#but plot twist when i place him in game he is still broken

[blindmagdalena]

You Let Me Complicate You

18+ 4k homelander x f!reader. bickering, post-breakup sex, dubcon/coercion, angst, jealousy, emotional manipulation, implied murder, stalking, boundary smashing, breaking and entering, cunnilingus, penetrative sex. read on AO3. written as a follow-up to the breakup, but can be read as a standalone. gif credit.

Breaking up with Homelander is... complicated. After all, it is a god that loves you.

"What do I taste like?" You asked him once, drunk on pleasure and those early honeymoon days of loving him. He’d been slow to answer, thinking it over. "Love," he said at last. "Like you love me." You wonder if that holds true. If he can still taste love in you. If that’s why he’s so eager to devour you, or if the absence of it has made him even hungrier.

Homelander is an aberration.

Stronger than a hundred men, faster than a bullet and sharp as a tack all paired with a teaspoon’s depth of emotional maturity. He’s volatile, twisted, broken in ways no amount of therapy could ever hope to duct tape back together. He’s no better off than a dog that bites to kill. No matter how he got to this point, the best thing for him–for the world–would be to put him down by any means necessary.

Too bad you can’t seem to stop fucking him.

It’s late when you hear the front door open with a distinct crack. You’re sprawled out on the couch in the living room, one leg draped lazily over the armrest. What comes next is no surprise to you–a shock of primary colors filling the narrow doorway, a handsome face made ghoulish by the haunting light of the television in an otherwise dark room.

“You nailed the door shut,” Homelander says, the inflection of his voice somewhere between a question and a statement.

“Because you broke it,” you throw back, a stale Twizzler balanced between your lips. It had tasted good enough when you started eating it, but now–in his presence–the sweetness of it has turned sour.

“You changed the locks,” he says with a light shrug, cape swaying as he meanders towards you. “My key didn’t work.”

“Your key? Stealing a key to my house does not make it your key,” you say tersely, lifting your foot to press it firmly to his thigh, stopping him in his tracks. 

He glances down, a mirthless smile tugging at the corner of his mouth before he catches your ankle in his gloved hand, yanking you down the couch so suddenly you lose your Twizzler to the floor with a gasp. It’s one thing to know that Homelander has strength enough to throw cars like frisbees. It’s another to feel it. It sends a rush of adrenaline through you like a jolt, followed swiftly by something hotter low in your naval.

“Y’know, I’ve been thinking,” he begins, dropping your ankle. He lifts his knee and slots it between your legs, his opposite boot on the floor, his hand braced on the back of the couch, pinning you in place.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” you cut in dryly, moving to shift up the couch, away from him. He snatches your shoulder, halting you with ease. His thumb strokes your skin idly, goosebumps erupting beneath his touch.

“And I’ve realized that this whole… thing between you and I, this ‘will they, won’t they,’ ” he says, bobbing his head side to side. “It’s getting stale. Don’t you think it’s about time we progressed the plot?” He asks, leaning in close.

You brace your hand against his chest, holding him in place as ineffectually as you did earlier. You both know it’s all a game. It’s all pretense. There had been fondness between you once–love, even–but you’re done with that now. You have to be done with it, or Homelander will swallow you whole. He’s a black pit, a murderer, and his need knows no end. He’ll destroy you and everything you know and love if he thinks it’ll satiate that need.

You’ve lost enough. You can’t afford to lose any more of yourself to him.

“Jesus Christ, you even think in TV script,” you say, pushing on his chest. He leans back, but not by much. It sends a terrible little chill down your spine. “I’m starting to think the only thing that might actually kill you is an original thought.”

His eyes narrow and his bright white teeth flash predatorily in the darkness. “You’re lucky I haven’t broken your neck,” he says, hand slipping from your shoulder to your throat. The sharp press of his thumb into your windpipe steals your breath, makes your thighs tighten on either side of his leg snug between yours. His lips split into an unkind grin. “Or maybe not. You’d probably like that.”

“You’re disgusting,” you spit, gripping his wrist with your other hand. Your pulse is starting to throb against the leather of his glove. He moves his thumb from your windpipe to your jaw and turns your head away, leaning in with a deep, pointed inhale along your neck.

“Is that why your hormones are going haywire? Because I disgust you?” He asks, grinding his thigh between your legs in a way that makes you gasp. “Y’know, given how full of it you are, I was sure I’d smell the bullshit on you. But all I smell… is how fucking wet you are.”

He grabs your hip and the memories come to you like muscle memory. How good it feels to be gripped and fucked and loved by someone beyond your comprehension. To feel as if you’ve stopped the world turning and called the sun itself to shine on you alone.

You twist your chin out of his grip and level him with a heated stare. “I hate you,” you hiss, grasping for the knife you know will twist the deepest. 

It works for a second, his smug expression faltering, but only for an instant. His jaw sets, and his lips curl into that same unkind smile. “C’mon, babe,” he coos, the intimate familiarity woven into that pet name making your skin crawl. “We both know that I can always tell when you’re lying.”

He kisses you like he always has. Like you belong to him. In a way, you suppose you always will. There’s nothing you can do to pry your throat from Homelander’s jaws. Nowhere you can run that he won’t eventually find you. Like quicksand, the more you fight, the tighter he clamps down. Truth be told, though, that isn’t the worst of it. The worst of it is that the tighter he grips you, the less you want to fight him.

His tongue slithers into your mouth like a serpent into the garden and you bite down hard. While pliant between your teeth, the flesh doesn’t yield. It never will. He never will. Instead he moans a little chuckle that fades into a rumble against your lips.

“That how it’s gonna be?” He asks, the words rasped into your mouth. “Y’wanna bite and claw? Play hard to get?” He laughs, the sound of it reedy and light, like it’s all a silly little game of make-believe. “I can do that.”

He reeks of his own desperation for what he says to be true. More than anything, he wants to dress up his desires as yours. He wants to believe he’s giving you what you want. That way, he can trick himself into believing you need him.

He bites the middle tip of his glove and tugs it off with his teeth, tossing it aside. His bare thumb brushes your lip, smearing his spit and yours. “I saw you with that fucking loser,” he says, the airiness suddenly gone from his voice.

Your stomach drops. Two days ago you’d been with a man. You’d been so desperate to forget him that night that anyone would have done the job. You stumbled out with some nobody from the bar who’d been good enough for a sloppy makeout session in the back of his truck, but not good enough to bring home. It hadn’t ended well.

How close of an eye is Homelander keeping on you?

“I’d be angry if it hadn’t been so fuckin’ pathetic,” he says through his teeth.

“Liar,” you say tightly. You feel his fury in the tension of his body. He’s pissed that you’d seek this out anywhere else. As if he still has a claim over your body. Your pleasure.

His eyes flash up to yours. He sneers, pushing his thumb between your lips. “I watched you bite his lip until he bled. I watched him slap you,” he says, dragging the pad of his thumb along the ridges of your bottom teeth. The memories come to you as he speaks them, every moment of it made bleary by alcohol. “You wanted it rough, but he couldn’t handle you, could he? Because you’re used to something better. You’re used to a god.”

You sneer right back at him, yanking your head to the side, his thumb slipping from between your lips. “Could you be any more in love with yourself? Go fuck yours-”

“I still had to kill him, of course,” he continues nonchalantly, grinding your thoughts to a screeching halt. He laughs humorlessly. “For kissing you. And, well–for everything else, obviously. Slapping you,” he says, brushing his knuckles down your cheek. The same one the man had struck. “Humping your leg like a fucking dog.”

“Why are you doing this?” You ask, throat tight. Bile burns at the back of it. All you wanted was to get away from this. The blood, the horror of it. Yet no matter what you do to dissuade him, he brings death to your doorstep. “You have everything. You could have anyone. Why are you–”

“Because I want you,” he hisses, words so sharp his sharp teeth snap together. “Because I love you, and that’s what you do when you love someone,” he says. You can feel the accusation building in his words. “You don’t give up on them. And if that means cleaning up every dirty little mistake you make,” he says softly, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “So be it.” 

A cold shiver rolls down your spine. You stare woundedly at him, lips parted, brows pinched together, the misery of it all etched into every line of your face. He stares at you in turn, and after a beat, his own hard expression softens.

“Hey, hey,” he says, the heat of his breath a ghostly kiss on your lips. “It’s okay,” he says, brushing the tip of your nose with his. “I forgive you.”

He kisses you again, more tender now. Your eyes prickle with tears. His gentleness hurts so much more than his violence. It disarms you, carries you to a time when things were simpler between you. Sweeter and warmer. 

Homelander makes the world feel wonderful and dangerous, like standing in the middle of an electric storm. Being loved by him is the feeling of having your ribs cracked open, your heart cradled in his bare hands, possessive and bloody. What had been thrilling grew stifling, a feeling you realize now never truly went away.

He’s inescapable, literally and figuratively. Even when he isn’t inviting himself into your home or lurking in the periphery of your vision, Vought’s hero is plastered on every billboard and screen in the city. You haven't been able to breathe without inhaling the thick miasma of him.

Tears roll down to your temples as you kiss him back, both hands fisted in his soft hair, tugging. He makes a pleased little sound against your lips, teeth grazing your bottom lip. He’s always kissed like a man possessed–like every brush of your lips is a drop of salvation–but the hunger he’s developed since you tried to leave him is unparalleled. He kisses you like he means to devour you whole.

You bite back a sob, but the hiccuped noise of it catches his attention nonetheless. He breaks from you, looking down at you with a feverish mix of yearning, impatience and something that almost resembles pity, which might be the closest thing he knows to sympathy.

“Hey,” he coos, dusting your jaw with feather light kisses. “Don’t cry.”

“It’s awful,” you choke out.

“What is?”

“Your love.”

“I know,” he says after a prolonged pause. “It’s all I know.”

You look at him, the image of him bleary through your tears. There’s a morose resignation in his ocean-storm eyes, a distance that makes him seem far, far away from you, even as you taste the heat of his breath on your lips.

Focus returns to his gaze, and suddenly he’s present again. “It’s all I know,” he says again, his tone made of wood, stiff and splintering.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you lift your palm to his cheek, hovering just shy of touching. He’s pulled to it like a magnet, nuzzling into your palm, eyes closing. His hand slides down the familiar slopes of your body, settling at your hip, where his fingertips sink in like claws, the pressure of them shy. For as vicious as things have gotten between you, he’s never hurt you. A fact he lords over you as if he should be applauded for it.

I love you more than anything. You know that, right? That I would never do anything to hurt you? He’d asked you during that first fight. When everything went wrong. 

You’d only been able to nod then, trapped with a man you didn’t recognize wearing the face of the man you loved.

That’s right. Of course you do. Because if I wanted to hurt you, I would have. It would have been easy, huh?

Despite how desperately you’ve tried to fortify yourself against him, it’s still so easy.

Homelander is an aberration, but so too is he a man, and there was a time when the man was all that you saw. When the monster at the core of him reared its head, bloody and unrepentant, that became all you could see in him. Now, the two are so irrevocably tangled in the sinew of the other, you’re never sure which you’re looking at.

“I miss you,” you confess to the man in him, voice so soft only his ears possibly could have discerned the words. As if you can hide the words from the monster lurking behind if you speak them quietly enough. 

He looks as confused as your own aching heart. “I’m here,” he says, everything in his tone willing you to believe it. He doesn’t understand that you miss who he was before you knew what he was.

A mournful noise swells in your chest, but he kisses you before it can escape. “I’m here,” he says again, the hand at your hip turning into a fist in the fabric of your clothes, tearing them at the seams. “I’ll make you feel better,” he says between presses of his lips, hungry and rushing, like he can outspeed your miserable grief. “Let me make you feel good.”

Sex has always been an avenue of redemption for Homelander. Whether he’s frustrated, anxious, wounded or a combination of them all, he’s sought to remedy it through a good orgasm. He treats you as though the notion should hold true for you: the fight doesn’t count so long as he makes you come.

Yet again, you’re left stricken by him. As you have a dozen times before, all you can do is nod. Deep in your core, you know he’s right. He can make you forget this horrible ache in yourself, the grief and the fear. He can take you away to the dream you’d lived before you met the beast in his shadow. 

Coherent thought turns to water slipping between the cracks of your mind as Homelander’s bare fingers brush your inner thigh. You suck in a sharp breath that leaves you as a shudder and you clutch at his collar, twisting the fabric, unsure if you mean to push him away or pull him closer.

Homelander makes the choice for you, closing the distance and kissing you too gently, too sweetly. You spur him with your teeth, needing it faster, harder. Needing it to hurt just enough to not feel entirely right. He ignores your prompt, focused wholly on tasting you, on sliding his fingers up into the waiting warmth between your thighs. He presses the pad of his middle finger to your clit, deft and familiar.

You sigh, closing your eyes, ready to lose yourself to the feel of something good. He slides serpentine down your body, kissing you through your shirt, nipping at your skin through the fabric for the way it makes you jump. His lips trail down until they pass the hem of your shirt, finding where he’s stripped you. His mouth is unbearably warm, breath hot huffs on your bare skin, goosebumps erupting everywhere.

He mouths at your hip, sucks the skin dark before trailing further down, leaving a constellation with his lips. The scorching wet heat of his tongue feels like a brand on your clit, replacing his hand with his mouth. 

You thread your fingers into his hair, widening the spread of your legs to allow for the way he shoulders under and between them, lifting your lower half. He nuzzles into the nectary sweetness of you, moaning unabashedly for your familiar taste.

What do I taste like? You asked him once, drunk on pleasure and those early honeymoon days of loving him. Everything about him fascinated you; did his super smell lend itself to super taste? Could he pick out each note of you, dissect your profile into sections?

He’d been slow to answer, thinking it over.

Love, he said at last. Like you love me.

You wonder if that holds true. If he can still taste love in you, if that’s why he’s so eager to devour you, or if the absence of it has made him even hungrier. If he plunges his tongue to the core of you in the hopes he might discover lingering shreds of what the two of you once had.

A moan escapes you. His fingers bite into your thighs, tongue coaxing more. Restraint dissipating, you tighten your grip on his hair and tug, grinding hard against his mouth. He knows the stepping stones of your pleasure as well as you know yourself, knowing just when to suck, when to lick. He’s more relentless than any other man could hope to be, never needing to stop for breath, never succumbing to aching muscles. He maintains a pace that sends you careening so viciously towards release, you give a choking gasp when it hits you, your head thrown back against the couch as euphoric relief rolls through you in waves.

Homelander shrugs out from under your trembling thighs, his mouth slick and shining, eyes predator wide. You’re both panting, silently gauging the other. You’re first to break the standoff, his hunger infectious. You climb onto your knees and grab his shoulders, pushing his back to the couch, straddling him. He keens when you kiss him, an addictive sound that gives you a deceptive sense of power.

He murmurs your name in fervent repetition, dragging his mouth along your skin, inhaling you like a drug. You unbuckle his belt with the ease of experience, unzip his pants and slip your hand inside. Curling your fingers around his cock, you find it already hard and dripping in anticipation.

“Anything you want,” he breathes, the words coming between the prayer-like recitation of your name. “Money, diamonds, anything, I’ll make you a queen,” he says, eyelids fluttering at your touch. He pledges these things like an act of devotion, but you recognize this Faustian bargain for what it is. It will cost you your heart and soul.

“I’ll make you a god,” he moans at a particularly deft twist of your wrist.

Making you come will have to be enough for now.

“Fuck me,” you tell him breathlessly. “The way I like it.”

Like flipping a switch, the dazed pleasure in his eyes sharpens. The corners of his mouth tug, his upper lip twitches, eager tension slipping into his touch as his hands slide up your thighs, grasping your hips. His fingers sink in tight enough to bruise, despite the gentleness of his touch. The immeasurable power lurking within his unassuming frame is a novelty that never wears off, a thrill that shocks you to your core no matter how many times you experience it.

Like a vicious storm, he’s beautiful and terrible in equal measure. Caught in the eye of his maelstrom, the only thing left for you to do is weather him.

He guides you down onto his cock in one slow, agonizing pull. Even with his spit and your orgasm easing the way, it’s too much all at once. Relishing the aching burn of being split apart by him, you make a noise that gives him pause. You don’t let him stop. You brace your hands on his shoulders and lift off of him almost entirely before sinking back down deeper than you had before, wringing a moan from him in turn.

Homelander’s fingers dig securely into your back as your bodies slot together and find an old, familiar rhythm. By now he knows exactly the angle to take to best pleasure you. You let out a shaky sigh at the warmth that spreads through you, the pressure of your climax building, his heat sinking into you like the light of the sun itself.

You’re used to a god.

You cup his face and kiss him. You bite his lip until you should taste blood. You dig your nails into his skin so hard your knuckles ache. If he notices it, he’s only pleased by it.

“I’d move heaven and hell for you,” he swears between kisses, ripping the shirt from your body. The cool air hits your damp, hot skin like a shock. 

“I don’t want them,” you say, voice catching on one of his sharp and sudden thrusts. He’s close. You can feel it in the tightness of his muscles, in the erratic, merciless way he drives into you.

“Doesn’t matter,” he says, voice reedy, tight. He kisses down your chest, scrapes his teeth over the swell of your breasts. “They’re yours. It’s all yours. I’m yours.”

Those words should hit you like a prison sentence, but they don’t.

They make you come.

Homelander holds you tightly as he, too, breaks into pieces, filling you with light and heat. He chokes more promises against your skin, kisses the salt from your skin and licks it greedily from his lips. You spin in place in his arms, dizzy on your own orgasm, riding out the aftershocks with his cock throbbing against the quiver of your cunt.

For a long while there’s nothing but the sound of your breaths and the distant din of the television. The tremors wracking your body gradually fade, and the chill of the open air begins to set in.

Homelander holds you tight as the sweat on your skin cools. He kisses a trail from your neck to your shoulder, nuzzling there before he rests his head down, face tucked into the crook of your neck. You feel wrung dry, eyelids heavy. You card your fingers absently through his hair, body boneless against his. Your eyes ache from crying, but you don’t mind it. Strung out like this, the aches left in the wake of pain and pleasure both feel equally good.

“It’s late,” he says warmly, a smile in his tone. He sounds lovesick, the way you both did once upon a time. Back then, you thought you knew every dark corner of his insatiable heart. “We should sleep.”

