alternative-sxe-girl

[radmista]

jesus fuck i feel bad for your poor girlfriend. just tell her you're a radfem

My gf knows I hold radical feminist views. Even before we've dated, I've talked openly and loudly about female liberation and sex based oppression, abortion access, hookup culture making young teens think theyre abnormal for not craving sex at 15, my thoughts on shaving, etc. She's even told me that talking about these things has helped her not feel the compulsion to shave her arms anymore.

She knows I'm a feminist and that I have radical views. The only thing I've never explicitly stated is that I'm gender critical of the trans movement as well (bc in general, this is social suicide and I have a career I want to protect). I have spoken about my gender critical views, I just don't call them that in conversation. Like I've ranted about the usage of terms like "boy clothes" and "boymode" to describe comfortable lounge clothing and that clothing has no gender. We've even debated about single sex spaces and even talked about JKR's funding of Beira's place. Like shockingly, we can disagree on things and still be together.

Idk what the point of your message really was. Is it "your poor gf" bc I complain about her very gendie/tumblr-q***r viewpoints? Or do you feel bc I'm a radfem it makes me a bad partner and that my gf is suffering by being partnered with me? I love her and want the best for her, but it doesn't stop me from being frustrated when she supports a movement that infringes on womens rights. I feel like I'm allowed to complain on my personal feminist tumblr about that lol

[novaursa]

Chains of Flame

- Summary: Aegon conquers the North, breaks your betrothal to Torrhen, and takes you as his third wife.

- Paring: sister!reader/Aegon I Targaryen (one-sided)

- Note: These events happen right before The Broken Crown. @oxymakestheworldgoround I hope you like it. 🙂

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @fiction-fanfic-reader @fireandblood-mharmie @poisonedsultana

The Northmen stand silent, their breath hanging in the cold air as Aegon Targaryen, now styled the Conqueror, steps forward. You watch from a raised platform, your heart hammering as you take in the sight below. Torrhen Stark, King in the North, stands proud and unyielding before the might of the dragonlord. His eyes flicker briefly to you, a look filled with sorrow and a hint of betrayal.

Aegon's voice booms over the gathered men, a stark contrast to the cold stillness of the North. "I accept your submission, Torrhen Stark. You are no longer King in the North, but Warden, sworn to me and mine."

Torrhen nods stiffly, his face a mask of stoic calm. He removes the crown himself, placing it at Aegon's feet. It is a small thing in that moment, the act of surrender, but it feels like a shifting of the world. You feel the weight of it like a stone in your chest.

Aegon gestures, and you see the great crown of the North picked up by Orys Baratheon’s hand. The sight of it, soon to be discarded, makes something in you clench.

But then Aegon speaks again, and you know this is not over. “There is another matter, Torrhen Stark, that we must settle.” His voice is iron, unyielding. “The betrothal arranged by your father—between my sister and you—is no more.”

A murmur spreads through the assembled lords and bannermen. Your breath catches in your throat, though you had known this moment was coming. The promise made to you, to the North, is shattered in an instant, and the sting of betrayal mingles with relief and fear.

Torrhen’s face pales, his jaw tightening. For the first time, his composure wavers. He glances at you again, and you see the raw pain in his eyes. He does not speak, but you can feel the weight of his silent agony. His mouth opens, then closes, as if words would betray the storm raging within him.

Aegon turns to the gathered Northmen, his presence commanding, his tone brooking no dissent. “I will take Y/N as my third wife, joining her to me as a true queen of Westeros. This is the will of the Conqueror. No man will challenge it.”

The crowd erupts, voices rising in surprise and dismay. The North had seen you as their own, a bridge between the frozen lands and the fiery South. And now, you are being taken from them, claimed by the dragon.

You feel Torrhen’s gaze on you, and you force yourself to meet it. His pain is a spear to your heart, for you had cared for him, in your way. He was to be your husband, your future, a man who respected and honored you. But it was not love, not in the way Aegon’s presence invades your thoughts, dominates your heart despite your resentment.

“I will come to Winterfell,” Aegon continues, his voice softer now, though no less commanding. “To claim her, as is my right. But I will grant you, Torrhen Stark, time to bid her farewell.” His eyes flick to you, and for a moment, the steel in his gaze softens. “I understand my sister holds you in high regard.”

You want to lash out, to rage at the unfairness of it all. He took your future and made it his own. Aegon’s jealousy, his possessiveness, had bound you to him in chains of blood and fire, and now he stands here, triumphant, while the North mourns the loss of its promised queen.

Torrhen bows his head, the weight of his defeat pressing down on his shoulders. “I thank you for your mercy, my lord,” he says, the words clipped and tight. He does not look at you again, and the distance between you feels like an insurmountable chasm.

The ceremony ends, and Aegon turns to you, his hand reaching out. The crowd parts as you descend, every step heavy, the eyes of the North upon you. When you take Aegon’s hand, his grip is firm, possessive, and something in you breaks.

“I will not forget this, brother,” you whisper harshly as he leads you away, your voice low so only he can hear. “You have taken everything from me.”

He stops, his eyes searching yours, and for a moment, you think you see regret. But then it is gone, replaced by the unwavering determination that has always defined him. “I would take the world for you,” he murmurs, his voice fierce. “And I will make you my queen, as I've promised you.”

You look back once, meeting Torrhen’s eyes across the sea of people. His face is unreadable, a mask of Northern stoicism, but the pain is there, deep and unyielding. You look away, because to hold his gaze any longer would be to shatter entirely.

As you leave, Aegon’s hand never leaving yours, you feel the chains tighten. You are his, now and forever, bound by fire and blood. And the North, once a promise of freedom and peace, is left behind, as cold and distant as a fading dream.

The shores of Dragonstone are shrouded in mist, the air filled with the scent of salt and smoke. The winds whip at the edges of your gown as you stand on the blackened sands, gazing out at the restless waves. The preparations for your wedding are underway, but you feel none of the joy such an occasion should bring. The weight of your destiny, twisted and reshaped by your brother's ambition, presses down on your shoulders like a leaden cloak.

Behind you, the great castle of Dragonstone looms, its towers sharp and jagged like dragon’s teeth. Within its ancient halls, the fires have been stoked, and the feast is being prepared. But all you feel is cold, an icy knot of anger and betrayal festering in your chest.

The sound of footsteps crunching on the sand draws your attention. You turn to see Aegon approaching, his silver hair gleaming in the faint light. He is resplendent in his Valyrian armor, the black and red of House Targaryen vivid against the stark landscape. His expression is set, determined, but you can see the flicker of something deeper in his eyes—something that looks almost like hesitation.

“You are avoiding the ceremony,” he says, his voice low, though there is a hint of frustration beneath the calm. “Our guests are waiting. Visenya and Rhaenys, our bannermen, they are all gathered for us.”

Your lip curls in a bitter smile. “For us? Or for you, brother? This is what you wanted, not I.”

Aegon’s jaw tightens, his gaze narrowing. “This is what you have always desired, to be queen. You spoke of it often as a child, remember? That you would rule by my side, united in fire and blood.”

“That was a game,” you snap, the words sharp and hot as dragonfire. “We were children, Aegon! Do you truly believe the dreams of a girl mean I must forfeit my future?”

He steps closer, the heat of him almost tangible, and for a moment, you can see the hurt flickering beneath his anger. “It was not a game to me,” he says, his voice firm. “When you spoke of ruling together, I saw it as a vow. I saw it as a promise that you would be with me, that we would shape the world together.”

You scoff, turning away, your eyes searching the endless horizon as if it could offer some escape. “A promise you forced me into. You shattered my betrothal, Aegon. You took everything I might have had—the North, my own choices—because you couldn’t bear to let me go.”

Aegon’s hand catches your arm, gently but insistently, turning you to face him. His eyes are fierce, blazing with that intensity that has always defined him. “I took what was mine,” he says, and there is a ring of possessiveness in his tone that makes your heart clench. “You were never meant for him, for anyone but me.”

“And what if I say I do not want this?” you demand, pulling your arm free. “What if I do not wish to be your queen, to be bound to you like some trophy to show your might?”

His gaze softens, and for a moment, he looks almost vulnerable. “You may hate me now, sister,” he murmurs, his voice low and strained. “But I know you. I know the fire in you, the hunger for more. It was not a game, not truly. I have seen the way you look at the world, the way you yearn for something greater. I have conquered Westeros, yes, but I did it for us, for the promise we made.”

“A promise I was too young to understand!” you retort, frustration boiling over. “You saw what you wanted and took it. You never asked what I wanted, Aegon. You never thought that I might have wished for something different.”

He shakes his head, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. “I have always known what you wanted, even when you did not. You would have been wasted in the North, trapped in Winterfell with a husband who could never truly know the depths of your fire.”

Your hands clench at your sides, anger and confusion warring within you. “And now I am trapped here, with you. Trapped in a cage of gold and dragonfire.”

Aegon’s eyes darken, and he steps closer, his presence overwhelming, the heat of him almost suffocating. “Not trapped, beloved,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “You are not trapped. You are my queen, my equal. This is what I offer you—the world, to rule by my side. Everything we dreamed of, everything we spoke of, it is ours now.”

Your breath catches, and for a moment, you are caught between the pull of his words and the bitterness in your heart. You had dreamed of this, once, when you were too young to understand the price. But the reality is a bitter draught, and the man before you, the brother who has taken so much, feels more like a stranger than ever.

“I wanted freedom,” you whisper, the words breaking from you like a confession. “I wanted a life of my own choosing, not one bound by your will.”

Aegon’s face softens, and he reaches out, his hand hovering near your cheek, hesitant, as if he fears you will pull away. “And I wanted you, more than the crown, more than any throne. I have always wanted you.”

His words hang between you, heavy and fraught, and for a moment, the world narrows to the space between your breaths. You feel the weight of his longing, the possessive need that has driven him to bind you to him, and it terrifies you, even as some small, traitorous part of you is drawn to it.

But you do not yield. You cannot. “You have me now, brother,” you say softly, a bitter edge to your voice. “But do not think it is by choice.”

He flinches, the hurt plain on his face, but he does not look away. “I will make you see, in time,” he says, his voice almost a vow. “I will make you see that this is where you belong.”

And with that, he turns away, striding back toward the castle, leaving you alone on the shore. The wind howls around you, the waves crashing against the rocks, and you stand there, feeling the world shifting around you like sand beneath your feet.

Today you will be wed, bound in the ancient rites of your people, the words of Valyria sealing your fate. And though you feel the fire of your anger burning bright, you know that you are caught, trapped in a web of fate and desire, with no clear way to break free.

The dragon has claimed you, and whether you will burn or rise remains to be seen.

The halls of Dragonstone are alive with the glow of a hundred torches. The air is heavy with the scent of incense and dragonfire, a mix of smoke and the salt of the sea beyond. 

You stand in the center of the great hall, clad in the traditional robes of Valyria. The fabric is exquisite, a deep crimson embroidered with threads of gold and black that catch the light as you move. It clings to your form like liquid fire, and the weight of it feels both regal and suffocating. Your hair, usually left to flow freely, has been intricately braided and adorned with tiny dragon-shaped clasps of silver and rubies, each one a symbol of your house, your heritage, and the heavy legacy you now bear.

The hall is filled with guests, lords and ladies from the corners of Westeros, all here to witness this union, this cementing of power. The faces of those you know—Rhaenys, with her quiet strength, and Visenya, stern and watchful—are a comfort, but only barely. They stand on either side of you, dressed in their own gowns of silver and midnight blue, their presence a stark reminder of what you are about to become. Beyond them, the lords of the realm watch with a mixture of awe and apprehension, their whispers a dull hum in the background of your thoughts.

At the far end of the hall, Aegon waits. He is a vision in black and red, his armor gleaming under the firelight, the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen emblazoned proudly on his chest. His silver-gold hair falls loosely to his shoulders, and his eyes—those eyes that have seen the world bend and break under his will—are fixed on you with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

The words of the High Valyrian rites begin, spoken by a priestess who stands between you and Aegon, her voice echoing in the vast chamber. The ancient tongue flows like music, each syllable carrying the weight of history, of old gods and lost empires. The ceremony is one few in Westeros truly understand, its meaning lost to all but those of your blood.

You are asked to recite the vows, and though your voice is steady, you can feel your heart racing, a frantic, caged thing within your chest. You speak the words, pledging your loyalty, your soul, your very being to the man before you. Each phrase is a chain, each promise a shackle that binds you ever closer to him.

Tears sting at your eyes, but you blink them away, your vision blurring for a moment. You will not weep, not here, not before all these people. But the weight of what is happening crashes over you in waves, each one more suffocating than the last. You feel Rhaenys’s gaze on you, warm and understanding, but even she cannot help you now. This is your fate, your destiny, carved by your own brother.

Aegon steps forward, his gaze never leaving yours. His face is inscrutable, the mask of the conqueror, but there is something beneath it, something raw and almost hesitant. He takes your hands in his, his grip firm but not harsh, his skin warm against your cold fingers.

The priestess continues, her voice rising and falling like the tide, calling upon the old gods of Valyria to witness this union, to bless it with the strength of the dragon, the fury of fire. You repeat the vows again, your voice faltering only once, when the tears finally spill over, silent and unbidden.

Aegon’s eyes flicker, a brief, almost imperceptible softening as he watches the tears trail down your cheeks. For a heartbeat, he hesitates, his gaze searching yours, and you see it—a flash of uncertainty, of something almost like regret. But it is gone as quickly as it appeared, his grip on your hands tightening as if to anchor you both.

The priestess holds up a ceremonial blade, its edge gleaming wickedly in the firelight. You know what comes next. Aegon takes the blade first, drawing it carefully across his palm. Blood wells up, crimson and stark against his pale skin. He holds his hand out to you, his eyes locked with yours, unyielding and yet—there is a plea there, a silent question.

You take the blade, your hand trembling slightly. The metal is cold and sharp, and when you draw it across your palm, the pain is swift, a sharp sting that blooms into a dull throb. You press your bleeding hand to his, the warmth of his blood mingling with yours, a bond sealed in the oldest way.

“Fire and blood, my love,” he murmurs, his voice low, meant only for you. 

The words are a promise, a claim, and you feel their weight settle over you like a mantle. The tears fall faster now, but you do not look away, even as your vision blurs. You hold his gaze, refusing to flinch, to break, even as your heart shatters within you.

And then it is time for the final vow, the kiss that will seal your fates. Aegon hesitates, just for a heartbeat, his eyes searching yours as if seeking permission, understanding. The hesitation is gone as quickly as it appeared, and he leans in, his lips brushing yours with a gentleness that surprises you.

