#especially with anything regarding the empires

[artistdove]

I had a vision ٩(๑òωó๑)۶. Randomly thought up the idea of a Smash Bros/Fighter game but with the Hermits. DLC would include potential Empires peeps and the Life Series members.

Each fighter has a moveset referencing some iconic bits from their hermitcraft playthrough like Grian's use of TNT, Cub's vex, and more. Final hits are also tide to particular events like Gem's head dungeon or Doc's Goat machine. The assists are mobs, player/mob characters (Jelly), or items. Skins could also slightly alter the final hit as I think that would be interesting atop of skin re-texture. Battle locations are Hermit bases or events, Ren's castle with his and Grian's side on the top cheering or a TGC battle area.

[themisteriousentity]

"Golden Deer is boring though it's lackluster, the characters aren't as strong as the other paths there's less conflict-"

You fool. You absolute buffon. Golden Deer is perfectly designed. Not only does it feed into the whole "alliance" theme well by having the characters still work together despite their differences and feelings well before hitting those A supports, but it's ALSO the only route that actually puts the focus on YOU the player. Or, rather, Byleth themself

Black Eagle is about whether or not you can agree to Edelgard's ideals of acceptable sacrifice and perspective that there's only 1 way to do things. The branching happens when you decide whether or not you agree, but ultimately it just explores opposing or agreeing with Edelgard. Anything more than that is really just incidental to that main concept, whether it's Crimson Flower or Silver Snow, the entire time you're focused either on helping Edelgard achieve her goals or you're focused on showing her how wrong she is alongside the Black Eagles who think it's their duty to correct Edelgard's wrongs (and I have a whole separate thing in regards to how the cast acts in Crimson Flower verses Silver Snow). It works really well for characters designed around an empire, a domineering form of government where (usually) a singular ruler determines the course and focus

Blue Lions is focused entirely on working on past issues and learning to bring yourself into the present, but it's done almost entirely through the cast more than the player. The Blue Lions themselves all have their own traumas and deep-seated past issues that hinder or help progress. While both Blue Lions and Black Eagles have a lot in common when it comes to traumatized characters and ideology, the ideology is front and center, while in Boue Lions, their interpersonal conflicts are front and center. This shows especially in the final (non romance) scene, where Dimitri decides that his personal attachment to Edelgard and past memories still matter, and he reaches out a hand, despite her immediately trying to kill him. It's fitting for a route designed around a kingdom, which is usually built entirely on interpersonal dealings between the ruling class

Golden Deer, however, is designed very differently. Unlike the other 3 routes, the player, or more specifically Byleth, is put as the driving force instead of the Lord. And this is actually what makes Golden Deer such a good route and one with the best ending of all of them. Claude has ideals, but he isn't a person who wants to force others to follow his path like Edelgard. Claude has lived a life of strife where his past motivates him, but it doesn't chain him the same way it does Dimitri. Instead, he works on understanding everyone around him and working together towards agreed upon goals, while taking on stuff that isn't agreed upon onto himself. But more than that, while all the Lord's value your opinion, Claude is the only one who actually takes what Byleth wants (rather than just what they think about specific matters) into consideration for his plans. Repeatedly you tell Seteth in Silver Snow that you don't want to kill Edelgard, but he pushes that you have no choice. Pretty much the entire first half of Azure Moon is Dimitri ignoring you. And in Crimson Flower, you've all but completely submitted to Edelgard's will with a couple of exceptions (which actually proves my point because it's specifically in regards to the Golden Deer because you can fight the entirety of Crimson Flower while sparing all of them except for Judith). But in Verdant Wind, Claude doesn't hide that he has a problem with the church and wants Rhea gone. In Golden Wildfire, without Byleth, he's more than happy to just get rid of her without a second thought. But when Byleth is the protagonist, he goes out of his way to accommodate your wants into his plans and goals. When you express as the player that you want to reason with Edelgard and ponder if you can't walk the same path, Claude agrees with you and says he'll make it happen if he can, with the other Golden Deer mostly agreeing. When that,can't happen you both lament the fact that Edelgard gave you no choice together. He makes finding Rhea a priority, mostly because as curious as he is in general, he wants to help you find out answers only Rhea can give you. And all of the Golden Deer do this to some extent, with each other but also with you as the player. I think Hilda and Marianne's A supports with Byleth show this best personally, but that's a personal opinion. And it just works so well for a route designed around the idea of an alliance, people coming together and agreeing to work towards a goal bigger than themselves

And that's not to say the other routes aren't as good as Golden Deer, they're all equally well written, but it just makes me sad when I see people giving the Golden Deer route grief just because the characters aren't the same when it does its theme so beautifully

[yandere-wishes]

𝕆𝕦𝕣 ℙ𝕣𝕖𝕥𝕥𝕪 𝕃𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕝𝕖 𝔾𝕚𝕣𝕝

Summary: You try to escape from two fearsome Sith Lords. Surprisingly they take it rather well.

Author's note: This is totally getting a part 2. Or maybe a series we'll see. 

Warnings: dark, absolutely no regard for the rule of two, sorta a vent fic (venting that these two are so fine and I can't get them out of my mind), slightly fluffy.

The empire's warships have a tendency to blur reality. The interiors of their large hulking exoskeletons house endless corridors and makeshift chambers. Vast, endless arrays of space. They've been optimized for housing droids, clones, and artillery. Not for escape, not for an endless search of a freedom that has long since eroded. 

Calling yourself anything but desperate would be a lie. Your feet run to the chorus of your broken heartbeat. The need for freedom, the need to escape spreads through your body like a poison. You know it'll end up killing you, either from exhaustion or by their sabars. But you have to try, you have to run. Even if you've left fragments of yourself in the warm bed the three of you sleep on. Even if you forgot your heart under Anakin's pillow and your soul still lingers in Maul's warm embrace. Maybe freedom is worth cutting off pieces of yourself, if only in the hope that someday they might grow back. 

There's something wrong with the corridors you're sure of it. You've never been one for directions, instead relying on the holo screens and navigation systems to lead the way. Mirror images as far as the eye can see. Identical, plain. Nothing substantial to store in your memory. There's something ironic about this situation, a punchline that doesn't quite land. You half haphazardly tug on the skirt of your nightgown, desperate for anything familiar. You're not sure why.

You remember how Anakin called you pretty this morning, still hazy, still clinging to the sensation of slumber. Perfect blue eyes too dazed to look at you. Really look at you. The chosen one gazes at your ghost, your ethos. the perfect doll he and Maul had morphed you into. Behind you

 Maul pulls you to his chest. Hand running up and down her side, trying to resurrect you into his dreams. It's only when Anakin's eyes close, seeling the shimmering blue orbs, that you crawl out of bed and into the unknown. 

You're lost, abandoned in absolute desolation. The marble tiles bleed frost into the soles of your feet. Somewhere in the distance, you feel a disturbance in the force. Too far away to matter, yet leaking with a potent rage that burns. It's hope you think, albeit pathetically, maybe it's better to capitulate this pointless crusade and wait for the Sith lords to find you. The crash comes just as you're about to stop. You bump into him, falling in the process. All armor and steel. The Stormtrooper's mask is off giving you a clear view of his scarred face. His eyes flash, some dreary emotion too obscure to read, he offers you a gloved hand, something human something casual. 

You stare frozen. 

When exactly did you stop comprehending human idiosyncrasies? 

When exactly did you start reading every interaction as a threat? 

He's a monster, you think, just like the ones you've been warned about. Lectured time and time again by both Anakine and Maul. Monsters pry on little girls, especially ones who wander off on their own. Monsters lurk behind unsuspecting walls, ready to pounce when their prey approaches. You wonder if, the definitive definition of "monster" could be passed on to the two Siths who call themselves your lovers. 

There's blood, too crimson to be real. Metallic aromas wafted through the air. You've only now noticed how close the disturbance in the force really is. Close enough to distinguish itself. To reveal that, in actuality, it's not a disturbance at all.

 It's two...

Something cold yanks at your forearm. Pulling you to your feet. for a split second, your nerves calm. The familiarity of the cybernetic arm grants you a heavy ease. Anakin pushes you over to where Maul is standing. Golden eyes burning holes through the stormtrooper's armor. 'He didn't do anything' you long to say. But the words wisely die on your tongue as Maul grips your shoulders. Anakine's saber is lit, stabbing through the soldier's armor as if it were flesh. As if killing him where as easy as killing a rogue thought. "You're quite a foolish soldier for daring to touch that which belongs to your commanders. Even more imbecilic for so much as looking at emperor Palpatine's disciple." 

Maul's grip on your shoulders tightens, eyes never once leaving the bloodshed. One of his hands instinctively roams to your belly, then slides down to your thigh. Rubbing it ever so gently as his claws pierce your soft skin. You close your eyes trying to make yourself smaller. You hate how his touch grounds you. How the familiarity plucks at your heartstrings. When he touches you like this you wish you would forever rot in his arms.

"'I'm sorry" You don't know why the words come so easily. As if they've been itching to spill from your tongue. Maybe it's easier to say 'I'm sorry' rather than 'You've broken my perception of love, of reality and now I can only find comfort in your darkness.' "Hush" Maul's anger spills with every syllable. His claws dig deeper, earning him a pained hiss from his doll. 

"You're not sorry, in fact, you rather enjoyed this didn't you? Running away making us chase you down, I never thought your species would enjoy being the prey so much, little one." Anakin walks over, saber seethed at his side. His every step promised pain, retribution. He's angry, furious. They both are, you wonder if maybe, just maybe, they'll end it all today. 

Maul's chambers have always been a testament to Dathomir, bathed in deep scarlets and endless ebony. You wonder if he's homesick for a place he's only visited in his worst ephialtes. After the incident in the corridors, they drag you back to the Zabrak's room. Neither bothering to say a word. Merely permitting their rage to engulf you, subduing you into submission. It's an unwelcome surprise when they begin to prep for the day. Throwing on their black cloaks, prior to choosing your outfit. An abnormal affinity settles across the room. Too unnerving to go unchecked. 

They dress you each morning, a ritual you think, some attestation of love that's never been quite right. Maul drapes you in velvet dresses. Each one harbors a sui generis softness that sits erroneously across your skin. Their opulent sensation only brings forth feelings of aversion and despair. Their softness an ode to your imprisonment. 

the dresses come in shades of crimson, detailed sometimes in black, sometimes in gold, and sometimes in a frigid blue that sends shivers running up your spine. 

Anakin fusses over your accessories, why they feel the need to dress you so extravagantly daily is beyond you -as you've come to realize many things are- On days when Anakin's hubris reaches its apex, he bathes you in gold. Astonishing glittering collars across your neck and Kuat bangles hanging from your wrists. When he's sober from his pride he chooses black diamonds. Simple and exotic. scintillate and opaque.

Allusions to the dark side.

A hidden reference that crawls inside you. 

Once, back when you'd been sure defiance was still an option. Back when callow hope still dared to flow through your veins. Back when you'd been a jejune, stubborn thing. You had refused to wear one of the dresses they'd bought. Adimant in your refusal until Maul had stuck out his hand. Summoning the Force to remind you just who held the supreme authority here. 

The Force had strangled you, clawing hungrily at your neck. You felt your bones caving in on themselves, watched with exacerbating hysteria as your feet abandoned the floor. He'd only released you when he was sure you were near death's adorned door. Permitting you to molder on the floor akin to a ragdoll. 

Anakin had chastised you after you'd conjured enough strength to sit up, gasping greedily for air. He'd broken two fingers that day. One still harbors a small scar.

A Promise ring. 

An augury.

There are days, few and far between. When they've deemed you've been behaving adequately for long enough. That they permit you the choice of which dress you'd fancy wearing for the day. It's a rare event, reserved as a special treat. You think it's their way of proposing variety, giving you the illusion of choice. Making you feel a little less smothered. 

Today is not one of those days. Today, you feel them pick you apart, only to reassemble you in their image. Drowning you in extravagance. A reminder, one whose deprecating nature weaves itself within your muscles. You, little girl, are nothing more than a doll. And dolls should know their place.

No sooner do you feel the final lace fasten across your back, that Anakin is tugging you outside the door. Metal arm clasped around your forearm. 

Maul follows behind molten gaze locked on your face. The hallways bend to their will as if the walls themselves quiver with their presence. You recognize this corridor, recognize the frigid forlorn. 

There's something wrong with Emperor Palpatine's throne room. It's surreal, makeshift. His real throne lays somewhere cold, somewhere even his apprentices don't dare wander off to. The ironclad throne has never felt right. Never felt like it held any real power. Just terror, just dread, just hatred. But here it is in all its glory. Left to two apprentices who'd rather treat it as a toy than a sacred place.

 Anakin dramatically throws himself onto the throne. One leg thrown over the armrest as he leans against the other. His other leg planted firmly on the ground. He keeps you steady on his thigh. Torturing you with his distant, disappointed look. Maul stands in front of you. His eyes liquid gold melting into you. You see the galaxy in them. Hear it whispearing secrets meant to be forgotten. It's Anakin's voice that rattles you from your disjointed thoughts. 

"You caused us so much worry angel" he's being nice. You don't trust that. There's something sinister plaguing his words.  

"You know Ani, she may cease escaping if you'd cease to spoil her." Maul leans down, gripping your chin and squeezing. " The brat forgets her place, merely cause you'd rather coddle her than discipline her." 

Anakin glares, a shift in his eyes, blue bleeding into gold. "Hmm, Maul, you're starting to sound an awful lot like Kenobi right now."

"Why's that? Did the old fool tend to also point out your shortcomings?" 

You wonder who this Kenobi is, as you watch the Siths' exchange crude childish vitriols. Maybe he'd make a better lover than the two men you have the misfortune of being adhered to. 

They never could truly see just how similar they were.

Two sides of the same coin. 

One born of copper, the other, black rose petals.

Subconsciously you reach out. Grasping Anakin's robotic hand, fiddling with the panel, peeling it away to gain access to the wires and circuits. You have a bad habit of ripping things open. Anakin learned this the first time he kissed you and you tried to gnaw at his chest with your nails. Not in malice, but rather to satisfy a ravenous curiosity. A raging need to open him and see just how he ticked. You'd wished to perform an autopsy on his soul. Rip him open and devour all his secrets. Back then you'd wondered if you could kiss sunrises into Anakin's eternal night. Strip him of bleak blackened skies and introduce him to stars and a moon that shines. He'd only vaguely permitted it. Opting to pluck the stars lying within you. Swiping them for steel and lava and other mundane things that fueled his incessant rage. 

Anakin's head dips, lips pressing on your jugular vein. "You're ethereal" Anakin mubbles against your skin, like the dying prayer of a collapsing star. He's so pretty when he kisses your neck. Biting away pieces of you. Stealing your light for himself. 

"Princess" Maul seethes venom pelting from his words. You realize you'd been ignoring him. Something he's not too fond of. "What in the stars was going through your pretty little head?" 

 he looks like he'd love nothing more than to wring your pretty little neck right now. "I just..." your words feel heavy. Tiny bullets polluting your tongue. It feels so cruel to say when you know just how much they love you. "I just wanted some freedom. Just a bit of space." 