“Okay,” you agree, voice frayed. He lifts you gingerly from his lap, adjusting to cradle your naked body to his chest. Despite how Homelander unspools himself before you, you’re always the one left reduced. Bare and vulnerable both physically and emotionally. You slip your arms around his neck as he stands, resting your head on his shoulder.

“I could take you to the tower,” he whispers, sending a chill down your spine. “My bed’s bigger.”

“No,” you say, remembering a door you cannot reach, no matter how many times you grasp for it, and the god’s hands that sent you spinning. He’s already so capable of turning your home into a prison. You’re not sure you’d ever escape his penthouse. “I want mine.”

Perhaps the most terrible fact of all is that Homelander is neither a god nor a monster. 

He is simply a man without limitation.

“Sure,” he says, kissing your cheek. The touch lingers, dripping with his adoration. “Anything you want.”

So long as it includes him.

[sunonyoreface]

He Knows - Simon “Ghost” Riley Pt. 14

An: Well, it only took 36,000 words to get here, but here we are! It's a long one and I had so much fun writing this part, so I hope you like it!

*Edit: I will be putting this series on a short pause for a few weeks so I have time to catch up on school. Thanks for understanding :)

Hi there, this is a series about Simon Riley from COD. This series does not follow any of the established plots or timelines from the games. While I use the names of some characters, they are different from the ones in COD.

Summary: You’re held captive by 141 for reasons unknown.

Word count: 6100

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader

Warnings: 18+, Smut, nsfw, angst, military setting, explicit language, graphic depictions of violence, use of guns.

Image credit: @ave661 (they're amazing!!)

I’ve never shot a gun before, but as I hold Ghost’s in my hand, I try to imagine what it will feel like.

The weapon is like solid lead in my hands. I weigh my options as I click the safety on and off. I feel like a broken scale and I’m indecisive at heart. Tonight is no different.

I twist the weapon around to get a better look at the black coating. It’s well taken care of. Everything Ghost does is so meticulous and thought out. So, to see him leave the cabin in such a haste is cause for concern on its own. Did my words really affect him that much? Or was that all his own doing?

Part of me wonders if he’s watching through the window. Does he think I’d risk attempting to shoot him? I could turn the gun around in my hand. He wouldn’t expect that. None of them would. But then neither of us would get what we want. I’d never see my family again. There’s no satisfaction in the thought.

I also know I couldn’t kill anyone else either. No matter the harm they’ve done. There’s already so much pain in the world. Who am I to add to it? Who am I to decide who gets to live or die? I’m no God.

Yet, I can’t help but wonder if the world would be better off without men like him.

So, I set the gun back down on the table. And then I pick it up again. I slide the magazine out and take each bullet. I slip them into my pillowcase. This is as much power as I take back tonight. Whatever Ghost does if or when he returns is all on him. I am staying as far from this game as possible. I never wanted any part. There are enough men dead because of me.

I sleep with the sound of bullets quietly rubbing and clinking against each other beneath my skull. When I feel his hand cold against my skin, I swear I see Death himself.

The ragged gasp for air feels like my first breath. My heart is racing. I feel the hot, meaty muscle as it climbs its way up my throat and suffocates me as it beats against my windpipe. Thump, thump, thump. My eyes immediately lock on the ominous shadow.

Ghost slowly retracts his hand. He smells like sweat and the outdoors. The cold scent lingers on his clothes and mixes with the smell of burning wood present in the cabin.

Moonlight filters in through the window and mixes with the warm glow of the fire. Between the two, I can just make out the watchful eyes behind the balaclava. He sits on the edge of the bed with both hands now resting on his thighs. I didn’t even feel the dip.

I sit up and pull my knees to my chest and away from him.

“How long were you there?” I don’t expect much of a response. I don’t know if I want one. Once I open this door, there are only so many places it can lead.

“A while,” Ghost’s voice is quiet and strained. He says he’s been here a while, yet his hands are still cold. Or maybe I just imagined they were cold. None of this feels real anymore, only my drumming heart demanding resolve. “Where are the bullets for my handgun?” his question catches me off guard. I didn’t think he’d notice so soon. Maybe he has been here a while? Maybe he already knows. I glance at the table to see the shadows of the weapons in the same spot as before, visibly untouched.

“I hid them,” I say without making eye contact. If I do, he’ll know for certain where they are. There’s something about him that’s almost angelic in the way he reads people. It’s utterly terrifying.

“Why?”

“I’m not sure anymore,”

“Y/n, you know I’m not going to shoot you,” It almost comes out like a question. I know, in theory at least. He can’t shoot me because he needs me, but does that mean he won’t?

Part of me knows he won’t because there are better ways to kill a person. Cleaner ways. More personal ways. They could make it look like an accident. 141 could erase me from existence - make it look like I was never born - if they haven’t already.

“Why are we doing this?” my voice is barely audible. His actions over the last day have left me feeling more confused than ever. First, he says it was all a part of his plan and now he’s saying it wasn’t. Deciphering the truth has become more frustrating than ever. 

“Could you recognize the men who did this to you?” I hear the strain in his voice again, like he’s holding back.

“I was blindfolded,”

“Their voices?”

I shake my head. “They all blend together,” A pent-up breath escapes my chest. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“It does,” he lowly urges. “Y/n, I need you to know what happened to you was unacceptable. That was never the plan. You were to be kept on a low dose of drugs for a limited amount of time, just enough to disorient you. What they did – those marks on your skin – should have never happened. Never,” He insists. I wrap my arms around my knees as he shifts closer. An anxious feeling creeps up the back of my neck. “I can’t punish them if I don’t know who they are.”

“I don’t want more people getting hurt because of me,” I finally look at him. He leans toward me with one hand resting on the bed. There’s a nervousness in the air. 

“Not because of you. Actions have consequences,” he says. “Their behaviour will be corrected.”

“Please don’t,” I quietly beg as I shift onto my knees. I take a risk and gingerly grab onto his forearm. “It’s not worth it,” I’m livid it happened in the first place, but their punishment is just spreading the pain around in my name. I don’t want that. I want it to end.

“If I don’t, it’ll happen again,” Ghost says as he looks down at my hand. His words are resolute. There’s a sinking feeling in my stomach. His strong arm is tense under the henley, but I don’t pull away.

“What about the man behind this one?” I reach to pull my shirt over my shoulder. His soulful eyes latch onto the bruised skin. Ghost’s chest heaves with a deep sigh. He knew this was coming.

“He needs more than just correction,” Ghost’s eyes are glued to the marks.

“Like what?” I risk the question. It’d be so easy for him to shut me out. To turn around and leave. But I need to know. What kind of a person is he? How does he perceive his own cruelty? I silently pray he stays. 

“Only Hell can help him,” Simon finally looks up. His eyes are filled to the brim with so many emotions, they’re hard to discern. But what stands out the most is how much pain is evident behind that mask.

“I don’t believe that,” I grip his arm tighter. Part of me is afraid of his answer. I don’t know the truth behind his words. I only have a small idea of the violence he’s capable of. I’ve only glanced through a crack in the window of pain he’s caused and even that was significant.

“You don’t know half the things I’ve done, y/n,” his hands tighten into fists. 

“I’ve cut, burned, fucking butchered people without a second thought. I kill men. It brings me so much pleasure to watch those animals die, y/n. I’m not someone who can live without violence,” Ghost starts to tremor. ”There are only so many places for a man like me.”

I shake my head. “I don’t…I don-”

“Believe it,” Ghost cuts me off. “Look at what I did to you,” he moves closer as his other hand reaches up to my exposed arm. Ghost’s fingers lightly trace the bruises. His hands are hot, different from how I remembered them moments ago. There’s a warmth to him, even if he refuses to acknowledge it. Part of me wants to make excuses for him: that it was the heat of the moment, or because I knowingly withheld information that put us all at risk. That doesn’t make it okay. None of this is okay. My moral lines have become so blurred within the last several weeks, it’s hard to know when they’ve been crossed.

I don’t know what to say to him. I focus on the feeling of his gentle fingers on my arm.

“It was the only thing that fixed my father,” His voice deepens. I’m not prepared for where this conversation is about to go. I feel my heart racing in my chest, ready to break free. “I used to hate him for the things he did, how he’d hurt my brother and mum. Fuck, would he hurt her. He hated her and took every ounce of hate out on that woman. He left her beaten and bruised for years,” Ghost wraps his hand around my arm, under the dark bruise. “And look at me now. Look what I’ve done to you. You don’t deserve this.”

My throat tightens and I feel tears prick at my eyes. I tilt my head back and force them down. I feel his careful gaze follow down my neck, across my collarbones, then land on the damning marks above his fingers.

“You’re better than he is, Simon,” it’s barely a whisper.

“You don’t know me,” Ghost’s voice cracks.

“Maybe not. But you’re here right now. And that tells me all I need to know,” our eyes lock together. I see the distress behind his mask. How he so badly wants to believe me. “Simon, I forgive you.”

“You shouldn’t. You don’t know how this ends, y/n,” he murmurs. I shift closer to him again so that our legs rest against each other. His breathing deepens at our proximity. His hand leaves my arm to wrap around a strand of hair. He examines it quietly, his thumb slowly tracing the length.

I feel the heat and tension radiating from his body, yet find myself strangely at ease in his presence. He cares. He won’t dare say it, but I can feel it in his gentle touches, the way he looks at me when he thinks I’m not paying attention. He had my back when his men were making crude jokes in the van. I think of his concern for me when we were at the last safehouse and I didn’t have shoes. How he lingered to make sure I was okay. How he gave me an extra blanket and touched my shoulders when everyone else was sleeping. I remember when he immediately noticed something was off after the prisoner confronted me. The first thing he did was make sure I was okay. He’s always cared.

My heart still races, but not because I’m scared. My fear has morphed into a more dangerous emotion. One I can’t say out loud. One that would put both of our lives in danger.

When I look into his dark eyes, I see them mirroring my own. Shadowy pools of desire lap at his irises.

“Y/n,” he warns as I look up at him. His eyes flicker down to my bottom lip brawn between my teeth.

“Can I lift your mask?” his head starts to shake even before I’ve finished speaking. “Just a little,” my voice is barely audible. The warm glow of the fire bounces off the walls. Ghost is tinted red. He tilts his head down, searching my eyes. Part of him is still reluctant to trust me. There have been so many people in his life who’ve betrayed him, who’s to say I won’t do the same?

“Ok,” he whispers, dropping the strand of hair.

My hands meet the hem of the balaclava, resting just above his sternum. I slowly roll the fabric up, leaving time for him to stop me. This is the first time he’s ever allowed another person to do this. I feel his vulnerability with each shaky breath. The backs of my fingers trace along his neck as I move the fabric. The scruff that lines his neck and jaw brush against my hands. His adam’s apple bobs as he forces down a nervous swallow. “Just a little more.”

I move the mask just above his jaw. Like the rest of him, it’s sharp and strong. Dark hairs fill in the space after missing his daily shave. Ghost’s hands move to my outer thighs and his thumbs rub along my skin with a reassuring pressure. I bring the mask over his lips and rest the excess material over his nose. Ghost presses his full, slightly chapped lips together as he watches my eyes roam his face.

Part of me wonders why hasn’t he stopped me. Does he yearn for the same type of connection? Does he think about me in the dead of night with wandering hands? Is this something we’ll use against each other in the future? Will there be a future? All of this is a bad idea. But I can’t help the longing. The yearning. How badly I want to feel his hands on my bare skin. Tangled in my hair. Reaching the darkest parts of me.

When I look up, his eyes are so incredibly intense, it’s impossible to look away. A large hand cups my cheek and wraps around the back of my head. Neither of us dares to move any further. We stay frozen in a state of almost vulnerability. It’s not too late to turn back.

It’s hard to see where his irises end and pupils begin, they’re so dark. His eyes hold every word he’s too afraid to say. Words are dangerous. They confirm every want and desire. I’m no braver than he is, not by a mile. I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from saying something I’ll regret.

Ghost leans down and rests his masked forehead against mine. The soft fabric presses into my face. His nose tenderly brushes against my own.

“Y/n,” he murmurs as his thumb tenderly traces along my skin. “You have no idea the things you do to me,” I feel goosebumps run down my back at his low, sultry voice. Simon’s cool breath fans against the nape of my neck.

The air between us is charged with tension. I feel a heat start to burn low in my stomach.

Ghost doesn’t move any closer. He has aired his desires. Now it’s my turn. How far do I want this to go? How far am I willing to take it? Nothing happens unless I initiate.

I run my hand along his strong jaw as I lean forward. I hesitantly brush against his lips, providing one last opportunity for us to turn back. Simon ghosts his lips above my own. My muscles tense in anticipation and my breathing is fast and shallow. I loop a finger through his belt loop and pull him closer. 

Ghost takes this as permission and gently presses his lips onto mine. The kiss is soft and fearful and longing. After a breath, I pull away ever so slightly to read his eyes. They open slowly and linger on my lips for a moment longer. Ghost swallows thickly before looking up. There’s an insatiable hunger swimming in those dark pools of desire.

I long for those hot August days spent on the poolside almost as much as I long for him to drag me under the surface. I feel Ghost’s calloused hands moving up the side of my body like waves. Shivers run along my spine. My senses feel heightened. My lungs burn as icy water floods every cavity. I want him to hold me under until every breath of air is stolen from my lips.

Ghost shifts onto his knees and slowly stalks above me. His moves are calculated and predatory. There is only one thing he is on the hunt for. Only one thing that can fully satisfy his appetite.

I lean back as he moves closer until I’m fully pressed against the bed. Ghost leans down on his elbows as his knee urges my legs apart. A dull pulse throbs in my lower stomach. A large hand brushes the hair out of my face as he leans closer.

The kiss is harder this time, needier. Simon’s breath is hot against my mouth. My lungs smoulder with each breath, threatening to burst into flames. I run my hand under the back of his mask into his hair. I want more of him.

“Sweetheart,” my heart skips at the name. “How far can I take this?” his hands cup the side of my face. There’s a different type of seriousness in his eyes that I haven’t seen before.

“All the way,” I watch as he licks his lips in anticipation. “I want all of you.”

“No,” he shakes his head. “I have to be gentle with you,” but I don’t want him to be gentle. I want every pent-up emotion branded into my skin with an iron rod. He’s held back so much from me. I want everything out in the open.

“All of you,” I repeat, brushing my thumb against his jaw.

“Y/n,” he warns as his lips brush against my ear. There’s an exciting sharpness to his tone.

“Don’t hide from me,” I whisper.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he holds his head up to search my face. There’s genuine fear behind his eyes, but as they flicker down at my lips again there’s an even stronger desire. Once he starts, he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to stop. Every part of his life is so disciplined, that once he relinquishes control, all self-restraint is gone.

“I trust you,” I trace my thumb above his full lips, pausing in the center. His brows furrow, waiting for me to take my words back, change my mind, tell him I don’t mean it. But I do. “I trust you, Simon.”

He uses the last of his restraint to search my eyes one last time. There’s no uncertainty, no fear or hesitancy. I want all of him. Need all of him. Desire burns within my core and he is the only one who can satisfy it. 

His lips are hot and fervorous. Ghost’s eager fingertips drag across my pliable flesh as his hands skim under the hem of my shirt. I want to feel his touch everywhere, my lips, my neck, arms, and chest. I need him everywhere. I want to be consumed by him.

His sweet tongue slips between my lips. It’s a natural motion I welcome with my own. He’s gentle at first, cautious even. But then the hunger grabs a hold of him. His teeth latch onto my bottom lip and pull. Dark eyes test the waters as he gauges my reaction. How far can he really go? A small gasp escapes my chest and I almost miss the corner of his mouth twitching into a devious grin. 

“When I tell you to do something, say yes sir,” his husky voice whispers into my ear as a large hand lightly wraps around my throat.

“Okay,” I respond. He’s not the only one testing the waters. I feel the strong hand tighten ever so slightly. I can’t help a sly smile at his reaction. “Yes sir,” the words noticeably arouse him. Ghost draws in a deep breath as he drags his bottom lip between his teeth. I think of all the times I offhandedly called him that the last several weeks. I wish I knew what a hold it had on him. “Is that better, sir?” I tease.

“You’re trouble,” his tone is suggestive. I love the feeling of his hot breath hitting my neck. I want to feel it drift even lower.

Ghost’s hands are back at the hem of my shirt. He gently tugs at the fabric and I take the signal to sit up and slide it off. I toss it to the side as his eyes take in my figure. I notice how they falter on some of the larger bruises, but in another instant, they’re back on me.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he murmurs.

His rough hands travel up my torso - taking care to avoid the bruised areas - as his lips find my neck. He starts off slow, deeply kissing me behind the ear, before moving towards the nape as he begins to suck on my tender skin. One hand begins to tenderly massage my breasts. I feel my eyes flutter shut with pleasure, but then a small part of me remembers I don’t want marks left above the hem of my shirt, especially these kinds of marks.

“Your turn,” I tug on the bottom of his henley.

“That’s not how you ask,” he mumbles as his teeth rake against my skin.

“Please, sir?” he thoughtfully hums against my neck.

Ghost sits up as he straddles me to pull his shirt off with one hand. My breathing hitches. He is stunning. Years of relentless work have shaped him into the machine he is today. Ghost is built like a predator. Strong, sturdy, and sharp. Scars from past challengers and victims litter his chest like medals. His tattoo wraps around the entire length of his arm, around his shoulder, and spanning across half his chest. I’m left speechless as he leans down to meet me again.

My hands unapologetically travel across his vast chest. His muscles flex under the pads of my fingers and I’m reminded of just how strong he is. But I don’t get far, Ghost grabs both wrists with one hand and pins them above my head. He enjoys looking down at me, completely under his power. There’s something about our size difference that is thrilling. He is in complete control. He can do whatever he wants.

Ghost’s lips return where they left off, slowly moving down my delicate body. Past my neck, down my sternum, and right to the spot he is looking forward to the most. His other hand wraps around my back, finding the clasp to my bra. His eyes peer up through his mask, looking to me for permission to keep going. I give him a small nod and immediately I feel the release of the band. He slides the bra up my arms, letting go of my wrists only to free us of it once and for all before grabbing them again. Ghost’s other hand returns to my back, urging me to arch my chest to his lips.

Sharp teeth nip at my soft breasts between deep kisses that are certain to leave more bruises. Ghost adds more pressure to my back as he pushes me closer. He takes his tantalizing time teasing me with his tongue as it swirls around my nipple before the abrupt feeling of his teeth pulling on my skin takes over. I can’t help the gasp that escapes my lips. I press my lips together to hide my heavy breathing, but it doesn’t get past him.