The kiss is soft, almost chaste, but there is a fire beneath it, a heat that speaks of all the things left unspoken between you. It lasts only a moment, a fleeting touch, and then he pulls back, his eyes dark and unreadable.

The hall erupts in cheers, the sound crashing over you like a tidal wave. You feel the weight of the moment, the finality of it, and it is all you can do to stand, to keep the tears from becoming sobs. You are his now, bound in the ancient rites, the queen to his king, the flame to his fire.

Aegon raises your joined hands, his gaze still locked on yours. There is triumph in his eyes, but there is something else, too—something softer, more fragile, hidden beneath the conqueror’s mask.

The feast that follows is a blur of sound and color, of toasts and laughter that seem hollow in your ears. Aegon’s hand remains on yours throughout, his presence a constant, inescapable force beside you. You smile when expected, nod when spoken to, but inside, you are adrift, lost in the sea of your own thoughts, your own grief.

As the night wears on, the guests begin to fade away, the torches burning low. Aegon turns to you, his expression still unreadable, his hand warm on your arm.

“Are you well?” he asks, his voice quiet, meant only for you.

You look up at him, and for the first time since the ceremony began, you allow yourself to speak the truth. “No,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “No, I am not.”

For a moment, just a moment, you see something in his eyes—a shadow of the boy he once was, the brother you knew before all this. But then it is gone, and he nods, his expression hardening once more.

“I will make it right,” he says, and you can hear the determination in his voice, the fierce resolve that has driven him to conquer, to claim. “I will make you see.”

But you turn away, pulling your hand from his grasp, your heart heavy with the weight of all that has been lost, all that will never be. You do not look back as you leave the hall, the cheers and laughter fading behind you, your tears falling silently in the darkness.

Tonight, you are queen. But you are also alone, your heart a battlefield, your soul caught between fire and blood, love and resentment. And the man you once called brother, the boy who once made you laugh, is now the king who has taken everything.

[beevean]

Another reason the "wonderful in a vacuum" scene of Lenore choosing to look at Hector in her last seconds of her life doesn't hit as it should, is that the show didn't do what it could have to build up this moment. And I'm not just talking about how Lenore never loved Hector in the first place so her final moment of caring feels mocking.

In S3E6, she says this:

Hector: Daylight can be nice, too. Lenore: I'll take your word for it. Hector: You don't remember daylight? Lenore: Never much cared for it. I was always a night person. Hector: You might be missing something, you know. Only coming out at night. Lenore: Oh, I don't think so. Just look. I can't see how the sun would improve this view.

Now, this is not a bad moment. First of all, it's all part of Lenore's manipulations to make Hector accept to work for them ("Look at this lovely view! Surely you'll want to stay here, won't you?"), and it's a good strategy because while Hector is a human and not afraid of the sun, he's already accustomed to living among creatures of the night. Plus, her preference for the night fits her and her attempted aesthetic of "sad winter princess". And, of course, I doubt they had planned her suicide by sunlight when they wrote S3.

But in S4, the topic never comes up again, when it could have quite nicely. Since Lenore spends the whole season feeling sorry for herself, repeating the information "Carmilla's plan makes me feel useless", for a change she could have snuck in something like this:

"You know, it's funny. I haven't seen the sun in two hundred years. I almost forgot how it looks like... How it would feel for the sunlight to hit my skin without it blistering. The moon has its beauty, of course, but..."

One, this could be a genuine bonding moment between Lenore and Hector. As I pointed out, she only strikes casual conversations with him in S3 for the sake of manipulating him: once she's "solved his problem", she mostly vents about her personal issues, and the only natural, mutually respectful conversation they have is the one about strength and power just before her suicide, which is far too late. Maybe they could talk about what they miss, what they'd like to see... with the added irony that Hector is trapped in that castle so he can't do anything he would like to do, and it's all Lenore's fault to boot. Maybe Hector's lack of concrete answer would not only hint at hidden resentment, but it could foreshadow how he actually didn't think far ahead because he's secretly waiting for Isaac to come and kill him, or that his only plan for the future is to destroy the Council, which he's keeping under wraps; but it would also be nice if he had a dream, like going to see the ocean again. hector in s4 sorely lacks a personality that is not his depressing love for lenore and i would love to fix it

Two, it could be symbolic of Lenore regretting her vampire nature, or perhaps even foreshadowing her flirting with the idea of killing herself if Carmilla's plan comes to fruition, since another criticism is that Lenore decides to kill herself with the same consideration one chooses which dress to wear for the day. Lenore, as her basic concept, wants to be the bridge between humankind and vampirekind, and there are hints of this, such as her makeup that make her look like a living human being (contrast her with Carmilla, who looks like a corpse), her declaration that she enjoys eating food equating it to living a good life, and her insistence to use diplomacy in a culture that thrives on war and conquest, which gives her the reputation of being soft and weak. So, it would make sense for her to, at one point, drop her mask and admit that she misses the human pleasure of the sunlight, maybe even expressing subtle envy that Hector can experience it; the Lenore in S3 was a bundle of lies carefully woven to lower Hector's guard, but now she is fully sincere and open, showing her heart to the one person who would listen to her. It would be cute and sad at the same time if she asked him to describe him what the sun feels like, and Hector gave a wishy-washy answer, because he has never cared about it - or rather, his own humanity, paralleling Lenore in yet another aspect.

Of course, during the same time Hector is taking advantage of Lenore's inability to stand in the daylight to study on his own and plot behind her back, so the scene would be even more tragic. Hector is already benefiting from his own humanity to cause Lenore's downfall.

And three, her final choice would have more weight. Not only, with the added context, Lenore's grief would be more easy to interpret as "no matter how hard I try, I'm a cursed creature doomed to live in misery and spread misery, I'm tired of living in the night" and not "weh i refuse to live in a cage :< sorry hector idc about you i refuse to live if i don't have a shred of power", but also, well. Lenore wanted to see the sun. She has found the courage to see the sun, knowing that it will nor reconnect her with her lost humanity, but it will only lead to her death. And then... at the last moment... she renounces it. Sure, the sun is pretty, much like the moon... but neither of them, in the end, can compare to Hector, who is one of a kind, who, unlike the sun, cared about her. Now it works, after more buildup.

(also it would be much nicer if Lenore melted like Dracula, instead of turning into pretty dust. Show her as the monster she never accepted herself to be.)

Now, this only fix only a fraction of the infinite and immense issues I have with Lenector in S4. It needs to be reworked from the foundations, and I focused too much on Lenore when the source of my anger is everything surrounding Hector and the sanification of Lenore's actions. But look at how easy it is to build a much more organic chemistry, when you don't waste precious screentime on dick jokes and rape apologism! The building blocks are all here! I'm just so profoundly sad when I see the botched attempt of a good story and it wouldn't have taken much effort to improve it, just respect for your own writing.

[constantkwrites]

City of Stars Ch.2 (Officer K x Reader)

gif credit

Words: 1036 Masterpost | Chapter 3

comment if you want to be tagged in future chapters

The Inspector and K rush through the precinct. They had been called into the office for a briefing after their investigation.

K avoids everyone’s gazes. A beaten animal with its tail between its legs.

But… She does the same. K scowls. 

He notices the strain in her posture, the weariness etched into her features. Pinched lips and downcast eyes. K finds it curious.

An officer walking in their opposite direction cuts through them.

“Fuck off, half-breed! ” He spits as he slams his shoulder into the Inspector’s. She stumbles. K is quick to steady her with a firm hand. The offending officer laughs as he wanders down the hall, disappearing out of sight.

Half-breed.

K hasn’t heard that one before. He looks questioningly at her.

She exhales sharply and straightens. In that fleeting moment, their eyes meet, and K sees something flicker in hers—bitterness. All too familiar.

Her eye twitches. “Come on, we’re late,” she says with a clipped tone. K doesn’t push any further.

They reach Lieutenant Joshi’s office and enter.

The Lieutenant isn’t there yet, but two other people are already waiting inside. Nandez looms quietly in the back. A bigot with a mouth certain whatever comes out of it is funny. Besides him is a man K recognizes but doesn’t know the name of. He’s a sergeant, a rugged man with dark, swept back hair and a scar on his nose bridge.

Nandez eyes the Inspector up and down. 

“Surprised this half-breed hasn’t gotten her skinjob killed yet,” he turns to the sergeant, “How long you wanna bet this one’s gonna last, Reed?”

Sergeant Reed laughs. “Do you think the skinner knows?”

K watches the interaction unfold. The vein in the Inspector’s forehead pops. There’s bad blood, but K is an obedient creature. Bred to obey and never ask.

Nandez grins arrogantly at K. “This woman killed her last partner, and then some.”

“Have some fucking respect, Nandez. It was an accident. I was cleared,” She bears her teeth. K instinctively grabs the back of her shirt.

“Accident or not, it doesn't change the fact that you're a liability. I’m surprised your division didn’t take away your badge,” Reed pipes up. K makes a mental note to avoid him. "And as for your little skinner here," Reed adds, nodding towards K with a smirk, "I give it even less time than your last partner."

“That’s enough,” she snaps and her body tenses, ready to pounce. K's grip tightens on the back of her shirt. He can feel the heat of her anger radiating through her, palpable and electric.

The door opens and Lieutenant Joshi arrives just in time. Nandez and Reed fall silent at her sight. The Inspector shakes with anger. Once he's certain she won’t lunge at anyone, K releases his grip on her.

“Inspector, Nandez, Reed,” Joshi barks, “I need results and I need them now.”

K stands idly in his partner’s shadow. Silently, he waits for his leash to be tugged in a new direction. The briefing is otherwise uneventful. The rate at which Reed and Nandez make jabs at his partner is ridiculous.

He thinks of her. He thinks of her gentleness that he cannot understand. It all makes him feel an unknown ache in the ragged-edged hole in his chest. 

It's all so unfamiliar, so strange.

K forces himself to bury that feeling deep down, refusing to dwell on what it might mean. He knows what he is.

He takes his eyes off of her. The air is stiff and solid in his synthetic lungs.

"Everyone, dismissed. K, stay behind."

K straightens at his madam’s words. He looks at anything except his partner as everyone leaves. He can breathe again once his partner is out the door, away, away, away from him.

Joshi pours herself a drink. K stays unmoving, watching the weariness in his madam’s movements. She stares out of her office window. The sky mourns rain, washing away everything it touches.

“What do you make of your partner?” Joshi asks calmly.

K blinks, once, twice. He sees flashes of his partner’s anger. Her smile. He almost grimaces. The heat rising in his throat makes it hard to speak, so he does so through clenched teeth.

“She’s… sentimental,” he answers.

Joshi exhales and leans back in her worn chair. “There's no room for sentimentality in our line of work.”

K knows it already.

Silence.

“You don’t trust her,” K says. He’s not stupid.

“I advise you to do the same.”

"What are you implying, Madam?"

"Your partner is... unpredictable. She has a checkered history," she says. “And yet we can’t let her go. She has a way of getting through to skinjobs, as much as it disgusts me.”

Silence. Joshi’s face is twisted in scorn. K understands. He is an extension of his madam, an accessory to be used. Hardcoded with the purpose to serve.

Nothing more.

He bitterly wishes his partner would treat him the same way. It would be easier for both of them. It would be safe. Familiar.

Joshi chews on the inside of her cheek. The liquid in her glass is drained and the empty glass clinks against the fake hardwood of her desk. 

"K, have you ever seen a rabid animal before?"

K resists the urge to frown. “No, Madam.”

“But you know what to do with rabid animals.”

K looks at her with empty eyes. “Yes, Madam.”

Joshi drags her finger on the edge of the empty glass, chewing on her next words. K quietly digs his nails into the palms of his hands.

“It’s for the best of this department,” Joshi says. “If—when the time comes, you will pull the trigger.”

K is impassive, still. Joshi’s piercing gaze weighs him, yet he does not give in.

He swallows hard. For a moment, K cannot breathe.

"Yes, Madam," he says softly. He does not look at her.

Joshi lets out a satisfied sigh. “Good boy. Now get out there and get me some results.”

K takes his leave. Joshi does not notice the hurriedness in K’s steps as he quits her office.

K has never retired anything with a soul before. Joshi’s word is law.

He will do as he’s told.

[fluentmoviequoter]

I'm imagining Vic Mitch and Syd decorating a mini plastic Christmas tree together and their temporary apartment and imagining what ornaments each choose and idk if this is enough to be a prompt but yeah

I wrote a little blurb with the ornament pictures you sent here! Hope this is okay. :)

🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄

Victor Vale, Mitch Turner, and Sydney Clarke have very little in common. Including what ornaments belong on the 6 foot tall mini plastic tree wedged into the corner of their shared apartment. Victor sighs as they walk down the Christmas aisles of a nearby store, he and Mitch trailing behind Sydney as she looks at everything with an occasional “ooh” or “ahh.” She carries an empty basket, which she knows she can fill up and Victor will buy her anything in it, even if he does complain while he does so. Victor grumbles under his breath but Mitch seems perfectly content to sip at his chocolate milk and watch Sydney act like a kid again.

“I’m thinking we go classic red and gold. Maybe a little hint of London?” Sydney suggests as she stops at the beginning of the ornament aisle. “Like those,” she adds, pointing to a decorated tree.

“No,” Victor replies. “All black is the classiest option.”

“Says the guy in an all black outfit,” Sydney mutters under her breath.

Mitch hides his smile behind his cup before saying, “I like the fun ornaments. Does it really have to have a matching theme?”

“Yes!” Victor and Sydney answer together.

Shaking his head, Mitch steps around Sydney to go to the section with singular ornaments while they stay by the boxed sets.

“This one is perfect! Tell me it isn’t perfect, Vic,” Sydney announces, holding up a box of read and gold ornaments, with a double decker bus and Teddy bear.

“It isn’t perfect.”

“You didn’t even look.”

Victor spares a quick glance out of the corner of his eye. “They’re not perfect. These, however,” he pauses as he pulls a box of textured black ornaments off the shelf to present to Sydney.

“Absolutely not. I can’t even list all of the reasons why black is not an appropriate color for a Christmas tree.”

While Sydney and Victor hold their respective boxes and bicker, Mitch returns and drops a few ornaments into the small basket discarded by Sydney. Sydney stops talking as she looks down at the new additions. She kneels and pinches a pickle ornament between her forefinger and thumb, holding it out like it’s a dead animal rather than a Christmas ornament.