"Dumb little angel" Anakin chastes. You lower your head in embarrassment watching Maul kneel in front of you. He cups your cheeks, placing a soft kiss on your head. "You can never escape us beloved".

 "I love you," says Anakin. All you hear is, I'll haunt you, I'll break your ribs one by one so that I may possess your heart. Maybe they mean the same thing. 

"And I'm pretty sure if Maul could feel normal emotions like everyone else, then he'd love you too." You can't help but let out a giggle as Anakin throws his head back laughing. A rare melodious sound, that causes your heart to skip a beat. Maul merely rolls his eyes before pecking you on the lips.

You trace your fingers across Maul's chest, feeling the pummelling of two hearts. A double heartbeat. Two melodies entwined, You wonder who he harbors in those hearts. One for love and one for family. You nip at his bottom lip. Ushering the blood into your mouth. He tastes of Ichor and smoke. Of sadness and rage. From behind you feel Akanin bite into the hollow of your flesh. Leaving traces of himself upon your skin. 

"Our pretty little problem" Anakin mumbles. 

You're a problem, a vexation draped in velvet, an unsolvable equation. Trapped between a love that seethes through your body like a toxin. Engulfing you until your mind relents. Maybe it's easier this way. Easier to say 'I love you' without the double entendre. 

You do love them.

A rather arduous conclusion to reach.

Maul and Anakin.

Palpatine's apprentices. 

Your lovers

Yeah, that sounds about right...

💜💜: @athanasia-day @hotpinkboots @jenn-patterson-69 @nickiiiixoxo-blog @the-chains-are-the-easy-part

[txttletale]

Hey can you explain why so many MLs support DPRK? Like I get that any enemy of the West is probably less bad than Westerners are told, but it's still a hereditary dictatorship! That alone seems like a good reason to strongly oppose its current government even if they do have good trains and are ostensibly "communist" in the face of Western aggression or whatever. It seems like one of the goofiest tankie positions, which I say as someone who's generally sympathetic to a lot of ML arguments.

sure. let's start by drilling down into what 'support' or 'oppose' means--in the vast majority of the world, a marxist-leninist's "support" for the DPRK is in fact neglible. obviously we are not, say, sending the DPRK weapons, or volunteering our labour en masse, or anything that would constitute real material support--because there is nowhere in the world except the DPRK (and perhaps the ROK, but there is of course no organized marxist-leninist mass movement there) where that kind of support would be feasible. likewise, the most strident and pure of heart moral condemnation of the DPRK does not actually have any effect on how that nation is governed--the WPK don't care about your opinion!

so firstly we have to acknowledge that 'supporting' and 'opposing' the DPRK are not especially coherent concepts to apply to MLs (or anybody) in the vast majority of the world. as in all cases, the state you live under the jurisdiction of is the one you are most capable of meaningfully opposing or supporting! and--for most MLs across the world, that state is going to be a participant in the brutal United States sanction program against the DPRK. so when it comes to one's 'position' on the DPRK, as a marxist-leninist one shouldn't be thinking whether they wish to morally condone or endorse the DPRK, but rather what meaningful political struggle they can engage in as regards to the DPRK. and as it turns out, the most meaningful political struggle that marxist-leninists living within the reach of US empire can engage in wrt the DPRK is the struggle against the continued deliberate starvation of that nation and its people!

of course, there are many ways to participate in that struggle. but when it comes to ways to participate in that struggle solely by expressing facts or opinions (as in, the kind of "support" or "opposition" you will witness just by following social media feeds, which is what you're asking about)--debunking propaganda about the DPRK and emphasizing the humanity of its residents weakens the ideological base for continued sanctions, while loudly and proudly condemning it--even fairly condemning it, because of course every socialist project has its errors and wrongdoings--contributes to that ideological base.

tldr: if you live outside the DPRK, the only way you can meaningfully 'oppose' its government is by contributing, materially or in propaganda, to the constant USAmerican efforts to destroy it and replace it with something worse. likewise, the only way you can meaningfully 'support' it is by fighting against those very efforts--so of course, marxist-leninists in the world outside the DPRK are going to 'support' the DPRK, because what that means is fighting against the material sanctions regime and its ideological underpinnings

[stonedcoldfoxtarot]

How will home life be with your FS?

Pick A Card inspired by Michael Imperioli’s home, decorated by his wife Victoria Imperioli.

From Left to Right:

Pile 1 -> Pile 2

Pile 3 -> Pile 4

Pile 1

4oW, Strength, 3oC, Devil, 5oW, 2oP, 3oP, QoC, AoS, 3oW (10oP)

Your FS and you will build a strong foundation of love and respect, which will make your home life quite strong and everlasting. Your casa will be the place where people gather to celebrate milestones and birthdays, host dinner parties with friends and family and enjoy life’s sweetest moments. Your guests will feel welcomed and at ease in your home as you and your spouse always make them feel special. People will love spending time with both of you.

In the beginning of your marriage or cohabitation you and your spouse may argue or have heated disagreements, which may be quick and explosive, especially if one or more parties has been drinking. However, due to your strong bond and mutual attraction you will quickly make up and get back to working together as a team. You both highly value this connection and the life you have built together. Being honest and forthright with each other helps to bring the long-lasting peace and stability your marriage was built upon.

If you are the feminine energy in this connection, you will be regarded as the matriarch of the family and the person who holds things together (in a positive way). You will be honored and exalted for your ability to turn the family house into a beautiful, cozy, and welcoming home. You and your spouse will work together to ensure your home life remains comfortable as you age, weathering life's storms together and creating a solid foundation for generations to come.

Pile 2

6oP rev, 3oP, Wheel of Fortune, 3oW, 2oW, QoW rev, QoC, Justice, QoP rev, KoP (Lovers)

The feminine energy in this marriage may have a very rigid set of expectations which could be due to this being an arranged marriage or a relationship based on mutual financial interests or complimentary lifestyles. They may have been raised to no longer work once married and expect their spouse to take care of them. They may even demand a certain standard of living and be quite particular about money, expecting "Designer everything.” This person will not accept anything less.

The male partner in this connection, who comes from a similar background, has worked hard and focused on building a nest egg to care for and spoil his wife and kids. He may have codependency issues himself but he also has his own set of expectations from his wife. He concentrates all his time and attention on expanding his empire or acquiring wealth and expects his wife to be dutiful and attentive to his needs in return. Despite not being the most romantic marriage on the surface this couple compliments each other quite well and has great potential to go the distance. The home they share, which is lavish and luxurious, will provide endless love and comfort to all who enter. The love between them grows over time and blossoms into something fulfilling and expansive. This arrangement is peaceful and ideal for both partners.

Pile 3

Chariot, 8oC, Emperor, 10oP, 2oW, 2oP, Star, 4oP, 10oS rev, 6oC (KoW)

I see that your future spouse, who you may have walked away from in the past, has never stopped loving you or holding out for your return. They have worked on themselves and are not the same person you once knew, and if given another chance they would make sure to do things differently. This person will make a wonderful spouse and provider who focuses on giving you the family life of your dreams. They will make sure that the home they buy for you will be enough to support your growing family with room to take in your parents as they age. Family is really important to this person, and they want you to see from their actions that they are planning to stick around for the long run. You or your FS might be a cancer.

Your partner will take care of you in this connection by picking up extra shifts or bringing in money through several revenue streams so that you can stay home if you want or need. They will anticipate your needs and make it happen without you even having to ask. They consider their biggest role in this lifetime to be your partner and best friend and will do whatever it takes to make you happy. Together, you will have a strong and everlasting home life.

I’m hearing “I would take the stars out of the sky for you, there’s nothing in this world that I wouldn’t do.” Listen to Only U by Karri to know how they feel.

Pile 4

3oW, 6oW, Fool, 7oS, 9oW, KoS, QoS, Devil, Empress, 6oC (4oW)

The King and Queen of swords came up next to each other indicating that you and your FS may be air signs or have prominent air placements in your charts. You are counterparts who will move together in unison. You and your FS will have a prosperous and successful relationship and home life and may even go into business together or be very ambitious in your respective careers while building a considerable nest egg together.

You both compliment each other well however one of you could be more impulsive and instinctive while the other prefers being strategic and taking their time. Nonetheless, both of you will strive to safeguard and nurture this connection above everything else. There is also a strong sexual chemistry between the two of you and your future spouse will be highly attracted to everything about you. If you are a woman, they will want to get you pregnant right away and the sight of you carrying their baby will turn them on even more. They will relish watching you grow into motherhood and will want to get you pregnant over and over again (with your consent, of course). You both might have a pregnancy kink though so I don’t see you stopping them lmao. Rest assured, whether you have a large family or it's just the two of you, your home life with your spouse will be happy, joyous and prosperous. You will lack nothing.

Thanks for reading🔮✨

© 2023 stonedcoldfoxtarot. All rights reserved. Please do not copy, translate, edit or redistribute.

[lightwise]

“Remain calm. Cooperate. And you might survive.”

A character study on Dr. Emerie Karr

I’ve had a post about Emerie wandering around the back of my mind all season, but haven’t really been able to pull anything together yet that I felt would do her character justice. In addition, I believe there are other people who can speak to some of her position and experiences in a cult-like environment where she has been raised with bounded choices and lack of agency better than I can, but I will still touch on those things here a bit.

Many people have been frustrated at Emerie’s character, even going so far as to say they hate her for not acting in ways we wish she would and for working in the Empire, conducting horrific experiments, and going along with Hemlock’s plans. While I understand the frustrations, there is nothing that Emerie has done that truly exceeds anything that Crosshair or Cody or Wolffe ever did under the Empire, especially when considering that her actions and choices are all very firmly rooted in a very chaotic, traumatizing, and lacking environment that she was raised in. She may not have had a chip (we don’t know), but regardless, she has not been given the amount of free will and expansive thinking that her clone brothers and Omega experienced during the war and after. Even still, her Jango Fett genes are showing through, with a natural affinity and compassion for children tugging on her latent moral compass the more and more she is around them. 

“Remain calm. Cooperate. And you might survive.” We first meet Emerie in season 2, when Crosshair is transferred to Tantiss after killing Lt. Nolan. She notably uses his name immediately, and seems to have a slightly more caring nature to her than any of the other medical assistants (like Dr. Scalder) that we have seen on Tantiss. She is focused and seems content and dedicated to her work, but wants Crosshair to survive and not be harmed more than is necessary. She seems to have traces of both Tech and Dr. Hemlock in her, with a dedication to science and the tasks assigned to her, and a mind that is obviously adept and capable of accomplishing various procedures. While she follows all of Dr. Hemlock’s orders completely, she shows traces of compassion to Crosshair along the way, and begs him not to try and escape. At this point, her own access card doesn’t even allow her to get outside, and we’ve never seen her on any of the landing platforms. She seems to have an intimate knowledge of how impossible it is to escape the facility (has she tried to herself?)

“She is a clone. And therefore Imperial property.”  Hemlock is talking about Omega here, but the camera pans to include Emerie standing beside him, looking at him. This cinematography choice will occur several times, where dialogue from Hemlock or Omega is overlaid with a shot of Emerie’s face to show that comments about freedom and clones and specimens and choice all have double meanings that include Emerie, even if she has the supposed station and respect of a doctor’s position. At this point it is unclear whether she fully understands how she is just as much a prisoner inside these walls as Crosshair and the other clones are. 

“A prisoner? You are no such thing. It is far safer in here than it is out there.” This is but one of many times that Emerie uses the word “safe” in regard to being on Mt. Tantiss, following the rules, and doing what is expected. She comes to retrieve Omega every morning, mostly chipper and focused on including her in her tasks for the day. She shows care for Omega but is fully absorbed in her duties and what to her is normal daily life. An empty room that locks from the outside is probably the norm for her. For Omega, it is decidedly not, and Omega’s curious but justice-oriented nature begins to tilt the axis of Emerie’s perceptions. When first meeting her, Emerie acknowledges her as her sister and wants her to trust her. It’s clear that she maybe knew of Omega at some point, even though Omega had never heard of her until now. We get a slight glimpse of why that would be, when Emerie tells Omega that she was on Kamino initially but was “sent elsewhere until Dr. Hemlock took me under his wing.” There is a LOT embedded in that sentence. Sent away by Nala Se? Why? What was her initial purpose in being created? Why was she discarded? Was Omega a “better” version of her? Where did she go, and how and why did Hemlock find her and bring her up as his medical assistant, seeing “potential” in her. It’s obvious Emerie’s sense of self-worth, while relatively strong, also hinges on following Hemlock’s orders. All of this screams abandonment and grooming even if not of a sexual nature, and Emerie certainly seems to show the submissive, trusting, and yet fearful disposition one might expect from someone whose life has been defined by those circumstances. 

 “You don’t know she won’t survive. She deserves a chance.”  A conversation about letting a domesticated Lurca hound out into the wild to fend for herself is clearly paralleled with Emerie’s fate. Emerie tries to act as a mediator between Hemlock and Omega, hoping that the girl won’t be hurt or punished. Hemlock scoffs at Omega’s decision to let Batcher go, and her impassioned statement above. He sneers “the flawed logic of an idealistic child. Emotion and sentiment have no place within these walls. You would do well to remember that.” Emotion and sentiment have seemingly been lacking in Emerie’s upbringing, yet they continue to have an influence on her impulses and actions more and more. A testament to this is the fact that she keeps Omega’s straw Lula doll after it is found during a midnight room inspection, and eventually gives it back to her even though it breaks protocol. She will later keep this doll hidden after Omega escapes, and give it to one of the Vault “specimens”, Eva, in an attempt to comfort her. In that initial confrontation with Omega, Hemlock had added a final warning: “Actions always have consequences. Sometimes not in the ways we imagine.” What will this mean in the future for both him and Emerie? Their choices until recently have seemed in line and coherent, but they are diverging more and more.  

“It’s best not to ask questions.”  Emerie once again demonstrates the dichotomy of her perspectives as she affirms the authority and deference that she believes she owes Dr. Hemlock, while also being attentive to Omega’s shift in mood after being told by Nala Se that she must escape. Emerie tells Omega to get some rest, thinking she isn’t feeling well. There is no reason for her to do this other than the fact that she cares about Omega, as against protocol as those feelings are.  

“You’re not thinking clearly. Escape is not possible. This is for your own good.”  After finding Crosshair and Omega ready to escape through the Lurca hound tunnels, she begs both of them to see what to her is reason and sense. She doesn’t want either of them to get in trouble or be hurt, and would have covered for them if they would simply surrender and return to their cells. She affirms again that escape is not possible, from her perspective, and that what is best is quiet acquiescence. We see this continued struggle between her own budding moral compass, her sense of duty, her fear, her belief that it is safer to stay and to be quiet and to stay small. After they escape the facility, she finds out that Omega’s blood is the binder they have been looking for all along, and partly out of scientific duty, and partly knowing that this knowledge is the only thing that will save Crosshair and Omega’s escaping ship from being shot down, she informs Dr. Hemlock. 