“Let me hear you, sweetheart,” he tastes the tender skin. “No one around for miles.”

Both his hands wrap around my waist as he pulls me flush against his chest. I take the opportunity to run a hand along the waistband of his pants, slipping a finger just under the edge of the fabric. Ghost pauses as his chest heaves from the movement. I grab his jaw and guide his lips to mine again, mimicking his previous movements by tugging on his lower lip with my teeth. I can’t help the growing smile on my face.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, sweetheart,” his hand trails down my stomach, slipping between my pants and underwear. Two thick fingers circle around me above the thin piece of fabric with growing pressure. My head sinks back into the pillow as my breathing becomes more jagged. Sparks fill my vision from the intense pressure. 

“Oh fuck,” I whimper from his touch. His eyes are intent on my face as they watch the pleasure wash over me.

“That’s a good girl,” he says eagerly. “Wet for me already?”

My thoughts are too twisted to come up with a smart response. I press harder against him for more traction. If only he knew how much I’ve thought about his hands and all the things his fingers can do.

While slipping a hand under the fabric, he leans down letting his lips press against my neck. Our bare chests brush against each other and his other hand winds through my hair. Ghost fists the strands against the back of my head and slowly pulls back, further exposing my neck for better access. I feel the edge of his teeth take my tender flesh between them. I imagine the marks that will litter down my neck leading across my chest.

A thick finger slips into me while his thumb focuses on my clit. The feeling is so intense I can’t help the moans escaping from deep within my throat. Ghost pulls harder on my hair. A deep chuckle reverberates through his chest. He’s enjoying this. 

I wrap a hand around his belt, pushing the leather through the loop, ready to pull it off, but then a large hand clasps over mine.

“So soon?” Ghost teases. The intense pressure of his other hand leaves between my legs as he slides his belt off. The buckle jingles as he twists the leather into itself. When I look down, I realize what he’s created.

There are two spaces for a set of hands to slide through while the belt acts as a pair of handcuffs.

“Simon,” his name is breathy on my tongue.

“Arms up,” he orders.

I raise my hands above my head and feel the leather restraints slip over my fists. “Not tight,” I tell him. His eyes glance down at me and he seems to understand. He pulls the leather band, leaving just enough space that I could escape if I really needed to, before looping the leather back through the buckle.

“Okay?” he whispers and I nod my head in response. “Atta girl,” the side of his mouth quirks up.

I watch Simon trail his thoughtful lips down my torso. He pauses at each bruise, pressing a tender kiss lightly on top of each one. Butterflies swarm inside my stomach. I never thought I’d see such a man be so gentle.

Simon’s thumbs rub in circles over the corner of my hips as he makes his way even lower. There’s a growing anticipation between my legs as I wrap one around his back, pulling him closer.

The black mask lowers between my legs. Swollen lips kiss the inside of my thighs. The edge of his teeth grazes the tender flesh. I draw in a sharp gasp as he bites down. Hard. A full pain throbs along my inner thighs. His previous gentleness slips away. This will leave a bruise lasting for days.

“These are the only marks I want to see on your skin,” his passionate eyes look up from between my legs. The black balaclava covers the rest of his face aside from his lips. How I’d love to run my hands through his hair.

Simon’s arms wrap around my legs to hold me down by my hips. I grasp the belt with whitened knuckles as he moves up, leaving another mark, but not before pressing an apologetic kiss to the area. Small whimpers escape my tight throat as he switches legs and leaves a growing trail of marks closer and closer to the hem of my underwear. I want him to make me feel good again.

“Please Simon,” I feel his lips humorously twitch against my skin.

He pulls away and all of his delicious warmth leaves with him. Simon rests on his knees, his eyes hungrily taking in the sight before him. All I can think about is the heat of his hands as they travel over my skin. Fuck, I need him. I need him everywhere. In the darkest parts of my body and soul.

A rough thumb traces over my lips. “You still want this?” there’s doubt in his voice, like he’s expecting me to change my mind.

“So, fucking bad,” my lips move against his thumb. I take him in my mouth, swirling my tongue around the thick digit, lightly starting to suck on him.

“Fuck, y/n,” he mutters under his breath. His other hand slides beneath his jeans as I press my mouth further down on his thumb. But I don’t let him relish in the feeling.

“I need you, Simon,” I murmur. “Please, sir,” my voice is breathy and desperate.

I can feel the need pooling between my thighs. I ache for his touch.

His hands light my skin on fire as he slips my underwear off, pulling them down my legs. Simon wastes no time stepping out of his jeans, his large erection straining against his boxers.

“Of all thing things I’ve wanted to do to you,” he cups himself over the fabric. I wait for him to expand on his thoughts, but he doesn’t, simply leaving them to hang in the thick air.

Simon grasps himself over his boxes, slowly stroking as he watches me. My eyes never leave his. I feel the growing heat of the fire burning within me. With every stroke, he stokes the flames.

He leans down, lips hovering above mine. One hand gently holds my cheek while the other wraps around his tip. “Tell me if it’s too much,” he breathes into my mouth before tenderly meeting my lips. A small vein of nervousness is present at the back of my mind, but I channel all of my attention into my growing desire.

Simon adjusts his position as the boxers slide down. The anticipation is too much. He bites his bottom lip as the head of his cock traces my entrance. My heart is pounding. My hands grasp at the belt.

“Relax,” he glances up at me. “You’re tense.”

A gentle hand massages my inner thighs along the bite marks he left. The length of his shaft glides across my clit, sending tingles up my spine.

“Simon-”

“Look at me y/n. I want to see your face when I stretch you out,” my breathing falters at his words. I dare to look him in the eyes just as he pushes in for the first time. Fucking hell.  The feeling is completely unmatched. My breathing is heavy. Simon’s thumbs rub reassuring circles along my inner thighs to ease the sensation between my legs.

“Oh God,” I whimper, tensing around his thick tip. His eyes hungrily watch my expression, burning it to memory. The amount of pleasure he gets from watching is almost equal to that of participating. Simon’s fingers circle my clit with a heavy pressure. I feel the throbbing intensify as he begins to push deeper. I hold back a whimper as he pushes deeper, stretching my tight walls around him.

“Fuck, y/n,” he growls. “You’re doing so good.”

Simon gently moves back before thrusting further in. My walls pulse around his thick cock as he picks up pace. My legs are wrapped around his broad back. One of his hands roughly kneads a breast as he bows his head into the nape of my neck. The metal dog tags hanging around his throat swing in the space between us, bouncing against my skin.

Simon’s breath is hot as it travels down my neck and across my chest. With every clench around him, I’m rewarded with soft needy moans into my ear as he nips at my lobes.

“You’re doing that on purpose,” his breathy voice rumbles against my neck. I feel the tightness in my stomach begin to build as he thrusts harder and his hands press into my clit. The world around me blurs. I’ve never been fucked this hard before. He feels so damn good; it’s like he was made just for me.

His hand drags across my breast, up to my neck as he wraps his strong fingers around the vulnerable area. I should’ve known he wants complete control. For so long he had none, now it rules every aspect of his life.

“You take me so well, y/n,” my name drips sweetly off his tongue like honey. I want to hear him say it over and over again. y/n. y/n. y/n. Fuck, does that sound good.

Every muscle in my body begins to tighten. My breathing quickens. My heart is racing. Every sense feels incredibly heightened. A lucid feeling begins to take over as Ghost’s grip around my throat tightens.

“Don’t go quiet on me now,” his hand moves to my jaw.

“I’m close,” I gasp as the blood rushes back to my face. My cheeks feel hot under his intense gaze. “Simon I-” his name rolls off my tongue, but I lose track of my thoughts. With every thrust, I feel him deeper in my soul. All of the pain. All of the tortures of our diverged pasts are melding together. Right now, I have all of him.

Simon keeps his pace but thrusts his throbbing cock even harder. The sound of skin hitting skin overtakes the crackling fire. The heat is almost too much. Like a flame under a tank of propane. Pressure builds under the heat, ready to combust.

“I, I-” fuck, I can’t think. It’s too much. His hands are tightly woven into my skin. My fingers are white against the leather. My heartbeat is so damn loud. My face twists towards the covers as my body writhes under his touch.

“Don’t look away now sweetheart,” his voice is so incredibly thick with need. “I’ll stop if you look away,”

His dark eyes are a whirlpool pulling me in. Suddenly I forget how to swim. Simon drags me under as his thick fingers wrap around the sensitive bundle of nerves. I gasp as my lungs breathe in water. His lips are heavy against my own. My vision darkens and no other pleasure in the world can match the burning sensations coursing through my veins. My orgasm is the sun’s light from the bottom of the ocean.

I break the surface as Simon’s hot lips hastily press against my forehead. His movements quicken and his grunts deepen. His hands roughly grab onto my waist as he thrusts into me with uneven, jarring movements.

“Fuck, Simon,” the whimper is soft against his skin and the cause of his undoing. His hard cock throbs against my walls once more as he collapses against me from pleasure and exhaustion. Simon’s heavy body lays limp on top of mine. The weight is comforting and safe. No one else in the world can touch me. Only him.

Simon reaches up to undo the belt and free my hands which find their way to his broad back. I trace invisible pictures across the vast space, skimming across old scars and the edge of his tattoo. His hand gently runs down the length of my hair, petting the top of my head. I feel my eyes begin to droop as sleep creeps up from behind me. I want him to hold me forever.

He pushes himself up on his elbows, arms caging me in as his dark eyes peer down at me. The emotions behind Simon’s eyes are too conflicted to decipher. A cautious thumb brushes along the side of my face. For a moment, he simply stares at me, trying to memorize everything that’s just happened and the gravity of it.

“Y/n, I need you to listen very closely,” he murmurs, pulling the balaclava back over his jaw. I feel my brows furrow as a different type of tension takes over.

“Okay,” my voice is barely audible.

“No one can ever know about this,” Ghost’s tone is soft, but I don’t miss the significance that is present. I pause to think about his words. Really think about them. What are the consequences of what we’ve just done? Our actions have just irreversibly complicated 141’s entire mission. Possibly even damaged it.

“What happens if they find out?”

Simon doesn’t respond. I feel a growing, hollow, cavity within me as I consider what happens to the people who interfere with their missions.

This was a mistake. A consequential mistake.

Pt 15:

[candyskiez]

Could you please tell us everything about Night in the Woods I am so intrigued to hear all your thoughts about it (<- have never played the game but eh I don't care about any spoilers)

I NEVER TALKED ABOUT THIS? FUCK.

OKAY. OKAY. NIGHT IN THE WOODS.

It's a game about capitalism, first and foremost. Like I mean It Is A Game About Capitalism. Pretty much every main conflict is in some way influenced by it. Specifically about how capitalism affects your mental health and relationships and how it's almost impossible to exist as a mentally ill person under capitalism.

The protagonist, Mae, has severe mental health issues. She hallucinates, she has mood swings, we don't know what she specifically has but it's very Real and the slow build up to showing it was very well done imo. It wasn't a plot twist it was the slow realization that she'd had these issues for so long and gotten zero help for it, and how all these little things had contributed to it. She's always fucking up relationships, she has anger issues, she feels Unlovable and like everyone hates her and sometimes maybe she hates everyone too, it's all a massive fucking mess and she has no idea how to fix it and she feels so goddamn broken. She dropped out of college because the hallucinations and breakdowns got so intense she could hardly leave her room, and when she came back there was so much judgement about dropping out and. It hurts, man! It really hurts! Her parents made her feel like she'd failed them, Bea felt like she just threw away her ticket out of this town, Agnus worried she was a bad influence on Gregg- even though these people were pretty good they're not immune to taking shit out on each other under the stress of working to stay alive. It's so messy and so realistic. It's all about how capitalism only benefits those on top and shreds the mental health of everyone being exploited by it, whether you have a job or not. There is no winning at capitalism. Dan is always looking for jobs and always getting fired. Bea is miserable at her job. Agnus and Gregg are working seven days a week and they're still tight on money.

And Casey couldn't get a job. We don't know why. And we don't know why because a cult killed him for not being Productive. They said nobody would miss him. One of the first things Mae does in the game is miss him. His parents put up posters. The missing poster is one of the first things you see in the game. "Nobody would miss him" because he didn't Contribute. We barely know anything about him, just that he apparently meant the world to so many characters in the game. Gregg was willing to kill a man when he learned Casey was dead. And they thought nobody would miss him because he wasn't Useful. And we will never know Casey's story because a bunch of bigoted assholes decided his life wasn't worth anything.

But the game is also about community. How capitalism tries to kill it and also how community is the only way to survive it and to maybe fix things. The only reason Mae survived is because she had a community. The reason Casey didn't survive is because he didn't have one. It's about how even though Mae cannot keep a job right now, she still has a place in her community because she exists. She still deserves a place in it, no matter how "Difficult" she is. It's about how Mae feels isolated and like the world is just dead and there's nothing left in it for her, but there are so many people who are alive in that community. There are so many people who see her and who like seeing her run by and who care about her. It's about the fact that the people who try to isolate her from her community because of her breakdown as a kid are actually kind of fucked up! And it's about the fact that community is what saves them. Bea runs off and almost gets herself in massive danger, but Mae runs after her. Even after all the messy shit between them, Mae runs after her. Even though Mae has messed shit up with them so many times, her friends love her. And when she says "I need to do this alone" they actively refuse to let her! They refuse to let her pull the main character card and follow her into danger because that's their friend! She tells them this is all her fault and they don't even humor her for a second. Because she is part of their community and nothing is going to change that.

And just. Oh my god the Scene where Mae confronts....whatever the thing in the mine is. Cosmic horror, hallucination, metaphor for her own inner Shit, whatever you wanna call it. She goes on about how she's always had this in her head. She has always felt disconnected from the world. She's always known shit was unfair and there's always been people having insane systems to hurt people and everything has always been like this. And she has always had these issues. She's always been too angry. She's always been volatile. She's always had periods where her brain works against her. And she just screams at what she thinks is a god that she gets it. She will always have these feelings. She will never stop being wired like this. And whether or not that's fair doesn't matter. But she wants it all to matter. And she is GOING to make it matter. She isn't going to die here. She isn't going to let herself die, and she isn't going to sacrifice herself, and she won't let any random Thing she sees control her choices. She is going to LIVE. She wants her death to hurt. She wants to go down fighting, and she will. No matter what this thing is, she does not fucking care. She can't even understand it. Why should she care about something that doesn't care about her? In that scene I mentioned before, "God" told her it didn't care. It had no reason to care. So why should she look for validation from something that had no reason to give it to her? Why should she let something that wasn't even in this world determine her worth and whether or not her life matters? She decides right then and there that her life matters, and that she will make it matter, and she wants to hope again. She wants to be happy again. And she won't take no from something that doesn't even care and didn't have a reason to. And she lives.

I fucking love this game.

[icedragonlizard]

Magolor headcanons

Another post for my "series" of tumblr posts going over general headcanons for singular characters of the Kirby series!

Magolor is another Kirby character that I have a lot of headcanons for. Allow me to get started on going over them!

He's also fun to make a lot of headcanons for! I'll put a 'Keep reading' tag because it'll be another long one. As always, everything that is underneath the keep reading tag is purely my headcanons.

When Magolor first excavated and repaired the Lor Starcutter in Halcandra, he then used it to take a fun cruise around outer space. That was his first time piloting the Lor after he fixed it.

During his cruise around outer space, he found a certain jester helplessly floating around as a result of getting blasted into a clockwork star. This is, of course, Marx. Upon encountering him, Magolor felt bad, so he decided to take Marx in and recover him, and become his friend in the process.

Marx then shared vital information to Magolor that eventually led to RTDL's events taking place. He disclosed about his incident with Kirby that almost got him killed. This gave Magolor the grand idea to plot a betrayal against Kirby, like Marx before him. He planned in having this betrayal give him the opportunity to finally get his hands on the Master Crown and attempt universal conquest.

He's wanted the Master Crown for a long time, but he was previously incapable of acquiring it, since he couldn't defeat Landia in a fight. But ever since he took the Lor on a cosmic cruise and found Marx, and learned about Kirby's existence thanks to Marx, this had given Magolor high hopes of finally getting the Master Crown by using Kirby and co to defeat Landia as his way of obtaining it.

Now that I'm done going over my pre-RTDL headcanons for Magolor, let's get into all the headcanons that take place after the game!

Magolor got his act together after spending five miserable months in Another Dimension. As he finally left that horrible, twisted dimension, he spent a couple of years in the Dream Kingdom to obtain enough capital to start his dream of building an amusement park in Planet Popstar. This would be his apology to Kirby and co, as he wanted to reconcile and sincerely become their friend after what happened.

Although he interacted nicely with some residents in the Dream Kingdom, he didn't really care enough to make any actual friends during his time there. He didn't intend to stay there for too long. He did, however, say his goodbyes to them as he left.

After leaving the Dream Kingdom, he did a few things before making his grand return to Planet Popstar:

First, he temporarily returned to Halcandra to apologize and reconcile with Landia, and then fix the broken Lor Starcutter.

The dragon was rather skeptical at first, but forgives as it eventually realized that Magolor was sorry. The two don't actually become true friends, but they've been at peaceful terms with each other since. That being said, Landia did make the decision to show up at Popstar one time to check out Magolor's amusement park when it heard about the park's opening! This headcanon is to help explain why Landia makes an appearance in Merry Magoland.

Magolor then worked in getting the Lor Starcutter back together in Halcandra. Thankfully, all the energy spheres were in the planet, and he was able to achieve them all, with Landia's help on some of them.

When he got the Lor back up and running, and bid a farewell to Landia as he left Halcandra, he did one more thing before returning to Popstar: find Marx and break the news to him.

Magolor met Marx again after a long time, and broke the news on everything that happened since they last saw each other. After breaking the news, Magolor then let Marx know about his plan to go back to Popstar to reconcile with Kirby and co, and attempted to encourage the jester to do the same. However, Marx stubbornly refused to do so at first, very much to Magolor's disappointment.

But nevertheless, Magolor still stuck to his decision to make up with Kirby and the others, as he still really wanted to do so. And to his joy, Marx eventually went ahead to also make his reconciliation with Kirby some time after Magolor did his, but not before the two tricksters had strife with each other over this when Marx hadn't relented yet.