“What is this, Mitch?” she asks, reproach and disgust lacing her voice.

“It’s a Christmas pickle,” Mitch answers cheerily. “There’s also a brontosaurus with a Santa hat carrying a Christmas tree on its back and a lobster. A llama,” he adds.

“What makes you think these are going anywhere near our tree?” Victor asks. “In our apartment for that matter.”

“It’s Christmas. They’re festive.”

Sydney sighs and returns the pickle to the basket as Victor pinches the bridge of his nose.

“There’s also one that has a dog that looks just like Dol peeking out of a gift box.”

Sydney gasps and bounces up and down as she asks Mitch to show her. When their backs are turned, Victor bends down to place the black ornaments in the basket and sees Sydney’s choice already in it. A smile threatens to appear on his face as he lifts the nearly full basket.

“We have to get it, Vic!” Sydney declares, showing him the ornament.

“It does look like Dol,” he says quietly. “Put it in.”

“We’re getting all of them?” Sydney asks as she sets the dog ornament down gently.

“It’s everybody’s tree, only fair that everybody gets ornaments they like,” Victor answers, shrugging with faux disinterest.

“Ghost of Christmas future get to you? No, wait, Tiny Tim?” Mitch teases.

“Something like that,” Victor whispers as he follows Sydney further down the aisle.

“This is going to be the best tree for the best Christmas!” Sydney cheers. “Thanks, Vic!”

🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄

Later that night, after the tree is evenly decorated with red, gold, black and what Victor can only label as “weird and obscure,” they sit on the couch and look at the finished product.

“It looks good put together,” Sydney says quietly.

Victor nods silently as Mitch agrees.

“Merry Christmas, guys,” Sydney adds.

“Merry Christmas,” Mitch and Victor say together.

Sydney falls asleep on the couch and when she wakes up she swears one of her London ornaments has been switched with a pickle, now front and center. She laughs as she realizes she was right, it is the perfect tree for the perfect Christmas.

[birthday-of-music]

hello as mentioned previously here is. lower mv analysis. utc because this might get long

OKAY!! so the first thing we see when we watch the mv is all the characters being represented by phases of the moon. kanade as the first quarter, mafuyu as the third quarter, ena as waxing gibbous, mizuki as waning crescent and meiko as new moon.

now, this may not matter, but the very first thing i (or anyone might have) noticed is that kanade and mafuyu fit together, as do ena and mizuki. they fit together. which is really sweet, whether you see it as platonic or romantic.

so i considered a few things when thinking about the moons and what they may represent. the two i settled on are either: how much the others know about their problems, or: how much hope they have for the future. if you think about their characters, this does make a bit of sense.

meikos moon is completely dark, though, which doesnt fit into either of these categories but represents her unwillingness to get involved in the story. now.

if we look at this, we can see the four cards in the background. its hard to see, but we can identify the two in the light as ena and kanade. the two in the dark are mizuki and mafuyu.

whats interesting, though, is the fact that mizuki is more in the dark than mafuyu. it represents mafuyus growth throughout the story and the hope she has now that kanade can save her. mizuki wants to be saved, too, but they dont believe that they can be.

next scene: we get to see the cards up close. mizuki has their eyes closed, and so does kanade. ena and mafuyu have their eyes open. now, i thought for quite a while about why mafuyus eyes were open, and what i settled on was that she understands mizuki the most out of everyone. she knows what its like to put on a front and pretend nothings wrong. ena looks to be searching, likely for mizuki, whereas mafuyu doesnt look quite like she is as much as ena does (this could just be up to her not showing any emotion though.)

now we get to see the entire artworks. kanade and ena are both reaching out for mafuyu and mizuki respectively. they have a sad, sort of longing look in their eyes. mafuyu and mizuki have blank expressions and their eyes averted. before the chorus, mafuyu and mizuki sing together while ena and kanade do the same.

however, at the line “If you’re not sure, then what are you thinking?” ena sings by herself and then closes her eyes. shes trying to feel what mizuki feels.

now when we get to the first chorus, the video shows mafuyu and mizuki as they sing the line “If we are to be separated, if we are to lose our way.” then the next line “I’ll make sure we’ll be connected this time, no matter how many times it takes” has the video showing ena and then mizuki, nearly as if mizuki is asking what happens if we are separated and ena is refusing to let them think such a thing, cutting off all their worries.

with the line “If you will stay here with me, if I could just keep you from leaving” has the video on ena and kanade again, both with their arms outstretched. they want the others to stay. the next line is about how you could still be saved, and that one shows kanade reaching out and then mafuyu looking away.

SECOND VERSE! kanade sings, closing her eyes like ena did previously. then it shows ena, who also has her eyes closed. mafuyus eyes are still closed, but when mizuki sings, we see their eyes closed, as if they dont want ena to find them. but ena is looking anyway.

similarly to the first chorus, the second goes like this:

mafuyu and mizuki, looking away: “If we grow tired, if there’s nothing more for us here,”

kanade to mafuyu, reaching out: “I’ll make sure we escape this time, no matter how many times it takes”

shes denying the “what ifs” again.

okay. now in the bridge, we see these two images:

the first one is ena and mizuki, ena reaching out and mizuki pushing her away. the second is kanade reaching out to mafuyu and mafuyu just starting to reach back. oughh.

then. ena closes her eyes, kanade closes her eyes. mafuyu opens her eyes, mizuki opens their eyes.

then we see quickly, these four images:

mafuyu, kanade, ena, mizuki. my japanese isnt good enough for these, but the four lines in the middle are something like:

mafuyu: thank you for finding me

kanade: thank you as well

ena: it would be nice if _____

mizuki: if i told her, would everything change?

there are some other quotes along the outside, like “its the truth — you want to disappear more than anyone else.” “because i have no talent…?” “im not going to give up” “next month… next year…” “if the four of us stay together like this…” “i wonder if i can be saved”

in the last line, kanade and ena have their eyes open, and mafuyu and mizuki have theirs closed. at the end, mizuki opens their eyes and then they are alone. thats what theyre most afraid of. if ena knows, if the others know, theyll end up alone.

[empty-dream]

Me:

Holy shit I got GOOSEBUMPS. GOOSEBUMPS I TELL YOU.

First of all, MISTER ZHOU HAOSONG (aka HIROMATSU SHU) AND TEAM, THANK YOU VERY MUCH FOR YOUR HARD WORK ON THIS MV.

Second of all, THE SONG. MY HAIR IS STANDING. THANK GOD FOR THE FULL VERSION. CHILLS. HANA HOPE AND DONGURI AMENO AND HAYATO TANAKA, THANK YOU

I fucking love the lighting. The detail. Oh my GODDD. I fell in love with the glossy effect, in particular. And I don't really understand the technical term, but I feel like the storyboard (and its execution) is incredible. There is no frame wasted and everything serves its purpose to tell a solid story in under 4 minutes.

It is really apparent that the first part is about the legends in their peak days and how it brings them not only everlasting glory known to this day but also sorrow, regrets, failures and suffering.

These particular shots really struck my heart ngl. Arjuna with conflicting feelings (an understatement) after defeating Karna, Jeanne executed in the pyre even when she still believed in God and the good, and Fran being rejected by her creator that she only had herself to hug her.

Then the second half is how even as they hold those pain in their hearts, they move on in a second chance, answering the calls of masters from different eras for a quest for humanity. As the song tells, they still choose to walk forward and trust that there is still something beyond their own life-tale- that's worth fighting for.

I love hands as the bridge of connection between human beings. Besides the aforementioned shots above (and the others that also show the same amount of tragic ends), there is also when the heroic spirits run towards and grasp the hand offered to them. This imagery is something so sincere that it is both so divine yet so human.

And it is tied with how Ritsuka becomes Mash's master, as they offer their hand and she takes it.

Just like how these legends had good and bad in their lives, it is also how it is with mankind. In that aspect, people haven't changed that much, from before and far in the future. Mankind are highly flawed with all the conflicts they inflict yet the good of humanity still exists enough that they are still worthy to live and fight for. And isnt that the general theme of FGO

I noticed that at least for the main representations of the 7+extra classes, none of them is 100% divine being or nonhuman. (Even Fran is made as an artificial human) So the human drama applies very much to their life, whether they gain glory and suffering from it or simply a living record of it.

I noticed because I actually wanted Brynhild to be the Lancer representative lol.

As OG Jeanne fan, HELL YEA ANIMATED JEANNE AGAIN!!

I love the scenes with Fran and King Hassan in their respective original life. So loaded in sadness (Fran) and mystery (King Hassan)

Merlin pulling THAT face when he watches mankind screwing itself from Avalon hits me.

I have never saw the OG Artoria beaming that bright. It's so heartwarming.

Everyone flying towards the light that calls them is MAGNIFICENT. Mash getting up and starts walking in the hallway of Chaldea is also CHILLING. OSCAR WORTHY SCENE NGL.

Especially that Iskandar scene. He flaps his cape while the stairs and the statues rebuild themselves to give way to the king. BADASS.

These two scenes and their transition, just, SO DAMN HEAVY. And the explosions reverted back, symbolizing that there is a possibility that humanity -past and present- can fight to avoid the bad future where everything including the human race is eradicated.

Really deserves that "Beyond the Tale" title. It's even beyond the intended use as a promotional video for a video game. It's pretty much a form of celebration of humanity for me. Probably this will become my new favorite anniversary theme.

[bakuliwrites]

Lunar Halo, Chapter 5- Secrets Uncovered

Rating: 18+ (for future chapters), Minors DNI!!!!!

Chapter Links: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, Ending 1, Ending 2, Ending 3

Fandom: Dark Souls

Relationships: Dark Sun Gwyndolin/OC, Dark Sun Gwyndolin/Chosen Undead

Tags for Whole Work: Major Character Death, Angst, Fluff, Smut, Romance, Grief/Mourning, Body Horror, Body Worship, Oral S*x, Penetrative S*x, Vaginal Fingering, Friends to Lovers, Bodyguard Romance, Blades of the Darkmoon, Marriage (and not in the Dark Souls 3 definition of it...), Marriage Proposal, Gwyndolin uses he/him pronouns, Falling in Love

Chapter Summary: Gwyndolin promotes his most trusted Blade to the position of his personal guard, which opens the doors for them to grow closer and for long-held secrets to be uncovered at last. Read here or on my AO3

After the debacle with the intruder, Gwyndolin decides to promote his Blade, giving her the illustrious position of acting as his personal guard. She has proven her skill, her fealty. She is worthy of remaining by his side, guarding the Dark Sun at all times. And he would be lying to himself if he did not admit that he simply wants to keep her close. He enjoys her company and she seems to enjoy his. Besides, it gives her a much needed break from her endless wandering. She seems relieved and grateful for this promotion, thanking Gwyndolin over and over again.

Following her promotion, Gwyndolin passes many hours in the Tomb of his Father conversing with his Blade. She patrols when necessary, thoroughly searching the grounds for any ne’er-do-wells that might be lurking in the shadows. When she has completed her sweep, she takes her place at Gwyndolin’s side and they fritter away time with idle chit-chat, which soon turns to deep conversation and clandestine admissions. Even gods have secrets. Especially gods have secrets. Another bridge between the mortal and the immortal. 

Gwyndolin’s confessions are typically related to his Father’s treatment of him. To his desire to do right by Him, while bearing bitterness for the Great Lord. A resentment Gwyndolin feels wholly embarrassed of. 

“I love my siblings deeply and have always been very close to them,” he confesses, gently toying with one of the stems in a bouquet resting solemnly atop his Father’s Tomb. It looks so minuscule compared to the grand stone slab beneath it. His Blade passes him a tender smile, one that crinkles the corners of her eyes and seems to fill her irises with rivulets of light. Her affection, though respectfully distant, fills Gwyndolin’s heart with a bursting exuberance. Inevitably, he finds himself shyly turning away, fearing that his affection for her might somehow sour things between them.

“I respect my Father greatly,” he goes on, his voice hushing to a near whisper, “But our relationship was not without its complications.” 

 In time, Gwyndolin speaks of his own fragility and perceived “hideous” appearance, part of the reason he shrouds himself in illusion, though not entirely. He describes his powerlessness compared to the rest of his family. His deep connection to the moon, though celebrated due to Gwyndolin’s affinity for sorceries, was so inherently different from his Father and his siblings that it has always made him feel like an outsider. 

“Thou art anything but hideous and powerless,” his Blade reassures one evening as they stroll through the gardens together. Gwyndolin wonders if she is saying this because she feels she has to as his guard or if she truly means it. His Blade stoops to pick up a pale flower that has detached from one of the branches of a nearby tree. Her index finger gently caresses its delicate petals, smoothing out one that has started to wither in its severance. With a small smile, she places the flower in Gwyndolin’s crown. 

“Perhaps you were not really being perceived,” she goes on, scanning Gwyndolin’s mouth, the only part of his face she can see, “Perhaps your Father only saw what he wanted to see. Do you perceive yourself that way? As hideous and powerless?”

And with this, she falls silent, walking alongside her Lord, bathed in the silver light of the moon. Gwyndolin ponders this as he drifts off that night. He has never perceived himself any other way. He has always lived in the shadows of his siblings, of his Father. He has always viewed himself the way that he believes others view him. Yet, his Blade does not seem to share this view. Instead, when she looks at him, it’s as if she’s looking at the radiant light of a moon Gwyndolin is only now starting to recognize as beautiful.

Her reassurances, though often esoteric in nature, give Gwyndolin strength. He starts to wonder if, perhaps, he is living too much of his life in the shadows. He has consigned himself to secrecy, to hiding behind a simulacrum of the world that the Great Lord Gwyn ruled. His Father is no longer around, so why do this to himself? It is utterly exhausting at times. His Blade is a breath of fresh air. She does not look at him with disappointment or revulsion. It isn’t necessary for Gwyndolin to hide himself from her or shroud himself with illusion in her company. Life feels better this way and, slowly, over time, he starts to wonder if all this secrecy is even worth it. It is this feeling that prompts him to confess something that changes their relationship for good.

“There are other reasons why I hide behind illusion,” Gwyndolin begins one evening, anxiety constricting his airways. He is taking a risk sharing this information. Will his Blade become hostile with this knowledge? Will it somehow prompt her to corrupt or hollow or wither? Will she reject him? Will she stay? These thoughts swirl ceaselessly around Gwyndolin’s mind as he straightens in his seat, trying to look poised before his Blade. She merely stares expectantly at her Lord from where she stands across from him. The Tomb of his Father is silent, save the sharp intake of breath the Dark Sun takes before he reveals himself in his entirety.