“Do you trust me? I’ve spent years working by your side. I could be more useful.”  Before Omega is recaptured, we get an entire episode from Emerie’s POV (which also establishes her as a very important character for the remainder of the season). Here we begin to see more of her conflicted moral compass, and also her budding sense of self esteem. “You wish to be the new chief scientist Dr. Karr?” “I believe I’ve earned it.” This fully encapsulates the dynamic that these two “doctors” have shared over the years. Emerie knows that Hemlock only values things that are useful, and probably only sees her own value in the light of what she can contribute, due to how she was raised and the circumstances she has been trapped in. Hemlock’s tone of voice implies that he has never considered her as being the new chief scientist, and yet he acquiesces quite quickly, almost as though he’s just too busy to think about it and if it means things are brought back up to production standard then he’s fine with her taking Nala Se’s place. His utter disregard for Emerie as an actual human and someone with merit is disgusting, but to Emerie it comes across as respectful benevolence (as long as she follows the rules). It is good to see her start to stand up for herself, although she has no idea what she is getting herself into.  

“You’re safe SP-32.”  Emerie’s experiences watching over the children in the vault begin to chip away HARD at the beliefs she has grown up with and the perspectives she has kept herself sheltered behind. She initially tries to connect with one of the children, Eva, but Hemlock quickly stops her and tries to force his perspective that these are simply “scientific assets. Specimens.” The children defy this characterization at every turn. Eva compliments Emerie’s glasses, shares her name. Jax reiterates that his number is not his name when he tries to escape, and Emerie spends the entire sequence of him trying to escape torn, worried for him, and disgruntled at how violently Scorch and the other commandos treat him. Her conflict continues to grow as Eva asks how Jax is after the escape attempt, and she has to face her duplicity in telling Eva everything would be fine, when it is not. 

“They’re children. Like I was. Was your plan to discard them too?” Finally, Emerie confronts Nala Se, and we get more of a glimpse into the circumstances of her childhood. Emerie obviously carries enormous bitterness and resentment for however Nala Se treated her and the choice to abandon her in favor of Omega, and she throws this back in Nala Se’s face asking why the rest of the children in the Vault haven’t been protected either. “The Empire will keep them in order to control them” — once again a layered statement that includes Emerie’s own position. “They don’t belong in here” — Omega’s hopeful and determined perspective has gotten through to her on some level, just as it did with Crosshair. However, despite her growing sense of guilt and remorse, Emerie still feels powerless and at the mercy of her environment. “I don’t have that kind of power.” But Nala Se challenges her that she does, and that her choices going forward will need to be hers and hers alone. 

“And where did this child come from?”  Emerie starts to take small steps towards more independent choices when she insists on accompanying Scorch to pick up the next force sensitive child. Whether her plan was to try and fudge the results so he could be returned to his home, or just find out more information about how these children are procured and how many are being kidnapped, she can’t change the outcome of Bayrn being brought in. But her dismay at how young he is and how much worse this situation keeps getting is evident. Just as telling is Hemlock’s misinterpretation of her hesitation of taking in another “specimen.” He thinks she’s afraid of them harming her in an escape attempt. He doesn’t see that her personal convictions have started to become louder in her mind and heart than his commands and manipulation. She continues to take steps toward autonomy by comforting Eva, using the girl’s name, and bringing her Omega’s straw toy, that she had kept against orders. The situation is wearing on her more and more. But there’s hope for her yet.

“Emerie, you don’t have to do this.” Once Omega is back on Tantiss, Emerie retreats back into her shell a bit as Hemlock orders her to test Omega’s blood again. She knows what will happen and where Omega will be taken when the sample comes through, and she looks utterly defeated and cornered, sighing, her shoulders slumped like Crosshair’s when he was still imprisoned. Yet even as far as she’s come, she can’t see a way around completing this task. “I’m sorry, but I do.” She tries to soften the blow with “for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re safe.” But Omega is not having it. “Am I??” Emerie knows she’s not, sighing in fear and resignation again as Hemlock takes Omega away to the vault. She tries to console herself by giving the children better games to keep their minds engaged, and pointedly asserts her rank and decision to keep Omega in contact with the other children even when Dr. Scalder disagrees with her choice. Her confidence is still growing. Her sense of right and wrong is slowly becoming more and more defined. She is now starting to show a split front between her attempts to placate Omega vs. the questions and doubts that have been festering inside her. Will she finally be able to push through her fears and use her influence and position to help the children, the clones, Omega, and the Batch escape by the end? Or will she remain trapped in a life that she didn’t choose but that she has long since begun to question and pull away from?

Just like the rotating dial of test vials that she oversees every day, Emerie’s moral compass continues to inch closer and closer toward a resolution, until hopefully it will click fully into place. And when it does, Hemlock will (hopefully) regret every ounce of trust he’s ever placed in her. And Omega will hopefully be fully justified in the trust, pleas, and examples that she has been giving Emerie, her big sister, this whole time. Emerie’s sense of identity, justice, and conviction hang in the balance. She can be an agent of change for everyone’s fates, if she chooses to step into her own.  

✨ Tag List ✨

@drafthorsemath @freesia-writes @sunshinesdaydream @ladyzirkonia @jedizhi @the-little-moment @the-bad-batch-baroness @heyclickadee @burningfieldof-clover @dreamless-daydreamer

[lizzaneia-elizalde]

Male Yandere Adventurer x Female Magical Maiden Reader

Just imagine a man who’s on an adventure or is like a hunter or something, coming across a magical maiden bathing in a body of water, and he just has to make her his

I was inspired by all those beautiful water nymph/maiden oil paintings that I thought this would be a cool concept if reader darling was the magical one for a change. Or what if yandere also secretly had some magic blood in him!?

Thanks!!! 💝

Yandere! Male! Hero! Isekai'ed Adventurer x Fem! Elementalist mage! Reader

💝 ANON! I love this request so much because I love worldbuilding. Making your own lore to magical worlds is just-- ack!

This time, this world will be the same as Yan! Villain's world. Hope you don't mind me putting more elements to the fic.

Also, my ask box is going to be open again! Finally. Lol. :3

Yan! Isekai'ed Adventurer's name: Aeron

A great Adventurer. Someone who defeated the Demon King by his own hands without any help.

From a nobody to the Hero everyone looked up to, Aeron shot up through the ranks of the Empire.

Charismatic, brave, strong, and determined, Aeron was somebody people underestimated before.

After all, he just suddenly appeared one day. In the middle of the throne room, nonetheless.

Begging for his life, Aeron pleaded the Emperor to not put him in jail for trespassing the palace. So, with the Emperor looking to take advantage of this man, he assigned Aeron to kill the Demon King by himself.

"Isn't that suicide?"

Yes, it was.

But Aeron is desperate. So he agreed to the quest and set off with only a few copper coins, a sword, bow, shield, stale bread, and the clothes on his back.

He's legitimately sent to die.

Only a human. Without any powers, nor he didn't go to the gym that much to have the physical prowess to even have a chance of fighting back.

He was so scared. So small, so powerless in a world filled with unknown magic that he didn't encounter back in earth at all.

He's someone who hopped from party to party, as people only saw him as fodder, or they just scammed him of free labor. Then abandoned once they realized he's off to kill the Demon King.

He tried so hard.

So hard for people to take him seriously.

But all he received was ridicule, harsh words, and spits or beatings for the people who went too far.

Humans, all they cared about are themselves and nobody else.

Selfish, hateful, and evil.

Are they sure the Demon King is the evil one and not them?

His body screamed in pain everyday as he hiked alone and taken advantage of. His wounds severe, his leg cut off. He tried so hard to be so understanding, but what is there to understand of hearts so filled with vile intentions?

Revenge, he was fueled with it.

He wants to see blood, he wants to see them suffering for the suffering he got. Tenfold.

Hero? He was no hero as he cut off the head of the Demon King who was innocent, and didn't do anything wrong.

Does he feel bad?

He feels too bad for himself to feel bad for others.

Waving the head of the Demon King, he trudges back to the Palace. Throwing the head at the feet of the fearful Emperor. Aeron sighs, knowing everything is finally going to his direction as the Emperor grants him Marquess status, after kicking the previous Marquess for corruption.

As the hero, he was regarded as a celebrity. Everyone loved him, and everyone revered him. Those who wronged him before though, now boasts of being his ex-party mates, and that they were the best of friends. Singing praises as if they didn't sling hurtful words to his way before.

Let's just say, they ended up dead the next day for even trying to say those words.

There's only one person who genuinely helped Aeron.

A mage, living alone in the woods on the foot of the Demon King's castle. She's somewhat of an enigma, capable of holding off monsters from trying to invade the Empire, especially the Demon King himself. Sure, the King is innocent, but only because he was not successful in invading the Empire yet due to her.

And she was you.

Truthfully, you were only a bored, overpowered mage who decided to protect the Empire one day. You wield all the main elements in a precision that nobody has topped off before, and sub-elementals in a way that other master wizards only dream of wielding.

OP, sure, but you didn't care about other people's feelings.

So, how did Aeron meet you?

On the way to the top of the castle, he had to take a bath due to being rancid. Showered with monsters' blood left and right, he hadn't had a bath for so long too, focused on killing the Demon King and nothing more. He didn't even care about his leg being gone as he hopped towards the stream.

Then, he saw you. Beautiful, ethereal you.

Bathing under the moonlight, the water cascaded down your skin and onto your curves, and down to the stream once more. Your hair, wet, shines as if stars sparkled within them.

Then your eyes. Deep, sharp, bored.

He was captivated.

"Who are you?" You asked, not even looking at him as you continued to wield the stream's water to make a pseudo shower. "Do not look at me like that, lecher."

Aeron froze, embarassed.

"Ah no, I just... Want to take a bath too when I saw you."

Your gaze looked at him.

"I can see that you really need a bath."

Aeron flushed red once more.

You cracked your neck before standing up. Aeron's eyes followed your every movement as you went up to him.

He could feel his heart beat increase in speed.

Then, feeling an itch on his leg stump, his eyes widened as a grotesque yet mesmerizing event happened. His leg is reforming once more.

"How did you..." He flexed his leg, in awe.

"Take a bath, you smell bad." You dismissed him before going away.

"Your name! Miss..." He yells, eyes erratic.

"Y/N. See you around, future hero."

And you left with a bag of gold, a mana infused sword, bow with mana arrows, and a shield made of obsidian.

The complete opposite of the Emperor.

His heart raced once more as tears fell from his eyes.

The first act of kindness he received in this world.

He vowed to repay you, so he took a bath, and headed straight to the Demon King to fight.

Now, he's here to pay back the kindness you gave him.

And he just hopes you recognize the man in front of you.

Or else.

After helping the Duke Eros in the war and earning another victory in his belt, Aeron rested his body in his chateau once more.

He placed his arm over his eyes, sighing deeply.

little dancing black sprites danced all around him as the sun filtered through the arched windows. These sprites started following him after he defeated the Demon King, and now he wields them like how a magic user does. He's still completely magic-less, but thanks to the sprites, he got to wield magic.

It was sunset, and Aeron just got back from reporting to the Emperor who gloated about the fact that this Empire just won another war.

"That freak." He muttered.

The current Emperor, who just succeeded the previous Emperor who mysteriously died with black sprites latched on his body, was a warfreak who wanted to spread his territory for fun, and spills bloodshed for the thrill of it. He's just the same age as Eros and Aeron, but god is he a crazy motherfucker.

Aeron stood up, letting the sprites dance around his palm as he casted magic on his hand. The sprite absorbed into his skin, making his arm pitch black with his veins dying the dark color. Creeping up to his arm.

"Portal."

The spatial frame cracked, forming a what looked like a broken glass opening.

It opens to the forest, the foot of the Demon King's castle.

His heart rate picked up once more.

He stepped forward, entering into the portal and being teleported into the forest.

One thing he got from the war he was forced to join is a ring with a jewel the same color as your eyes. One with an intricate carving and a unique design. As if veins popped out of the jewel, which was the centerpiece. It's embedded with fae magic that Aeron hopes is useful for you.

His steps heavy, the crunch of the leaves under you filled his ears. He's quiet, even his breathing light and seemingly not there. His time in the war, and fighting different beasts after the Demon King trained his body to perfection.

He stopped in front of the stream once more, a sense of dejavu knocked into him as he watched you bath once more there.

The moonlight filtered through the much bigger trees and into you below. You were much more magnificent than he remembers.

He gulped, itching to touch you, kiss you, feel you.

He felt pent up. But he knows that he should stop himself.

"*ehem*, my lady." He said, back straight and chest out. His eyes sparkling with warmth. "Remember me?"

You, startled as you didn't feel a presence, whipped your body towards him. A stark contrast to how you reacted before.

But, he felt his stomach drop when you looked at him all confused.

"Who are you?"

He suddenly clammed up.

Sweat started to riddle his face, eyes wide with betrayal.

This...

"I'm the person you helped before, my lady. The one without a leg?"

You hummed.

"I don't really recognize you..."

He started to breath heavily and shakily. His eyes, trembling, he tried to find signs of your form if you were joking.

But no, you were serious.

He took a step forward, his lips trying to say something. Anything.

You shrugged at his reaction.

"I help a lot of people, really. So I don't recognize you. Have I helped you? I assume I did, as you said."

But all he could utter was a helpless, silent cry.

This was worse than being exploited.

The only person who was nice to him when he got isekai'ed into this godforsaken world forgot him.

And you helped other people?

Not just him?

Something unknown bubbled deep into his stomach painfully. It felt like it was wrenching into a boulder he can't seem to lift away.

"My Lady... I..." His mouth felt dry.

You shrugged, snapping your fingers and making you instantly dry after you went up to the shore.

Wearing your clothes, you waved to him before going away once more.

Aeron felt sick to his stomach as he keeled over.

He never cried.

He refused to cry for the people who wronged him.

But now, tears flowed down from his eyes as he started to go under a panic attack.

"My Lady... Why... Why don't you remember me..." He sobbed out, his throat painfully clawing out cries of desperation. The tears soaked his cheeks but he didn't care. "You were so nice to me... Why?"

The fantasy he built inside your mind was now broken completely. He thought you will remember him. He didn't consider that you won't remember him.

He felt so lost.

What's all this for?

What is he fighting for?

When his lady doesn't even remember him?

He gripped the grass beneath him. A strangled cry finally gargling out of his mouth.

Why did he feel so attached to you?

Just because you were the nicest to him?

So what? You chose to be nice in this place filled with vile people.

He just wished you didn't.

He just wished you left him alone, maybe even be rude to him like others did if you would just forget him.

But no, you used your magic on him. A pathetic alien in this grotesque world filled with magic and discrimination.

He just wished he would die then and there.

As negative thoughts filled him, the darkness around him seeped into his legs and arms. Like the sprites, black veins crept around his limbs painfully and into his neck.

What is a hero?

His sclera turned black, his breathing became shorter and shorter.

Does a hero need to be always good?

Something poured inside him, making him gargle in pain. Drool dripped down his chin as he snapped out of it. He writhed in pain from the sudden influx of mana inside his body.