When Magolor finally returned to Popstar and made his grand apology, he was very quickly forgiven by Kirby and King Dedede. Meta Knight was quite skeptical at first, but eventually also forgave Magolor, although he definitely needed some time before he did so. That's 3/4 of the dream team that forgave him.

However... the fourth member of the dream team hasn't, and to this day, still doesn't forgive Magolor. Bandana Waddle Dee still holds a grudge against him. This is elaborated more on my post talking about how Bandee is a big hater and still has very angry feelings about most of Kirby's friends that used to be villains.

But despite not getting forgiveness from Bandee, that didn't stop Magolor from being allowed to make Popstar his new home planet. That's exactly what he did as he made his grand return, as he got himself situated at somewhere out in Dream Land as his home area. Where he lives is on an outer edge of Dream Land that can see Orange Ocean from a distance. It's also where the Lor Starcutter will be sitting around for the majority of the time from here on out.

Even though Magolor announced that he'll build an amusement park after making his apology to the dream team, he didn't immediately start doing it. He lives in Popstar for several years until he finally gets around to start building his park. During that time frame, he gets to know Kirby's other friends, including ones that are also ex-villains. Over the years, he makes many friends.

His four closest friends are Kirby, Marx, Taranza and Susie. I've made earlier tumblr posts on how he interacts with Marx as well as how he interacts with his Taranza and Susie. So go check those out if you'd like, as I won't repeat his entire dynamics with them in here.

Post-RTDL, Magolor can be considered a 'big brother' friend to Kirby. In fact, as soon as he made his apology, Kirby gave him a hug as he was glad to see that he was alright, and that hug turned out to be well-deserved considering Magolor's efforts in getting to that point.

It delights Magolor every time Kirby comes to visit him at his home. One of his favorite things to do with Kirby is make him laugh. Overall, though, he wants to keep making the little guy proud. As he considers Kirby to be very special, he's highly honored to now be friends with him, and doesn't want to ruin that again.

Now going past Magolor's four closest friends, he has many other friends that he's also often silly with.

King Dedede has taken a large liking to Magolor while warming up to him post-RTDL. These two often engage in funny talk, and sometimes even impersonate each other's voices just to mess with each other. Every so often, Magolor may also come around Dedede's castle to pull a prank or two. When Merry Magoland became open, Dedede found lots of amusement with the dress-up masks, as he and Magolor often impersonate others' voices when wearing masks.

It took Meta Knight some time to forgive Magolor. Initially, he was quite pissed off for a while, since that betrayal hit pretty hard for him. But as Meta Knight experiences Magolor more and more post-RTDL, knowing that a betrayal won't happen again, he does genuinely warm up to him. At one point, he fully accepts him as a friend.

There was one time where Magolor was even invited to the Halberd, and he was more than capable of making Meta Knight's crew laugh. The Halberd crew really likes him! Meta Knight is also very much amused by him sometimes as well. There may be occasions where he finds Magolor a bit annoying, but he's pretty good with him now. Magolor really likes Meta Knight and thinks he's a total badass.

Magolor is good friends with the mage sisters. He loves messing around with them, as well as talking about ancient technology with them. Of the three, Flamberge is the one he's closest friends with, as he likes how bombastic she is compared to the others.

He lovably has nicknames for all three of them. His nickname for Zan Partizanne is 'Zan Parmesan Cheese', he calls Flamberge 'Flamburger' and he calls Francisca 'Friendcisca'. When referring to the trio as a whole, he calls them the 'traffic-light trio girls'.

Daroach is another one that Magolor is pretty good friends with. These two have a particular thing going on where they love to steal from each other. There's definitely some irritation during this, but they both think it's really fun and enriching to commit robbery on each other. They'll often be like "DAMN! How'd he get me this time?"

Magolor and Daroach admire each other's slyness as they steal from each other. Even when they aren't stealing from each other, they sometimes hang out as well. They've got a similar sense of humor and will often tell each other jokes. They can also sometimes form a trio with Marx, where all three of them commit tomfoolery together.

Gooey really likes Magolor, and vice versa. Magolor enjoys making Gooey laugh, and like with Kirby, he's also delighted whenever the little dark matter defect comes to visit him. He'll often pat Gooey on the head like the good boy he is. There are times Magolor will trick Gooey into doing funny things in the light-hearted sense, and of course the blue blob doesn't mind it when that happens!

Adeleine, Ribbon and the animal friends are all on decent terms with Magolor as well. Rick and Kine in particular quite like him, as they'll often engage in funny talk with him when he encounters them. Magolor may sometimes hype Kine up as some wholesome fish that can kick some major ass, which of course makes Kine laugh.

Dark Meta Knight is... someone that doesn't get along with Magolor. Magolor tried to be his friend at first, but it didn't exactly work out as DMK wasn't really interested in being his friend. DMK thinks that he's just some obnoxious attention-seeking weirdo he'd rather not have anything to do with. Whoops...

Magolor and Elfilin are... sort of on neutral terms with each other. At first, Elfilin thought he was really weird and obnoxious until eventually warming up to him, but not really close enough to consider a friend. Magolor likes Elfilin, although he feels bad about weirding him out many times.

That more or less wraps up on how Magolor interacts with other notable members of the Kirby cast in my headcanons. He's been forgiven by the dream team except for Bandana Waddle Dee, and he's got rather silly dynamics with most of the other ex-villains that have also become Kirby's friends.

I think it's worth noting that Magolor has a bunch of 'partners-in-crime' relationships with many of the other ex-villains. He's got a 'partners-in-crime' with Marx, one with Taranza, one with Susie, one with Daroach, and ones with the mage sisters. Sometimes, he'll be joined by one of them in doing tomfoolery, because they all know how much he enjoys it. Can't deny that mischief is fun, huh?

Magolor's favorite food is apples, although his favorite type of food is fruit in general. Apples weren't always his favorite food, though, as it used to be pineapples until he started doing things with gem apples to inspire him to eat apples more.

Speaking of gem apples, Magolor has pulled pranks involving them. During Star Allies, when the mage sisters were the enemy, Magolor would offer them gem apples 'snacks' after defeating them, and then snapped his fingers to have the gem apples blow up in their faces to further humiliate them. Also looks at Daroach, who stole gem apples from Magolor before, but found out that it was pretty dumb to have done so.

While he has a fascination with ancient technology, he's gradually learning more about modern technology thanks to Susie. He has a phone that she made for him. Sometimes, he prank-calls people on the phone... he has Susie, Taranza and the mage sisters as contacts, so that's who he occasionally prank-calls, lol.

As Magolor's home area in an outer edge of Dream Land is where the Lor Starcutter will normally sit around at when he's not piloting it, he's been implementing upgrades onto it over time. He's given the Lor the capability of playing music, as well as the ability to play videos on its screens, meaning he can pretty much use the Lor's screens like a television. He'll sometimes play music or watch videos inside the Lor late at night, right before he goes to sleep.

Speaking of going to sleep, the Lor is where Magolor sleeps inside of. He doesn't have a normal house or anything, as he basically uses the Lor as his 'house'. Every time right before he goes to sleep, he turns off most of the Lor's functions so it doesn't make some really dumb malfunction as he sleeps. That wouldn't be good, lol.

He'll sometimes take the Lor out onto rides. He'll also use it for whenever he goes to vacation on other planets, or even to visit friends that live outside of Popstar (such as Susie and the mage sisters). He's more than glad to take friends onto rides in the Lor as he pilots it to places, either so they get to experience it in while it's in full operation or they may be going on the same vacation with him.

When the Lor isn't at Magolor's home in Dream Land, that means he's outside of Popstar for the time being, doing something on some other planet. Whether the Lor is at his home or not is an indicator if he's in Popstar or not. He occasionally does things out of the planet.

He's taken a vacation on Halcandra post-Star Allies one time, just to see what the place was up to and to see how Landia has been doing. While Halcandra is a messy place, it appears that Landia is the closest thing that the planet has to a 'ruler'. Magolor took some of his friends with him during this rare vacation to Halcandra.

The Lor Starcutter is Magolor's method of getting to the Forgotten Land, since he doesn't care enough to ask Elfilin to open up portals for him to get there, so instead he gets there himself. He's also brought many others to the Forgotten Land by using the Lor.

His first vacation in the Forgotten Land was with Taranza and Susie, who he took with him by using the Lor. The three of them checked out the place together for the first time. Then at some point later, Magolor made a second vacation in the Forgotten Land, as that time he brought Marx with him as he showed him around the place.

Magolor has been really enjoying his time in the Forgotten Land. He experienced everything that Waddle Dee Town had to offer, but what he liked the most was checking out the weapons shop where he liked seeing all of the ability 'costumes' that Kirby has worn.

After Forgotten Land's events is when Merry Magoland finally finishes production and becomes open to the public. That it opens up this recently explains how there are dress-up masks for Forgotten Land characters, as Magolor visited the place before finishing up his amusement park. Production began several months before Forgotten Land's events, and finished up some time after.

A large group of waddle dees helped Magolor build the park. They helped build the structures and the attractions. They assured to keep building the park as they gave Magolor the opportunity to take a vacation in the Forgotten Land, as he was way too intrigued to not visit there at his soonest opportunity to do so.

NOTE: While I'm aware that Merry Magoland might actually be taking place in a different reality, I'm making it exist in my headcanon universe. I mean, to be fair, you can see it in the background in some parts of the main story in RTDLDX, so I'd think it should be okay to have it exist in my headcanon universe.

Magolor himself created the dress-up masks. He created them using his magic, as over the years he's been improving on his magic and has developed the capability of creating things such as plushies.

The other notable members of the Kirby cast have had... wildly varying reactions to the masks. Many loved it, others kind of had a bone to pick with him about it. He didn't exactly get a whole lot of brownie points from Taranza and Susie when he made masks of their dead loved ones, despite them being his friends. Whoops. He did apologize, though... they eventually got over it as they're still his friends, but ooooh were they NOT happy about it at first.

Overall, aside from the controversy over the masks, the general reception of Merry Magoland is rather well. Many however have pointed out how hilarious it is for the main castle structure to resemble Magolor, as well as all the Magolor symbols floating around the place. That more than proves his pridefulness.

Magolor doesn't want trouble happening in his park. If someone tries to kickstart chaos, they'll be kicked out. They don't get banned from the park, as they can come back later, but they'll be asked to leave for the time being if they cause trouble. May need to look at Marx for this one, considering he has a bigger tendency for chaos than most others do.

The park has hours of when it's open and closed. It's open for most of the day, but it's closed during early morning and late night. There are times where Magolor might decide to close the park for a few days if he wants to go on a vacation or something, or he might close it for one day if he's wanting to go to some big event. Of course, he still has things he'd like to do outside of the park, and thus there are occasional days where he may have the park close for the time being.

Magolor may host particular events in Merry Magoland, such as holiday-related events, or when a close friend's birthday is coming.

Speaking of birthdays, he's made his own birthdays events in the park before! But before Merry Magoland opened, Magolor did have his birthdays celebrated in Dream Land ever since he moved in. Kirby would kickstart a birthday party for him every time. He really appreciates it! His non-Popstar friends will also show up for him.

There were some birthdays where he invited a bunch of people over to inside the Lor to have some party, and they either dance to music playing or they watch videos together. Either way, it's a lot of fun!

Back then in earlier parts of his life, his birthdays went uncelebrated as he didn't really have anybody. That changed post-RTDL when he started actually having people in his life to celebrate his birthdays with. He always gets super duper excited when his birthday hits.

Kirby always gives Magolor a big hug on his birthday. Awwwww........ that in of itself can be considered a present. It makes Magolor rather emotional every time that happens!

I think that about wraps up the headcanons that I have for Magolor! He's quite a fun character, isn't he? If you've taken the time to read all this, I thank you very much.

I made an earlier post going over my general headcanons for Susie, and if you decide to also check out that post if you haven't already, then I'd appreciate it!

Well, since now I've made these posts for both Susie and Magolor, that means Taranza will be the next Kirby character to make a massive headcanon post about to get this done for all of Wave 3! So you'll have that to look forward to.

I suppose that after Taranza, I may do either Marx or Gooey next after him. But for now, you get Magolor, and you also have Susie that I wrote general headcanons for earlier.

I look forward to seeing you for more later!

[la-pheacienne]

My two cents on episode 7 because I just watched it.

It was an amazing episode. I will even argue that it was the best episode so far. So many things happening, nothing felt rushed. The funeral after party was GOLD. So many dynamics being explored between all the characters, so many feelings expressed just by angry stares, longing glances and half spoken innuendos. Like a pot slowly boiling and ready to explode. The fight between the children was perfect, the fight between Alicent Rhaenyra and Viserys later on was easily the best scene in HotD until now. I am team Black until the very end and I love Rhaenyra with all my heart but I FELT Alicent in this episode and THIS is great writing. I absolutely loved that Alicent regretted her actions afterwards, I also loved how she expected her father to be pissed and judgemental, and he was judgemental but at the same time appreciative, like? That's some great, multilayered dialogue there, people. The way Daemyra schemed and plotted their wedding and Laenor's escape was GoT season 1 material. Epic plot-twist.

Let's talk about Daemyra. I went over many posts here about the couple, and I admit that I am genuinely confused. I will address some of the complaints I saw: Matt and Emma don't have chemistry. Emma wasn't into it. Daemon wasn't into it, he was blank and passive and indifferent. The sex scene was short and we didn't see oral sex and different positions, orgasms, eye contact, whatever. The dialogue before was also lukewarm because Daemon didn't confess his undying love for his niece on one knee. We still don't know Daemon's motives because he doesn't speak. He didn't show enthousiasm after the mariage proposal. Etc etc etc.

Part of the reason for this reaction IS the incredibly high expectations. Another part is the ridiculous nature of a lot of these expectations. With all due respect for Daemyra's shippers out there (because I am one of them) I think you are confusing this show with Pride and Prejudice. This is not a romance show. This is not a show about the epic love story between Daemon and Rhaenyra. This is also not a romcom. It's a Game of Thrones show. The love story is a part of it, not even the main thing. Yes the dialogue wasn't exactly lovey dovey, yes Daemon didn't start crying when Rhaenyra proposed, he didn't swear eternal love and devotion like Romeo. No, he didn't go down on Rhaenyra in a feminist power move.

I'm sorry, but who fucking cares.

I've said what their dynamic in this episode definitely wasn't, let's see what it actually was. Let's talk specifics.

What I saw with my own eyes, was two broken depressed people coming together again under the least ideal circonstances (hmm the funeral of Daemon's wife hello). I saw a very bitter and hurt Rhaenyra that still longed for Daemon. I saw a depressed Daemon that felt everything is lost to him until Rhaenyra confessed her feelings. I saw a very strong female character pursuing what she wants. I saw tenderness, love, devotion. I don't need romantic words for it, I saw it. It was fucking there. Daemon finally let slip the real reason why he chickened out in the brothel and in the mariage ceremony: wasn't for the throne, wasn't for his own ambitions, but for HER. "I spared you, you were only a child = you didn't understand what you were doing and how much it would cost you, your reputation, your claim to the throne, everything, so I let you be because I cared so much for you". "You have a place in my court if this is what you need" "I need NOTHING", said Daemon the ambitious bastard who only wanted Rhaenyra for the throne. Yeah. That's why he was so hesitant in Rhaenyra's affections, that would CLEARLY benefit him, that's why he was so considerate, and cautious, and afraid and hopeful and tender. Yep, the throne. That was the WHOLE fucking point of Rhaenyra pursuing HIM instead of him pursuing her. To show that he wants HER and not the throne, he wants what's best for her and he wants to make sure that's what SHE wants. He's not trying to seduce her because it would come across as yet another plan to get the throne. His feelings are already clear, Rhaenyra knows it, we know it, we saw how depressed he was and we saw the longing in his glances and the tenderness in his words, we didn't need big rom-com déclarations. So, Daemon's motives aren't clear people? Really? WTF.

The dialogue before the sex scene was impeccable. The most romantic scene in the whole GoT universe. Let's talk about the actual sex scene. Yes it was short. Yes I don't care. Again, this is not a romance movie. The sex scene was extremely cute, appropriate for the CIRCOMSTANCES (FUNERAL HELLO) and the characters position in this particular chapter of the story, Rhaenyra is not a cheerful teen anymore and she gives the deadly victorious possessive look in the end that I personally loved. Yes it was short, but again, it's not an epic romance movie, it's Game of thrones and there are other, more important things to show than oral sex, sorry. Go watch porn.

The only complaint that is valid is the lighting. That was shitty.

[heavensbeehall]

"Catching Fire", Chapter 5

Part 1: The Spark

Chapter 5: Katniss and Peeta are herded back into the District 11 "Justice" Building. Haymitch leads them to a safe place to talk (here are my thoughts on that). Peeta knows Katniss and Haymitch have been keeping things from him. Haymitch reveals he put his resources behind Katniss and not Peeta in the Games. They go to a dinner and do much of the same in other districts but the spark of rebellion has been lit. Katniss suggests a marriage proposal. Peeta is bummed. President Snow doesn't think it is enough.

Thoughts:

-- This is the first time I recall seeing Peeta angry. He feels as though he may have gotten Thresh and Rue's families killed by giving them the money. What's interesting to me is how well he understands how the Capitol will respond. It's not that he's naive and doesn't understand how they work. He knows the score but he's still trying to give Rue and Thresh's families a "brighter future." Classic Peeta.

-- Katniss notes "elation" in the faces of people in Districts 8, 4 and 3. To me this suggests 11, 8, 4 and 3 were the "early adopters" as it were of the Revolution. By the time the Quarter Quell happens, the Tributes from 6 and 7 will be part of the plot as well, along with Haymitch. Perhaps that is why Johanna had to prove herself a bit by getting Beetee and Wiress?

-- I'd love to know about the Rebel leadership in these districts. Commander Paylor of 8 was clearly a stand out. Bonnie and Twill speak of the organization there. In the previous chapter, Katniss doesn't think the crowd in 11 saluting her was spontaneous which means they also have some kind of rebel infastructure. And 4, of course being the home of my beloved Mags, is most interesting to me because it is somehow a bastion of the Rebellion and a Career district.