“It is I who calls out to the Undead, to encourage the kindling of the Flame,” he admits, feeling a weight lift from his chest, “The image of my sister, Gwynevere, is merely an illusion, meant to push the Undead in the right direction. I do not exactly give off an air of authority or grace. It is- easier for the Undead to follow Gwynevere, to follow my sister, than it is to follow me. That is why I shroud myself in fog, why I am so reclusive. Why the sun always shines upon Anor Londo for those who seek out hope. For it is I that direct kindling to the Flame.” 

His Blade remains reticent, silent for a long while. He cannot read her expression, her eyes cold in the fading light of the day and face gravely set. Maybe this was a mistake, Gwyndolin thinks.  

“I know this,” she finally speaks, her gaze hard as diamond as she looks to him, “I didn’t get so far as to stand before the Princess of Sunlight when it was my time to attempt to link the Flame. But rumors cycle through the failed Undead. Through those who could not complete their task. We humans are not as ignorant as the gods may imagine. The cycle of this world, though cabalistic in its interpretation, is something we discuss amongst ourselves. We are just as much a part of this process as you are, My Lord. Though some may choose to believe false prophecy, there are many of us who simply acknowledge its erroneous nature and attempt to follow through with it anyway. For one reason or another.”

Gwyndolin is speechless, feeling shamefully arrogant and monumentally stupid. 

“I apologize for assuming so little of you,” he returns, head hung in shame. He is embarrassed to have withheld this information from her for so long, mortified that he might have implied that his Blade is ignorant in some way, and humiliated even further that his illusions are perhaps not as effective as he believed them to be.

Seeing his upset, his Blade strides to his side, reaches her hands out to lift him from his place, and guides him towards the window.

“I did not mean to sound hostile,” she apologizes, gently squeezing Gwyndolin’s hand, “I merely meant to explain that some of us are aware. We know there are few gods left to follow. And still, we seek the linking of the Flame. We do not care who it is that calls to us. We merely answer to the fear of fading. Fear of hollowing. Fear of what is to come, should the Age of Fire end.” 

“I, too, fear the fading of the Fire,” Gwyndolin discloses, glancing down at one of the Silver Knights guarding the courtyard. Light glints off of their polished armor, blinding in its intensity. When Gwyndolin looks back to his Blade, she is frowning. 

“I wanted desperately to heed your call,” she admits, letting go and allowing his hands to drop to his sides, “And at the time, I did not know it was you who was calling to me.”  

She gazes wistfully off into the distance, out at the horizon, the sinking sun an inflamed kiln of its own, baking the sky in hues of orange and red.

“I was meant to kindle the flame,” she proceeds, her look shifting to one downcast and sorrowful, “It would have been the greatest honor of my life. I am deeply terrified of what should happen should the Fire fade. It is an unknown that strikes fear in my heart. Despite my conviction, I failed my mission. I was too weak.” 

“I failed to gather what I needed to gather, was grievously injured along the way, and crawled pathetically back to a settlement where I could wallow in self-pity for an eternity,” she goes on, remorse dripping from every word she utters, “My shame was great and I thought myself deserving of Hollowing. And then the thought terrified me. The idea that I might lose who I am, that I might become a shadow of who I once was, shook me to my core. I was a wretch trapped in the dregs of a fading time. The world around me was dissolving and I could feel myself fading with it.” 

Gwyndolin feels rife with compunction. Prophecy called to her, injured her in a way that broke her spirit. His Blade glances briefly up at him, the pain of endless, meaningless cycles in her shimmering eyes. 

“I wandered in search of humanity,” she continues, whispered agony coursing through her words, “Wandered in search of purpose. I am a coward in fear of withering. A failure deserving of such fate. I so desperately wanted to be the Chosen Undead. The one to carry on the age of fire, but I could not. I often wonder-”

She pauses, turning now to face her Lord, breath catching in her throat. Shamed, she casts her gaze to the ground beneath, tears falling like droplets of starlight to the earth. 

“I wonder what it is that the Dark Sun should see in me to find me worthy of standing by his side,” she murmurs, “I have found my purpose here. I am grateful for this. It has staved off my Hollowing and I feel renewed. Yet, I feel as if I do not deserve it.” 

To feel unfit and undeserving is deeply, painfully familiar to Gwyndolin. He feels it in his very bones, fatty marrow saturated with a powerful sense of not belonging. Of duplicitousness. Like he is a sham. His entire rule is bolstered by illusion, filigree meant to distract from the fact that he is a phony. A weakling. Every day, Gwyndolin devotes himself to this play, this theatrical production. When in reality, he is the only god left in Anor Londo and he, too, has no earthly idea what will happen if the Fire fades. He is left in as much darkness as humanity is.

Gwyndolin does the only thing he can do at this moment: he cups his Blade’s face in his hands, dries her tears with his thumbs, and smiles softly. 

“Thou art worthy of standing by my side,” he ensures, his tone soft and suffused with affection, “Thou hast proven this time and time again.” 

She sighs, allowing her shoulders to drop and her eyelids to flutter shut. She leans her head to the side, gently pressing a kiss into Gwyndolin’s palm.

“My Dark Sun,” she whispers, reaching up to grasp his hands, though notably not removing them from her face, “Thou art too kind to this walking corpse. But I shall take thy word for it, I suppose.” 

In silence, Gwyndolin draws her close, wrapping his arms around his Blade in a tender embrace. She clutches his robes, holding on desperately as she sheds tears that shudder through her body. As Gwyndolin gazes out at the rising moon casting swathes of blue light across the land, he feels a sudden sense of dread. The cycle of the world, of reality, repeats over and over again. It is a cycle falling to ruin and Gwyndolin wonders if his illusion is doing more harm than good. 

A/N: It’s funny, usually when I play Dark Souls, I opt to let the fire fade, but I thought for this story, it would fit that someone so devoted to Gwyndolin would want desperately to link the flame. Even if she wasn’t successful, and even if she didn’t know it was Gwyndolin that prompts the Undead to fulfill this duty, her conviction to link the flame would be strong. Mainly in fear of what is to come, or what may not come, after the fire fades. I also thought it would be appropriate for Gwyndolin to look at the state of the world through her lens and begin to question if what he’s doing is really helping or harming. Not that he will ever necessarily get an answer to that question. Dark Souls is esoteric and it seems that not even the most powerful beings in it know the truth.

[sofibeth]

Frontiers wrap up

Finished the game last night and had time to simmer it for a bit

will still say its first impression so here goes

- Have to debate whether I like the 3rd or 2nd super sonic boss more, they’re both cool set pieces eitherway. I would said I liked how the 3rd ended more.

- 3rd song is the best tho W.

- I’ve been seeing some opinions of how they address Tails’ “inconsistent” behavior its honestly a double edge sword. I don’t like Forces’ direction but I do respect them trying to stick and just grow from it. Its kinda adds to the whole themeing of the game where the main core 3 are reflecting on themselves and what they want to do moving forward. I feel this aspect would be stronger if it this stick so I’m hoping for it.

- I think it also helps when Sonic is moviating Tails they used more a old and modern example (SA1 and Lost World) for his accomplistments so its using the more mixed stuff in a good way.

- Funny since Flynn was known for fixing the pre-reboot Archie direction and here Frontiers its bout refocusing characters to their more well liked portrayals.

- Actually curious since there been IDW mentions in this game meaning their trying to bridge canon between comics and games how its gonna be incorporate here on out.

- You can really tell their were running out of assets by last 2 islands when 4 th island basicially cutscene island. I will say I like the platforming challenge to reach the last towet as well as the buildup to Sonic’s corruption and how he keeps going despite it all. 

- The plot is simple but I do like how it’s show to us, looking back it cool seeing the visions Sonic gets after a titan are the Ancients piloting it u know?

- Frontiers has def been up there for Sonic portrayals for me. Bring back an aspect IDW focus on the least and how he inspires and encourages people around them. Mostly showcase of how Sage is slowly warming up to Sonic and understanding his way of thinking.

- Funny how this consider Eggman’s more interesting portrayals and its mostly through the egg memos. I think Sage brings a dynamic to him we never seen before and lowkey glad it seen they’re keeping Sage for the future. It would be a waste to use it for one game.

- Like I really like the shot at the end of Sonic being around with the friends he been trying to save the whole game and then pans to Eggman being allow and somewhat mourning for the her daughter is sort of accidently created its good stuff.

- But getting ahead of myself I do like how the 5th island been more on level of challenging the player every they know it just collect all the emeralds, its smaller to thank god consider Chaos’ size.

- The final boss.....I liked it bbbuuutt I can understand why some won’t (have some friends or fall on both the pro and con of it) the first half is a cool setup but I feel wasn’t scaled to the appropirate difficultly level as I cheesed it pretty easily. I was also playing Hard Mode so I got the “secret” and I ironicially I think its what saved it for me cause once you figured out the play style its a matter of timing and focus. I felt like I really earned that victory and final cutscene. That said if they wanted this in the end they should have introduced this mechanic sonner and more frequent as its only in 3 minigames. (the minigames were cute btw)

- I love the credit songs but mann why is Vandalize only play in the lower difficulties? The song too much of a banger to cut okay.

- But yea overal I enjoyed my experience with Frontiers, there alot of flaws I can poiint when playing (night challenges, wanting a mini map,some jank, they really need to upgrade the character models now) but overall this game just feels like a love letter to Sonic fans! Your gonna one thing to enjoy about this game and I hope SEGA learns the right lesson going forward.

I feel excited for Sonic games again!

[myrulia]

About the Kokushibou x Muzan little sister ask can I get prompt 8 please 😅 sorry for the inconvenience.

.｡.:*✧Prompt 8: "It feels right, promise I don't mind."

.｡.:*✧Warnings: Slight sexual tension

╰╴⇢｡.:*✧A/N: If an appearance/personality is made evident, then it is because you are related to Muzan.

`` [Y/N], my beloved sister, have you considered ever finding a suitable partner such as I did? ``

Your elder brother, Lord Kibutsuji Muzan, spoke as you both were seated in one of the many rooms of the Infinity Castle that was well away from everyone else since your discussion held private matters. 

`` Brother, you made your past wives go insane, and the one you have now is a fake. So therefore, it does not count. ``

Muzan let out a huff of annoyance at the same time you did, the habit being something you both inherited unfortunately which led to the Upper Moon Two to tease you about, which led to him becoming disciplined right after.

`` That is not the point. [Y/N], I do not want you to be alone- ``

`` But I'm not alone, I have you and the other Upper Moons..- ``

`` Ah yes, the Upper Moons you say? ``

There was a glint of mischievousness in Muzan's eyes that you became all too accustomed with, knowing he was coming up with a great plan that you know utterly nothing about. Truth be told, finding a partner would not seem like the worst thing, but your stubbornness has stopped you from giving into your older brother's wishes.

`` Since you brought up the Upper Moons, I'll start from there. ``

You quirked a brow up in response to his choice of words, crossing your arms habitually and holding the same accursed scowl Muzan would also make during his meetings.

`` Why don't you get to know them, `` he started, referring to the higher ranks. `` The Upper Three ranks would make suitable partners and would have no trouble protecting you when I am absent. ``

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose trying to see a somewhat decent future with any of them. Sure, the idea had its pros, but far too many cons, especially with Douma. He was tall and handsome, sure, but had little to no emotions whatsoever and was too much of a masochist for you to handle.

Then there is Akaza. He was respectful to women and you actually found that trait attractive, but he was too focused on becoming strong and probably would not even give you the attention you would need.

Lastly, Kokushibou. An even taller demon who was quiet, well reserved, and surprisingly good looking despite having three sets of eyes. For once, you did not know the male's motives due to his nature, which allured you to him further. You have tried to strike up a conversation but he was quick to end it and would disappear somewhere else in the Castle.

`` Muzan, I would never consider Douma suitable, Akaza is a 50/50 chance, but Kokushibou- well..- ``

`` Well? ``

You wanted to voice out your opinion of the Upper Moon One to your brother, but knowing him, he would rat you out instantly just so that your relationship with him would get a move on so he can be satisfied.

`` Actually, nevermind, I'll take some time to think about it brother. ``

You got up from your chair and exited from the large room, jumping from the balcony and onto another platform. You repeated this process until you were well away from Muzan's quarters.

You were not even set on a destination, you just wanted to clear your head of his desire to find you a future husband. The idea was not a bad one, in fact it was a smart move in the first place, but it felt forced and not genuine to have to pick based off your brother telling you to.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you did not notice the large figure just in front of you, and before you knew it, you bumped right into the figure's back, causing it to fall over with you on top. 

`` Who- ``

`` I apologize! `` You blurted out before the voice could finish. `` I was not looking where I was going and ended up tumbling onto you so I'm sorry. ``

You quickly got off of the large figure who also stood up and adjusted his hakama accordingly that got slightly messed up in the fall. Once the figure is turned around, you are met with 3 pairs of eyes glaring down at your shorter form. It was none other than Kokushibou, or better known as the Upper Rank One based on the kanji in his eyes. You look stunned as you take in his appearance. You expected a much more piercing gaze due to him usually having one, but instead of that, his face was more relaxed and dare I say neutral.

`` There is no need princess, `` the male said as he bowed in respect, not daring to leave unless you order for him to do so. The demons that lurked around the Castle were ordered by your high and mighty older brother to refer to you as "Princess" since he deems himself as the king. You objected of course, but in this moment you had no ounce of rejection to give. Usually you would dismiss the demons that call you such a thing, but it felt different with Kokushibou.

`` Still I bumped into yo- nevermind. Kokushibou I can trust you right? ``

Your question came out of the blue for the demon. Why were you suddenly asking if you can trust a man like him? Of course he did devote his life to both you and Muzan but his inner feelings and self doubt block himself from doing so fully. You always made things difficult for him.

`` Yes, you can entrust me with your life. ``

`` Are you only saying that because my brother told you to, or are you genuine? ``

The demon was rather taken aback by your bold choice of words, his eyes slightly enlarging before going back to a neutral expression. He tilted his head to the side ever so slightly, confusion taking over his features.

`` Why would I not want to protect someone dear to me? ``

You took a singular step back, desperately fighting the heat rushing to your cheeks and so to not embarrass yourself in front of him you covered the bottom half of your face and feigning a look of pondering. 

`` If you are genuine as you claim to be, then I shall tell you. Muzan wants me to find a suitable partner. ``

You were blunt yet again, believing that sugarcoating information only draws away time that could be spent doing something much more worthwhile. You removed your hand from your face, now holding a stern look with the much taller Upper Moon whose expression has shifted. A visible vein was pulsing on his neck that you learned was due to annoyance.