Why was he sent to this goddamn world in the first place?

He curled his toes, his body becoming rigid. Like a leech sprinkled with salt, he painfully clawed at his face as he moved around the place. His heart pounding fast, his mind pulsing all over the place.

Is the purpose of him being isekai'ed here is to save the world?

He hacked up blood, keeling over. The boulder in his stomach now a fiery acid he wished to dispel from his body. He vomits out blood again, but it was pitch black.

But if he was destined to be a hero, why is he suffering so much?

He wants the pain to be gone, he wants it off. He wants to ask for your help, to scream for your name to alleviate his pain like you did before. But no sound came from his mouth. Only black and purple smoke as his body underwent changes he never thought would happen.

Please, will you help this poor man?

After an hour, he shakily stood up. He felt that his senses got more sensitive, tenfold. He can feel every beast's emotion. He can feel overwhelming power inside him, same as authority.

After all, you were the light to his world.

And, as hundreds of beasts surround him, a sprite descended from above and placed a crown on his head. The monsters bowed to him. He numbly stood there, looking so disheveled but so ominous as he took a deep sigh.

Give this Demon King a chance, yes?

You flipped through your mythology book, lazily drinking tea.

You just finished eating dinner, and is now lounging at the roof of your treehouse. Intaking the mana into your body slowly, you had a relaxed form as you yawned from tiredness.

Then you felt it.

The sudden influx of demonic power converging into one place.

Your body shivered, goosebumps riddling your skin.

Coincidentally, the page you stopped on had the ritual of birthing the new Demon King.

After defeating the previous Demon King, a person experiencing the worst grief there is, someone who only received harshness and no kindness in his life, will be able to become the Demon King if a trigger happened. May it be betrayal of feelings, or if one act of kindness inside his unfortunate life suddenly turned sour. Creating the Ultimate Grief, the catalyst of the demonic power to surge inside that person.

Will you run away, or investigate, or stay?

You froze, not knowing what to do.

The only person inside the forest is the Empire's Hero earlier, who introduced himself to you.

What happened?

Is this related to you?

But you seriously don't remember him.

Or did you, and just don't want to acknowledge it by some reason?

Your trembling hand reached for your bag and hastily packed up your stuff. The previous Demon King was weak, somebody who lived for so long that his negative Demonic Powers were slowly depleting.

And the birth of a new Demon King is never a good sign.

This is one of the few times you cursed yourself for not learning how to do teleportation.

Two bags. Not enough but will do for now.

You need to warn the Empire.

"AH!"

As you grabbed the bags and tried to get out of your house, you stopped in your tracks when black veins crept on the floorboards, trying to reach your legs.

Heart rate picking up, you got up the couch.

You just knew that if these veins reached you, you are a gonner.

You clutched your bag, hearing a sorrowful moan outside the treehouse.

"My Lady... Why don't you recognize me?"

You're powerless against a newly awakened Demon King.

You can't escape him.

"You're my light, why did you forget me..."

Your walls creaked and moaned under the intense pressure Aeron was emitting. As if they were yelling at you for forgetting him.

"Was it because I was scrawny and dirty back then?"

He continued to wail outside of the treehouse. You tried casting light magic and dark magic, but they didn't do jackshit on the veins. They continued to try and wrap around your legs.

"My lady... Should I bathe myself in blood for you to recognize me?!"

Powerful wind blew away your front door as you screamed in terror.

Aeron stood on the archway, eyes bloodshot and crazy as his handsome visage was filled with grief, longing, love, anger, sadness...

"You're the same as them my lady..."

You searched his face, trying to recognize him. Your body was struggling to stay standing from the amount of pressure being pressed on your body.

Wait, something's coming in your mind.

As an attempt to speed up your memory, you hit your head with the heel of your palm. In a state of panic of wanting to remember immediately.

The floorboards groaned under his weight as Aeron stepped forward to you.

"Remember me, my lady. Please." Dark tears fell on his cheeks. "Please..."

"Ah! You... The man with the bloodiest stench, with the leg stump that I fixed!"

You spoke so fast that Aeron almost didn't catch it.

The wind stopped howling.

"You... You remembered me..." Aeron laughed, his eyes wide with manic desperation. "Oh my god, you do..."

Aeron slumped down, hugging your waist as he wept.

"My lady, you're too much! You should have told me that you remember me sooner!" He laughed lightly, holding your hand as he buried his face on your stomach.

The sudden shift in mood sent you into a harsh whiplash.

"I-I'm sorry." You whispered, not getting this man in front of you at all.

"I forgive you." He whispered, hands wrapped around you tight.

He feels so good now. No more grief, no more crying.

He just knows you remember him now. Nobody matters but you, and your recognition of him.

"My Lady, i'm here to propose." He suddenly said, making your blood run cold.

And, as he separated himself from you, he kneeled down on both knees, as if pleading you to say yes.

This man, the greatest hero of the Empire, was now kneeling in front of you. Awakened as a Demon King from the grief you caused. His eyes hooded, dripping with overwhelming affection for you.

What have you done?

You've condemned the Empire, this world to a Demon King once more.

"My life here in this Empire was the worst. Everyone hated me, took advantage of me, stole from me, abused me in every way possible. I lost hope, and was driven with revenge. But you, my lady. You showed me kindness when no one did, and I knew you are my soulmate." He confessed passionately, his voice dripping honey sweet with delusional feelings for you. "So, be my wife, my marchioness, my queen..."

You've got the Demon King and the Greatest Hero wrapped around your finger.

Be proud.

And, as you nodded hesitantly, he slipped in the ring he was fidgeting with earlier.

You flinched, feeling it tighten around your digit. Spikes digging slightly, making sure you cannot take it off of you no matter what.

You want to scream at him for this absurd ring, but the ominous smile he had made you clam up.

You are his salvation, and he would die without you.

So chin up, and hold onto the leash tight,

You won't know when this rabid dog will bite the hand that feeds him.

And you don't intend to fuck around and find out.

[momojedi]

now idk if youve been requested smth like this before but tbb finds reader (whos another clone child like omega)?? thatd be cool, id think!! gn reader btw 🫶🫶 ALSO LOVE YOUR WRITING SM TY FOR WRITING THIS IF YOU DO

— FAMILY FOUND pairing. omega/clone force 99 x clone child! gn! reader

**

type. oneshot note. hi anon! thank you for your request, i'm incredibly happy to hear you like my writing! regarding your request, i hadn't thought of anything like that so far, but i love the idea - this is set during season one! the reader could technically be seen as disabled but i'll really leave that up to your interpretation. enjoy! warnings. needles, human experimentation, dehumanisation, sisterly omega fluff, big brother/dad batch, slight injury, potential reference to the blackwing virus, references to clone wars events word count. 2k

star wars masterlist || pinned post

Four hours.

That's how long you'd been running from the Empire and the claws of the Kaminoans, swiftly escaping the planet with the help of AZ-3. After a tearful farewell, the droid had tightly sealed the escape pod's hatch as well as your fate, leaving you to hold off the Kaminoans from tracking you as you fled Tipoca City, the place you once called your home.

When you landed on Ord Mantell, the sudden impact of the crash had swept you off your feet, chucking you to the floor with a loud bang. The intense pain that abruptly shot through your arm as well as the burning sensation that spread in your right cheek quickly lead you to realise that you needed to get a hold on some medical supplies as soon as possible.

"Where is it, where is it - kriff!"

Despite years of being reprimanded by Commander Colt not to curse and avoid the usage of bad words, you couldn't help but ignore your late brother's teachings when you sat back up on your knees after crawling out from under the pod's control panel. There wasn't a medkit in sight. You huffed, gripping your throbbing head with your healthy arm. "I must've hit my head," you whispered to yourself, squinting your eyes in pain. Slowly but surely some medical attention was starting to become really necessary, especially when you felt warm liquid dripping down your cheek.

You sat up. Perhaps you'd find some help in the inner city?

Ord Mantell was huge; bigger and much more crowded than Tipoca City you found yourself realising. Though, that view might've been influenced by the fact that, like most clone children, you'd never seen anything but Kamino throughout your entire life.

Time and time again had you sat among your brothers, listening intently to their adventurous tales fighting in the war and visiting various places throughout the galaxy. And although you felt bad for the loss and pain they went through day by day, you couldn't help but envy the wonderful worlds and systems they also had the chance to experience.

Unlike most clones, you hadn't been made to be a soldier but rather a subject to be tested on. Your entire purpose since you'd been born was to be a lab-rat, to endure tests and examinations in order to help the Kaminoans determine the breeding conditions of their next clones. You thought little of the Kaminoans, as most clones did. Their constant pricking of needles and blood letting made you feel sick and although you'd grown up on Kamino and were used to being dehumanised and seen as an object, a tool rather than a living being, you still hated the longnecks with a burning passion, silently enduring the torture they'd been putting you through. Naturally that also meant that you were made to suffer from various side effects of the experiments, such as age acceleration - or in your case, deceleration.

Unlike the usual clone, you aged slower, almost at the pace of a nat-born. You couldn't see very well due to visual tests they'd made for a special clone unit when you were very young and your hair was trimmed unevenly from being shaved off time and time again.

Naturally with that also came the judgement. Many of your brothers considered you a freak, curiously eyeing you and some times even mocking you. But even though there were many bad apples, you were proud to say that most of them had gladly taken you under their wing, partially having even grown up around you, and you couldn't be prouder of their accomplishments.

When the Empire took over and Admiral Tarkin arrived on Kamino, you swiftly developed a strong disdain for the imperial official and his scornful treatment of the clones. He frightened you with his skeletal appearance and judgemental expressions, scoffing at you when he'd first crossed you following a kaminoan scientist down the corridors of the city.

This disdain solidified when, from behind a window, you observed Tarkin handing obscure plans to Prime Minister Lama Su, signaling a clandestine exchange that left you feeling uneasy. Pressing your face against the glass to glean any insight, you overheard a conversation that sent shivers down your spine.

"I can assure you, CE-0003 will make a wonderful asset to project Blackwing—a low cost for such a risky intrusion; the potential loss won't be of any importance," Prime Minister Lama Su coldly stated, not bothering to acknowledge your presence. The mere mention of your designation number, CE-0003, served as a chilling reminder of the dehumanization endured by clones, but Tarkin's emphasis on "low cost" and "loss" struck an ominous chord, setting off alarm bells within your conscience.

Feeling the weight of an impending threat, you knew that the time had come to make a fateful decision. Unwilling to succumb to a potential death sentence or exploitation in the Empire's mysterious project, you resolved to escape Tipoca City. In the brightly lit corridors, your internal struggle reached a tipping point as you confronted the severity of your situation.

You shook your head, clearing your thoughts. "Kamino is in the past," you mumbled to yourself, avoiding looking straight at the faces that passed by. After all, who knew whether someone had been sent after you or not? The Kaminoans were a very ambitious species and although Ord Mantell was filled with dubious figures, you could not let your guard down just yet.

Your head was starting grow dizzier by the minute and your world was starting to spin. you quickly managed to get a grip on some metal structure to keep you steady - or at least as steady as possible - when a voice caught your attention nearby.

"Oh ... can assist you in any way?"

Only now did you realise that the metal you'd gotten a strong hold on was, in fact, plastoid armour. Immediately you pulled your hand away, apologising profusely, though halfway slurring your words. You weren't even able to make out the stranger's face as the world spun around you and before you knew it, you passed out, barely hearing the stranger calling out another name.

"Echo, come here!"

"A - a clone?"

Hunter and Echo's eyes were settled on Tech, whose own goggled pair were glued to his datapad, as usual. "Precisely," he responded matter-of-factly, "It appears that they apart of a specialised cloning program founded specifically for scientific and medical experimentation."

"You're meaning to tell me the longnecks tortured this child for some bioweapons and drugs?" Echo's voice was angry, his face twisted into a furious grimace as he turned away from your unconscious form whilst holding the bacta-soaked cloth he'd previously been dabbing the gaping burn on your cheek with. Tech huffed, eyeing his brother over the edge of his datapad. "Yes Echo, that is exactly what I'm telling you."

"Unbelievable," Echo scoffed, fist tightening around the cloth, "and to think we once fought alongside those monsters." With a deep sigh, Hunter pushed past his bickering brothers to look over your sleeping form. By now, they had made sure to patch up your broken arm and clean any leftover bruises, settling you down on one of the parlour’s benches. It didn't look necessarily comfortable but seeing as Cid had business to attend to, it was all they could come up with so far - Tech had even dug out Wrecker's civil poncho in the Marauder which you now were cozily wrapped in.

Hunter gingerly brushed the loose hair strands out of your face, watching you with softening eyes as he took over cleaning your bruising face. A small smile tugged on his lips at the sight of your peaceful expression. How would Omega react to you?

As if on cue, the loud chitter-chatter of Wrecker and their little sister erupted in the stairway of Cid's bar, turning the heads of the rest of the batch. Omega squealed excitedly when the giant clone set her down, running toward Hunter with a box of Mantell Mix in her hands.

"Hunter, look!" She chirped, holding out the sugary treat for the sergeant to see, "The nice lady added new toppings and - [name]?"

Her eyes fell upon you and suddenly, she forgot the world around her. Hunter raised a brow before exchanging a questioning look with Echo, who had quietly observed the interaction. Was that your name? How did she know you? Taking the box out of her hands and setting it on the table, the clone sergeant took Omega aside, kneeling to be at her eye level.

"Omega, do you know this child?"

With a worried expression at the sight of your wounds, she hesitated before nodding slowly. "Their name is [name]," her voice was hoarse as she kept an eye on you, "we both assisted the scientists in the medbay, back on Kamino ... they'd often do those weird tests on them, to the point they wouldn't show up for days afterwards." Hunter's blood boiled at the thought of the painful abuse you must've had to endure but he stayed composed. He had to focus on the task at hand after all.

"Are - are they okay?" Omega's eyes were wide as she glanced back at him. "They're alright so far," he slowly stood up, crossing his arms over his chest, "We took good care of their injuries. Tech and Echo found them earlier - they suspect they may have crashed nearby. Should that be the case, they can consider themselves lucky."

The light sound of a confused groan caught Hunter off-guard as he turned to look at you. "Well, look who's up."

You had squinted as your world had grown clearer with every passing second after you woke up, still trying to make out what was going on around you - until you had noticed the five figures standing in front of you. And then the panic set in. Had the Kaminoans already sent out people after you?

"Please don't bring me back," you had sniffled, hot tears already rolling down your cheeks, "I don't want to go back!" It had only been when a familiar girl had approached you with raised hands that you slowly but surely had started to calm down. "Omega?"

As it turns out, the men you had feared to be mercenaries were in fact the infamous Clone Force 99 that had gone rogue and deserted the Empire a few weeks before you escaped. Although you'd heard talk of them plenty of times from your brothers and the scientists, you had never met nor seen them in person as they were usually out on missions and only ever briefly stayed on Kamino. When Omega had left with them, you were heartbroken to see your sister go - most of your time was spent alongside her, after all.