Quotes:

As far as I know, Haymitch has only been here once, when he was on his Victory Tour decades ago. But he must have a remarkable memory or reliable instincts, because he leads us up through a maze of twisting staircases and increasingly narrow halls. At times he has to stop and force a door. By the protesting squeak of the hinges you can tell it's been a long time since it was opened. Eventually we climb a ladder to a trapdoor. When Haymitch pushes it aside, we find ourselves in the dome of the Justice Building. It's a huge place filled with broken furniture, piles of books and ledgers, and rusty weapons. The coat of dust blanketing everything is so thick it's clear it hasn't been disturbed for years. Light struggles to filter in through four grimy square windows set in the sides of the dome. Haymitch kicks the trapdoor shut and turns on us.

It's not "instinct". He knows where he is going, guys.

".. I decided to look around the Justice Building. I'm something of an expert in architectural design, you know. [...] district ruins are going to be all the rage this year."

A little insight to the things Effie cares about. (Though it's a bit rude to call District 11's Justice building "ruins" considering... they are still using it though it's probably accurate.)

"Was that really the only time you kissed Gale?"

I'm so startled I answer. "Yes." With all that has happened today, has that question actually been preying on him?

Yes, Katniss. Yes. If you aren't actually "with" Gale already then he's still got a chance!

Peeta, who spends much of the night roaming the train, hears me screaming as I struggle to break out of the haze of drugs that merely prolong the horrible dreams. He manages to wake me and calm me down. Then he climbs into bed to hold me until I fall back to sleep. After that, I refuse the pills. But every night I let him into my bed. We manage the darkness as we did in the arena, wrapped in each other's arms, guarding against dangers that can descend at any moment. Nothing else happens, but our arrangement quickly becomes a subject of gossip on the train.

I am imagining some train person posting online about how Peeta and Katniss sleep in the same bed and she's always screaming.

[lightwise]

2 and 12 for the ask game please

Since you had to share one question I’ll answer an extra one here as well for you 😉 also wow these got really long and a little more intense than I expected. Hoping to not incite any violence with these answers but I did get pretty heartfelt here.

12. Name a common fandom complaint that you're sick of hearing.

Since @heyclickadee covered some of the opinions I have about pro-Jedi vs Jedi-critical perspectives, I’m going to go with a Bad Batch peeve I have. Honestly, it extends to more of a general media critique and concern as well.

I get really sad when I see people choosing one of these three stances:

1. Hating Crosshair for what he’s done/claim he needs to spend the rest of his life making amends and that he deserves everything that’s happened to him,

2. Hating the rest of the Batch (and Hunter specifically) claiming that they didn’t do enough, that they abandoned Crosshair, that they are horrible people who left their brother behind with no remorse and that they deserve everything that’s happened to them,

3. Hating Omega and considering her a dumb little kid who took Crosshair’s place with his brothers, ruined the show, and is otherwise just a stupid girl character that they don’t want to take seriously.

Now, of course it’s everyone’s right to like or dislike any character(s) or parts of a story that they want to. But one thing that is always really beautiful about TCW and TBB especially is the amount of nuance they strive to convey through their characterizations and plot lines. Very few people in these shows are all good or all bad, and even if they fall squarely on the side of evil vs good, we’re often given reasonings as to why they’ve chosen the paths and beliefs they have.

In addition—family is complicated. The close relationships that are portrayed between the Batch members, the addition of the chip’s influence and circumstances outside of their control, and the twisted difficulties that can come when the people closest to us hurt us, is something that is not one sided and requires a lot of nuance to navigate. Everyone and no one can be to blame in a situation, everything can have gone horribly wrong and yet people can still be sorry over it and seek reconciliation, and people can seek to repair the mistakes they’ve made and it will never erase or make up for the harm that has been done.

All of those contradictions exist in real people, in real life, and I believe that these shows want to portray that as best they can. Broken people who care and who are doing the best they can with the information they have and the motivations that they carry, in a world that they did not create and don’t fully have control over. I think this makes good storytelling (even if the story itself doesn’t always go the way I expected or wanted), and I think it’s good to have compassion for fictional characters just as much as real people. That’s how I hope to approach stories that I love, at least.

Also, sorry, but I have to throw in this classic. Stop blaming Kathleen Kennedy for everything. Like seriously people. I am neither for nor against her, I really don’t have strong opinions one way or the other. But I do know how corporate structures work, and I do know that she may be atop the structure and therefore the most visible for disgruntled fans to throw their ire at, but in all seriousness, she does not know the details of every single tiny aspect of what gets put out there, and she is not the only person making decisions on everything. She either directly or indirectly brought us Rogue One as well as the Kenobi show as well as Andor as well as Mando and TBoBF. In other words, there have been critically acclaimed and fan loved content under her leadership, as well as fan hated and critically meh projects. She’s not (always) the problem that fan bros like to claim she is. Lots and lots of people work on these projects. She’s just doing her job as well as anyone in that position likely would.

3. What is the worst part of canon?

I’m going to go with something that I figured out today as I’ve been rewatching both the Sequels and the OT—I started with The Force Awakens and was trying to decide why some parts of this movie are so freaking great and others fall just completely flat, especially compared to the original it’s styling itself after, A New Hope. There are lots of points I could make here especially related to Kylo Ren and Finn, but I had this revelation today for something that bothers me.

In TFA, and other modern Star Wars projects, there’s so much exposition where a character is essentially explaining themselves to the audience via a monologue to another character, but the topic isn’t necessary to their interaction or the scene. Whether it’s bringing in “fan service” moments or trying to explain 20 years of backstory that we’re never going to be shown on screen, too many things are just spouted off and/or overexplained for the audience’s benefit.

Whereas in ANH, everything we learn about the Force, Anakin, Luke, Han, Han’s debts, who Jabba is….it all comes from natural conversations between two characters. It doesn’t just feel like it’s for our benefit, it feels natural for both characters to be adding in these details or talking about certain things. And if it’s not something that these characters would need to say to each other in a particular scene, we don’t find out more details until we need to know.

I wish that modern script writing took into account that audiences are intelligent, we can have patience, and we can watch a story unfold without knowing everything up front. (I know, I know, Star Wars Twitter would beg to disagree with me). I just want to watch a story unfold, not be lectured at or be patted on the head through a screen. The good old adage “show, don’t tell.”

[b0tsbby]

Tales of Vesperia’s lost: Zagi as a misunderstood antagonist

Spoilers for the Definitive Edition of Tales of Vesperia!

Disclaimer: This is my opinion on evidence and lore found in the game. This is not a comprehensive guide on how to view the game or it’s characters. I just live here.

Up in the abandoned halls of Tarqaron, my first thought when seeing a barely standing, Blastia poisoned Zagi was “I’m going to miss him”. It was almost a joke at first. After so many fights with him, I got used to having Zagi show up in the most obscure places. He was weird, sure, but he became such a constant of the team’s journey. I could always count on him to show up, eventually.

It was only after my last fight with Zagi that those words started to mean a little more to me. For the first time, it clicked. He wasn’t ever coming back. For the first time Zagi was truly gone.

And I have issues with how the following scene played out. It felt so dismissive to hear Yuri and the others reduce Zagi to simply being ‘crazy’. It felt like something was missing, like an entire plot point or development was shoved under the rug, kinda like Raven’s pretty rushed reunion upon Heracles.

That’s when the skits that followed with Raven, Rita and Judith really solidified it for me. Zagi, beyond what was initially just another inconvenience for Yuri, is a tragic character. A character that meant a lot more to the themes of the game then it let itself realise.

Okay so, there’s not much we learn about Zagi’s background, and his path in game is somewhat sporadic. First we can deduce at some point he was in leagues with Leviathan’s Claw, working as an assassin to take a hit on Flynn where he meets Yuri instead. We see him again on Ragou’s ship, where for some reason, his ties to Leviathan’s claw are broken and he now works under Ragou and Barbos. We meet him again on his own in the Coliseum, aboard Heracles and finally Tarqaron. The most logical deduction is after Zagi’s meeting with Yuri, the assassin deflects from his former guild and mission entirely to pursue Yuri. Every choice he makes from then on, even the alteration of his body with Blastia, is for Yuri.

I’m gonna backtrack a little to talk about the other character that I feel Zagi behaved as a character foil to, that character being none other than Yuri himself. Morality, justice and the weight of one’s choices are some of the big themes that drive Tales of Vesperia’s narrative, and murder as a resort is not one too steep for both the story and Yuri, though Yuri is still at a stage where he feels the burden of death upon him. Murder is a last resort and he doesn’t actively enjoy having to take Cumore and Ragou’s lives. It’s this blood on Yuri’s hands that drives him to isolate and think less of himself. It’s these choices he’s made that way so heavily on him, making him believe he’s better off facing the world alone and not accepting the trust and support of Brave Vesperia and co.

And it’s in Yuri that we can understand Zagi better. There’s no mention of how or why Zagi became an assassin or how he came to realise he’s so good at carrying out the role. In the end though, he is one. There’s a lot of blood on Zagi’s hands and Yuri only serves as a small window to what effect that may have on him.

Furthermore, Zagi’s alone as far as we know. There’s not a single mention of another character he could be fighting for, or someone who maybe drove him to this path.

To put it all together, I believe in two possible instances regarding Zagi’s past:

One, he’s a character unfortunate enough to have had to make similar choices as Yuri, but alone. The guilt and possible trauma of it all could have been too much for him to handle, turning fighting and the act of killing, the very things that broke him, into some twisted, unhealthy coping mechanism. Realising he’d never be accepted again for the choices he’s made, Zagi resorted to putting meaning into this singular act, becoming exceptional, and making it his sole reason for being.

Then there’s two, perhaps Zagi was just ‘crazy with power’ , like the game suggests, from the start. Maybe the thrill of fighting is just something he’s always enjoyed (sounds like a character I’ve already mentioned). Maybe it had all been Zagi’s prime interest from the start, so much so that he became exceptional at fighting. Too exceptional.

So in a world where Zagi was viewed more as a threat for his talent or interest, with no else to turn to, he turned to a life where his existence would be valued, accepted. The life of an assassin.

But that’s all speculation, of course.

Let’s take a look at those respective skits again, starting with Rita and Judiths’s in “Zagi - Part 2”.

Where the brunt of Zagi’s misunderstood character lies ,I think, is in this loneliness. He has nothing left to put meaning into besides fighting. It’s brought up after his last encounter, and not just in the skits. I found it interesting how even Rita here, draws a parallel between her obsession with Blastia and Zagi’s obsession with , well, his work. They’re both characters with incredible talent, and they’re both characters who seemingly know how alienating it is to be talented, to be too good at something. The joy of being the best at what you do can only last for so long, before one craves a challenge again, or more so in this case an ‘equal’ .

We get more talk about this whole idea of equals in ‘Zagi’s End’.

I’m glad Raven brings up the other antagonists in this skit, specifically making a point of how Zagi is different. Zagi’s the unfortunate case out of the three that found his equal (In Yuri) but his equal ‘turned out to be his enemy.’ The skit goes on to explain his cryptic statement.

So Raven’s specifically talking about friends or allies. Friends strong enough to ‘keep their power from distorting them’. People who’ll support and simultaneously keep you in check. (This distantly referencing the very close relationship Yuri and Flynn have).

It’s safe to say then that Zagi’s simply never had that, or hasn’t had that in a while. Companionship, love and friendship are things he’s clearly never experienced for a long time, and things he’s clearly forgotten how to pursue. So Zagi cherishes the distorted affection he has for Yuri, his ‘equal’, because it’s the closest thing he’s felt to companionship in years.

Zagi to me, represents a sort of ‘what-if’ Yuri that simply had to face the world alone, a Yuri corrupted by the weight of his choices. A character so far gone that longed for something he’d tragically never have or experience.

Gonna end off with my favourite quote from ‘Zagi’s End’:

I think everyone in the team has dealt with their fair share of loneliness, heck, it’s the only link between all their pasts! So I especially got emotional when Raven said this.

The world can be cruel, and each one of them will have to make difficult decisions, have to face inner demons, if they haven’t already. But they’ll be alright. They have love. They have each other.

[queenies-corner]

@fairytale-lights shared a prompt idea with me where you pair a character with a song from your Spotify wrapped- and here it is!

I haven’t talked extensively about my characters and I’ve never posted any writing on here before, but this felt like a good place to start. This scene in particular would make more sense in the context of the full plot, but by itself reveals a lot about the characters of Jace and Cassus :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

jace x little talks by of monsters and men

i don’t like walking around this old and empty house

so hold my hand i’ll walk with you my dear

Jace wandered through the halls of the palace, completely and utterly lost.

Tiles and columns and hallways that should have been as familiar to him as the back of his hand seemed to stretch on endlessly, twisting and turning into a maze of whitewashed walls.

Even worse was the emptiness- not a single soul in any room that he checked- and an eerie silence broken only by the sound of his own footsteps.

He told himself not to panic. The palace wasn’t so big that he would be lost forever. Eventually he would run into a servant, or maybe even the familiar face of Ophelia. At this point, he’d even be glad to see Cassus, icy and silent as he was. Although his brother was no longer openly hostile towards him, he was reserved and melancholy, and Jace hated to think what Cassus thought of him.

Eventually, he came to a hallway that split into three directions. He could go left, right, or straight ahead. The doors leading straight were slightly different- the wood was stripped and polished instead of stained, and the handles were larger and showed more signs of use. Through the crack under the door, Jace could see the beckoning shine of daylight.

Finally!

Jace yanked on the handle. The door groaned pitifully and scraped across the marble floor, allowing sunlight to stream into the hall. Jace inhaled, allowing the fresh air to settle his nerves. Cautiously, he observed his new surroundings.

He’d entered a small, square courtyard, a quarter of the size of the main courtyard near the front of the palace. It was still sizable enough to have a small tree planted in the center, long dead but with low-hanging branches perfect for climbing. The grass under his feet was yellowish and overgrown, in need of a trim and a long-overdue sprinkle of rain. He ran his fingers through it, and his fingers met something cold and hard.

He knelt to examine the object at his fingertips. Hidden almost completely by the grass was a small wooden horse with tiny metal horseshoes and a bridle fashioned out of twine. Its paint was worn and chipped, and one of the horseshoes was missing. It was obvious that it had been well loved.

Jace felt sick.

He’d intentionally avoided the wing where the royal children- his siblings who’d never known he existed- had grown up. That was why he was so lost. This was the childrens’ courtyard. This was where they had lived. This was where they had died.

He imagined laughter echoing off the walls. He imagined brothers racing each other to the top of the tree, their little sister giggling in the grass. He imagined games of chess spread out on blankets and picnics eaten under the sun. Everything he’d missed, and everything they’d lost.

“Didn’t think I’d find you here.”

The horse slipped out of his fingers and was lost once again to the overgrown lawn.

Cassus’s brows furrowed as he noticed the distant expression on Jace’s face. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Jace blinked, finally processing the fact that Cassus was standing in front of him. It was strange to see him there- wreathed in the afternoon light, looking almost angelic- when he was the reason that this place that once held such joy was now empty and dying.

“What are you doing here?” he asked hesitantly.

Cassus laughed sharply. “It’s my palace.” After a brief pause, he continued, “Ophelia noticed you were missing and sent me to find you. Walked the whole palace before I got here. I figured you’d avoid this place.”

“I didn’t come here on purpose,” Jace replied crossly. He edged past his brother and ran his fingers along the bark of the tree. “What did it look like, when it was alive?”

“A tree,” Cassus replied, deadpan.

“What color were the leaves? Did it have any blossoms? Fruit? Did you ever climb it when you were-?”

“I’d rather not discuss this right now,” Cassus interrupted, tension rising in the tone of his voice. “You were gone, and I found you, so let’s just get out of here. This place gives me the creeps.”

There were layers of emotion in his brother’s voice that Jace couldn’t even begin to describe. Not for the first time, Jace pitied Cassus. He hated that he couldn’t see this place’s potential to become beautiful again, to bloom again, to echo with laughter again. He hated that the palace only reminded Cassus of pain and sorrow and death.

Perhaps he could change that.

He offered his brother his hand as he rejoined him in the doorway. Cassus regarded it coldly.

“I’m not holding your hand.”

Jace smiled. “Are you sure? I might wander off again. And then you’ll have to walk through the whole palace to find me. Wouldn’t that be tragic?”

Cassus rolled his eyes. “If you’ll be quiet the rest of the way back…”

Jace raised his eyebrows and offered his hand again. Cassus took it. His hand was shaking.

As always, Jace was astounded by how well Cassus hid his emotions. He had always been able to read people so easily until he’d met his brother. But now, with their fingers entwined as they made their way back to the familiar parts of the palace, Jace could tell that Cassus was afraid.

He was afraid of his past; the empty palace, the eerie quiet of the courtyard, the abandoned toys in the grass.

He was afraid of the present; in this moment, holding hands with the last remaining piece of his family, their relationship as fragile as a thin sheet of ice on a roaring river.

But most of all, he was afraid of the future; afraid that he would destroy everything good that was left in his life, afraid that the ghosts of his family would haunt him forever.

Jace squeezed Cassus’s fingers, trying to tell him that he was not alone, that they would walk through the emptiness and the fragility and the fear together.

And Cassus didn’t let go of his brother until they made it back to safety.

[welcometogrouchland]

Pacing around cause I'm having the exact same feeling that I got with thanks to them which is that I love the episode but it doesn't quite feel complete.

I think I've seen people say it's poorly paced which I don't think is true! This episode knows what it's about and only accomplishes what it sets out to. It is very clearly about emotional arcs and those are the things that end up resolved. everything else is just doing the legwork of setting up elements for the finale (getting people all in the one place, giving characters motivations and plots, etc).

It's all that background set up that goes unresolved because it's not for this episode, it's for the next, the same way something like Flapjack's sacrifice and Belos' plan was at the end of TTT.

I genuinely love FTF so much, it has some of my favorite character work in the series. Willow and Luz stealing the show, Amity and Gus getting little moments, Hunter once again being a vehicle for the writers to do a heartbreaking portrayal of grief, just like they did in TTT w/ Luz and Camilla.

They finally got me to like Boscha, they took the time to finally justify what makes kikimora so much worse than all the other emperor's coven lackies that we've met (something I always thought was lacking), they gave someone like mattholomule presence and development.

They put their blood, sweat and tears into the characters this episode, so that they can cover all the plot ground they need to next ep with minimal baggage.

again...it's just that understanding of knowing that none of these episodes are complete without the other, where they'll form into a 90 minute TV movie that does it's best to tell the story with the time it has left. Everything I wanted them to dwell on was something that couldn't have been included without taking something else away.