`` Have you found anyone? `` Kokushibou said with no clear indication of aggravation, but you knew of the male's habits from the years that you have you have to learn of the Upper ranks and their habits. You stepped closer towards him until your chest dangerously brushed against his, your hand reaching up to his hand and grabbing it gently. Kokushibou tensed up at the feeling of your soft hand being interlocked with his, so much so that he could not take his eyes off of your enticing ones. 

`` Yes. You. ``

You stood on your tippy toes just to move closer to his face. His height may have been an obstacle but you succeeded, leaving the demon to be well enough flustered for it to be noticeable. Your little manipulative tactics resembled those of Muzan's, you are siblings after all. You tugged your hand away from his, sliding it up his forearm ever so slowly and to his chest, resting there and not daring to break the eye contact you have built.

`` Even though I am directly blood related to Muzan, would you be willing to be my partner and love me for who I am instead of who I am related to? ``

Kokushibou was well aware of what you meant with those words, after all he himself is very intelligent and could see through your advances. But even so, he found himself falling for them time and time again. You could simply be doing your hair and his mind would wander to how your raven locks would feel in between his fingers. With you being his Lord's younger sister, he thought it would be practically sinning to think of you in such ways, but now that the opportunity presented itself, he would not let it slip from his grasp.

`` It feels right, promise I don't mind. ``

`` That's all I needed to hear from you Kokushibou. `` 

It took one small lean forward for your lips to land on his. Kokushibou instinctively returned the kiss as if he was programed to do so, except it was his full will driving him forward to finally have you as his own. To be able to have you by his side was almost a dream come true for him without even realizing it. Demons are essentially deprived of any real feeling so to have you return his feelings of infatuation fed into his desire all the same.

Although before the kiss could turn into a much more scandalous one, you retracted, but cupped his face in your hands.

`` Would He approve of this? `` Kokushibou asked whilst peering into your enchanting eyes again. His hands had moved to your waist but were quickly removed after the kiss, his own fears blocking him from allowing himself to submit to your enticing touch.

`` I don't need his approval, I am my own person who can make her own decisions. But, it was his idea so there is no need to worry. ``

`` That is all I needed to hear. ``

Kokushibou was the one who leaned forward this time, but before your lips could connect, he went to your neck and bit on your skin harshly which was bound to leave a mark. You gripped at his hair and tugged him away from your neck after you let out a small whine since your greed was increasing.

`` I am simply marking what is mine now, isn't that right, Princess? ``

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

[powdermelonkeg]

Hyrule Brochure: A Potential for BotW’s Future

Hyrule’s map in BotW is pretty sparse as far as cities go. Yes, it’s got more than any other Zelda game, but it also has like, 90% of its map being pure dead space.

So I decided to play around and make what I imagine Hyrule would look like, as far as cities go, if it were allowed to properly rebuild and not get totally wrecked by Ganon again.

Credit to Eragon2589 on DeviantArt for the free-to-use map icons. I love these little buttons so much.

So, these are the canon towns we get in BotW; Hateno, Lurelin, Tarrey, Zora’s Domain, Goron City, Korok Forest, Rito Village, Yiga Hideout, and Gerudo Town. I’m counting Yiga Hideout as a town because if the Yiga were a little nicer, it WOULD be marked one.

Adding the various stables on makes the place look MUCH less empty, but still; what can we do with this?

Well, I’ve spent the last several days locating all the significant ruins and landmarks, with one or two extra things thrown in, that I think would make this place much more populated.

Maps are free to use if you want them, btw. Have fun!

As a general rule of thumb, I want to make the towers and stables their own cities. The towers are a good landmark and beacon of safety, and the stables have all the building blocks to start building up a village.

If I’m particularly inspired, I’ll give some background on what the town is/does!

Starting off with the Rito! Their village has grown into a town, and the stable at its foothill is its own village now. I called it “fledgeling” because that’s where the Rito and Hylians would intermingle most, so the Rito aren’t exactly flying around here.

Beacon City is built around Tabantha Tower; the Rito have turned it into a sort of lighthouse, reflecting light off into the distance to help guide nighttime fliers home. Because of this, it’s a very popular stop for mail carriers, and where they go, development and cultural mixing follows.

Kaysa Town is built around Great Fairy Kaysa’s fountain; it’s a popular tourist attraction, and she gets plenty of offerings, so win-win!

For the Gorons, we’ve only got two more cities: Silversmith Village and Din’s Spire. Silversmith is built around the culture in the southern mines, and it has down-the-road access to the Goron Hot Springs. Din’s Spire is less of a town and more of a landmark, due to the sheer cliffs all around it, but the huge (and notably not in the burning death zone) hot spring lake makes it a popular rest stop for people on their way through.

I decided not to rebuild the northern mines; they’re pretty busted up and lava soaked, so my assumption is that they were abandoned either due to hazards or due to the ore being stripped out.

Korok Forest wouldn’t change much, besides the Royal Family declaring it a protected area. The Koroks don’t seem to have much interest in expansion, and they, as far as I know, don’t live in houses.

Gerudo Territory is MUCH more expansive than the others so far, and with good reason.

Gerudo Town itself is now Gerudo City, and the Kara Kara Bazaar has grown into a town. Canyon Stable has developed a village (mostly full of Gerudo husbands so they don’t have to travel a million miles just to see their families).

The Gerudo have control of one of the towers in their region, and the town built around it is Overlook Town. It mostly serves as a training grounds for young Gerudo warriors.

The City of the Seven developed when the Seven Heroine statues were recovered and restored; the town around them was built to honor them, and then it got a LOT of foot traffic from those wanting to see the legendary statues.

Tera Town rose up much in the same way Kaysa Town did up in Rito territory, centered around the Great Fairy Fountain.

Mesa Village and West Gerudo Town are both smaller Gerudo settlements; West Gerudo sprung up out of access to snowmelt from the Gerudo Highlands, and Mesa Village, because of its relative safety from Molduga and access to oasis water.

Finally, Gerudo Valley, in reference to Ocarina of Time. This town is a Gerudo-only zone, and is more a fortress than a town. It exists both to keep an eye on the Yiga and to gain control of the mountain pass, making people go through Canyon Village to get to Gerudo instead of avoiding Gerudo customs.

Speaking of the Yiga, they’ve taken two new spots for themselves; Gerudo Tower, which they’ve renamed Kohga Tower in honor of their late Master, and Banana Labyrinth, which serves as their highest security area. Imagine if you’d had to go through the LABYRINTH to get the Thunder Helm back.

Up next we’ve got the Zora. Truthfully, their territory spans as long as Zora river and WELL into the ocean, but these are the only cities that, technically, a Hylian with adequate gear can enter.

Mipha’s Landing is an above-water city built expressly for doing trade. It got its name from the late Mipha; since the tower reaches up into the sky, it was hoped that someday, her spirit would sit atop it for a rest and see all that her people had been able to do thanks to her sacrifice.

Lakebed Village is in Lake Hylia, and it’s actually a slowly-repopulating Lakebed Temple, from Twilight Princess. Meanwhile, Great Bay City is a port town above water and an aquatic metropolis below, full of music and dance and exotic wares.

And finally, Hylians.

Hoo boy.

I’ve split this up region by region but

THIS is how many living spots they’ve got.

Silver stars indicate military towns. Red stars indicate military outposts.

I USE THE TERM MILITARY VERY LOOSELY HERE. Hyrule, since it doesn’t interact with its neighbors, only has the Yiga and the various monsters to fight against. Anything labeled “military” means that it’s staffed by royal employ, meaning knights and Sheikah and the like.

Let’s start with Akkala. The northeast labyrinth has been converted into an emergency bunker, in case Calamity strikes and people need a safe place to hide. Not only is it difficult to break into, it also has a completely empty lower level that’s PERFECT for long-term seige.

City Tempest got its name for being near-constantly wracked by storms. Despite this, though, it remains a popular vacation spot for people who don’t mind a little rain; the Skull Lake and the giant flowers are worth it.

Valley Town rose up out of both East Akkala Stable and Robbie’s workshop. It doesn’t get too much foot traffic, but it doesn’t really need to.

Midna Village, I built where the ruins of Shadow Hamlet are. I figured it was a fitting name, and the area is almost constantly covered in the shadow of Death Mountain.

Four Brothers’ Base is a knight outpost that’s up extremely high, spanning huge bridges between the four Tingle isles.

Then Parapa Palace, in reference to Zelda II: Adventure of Link, was built in place of the Akkala Citadel and functions as a mini Hyrule Castle + Castle Town. In real life, monarchs would have several palaces to go between, kind of like how well-off people nowadays would have a summer home. So, I followed that trend! This is Zel’s summer palace.

And you guys know what Tarrey Town is. Although interestingly, as it expands, it goes vertical into the stone column it was built on.

Onto Central Hyrule.

Camp Rauru is training camp and lodging for new knights. Rebonae Village and Kasuto City were made out of the Wetland and Riverside stables respectively, though Kasuto (also an Adventure of Link reference) gets substantially more foot traffic due to being on the way from Castle Town to Dueling Peaks.

Outset Town got its name, lore-wise, from the fact that it’s the first bit of land Link from BotW visited after leaving the Great Plateau, and meta-wise, because it’s the starting point for Wind Waker Link.

Aquame City surrounds the Coliseum, which is how it grew to be so popular. The grand stage holds sparring matches and various other shows regularly, and it’s a pleasant boat trip from Castle Town to get there.

Saria Town was built out of the old exchange ruins, and it’s in walking distance of the ruined Sage Temple—which, at this point in time, would have been rebuilt—and its existence is both an AoL reference and an OoT one (but mostly AoL, I’ve kind of fallen in love with its map).

New Mabe is where you can find the new Lon Lon Ranch! The ruins there are actually called the Mabe Town Ruins in game, and they’re right by the Ranch Ruins!

Eldin’s pretty sparse as far as Hylian towns go. It’s got Gut Check Camp, where Sheikah train for endurance and elemental resistance, and Windfall Town, a place that sees a LOT of gemstones pass through, freshly mined. That includes rupee ore, mind you!

Faron Province is a little more spaced out, due to the nature of the region. Lurelin’s grown since BotW, becoming a trading bay; meanwhile Cora Lake’s Sheikah Tower has expanded into Parache Town, and the Highland Stable has become Malanya Village. Both of those locations are VERY fond of horses, and they’re a bit competitive, especially during archery season.

Ordona Hamlet is a tiny village tucked away into the middle of Faron. It came about due to the Lakeside Stable, and it’s named that because I am STILL salty that the Zeldevs didn’t put an Ordon Village reference in the game.

Eventide Outpost is more of a testing ground for boats than anything particularly significant, population-wise. The even tides that gave the isle its name make it an ideal location to work out the kinks in new watercraft (and occasionally, the lieutenant in charge of that base demonstrates how to launch a raft into the sky with octo balloons).

Hebra’s the most militarized area of Hyrule, and ideally, it functions as a reserve of men and tech in case Calamity rises again. If there’s anything that BotW’s era learned, it’s to never underprepare for Gann’s return.

Fort Lomei is a converted base, just like the Banana Labyrinth is to the Yiga. This one, though, is patrolled diligently by knights who use daily-changing codes, and it’s impossible to navigate without the locals’ help.

Fort Pikida is situated in that weird stone cavern-y area, and it’s a supply stach and Hebran monster patrol site. It’s the soldiers there’s job to make sure that the Lynels that like to roam the region don’t get too close to residential areas.

Hia Miu Outpost is a training spot for knights sent to the Hebra region; any new soldier to the area has to prove they can handle themselves by going into the Hia Miu shrine and taking on the Major Test of Strength Trial. (Fun fact, did you know that the X-test-of-strength trials reset themselves every blood moon?)

Snowpeak Fortress exists both because it makes a fantastic secondary base for the Hyrulean royals to plan, and because i am once again salty about the lack of Twilight Princess in this game.

Sturnida Resort is built around hot springs! It’s a nice spot for people living around Rito Town and Fledgling Village to take a vacation without having to trek all the way across the country to do it.

Snowfield City came from Snowfield Stable, and it’s the Windfall of Hebra; it sees a LOT of people coming in and out of the region, and the view of the northern lights you can get from there? You’d be hard-pressed to find a Hylian that didn’t have it on their bucket list.

New Tabantha was built on the ruined spot of the original Tabantha Village; you can visit there in-game! It’s a quiet town that raises highland sheep for a living, and its team won the Hebran Triathlon three whole years in a row.

Then, the Tanagar Restricted Zone. If you’ve ever been there, you know EXACTLY why it’s restricted.

Most of the Guardians inside have been dealt with, but the ruined temple remains a hazard testing ground for new tech. It’s off limits to everyone but those with the HIGHEST clearance; I’m talking a direct letter from Zelda herself.

The Thyphlo Secret Camp is exactly what it says on the tin. It’s a place for Hyrulean lieutenants to meet for top-secret missions, and it’s one of those places that you need to be SERIOUSLY high rank to even KNOW about.

Over on the edge of Lanayru, we’ve got New Goponga, built where the old Goponga ruins are, and the Crenel Garrison. The Garrison was built to take care of the Lizalfos problems in the waterways, keeping it safe for Hylians and Zora travelers alike. Goponga, on the other hand, is what Lurelin was in game; nice, friendly, and centered around fishery.

In Necluda, we’ve got New Deya where old Deya was ruined (I think BotW Link was born in old Deya!), Watchtower Village built around the lakeside of the Dueling Peaks tower, and then Dueling Peaks City, a HUGE trade hub that was once the Dueling Peaks stable.

Kakariko Village is now a Town, Hateno has grown into a full blown trade harbor, and a tiny village has started to form around the Hateno Tower, making Firly Overlook.

But what I most love is the City of Hylanay.

Back in the game, it was the ruins of the Lanayru Promenade. So I had the promenade rebuilt, then people moved in around it, and now, Hylanay’s basically Hyrulean Venice! I want to visit it.

On the Great Plateau, we’ve got Aboda Town, named after Spirit Tracks’ Aboda Village in reference to the starting point in each game. This Town has access to the original Temple of Time, but because of the nature of the isolated plateau, it doesn’t see a lot of new faces often.

Over around Thundra, we’ve got Tanagar Village overlooking the canyon, built out of the old Tabantha Stable. The village actually builds downwards into the canyon; people have windows carved right out of the cliff face!