By now, Cid, the Trandoshan woman the bar belonged to, had returned and to the Batch's apparent surprise, quickly took a liking to you; that or she at least pitied you enough to slide in a hot meal and grant you some company as she sat down with you and grunted every now and then while looking over her datapad. Either way, you weren't going to question it and simply enjoyed having the chance to fill your stomach after what felt like forever.

"So, how's AZ?" Omega had managed to squeeze in between you and Cid, eyes fixed on you. "He's okay," you mumbled between bites, "He helped me out a lot when I ... well ..." You frowned as you remembered your escape, setting down the spoon. Although you had fled with good reasons, you couldn't help but miss the place you had once called your home. Fortunately, Omega quickly caught on as she settled a hand on your shoulder with a warm smile.

"I know what it's like," her voice was firm and encouraging when she looked over her shoulder the other side of the bar, where the tall clone you'd earlier found out to be called Wrecker roared in frustration at one of the arcade games set up in the bar while the other, Tech, tried his best at explaining it to him. Echo, the one with the scomp arm, watched and shook his head with a sigh and the leader, Hunter, chuckled while playing with the vibroblade in his hand.

"Our brothers ... they know what they're doing. We keep each other safe," Omega then grabbed your hand tightly and grinned, "And as long as we're here, we'll keep you safe, too."

if you're interested in being tagged for my future works, let me know in my comments or by sending me an ask!

@patapouille @flyiingsly

[ego-meliorem-esse]

TBH your Francis sounds like he sees Matthew more as a pet rather than a child

I think thats the root of the problem. Not really a pet but rather a status symbol. Look at him he has a child who is a personification who looks like a mini version of him that means he is truly influential and an empire bla bla.

I consider love Arthur has for alfred pretty linear. From year 0 when Al is born he is loved fully. He is loved fully by his father (even if showing it would be less likely than cutting his own limbs off with a shovel) during the civil war, he is loved fully during the great war and the war that followed. He is loved fully today.

Matthew and François have a different love. Or rather, François' love is very non linear. I imagine it has spikes, but also periods of drops. When Mathieu is born François is proud. He loves his son but pride is stronger. Is always is for François. He has his own very kitch life, he is not made to be a father. Especially not to an emotional and sensitive lil babe. Mathieu is forgotten often and when he does ask for his needs to be fulilled, when he asks for any kind of attention form his papa, it comes to him with conditions. Yes, you can have new books imported from Paris but I will choose what you read. Yes, you may spend time with me but its going to be at a ball with hundreds of other aristocrats. Pets? Alright, but only the small and weak dogs that show status. It died during the winter? Oh well, that happens.

After a while Mathieu doesnt ask for anything. He yearns and accepts whatever comes his way in regards of a show of affection from the one who made him. If he gets attention its because he did something right, if he is forgotten, its becouse he isnt adequate.

I like to compare Arthurs and François' love by comparing their homes. Arthurs country mansion where Alfred grew up has signs of Alfred everywhere, in every room. You can tell there is a child living in this house. Not only is there a child living in it, you can tell exactly what type of person that child is, what their interests and hobbies are. One look at the bookshelf and you see what fascinates the boy. When you look at the very desk in Arthurs study, its cluttered with neat and precise handwriting with scribbles and doodles right under. The garden with fantastic and grand flowers has small patches of trampled flora at every point. The room where the child resides is always open, always visible from the staircase.

Françpis' home in the heart of Paris is clean. It smells of parfume and repolished wood. His hallway is cluttered with French history. The partlor is tidy except from vibeantly dyed clothing hanging drom the chairs and sofas. There is a half empty bottle of expensive wine on the table next to neatly placed, yet scattered papers. The only noteworthy contents of those papers is the exquisite handwriting that lays upon it. The floor is clean. The sofa is clean. The space is tidy. You can tell a man lives there. A man. Nobody else. If you were to take a peak behind the closed doors of the other rooms you'd find a room with a grand bed with eternaly disheveled blankets and pillows along with pieces of clothing hanging from the edges. Its a used bed. This bed is used by a man. Another peak behind another door at the end of the hallway shows a guest bedroom. A guest bedroom for a child. Some ten books are stacked neatly on the small yet elaborately decorated table next to the bed. A bed with clean and unwrinkled bedding. The colors of the room match to a fault except for the small personal items of the guest child. One could assume the child had no idea what the room they are staying at would look like and whatever it did look like, theyd spend so little time there that in the end it doesnt matter how it looks. The closet is extensively decored with patterns of gold and light blue without a scratch on it. The floor is clean and tidy. It would seem the child forgot to bring any toys while residing here. One wouldnt be at fault for thinking this man has some distant relatives or personal friends with children, and would ocassionaly let them stay at his home.

It's a long conparison but its the best way i can explain myself while sporting a pulsating headache after a long day of classes

So yeah, while I dont think Mathieu is in a position of pet by his father, he is in a position of child who is the result of an one night stand and has to visit his father whenever the court decides and whenever his father decides its convenient.

[asha-mage]

Robert Jordan finished WoT AU 😈

[Send me a potential AU and I'll answer with five things from that story!]

ahahaahahaha, you bait me so zorpi! This is more a 'things I reasonably can guess from my many read through the series' more then anything else, but-

Based on Perrin's portion of the Jordan written ending their was clearly meant to be a moment where Perrin had to choose between Faile's safety and the fulfillment of his duty- and choose his duty, trusting in Faile to protect herself and make her own choices. This is also pretty clearly what Malden and the battle with the Shaido was meant to set up: Perrin realizing that his obsessive desire to protect/love Faile was as much flaw as virtue, and that true love would be trusting her strength and courage. In Jordan's ending I would guess that this would likely have manifested having a choice between leaving the Two Rivers force at the front lines to go rescue Faile, who is carrying the Horn to Mat, or else stay with the Two Rivers Forces and trust Faile- choosing the later. Thus his racing through the battlefield in the aftermath, and finding Faile still alive in the carnage, would be his arc reaching it's conclusions, being rewarded for his trust and faith in her.

Mat was, I suspect, supposed to play a much larger role in the negotiations to get the Seanchan into the coalition against the Shadow, serving as leverage and pressure to get Tuon to the table and to agree to the terms- I also suspect based on his reticence regarding the Empire from when he and Tuon part in KoD, he was supposed to be a lot more reluctant/put off on the idea of commanding the Seanchan forces, and it was originally supposed to be Tuon's idea and/or part of her compromise- she'll join, but her army will follow Mat, not the Dragon appointed supreme commander.

I think we would have gotten a lot more Gabrelle, Toveine, and Logain as our Black Tower PoVs/the counter coup against Taim- Toveine was already being set up in this role in KoD and prior, and it would make sense as a means for her to 'redeem' herself of the Vileness, and it fits with Jordan's usual 'closing of the circle' that one of the Red Sister who helped with the slaughter of the men who could channel, would be one of the first and strongest converts to the Black Tower's cause.

I think we where supposed to also a get bit more thematic conflict/contrast between Graendal and Rand in Arad Doman. In general the political situatuion in Arad Doman feels very....off from how Jordan normally works politics. I think the broad beats (destruction of Natrin's Barrow, failure to stabilize the region, Rand abandoning Bandar Ebon to starve at his lowest moment) would be the same, but it feels very strange things like the merchant council politics and Graendal's broader parallels to Rand (especially in that moment- as she /also/ crumpled under impossible standards and failure to live up to perfection as Rand is currently inthe process of doing) would be far more dug into.

Finally, I think we would have had a least one major reunion scene with the original Emond's Field 5- I know this is something Sanderson wanted to do and tried very hard to manage but didn't quite fit in, which I think is sad. It really feels like their is a missing moment in there, where Mat, Perrin, Rand, Egwene and Nynaeve where all supposed to sit down and reflect on how far they've come and how before the final battle. It especially feels like something that would have been appropriate from either Nynaeve and Rand's perspective.

[darkdrin6]

They're both wrong.

Hi. Recently, we often see different opinions about Kuai and Bi Han in this new relaunch (another one, my God). It's incredibly nice to see people who are really trying to look at what is happening from all sides, but guys - our attempts are in vain, because this game is a damn dummy. Some blame Bi Han, others blame Kuai, and everyone is right in their own way, but what if... THEY'RE BOTH WRONG.

To begin with, the game clearly marks its favorites and does not even try to pretend at least some intrigue and depth. Let's be honest, dear ones, we knew from the very beginning that Bi Han would be treated dirty. The only thing missing was the banner "I'm a villain, guys" at his breast. Let's leave aside how it breaks the character to hell and disappoints. Let's look at what is happening objectively.

So, Bi Han is the head of his clan, who took this place after his father's death. According to Bi Han himself, he let their father die (somehow, and we probably won't know the details). What for? Because their father's vision limited the clan (we probably won't know the details either). Objectively, Bi Han had no need to somehow bring his father's death closer for the sake of power in the clan. Because - you know - Bi Han is the eldest son, he would have taken this place. Considering Kuai's words that there are enough people loyal to Bi Han in the clan, this means that it was not about power as such, but something else. Bi Han let his father die not for the sake of power for himself personally, but for the sake of the greatness of the clan (whatever that means, the game does not give explanations). This is not a selfish motive. At least, not in the direct understanding of this concept.

It seems that Bi Han is not interested in taking over the world completely. He says that he needs a part of the Earthrealm and nothing more. He... wants to build a state? This is a contradictory goal, but it has a place to be (and also our joke about him wanting to restore the Qing Empire turned out to be prophetic; we need to stop joking about it). From this we can draw a logical conclusion that it is not in his interests to betray the Earthrealm, to condone its destruction or subjugation to someone else. Because it literally contradicts his goals.

The next thing that fans hate him for is that it is he, Bi Han, who leaves his brother the his scar. We've seen claims that he tried to kill Kuai and... it's quite possible that he did. Emotions, rage push him forward, to attack. Bi Han is constantly angry, but especially in this scene. And if you review this scene, you will clearly see that Bi Han waited a VERY long time before Kuai noticed that the knife was in his other hand. This is really a decent slowdown, and Bi Han had the opportunity to kill his brother at the same moment. But he doesn't. His attack is an impulse, not a cold-blooded desire to kill Kuai.

Another reason to hate Bi Han is Smoke. More precisely, the fact that Bi Han - that's terrible! (sarcasm) - does not accept him as a brother, because Tomas is not his blood brother. Bi Han says that Tomas is not Lin Kuei by blood, and this moment raises questions. A clan is a social association that is based on blood ties. This is usually one or more families united by kinship of varying degrees. In the old chronology, it was never exactly said whether Lin Kuei was a clan, a united kinship. More often it seemed that these were conditional ties, more idealogical than blood ties. But here Bi Han puts a lot of emphasis on blood ties. So does this mean that Lin Kuei is still related to each other? This can also be regarded as the fact that Bi Han says that Tomas is not part of their family, and not the clan as a whole, and this is the case. Even people treat blood brothers and sisters differently, it all depends on the upbringing and the situation in the family. We don't know anything about the context, we don't know about the past, about the relationships of these people. Frankly speaking, they do not communicate with each other like real living people who, albeit conditionally, are part of the same family. All their dialogs can be replaced with:

Bi Han: the exposition. Kuai: the exposition. Tomas: the exposition. Bi Han: exposition and an unexpected plot twist. Kuai: the exposition. Some important phrase. Tomas: another exposition. Write me a check and I'll go to in a better movie. Bi Han and Kuai: we will also go to in a better movie, but first here's another exposition.

The only time one could truly believe that they were somehow connected to each other was when Bi Han asked if they were both unharmed. He just fought Ermak, a creature with thousands of souls, but it is he who asks Kuai and Tomas if they are okay. Not the other way around.

Another problem associated with this scene is that many people did not seem to be watching it with their eyes. We literally had to point out to our friends at this point. Damn stone. Reconsider, come on. Bi Han doesn't kick him, doesn't throw him down. He just ends up too abruptly on the edge of the wall and a piece of stone breaks down by accident. Bi Han doesn't want to kill Tomas. Bi Han doesn't want to kill Harumi either, for that matter. In that dialogue, he says that the family can be a means in this war. He doesn't say "I will kill your wife", he just said that he might consider influencing Kuai through something/someone else. Take Harumi hostage or influence her to influence her husband's decisions. Maybe just find a way to negotiate with her, because with Harumi, Bi Han doesn't have a family drama that seems to have been accumulating for years. People who accuse Bi Khan of something he didn't actually do, be ashamed, because this is slander.

Bi Han is still the antagonist. More precisely, he could be him, but his betrayal does not make any sense at all, either emotionally or in plot terms. He doesn't do anything else after it and disappears from the plot. He might as well have just been injured by Shang Tsung or by Quan Chi, and recovered in the hospital behind the scenes.

The problem is that the game doesn't want players to somehow empathize with Bi Han or even support his goals. And his goals (no matter how illusory they may be) have a place to be. He is ready to take extreme measures, radical decisions, but in fact he has not done any of this yet. The studio did not make him either a positive hero, a cool antagonist, an inspiring villain, or a neutral character with his own motives. He's just a piece of evil cardboard, against which Kuai should look as good as possible.

Is Bi Han right? We don't know. The game does not give any context and declares that he wants power for the sake of power, which is always as negative as possible, because the desire for power does not lead to good. Is he right to let his father die (whatever that means)? No. Without context, the answer is unequivocally "no". Is it cruel of him to be cold towards the orphan Tomas? Cruelly. But there is a place to be. Again, we lack at least some context. The game just says - hey guys, Bi Han is a villain now, condemn him for his villainies that we didn't even really come up with. Excellent solution, NRS writers, just excellent.

Summing up - Bi Han: 1) ambitious (which is not explained by anything) 2) cold with others 3) somehow involved in the death of his father 4) puts his clan above everything else and even above blood ties (although he himself refers to the importance of blood kinship and .. IT DOESN'T MAKE SENSE AT ALL)

In a number of dialogues, Bi Han is inconsistent, but let's remember that he is a person who will not tell the enemy the truth about his relationship with someone. So don't take at face value everything he says to other characters in the intro. He is still angry, but he still wants the brothers (Kuai for sure) to be on his side, although on his rules.

And now let's approach the situation from the other side. Kuai and Tomas. And we will immediately abandon Tomas, because - you know - he is not even a character in this farce. He's just a weak-willed appendage of Kuai, completely devoid of personality, and the script is completely to blame for this. Tomas had at least some problematic and self conflict in the old chronology, he literally lived with a demon in his head. Unfortunately, now he's just a dear friend of one of the main characters. He deserved more. Let's remember the wasted potential with a kind word. And let's move on.

So, Kuai Liang. Let's not touch on the topic anymore that this is not really the Kuai we knew; that the studio also took away all his personality. This has been said many times. Let's look at it within the framework of this particular plot. He is the second/youngest son of Grandmaster Lin Kuei clan, and he probably has less chance of to rule the clan. From his official biography, it can be said that he was attached to his father because he grieved after his death. Again - we don't know anything about their relationship. Of course, the child's love for the parent is unconditional (but for some reason this does not apply to Bi Han), and it can be understood that Kuai is devastated by the death of his father. But there is no context here either. Were they really close? Or was Kuai's father a kind of idol, as for many children with rather cold parents? We don't know, because the game doesn't say anything else, except that the previous Grandmaster took the wounded orphan and raised him in a place where Tomas could see the people who killed his family every day. It's a very merciful decision, man, but let's not talk about it now.

