momentarily before you made a start at wiping his lower belly, but his hand took it from yours before you could go any further. 

“Ladies first, eh?” 

Being in the same room as you was proving to be impossible, his corrupted mind imagining fucking you on every surface in the place, and the amount of times you had made each other come but for some reason kept abstaining from actual sex was driving him mad.

It felt forbidden and careless, like something both of you thought shouldn’t happen yet wanted more than anything, which was probably the exact reason why you continued on playing this game, the tension in everything you did and the ache in his cock like nothing he’d ever felt before. 

He watched you like prey, washing dishes from the gourmet dinner of canned soup in the small sink, the act innocent but still evoking an unbelievable ferocity in him. Maybe the fact that you continued to wear nothing but your panties and one of his shirts had something to do with it, and he sighed loudly as he debated whether or not to let you finish your task. 

His teeth clenched together, making his dimples and cheeks flinch and quiver just like his ability to continue restraining from you. Standing and crossing the room in three hammering steps, he gripped your shoulder and spun you around, your surprise muted when he crashed his mouth against yours. His hands carded up your neck, applying a firm pressure on your delicate column that held your hammering pulse, making you moan and sink into him as he leaned his hips deeper against you, pressing your back into the counter. His thigh drove between yours and parted them, the friction created on your core drawing a needy whimper out of you, and Will wondered just how much longer you both could go before finally caving in. 

Ready to test that, he pulled away from you, his forehead leaning against yours, his hands clasped on either side of your face as you shared a panting breath. Despite your surprise in his actions, your eyes held a want in them that he'd seen the times before you had come close to giving in to the act, and you looked at him now with a yearning that set the skin on the back of his neck aflame. 

You returned his kiss, only rougher, setting the tone for how this was going to go. Your hands tore at his shirt, your fingers working swiftly to have the buttons fall open in record speed until you made purchase on his skin, your palms smoothing up his chest. His beard was soft on your lips when you kissed your way along his jaw, the scent radiating from his neck igniting your need to a higher level. It felt as though it was becoming increasingly impossible to get your fill of him, constantly wanting more of him, all of him, your mind and body at constant war with each other the more you toyed with the line of going any further. 

The button on his jeans pulled open, followed by the zipper, your fingers acting rebelliously as they worked to free his stiff member. Your hand dove between his belly and the soft cotton of his boxers, brushing down over the coarse hairs that surrounded his solid appendage until you held it in your grip, stroking it slowly from tip to base. 

"Turn around," he growled, his breathing ragged through his nostrils. You listened, your pulse quickening as you heard him step out of his pants, finally putting his hands on you again once he was naked. Coming up from behind, his arms wrapped around you, his thick fingers carefully undoing the buttons on your shirt one by one. He peeled the flannel from you, your skin erupting in goosebumps as the warmth of it left your body, made worse by his lips peppering wet kisses on your bare shoulder now it was exposed. You caught glimpse of the material on the floor out of the corner of your eye, thinking how the plaid pattern complimented the natural wood floor before your vision blurred and a dizzying pleasure made you close your eyes, swallowing when his hand skimmed up your waist to cup your breast, your nipple pinched lightly between his thumb and forefinger. 

"Will…" 

"I'm right here," he soothed, although the words sounded gruff in his throat, and a shudder tumbled through you when his lips made contact on the space between your neck and shoulder. 

Your head hung and your fingers gripped the worn edge of the counter when you felt him slowly slide your panties down your legs, the sensation of the backs of his fingers ghosting over you testing your temptation, and you knew you were done. 

Your thighs rubbed together, either trying to create a friction between them that you lacked or as an attempt to prevent him from accessing the very spot you needed him to be, and yet you knew what you wanted. 

Will managed to sneak his hand between your legs, rubbing and massaging your flesh in a tantanizingly torturous way, his thumb sliding in your folds when he reached closer to the apex of your trembling limbs. 

"Fuck," you heard him whisper, his control leaving as quickly as every panting breath was from his lungs. You spread your legs a little, no longer able to pretend, and you whimpered when his cock landed between them. He began to move his hips in a way that slid his pulsing cock back and forth against you, his neediness clear in his satisfaction of simply doing this, his moans becoming louder the longer he humped you. 

"What should we do?" His question was reserved, the restraint he felt heard in the slight shake of his voice, and once again you found yourself wanting to give this man everything he wanted. 

"Just touch me…" Your plea was soft, bordering on cautious, like you were settling for something other than what you really wanted him to do. 

He reached around and swiped through your searing, wet folds, spreading your slick up to your clit where he rubbed it in just the right way he knew would get you screaming in no time. Your whole body tingled, already overwhelmed by the building rapture that lay waiting to be woken again, even more so when Will used his other hand to turn your head to look over your shoulder at him, his blue eyes burning intensely before he crashed his mouth onto yours. 

Unable to kiss him how you wanted, you turned around, your hands raking through his hair that was slightly damp at the sides from sweat, deepening the way your tongue met with his. 

The silky skin of his head knocked against your clit and your hands fisted his waves in response, the pulling sensation on his scalp making him growl against you and lean into you more, his hands leaning forward to make purchase on the counter and lock you between his arms. Rather than pulling away from his advancement, you also moved your body forward, closing any space that was available between you, your kissing becoming harder and more fervent. 

You barely recognized yourself in your actions, pushing your body off the counter, your hand clawing at the hair on his chest to force him into a backwards step. It seemed the longer you were in Will’s presence, the more confident you became, bold in your behaviour and expressing your desires, most of the time without realizing it in your poor attempts to abstain from him. 