Thundra Village is built into the rocky slopes surrounding Thundra Plateau and the Ridgeland Tower. Their houses are built in the shelter of the giant mushroom things that grow so well in the area, and they’re famous for their signature dish of escargot.

The Serenne Exchange is up north, encompassing both the old Serenne Stable and the Maritta exchange ruins. You can buy practically ANYTHING there; if ever there was a supermarket in Hyrule, it would be right there.

The Royal Lab was rebuilt out of its ruins post Calamity, and it’s directed by Purah, who still hasn’t cured her immortality yet. It’s not uncommon to hear explosions as you pass by that place.

And then Camp Rutile is a small observational outpost, meant to keep track of the activity on Satori Mountain. Supposedly, the mountain’s health reflects the state of the rest of the kingdom, so the researchers assigned there are tasked with monitoring it EXTREMELY closely.

And Hyrule Castle. It’s Hyrule Castle.

Now completely bolted into the ground! :D

If we put all these locations together, we get a very nice, very well populated Hyrule, with LOTS to see. This is how I would design the future of BotW’s Hyrule.

Thanks for reading!

[askelectrochromic]

Asking myself, lol. From a comment on "Prussian Blue" by Almarna, edited for brevity:

Guess they are both relieved that it's out now. Their relationship was strangly uneven. Very close and miles appart at the same time, which was nicely reflected in the way this confession actually happend. Acknowledging that, should probably help them heal and bridge the gaps, even if it's painful (Samus seems more at peace with it atm though). At the same time it makes me wonder, will Samus tell him what he doesn't remember? At least the parts she knows? Will he ask her to? Or would he rather keep on not knowing? Sometimes I just want to hug them and tell them it's going to be alright. Silly old me.

On to some lighter things.

He bought meat?

Is, or rather was, Adam vegetarian? It's very sweet of him to cook for her, even though it's hard and he can't share.

By the way, is Adam already regretting getting Ghor to make him a face with such a convenient handle, erm, I mean beak? :D Good to see he's still akward old Adam. Not sure I would have been able to contain a laugh in Samus' stead.

SableGear0: I wanted to reply to this one here rather than on Ao3 because I suspected I would get rambly about it. (Turns out I did - responses, opinions, and lengthy digressions under the cut!) So, thank-you again to @almarnatiaam for your kind comments and continued readership!

I've enjoyed playing with the distance in Samus and Adam's relationship and I'm glad it shows through. They were, at one point, very close but there was still some necessary professional distance, and a lot of unspoken personal distance, between them. I was actually a little stuck initially on how to present this "second confession" but I think the framing I chose works well. It's got its points of similarity and contrast to Adam's first conversation with Anthony; rather than contained and isolated Adam is right next to the person he's speaking to, rather than being questioned he's free to tangent and ramble as he sorts out this thoughts, but both times he's out of his shell and vulnerable and he trusts the person he's with to respect that (even though what he's confessing to is utterly heinous), and both times it comes as a kind of relief even though it doesn't help his image any.

Samus will absolutely tell him about what he's missed. Maybe not all of it, or at least not all of it at once, but she does want to make him aware of some of the things she didn't include in her report. That conversation will probably crop up some time in the next few chapters. (Adam is probably on the fence about asking her. As much as he doesn't like having that gap in his memory, he knows he won't like what she has to say, even if it's important to know. He may prefer to remain ignorant, but they both know she's going to tell him at some point, whether he wants to hear it or not!)

Re: the soup - Yes! It's my headcanon that Adam was (is?) a vegetarian. This comes from a couple different inspirations. For one, it's a thought of mine that being some variation of vegetarian/vegan is just more common in the space-fantasy-future. It's more sustainable overall, especially when long-distance space travel is taken into account. I don't think Star Trek-style "replicators" for food exist, but lab-grown meat is probably a thing. For two, it's partly an extension of something Samus says in Other M taken to an extreme. She mentions something about Adam considering all life precious, which reads a bit melodramatic as OM tends to do. In context it's about the GF's ban on bioweapons which even then feels a little preachy - pardon me while I digress, but the series has set a precedent for very liberal genetic experimentation, so hearing that line in dialogue felt discordant, as if Samus is talking down on scientists for "playing God" (without saying that exactly but it's absolutely the implication in her tone) despite being a heavily engineered genetic chimera herself, and having grown up around the Chozo who were very adept at bio-engineering.

Anyway, back on topic, I choose to interpret the statement as Adam disliking the idea of any life being viewed as disposable, be it a sapient soldier, a creature engineered as a weapon, or an animal bred to be eaten. I plan on delving a bit more into this as I expose more details of his (very much headcanon'd) backstory, where and how he grew up figures into this a little bit. But yes, my version of Adam is vegetarian. He's not pushy about it, he recognizes it as a personal ethical choice and is used to the people around him not ascribing to the same principles. For example, he's actually fine cooking/working with meat because he was used to living with Ian, who didn't have the same restrictions, it's just not something he'd do for himself. He knows it's something Samus would seek out, however, so he was willing to do that for her as a bit of a peace offering.

(Another headcanon digression: Samus, interestingly, has sort of an opposite relationship with carnivory. Growing up with the Chozo on Zebes she was basically vegan until she was mature enough to hunt for herself. This gave her a similar-but-separate perspective to Adam's about the nature of life, death, and survival. She takes a more self-centered and pragmatic stance, but it's quite possible his principles influenced her "I must save everyone if I can" attitude, for better or worse.)

Re: the Kypros frame - He's a little confused by this odd new habit of hers, she's grabbed him by the beak a few times now so he's noticed the pattern for sure. Whether it's specifically because of the convenience of it, the fact that it is a beak as opposed to a more human-like face, (or if it has something to with her burgeoning metroidy nature?) he's not sure, and frankly neither am I. It's probably some combination of all three. Honestly I don't think I would be writing her as "touchy" if he was in something more human-like, I think I might just be enjoying the novelty of it via Samus's actions. (There is more I want to get more into about the minor physical aspects of their relationship, but that's best saved for later chapters...)

Thank-you again for the comment! Sorry this was a bit of a weird one crossposting it to here but I knew I would have a long-winded reply so I wanted to make my thoughts slightly more public.

[alynnl]

The World was Wide Enough AU (Triangle Strategy)

I’ve been listening to bits and pieces of the Hamilton soundtrack, and my New Game+ has renewed my interest in Triangle Strategy lore.

Are these two things interacting?  You bet!

Presenting: The World was Wide Enough AU

A twist on what I know of the Triangle Strategy Morality/Frederica path ending based on three songs from the Hamilton soundtrack.

It probably won’t make it into its own fic, but I thought it was worth sharing anyways.

Spoilers ahead as this is a late-game AU.

Part I: Let it Go

[Music]

It is post-chapter 17, and Serenoa has decided he will take both the group of Rosellans and his own people of House Wolffort to the distant land of Centralia away from the fighting.  Roland joins him in friendship, and Benedict, while still doubtful, follows out of loyalty to his lord and the people they watch over.  The plan to free the Rosellan people (with some of Wolffort’s own soldiers lending a hand) is a success, but the Holy State of Hyzante will not allow this escape to go on without obstacles.

While Idore and company go on to oppose Archduke Gustadolph in the brutal power struggle for Norzelia, Minister Exharme and a detachment of Hyzantian soldiers meet Serenoa and House Wolffort to block their final path that will lead them to the fabled Promised Land of Centralia.

The situation is grim.  By the time both sides meet on a bridge over the Norzelia River, they are exhausted from the long voyage.  Any battle will end in a bloodbath.  With his prideful streak, Exharme offers to settle matters with a one-on-one duel to the death with Serenoa.  He thinks it would be a shame if they were each to fall in battle against their respective soldiers without ever crossing blades again.

Serenoa wants to accept the offer.

Benedict tries to convince him to make a tactical retreat, since he cannot let feelings of pride get in the way of his better judgment.

Frederica builds on this, feeling that Serenoa’s life means everything to her… and the people of House Wolffort.

While Roland knows he cannot convince Serenoa to lay down his arms, he asks that he only goes through with the duel if he’s sure he can win.

Serenoa considers their views, and decides for the future of everyone, he will fight the duel.

Part II: The World was Wide Enough

[Music]

Serenoa agrees to the duel, with both sides of Wolffort and Hyzante soldiers as witness.  Both duelists fight with all their might, believing that their vision for the future is the right one.  There are moments it looks like it could go either way, until it comes down to final blows.  There is but a moment’s hesitation before Serenoa and Exharme’s blades strike true.  They both fall, with their most loyal companions surrounding them, hearing their last words.

It is in their last moments they realize, the world could’ve been wide enough for them, and their ambitions, had they only met under different circumstances and went down different paths.

There is a somber feeling in the air as the Hyzante soldiers wave the white flag of truce, and ask to carry Exharme away to properly commend his soul to the Goddess.  There is a similar feeling among House Wolffort, as Serenoa will now be given last respects before he goes on to join his father, and the generations before them, with his sword striking down the nightmares and doubts of his dearest companions.

House Wolffort decides to bury Serenoa on the other side of the bridge they fought so hard to reach, a strong reminder of the cost of war.

Despite losing their liege lord, the people of House Wolffort and the Roselle rally under Frederica, Roland, and to a lesser extent, Benedict.  

After two more months of marching, they find the land of Centralia at last, and begin to settle there.

Part III: Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story?

[Music]

In the years it took them to settle into Centralia, the newly freed Rosellans and displaced people of House Wolffort built a near replica of their late Lord’s castle.  Here, in the new House Wolffort, Frederica houses not only Serenoa’s friends and family, but also countless war orphans, both of Rosellan descent or otherwise.  She lives a long life, free of many of the hardships she faced before.

During that long life, with the help of her companions who followed her since the beginning, Frederica begins to write a series of books detailing the story of her late husband (whom she married just before the departure to Centralia.)  She does her best to include every moment of what would be known as the Second Saltiron War: all the times House Wolffort laughed, cried, and leaned on one another.

In the end, Frederica never remarries, but finds the connection of family with her companions who’ve always been with her, along with the children she helped raise in her orphanage.

At first Frederica’s writings only go as far as the land of Centralia.

But as decades pass, Norzelia slowly begins to emerge from the ashes and establishes friendly trade with this newer nation across its river.  

The book makes its way across many lands, and stage plays are written and performed about the noble House Wolffort and its last lord, Serenoa.

While his family line and life were cut short, the legacy of his house’s courage lives on, inspiring many to act true to their own convictions.

[spacetimewraithwrites-archive]

Find the Word Tag Game

(Double Feature)

tagged by: @talesfromaurea & @druidx!! my words: risk, expression, understand, convince, storage, watch, failure, tale tagging: @drippingmoon, @drabbleitout, @ashen-crest, @zmwrites, @asher-writes, @kaiusvnoir, @muddshadow, anyone who wants to, and the bees that hang out on our back deck. they’re huge and all they do is fly around in circles. your words: strict, stare, steal, stop, steer, start

risk (Rebirth)—

"That would mean you'd be exposing yourself to them," Guetry said. "It'll leave you open for them to trace you back to us and cut you off, you know that."

"Which is why you would temporarily untether us while I disable the security."

Guetry slowed to a halt beside the image of Neptune and turned to the viewscreen, brow furrowed. "...Wait, are you being serious about this?"

"I am."

"Absolutely not. No way. There are too many risks. Your processor isn't strong enough to handle a task like that. If they have fail-safes in place, you could be fried for good."

"My processor is strong enough. It works for thirteen percent of your neural functions and has room for plenty more. Technically, I could operate every system of your body if given the proper adaptation."

"And you think the power of an entire Morrite palace is in the same ballpark as some guy's bodily functions?"

"I have enough processing power to keep a small city running, Guetry."

expression (Meridian)—

Thrive's expression softened, dusted with melancholy.

"I want this," Warren continued. "You said I've sacrificed everything, and I meant it when I said I'd do it over again, but I'm tired. I'm tired of losing everything. You got to tape over the hole in your heart left by the eliyi, but I'm still hurting from losing everyone I've ever loved save for you guys. You...you are the only reason I'm still going right now."

At those last words, Warren choked up, his emotion threatening once again to spill over. Thrive swallowed back the combination of the runoff he felt through their connection and his own guilt.

"It's bad again," Warren admitted. "I barely want to get out of bed most days. I don't feel like I have a purpose anymore other than to fulfill your needs. I don't wanna feel that way. I don't want to end up resenting you."

The silence between them was thoughtful, but heavy. Thrive eventually dropped his gaze to the ground in contemplation.

understand (Aurora)—

"Possibly. We're taking it one step at a time. If they join us, it could be a huge blow against the venevans and the Morrites, and we'd have to prepare for any retaliation to that effect. But for now, we've got an impressive arsenal against the Emmuli, and we're very comfortable about our odds."

The frown digging into Thrive's face indicated that he was, in fact, very uncomfortable about their odds, though he remained silent on that fact.

DeCosta paused. "I'd like to take a second to thank both of you for everything. I know we haven't always been on the same page, but I admire and respect you for accomplishing everything you'd accomplished thus far. I'm truly sorry for anything I've said or done that could have personally offended you, and I hope you understand my intentions are and have always been good."

Thrive nodded. "It's water under the bridge, Delegate. And for the record, I, too, apologize for any and all irrationality on my part. I look forward to…" He trailed off, a muscle in his jaw working as he fought to stay composed enough to carry on with this major omission of information. "I look forward to working with you again in the future."

convince (Rebirth)—

Warren left them to rehearse, running into Varussa as he exited the room.

"You coming to see Skywaste on the Node, Warren?" she asked, pulling her hair out of its ponytail.

He nodded. "I'm guessing you are, too?"

"I've convinced everyone." She smiled. "I've been listening to their albums off the library. Guetry's really good, right?"

Warren inwardly snickered. "Oh, yeah."

"I mean...Alec's very talented, too...I just…" She cleared her throat. "I...prefer the instruments he plays, that's all."

Warren quirked an amused eyebrow. He didn't have to be silhou to know what was up. "Gotcha."

She made a hasty exit and Warren snorted, retreating to the commander's quarters.

storage (Rebirth)—

"Perhaps I can help," Scotty said, voice tinny in the small room.

Guetry placed his rifle in the weapons locker. "Whatcha got?"

"I've lifted files from the data storage on ———'s ship."

"How the hell did you do that?"

"The system purges classified information over a signal similar to wi-fi. For lack of a more comprehensive term, I grabbed them on their way past. The files are heavily encrypted, but with some time I could unlock it. I suspect it leads to Hyret's hidden palace."