And sometimes the understatement works! Gus and Willow don't have a dramatic talk with Hunter about him being a grimwalker cause...they don't care. Respectfully. No matter what he is, they love who he is. Same with Eda and King missing Luz. They don't need to say it. It's felt very clearly.

I think I also just struggled to identify the theme at first, which always gets my jorts in a twist. Then, after a bit of looking around at other people's takes and opening my mind passed my preconceived wants and biases, I realized the theme (I think)

This episode is about adults making mistakes, kids being put in positions of "power", as they either try to fix things or end up replicating the broken dynamics set up by the adults.

(under a read more cause this started as a review-ish and then it got LONG bc. I just really love the themes of this show)

It's in the little things.

How no adults except Eda and Lilith (by king's leverage) survived puppet-ification whereas all the kids did. How those kids survived because the adults sacrificed themselves and gave them an inadvertent head start.

(not a huge predictions guy but I have a feeling that if Luz and Co end up needing to actually play the collectors new game, it's gonna be the kids who understand it intuitively, especially Luz)

How the kids tried to create a functioning society but ended up replicating the dynamic of their previous dictatorial society, right down to a scared and semi-vindictive child being manipulated by a less powerful person for their own gain. Boschas arguably meaner than the collector (when you take intention into account) and kikimora is much more pathetic than Belos but that's still the general dynamic going on.

How the episode ends with the kids of hexside finally cooperating in order to take down the last sluggish vestiges of Belos' empire's mindset.

How characters like Willow and Hunter bottle their feelings or otherwise struggle to express them but ultimately have to learn to be open so that they don't explode. This is something the adults in the show have repeatedly struggled with and Boshca herself points out how both her and Willow are leaders. Kids being put in positions of responsibility and fumbling their way through with no guiding hand (and I could talk all day about hubtlow hand symbolism. All day)

How Camilla helps Luz but finally opening up and relating both of their struggles to each other's, telling her that they're not so different and Camilla, the adult, made a mistake that she regrets. But she can only move forward and try to understand Luz and her world better.

How it seems that, in the show that riffs on the Isekai genre, where multiple characters have escaped to other worlds (Caleb, Younger Eda and Luz) in order to be understood but seemingly never verbalized this, leading to catastrophic fallout, the solution to the main character's issues is to finally just. Understand what it is she wants out of life. And it's a very simple but very existential and meaningful goal, of wanting to be understood. The way that Caleb, Eda, and even Camilla never were.

How Luz carving a palismen in a way no-one else ever thought too seemingly gave it new and exciting abilities. Nothing to do with her being inherently special or the titans specialist little guy. Just her making an unconventional choice and being rewarded for it. It almost feels like season 1 again, y'know?

It's in the way that the collector is literally rewriting their history to be "better", but (even though they're less violent than the usual expectations of their culture) still coming up short because they're only able to understand one person in the world and treat everyone else like toys. Toys that they love, but children inevitably break even their favorite toys when they play too rough. The collectors trying to be different but they're too young, naive and manipulated to see what was actually wrong with their species way of life.

The way that king wants to stop the cycle of collectors and titans killing and trapping each other by just talking to the collector but because of circumstances still has to go behind their back which just gives Belos' fire more fuel (though tbh Belos really took a gamble on that one)

It's all of this together that makes me insane because I feel like I need the payoff right now in order to fully satiate myself but at the same time...I don't. Because I don't want it to end.

For the future was a really good episode. Bit cluttered, bit busy, but then again when is this show not? I've come to love that about the owl house despite it's nature as a flaw.

I wanna know who that guy in the in-between realm was from the beginning of the episode (titan trapper?) And I want to know what purpose he serves. I want to know where characters like Alador and Steve are, what odalia's final moment will be, what the collectors new game might be, how the conflict is going to resolve and how the show will end. And I might only get some of these in depth, and others not at all and I can't even be mad about it. This show deserves more but I'm happy with this episode, not really as a standalone episode, but as a part of this larger movie-like send-off. Looking forward to watching and dreaming. Probably going to make fanart once I finish my current assignments (I have sketches for the reqs!)

This has been a post so long and rambly that I hesitate to maintag it. It's not for anyone. It's just for me. And I'm okay with that

[prettyboykatsuki]

»» — { ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ } — ««

speakeasy | s. aizawa 

➳ tags ;; dirty talk, smut, fem!reader, aizawa being a menace, mirror sex?, readers wearing a dress, the word violate ?, petnames like good girl, praise kink, fingering etc. 

➳ wc ;; 1.6k

➳ a/n ;; well-spoken men make my brain empty n my kitty wet dslkfjskdf hi mr. aizawa sir.. i like u 

➳ plot ;; aizawa likes to talk you through everything, even filthy mirror sex

»» — { ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ } — ««

Aizawa is clasically well-spoken. 

He used to get made fun of for it when he was younger - especially in high school where his formal speech felt out of place for his age. The older he gets, the more attractive the quality becomes. He speaks so smoothly - doesn’t stutter when he talks at all. It’s always slow, concise, and to the point. 

The content of what he says matches his tone of voice well. Aizawa is a conversationalist almost by nature. Despite how quiet he is upon meeting him for the first time, if the subject interests - he could harp on about it for hours and hours. He’s just as eager to hear you respond, loves adding to your ideas and building a concept up until it reaches the ceiling.

He’s knowledgeable too. Unsurprisingly, he reads a lot. But he also has a bad habit of deep diving into obscure things. He knows a lot about how clothes are made and the way honeybees fly. He’s a natural at the retention of information - of both the important and unimportant kind. Aizawa makes habit of these things - the ability to speak and communicate anything he wants. 

His vocabulary is vast as seven seas and his voice is pleasant to listen to - a raspy baritone, low in his throat. You could listen to him talk all day. 

The problem only lies with how Aizawa likes to use his voice. Selective by nature, it can’t help but feel purposeful whenever he talks to you this way. You can almost feel the hum of his throat, how it gets. With his hand placed so carefully between your legs - all you can hear is that deep chuckle that he likes to. 

Aizawa is uncharacteristically built. His body is all muscle, and you can feel it against your back as he holds you this chest. Your legs are spread apart over his - seated comfortably in his lap as your being exposed. It doesn’t help that you can’t see him, can only listen to the way he speaks to you. 

His voice is warm as it ghosts the nape of your neck - it smells like spearmint and coffee and sleep. His tongue smooths over the side, sharp teeth sinking into soft flesh as a hand rests your thigh. He massages your legs with a hum - and you squirm at his overbearing presence. 

“You look beautiful today” 

The compliment is well-meaning. You nod absently at it. You dressed up for this date with no expectations, masking your surprise is proving difficult. It’s like he senses it.  

“Why’re you so nervous, love?” 

“You’re.. hands are uhm..” 

He pauses, a free hand settling right at your belly. His knuckles brush over lace panties with a crooked yet lazy grin. You can feel it against your clit. It throbs with anticipation and desire. A wetness forms between your legs, drips like a broken faucet with repetition. You shift your weight around, feeling his cock in the small of your back. 

“My hands? What about them?” 

You want to say something, anything  really but you come up blank. His finger slides underneath the cotton barrier, snaps it against your sex a few times - amused. A little whimper carries through you as his fingers get closer and closer. The mirror in front of you is a terrible reminder of everything. The way Aizawa has you spread apart, the way his tired eyes glaze over your body. Your nipples are stiff underneath your dress - when he pulls the fabric to bunch underneath your tits you yelp. His thumb and forefinger are tender against your nipples as he pinches and twists them. 

All you can see is yourself and him over your shoulder, onxy black locks pulled up out of his vision. 

“Do you not like where my hands are touching you?” 

You moan, soft and sweet as he plays with your tits, shaking your head. It’s a losing game - you’re sure of it. 

‘N-no - ‘s just a lot” 

“That’s good, that’s good. It’d be unreasonable if you dressed like this and told me not to touch you, don’t you think?” 

And you want to respond back about something with bodily autonomy, something coherent and cohesive. But your body is running feverishly high and your mind feels blank. When your dress gets pulled up past your hips, bunching at the top of your thighs - you lose sight of your control. You want to squeeze your eyes closed, embarrassed by the graphic image of his hand. He pulls your panties back - lets it rub between your folds until your slick makes a mess of the light fabric. 

“Shouta, ngh,” 

“I haven’t even touched you yet but you’re drenched,” 

Aizawas hands are strong, pretty too - they look like they fit in your panties just right. His fingers brush the circle of nerves till your back arches, a piercing wave of pleasure that has you crying out his name. Such a small touch is enough to send you reeling as the beginnings of on orgasm snap in your gut. 

It feels like your skin is firing off, blazing heat encompassing you. His fingers are thick as they stretch your hole out, first one then another. He pumps two fingers in your cunt, scissoring it until he feels the tension of the stretch around them. Your insides feels soft against his touch, molded to the shape of his careful hands as your entire body throbs for his touch. Your pussy feels like it’s weeping and your eyes feel hazy. You can see yourself, bearing witness to the way he violates your cunt with ease. 

“Look at your cunt taking me in so good, right there in the mirror, my love” 

And he’s right, you know he is - you can see it with your eyes half-lidded. But your body craves more, even as an orgasm feels like it’s right there. You know you can’t reach it without getting what you need and Aizawa knows that too. You whimper soft in your throat, clenching around his fingers as you whine. It’s good but not good enough - has you grinding your hips back for more. 

“Shouta..” 

Your voice trails off and he smiles at you, chin tucked over your shoulder. 

“Hm? What is it” 

You whine, screwing your eyes closed as he goes faster and faster. You can feel yourself gush around his hands, orgasm impending but not quite there. You hiccup 

“Sho, please” 

“Please what, baby? Use your words and tell me what you want - I can’t read your mind after all,” 

You could argue that he could - that he can right now with how his cock keeps twitching in his pants at the way you moan so shamelessly. Your legs trap his hand as you squeeze them shut - almost crushing his wrist but not being strong enough. Emabrassment drowns your senses. 

“Your cock, Sho -  please” 

His laughter is smug, almost sarcastic. 

“So greedy. You want me to split you apart on it just like this? I didn’t stretch you out yet, arent you afraid I’ll break your pretty little pussy in half?” ― you can feel him push his pants down his thighs as he hoists your hips up with one leg. Suddenly his cock is sitting between your legs, brushing up against your swollen pussy ― “or is that what you wanted in the first me? For me to break you open?” 

The tip throbs right against your clit, sending electricity through you. And you’re begging him again to fuck you. His hand rests on your belly, loving and tender, as the head nudges against your hole. 

“Keep your eyes on it or no cumming, got it?” 

You exhale a shaky breath of confirmation, hear ricocheting against your ribs. And you watch like he asks - watch the way your whole stretches open and tries to accommodate his size. Watch as he penetrates you inch by inch, thick and hard and hot until you feel him against your cervix. Aizawa’s never been particularly big but the way he fills you up makes you think otherwise.

“Does it feel good?” 

You know the question is rhetorical with the way he bounces you on his dick - the smug grin on his face as your expression becomes messy. Skin covered with a sheer of sweet, tits bouncing, feet  kicking as he lifts you by your hips and fucks into you. You can still see yourself in the mirror being taken and it makes everything feel more sweet. 

Delirium is the only thing you can feel as he fucks up into, brushing your cervix with a spare hand on your clit. Pleasure is overbearing emotion, burning a hole in your stomach as heat licks at your calves. You can feel him so fucking deep you can barely breathe. His whispered sweet nothings only add fuel to the fire. Aizawa’s jsut got that voice  - that tone that makes each word of praise go straight to your core. You’re half dressed and getting fucked so hard you feel it in your lungs but all you can hear is Aizawa groaning “good girl” against the shell of your ear. 

“You’re ― shit, haah ― clenching down on me so tight. Are you gonna cum, hm? Gonna cum all over my cock, like a good girl? So fucking pretty aren’t you?” 

Your orgasm knocks into you full force as his words fill your empty head. Convulsing, your spine arches you cum hard and fast all over his cock - still full to the brim. You twitch as you ride it out, slow thrusts making you mewl as he kisses the crown of your head. 

Aizawa hums, soft and low 

“I haven’t finished yet so you’ll have to bear with me. I’m sure you can take it though, right?” 

And you nod your head, thighs trembling. You’re sure with how he speaks to you, Aizawa could convince you of anything at all. 

»» — { ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ } — ««

[ayamturd]

late│technoblade

summary: three times you said i love you, and the one time technoblade says it back

prompt: “I’d do anything for you, whether or not you ask me to”

warnings: fluff and major angst, blood and death descriptions, dsmp spoilers

pairing: in-game romantic!technoblade

a/n: this is my entry for @burntcilantro​‘s 500 writing event!! much love and congratulatory to min, they’re an amazing writer and an even better person (they’re so nice, give them the support they deserve)

also i separated some of the dsmp events and spaced them out (so there’s more time between for plot purposes lol)

wc: (2.0k) - m.list

“Why are you so stupid?”

You were sat on top of a chest, holding one leg with your arms while the other was currently being wrapped by Technoblade. While you giggled at his insult, you winced once he tightened the gauze on your ankle with a glare. 

“It’s not funny, y/n.” He leaned down to bite off the rest of the wrapping, finishing the fold as you huffed at his seriousness.

“I told you to watch the house, not climb onto the roof and play a fun game of risk. What were you thinking?”

His stare was heavy and made you feel little as he looked down at you. The tone of the room changed as you lost the humor in the situation, his concern overpowered by the anger laced in his voice.

“I just wanted to help,” you stated, turning your face away, discouraged, with your arms crossed. “You’ve been getting the all the resources lately and haven’t let me even step off the damn property.”

Looking down, you fiddled with your fingers as to avoid his gaze. “I wanted to try and fix the wood panelings that have been leaking, that’s all.” 

The silence was harsh, and you swallowed deeply at how uncomfortably stiff the air became. Technoblade opened his mouth to speak but quickly closed it shut with no words to voice.

With a shaky breath, you gripped the edge of the wood and slowly lowered yourself onto your foot; you didn’t plan on staying here just so he couldn’t say anything more. Technoblade was quick to steady his arms around you in case you fell, but you immediately pushed his hand away aggressively and stood with all your weight on your healthy foot.

Arms out to balance, as you tried to take the first step on your bad foot, you crumpled into your self with a yelp from the pain and collapsed. Ready as always, Techno caught you from behind and guided you to the nearest chair. 

You flinched from the small movement but sighed once sitting again. Techno crouched in front of you to check how you physically were, but your eyes were closed shut as you tried to collect your breathing. 

“Y/n,” Techno call out. Calming yourself down, you opened your eyes to meet his; he was much more sincere before, his face soft as he spoke gently to you. 

“Hey, I’m sorry.” Looking down, Technoblade paused as to gather his thoughts before explaining himself further. 

“I know I’ve been overbearing since the attempted execution,” you reached a hand towards his cheek when he mentioned the recent event, which he leaned into as he continued with closed eyes, “but please know it’s from a place of concern. I just- I don’t want anything to happen to you. I can’t let anything happen to you. I-I…”

“I know. Trust me, I know.” You spoke for him as you pulled him into your chest, hugging his large frame as best as you could. He relaxed into your hold with a sigh of relief. 

“I love you, Techno.” You kissed the top of his head, and he only burrowed himself deeper into the hug.

“I’m so sorry, love.”

Technoblade was hunched over on the front lawn, hands on his head while trembling from the overwhelming pain of the voices. He whimpered at your words, indicating he heard you to some extent.

He had come home, alone, and fell to his knees at the sight of you when you opened the door. Immediately, you had rushed over to him and skid to your own knees to comfort him, but he grunted from your attempts to touch him; even when under the influence, he was still conscious enough to fear for your own safety relative to the blind rage of the voices. 

You had tried talking to him, attempted to get him to give you any context to what was causing his anger, which he answered with snarling growls in return. “Tommy… left… betrayed. Chose government.” 

While broken into murmured words, you understood instantly and tried to bring him back in spite needing to quench your own anger from Tommy’s departure. You rested your palms into the snow, lowering your head as much as possible to meet his bowed head. 

You peered up at him despite his own eyes screwed shut from the unbearable chaos that roared within his head, and called out to him as softly as you could. It was a stretch, but you hoped you could soothe him down by talking.

“Hey bubs, just listen to my voice, alright? You hear me now yes? You can understand what I’m saying?” Patiently waiting, you watched him closely until he gave the smallest nod, fists still pushed against his skull and twisting from the ache. 

“That’s good, that’s really good, love. You hear my voice, now listen to my words.” Slowly, you leaned close enough to whisper to him directly. 

“I’m here, okay? I’m so sorry about Tommy, I know how much you cared for him. I still care for him too, and I know it hurts right now, but rest assured I’m still here. I’m here Techno, and I’m never leaving you.”

With clenched teeth, he let out a sob at your declaration and pushed his head against you. You took his permission to touch him promptly, gripping him with as much strength as you could carry so he felt stable and secure. 

You squeezed him, desperate to ground him from slipping further, and rocked the both of you. He released a shuttered breath, and you kissed his skin gently.

“I love you, you know? I will always be here and I’ll always love you, no matter what.”

He clutched you with his entire being, your words and presence more than he could ever ask and want. 

“Why do you have to be too reckless for your own good?”

You grinned widely at his words, smile almost sadistic as you glanced at him with your arms propped on the axe you carried above your shoulders. 

“What ever could you mean?” Despite the roll of his eyes, he did nothing to hide his own amusement to your eagerness to the upcoming destruction you were to bring. He chuckled, his deep laughter making you smile more softly to how genuine he was as you walked besides him. Hand raised to wave his rocket launcher, he focused ahead proud. 

“We’re quite the pair, aren’t we?” Turning to look at you again, you stared at him adoringly and smirked slightly while bashful to his confident manner. “We are indeed.”

It became relatively silent as you walked through the layered snow, feet crunching from your steady pace. You continued to take random glances at him, Technoblade doing the same until you both heard a loud groan. 

“My god, you two are insufferable, I can’t deal with this right now.” Dream sneered at you specifically, as if you were the cause for his own discomfort, and walked through you both.

“I’ll meet you guys there instead, but hurry.” Swiftly, he pulled out an ender pearl and threw it a few yards ahead towards the portal, his figure disappearing altogether. 

You stared in disbelief from his actions until a cough interrupted your thoughts once more. “You know what,” Phil avoided looking at you both, his hands tapping together awkwardly as he walked ahead as well but turned to address you while moving backwards. 