Will smiled against your lips, loving this dominant side of you, your confidence shining through the more the two of you fooled around. 

You took his hand and pulled him over to the kitchen table, his eyes full of curiosity and a willingness to follow. Perching yourself on it, you returned his eager smile, parting your legs to put on display for him your dripping sex. Will put his hands on his hips, watching you for a moment, giving you a look that was really a silent dare to see what you would do next. 

Never feeling so powerful and lustrous before in your life, you reached between your legs and teased yourself, the low grumble of approval that came from Will encouraging you to slip your fingers inside until your moans filled the room. 

“Do you have any idea how fucking good you look?” 

It was less of a question and more a declaration, spurring you on to continue, your arousal spiking to its highest point when you noticed him take hold of himself and start pumping in languid strokes that contrasted with the look of crazed need on his face. 

You felt like a siren, seducing Will with a sort of enchantment you didn’t know you were capable of until now, and he never looked more pleased to be caught up in it. 

It was impossible to disguise how his compliment made you feel, grinning and biting your lip, his praise making you dip further into your heat until your orgasm was brimming. He’d made you feel so good regardless of the amount of time knowing him, better than you could fathom any man could make you feel, and you basked in his words that held such a genuinity to them that were almost as potent as the way his hands worshiped your body. 

As you carried on you closed your eyes, lost in the way your ground against the heel of your hand, your climax creeping in closer and closer. 

“Will…” his name tumbled from your parted lips, imagining it was him touching you even though you knew that wish could be granted with him standing there. 

Will slowed the movements of his hand, being so close to the edge and ready to blow from watching you fuck yourself, never having seen anything more spectacular in his life. 

His name rang out on repeat, your chant faster as you got closer, and soon you cried out loudly, your body trembling on itself as you came undone. He flew forward, grabbing your flushed cheeks in his hands to kiss you desperately, swallowing your shouts that had died down to softer whimpers. 

“Fuck, you’re such a good girl,” he panted, peppering kisses up along your nose to your forehead, his hips jerking into you when you gripped his leaking cock and coated it with the wetness from your hand. 

You hummed, feeling modest in his praise, and you slowly kissed his chest before looking up at him with pleading eyes. 

Pulling him closer toward you by his cock, he stopped when his thighs met the table, the tip of him resting between your legs, and you were very thankful that the height of the table matched the two of you so well. 

You teased yourself with him, moving his swollen member up and down against your bud that was still so sensitive it made you quiver and moan. Letting go of him, you weaved your fingers in his hair, bringing your face into his again to kiss, your tongues slowly twirling together. Changing the angle of his hips slightly, his cock nestled at your entrance, your tingling lips encasing him, your bodies both eager to do next what came so naturally.  

He slid against you, back and forth, his head pushing more on your hole each time he pressed into you. It was becoming impossible to say no, to deny wanting him to fill you and fuck you until you came around him as he spilled inside your walls, and like it wasn’t your voice your mouth separated from his and murmured, "We shouldn't…" 

It was almost laughable, your words contrasting to the way you were grinding yourself against his cock, not pausing in your actions as the lie was said out loud. 

"You sure about that?" he questioned, peering at you through heavily hooded lids, his tone dark. 

"No," you giggled softly, the sound making his cock twitch, and he covered your mouth with his roughly, turning your giggle into a needy whine. 

The gyrating of your hips proceeded, each stroke dragging you toward a point of no return, and in his efforts of controlling himself or punishing your torturous game, Will bit your bottom lip and broke away from your face, his chest heaving and glistening with sweat in the firelight. 

“Is this what you want?” he asked, looking down at his cock breaching your entrance before staring you down with a gaze you felt pierce your soul. 

You pulled your body into his, pushing him inside you, the noises that left both of your mouths guttural, Will growling through his clenched teeth. He stumbled slightly, either surprised by your abruptness or taken off guard by how good it felt, and he flexed inside you before slowly dragging himself out nearly all the way before slamming back in. It didn’t take long to find a rhythm, both of your needs in sync in terms of pressure and pace, and you marveled at the strength he found in spite of his injury.

His hands groped your thighs, keeping them tight against his body, you locking them around his plump ass like a vice. 

“I didn’t think it was possible for you to feel this good,” he grunted, the statement choppy as it was broken up by his moans. The slapping and squelching sounds made by your bodies fueled your desire and you leaned back to brace your palms flat against the tabletop, the position opening you up more for him to reach even deeper. He didn’t disappoint, his size stretching you out in a wonderfully painful way, each thrust bringing him flush against you with a blow to your clit, and when he added in a slight roll with his hips his coarse hairs created a friction on it that had you crumbling apart faster than ever. 

Will stood straighter, taking notice of the view he never wanted to look away from, watching as he pumped in and out of you, your milky juices soaking him more with each stroke. 

Your breasts bounced in time with the motions created, making him feel even more feral, and seeing his face veil over with raw power sent a shiver down your spine, the sensation matching the pressure bubbling up from deep in your core. 

“Will!” you sang, your voice sounding almost unrecognizable with how taken by ecstasy you were. “I’m so close.”

“That’s my girl,” he growled. “Come for me.” 

Moving harder and faster into you, the table pushed back slightly to hit against the wall which only provided him with more leverage to send you through to your end. Will intended to hold on, wanting to go on fucking you for as long as he possibly could; eager to try every position he was physically able to until you had come more times than could be counted and he finally joined you, but your response to his permission ignited him, catapulting him to come at the same time. Your walls choked his cock and strangled out his spend, pulsing out every bit of it until you were full and he had nothing left to give. He thrusted as hard as he could despite it becoming sporadic, a tingling that shot straight down his spine to his cock making him growl through tightly clenched teeth, a drip of sweat trailing down between his shoulder blades that fell from his curls.