"You serious?" Guetry grinned. "God, what would I do without you?"

Warren looked at him, surprised at the sincerity of his tone.

watch (Eternal)—

"We're going to consult the Consortium about commissioning a ship. Do you think we could get back to the—"

Warren stopped short after realizing simultaneously that he was no longer holding the comm device and that his floor looked different. A buzz of static snapped within his skull, and he reeled back as if shocked by a livewire. A mirror directly across from him caught his attention; his reflection much thinner and with a full beard, hair reaching his ears.

He stared, unable to fully comprehend what had happened. He watched his reflection reach up to the collar of his maroon jumpsuit. Stars went out through the window in his peripheral, dying one by one, the power in the station shut off. Flashing crimson emergency lights bathed the room in chilling shadows.

He started to breathe heavily despite every nerve in his body telling him this wasn't real. He wasn't on the Destiny, he was on the Consortium Node. No longer in his cell, but his far-too-small apartment in the Southern Division.

...Here you are.

The stars began to fizzle out much faster, and a cautious glance outside told Warren there was an undulating shape of black smoke outside, billowing around the facility. The pulsing red light grew tighter and Warren felt a sharp, icy finger trail around the back of his neck as the familiar voice rumbled intimately in his brain.

failure (Meridian)—

"I'm getting the news now," Scot said. "There's an investigation underway. There's speculation that it's an attack by the terrorist organization known as the Failure to Thrive, or the FaiTh as they're more colloquially known."

"Not those guys again," Warren yelled. "Jesus Christ, how about just one fucking day where nobody in the universe dies?"

Scot and Hondris took to talking over one another about how impossible that would be and felt the need to clarify that though unfortunate, people die of various reasons every second of every day. Scot went into the odds of there being a single day where nobody died, and Hondris decided to lay on a guilt trip about the venevans and the qrihk that Warren really did not need to experience right then and there.

"Hey!" Warren snapped his fingers between their faces and glowered at them as they fell silent. "Shut the fuck up!"

Scot nodded. "That's fair."

tale lie (Eternal)—

"Just know that when and if it does—"

"Warren," Thrive interrupted, "as much as I am endlessly grateful for your presence and your support, I am not made of glass. I've been pushed past my limits recently, yes, but it's insulting to assume I've never had to cope with this amount of stress before and will fail to do so now."

Warren glanced around at everyone else not even paying them any mind. "This isn't just you dealing with ———. This is ———, the attack on Earth, the loss of ———, the war, the disappearance of an entire other race of—"

Thrive cracked a grin, much to Warren's surprise. "I have no choice but to be the strongest one here."

"You do have a choice. You just as much as any of us have the option to just...let it all out."

"No." Thrive shook his head. "I do not."

"Well excuse me for being concerned after you told me yourself you need to retire because things are getting too hard for you."

Thrive paused as if he'd been caught out in a lie. "Varussa, what is our estimated time of arrival into R'lis space?"

[aspiringauthorintraining]

Sands of Eon (2/2)

(A/N): hoped you liked the first part. Enjoy! Read with sad music cause I wrote it with sad music. I hope you cry lol.

Part 1 here!

Fighting in a battle changes a person. But surviving an Archon war destroys them.

At least now, you had a better understanding of what Xiao went through before. And seeing how it affected you, it made you all the more thankful that you could suffer in place of Xiao.

Once you arrived in the past, you had successfully prevented the contract between Kubira and Xiao from coming to fruition. It was simple really. Kubira wanted a servant to do his bidding, and figured Xiao would be perfect for the role. But if the god were to find someone before Xiao, someone who was willing to become his bloodhound instead, there would be no reason for him to actively search out the adeptus. In short, you took over Xiao’s role in the war. It was the only plan that would change the outcome of the war and the future the least, without having others get involved.

All it took was offering yourself. You had surprised the god, who was amused that a mere human would want to serve in his army. But he decided to humor you, and in exchange for your obedience to his orders, he granted you immortality and increased power. By the end of the forsaken war, your power had become strong enough to rival an adeptus’. At the price of insurmountable bloodshed.

You hadn’t seen Xiao during the war, something that you were thankful for later on.

Not a day would pass that you wouldn’t think of him; hesitating, wondering if you would be able to face him after all that you had done. If he would look at you in disgust, knowing of all the deeds you had done for your master. If it would be worth facing his hatred, just to get a glimpse of his face once more.

Once the long war reached its end, Rex Lapis freed you from the chains of your blood-filled servitude. You had considered asking the archon to bring an end to your curse of immortality, but decided against it.

You could have had a merciful death, spending the last of your days as a human. But you didn’t deserve such an easy death, not after all the inhumane sins you committed. What you truly deserved, was to live every day of the rest of your immortal life; remembering every life you had taken, every drop of blood shed with your polearm, never being able to escape the horrors you submitted yourself to. You would continue to roam Teyvat, neither human nor adeptus, barely surviving, barely hanging on the thread of sanity left in you. Never forgetting that you had chosen your fate.

And the selfish part of you urged you to keep your immortality as well. You held onto the selfish desire to see Xiao one day, smiling and celebrating, surrounded by the people of Liyue. Blissfully unaware of what you endured and suffered, in his stead.

And as a millennia passed, you never once regretted changing your fate with Xiao’s. You had made your choice, and you now lived with it.

Your life followed in the steps of Xiao’s original fate, spending your days and years protecting Liyue; an atonement for your sins, as well as gratitude to the Geo Archon who saved you. On quiet days, you ate Almond Tofu at the Wangshu Inn, finally understanding why the adeptus had craved the dish so much before. It was the texture, rather than the taste that made it so alluring.

Avoiding the yaksha in the millennia had been easier than you thought. The only way you would hear about Xiao was through the Geo archon, who came to visit every now and then, checking up on you from time to time. He would update you on the man’s whereabouts and health during each visit, keeping the adeptus nameless, per your request.

“I don’t remember my real name.”

“Xiao isn’t your real name?”

“No, it was given to me by Morax after the Archon War…”

Xiao wasn’t his name anymore, and you figured not knowing his name would prevent you from ever seeking him. The less you knew, the better.

“It’s the last night of the Lantern Rite festival, (Y/N).”

Verr Goldet informs you as you greet her on your way up the stairs.

“Is it that time already?” you asked with a small smile. You reached down to pet the cat who rubbed her back against your leg with a purr.

“The traveler stopped by to let you know his invitation to join him and his flying companion at the festival still stands.”

You looked out at the terrace, watching the violet, sunset sky turn darker with each minute.

“You know me. I’m fine watching from the roof.” you responded, shaking your head.

The Wangshu owner gave a sigh at your response.

“At least go to the mountains for a better view. I’ll pack you an Almond Tofu so you can eat dinner up there while watching the ending festivities.”

Seeing her pleading face, you couldn’t reject her suggestion.

You finally reached the top of the mountain, giving you a good view of the city of Liyue, as well as the lanterns floating in the sky. Looking down into the city square, you could see the people of Liyue celebrating the last moments of the festival: children running around with last-minute made lanterns, lovers gathered near the bridge hand-in-hand, and Ruijin explaining the rules of her new game to the curious crowd. But it was the crowd gathered in the center, dancing in a big circle that grabbed your attention.

You spotted a figure dressed in teal, playing a flute instead of his usual lyre, providing music for the crowd to dance to. You smiled seeing the anemo archon having the time of his life. And it seemed that one more figure was having the time of his life, in the center of the dancing circle, wearing a mask and dancing along to the bard’s wind music.

Your breath hitched at the sight of the figure. Even with the mask on, you could recognize him anywhere. It was your first time seeing him in over a millennia, and you could still remember his face, down to every last detail.

Before you knew it, tears streamed down your face, the sight of finally seeing him overwhelming you with emotions.  

“Looks like your wish was granted too.” you laughed happily through your tears, remembering what he had wrote on the lantern you once gave him long ago.

“For a day to come to wear the mask, not to conquer demons, but to dance to the tune of that flute amidst a sea of flowers.”

                                                                                           - Xiao

As he continued dancing, you were entranced, never being able to see this side of him before your time venture.

It was only when the ending rite began that he had stopped his movement, taking his mask off to properly watch the show. Your heart stopped at the sight of his face, a small smile gracing his features. And it wasn’t until the ending fireworks rang in your ears, that your heart was reminded to beat again, realizing you had spent the whole ending festival watching him.

You took a moment to look out at the vast sea of lanterns, wondering if Xiao had made one of his own, and what wish he had written on the lantern. Taking one last look at the brightly-lit night sky, you turned your attention back to the city, watching as a group of people surrounded Xiao with smiles on their faces. And at the sight of his responding smile, all the pain you had endured up til now was forgotten.

“Xiao.” you called out quietly.

It was the wrong name, but it was the only one you knew him by.

The yaksha darted his eyes around the crowd, seemingly as if he had heard you call out to him. Although, it was far too loud with festivities in the square, and the distance between the two fo you, that it wasn’t likely.

“Happy Lantern Rite.” you whispered, a tear falling down your cheek.

It was worth it. Seeing the smile on his face, surrounded by the people of Liyue who respected him. It was worth your loneliness and pain, to save him from his. Being the only one to remember everything would be a suffering you would gladly take for his happiness.

So, you forced yourself to tear your eyes away from the his figure, away from the lantern-lit city. And silently, you headed down the mountain, back to Wangshu Inn, alone.

(A/N): AhhHHH!, you’ve made it to the end! Thank you for reading! I felt so sad playing the story quest for Xiao during the Lantern Rite festival. I planned on having a happy ending but just ended up going on an angst spiral. Let me know what you thought! I’m thinking of doing another part with a possibly happier ending, but we’ll see if I’m up for it lol. Again thank you for reading! Safe readings!

Like, comment, subscribe, ring the bell for notifications for more videos. jk lol, this isn’t youtube. Just play some Genshin.

[honeypiehotchner]

intelligence & issues (Hotch x Reader) -- chapter eleven

I’m backkkk <33 Enjoy!

Today’s chapter title comes from “Wildest Dreams” by Taylor Swift and honestly? That song is Hotch and Reader’s song tbh

Chapter Warnings: fluff! Crime scene stuffs, case stuffs, and Hotch is an asshole at the end (what’s new?)

Previous chapter || Fic Masterlist

Chapter Eleven: I thought, “Heaven can’t help me now.”

When you wake, you have a strange sense of Deja Vu. Hotch is shaking your shoulder again, only this time, you’re not in your bed.

“We’re landing soon,” he says softly, hand lingering on your shoulder, but you welcome its weight and warmth, forgetting for a moment that the rest of the team is on this jet.

“Mm, okay…” You bring the blanket underneath your chin, only this is when you realize it’s not a blanket.

You tilt your head down to look at the fabric, then lift your eyes back up to see Hotch isn’t wearing his jacket.

His jacket.

Oh my God.

He sees the realization on your face and smiles, but instead of commenting on it, he turns to start waking the others. As expected, Rossi didn’t sleep, but Reid is still quite frankly passed out. Emily, JJ, and Morgan are coming around, though, and upon seeing that, you scramble to get Hotch’s jacket off of you, catching Rossi’s eyes in the process.

“You were cold,” Rossi says with a shrug, and a smirk.

You shouldn’t be mortified, but you are.

After folding Hotch’s jacket over your arm, you wait until your boss is sitting back down to hand it to him with a raised eyebrow. “Thank you,” you whisper.

“You’re welcome,” he says, thinking nothing of it as he shrugs it back over his shoulders. When he sees you’re still looking at him like that, he adds, “You were getting goosebumps. Would you have rather I let you freeze to death?”

Is he making a joke? You wonder, with the corners of his lips tugging upward. You shake your head, saying nothing else.

No wonder you slept so soundly.

+++

Upon arriving at the local police station, you’re all met with the usual: desperate officers who want you to snap your fingers and find the unsub ASAP.

And, they always look pretty displeased when you admit that you need time.

You swear sometimes people think the BAU is made up of sorcerers who can see the future and not regular humans who are just trained to recognize and predict behaviors.

Regardless, they’re happy you’re here.

“I was shocked myself when I made the connection,” Sheriff Ansley says, nodding to the pictures of the other seven victims, with Nathan and Jonathan at the end. “Those others were so spaced out, we just… Oh, it sounds bad, but when you’ve got other problems coming across your desk, they can all blur together.”

“We understand,” you say, trying to be the comforting one here, even though you’re feeling more and more like time doesn’t exist and that you’ve entered a third dimension.

A few hours of sleep and jet lag can really do a person in. Especially with the added stressor of Hotch standing next to you.

“Morgan, L/N, I need you to come to the crime scene with me,” Hotch says, and your eyes widen the moment your name slips from his mouth. Is he trying to mess with you? You figured after covering you up on the jet, he’d make a conscious effort to be as far away from you today as possible. Just because Morgan is also coming along doesn’t mean much. Profilers aren’t dense.

“Prentiss and I will go talk to the victim’s family,” Rossi says, nodding to Emily.

Reid says nothing, too engrossed by the pictures and details tacked up on the board. Though, after a moment, he says, “I need a map of the town. Maybe the region. Yeah...the region.”

A little confused, Sheriff Ansely replies, “We’ll get that for you.”

JJ notices the confusion and says, “I’ve got it, don’t worry.”

With everyone focused, you pile into a vehicle with Hotch and Morgan up front (you purposefully sit in the back) to head to the crime scene. Sheriff Ansley leads in her car, and about two seconds in, you wish you would’ve thought to ride with her.

“You know I have to ask,” Morgan begins, a shit-eating grin on his face as he looks over at Hotch. “What did you get up to last night? Get lucky?”

Hotch looks ready to backhand his fellow agent. “No.”

Morgan keeps going. “Come on, Hotch, it’s about time you get some.”

“For now, I’ll stick to the case.”

Morgan huffs, giving in, which you think is for the better. But when Morgan turns his head to look out the window, Hotch catches your eyes in the rearview mirror.

You sink as far down as you can in your seat, biting the inside of your cheek to hide your smile.

+++

You have no clue what you were expecting when you pictured the outside of Jonathan King’s house, but it wasn’t this.

A few police cars are already here, their men having already gone in to look around, but not touch anything. A few cars look tiny next to the monster that is the mansion you’re looking at.

“I thought this was a small town,” you mutter, closing the car door.

“Jonathan’s daddy was the owner of the only car dealership in town,” Sheriff Ansley explains. “They were big money.”

“I can tell,” you shake your head. “Definitely don’t have houses like this where I’m from.”