Kuai follows his father's vision because he grew up thinking it was the right thing to do. And it makes sense. It is right for Kuai to guard the Earthrealm with the methods that his father instilled in him (perhaps because we again have no idea what was between them). He is quite young, with a hot heart and a hot head, so with all his sanity, feelings will often prevail in him. And this is normal for a living person. He is not as desperate for action as Bi Han, and is more passive at such moments, which can be explained both by the family situation and the nature of his character. Again - we don't have the context to judge for sure. And although some of his statements seem indifferent towards his brother, the game clearly does not imply that Kuai is a bad person or a bad brother. Although, of course, it is not perfect.

Understand correctly. This whole family - Bi Han, Kuai Liang and Tomas - is problematic. If you listen to some of their dialogues, look at their general behavior and logically understand what is happening, then a picture emerges when an unclear family problem has been growing for years, but all three have too little habit of talking about their feelings and trying to solve the problem with words, not a fight. But at the same time, the plot is desperately trying to make Kuai a positive character. And the most revealing scene here is Kuai's attack on his brother in the tomb. Let's take it in order, because a lot of people have problems with this scene too. 1) they are captured 2) Shang Tsung talks about his plan, trying to lure Lin Kuei to his side (and thus the heroes get information) 3) Bi Han silently makes it clear that he seems to agree to the sorcerer's terms (we remind them that they are still in captivity) 4) Bi Han says he let his father die 5) Kuai attacks and in a fit of rage tries to kill his brother, he does not succeed (and it is the intervention of another soldier that does not allow Kuai to make a mistake) 6) Kuai escapes

This scene is stupid and meaningless from beginning to end. Bi Han, whose goals are to control a part of the Earthrealm should least of all trust Shang Tsung. On the other hand, if he says no, nothing will stop the soldiers from cutting the throats of both brothers right here. The army of living statues is not some incredible tool at all, they burn and melt very well (as we have already seen). Why did Bi Han agree to this seriously? But what follows is a moment that is just confusing. Bi Han says that he let their father die (it is unclear what exactly he means), and Kuai attacks him without the slightest hesitation and delay with such fury that without outside interference he could have killed Bi Han. Yes, he is emotional, he is furious, he is in grief. To know that your own brother did this is just awful. But before that, Kuai is shown to be a calm and sane person who will think first and then do something. If he had remained the same as he was shown to us, he probably would have really doubted his brother's words. You know, if our brother had said that he was to blame for the death of our mother (as a person whose mother died, we can say so), we would have first thought if he had gone mad. Because in family relationships it is normal to believe in the best in your relatives. Did Kuai have doubts, suspicions? No, the game didn't show that. Again, we are not given any context. The plot wants us to just believe that Kuai is right to appeal to our conscience, because parricide is always bad (tell that to Tyrion Lannister, yes).

Kuai can be understood in his anger. Even if it happened that he accidentally killed his brother in a fit of rage, he would regret it. The game tries to pretend that he is a good person and that he really cares about his brother, even if he is absolutely crazy, but the plot doesn't even try. Kuai takes Bi Han out of the fortress so that he does not help Shang Tsung. This is exactly what Kuai himself says directly. He's probably a good brother (???) *bewilderment*.

Kuai is actually trying to be a good person. He is trying to restrain Bi Han's ardor, to support Tomas. He doesn't really want to fight, but he doesn't run away from battle either. The difference is how he solves his problems. Knowing that a paramilitary clan remains under the command of Bi Han, which may pose a threat, Kuai escapes. Again, we don't have the context to understand whether this decision is logical or infantile. We mean that he is the son of the previous Grandmaster who defeated the current Grandmaster in battle. He definitely has at least some weight in the clan. He could have just grabbed his brother and hammered some common sense into him, because - you know - lives depend on it. But the plot literally does not allow Kuai to act logically.

He's not a scoundrel. Not a traitor. He tries to follow what he thinks is right. He is the same person with his own goals as Bi Han. But the difference is that the plot exposes one of them as a villain, and the other as a pure and innocent hero. And such a sharp separation, which does not allow the characters to be interesting and lively, is frankly annoying.

By the way, Kuai is also inconsistent in the introduction. He clearly doesn't want anyone else to harm Bi Han, but he doesn't tell him about it. And it makes sense, because there's still this damn family drama between them that makes them both angry.

In the end, they are both wrong. They're both terribly scripted characters that the writers play like dolls. And it's not the fault of the characters, it's the fault of an absolutely immature plot. Don't blame them both, understand that this game just can't handle the disclosure of heroes and uses manipulative elements to hang labels.

We understand the frustration and the desire to find meaning where there is none. But, as they say in our country - do not stretched an owl on the globe (no need far-fetched facts).

This is a terribly manipulative immature plot that attracts attention only at the expense of the fanservice. Don't blame the characters, don't pour shit on them. Remember that they are hostages of the script.

The perplexed Kenshi, as the embodiment of our reaction to everything that is happening.

[tubbytarchia]

why do you acknowledge joel's boundries on shipping and then still ship him im so confused

Using read-more for easier avoidance for people who dgaf

Because of people who will inevitably come and white knight for him. What I think is that when he said what he said in that one old video clip (that he finds it weird to be shipped with anyone but Lizzie), he didn't realize exactly what was even being asked of him and that he really doesn't give that much of a fuck. He's the one who keeps the "neck kisses" and boat boys bit going, he made two neck kisses playlists with a bunch of songs about sex (never change Joel), he constantly has shippy exchanges with people like Jimmy, he and Jimmy had a whole "babymaking" ordeal in Empires and had casual suggestive exchanges with Sausage for an extended period of time regarding their child Hermes thing, his friends and Lizzie have acknowledged him being shipped with no issue, eg Lizzie saying that he ships Jimmy and Joel (or maybe it was Boat Boys. Knowing Lizzie it could have been both, she loves joking about that lol, especially to Joel in streams) or his Hermitcraft friends making similar comments about him and Etho

If Joel didn't fully get what shipping entailed back then, be probably does now and I'm inclined to believe that he doesn't care enough to say anything or he finds it funny to not say anything. He is constantly asked about how he feels about it on streams and he always ignores it, and I don't believe in a million years that it's because he's uncomfortable, otherwise he would have said as much. He just recently acknowledged "Tumblr found my neck kisses playlist", there's absolutely no way he doesn't know of the shipping too and is choosing not to comment. I can't stop it if people wanna white knight for him, I know they always will but that's my stance on the that 👍

[cross-my-heartt]

Three antagonists, three distinct attitudes, all representative of what the Empire stands for as a whole

I wanted to take a moment to appreciate what a good job TBB has been doing with its antagonists so far, especially our three imperial officers here. A good antagonist is so important to a good story and I love how each of these characters has a distinct feel about them even though they’re all meant to represent the Empire’s worst qualities. (Yes, Hemlock isn’t included here. That guy's a whole new category of yikes.)

Tarkin: ruthless authoritarianism

Tarkin is the perfect representation of unfeeling single-minded power. He's willing to go however far it takes to accomplish the Empire's goals, eradicating all that stand in its way or dare to oppose it. He hated the jedi for their reluctance to go against their moral code and their unwillingness to bend to the Republic’s will and he hates the clones for much the same reason.

Tarkin believes that nothing should stand in the way of victory. He is the face of a regime that tolerates no opposition, no hesitation and no failure and shows no inhibitions when enforcing those rules.

Morals and human lives are meaningless when the interests of the Empire are at stake.

In a way that simplicity is what makes him so intimidating – his is a straightforward but absolute point of view. That’s scary as hell when it belongs to someone with so much power.

Rampart: calculating ambition

Unlike Tarkin, Rampart represents those that see power as an end rather than a means to one. He’s the rank climber. The smarmy bootlicker. The ambitious overachiever who’s willing to make concessions in the name of success.

We learn that the implementation of chain codes was his initiative. That he’s the one behind project War Mantle. We see how animated and obsequious he is when talking to Tarkin only for him to show his true (dismissive and arrogant) colors to those he considers his subordinates later.

He readily uses and manipulates those he can use for the sake of his own personal gain. This could be the renegade batch or Crosshair to whom he's open about his doubt in regards to his loyalty and that’s where he and Tarkin differ.

He’s dangerous because he is cunning and his cunning allows him to exploit the opportunities the Empire has to offer. He may or may not care for the system itself, but he certainly cares about what it can do for him, which is why he works to further its cause.

It's the kind of self interest that has little regard for morality. Rampart isn’t tolerant of anything that threatens his reputation and by extension his chances of success and he will dispose of anyone who isn’t convenient to him.

Which makes it all the more ironic that he himself was disposed of when he became inconvenient to the Empire.

Nolan: bigoted loyalty

If Rampart was the calculating opportunist, Nolan is his (even more) despicable counterpart. He’s the small insecure man who nonetheless profits from his political alignment, not because he’s competent but because he’s a good little imperial henchman and it gives him a sense of importance.

All in all, he’s the precursor to all the bumbling imperial officers we see in later star wars media, who stand not on merit but on selling themselves to a regime.

A man who cowers at a little turbulence

and has no experience under his belt and yet touts his rank and considers himself better than the clones.

He’s the typical bigot who tramples over others – resorting to derogatory labels (such as 'used equipment') and treating them as less than human – just because he can and because it gives him a power high.

If Rampart saw the clones as a resource that could be used to the very end, Nolan sees sparing medical supplies for one as a ‘waste of resources’. Which is bullshit of course. But prejudice is pretty bad at pretending it’s logical. And the show does a good job of showing us the various little pathetic excuses it tries to hide behind.

(I thought I couldn't hate this guy more and yet I somehow managed it after writing this lol.)

[captainmera]

Andddd speaking of you going into the philosophies of it all that’s exactly what I’m going to do!! (THIS IS REALLLY LONG IM SO SORRY you don’t have to get to it right away)

One corner of philosophy that I enjoy is free will and determinism. Determinism is basically the opposite of free will; it’s the idea that every event, decision and action is determined by a chain of prior occurrences.

I think determinism is really important within The Owl House, especially regarding Luz’s guilt about helping Belos, and with how you are writing ttocw.

Let me talk about Belos/Philip for a bit.

One thing that comes to my mind when thinking about your interpretation of the Wittebanes is the case of Leopold and Loeb. I would recommend looking it up if you would like, it’s as tragic as it is fascinating, but to sum it up two boys committed murder hoping to demonstrate superior intellect, which they believed would allow them to commit the “perfect crime” without consequences.

Im not trying to compare these guys to Caleb and Philip or connect them to each other in any way, it’s the defense their lawyer made that’s important. (It’s said that by the end of his speech the court room was quiet and the judge was weeping openly.)

Clarence Darrow, the lawyer, attempted to show that the boys were helpless victims of heredity and environment. In other words, the deterministic ideas of Nature and Nurture. Nature refers to the biological/genetic factors that impact one’s traits. For example, you have no free will over your eye color, but this idea goes a lot deeper than just physical appearance. Nurture is one’s upbringing, their environment, experiences etc. and how they impact you and your choices.

Both of these affecting your decisions would be something like: you walk into an ice cream shop. You can’t get anything with nuts because you are allergic (nature), and people have told you how good this one flavor is (nurture) so you think you will go with that.

It’s not really as simple as that however, a lot of the things you do can be traced back to one of the two, or both. What does this have to do with the Wittebanes?

You are writing Philip as a perfect example of how nurture changes someone. How the simplest actions, even the ones that seem the most insignificant, have effect on a person. Especially how these things that happen to Philip when he was just a kid will turn him into Belos in the long run. That mask he wore that Caleb said could trick witch’s? He wore it for hundreds of years in the isles. The ideas and politics and religion he grew up with influenced the way he created his empire, raised Hunter, spoke about the Titan, etc.

I believe Caleb has spoken about how he feels somewhat at fault for the way Philip turned out, and he’s not wrong. But then you begin to ask why Caleb acted the way he did to Philip, then who or what was the cause of those actions, and it will keep spiraling until the whole world is to blame for the actions of one man, and you can’t blame the world for the hurt and suffering of so many people.

I think that’s when I start to wonder about Hunter, he was influenced and raised to believe what he did was right, but so did Philip. Hmmm personally I think it’s whether or not you can come to the realization that what you are doing or did is wrong and hold yourself accountable for your actions. But even then there is still the people you hurt and it’s not up to you whether they will forgive you or not. I just love thinking about these kinda things

But one thing I know for certain is that Luz should not be beating herself up over helping Belos.

Because if Luz never taught him the light glyph then there would be no collector, no emperor belos, no emperors coven. Sure, I can understand her guilt, she was the one that put his plan into motion.

But if there was no emperors coven then Lilith would never have cursed her sister, never causing her to run off and find the portal door. No portal door means Luz would have never walked into the demon realm. But she did, meaning she has, at the time, already taught him the glyph. It was always going to happen, there was no way around it.

Not only that, but I’m sure Belos knew. I’m sure he knew all of this. Why else would Lilith be able to keep her palisman, because without it she would have (most likely) never risen in ranks, never become as powerful as she was. Never ultimately betraying the coven in favor of her sister. Never ending up at the Owl House on that fateful day when Flora Desplora planted the idea of the time pools in her head. Would have never gone back in time with Luz, met Philip. Never taught him the light spell.

I’m sure Lilith joining the coven must have been some sort of realization for Belos. I’m sure he recognized her face, as unlikely as it sounds, but he remembered Luz. He for sure could have stopped Luz and the rest from getting away after she blew up the portal door, but he didn’t. If you look up the hollow mind paintings you can see them in (I’m pretty sure) chronological order, and there is one of him standing in front of a smirking Flora, undoubtedly sending her off to plant the idea of the time pools in Lilith’s head.

But what I don’t think Belos understands is that it wasn’t him manipulating the situation. It was an act of fate. There was no free will in any of this. Luz was always going to step through that door, and always going to teach him the glyph. I would say that she has nothing to be guilty about but I can understand why she still would be. Even if she never had any say in what was going to happen she did still end up causing a lot of people to get hurt. The thing she needs to get is that it was the actions of Belos that caused people to get hurt, her actions were a factor in what happened, sure, but she had no control over what was happening, and it wasn’t her that actively went out and hurt people 😭😭😭 I just want her to be happy shoajsjakaja

If this gets deleted somehow I swear

I don't really have anything to add! this was really cool to read!

But I will add that, yes! That is an interest of mine (nurture vs nature) and an intention I have with Philip. I think it's an interesting puddle of grey to pat my feet into when writing complex villains/antagonists/conflicts. I enjoy exploring greyness in characters in general! So you're spot on there.

[ataleofcrowns]

Bonus Lore: Crowns of Old, Part II

[ Part I ]

Back again with another lore drop, though this will be the last one until CH11 is released.