When he slowed, he held your face in his hands, nearly having to hold your head up from how heavy it was from the sated state he put you in, and he kissed you ardently while you recovered and regulated your heart rates. 

As he began to soften he pushed himself further inside you, not wanting to be freed from you yet, and his hands slid up into your hair to keep you firmly in his kiss. 

Shortly after, he slipped out, the mess you created together spilling out of you onto the table, but the way he was kissing you had you ready to not care about anything ever again. Full of passion and emotion, Will seemed to wordlessly pour everything he felt against your lips, relishing the moment both of you hated to see end. Your stomach flipped when he took your hand and rested it against his chest, his heartbeat pounding through to your palm, and you were certain you had never felt this way about anyone before. Your kisses turned softer, and carefully you carded your hand down to his side to gently cover the slowly healing holes that decorated him. Heavy breaths expanded his ribs to push against your hand with each one, and the thin layer of sweat that coated him transferred onto it. 

Your kiss broke momentarily as your lips hovered against each other, “Bed?” you asked in a murmur, wanting to lay beside him and be even closer than you had just been.  

“Yeah,” he agreed, holding your hand in his to guide you over. 

Taking notice of your surroundings again, you paused, realizing the wind had died down to no longer blow against the sides of the cabin in a crushing grip, and the rain had turned into a soft tap on the steel roof over your head.  

“Everything alright?” 

“Hm? Yeah, fine,” you lied, trying to shove down the growing panic you felt at having to deal with what you knew was coming tomorrow. 

Will slid beneath the crumpled bedding first, and you followed closely behind, any moment apart from him feeling stolen by what little time you knew you had left. 

You didn’t want to sleep, only wanting to use these fleeting minutes memorizing him and how his skin felt to your touch. Crawling to lay on top of him, you placed your torso between his legs and leaned your face into him, breathing him in before carefully placing kisses between each of the marks that would soon be scars, his hum of approval making his belly flex and your eyes fluttered shut when his hand raked through your hair. Once you were satisfied you had kissed every bit of him between his chest and his waist, your finger traced a trail down the middle of the ten bullet holes like a maze, ending at his hip bone. 

Both of you remained quiet, soaking in these intimate moments while your brains scrambled to make sense of it all. 

How could you tell a man you didn’t know that your heart belonged to him, that you loved every bit of him you came to know in such a short amount of time? 

His fingers listlessly stroked your arms and back, his thumb smoothing circles into your skin, and as you looked out the window at the billions of twinkling dots that patterned the black sky, you cursed it. Turning your head to face away from the window, you stroked the hair on his arm that rested on his stomach and nestled into him more, never imagining you could think a sky full of stars would be something you didn’t wish to see. 

Will leaned slightly, reaching his arm over to pull the curtain shut impatiently, desperate to ignore what was on the other side. Wrapping his arms around you tightly, he kissed your hair and sighed, feeling a constriction in his chest that was full of fear and doubt. Neither of you were going to sleep, on edge from thinking what goodbye would look like tomorrow, so you would just have to make the most of tonight. 

As if you had heard his silent request, you lifted your head and met his lips in a passionate kiss, inching your body up to line up with his to connect together again. His hand gripped your leg and pulled it up to hook high over his hip, pushing into you inch by inch until he stretched you out again. You moaned into his mouth, your tongues colliding as you set an unhurried pace, wanting to savour this as long as possible.

———

Taglist

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[maxwell-grant]

Asking because apparently he has a crossover with the Shadow and the Spider : do you have any thought on Peter Cannon, Thunderbolt ?

(Spoilers for, all of the Peter Cannon stories basically)

While there’s been a lot of discussion around the Gillen/Wijngaard 2019 mini and it is, easily, the best comic made with the character and one I’d heartily recommend to everyone, I’m instead gonna be talking more here about Peter Cannon the character, who turned out to be a much more fascinating rabbit hole of information to dive into than I’d expected. Much like his stolen costume implies, Cannon is a character of dualities and contradictions.

Peter Cannon is actually owned by the estates of Pete Morisi, his original creator. In other words, it's a creator-owned superhero from an era which tended to have the rights consumed by the corporate bodies. When you compare and contrast to Watchmen's eventual fate, that's a fun one for me to think about - Kieron Gillen

He is not just another Charlton survivor drastically altered and fragmented by the Watchmen cataclysm: he is this epistolary composite of several different characters and ideas in conversation with each other, characters whose legal rights and defining traits are all over the place and still kind of building up on each other even now. He is, simultaneously, more fragmented than his Charlton brothers, and yet the only one who’s been able to remain consistent over the decades. Peter’s roots go back further than theirs, even though he is currently exiled from the universe they’ve been relocated to, a state of affairs that in some ways makes it so that he is, at once, more trapped under Watchmen’s shadow, as well as more free from it.

He's like a weird game of telephone that started in the crudest beginnings of the Golden Age superheroics, and with at least one touchstone every couple of decades all the way until today (he got a new series announced this year even), with different characters all inspired by each other and ripping off each other to various degrees existing separately across 80+ years, each belonging to different rights holders and universes, oscilating wildly in popularity, influence, and just how much they have in common with each othe, but still telling a long-running story as if they were one and the same, which they are and aren’t.

We have the original sources (and ensuing riffs or public-domain usages of said sources), the creation of knock-off created due to licensing issues who’d become an established character in his own right, different attempts at remixing the source ingredients ultimately creating knock-off of a knock-off, the badboy knock-off of the original knock-off who’d catch on with the times and go on to be massively popular, and then things would break down as said knock-offs start to congeal together in fragmented mirror freakshows of each other that have to exist together and who knows what’ll happen from there.