The sheriff chuckles. “Yeah. Before they built it, this was a wide open field. Tiny house. Space for all kinds of animals. Had a red barn out there,” she points off to where a gigantic pool complete with a rock waterfall is.

You hum. “A lot changes for the worse sometimes when money comes in.”

She looks at you then, almost like she respects you a little more now. Which isn’t unusual. The sheriffs in small towns don’t exactly like having to call the FBI in for help. Some do it rather begrudgingly. It’s more often than not that you find yourself being the bridge between big city and small town.

“Any signs of forced entry?” Hotch asks the first officer he sees and they shake their head.

“Nothing. But this damn mansion is so big…” He trails away, looking around at it all.

“I understand,” Hotch sighs. “If you find anything, let us know.”

“Hotch,” you speak up, nearly tapping his shoulder, but you quickly pull your hand back. “If this unsub is a woman, then it’s likely there won’t be any forced entry.”

The sheriff nods. “She has a point.”

“How?” Morgan asks, eyebrows furrowed over his sunglasses.

“Seriously?” You deadpan. “Do you want me to demonstrate?”

He catches on, and drawls, “Go right ahead,” prompting you to shove his shoulder.

“Focus,” Hotch scolds. “I hear you. He probably let her in.”

“Did Jonathan have a reputation of being a player?” Morgan asks. “Take a lot of girls out on dates? Get serious with a lot of them but never marriage-serious?”

Sheriff Ansley nearly snorts. “Oh, yeah. He was the town’s bachelor. New woman every week. Swore every single one was The One.”

You nod slowly. “He must’ve picked up the wrong one, then.”

“Evidently so,” she replies quietly, leading the three of you into the house.

Hotch opts for looking around the house with the sheriff while you and Morgan go to Jonathan’s bedroom.

And he’s still lying there. Wonderful.

You nearly gag, but stop yourself. You’re never going to get used to this shit. At least there isn’t blood literally drenching the walls like that other case.

Moving on.

“Looks like it’s the exact same MO,” Morgan comments, idly checking the body for anything the officers might’ve missed.

You dig around on Jonathan’s dresser, drawers, nightstand, everywhere.

“This guy was seriously rich,” you mutter, picking up a few really expensive watches. Upon opening one drawer, you literally find a wad of cash. At least two thousand dollars, stuffed in between pairs of socks. “The unsub didn’t take this?” You hold up the cash to Morgan.

“She must not’ve spent time here,” he concludes. “Doesn’t look like she took any trophies either.”

“I can’t imagine why,” you say, then crack a smile. “So you’re on my side then, huh?”

He turns his head, eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

“It’s a woman.”

Morgan chuckles. “Yeah, kiddo. I’m on your side. This has woman all over it.”

“Kiddo,” you groan, tossing the cash back in the drawer. “Any clothes from the unsub lying around? I’m guessing she’s smarter than that.”

“Yeah, there’s nothing,” Morgan says, going into the bathroom. “The window in here is locked tight.”

“I really doubt she forced her way in,” you say. “He probably took her out on a date, brought her inside willingly, and didn’t realize until it was too late that he should not have messed with her.” You pause. “Does this place have security cameras? It looks expensive enough to have them. We should get Garcia to get the footage.”

You’re too busy rambling to see that Morgan has walked back into the room, only this time he’s eyeing you carefully.

You turn your head, raising an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“Listen, I know these guys were…” He gestures rather than saying it.

“Rapists?” You say tiredly, placing your hands on your hips. No need to be afraid of saying the word around you. You’ve heard it plenty and said it yourself more times than you want to. “What about it?”

“I just wanted to say I know how good it can feel to see someone like that taken down,” Morgan says slowly. “And then you feel guilty for feeling good.”

You set your jaw, hating he’s right. You’ve yet to admit it to yourself, though. Isn’t it wrong? On multiple levels? You’re supposed to catch the bad guys, not relate to them so much that you understand why they’re doing this.

“And I know it can also bring up some bad memories, but, I’m here for you,” he says, keeping his eyes on yours. “I mean that.”

“Thanks, Derek,” you whisper. “It does...kinda feel good, but...I know it’s the wrong way to do it.”

“Do what?”

“Make a difference,” you shrug. “If I killed Trevor, I’d be taking the short route. That’s why I’m here. To make a bigger difference.”

He smiles then, gently. “And you’re doin’ it. Trust me.”

You let yourself smile, too. “Thanks. Now let’s get back to work before boss man comes in here telling us to focus,” you mimic Hotch’s voice and tone at the end, making yourself laugh as you turn back around.

And that’s when you have the absolute shit scared out of you because Hotch is standing there, frowning at you. Oh, he totally heard that.

“Sorry, sir,” you murmur, knowing you should apologize while you’re ahead.

Thankfully, to save yourself from embarrassment, Morgan’s phone starts ringing. He pulls it out and puts it on speaker.

“Talk to me, babygirl.”

“All of our other victims? Yeah, they were accused of rape, too. Four of them were acquitted or blatantly dismissed, three of them with such short sentences it probably felt like a vacation.”

You roll your eyes. “Sounds about right.”

Hotch eyes you, but talks to Garcia. “Get us a list of anyone in this region that fits those same criteria.”

“Already done, and it is heading to JJ as we speak.”

Morgan shakes his head at how good she is. “Oh, and check and see if you can get the footage from Jonathan’s security cameras at his house. Y/N thinks he should have some.”

“She’s correct, I just found them,” Garcia says, no doubt through a smile. “I’ll send the footage over and start looking.”

“We should get back to the station and go over those names, see if we can narrow it down at all,” Hotch says. “Hopefully Garcia can get us something from that video.”

+++

Garcia gathers one thing from the video, but it’s not anything to do with facial recognition.

For now, it’s obvious this woman is a strong suspect because she’s the only one seen entering and leaving the house (she walked out right through the front door with her head down) in the window of time that Jonathan was killed. But...

“There’s not a clear shot at all,” Garcia says. “Because they’re… How do I put this? His lips are basically attacking her face and it’s a miracle they made it inside instead of just going at it against the door.”

Morgan snorts out a laugh, Reid (who is working on connecting the nine victims further) goes impossibly red, and Hotch shakes his head.

“Well, we’ve got a physical description now,” Rossi says, trying to see the bright side before Hotch loses it, you’re sure.

“Yeah, but it’s just a young brunette in a dress and heels,” Emily argues. “That’s nowhere near narrow enough.”

“Brown hair is actually the second most common hair color,” Reid supplies. “The most common is black, but they’re usually lumped together in studies. A recent one found that 84% of the world’s population has dark hair. But, of course, women are more likely to color their hair than men—”

“We got it, kid,” Morgan says gently, tapping Reid’s shoulder to get him to slow down.

“So,” you chuckle, “she has dark hair, which are the two most common hair colors.” Then, seemingly out of nowhere, a thought occurs to you. “Wait, can I see the video again?”

Garcia plays it again.

“Pause there,” you point to the woman’s hands. “See how she reaches for his wrist?”

“Where are you going with this?” Morgan asks.

It’s then that it occurs to you just where you’re going with this, and you try to hide your embarrassment.

“You can play it again.” After a few seconds, you get Garcia to pause again. “See? She tries to pin his wrists. She’s dominating. She’s the one in control there. See how his back is against the door, too? He didn’t start that way, she turned them around to get the upper hand.”

“So she’s confident,” Emily ponders.

“In sexual situations, at least,” you add. “Some women who are outwardly shy, but like to dominate in bed. It can be different for everyone.”

“So you’re saying we’re looking for a super quiet, shy woman?”

“Not necessarily. Given that she has had enough confidence to kill these nine men without anyone noticing, I’d be willing to bet she’s pretty confident now. It could be a newfound confidence, or she honestly could have always been this way. A lot of Dominatrixes are pretty confident outside of the bedroom, too. Maybe not in the same way, but they are. Just comes with the territory.”

“A territory you seem to know a lot about,” Morgan teases, poking your shoulder.

You scoff. “You wish.”

But your eyes find Hotch’s and you feel another rush go through you, all the way to your toes. You burn every single time you’re underneath his gaze. Averting your eyes quickly back to the screen, you try to shift in your seat in the least noticeable way.

It’s not like he doesn’t already know. If he seriously doesn’t know or at least have some suspicion, then you might suggest he get a new profession.

Redirecting the attention back to the case, Hotch turns to Sheriff Ansley and says, “We’re ready to give a preliminary profile.”

The team stands to head out to the main area. You and Hotch are the last two left, which you’re sure he did deliberately.

“You should take the lead,” he says, and you swear, your heart falls out of your ass.

“What?” You’ve never taken the lead on a profile in your life. Why would he just spring this on you right now? On this case, of all cases? Seriously?

He doesn’t change his mind. “I trust you to get all of the details right. And we’ll jump in when needed, but I want you to take the lead.”

You’re shaking your head. “Hotch, I haven’t—”

“It’s an order,” he says, voice firm. “Understood?”

“Yes.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Yes what?”

Bastard. He did it again. “Yes sir.”

And your jaw nearly ends up on the floor when he smirks, a quiet, “Good girl,” falling from his lips.

Damn him. Now you’re supposed to give the profile? How bad would it be to let Emily take over so you can jump Hotch in the nearest supply closet?

You never find out how bad it would be because Hotch walks out and thanks the officers for being there, and introduces you, giving you zero time to recover.

“Thank you so much for your patience,” you say first. “The unsub we’re looking for is, in fact, a woman, confirmed by some security footage that was recovered from Jonathan King’s home. She’s a brunette, average height, attractive, and she’s confident. She’s killed nine times and hasn’t been caught yet, so she’s likely to be gaining confidence.”

An officer raises his hand, so you nod to him. “No offense...but your description fits practically every girl in this town -- I guess, besides the killing part.”

“That’s what we figured,” you admit. “Unfortunately, this kind of unsub is the hardest to catch. They don’t stand out at all, they blend right in. It’s partly why they go so long without being caught.”

“But they’re not impossible to catch,” Rossi adds, helping you out with the annoyed officers. “This unsub has already killed twice in a week, which could be a sign that she’s beginning to devolve. When they’re in this state, they are easier to catch because they tend to get reckless and forget things, change patterns, which is what we need.”

“So we need to keep a tight lid on this for now,” JJ says. “The media isn’t going to cover this at all tonight because we need our unsub to believe she’s still getting away with it.”

Another officer pipes up. “If the news isn’t gonna report this, how can we keep people safe?”

It’s a valid question. It’s one that you always get when you decide to not have media coverage.

“Keep an eye out. And don’t take any women home,” Morgan offers.

But that doesn’t seem good enough, because the same officer says, “All due respect, sir, but asking a man not to do that is like asking him not to breathe.”

The amount of laughter and you got that right’s that you hear from the other male officers makes your stomach twist. Morgan’s small laugh makes you want to smack him.

“Well, try to refrain for a while,” you state plainly, bringing the focus back around. “If you can help it.”

Another officer says, “I don’t know if I can…” and clicks his tongue mockingly.

“Well, this unsub targets rapists,” you say loudly, placing emphasis on the word. “So if you aren’t a rapist, consider yourself safe and sound.”

That causes an uncomfortable silence to settle over the room, but you could care less. It should make them uncomfortable. It’s unfair that it’s something women have to just live with. It’s bullshit.

Emily and JJ share a look with you, the only kind women can understand. Makes you want a drink. And it’s not even late afternoon yet.

Rossi helps draw things to a close while Hotch practically stares you down. Not subtle at all. You feel it, and for that reason, you don’t look at him. But he’s hard to ignore.

Especially when he walks over and says, “I need to have a word with you,” and walks past you, giving you no choice but to follow.

Well, you could choose not to follow, but you’re not so sure you want to take your chances there. Not that the thrill of the idea doesn’t get you all excited, but now is not the time or place.

So, with your heart racing and your annoyance showing clearly on your face, you follow your boss to an office at the end of the hall. He’s waiting for you, already inside, and he doesn’t look happy.

What’s new?

He shuts the door behind you, his arms crossing over his chest again.

After a few moments of silence, you raise your eyebrows. “What?”

“Don’t be a brat,” he says sternly, causing your stomach to twist for different reason. “And don’t say what. You know what.”

You shake your head slowly. “I don’t, actually. That’s why I asked.”

He looks ready to absolutely devour you in the worst way possible, yet he doesn’t move. “I understand that after the case in your hometown—”

“God, why does everyone keep bringing that up?” You’re two seconds away from throwing your hands in the air like a child, but you stop yourself after the look he gives you.

“Because it just happened three weeks ago,” he replies, voice even. “And because it took a toll on you. That’s not something to be ashamed of, it’s just a fact.”

“You’ve never been up my ass about cases like this, not until you found out.”

“My knowing has not changed anything,” he says, and you think he might mean it. “And last I checked, this is your first case with a female unsub attacking rapists.”

You could punch him. You really want to punch him. “What’s your point?”

“I need to know that you can be objective,” he says. “I know you relate to our unsub. I know how easy it was for you to put yourself in her shoes. You did it almost immediately. I bet you knew it was a female unsub within the first few seconds of the debriefing.”

He’s right. Dammit. “And?”

“I need you to be on our side of this case.”

“I am!”

“Are you?” He counters. “If you knew who this unsub was, would you turn her in?”

“Are you suggesting—”

“Hypothetically.”

“Yes! For God’s sake, yes, I would turn her in.”

“Are you being honest with me?”

“What is wrong with you today?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest. “If you have something else to say you might as well say it while we’re alone.”

He doesn’t move. Or say a single word.

So much for that.

“Look,” you uncross your arms, tired of fighting already. It’s exhausting on any normal day, but pair it with jet lag and it being between you and the man you obviously care for, and it’s a million times more exhausting. “Yes, I get where this unsub is coming from. Honestly, if it was legal and if there was a market for a job like what she’s doing, I probably would’ve gone into it instead of the FBI. But there isn’t. Because killing people is illegal. So I decided to go to the FBI to make a bigger difference— a real difference. Yes, I relate to the unsub. I get why she’s doing what she’s doing. But just because I get it doesn’t make it right.”

“Good,” he nods. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “I shouldn’t have even had to say it.”

The room falls silent.

Hotch sees it then, that look in your eyes. During the profile, it was all determination and confidence. When you entered the office, it was bratty and defiant. 

Now, it’s hurt.

That’s all he sees. And frankly, that’s all you’re feeling.

Since he doesn’t say anything else, you take it upon yourself to say, “Excuse me,” and join the team in the conference room with only one question on your mind.

Does he not trust me at all?

Next chapter