We're picking up where we left off and continuing with the fifth, sixth, and seventh Crowns. I believe I've posted the lore regarding the sixth Crown Bardiya before, but it's good to have it all in one post and in chronological order ✨

The Fifth Crown: Koban the Impotent Sword

Crown Koban was an ardent admirer of Crown Humati, who was seen as an exemplary ruler where her military victories were concerned. Koban, on their part, was rather brash in comparison. While an effective military leader, they lacked in other areas of governance: their first solution typically tended to be to use the Imperial Army, where other avenues would have sufficed.

While their aggressive temperament proved useful in warding off the invasion attempts from the Saca in the north, it made them terrible at diplomacy. Much of the conflicts with Thallos can, at least partly, be traced back to Crown Koban's reign. They would demean and insult other monarchs, boasting about Arsur's military power as often as they could.

While the public and some of the nobility were fond of their theatrics, perhaps even encouraging of it, the merchant faction were their greatest critics. Especially in the province of Avdin, which is the main point of trade from and to Thalloi city-states, their rhetoric was less than appreciated.

While Thallos was not much of a threat during this period, things began to change when Koban started poking at Qathesh.

Even those who supported Koban's arrogance before quickly began to turn on them. It was clear to everyone that Arsur could not compare to Qathesh when the empire was still in its infancy, and furthermore, Qathesh was a much more vital trading partner as well as a direct neighbor compared to Thallos. Inciting a war with them was nothing less than foolishness--Koban likely knew this as well, but had grown so conceited they thought they could taunt them without repercussion.

Thankfully, the Pharaoh of Qathesh at the time, Masaharta, knew Crown Koban was all bark and no bite. Still, he could not let any insult stand. When Crown Koban celebrated their bonding to their promised one, the gift sent by the Pharaoh was a single sapling of a fig tree. It was widely understood as a reminder of Arsur's youth as well as its small size compared to Qathesh. Crown Koban was stated to have been humiliated and seething with anger at the condescension, not that they could do anything about it.

The double entendre of their epithet was given intentionally.

The Sixth Crown: Eccentric Bardiya

Crown Bardiya is a very odd case, in that there is next to nothing known about his/their reign. At least, not officially.

Royal historians have been employed at the Royal Palaces from even before Arsur existed. It is a holdover tradition from the Monarchy of Ardia that Ashadūna continued after founding Arsur. These historians record all the Crown's daily activities, as well as when they are handling matters of political importance or at notable events. These records remain for future generations, as well as future Crowns.

Unfortunately, most of Crown Bardiya's records were destroyed or disappeared. For the longest time, no one knew why or how, until a grave-robber managed to break into Bardiya's tomb, but instead of riches, they discovered a single book. It was a personal journal that Crown Bardiya left behind in secret.

The grave-robber was apprehended upon an attempted escape and later executed, but not before they were made to reveal their discovery. Scholars unearthed the journal and, to their enormous surprise, discovered that Crown Bardiya kept record of their own activities and, furthermore, was the culprit behind the destroyed records of his reign in the first place.

The first journal was, in fact, the start of an elaborate treasure hunt that would lead the scholars on a 3 year long journey to collect all the journals that Crown Bardiya had written. Apparently, Bardiya detested the plain and objective way of writing from the royal historians, and was determined to have his records told in their own voice.

This eccentric behavior was not unusual for Bardiya. He was known to have a flair for the dramatic, and enjoyed outwitting, confusing or teasing others with riddles, personally-made puzzles, and philosophical conundrums. While this could make them quite frustrating to deal with in person, Bardiya also was a prodigious scholar of magic. In fact, they refused to take on a Sorcerer as he was of the opinion that he could do much better than any other magus out there, and they were probably correct in that assessment.

Bardiya is known as a founder of contemporary warding magic; before them, there was a very simple magic system and only a dozen sigils to choose from. Bardiya managed to find a way to invent new sigils through combining bits and pieces of the old ones, eventually creating the 4037 sigils currently in use. This warding magic increased the Empire's security immeasurably, aiding the armor and weapons used by its armies, and still keeps many of its important landmarks safe from harm.

The Seventh Crown: Lorîcan the Bullheaded

Crown Lorîcan, as you can likely tell from her epithet, was known to be a very stubborn Crown. Many times unreasonably stubborn, with disastrous consequences as a result.

Once Lorîcan had made her mind up about something, it was impossible to tell her otherwise. She would argue experts who studied the subject matter for their entire lives, based solely on the fact that her authority was absolute, and being chosen as the Crown meant she would know what was best.

Lorîcan's relationship with her Imperial Court, however, was not necessarily antagonistic. While the nobles were greatly annoyed by her at the start of her reign, they quickly learned that as long as they were the first to talk ideas into her head, it would be impossible for others to change her mind, and she would always end up in agreement with them.

If anything, this lead to great friction between her and her Sorcerer. Noble Zinar was immensely frustrated as the nobility got a hold of Lorîcan and began talking in her ear before her Sorcerer could advise her on anything. Soon, this began to lead to arguments between Lorîcan and Zinar.

The boiling point came when a plague was spreading through the cities of Zerat. The advice from experts to burn dead bodies en mass was protested by the magi who did not want to risk themselves in the plague, and through the Imperial Court, they argued that burning the bodies would be in violation of many people's spiritual beliefs. In Arsur, dead bodies are most typically fed to carrion birds. While some groups do use funeral pyres, many believe burning or burying corpses would defile the sacred elements of earth and fire.

When Lorîcan accepted this judgment, neither Zinar or any of the others in court could tell her otherwise. Zinar finally lost their patience, and their argument with Lorîcan became so out of hand that at the end of it, the Crown ordered for her Sorcerer to be stripped of their position and imprisoned.

It is the great irony of Lorîcan's story that she, of course, eventually succumbed to the plague herself.

[ Part III ]

[dailydragon08]

A Crime of A Different Kind

Pairing: Luke Skywalker x F!Jedi!Reader   Summary: Your and Luke's undercover mission to investigate imperial dealings in Tatooine's underworld doesn't go quite according to plan--especially with the pair of you undercover at Lord Halfoc's party posing as crime lord and consort. Warnings: grabby criminals, gross misogynistic comments, some non-consensual touching (but nothing too intense, because Luke would never allow that), making out, reader is in a very revealing dress (pictured above), implied/referenced drug use (not Luke or reader). A/N:  "Remnants" is a series of one shots in no particular order about the budding relationship between you and Luke as he trains you in the ways of the Force. I made a fancy cover for the first time, so hopefully it’s not trash. Find me on AO3 under DragonHeartstring360 and see my masterlist linked in my pinned post on my blog! Stay tuned for a part 2!

***

You glanced at Luke from across the dim throne room. Crime lords, drug dealers, and con men of all races loitered with their slaves and consorts at Halfoc’s party—and so did several imperialists, which was why you and Luke were here. You’d been sent by Mon Mothma to find more information about the deal the imperialists—who supposedly had a Force-sensitive among them, which was why your presence was crucial—were striking with the Tatooine crime lord to try and resurrect the fractured empire. You’d entered with fake invitations—with Luke as a fellow criminal named Anberrie and you as his slave girl.

“Consort,” he’d corrected you earlier aboard the Redeemer. “I refuse to call you a slave.”

He seemed to sense your gaze and met your eyes across the room. His costume consisted of a thin grey, long-sleeved v-neck shirt with matching pants and boots, a waist-length asymmetrical cape slung over one shoulder hiding the lightsaber at his belt. With his hair neatly swept away to the side of his forehead and stony look Leia had taught him, he looked every bit the rich criminal. His eyes softened as they turned to you and his shoulders ticked down several notches as he sighed. He shook his head slightly and you tried to send him a reassuring smile.

Just remember to breathe. You don’t want the empire’s Force user to sense your discomfort.

He nodded before taking a deep, slow breath—only to begin hacking into his elbow as the haze of smoke went up his nose.

You struggled to hide your smile. Maybe don’t breathe too deep.

He bit his lip to hide his chuckle as he turned back to the other guests near him. You glanced at the other consorts and dancers in the corner around you. Many of them chatted with each other, but you could sense their animosity, anger, and anxiety. You did your best to join the conversation enough to blend, but still stay to yourself enough to remain unremarkable.

Although the dress might not have been helping in that regard—if you could even call it a dress. It barely covered anything. The back was open with the green fabric in front creating a deep v that barely covered your chest and showed off your hips before connecting to a gold ring by your belly button. From there, the flowy skirt continued in an upside-down v to the floor, with a slit that exposed nearly your whole leg. The large sleeves flared out and extended to your knees, partially hiding the shock cuffs around your wrists and ankles—which Luke had sworn he wouldn’t even think of activating. However, it was the only alternative to chains, and the entire ensemble was a necessary evil for the current mission. Almost more nerve-wracking than the worst of Tatooine’s underworld ogling you was the fact that Luke would, too. Although the memory of him failing to function when you came out of your room on the Redeemer almost made you laugh. He’d been mid-sentence before doing a double take, his words spluttering to a halt. He’d let out a shaky breath as he practically melted and leaned on the table behind him for support. But, ever the gentleman, he had insisted you wear his cloak and gave you an apologetic look as he’d removed it from your shoulders later to stash for the trip back to the ship.

Your eyes wandered to him again as you sighed. He really did look strikingly handsome in his outfit—which would explain why some of Halfoc’s dancers were all over him. You could feel his discomfort as a Twi’lek woman pressed herself against his chest and ran a hand up and around his neck. He reached for you through the Force before gently grabbing her shoulders and moving her several steps back.

You bit your tongue to keep yourself from flying to his side. Stretching your legs, you turned to take in the dark walls, floor, and smoky haze of the central area. Several heavy shutters were partially open to allow airflow while keeping out the heat of the suns. A stage stood near a raised dais holding an empty throne with live music. Dancers flowed from the stage to prance between the circular tables and around the bench seats pressed against the walls, running their hands along different guests’ shoulders, whether they had their own consort on their lap getting handsy or not. Guards armed with blasters and spears with Halfoc’s symbol emblazoned on their chests stood at attention at each doorway and you were sure there were more hidden in the crowd.

Did you find anything yet? Luke’s voice rang soothingly in your head.

I’ve barely had a chance to get away. We need a distraction— Before you could finish your thought, you felt large hands roughly grope your butt before sliding around the bare skin of your waist. You jumped and glanced over your shoulder to see a large Trandoshan close behind you. You grimaced before turning to face the group of slaves before you, knowing any thrown elbows or cold remarks could blow your cover. They gave you sympathetic looks before most of them scurried off, the ones who stayed forming groups for safety.

You tensed and braced yourself as the Trandoshan’s hand descended your thigh, his fingers edging closer to the inside of your leg. You screwed your eyes shut, unable to resist the urge to throw your elbow back. Before it could make contact with his chest, however, you felt his hand suddenly rip away.

You turned to see Luke had practically materialized behind you. He grabbed your waist with his other hand and pushed you behind him, still holding the Trandoshan’s hand in a death grip. His blue eyes had turned icier than you’d ever seen them and you thanked the Maker you’d never been on the receiving end of that glare. “Don’t touch her,” he growled low in his throat. Although you were sure he was putting on some sinister airs for effect, you could feel his very real rage and disgust through the Force.

“Why?” the alien leered. “We can share. There’s plenty of her to go around.”

You felt Luke’s irritation grow beside you. “Why don’t you go find someone else to pass around before I make you regret it? This one’s mine.”

You swallowed hard. As degrading as the situation was, seeing him defend you so fiercely sent shivers through you for entirely different reasons.

The Trandoshan looked like he was about to argue but turned as a few guards hovered nearby with spears at the ready. “Boss doesn’t want too much trouble here,” one said. “The last thing you should be doing is fighting over some worthless slave girl.”

Luke bristled beside you. Unsure what else to do that would keep you looking in character, you pressed yourself flush against Luke’s chest and pushed him into a dark corner of the room. Several other guests had slave girls on their laps, their hands and lips roaming. A glance over your shoulder showed the Trandoshan slinking away to bother some other poor girl as you pushed Luke into a padded chair. He landed a bit more roughly than you intended, releasing a shaky breath as he looked up at you with round doe-eyes, his hands coming up to rest against the bare skin of your waist. He quickly retracted his flesh hand, but you held his gloved hand in place as you seated yourself in his lap.

“Sorry,” you hissed in his ear, thankful the music was loud enough to drown you out from any passersby. “You really need to work on not going bright red every time I touch you. It’s not very crime lord-y of you.”

He cleared his throat. “I would stop if I could, believe me.” His eyes turned soft in the murky light. “Are you all right?”

You nodded, seeing the guards still hovering and watching the pair of you from the corner of your eye. You wrapped an arm around Luke’s shoulder while grabbing his flesh hand and putting it back on your waist. “You can, um, touch to be more convincing if you need to.”

He gave you a stilted nod, his hand immediately falling to your fabric-covered leg. “I’m so sorry. You deserve so much more respect than what you’re getting in here. All these women do.” He stared at you for a moment before brushing some hair away from your face. “You know I have the utmost respect for you, right?”

You nodded before pressing your forehead to his. “I know, but I appreciate you reminding me.” He closed his eyes and sighed, pulling you closer to his chest. You sensed the guards turn and leave and finally let the tension bleed from your body, letting Luke’s sense of tranquility at your closeness wash over you. For a moment, you just sat on his lap, enjoying the feeling of him against you. Your fingers wandered from his shoulder to the hair at the nape of his neck of their own accord. Before you could pull back and apologize, he sighed and gently bumped his nose against yours, his fingers rubbing soothing circles along the fabric of your skirt.

You nearly lost yourself as his soft voice whispered, “I’m so sorry I’ve had to be rougher and more rude than usual. Mothma said to be convincing, but I hate this.”

“I know. It’s okay, I promise. I did manage to find out a bit of information and send it to Mothma, just in case something happens.”

He held you tighter. The slit in your skirt fell open to expose most of your leg and you felt him gently pull the fabric back in place, holding it there with his hand. “I won’t let anything happen.”

“Not very crime lord-y of you just now.”

He huffed out a breath that could’ve been a laugh. “I just…hate that they’re all leering at you.”

“That was sort of part of the job description.”

“I know, but I just…” he tilted his head back to meet your eyes. The smoke made his eyes water and brought out the blue even more. He opened his mouth to say something before sighing and giving you a soft shrug. “I—”

“I know. It’s okay. Hopefully, we’ll be out of here soon.” You almost forgot your next sentence as you lost yourself in his gaze. His gloved hand rubbed soothing circles on your back as he held you in his eyes. “Any luck locating our Force user?”

“Not yet. I can sense someone Force-sensitive—other than you, of course—but I’m having trouble pinpointing exactly where it’s coming from.”

“Seen Halfoc yet?”

“A few times across the room, but not up close. The fight will start soon though, and there’s a prep room that connects to the arena, so I think I will soon. The intel said it’s a habit of his to wish each contestant good luck before the fight. There’s a large Rodian following him around though, who I think might be our Force user.”

You squeezed him tighter. “Please be careful…do you know what you’re fighting?”