Or, I guess to try and put it more simply,

-cough-

Cannon’s even had more than a couple of separate “universes” and superhero casts built around him, by virtue of the fact that his comics cannot have access to the actual Charlton supporting cast, so they have to fill in for stand-ins, and because he’s under that pulp/public domain zone, his comic runs don’t really have any continuity with each other, except they kind of do, because they are all building up on each other even if just thematically. The Cannon Canon is rather limited, and every writer who tackles the character has had to go back and dig into the prior runs to find.

Peter Cannon being several entities in one isn’t even just a facet of their turbulent publishing history, it’s an aspect that’s actually made it’s way into their stories proper. The 90s DC run established that Peter is the reincarnation of the monastery’s greatest hero Varja (a misspelling of vajra, a divine weapon/tool which symbolizes the properties of a thunderbolt). The 2012 run took a plot point from the classic run that was Peter’s manifesting a life-like dragon illusion to scare a villain into retreating (and how that ended up foretelling Ozymandias’ whole “world peace through giant squid attack” plan), and made the storyline about how Peter Cannon-Thunderbolt and The Dragon, the world-conquering threat he called upon to defeat and enact a benign version of Veidt’s plan, were one and the same. And the 2019 run had Peter’s development born from encounters with two separate versions of himself: Thunderbolt, the Ozymandias stand-in who’s been repeating alien genocides across worlds for 30 years in the hopes of it eventually working, and Pete Cannon, a professor who lives a fulfilling human life in a world without superheroes.

Peter Cannon is Bill Everett’s Amazing-Man using Daredevil’s costume and setting (said Daredevil would go on to appear again and again Death-Defying Devil and any number of different names the character’s appeared under because his original name is taken and his characterization can be anything). Peter Cannon is Thunderbolt. He is The Dragon. He is Iron Fist, who is another rich white blonde masked adventurer/vigilante/martial artist rework of Everett’s Amazing-Man. He is Adrian Veidt, who is Ozymandias. He is Thunderbolt from another world, who is Peter Cannon as well as Ozymandias and Dr Manhattan. He is Pete Cannon. He will probably be something else in the near future as well, as a response to the world around him.

His original 60s stories capitalized on the increasing interest in martial arts and martial arts philosophies, the perpetual Western fascination with buddhism and Tibet and love of orientalist tropes that had taken on, shall we say more benign forms, compared to the early 1910s or 1930s, with Peter Cannon being both the ultimate White Savior, as well as someone who wants nothing whatsoever to do with said “whiteness” and the world outside of the monastery, and that being such an inescapable aspect of his entire backstory and make-up, that it forces writers into a dilemma as to how they deal with it, and thus, find ways to make it workable. His 90s run was heavily focused on post-Cold War politics, Peter’s PTSD as well as reworking him into a better, more compassionate hero as a response to Ozymandias as well as working with the idea that Peter would eventually go on to join the DCU, which didn’t happen. The 2012 series takes a broader focus on disarmament and recontextualizing the character, and the 2019 series is pointedly about a lot of things and many of them have to do with Watchmen and the broader superhero genre, but also where Peter stands in said genre and world, what is it that this character speaks to or about.

What fascinates me is how utterly reluctant Peter Cannon is to get involved. He mostly wants to chill with his best mate, Tabu. Stories are often about the push and pull between Peter Cannon (who wants to just study the ancient scrolls and be left alone) and Tabu (who wants him to go and be the Superhero Thunderbolt.) This happens again and again through the run, almost to the point of comedy. It's rare that you see a superhero who needs as much pushing to do something.

He’s like a more responsible early Peter Parker. Actually, he’s like if Peter Parker had better ethics and morals. And with Tabu it’s like Uncle Ben never died.

The push and pull between Peter Cannon the man and Thunderbolt the hero is the interesting weird part of it. We're led to someone who's Sherlock-Holmes smart, with a similar distance, but has nothing but contempt for the world's mainstream civilizations. Why be a superhero when this is the world he's protecting? At the same time he doesn't - as Ozymandias did in Watchmen - fall into the trick of believing just because he knows more he gets to tear it all down.

It’s to some degree close to the trope of the white savior, but rather than someone like, say, Iron Fist, the interesting thing is Peter Cannon literally has not earned it. He’s not the best or anything else. He didn’t choose his path. He knows he’s not worthy. He’s an apex human, but he’s an apex human because of this other civilization that is better than we are.

If you ask 99 out of 100 superhero comic fans to tell you something about Peter Cannon, they’ll say inspiration for Ozymandias. You can’t avoid that. As a device to talk about influence and how comics change, with Peter Cannon you cannot avoid the ghost of Ozymandias.

But it has to be bigger than that - Kieron Gillen on Thunderbolt

I find it interesting also how Peter’s personality contrasts with what he is, what makes him more interesting than the typical white savior. He didn’t find a magical monastery amidst general globetrotting, he wasn’t rescued and taught magic martial arts and decided to use them to go and fight crime, he quite literally had no choice in the matter. He was born in the monastery (or taken there as a 6-month old baby), his parents died due to a plague he just barely survived, and he was raised by monks for 20 years and decreed to be The Chosen One (whether by the sheer improbability of his arrival and survival there, or as a gesture of honor toward his parents), and then instructed to return home and help others in his native land, a land he had no memory or fondness or any attachment for.