“I’ll see you guys there too, just, be sure to be quick?” You both nodded wordlessly, and he took his leave in fast haste. 

Standing there alone, you risked another glance at him and met his eyes, laughing loudly at the circumstances. 

Technoblade held a hand to his face, body shaking from his laughter while you were endlessly giggling, holding your stomach from the pain. Eventually, your fits faded with large smiles, and you faced him with a shake of your head. 

“I didn’t realize we’d be one of those couples.” Technoblade sighed, though you could tell it was for play, and nodded. “A shame really, I never thought this day would come.” 

You giggled again, and chose to move closer, tilting your head upwards at him with a sweet beam while leaning onto your axe. He gave you a small smile in return, however his faded immediately after. 

Lifting his open hand, he cupped your cheek and bent down to kiss your forehead, touching yours together after with his eyes closed. “Promise me you’ll be safe? I trust you to protect yourself, but for me, stay safe when things start to go bad?”

While you knew it was impossible to guarantee you’d stay away from the majority of the danger, you knew better than to leave his concern unanswered and open. 

“I promise,” you murmured, “for you, I promise.”

He pulled you against his chest this time, engulfing you completely and holding the back of your head earnestly to his heart. 

“I love you,” you voiced, your words muffled into his armor and coat. He hummed while looking ahead, his eyes trained on the glowing portal that called towards him. This was a war he refused to leave with mercy, the price of your peaceful lives together on the line. 

“No…”

There was too much blood. The thick liquid stained every surface and soaked through his coat that he pushed against your wound. 

Internally panicking from your tight expressions of discomfort, Technoblade desperately searched through his inventory for something, anything, that could heal or at the very least help you. He was forced to face the reality that he used all his potions during the midst of battle and combat. He couldn’t do anything. 

“Why, why why,” he snarled, his eyes clouding with an outset of tears he couldn’t care for. “Why are you so stupid.” His voice caught in his throat from his conflicted emotions and he tightened his hold on the fabric pushed against your stomach; the pain had faded at this point, and you were numb to the constant pressure he tried to hold. 

“I’m so sorry, love. I lied.” Your voice was light and strained, but Technoblade refused to accept the situation for what it was. He turned to a perched crow, screaming at it to get Phil and scaring it away with a slash of his sword, before tucking his head down in an almost silent plea. 

“Why do you have to be too reckless for your own good?” he whispered. Though he tried to be delicate, he couldn’t help how tight he held your hand. 

“I’d do anything for you, whether or not you ask me to.” You gave a tired grin as your eyes began to droop, hand tightening on his, however incredibly weak in comparison. 

“I asked you to be safe,” he cried, body stricken with grief as he abandoned his hold on your stomach and instead shakily held your face, your own blood smearing against your skin from his callous fingers. “I needed you safe.”

You placed a hand over his, using all your strength to relish in his touch and kissing the inner of his palm. “Yet you needed my love more.” 

He choked out a sob from your admittance, and pulled you into his chest, your body limp, as he rocked you slightly. “I’ll always be there for you, and love you more than I could for my own safety.”

The ruins echoed the wails of a tormented heart on the broken landscape of a haunted battlefield that called for death and devastation. The smoke and clouds of destruction reigned above, and despite the final end to the corrupted nation that was built on nothing but lies and deceit after a helpless man’s death, Technoblade couldn’t bring himself to care. 

“I love you,” he uttered, the words he struggled for oh so long to express finally free from its cage. “I love you, y/n. I love you so much.”

His words fell on deaf ears, and he screamed in agony at the truth that laid before him.

He was too late.

[arcane-temp-fandomblog]

Arcane framing / Anyone can die in this story, I swear

I'm supposed to finish next part of CaitVi storyline, but I'm too tired - so just a funny post. Why is Mel the last person we see on council side before credits of Season 1 roll?

Because she's the first person to notice or be notified of incoming missile. With a chime - yes, like a mobile phone. Waaay before it hits the glass.

Lets look at all the options, so everyone can make up own mind if that's a reasonable conclusion to season 1 ending:

Possible items:

1. Zhonyas Hourglass - the chime resembles in game chime for Zhonyas

2. Locket of Iron Solari

3. Guardian Angel

(I'm going to give double points to writers if the item was given to her before leaving Noxus by her mother or her brother or 'her friends oversees [if that wasn't Kino]' - in that order)

4. She has magic abilities - imo. unlikely, since she doesn't seem to know much about magic

5. She will die - for drama and sadness.

No matter that several (I have a list) plot threads have not been explored around Mel and we just got her mother in last two episode to start building into her proper arc for next season. How could she survive the rocket - she's just a human. There's no get out of the jail free cards in this story.

In the following essay I will demonstrate that there's no plot armour in this show, just real armour.

Like with Ekko, Marcus doesn't even blink before he shoots him.

Also Jinx almost explodes him with herself. But only damage Ekko sustains is a twisted ankle and his broken stop-watch.

With an added wink to the players at in-game rune / item that can grant you one 'get out of damage' free card but after is broken - the stopwatch. When it becomes broken stopwatch - it has a unique trait description "Shattered time - the stopwatch is broken but can still be upgraded". Funny, that Ekko is 'the boy who shattered time', and will probably built it into his Z-drive - aka his passive. It also now precisely only counts 2 and a bit seconds, just how much in game stopwatch grants you. Ekko in game can rewind 4 seconds, so just before red dial on his watch.

Why doesn't this feel like a Deus Ex machina - these kind of narrowly evaded deaths? Because stakes of this show are not in surviving. Every near brush with the death rewards the audience with pushing the story and the character forward. The death or possible death - especially violent - are never with a long, dramatic wind up.

Anyway, next in line is person who nearly got Ekko shot in the first place - Caitlyn. This time Marcus is just a bit too slow to shoot her, I mean he can explain shooting a trencher - he'd have hard time explaining why he shot a daughter of a councillor. Also Jinx's bomb which saves her - only gives her a leg gash - same as Jinx had after her fights with the firelights. But she stapled it herself.

Look at Cait for the first time seeing that well maybe Vi and Ekko had a point about the enforcers. What beauty - that's why Ekko doesn't need to die. The stakes of the scene are with her looking in the face at the reality of her world and her misconceptions, not in Ekko dying/not dying.

And of course Jinx had opportunity to kill Caitlyn before and after family dinner. She's just soo crazy and irrational /s ... ugh

So next in line, the person who nearly succeeded in the quest to die on that bridge alongside Caitlyn & Ekko - Jinx. Don't worry baby girl, mob-dad and broken-doctor will drag you out of certain death even if you're going to be screaming while having wild shimmer ride. Because they're evil, evil people.

And just next to her, is her big sister Vi - and her death quest. I mean revenge quest. Same difference.

No worries, Cupcake is on the case. She'll protecc, she'll attacc and most importantly she'll give up her weapon to get Vi shimmer... I mean medicine. So then she can give all the audience blue balls by not kissing Vi.

And even if Vi leaves Cupcake behind for her not-brother, and doesn't come back to her and instead goes looking for Sevika again (I would do too, she's soo hot). Don't worry, her not-brother has her ass covered with a shield (I think - it must be Jayce's addition). Rightfully so Jayce sensed that alongside miners - Vi not coming back may spell actual death for him from Cupcake.

And she'll repay him by continuing to fight and then completely botching the family reunion. I mean he kind of deserved that but... anyway.

Onto the character that has audience, that knows the game and doesn't know the game, equally scared about him both dying and not dying - Viktor. Who the plot tries to both kill - in terms of terminal illness thanks to Piltover's amazing environmental policies and give all the ways out in terms of Hexcore and...

...lets start with the setup:

Since Jayce doesn't answer it, we should actually infer it from the context of all dialogue of act 2. The answer is 'none, he's living on borrowed time atm', and for sure not until next Progress day.

But if - which is quite likely - Shimmer was developed thanks to Singed studying Rio's rare mutation and is incremental to him finding cure through hexcore - then the implication are pretty funny. Because every person Viktor befriended thanks to science - aside from Heimerdinger - will actually have helped to save his life. Then of course he'll become the evilest of people.

So including Rio, in the order:

Rio - the friendly but dying dragon Viktor befriended, that may or may not be how Singed developed Shimmer (like it wasn't in text confirmed in the show). One knows Viktor and Rio are bffs forever now that Viktor has matching arm and leg to his favourite lizard, sorry Jayce and Sky - Rio was first.

Need more time to find cure working with hexcore, no worries Jayce will use - albeit unknowingly - his new found power of economic lobbying to make council throw out Viktor's and his 'mentor'. To buy more time - because btw. that's what Heimerdinger wanted to do in that council meeting, he just didn't have time to finish his speech to push for destroying the research on hexcore.

Viktor goes to the evilest of doctors and he'll offer Viktor a possible solution - Shimmer, also Viktor - dear boy, you don't have time to work on plants. If an infused with his blood hexcore would even ever work on plants.

Then once Viktor definitely knows - with a proof of his leg - that Singed was onto something with his advice and shimmer. What does he do? Oh yes, like a typical, reasonable scientist that follows scientific method, he goes against his empirical findings - because what's the worst that can happen, he's only danger to himself. Only thanks to Sky saving his life - literally - he's still alive.

And the take away from having his life saved by another person is this:

Of course, also taking Sky's research with him in this scene. I'm sure Sky would approve of both decisions. Thank you Jayce, like save and pass on that poor girl's research at least Viktor. Then you can go do whatever you please, become evil machine villain.

And notable mentions:

Jayce who like proper person just took his time in this scene, then stayed safe whole rest of Season 1. Thou he did put his own city on fire.

Sevika who took Powder's mokey bomb like a Zaun's best girl she is to save it's next in line leader. And Singed who also took Shimmer explosion to the face.

I swear everyone can die in this story at any moment.

So why do characters evading death not feel cheap in Arcane?

Because the story is not centred on staying alive for the stakes, most characters actually willingly go out of their way to not stay alive. Looking at you Vi. More importantly every brush near death is a trade off. We as an audience learn more and usually characters learn more - we see them react - Caitlyn and Ekko / Ekko and Jinx on the bridge is a great example. The drama and sadness and guilt ifJinx died... would be a lot less interesting than her staying alive and having both Vi deal with Jinx being Jinx and Ekko probably next season with pre-judging her - still with sadness, guilt and drama. But now Jinx is an active participant. This plot will not stop for the characters being sad moping around. There's enough drama in action that was written. There will be no long bedside speeches and prolonged telegraphed goodbyes imo.. because that kind of drama is cheap and soo overdone. Characters live or die on snap of fingers - like Silco. And that is what keep everyone on edge watching this - the lack of telegraphed deaths, always playing the characters straight not 'disposable' like Mylo and Claggor.

And if real stakes come with characters living or dying, it'll be the finale of the PvZ series of Arcane.

Anyway, yes maybe everyone will die in the council, but how likely is it? Will the show really be more interesting if everyone dies? No, it won't. Prove me wrong Arcane.

Also sometimes staying alive is worse than dying.

This post is for fun.

Other posts by me - Arcane meta analysis posts - mostly politics, tech and character parallels

[makeste]

my biggest worry about the UA traitor is that it won’t feel significant as the major characters suspected in being it don’t play a big role in the story leading up to now.. like aoyama yes he might cause shock but hagakure?? she doesn’t done much imo but i do think she is the traitor i just wish hori given her some spotlight early on to lead to the moment and the suspense yk

fwiw, you're not alone, anon; I see this concern crop up pretty much every single time there's a U.A. traitor discussion. but the thing is, there's an underlying assumption here that the sole purpose of a plot twist is to shock people. and I would argue that's not true. imo, a well-written plot twist serves many purposes, and shocking the audience is only one of them, and far from the most important one. (in fact, I'd argue that it's not even strictly necessary.) here are four that I can think of right off the top of my head.

they catch and hold the audience's attention. this isn't the case for all plot twists, but it's certainly true for ones which the author chooses to deliberately dangle before the audience, as Horikoshi chose to do with the U.A. traitor plot. if he really wanted to shock people with the reveal, it would have been better for him not to call attention to it in the first place. there was no need whatsoever to have Present Mic bring it up back in chapter 83. but he chose to go that route because he wanted the readers to notice, and he wanted them to start thinking about it and to start speculating about the traitor's identity. it gets the audience excited, and it gives them an incentive to keep reading to see how the story will play out.

they encourage the audience to engage more with the story. the U.A. traitor plot is easily one of the most talked-about elements in the entire story. at this point I don't think there's a single teacher or student character who hasn't been the target of suspicion at some point or other. and again, this was a conscious trade-off on Horikoshi's part, because it would have been much easier to blindside readers with the eventual reveal if they weren't out here forming all of these exhaustive theories. announcing that There Is A Traitor pretty much guarantees that no matter who it ends up being, someone will have predicted it ahead of time. but the trade-off is that fans are paying closer attention to the story, and continuing to think about the plot even when they're not reading the manga, and engaging in more discussion with their fellow fans. and all of that is more than worth the loss of the shock element imo.

they add new layers and depth to the story. this is the hallmark of all of the most iconic plot twists. anyone can write a story and tag on some sort of half-assed unpredictable heel turn at the end in order to try and surprise people and make themselves look smart. but the best plot twists are the ones which actually make sense, and which have foreshadowing sprinkled in throughout the story, so that when you go back and look at everything a second time it makes you go, "ohhh, that's why." a good plot twist should be just as enjoyable to read the second and third time around, even after the shock value has expired, because the satisfaction of seeing a well-planned and executed plot development is still there. and with the very best twists, the story is actually even more enjoyable to go back and reread afterwards, because the knowledge of the twist adds new insight and context and perspective to all of the previous scenes.

and last but not least, they add suspense. there are plenty of ways to keep your readers on their toes that don't necessarily involve surprises coming out of left-field. and this is another thing that the author gains when they make that calculated sacrifice of announcing a plot twist ahead of time. the reader is no longer going to be shocked, because they're now anticipating it -- but that anticipation is a great consolation prize in and of itself. and so with this particular plot, for instance, there's more to the U.A. Traitor Mystery than just the question of who it is. there's also the questions of why, and most important of all, the question of what will happen when everyone finds out? and those questions add a ton of suspense to the story. when will AFO call on Hagakure again? what will he ask her to do? what's going to happen if and when she finally gets caught? how exactly is Aoyama involved in all this? and how will the other members of class A react?? each of these questions has enough inherent suspense that you could make a separate cliffhanger out of each and every one of them if you wanted to.

the thing that everyone always seems to overlook is that the reveal isn't the point. the reveal, when it happens, is going to be a one-time thing which will only be in play for a single chapter at most, after which the plot needs to still be able to stand on all of its other merits. so for instance, suppose that Horikoshi does go for shock over substance, and decides to go with someone "unexpected" like Ochako. sure, you get the shock value, because no one seriously expects it to be her. and maybe to some people it would feel more impactful, because she has a closer connection to Deku and the other characters. but the trade-off is that a twist like that would make absolutely no sense. it completely lacks the careful foreshadowing of the Hagakure/Aoyama twist. and it would detract from Ochako's character development, rather than adding on to it, because it would completely undo so much of what her character journey has been about up until now. all of that sacrificed just for the sake of a one-time twist, which a good chunk of readers would be spoiled for in advance thanks to the weekly spoiler leak cycle. ymmv, but to me that would absolutely not be worth it, and would be a huge waste of both Ochako's character, and of all the careful work that Horikoshi has done to weave this whole plot together.

on the other hand, the fact that Hagakure has had next to no spotlight up till now is exactly what makes her the perfect candidate. with her there's no need to worry about undoing years of carefully planned character development. there's no need to worry about the twist not making sense, or not holding up to the scrutiny of hindsight, because all of Hagakure's interactions with the other characters have always been curiously superficial. we know next to nothing about her family or history or motivations. her character is pretty much a blank slate, which makes her pretty much the only person in 1-A whose betrayal wouldn't feel awkward and forced and completely unnatural.

and as for everyone who's already made up their minds that her betrayal would lack any impact, I think they're both underestimating the amount of impact that any betrayal from one of class A's own would have, and also underestimating Horikoshi's ability to deliver when it comes to ninth-inning backstories. Dabi's backstory came pretty late in the game as well for instance, and that didn't take away from its impact at all. and the same goes for Hawks as well. just because Hagakure doesn't have any backstory yet doesn't mean she's not going to get one. and if you think Horikoshi doesn't have something good cooked up after all this time, then I don't know what else to tell you, except just, "wait and see."

anyway so yeah. and also just a reminder once again that even though fandom sometimes gets bogged down in this kind of discussion involving our personal opinions as to who would be the best traitor candidate, or the most shocking or meaningful or unexpected, etc., at the end of the day the actual evidence we have all points to Hagakure. I know I sound like a broken record at this point, but yeah lol.

[5sospenguinqueen]

PULL ME BACK FROM THE DARKNESS ~ CATO HADLEY

PLOT: You and Cato fill in the missing pieces of each other. 

Warning: smut, m/f, hints at PTSD and depression, slight breeding kink if you squint, slight size kink.

I am not responsible for what media you choose to consume. If you cannot handle the contents of this or are too young, please do not read. It is your responsibility, not mine. 

________________________________________________________________

Wet strands of hair dripped down your back as your fingers nimbly worked at braiding them away from your face. Not yet fully dressed, you leant across the sink to gaze into the small mirror to see whether the top of the braid was flat. A click resonated throughout the room and you couldn't help the smile that sidled its way onto your face as the thudding of heavy footsteps filled your ears. The hulking figure of the man who had been your rock filled the doorway and you connected eyes with him through the mirror. Rough fingers replaced your hands as he smoothed out the tangles in your hair and expertly twisted the strands together. Once he was done, you couldn't help but admit that he had done a better job than you would have done yourself. Reminding you that he had younger sisters who he'd been forced to practice on, he pressed a kiss to the side of your head before stripping for his own shower.

Sinking your teeth into her lip, you heard him exclaim in shock when the water came out cold instead of the usual lukewarm. Guilt made its appearance once more when you realised you had used up the hot water for the day. Plopping down onto the mattress, you closed in on herself as the memories that had plagued you all day took their toll on you. For so long you had been fighting – fighting for survival, fighting other children, fighting your own mind. Whilst your hands were no longer covered in blood, they would never be cleansed of the innocent lives you had taken.