He grew up in a fantasy land of great knowledge and compassion and magic that was constantly targeted by a rotten and corrupt outside world trying to destroy and plunder it it, and then he was ordered as an adult to go live in that rotten and corrupt world and fix it because it’s where he comes from, having superheroism thrust upon him by no choice of his own. The rest of the world looks at him with awe and wonder and fear because he’s a Great Man capable of impossible things, things that to him are basic and banal and things he hasn’t really mastered as much as he could or should. At the same time he complains about the world outside home, he’s also driven to prove himself, to live up to his calling as The Chosen One, and it sucks. Being The Chosen One sucks for him, sucks in general, and it’s what he is. I think there’s a lot of potential to a superhero take on The Chosen One that fully explores just how awful that trope is and how disastrous it could be to said hero (Griffith from Berserk is one example of that)

It’s an interesting position he’s coming from as to why he’s a reluctant hero, why he’s so removed from his call. Even before Ozymandias, there's an aspect of Peter Cannon's core concept that makes him feel indeed like he's being more forced into heroism than anything and that, under different circumstances, it wouldn’t take much to push him into villain territory to begin with. Which is why his runs are so preoccupied with Cannon’s humanity, Cannon’s connections to the people around him, and Tabu specifically, that make him human. It’s where this impossible superhuman genius Great Man with the world on his shoulders, trying to navigate an impossible position with catastrophic room for error, with such proven potential for darkness, gets to breathe easy and find help, remember that saving the world is never a one-person job and that he is not alone.

I love how this is consistently where all three of his last major runs have ended on, in the 90s with his growing humanity and friendship with Tabu, in the 2012 mini where Tabu and the Charlton stand-ins come to save him at the end, and in the 2019 mini where he is forced to acknowledge his own failings, his own self-described lack of personhood and the consequences of a genius far removed from humanity making decisions for it, so that he might overcome them and grow into a better man and friend, and that’s how we end with this,

some 60 or 80+ years of storytelling for this character, and the other characters he’s been, somehow forming a remarkably coherent character arc through it all and a promising future, or at least, the potential for one. Not that this was necessary for reading said run or getting to this moment, but going through the entirety of the Peter Cannon Canon before rereading the 2019 mini definitely gave me much needed context for the character, and also reaffirmed that this kiss, this development of Peter and Tabu’s dynamic? This was a long time coming. Come what may, I’m terribly interested in what else will come out of this strange and fascinating amalgam of comics history (so long as it doesn’t have a certain raccoon man’s name attached to it) and what the future holds for Peter Cannon and whatever else he may be next.

[masterofdemise]

Thank you @lady-lazagna for sending the ask!

Anyway, so I think it is absolutely NO surprise that when I say "mysterious unlikely helpers", if you follow my art enough, you'll know it's none other than Pluto and Johannes. Now, knowing me, this is a long one so sit tight.

"But Alexis? Pluto died, how did he come back?"

I RESURRECTED HIM WITH THE POWER OF COPIU-okay serious answer. I'm still finding the exact answer for it, but in some lucky twist of fate for Pluto, because he was not the Child of the Black Sun and therefore deemed "unworthy", he was in simple terms, "rejected" by Nemesis and after some time of sitting inside of it, he was sent back into the living realm. Yada yada yada, he encounters Dynamis and a whole bunch of drama occurs before eventually everyone knocks some sense into Pluto and Pluto decides he will not go on more troubling tasks to condemn the world. Wanting to right the many wrongs he did, he donates a good portion of his fortune away to aid people in need, and starts working at the WBBA to try and make up for what he did since just sitting in jail won't do much to help anyone.

In the meanwhile, during the six months he was missing, Johannes and the rest of the Nemesis gang were stuck in Metal Bey City and without any direction or idea on what to do with their lives, they wallowed around for a bit until Elysse knocked sense into the four and convinced them to start up a business (aka, Cafe Lynx). After establishing the cat cafe, since it was so close, Felicity decided to pay a visit and that is where she started talking with Johannes. Since the two were such cat fanatics, they became quick friends of sorts and engaged in gossip. Especially with Fifionne and He Li Hua not around as much due to Li Hua being busy and Fifionne doing AWOL, Felicity gets to at least relax at the new cat cafe. Even though she became aware of Johannes's involvement in the world destroying incident, knowing what she did with Fifionne, she let it slide and gave Johannes a chance.

After Pluto comes back, he takes up a position as manager of the cafe, as well as a worker with the WBBA. Since Felicity is such a frequent visitor, Pluto meets her and they become friends.

Here is the real important stuff, and a huge spoiler( but also not really since it's not like I'll have the energy to type this all out into a story). When He Li Hua calls Felicity about Fifionne being missing, Felicity says she has not heard from Fifionne since the Nemesis incident (which was by the time Li Hua called, eight months ago).

This is a lie.

Felicity not only saw her almost right after Nemesis was defeated to analyze Fifionne's new Divine Fox, but she also saw Fifionne one month ago. In truth, Felicity KNEW something was deeply wrong with Fifionne and panicked heavily after Fifionne threatened her to not interfere with her plans. With the way she was behaving, Felicity likened it to another Ryuga-like incident in the way that Fifionne was not only being influenced by a dark-force(Tamamo), but by how much Fifionne seemed to be motivated by revenge. Knowing the authorities probably would not be able to do much against her friend and even if they did it probably would not go well, she decided it would be easier to enlist the help of other people.

As a result, she turns over to both Pluto and Johannes two weeks before He Li Hua makes the call. Knowing the two have expertise in not only tracking people down, but because they have the experiences of being former evil-doers and schemers, she is willing to pay the both of them for the job. Pluto refuses the money since the two do not really need it, and Pluto is trying to do it out of kindness. With that, the two start their investigation without ever informing the WBBA. Pluto does go on to inform the WBBA about this later, but only after Li Hua shows up.

Fast forward to when Li Hua travels to Japan on impulse to look for clues on Fifionne, Felicity panics. Not only does she know that Li Hua will absolutely despise Pluto and Johannes for being a part of their search, but because Fifionne also threatened Felicity to not get Li Hua involved. Not wanting Li Hua to figure out the truth and trying to solve the Fifionne problem as quietly as possible, she keeps quiet and plays up the lie. Li Hua ends to the WBBA for information where they finally learn of her disappearance. With the assumption that Felicity knows as much as Li Hua (when she doesn't), Li Hua leaves for Kyoto for answers while Felicity has more time to try and wrap things up.

Unfortunately, Li Hua does manage to come back with information and continues bugging Felicity about the search. Knowing she won't be able to go on the search for herself, she gives up on keeping Pluto and Johannes's roles a secret and asks Li Hua to go to Cafe Lynx without her. It is there where Li Hua almost blows a fuse at Felicity when she realizes who exactly Felicity enlisted the help of. As mad as Li Hua is, this is all so they can find Fifionne and Li Hua has no choice but to let it slide.

I'll leave it at that since those are the main bits of information that need to be known for the setup. Essentially, Felicity has been working with Pluto and Johannes behind Li Hua's back because Felicity is not only worried about Li Hua and Fifionne encountering one another, but because she believes Pluto and Johannes will be the best for the job. He Li Hua is absolutely infuriated and feels betrayed that Felicity is so willing to work with people she sees as the "lowest scum of the Earth", but she sets her differences aside just for a bit because Li Hua cares more about Fifionne's safety. There is going to be a lot more drama that occurs soon after Li Hua talks more with the two, but that can be discussed another time when I feel like not shutting up.

[casskeeps]

the wedding of peleus and thetis - dinos by sophilos

basic facts

date - c580-570 bce

style - early black figure

original location - ever so sorry but i have no clue we just know it was made in attica

function - dinos - mixing water and wine

size - 28.8cm tall, 42cm wide/deep

context

similar to perseus and the gorgons ! we're in attica, moving away from the corinthian tradition of decorating using rows of animal processions and floral patterns, and starting to prioritise the attic preferences of narratives - this pot shows the wedding of peleus and thetis! if these guys seem familiar, they should - thetis was a goddess of the sea and the mother of achilles ! it's also good to remember that this wedding is where eris brought the golden apple to start some divine infighting (and also the trojan war).

we know that this pot was painted by sophilos, because he signed the pot - this is the earliest attic potter that we can actually name! he signed "sophilos painted me" between the columns of peleus' house (not in english though !! ancient greeks did not speak modern english).

content

friezes of processing animals - again, we have some corinthian influence with the filling of space done by repeating figures of processing animals. these are less carefully done - the shapes are not quite as regular

floral pattern and animals - he's just not serving as much cunt as the gorgon painter - his floral pattern is less intricate than the one on the perseus+gorgons dinos

narrative frieze - LONG ASS PROCESSION - this shit is SO LONG it goes on forever and ever and ages. lots of gods and godly figures, some chariots.

then we have a cute lil repeating band at the top ! just to finish off the pot - this is also done a little bit haphazardly and there are a few inconsistencies with the incision

list of names to try to remember (as per the british museum):

peleus

dionysos, hebe, cheiron

zeus + hera

poseidon + amphitrite

hermes + apollo

ares + aphrodite

fates + graces + muses

athene + artemis

oceanus + tethys

eileithyia

hephaistos

stylistic features

the procession of gods

there are so many labels - this guy could write and wanted EVERYONE to know

as well as the labels, there is some use of item symbolism to demonstrate which person is which - peleus has a kantharos in his hand, dionysos is carrying a vine rod, etc. however, i'm going to go out on a limb and suggest that the easiest to recognise is cheiron because he has four whole legs (i HATE THEM why does he have two human legs and two horse legs)

hebe is SERVING. she's got the cutest dress ever which is a microcosm of the whole pot with its bands

we do have a little bit of attempt to show 3d concepts - some of the figures overlap, whereas others are in isolation. this adds a bit of variation to the very long line created by the procession

black-figure technique/era - specific points

incision has been used to create patterns and details, like the items that various characters are holding. but, as per early black figure, the lines are jerky and it makes telling what people are holding very difficult.

we have some painting ! there is purple paint on the robes of cheiron and dionysos, white paint on the flesh of hebe (it is important to note that white paint flakes off due to a chemical reaction with the clay !)

again, these guys have no clue what people look like under their clothes - hebe's stripy dress looks like it's still on the hanger because there is absolutely no indication that she is not flat as a board underneath it. similarly, cheiron's robe also looks very very flat. archaic artists just don't really understand how people look under their clothes (see: the sounion kouros - if i had three ribs per side and shoulderblades that were just concave lines i think i would be dead)

it's black-figure, we're going to be complaining about the anatomy. we still have the profile head with the full frontal eye, but we also have very long digits - those fingers and toes are LONG and i don't want them anywhere near me.

composition

decorative friezes

there is some symmetry here - if we take the floral design in the middle as our centre point, there is symmetry in that band, but again, we have a weird disjointed feeling looking down the pot. two rows below this design, the animals have a similar line of symmetry, but the frieze between breaks this vertical line

lots of emphasis on the horizontals - there are a few straight horizonal lines painted, maybe as a guide for the designs, maybe as a conscious decision - the one below the narrative frieze does act as a floor, so that one gets a pass from me

narrative frieze

the use of a procession is so good for a dinos bc it's a long ass space to fill, so what better to fill it in with than a long ass line ?