Pulled from your thoughts as a bare chest entered your view, you bit her lip at the towel slung around his hips. How it didn't drop any lower was beyond you but you found herself almost willing it to slide down. Leaning into his touch as he placed his hand on the side of your face, you looked up at him through your lashes.

"Rough day, baby?"

You remained silent, relishing in his strength for a moment or two. All you wanted was to lie down and wait for the fight to pass. To wait for the moment when her mind would fall blank and the memories would cease to exist. Eyes connecting with Cato's, you realised you had disappeared inside your own head once again. Concern was written across his face until you reassured him that you were present in the room and not back in the arena. Both of you had spent too long plagued by the chaos that had followed you out of the arena. Thankfully, one of you was always there to be the tether to reality. Unfortunately, that didn’t stop Cato from looking at her as if she was one crack away from irreparable. 

"Stop," she demanded. "I'm not weak enough to crumble from one bad day. I’ll get through it, just like I get through the rest.”

"Sweetheart, I never meant-."

"No, I know exactly what you meant. The next Games are fast approaching and my nightmares are coming on faster and darker but so are yours. Snow didn't break me. I'm not some fragile little doll that needs to be hidden away whilst the pieces are glued back together again. I am perfectly mentally capable of mentoring the next lot of tributes without having a breakdown.” 

"Indie, this isn't about me thinking you're not strong enough, this is about me not being strong enough! How can I look at these small children and send them to their death. I've already had to deal with losing them before."

Falling to his knees, Cato buried his head in your lap and allowed the tears to fall. Whispering soothing words, you ran your fingers through his blond strands. Teardrops slid down your own cheeks as you watched the strongest person in your life fall apart. Cato had been there for you since the moment you had been reunited after your were rescued from the arena after cutting down all those in your way. He had been there to catch you every time you stumbled. Watching him feeling so hopeless shook you and although you felt like curling up next to him and giving in, you knew it was your time to be there for him.

"Listen to me, we've made it through death and we've made it through separation. Baby, I am just as scared as you but I know that we're going to get through this together. We haven't made it this far just to lose now. You and me, together, Cato. Forever."

"You don't deserve this." Cato sniffled, brushing away his own tears. "You've been through so much, lost so much, I'm supposed to be there for you."

"Cato, I'm your partner, it's my duty to be there for you. We fight together or we don't fight at all. Don't forget that we're from Career Districts. We're always strong and we never lose. We will not allow these next Games to strip away the strength that we have left."

"Well maybe, for one night, we reward ourselves with the luxury of being weak. Just tonight, let's forget about this stupid war and just wallow in our pity. Please?"

And maybe it was the broken look on his face, the sadness swirling in the sky blue eyes, or the fact that forgetting about the future Games was all you wanted to do, you granted him the only thing he had ever asked of you. Snuggling into his comforting (still bare) arms, you allowed yourself to cry about your own pain. The tears that fell weren't for the fallen and all they had left behind, they weren't for the deaths of the future children you were about to witness, these were purely for how mentally exhausted and rundown you felt. Soft lips kissed away your tears. One warm hand rested on the cool skin of your hip, having slithered its way under the thin shirt you slept in.

With a small inhale, you pressed your lips to his whilst your hands snaked their way into his hair. Salt mixed with the taste of his tongue but you wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him closer. A rumble echoed in his chest as his length pressed against you and he straightened, yanking you up with him. Spinning you around, Cato backed you up until you hit the wall with a bump. As his lips trailed down to your neck, you rested your head against the wall, back arching when Cato sucked on the sweet spot just below your ear.

"I love you," his lips traced the words down to the valley between your breasts before he wrenched the top over your head and threw it behind him.

Left hand reaching up to palm at your breast, his mouth wrapped around the nipple on the other one, tongue flickering over the hardened bud. Your breath hitched and you used your foot to deftly push the towel down and finally reveal what had been hidden from you. Exclaiming in shock, you scowled when Cato chuckled against you. When you reached down to grasp him, he gently bit your nipple but the action forced your hips against his and with one roll, he brushed against your clothed clit.

"Off," you begged, lifting your hips slightly away from the wall so that Cato could slide them down your shaky legs.

Fingers dancing along your legs, he reached down to cup your heat and one finger slid between your wet walls.

"I will never get sick of this," he groaned, watching as you bit your lip in pleasure.

Thumb rubbing your clit, he added another finger, watching as they plunged in and out of your slick heat. His name tumbled off your lips as your pleasure increased and Cato knew that that would be his favourite sound. If there was one sound that could banish the nightmares and dispel the darkness, it would be you crying his name as you tumbled over the edge, coating his fingers. Panting slightly, you pushed him away, revelling in the confused look on his face.

As you sunk to her knees, lust clouded his blue eyes until they were as dark as the sea in District Four on a stormy day. Hand wrapping around the base, you smirked as he hissed when your tongue licked a stripe from balls to tip. Mouth wrapping around his tip, you moved down ever so slightly before pulling back up. Hollowing your cheeks out, you sucked gently on his tip and was rewarded with a throaty groan as Cato bucked his hips, pushing his cock deeper into your mouth.

"So good to me, baby." Cato cursed, hand resting on your head as he pushed you down a little more.

Humming around him, you gagged when he jerked slightly and his dick hit the back of your throat. One hand gently fondled his balls and Cato swore before pulling himself away from you.

"As much as I love your mouth wrapped around me, I'd rather put my cock somewhere else."

Shivers skittered down your spine as his husky words were whispered in your ear and you found yourself being pulled of your knees before you were shoved against the wall face first. Large hands gripped your hips hard enough to bruise and you smiled knowing Cato remembered just how you liked it.

"Always so tight for me," he grunted as he slid into you.

Cheek pressed against the cold concrete wall, you whimpered as your walls adjusted to the girth of him. Teasingly, he slowly entered inch by inch until his impatient girl backed up and enveloped the entirety of him in one quick movement. One hand braced on the wall, small grunts escaped his mouth as h thrust gently into you. Lips pressing a gentle kiss to the scarred back of his hand, you rested your head against his hand in a loving gesture. A primal instinct ignited in Cato at the sight of his partner so small and vulnerable, as you let down your guard and opened yourself up to him both emotionally and physically. The woman beneath him was always so strong and fierce that he couldn't help the dark chuckle that escaped as his body encompassed yours entirely as he pressed you further into the wall.

"Such a good girl. Take me so well," he praised, enjoying the little pants that left your mouth and with a shift of his hips, he coaxed a scream from you.

Unable to help the moans that tumbled from your mouth, you reached down to grab the hand that gripped your hip and pulled you against his cock. Love swelled within him as you held on tightly to him, begging him to go faster as you pleaded for her impending orgasm.

"I love you," you cried as stars exploded across your vision and your walls clenched him tightly.

At the feel of your orgasm, Cato burrowed himself in deeper and pounded harder into your sensitive walls.

"So close, Princess." Cato gasped, his breath hitting the back of your neck as he leaned down to rest his chin on your shoulder. Pressing a kiss to the side of your neck, his movements quickened as he sought release.

"Cum in me," you begged.

Not one to deny the woman he loved, Cato called your name as he stuffed himself inside you, hot cum painting your walls. Sensitive to his touch, you leaned back into his chest as his arms came around your waist and pulled you in for a loving embrace. One hand wrested flat on your belly as he whispered promises of having their own family but in a world where the Hunger Games didn’t exist. Naked and wrapped around one another, you could pretend for just a moment that you were a normal couple whose only issues were what to eat for dinner and how many children you wanted. Whimpering as Cato pulled out of you, you watched him wander into the bathroom in search of a washcloth.

Hand resting on your own abdomen, you wondered whether you would have end up with child. And, for the first time in your life, you found herself hoping you would. Struck by the aching pang within you, you realised that the life you had built with Cato had made you realise just how badly you craved a perfect family with the man you loved. In a world where they grew up safe and never needing to learn the ways to kill another person. 

________________________________________________________________

Loosely based on a scene from my Cato x OC story but details have been adapted to avoid spoilers. You can find the book Pugnator at;

Wattpad

Fanfiction.Net

[sortasirius]

“Inherit the Earth” and the Fakeout

Absolutely genius.  Amazing, iconic, legendary, something only our showrunner Andrew Dabb can pull off.

"But Lilly, the episode was so bad!  It was just the brothers, they didn’t look for Cas and Eileen!”

YES.  THAT IS EXACTLY THE POINT.  THIS WAS A FAKE ENDING, THE END OF THE SEASON, NOT OF THE SERIES.

Let’s get into it.

An empty world.  No one left but Sam, Dean, and Jack.

So Dean ran, he somehow managed to pick himself up off the floor of the dungeon and meet up with Sam and Jack.  That jacket was this silent reminder.  Remember what I’ve been saying, Cas has occupied the negative space all season, this is no exception.

Dean can’t look either of them in the face, he’s doing that thing, where his eyes move everywhere BUT where he should look. 

“I couldn’t save anybody.”

Sam couldn’t save the world and Dean couldn’t save the one person that means the world to him.

“Where’s Cas?”

“Dean?”

I think it’s there, in that pause where Dean tries to push down the emotions, continue the fight, not think about the memories he left in the bunker, that Jack realizes what must have happened. Jack is the only one that knows about the deal, he has to know what Cas not being there must mean.

“He saved me.  Billie was coming after us.  Cas summoned the Empty.  It took her...and took him.  Cas is gone.”

This may shock you, but I am GLAD they didn’t talk about Cas, especially with what happens at the end of the episode.  Cas is allowed to just take up unsaid space.  It’s obvious he’s missing with the way they blocked things, obvious he’s missing here.  This whole “oh well they don’t care about Cas because they didn’t talk about him”?  Malarkey.

“Jack I’m sorry.”

Guilt.  Regret.  Pain.  Dean will carry this with him for the rest of his life.  Not only that he lost Cas, but that Sam lost Cas, that Jack lost Cas.

That SHOT, with the distance between Jack and Sam where Cas is SUPPOSED TO BE, and then a zoom out to...THE WORLD.

Okay, as usual, Bucklemming has the subtlety of a sledgehammer lmao.

Jack crying???  Praying to Cas????  Bruh?????

Also it’s just straight-up frightening for everything around my boy to die he is my baby son.

Also not to point out the incredibly obvious, but Dean starts drinking immediately, and continues drinking throughout the whole episode.  Grief arc 2.0 babey.

“We can what, Dean?  There’s no one left to save!  Everybody’s gone!”

“You can’t just give up.”

“What other choice do we have!”

Idk why, but for Sam, who’s the constant, the one who’s always had hope, through everything, through all these years, when he finally says this, when he finally loses his hope?  It hits the hardest.  Sam is the leader, so not only is he grieving the loss of Eileen, he is a general grieving the loss of his soldiers, his friends, the world that he feels the duty to save.

When they go to meet Chuck, I just can’t get that image of Dean, leaning against the car, handprint still on his jacket, staring at the ground out of my head.  It takes him a few seconds to catch up to Sam, like he’s pulled out of thoughts like deep dark water.  Remember friends, it doesn’t have to be loud to be powerful.

Chuck wearing BLACK?  FEAR.

“That’s right, the whole Cain and Abel thing.  Us dead, whatever.  I’ll kill Sam, Sam’ll kill me, we’ll kill each other.  Okay, you pick.  But first?  You gotta put everything back the way it was.  The people, the birds...Cas.  You gotta bring him back.”

Willing to kill his brother.  Willing to die.  Tears in his eyes, begging God to bring Cas back.

And Chuck?  Chuck doesn’t care about their surrender, he knows he’s already got them beaten.  He cares about their pain, he cares about them suffering, because to him?  That’s the entertainment.  He’s not entertained by their found family, by their happiness, by their joy.  He wants them to suffer, all of them.

“Eternal shame.  Suffering.  And loneliness.”

And he leaves them with just that.  No hope, no family, just the three of them, broken, alone.  Jack locked in his bedroom, Sam trying desperately to make life “normal” again.  And Dean.  Dean who drank so much he passed out on the floor.

He doesn’t feel terrific, he feels like shit, because not only is he dealing with the shame of an empty planet, he’s dealing with the guilt of being back in the place where the Empty took Cas.

This whole thing with the dog was just absolutely heartwrenching shit and if I didn’t hate Chuck before, him snapping Miracle right in front of an already fragile Dean would seal that deal.

I just want everyone to know that this is a Jake Abel stan account.

“Daddy’s boy” is a big insult for my boy Dean to use considering his own past with his trash abusive father but I’ll allow it.

I do think it’s interesting, ending of his arc aside, that Michael is willing to help them now.  What changed?  Sure, he ended up trying to help Chuck, running back to his father, but why get back in the game?  I wonder if it has anything to do with the loss of Adam.  It’s an interesting parallel, a man loses his angel while an angel loses his human.

Everything is so DARK in the Bunker now too, even the lighting is loud.

When I tell you I lost my shit when I saw Cas was calling Dean, when I heard Misha’s voice??  I knew it didn’t make any sense but I didn’t care, I would’ve been one step behind Dean as he sprinted towards the door.

Fuck you, Eugenie.

I mean it’s torture not only to Dean, who looks beyond fucking crushed when it’s damn Lucifer at the door, but for us too.  Who the FUCK wanted Lucifer back?  And to tease Cas???  Garbage.

I mean...fam.  Listen, we know who’s writing this episode, this whole Betty thing is just like blatantly unnecessary but again, Eugenie loves Lucifer, gotta distract her with a shiny toy lmao.

It was cool to see Michael and Lucifer onscreen together.  It was a cool dynamic that we rarely got to see.

The whole episode is just twist after twist.  Listen, it’s their last episode so I guess they needed to fit in a season worth of twists in one episode.

Bye Lucifer.  We know Eugenie can’t bring him back.  Blessings to all.

This scene with Adam is the FOURTH scene where Dean is drinking...big yikes to my guy’s liver.

Here’s the thing about Michael.  He’s a mirror for Dean in season 5.  Loyal to an absent father.  He has never changed, but Dean has.  Dean is able to acknowledge now, the trauma that his father put him through, he was able to move past the need for pleasing him at any cost.  Michael and Chuck?  Are John and Dean, if Dean had never been allowed to grow.  And Chuck proves, like John did, that he would always put his wants (in John’s case “the mission”) over his children.

Also not to beat a dead horse but Michael’s death was also peak Eugenie.

Sam getting to punch Chuck in the face?  Thank you, he deserves that.

Obviously I don’t love any scene of my boys getting brutally beaten.  But what I love, what I will always love about them, is what Chuck hates about them:  they won’t ever give up.  They know they won’t win against him, they don’t even land any hits, but that’s not what matters.  What matters is their controller doesn’t control them anymore, that they really are free.  No matter how hard they get hit, the get back up.  It is their choice to stand up to him, no matter the cost.

The moment where Sam and Dean are supporting each other, covered in blood, and they look God in the face, and they laugh.  That is why I will love them unconditionally for the rest of my life.  That is who they are, they will never cow to the villain, whether that’s Azazel or Alastair or Zachariah or Lucifer or Amara or Death or Metatron or Cain or God.  They will always choose to stand up.

“Why are you smiling?”

“Because.  You lose.”

Chills.  What a line.

And Chuck is left, small, human, no longer a villain, no longer anything.

Gotta be real, woulda been nice to, idk, not see all this essential plot in a flashback, but I know I can only ask so much of Bucklemming.

For Dean to walk away from killing Chuck, right after he’s called him “the ultimate killer” is quite simply the most beautifully heartwrenching thing I could ever ask for.  Because that’s who Dean was under Chuck, that’s who Chuck wanted him to be.

And he would have before:

But he’s heard some things since then, heard some things about how others see him.  Not as the killer, not as a monster, not as angry and broken or his daddy’s blunt instrument:

I’m not saying that Dean doesn’t kill Chuck for Cas.  He doesn’t kill Chuck because he doesn’t think he has to anymore, he doesn’t kill Chuck because he listened to Cas, he took Cas’ words to heart.  He made the choice not to be the killer.

“See that’s not who I am, that’s not who we are.”

And Chuck is angry, because he thought, after everything, even after losing, that he would still know Dean well enough to know that he would kill him.  But Chuck has never really known Dean, he has never understood where he’s really come from.  Cas understood, Sam and Jack understand, but Chuck never did, and writing off Dean as angry and broken is his biggest mistake, because that’s never been Dean.

“It’s not his power anymore.”

And it’s not just his physical power, it’s his power over the story, over the boys that’s the real power taken from him.

For Jack to be the one to bring everyone back, for him to be the hero of the story?  That’s poetic right there.  Now, I will say, I don’t think this story ends with him as God, because for him, the child, to take on this burden, it doesn’t make a ton of sense to me for his arc, but we shall see next week.  It felt pretty tied up, but there’s one major loose end: and that’s Jack seeing Cas again.

“Just you and me, going wherever the story takes us.  Just us.”

“Finally free.”

This doesn’t feel triumphant to me, it doesn’t feel like relief.  It feels like they’ve settled, like this is the best they’re going to get, so they might as well make the best of it, at least they have each other.

For Cas and Jack to be carved into the table?  I cry.

And for the montage, very similar to “Swan Song” to be set to “Runnin on Empty”?  Sorry but that’s just too sus to be ignored.

They packaged this episode as an ending, because for many, it might be.  The season’s story, the season about fighting Chuck is over.  So, you might be asking (or, well, screaming, judging by my replies lol), what’s left?  And that’s a good question, Chuck has been defeated, so what is left?  What’s left is what’s really mattered all season: the relationships that have been crafted over the years.  Dean and Sam’s unhappiness at the end of the episode, where “just you and me” sounded more of a grudging acceptance than anything else, is one of the clues that has to be looked at.  Why didn’t Sam find Eileen, why didn’t Jack bring back Cas?  Those two characters specifically are the ones we need to watch out for.  As I’ve said over and over again, peace, contentment, satisfaction, those don’t come from Sam and Dean on the open road together anymore.  They have a family, more of a family than they did when they started hunting together all those years ago, and that family is what holds them together.  They need each other, of course, but each other isn’t enough anymore.  Sam needs Eileen, Dean needs Cas.  That is where they will find their peace.

This episode, as many written by Bucklemming was sloppy, rushed, packed full of shit, and had little gems that we can talk about forever, but that was the end of the season, and next week?  Andrew Dabb brings us home, where Dean and Sam will finally be able to choose what they want for themselves, and that, my friends, is Eileen and Cas.