another time to remind you of hebe's dress - a mini version of the whole pot

lots of repeating shapes due to the monotony of the procession - you might be able to argue that the inverted "v" shape of the legs acts as a jagged-tooth pattern to draw the eye to the labels and heads.

scholarly references

"for the first time we see a long multifigure frieze ... devoted to a single major theme" - boardman

sophilos "liked the written word and made abundant use of it" - woodford

"conventionally and rather carelessly" - woodford

"ambitious, lively, but rarely precise" - boardman

final thoughts !!

i do not love this pot - i think it's clear that his intention was to portray the scene instead of decorating the pot for the sake of aesthetics. i would make a snarky comment about how he had to label the gods because he wasn't good enough at depicting them to make them identifiable but that is not the point of this - instead i will place more emphasis on the fact that it's cool we have written words on this pot.

[12pt-times-new-roman]

c3e53

DDB watch: No sponsor!

There is a sponsor from Honor Among Thieves, though, so take that as you will. The movie is, of course, being funded by Hasbro, and if I remember correctly, this movie could be more important to WotC than D&D Beyond sponsors. So I will personally be boycotting the movie, and if you care about WotC's OGL shenanigans at all, I would suggest you do the same. (Remember: pirating Hasbro products is a victimless crime!)

Chetney returns later in the night. "I didn't--" "It's okay." "I didn't mean--" "It's okay."

With a nat20 arcana check, Chetney remembers that Catha's influence has always been something he's fought to keep under control, but he has always been able to control it before. But because lycanthropy is classed as a curse, it's a magical effect, and it's amplified by the energy of the solstice, making it more difficult for Chetney to retain control.

"I enjoyed it! You were so alive! I shot you in face, multiple times!" Frida my beloved. This is such an interesting reaction for them to have, because who's to say that Aeormatons weren't programmed to be used as test subjects and punching bags?

"No, it's great! I just hold your fate in my hands, that's all." a dm always fulfills his threats

How has it taken me this long to realize that "Frida" sounds the same as "free to" when said with Frida's accent?

Deanna and Frida have lived in Uthodurn for about four years. They live in the house where Deanna's family used to live; they make money by selling Deanna's wares (knitting, mostly) and trading things from their expeditions.

The solstice is also messing with the ever-burning lanterns and enchanted lights that line the central streets of Uthodurn, making them very dim or non-functional.

Many businesses are closed, as well as the temple dedicated to the All-Hammer. The temple being closed is something that never happens.

Chetney sees Oltgar's Chest, where he used to work. It looks like it's expanded, and it has a second floor now. Also, Chetney stabbed Oltgar in the hand, in addition to stabbing someone in the knee.

They arrive at the Vellum Steeple, and there's no one at the front desk, but at a call, a dwarven man appears. Surface thoughts are that he -- along with everyone else in the Steeple -- is trying to figure out what's going on. They don't seem to know much about the solstice itself. They're frustrated to the point of not having time to deal with the Bells Hells right now, because the Steeple isn't technically open to the public right now.

There are 15 or so people inside the Steeple, and the one who seems to be in charge is an elven woman with a pompadour hairdo. This is the same person Matt described at the Steeple in a leadership position in C2E74 -- Scribewarden Ressia Uvessik (she/they).

According to her, the solstice is deeply diminishing divination magic specifically, including clairvoyance, augury, and scrying. Long-standing enchantments have been disabled, including teleportation circles. Inter-city contact is cut off. Given this description, I don't think it's specific to divination magic -- the lights and sending are both evocation magic, and teleportation circle is conjuration.

The Vellum Steeple has sent parties to the Dwendalian Empire and to Rosohna. This is super interesting to me, and is definitely an indicator of political relationships in the continent -- this means that Uthodurn, or at least the Cobalt Soul (which I believe oversees part of the Vellum Steeple) has a positive relationship with the Kryn Dynasty.

FCG/Ashton good cop/bad cop is out, FCG/Deanna good cop/bad cop is in

wait, FCG has access to 5th level spells! They can cast commune!

That dimming of magic affected everything. Uthodurn is facing an issue of escaped prisoners, whose magical binds were weakened enough for them to escape. Some long-standing enchantments of the like have been weakened -- Travis specifically mentions artifacts like the horn of Orcus, but guess fucking what? The same thing applies to the shackles of the Chained Oblivion!

Oh, the teleportation circles were shattered. They weren't just disabled for a time, they were broken. Which means, as per the spell, it will take a year to re-establish them.

Invisible, Chetney overhears quite a few things. People are trying to find the underlying source of the enchantments maintaining Uthodurn's lighting; the high priests of Uthodurn's temples are filled with anxiety and worship services have been cancelled; and a lot of people are just pouring through history that involves a mass loss of arcana.

A loud metallic clang reverberates throughout the city. The room pauses for a minute before going back to their work. This is the walls between discs slamming closed, bet your ass.

Chetney opens a double door and finds a research chamber. There are no people inside, but it's decorated like an office with bookshelves, glass trinkets, and a brass orrery. There are full maps of the city, as well as all of the mines that have expanded outward; ledgers and papers that speak of who originally created many of the city's enchantments; historical pages and scrolls that talk about mass dispelling events (though these have been small, usually localized, and city block-sized). There's a large map of Exandria, but otherwise, nothing that would indicate research beyond Uthodurn or Wildemount.

As she walks in, Chetney realizes that this is the Scribewarden's personal office. She is accompanied by two other people, both of whom she asks to research Ludinus Da'leth and the Cerberus Assembly. She downs a vial of dark brown liquid (possibly a potion of enhance ability, haste, or some other spell that would help their research).

Leaving the Vellum Steeple, the Bells Hells find that the gates between the discs have been closed. Royal guards and Glassblades both are surrounding the gate, with their back to it and pushing crowds away. Some are wounded and bloodied.

Through smaller gates in the wall, nobles, soldiers, and other anxiety and fear-filled people are filtering into the Liberation Disk from the Grand Disk. In the center of that group are the king and queen of Uthodurn, who look spooked and are trying to calm the crowd around them.

FCG's spell save is only 15?? what the fuck Sam?

Frida has a +11 perception, so one of their expertise skills is perception (4 prof + 3 wis + 4 expertise).

"Are we sealed in here?" "Yep! Because FCG decided to run in--" "We're going to prove our worth to the gods!" oh my god. oh my god. is this a self-fulfilling prophecy? is the exact thing that Talisein said during this week's 4SD about to come to pass?

On the other side of the wall, they see..... bodies. Civilians and guards alike. Most unmoving, all marred with slashes. Deanna saves a young royal guard. "What did this to you? "It was this... this fuckin' statue. The one they keep in the citadel. It just... came to life, started killing folks, we had to rush everyone out..."

Interesting note: bioluminescence still seems to function, since various types of flowers and fungus along the walls are still glowing.

Down the way, the Bells Hells see the shadow of a quadrupedal beast with a purplish, ruddy coloration to it. It looks ghostly and material at the same time, and the sounds it makes are as if it has hooved feet.

The guard notes that the statue had been decoration for a long time -- "a statue of one of the great beasts of the Veluthil."

The Veluthil is the former name of the Savalirwood. When Molaesmyr fell to ruin (about 300 years prior to C3), the surrounding forest was horribly corrupted; half of its majority-elven population fled to Bysaes Tyl, which was later assimilated by the Dwendalian Empire, and the other half fled to Uthodurn, where they were taken in and formed the diarchy. The Veluthil was renamed to the Savalirwood, after the elven word for guilt ("savalir").

Break time!

The citadel of Uthodurn looks like a crystal tornado, frozen in place, descending from the top of the 100-foot ceiling of the Grand Disk.

The beast is half material, half ethereal, held together with energy that glows like starlight. It's not actively stalking or rampaging -- it looks confused, like it's looking for something.

As a statue, it was kept on a pedestal in the throne room of the citadel.

Imogen approaches the throne room and sees the bull circling the pedestal where it sat. It isn't a beast or a humanoid; by opening her mind, Imogen senses a brain and an intelligence, but it's alien. It's emotion, not words. She senses anger, frustration, confusion, fear, and longing. It seems to be lost, sad, furious, working on bestial instincts.

Initiative!

Frida's brand of Aeormaton has the "Living Shield" racial ability, allowing them to use their reaction to impose disadvantage on an attack roll against a creature adjacent to them.

It's both a celestial and a beast, and just fails Fearne's charm.

FCG tries to speak to it after casting tongues on it. "If you can understand me, tell us where you want to go, and we can try to help you get there." "I don't know how I got here. I need to get home... to the forest. Where do I go? Where is home?" It doesn't speak with language or words -- it projects emotions that are interpreted into words.

Casting tongues on the creature itself is a fucking brilliant move. This way, everyone can understand it, and it can understand everyone.

Deanna reaches the plaque. It reads, "in memoriam of the fall of Molaesmyr."

So, what's the deal here? Was this thing petrified by people in Uthodurn? Did they find it already petrified by the corruption of the Savalirwood or Molaesmyr itself? If it was petrified by the elves of Molaesmyr, why? Did they need to get it out of the way in order to go forward with their experiments, and if so, is that why the forest was able to be corrupted in the first place? If so, was it Ludinus who ordered it?

The plaque being in elvish implies that it was not brought here by the dwarves;

Fearne's charm fades, but they had four animal handling checks over 20. "Show me where out is."

"Were you from another plane of existence? Do you know?" "I was from the forest. I was the sentinel beast, Umudara. Where is out?"

With a 29 persuasion check, Imogen gets the guards to open the siege gates. On the other side, there are hundreds of Glassblades and royal guards. Hitting the captain of the guard with calm emotions gets them out of the way of Umudara as he makes his way through.

The Bells Hells make their way up the Auger Trail, escorting Umudara out of the city.

"I don't sense it. Where?" "To the south. That way." "...thank you."

"How many of those things are imprisoned throughout Exandria? They can't-- it's not natural."

oh my god Chetney is still in the throne room, I repeat, Chetney is still in the throne room--

He carves his initials into the leg of one of the thrones, and looks for gems imbedded on them. "Oh, they are very well adorned--" "They ain't so well adorned now!"

The thrones are carved from a kind of tree that used to exist in the Veluthil. "It's a unique mixture of pale gray bark with deep maroon layer of bark, like hardened sap that wraps around that climbs up and twists around." Interestingly enough, this description is the same as the one Matt gave for the odd-looking trees that were near the Gorgynei village.

He also finds an engraving of the All-Hammer, and a switch on it opens the door behind the thrones, through which Chetney promptly goes. It descends beneath the disk in a long, curving tunnel, and eventually exits from the base of a massive statue of a tree near the entrance to the Grand Disk.

Udumara heads southward, alone, to find the Savalirwood (and possibly Molaesmyr). I really hope he gets to the Blooming Grove and gets to help the Clays fix the Savalirwood.