“The guests fight each other, then the final winner fights one of Halfoc’s pets. It’s not to the death, but it’s close—I think a guard is coming towards us.”

“Probably should look a little dazed, then.”

“What?”

“Like you’ve been…you know…having a good time.”

He was silent and tense underneath you before clearing his throat again.

You laughed. “You’re setting a record for that today.”

He smiled and coughed slightly but held you closer as you sat up in his lap and pressed his face into the exposed skin of your shoulder. Your hand dove into his hair more on instinct than anything else and he let out a shuddery exhale beneath you.

It’s just his body’s instinct, you told yourself to stifle your excitement. He’s probably…touch-starved or something. Although that wasn’t entirely true. He never hesitated to be physically affectionate to anyone, you included. And if his friendly little touches set you on fire, the way he was nearly trying to meld into you and hold you close now had your whole body pulsing.

Commotion and several cries behind you caught your attention. Two of the guests were wrestling on the floor in a fistfight. Luke held you tighter and turned in his chair to shield you with his body. He turned back to you, hovering his mouth close to your ear. “Here’s your distraction—go and be careful.”

You nodded before scrambling off his lap. In the other slaves’ and guests’ haste to get out of the way, you slipped through an unguarded doorway and melted into the shadows of the hall.

***

You felt Luke’s Force signature reach for yours, anticipation and worry clouding his mind as you sensed him coming closer. You almost smacked straight into his chest as you weaved through the drunk, animated crowd in the throne room.

Luke grabbed your upper arm in his hand, the question burning in his eyes and only relaxing when you nodded. “The fight is starting soon. We’re supposed to go to the prep room now. A lot of people are taking their consorts with them, so you should probably come with me to blend.”

You sensed another reason he wanted you with him, but merely nodded and let him lead you down a short hallway. Through a small, oval door sat a large, plain room with closed bay doors on the opposite side. Several plush chairs and tables covered with drinks and food bordered the walls. Medical droids hovered in the corner as Halfoc’s guards eyed the large group of guests and slaves meandering through the two other oval doors scattered along the back wall.

Luke’s hand gripped yours tightly as the two of you made your way into an open corner. He grabbed your waist and gently turned you away from the others, putting your hand on the lightsaber at his belt. With a combination of his cape and your skirt, you transferred his weapon into the holster hidden on your thigh, pinning it next to your own saber. His fingers brushed your bare leg in the exchange and you couldn’t help the resulting goosebumps and shiver.

He grimaced. “I would offer you my cape, but they would probably think that was too gentlemanly for a crime lord and his consort.”

You took a deep breath. “I’m okay.”

His blue eyes stared intently into your own and you felt his concern bleed into the Force. “Are you sure?”

You nodded, glancing behind him at the approaching redhead. He was short, portly, and dressed to the nines with a large Rodian following behind him. You couldn’t help wrinkling your nose at his slimy demeanor. “I think Halfoc’s coming to wish you luck.”

Luke’s eyes lingered on you for a moment before he closed them, taking a deep breath. When he opened them again, the crime lord persona was back in place in all its unfeeling glory. It was strangely terrifying and alluring at the same time. As he turned to meet Halfoc, his hand moving to tightly grasp your waist and pull you flush against him, you couldn’t help but think if he was a true crime lord, he would’ve easily had his pick of any man or woman in this room.

“Anberrie, isn’t it?” the man asked, coming to a halt before you. The Rodian stood silently at attention behind him with two other men in imperial uniforms. You could feel the Force flowing strongly from him and Luke’s gentle squeeze to your hip told you he did, too.

“Yes,” Luke replied. “Halfoc, I take it? Quite the party.”

Halfoc laughed. “The one and only. I throw many of these bashes but have never seen you at one. You must be a newcomer. What exactly is your business?”

“Spice trade.”

Halfoc chuckled. “Ah, yes, I’m very familiar with spice.”

Their conversation became lost to you as the Rodian shifted. The intel hadn’t said whether he was protecting Halfoc or sticking close by because of the deal they’d just made in the back offices—the one they thought had been private and unrecorded. His dark eyes studied you shamelessly, flitting up and down your frame. He glanced at one of the imperial officers before subtly flicking his hand as if swatting a fly. You felt the Force flow as the slit in your skirt was wrenched open. Before it could fly too far, Luke’s hand slid further down your waist to hold the skirt in place. His hand was practically on your butt with the angle he had to take to preserve your dignity, the movement pressing you even closer against him. You could feel the muscles of his chest and arms from the proximity and took a steadying breath.

The Rodian’s eyes fell to Luke’s hand and narrowed, finally taking in your companion. You glanced up to see Luke meeting the alien’s eyes with just as much intensity.

“Now, now, let’s play nicely,” Halfoc said. “This is my newest business associate and his own personal retinue…I trust their presence won’t be a problem?”

Luke turned his attention back to the man in front of him and gave him a cold smile. “Of course not. We’re only interested in securing more business, not trouble.”

Halfoc clapped Luke on the arm. “That’s what I like to hear. The fight will begin in a few minutes. You’ll be asked to remove any capes, jackets, and weapons on your person and give them to my guards for safekeeping. They’ll be returned to you after the fight, of course.” His eyes finally fell to you. “Quite the lovely arm candy you’ve got there. Mind if I—”

Luke turned to shield you with his body as Halfoc’s hand made a grab at your chest, his gloved hand securely holding your hip while his flesh hand pressed against the bare skin of your back to hold you close. “I do mind, actually.”

Halfoc’s eyebrows rose, but he laughed. “Well, to each his own. Be a good girl and give your master a good luck kiss, then.”

Luke turned to you with soft, concerned eyes. You licked your lips and stared for a moment before pressing a light kiss to the sharp line of his jaw, letting your lips linger selfishly. You felt his arousal grow through the Force and heard him take in a quiet hiss of breath as his gloved fingers tightened around your waist.

“Oh, come on,” Halfoc groaned. “A real one. You can’t be that stingy with her and then not take what you want. Don’t bother with consent from these types, boy.”

You felt Luke’s mix of disgust, concern, and anxiety through the Force.

Don’t blow our cover, you sent to him. Plus the Rodian is so close.

Luke closed his eyes for a moment. Are you sure? I won’t do it without your consent, no matter what Halfoc says…And it will have to be a bit rough to be believable.

You hesitated. Do it.

I’m so sorry.

It’s all right.

Luke’s flesh hand left your back to roughly cup both sides of your jaw. His face dove towards yours at a startling speed, but stopped just as his lips brushed against yours. You took a shaky breath in at the same time he did before he pressed a firm, but soft kiss to your lips.

You thought you heard Halfoc’s distant “there you go” before sensing him leave with his entourage, but couldn’t be sure. All you were sure of was how soft Luke’s lips were against yours. You’d pictured this moment so many times and only wished that it was real—maybe in the cockpit of the Redeemer, safely nestled in Luke’s lap in the pilot seat. The image only heightened your arousal and you couldn’t help melting into him as his hand glided down your neck and to the exposed skin at the small of your back.

You finally had to break for air and were surprised when he panted into your mouth just as hard as you. His flesh fingers gently traced shapes against your skin, finally flattening his palm out to slide up and down your spine before diving into the curls of your half-updo. You weren’t sure if he bent his head to continue the kiss first or if you did, but you wouldn’t be the one to end it. He tasted of something distinctly Luke that you couldn’t quite describe, but knew you wanted to experience every day for the rest of your life. As you sunk further into his embrace, he only pulled you closer, his gloved hand digging gently into your hip as yours slid up his chest to dive into the hair at the nape of his neck. He gasped against your lips as your fingers entwined with the soft strands. You could sense his excitement peaking through the bond you shared—and with a little embarrassment, realized you felt something else peaking against you that did not help your current predicament. A soft moan left your mouth before you could stop it, and the whole situation felt like a crime of a different kind. He didn’t seem to notice before a quiet groan left him as well.

You forced yourself to separate your lips from his, trying to keep your gasps for air to a minimum. He pressed his forehead to yours and closed his eyes, keeping a gentle, yet firm grip on you as he shuddered out his own breath. The hand on the small of your back slowly slid to your side. “Maker, you’re so soft,” he murmured. You felt his sudden humiliation bloom as his face turned an adorable shade of red. He pulled away from you and you bit back your laugh as he cleared his throat for the umpteenth time. “Sorry, I—I’m sorry.”

Before you could reply, the large bay doors opened behind him. Cheers and screams from the crowd assembled in the amphitheater seats poured in, as did a strong buffet of wind that blew Luke’s hair into his eyes. He blinked, letting out a stuttered whoosh as your fingers gently combed the strands back into place. He pressed his forehead to yours again for a brief moment before leaving a quick, light kiss on your forehead.

“Be careful,” you whispered.

“Only if you are,” he murmured as he hesitantly took a few steps back. You grabbed his hand and he gave you a reassuring squeeze. His eyes fell to your skirt billowing around your legs from the breeze, the slit now fully open and exposed. His eyes closed and another shuddery exhale seemed to leave him of its own accord before he turned away from you, letting your hand trail out of his as he made his way to the arena. As he removed his cape and tactical belt and handed it to a guard, you caught him licking his lips, letting his tongue linger for a moment longer than necessary.

You took your own deep breath, doing your best to stifle your concern as the announcer began to call out opponents. Each winner had to fight a new opponent and although it felt like an eternity as you wondered when Luke would be called and who he would be fighting, it gave you a good opportunity to ogle his back. His shirt was thin to account for the heat and clung to him in all the right places—and so did the pants.

As Luke waited with the other contestants, you noticed the Rodian and his guards were nowhere to be found. Just as you reached out with the Force, Halfoc sidled up next to you. He was shorter than you by several inches and you couldn’t keep the disgust from your face as he smirked and gently patted your butt. “Well, hello there, lovely. Now that your master’s occupied—”

“Anberrie, step forward,” the announcer’s voice rang throughout the arena.

Luke strode confidently forward, a standard-issue spear from the guard in his hand. He paused as the most recent winner stalked towards him, watching in confusion as he walked past Luke and back through the bay doors to sit down. A barred gate slid open with a screech on the other side of the arena and the Rodian—who stood several inches taller than Luke—made his way to the center of the stage. “Anberrie Darklighter versus Aros Tanwa.” The crowd cheered as he ignited a red lightsaber.

Luke turned to you in concern just as Halfoc began, “I couldn’t help but notice those kisses and touches were a bit…romantic for a master and his slave.” His beady eyes gleamed in the light of the suns. “Unless, of course, you’re not actually who you say you are.”

Several of Halfoc’s guards whirled around and pointed their blasters and spears at you as Aros’ imperial guards suddenly lunged out of the nearest door towards you. You yanked your lightsaber from your leg and ignited the blade, throwing Luke’s towards him and using the Force to guide it along its path to his hand.

Luke dropped his spear and activated his saber just as Aros jumped towards him, blocking a flurry of blows to the screams and boos of the audience. Halfoc’s guards yanked their master out of the way as you swung your own weapon, blocking several blaster shots and slicing the guards’ spears in half. The other guests dove for cover, joining the firefight, as their consorts fled into the throne room.

You deflected more fire, using the Force to throw objects in your pursuers’ path and fling them back several feet whenever they got too close. You carefully carved a path to Luke’s side and shielded his back while he dealt with Aros.

The recording of the meeting— Luke began.

Already sent it to Mothma. Now focus.

Aros suddenly backflipped into the stands, several spectators moving out of the way to allow him room, and disappeared into the crowd. A large roar filled the air from beyond the gate. The bay doors began to close and you and Luke glanced at each other before making a run for it. Another deep wail filled the air behind you as you blocked more blaster shots, tripping over your swirling skirts and sprawling to the ground. Luke glanced back and skidded to a halt.

“No, keep going!”

He sprinted back over to you, crouching just in time for another angry bellow to call your attention. A shadow loomed inside the gate, taking up the entire frame, before a Reek Bull emerged into the light of the desert. Its nose ring rattled as it shook its head, pawing at the ground and eyeing the two Jedi now trapped inside.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” you grumbled as the bull charged toward you.

You rolled one way while Luke jumped the other as the animal approached you with surprising speed. It slowed to a halt just as the bay doors closed. From a high point in the stands, Aros flipped onto the bull’s back and used it as a launching point to dive at you. You rolled out of the way again before leaping to your feet and landing a hard kick in the center of the Rodian’s chest, using the Force to give it some extra oomph. He flew back with an oof and smacked into the bull’s side. The bull turned from where it was glaring Luke down to rocket Aros in a new direction with his front foot. You used the Force to grab the Sith’s body and fling him into a merchant’s display in the stands. Bits and bobbles went flying and the wood of the stall splintered and collapsed on top of him, buying you enough time to block more blaster fire.

Several of Halfoc’s guards jumped over the railing into the arena as the host’s voice called over the loudspeaker, “I want them alive for the moff!”

The guards weren’t much of a challenge for the Force and your lightsaber. The last few in the group fled towards the edge of the ring, raining fire at you until they were cut down by their own deflected shots. As the last of them fell, you felt a strange tingling sensation. Before you could ignore it and turn to help Luke, your entire nervous system jolted and shook under your skin. You crumpled into a heap on the ground as your muscles no longer obeyed your commands and your bones rattled inside your frame. Glancing down showed blue energy crackling around your shock cuffs and traveling up and down your arms, legs, and torso. You screwed your eyes shut and thrashed against the burning sensation, unable to contain a scream.

You thought you heard Luke call your name but couldn’t be sure over the popping in your ears. You risked a glance up to see imperial guards speeding towards you with electrostaffs before you curled into a ball again as more shockwaves rocked your body. The ground shook as the bull hurtled towards you. But instead of the feet of the beast or pointed edges of a spear greeting you, there were several screams and silence before you felt the cuffs split from your skin and fall to the sandy ground below.

You took several gulping breaths as you lay there shaking and whimpering. Luke was by your side in an instant, gently pulling you into his arms bridal style. “I’m sorry,” he murmured in your ear as he carried you towards the now docile and waiting bull. “Aros used the Force to activate the cuffs before running off.”

You looked around from the safety of Luke’s chest. The arena was in total chaos as guests ran screaming to the exits while the guards were busy fending off several more beasts that had escaped their cages and fled into the arena. A few had even scaled the railing and were running among the seats snapping up forgotten food and drink.

The bull sighed and lowered itself onto its belly as Luke approached. He gently helped you onto its back before climbing up behind you.

“Did you tame it?” you asked, your voice hoarse.

“Yes,” he replied, giving it a firm smack to the butt to urge it toward the arena's gate. “And I’ll be freeing it after we get out of here—hold on!”

He wrapped an arm around your waist while tightly holding the chain attached to the bull’s nose ring. The creature sped towards the gate, gaining momentum as it went and lowering its head. The guards dove out of the way with a yelp as the bull’s front horn shattered the doors and you careened into the open desert.

The ride was jarring to say the least, which didn’t help your screaming muscles and joints. You teetered on the bull’s back as your head spun and body ached only for Luke to pull you against him. You let your head fall against his shoulder, sinking into his solid chest and closing your eyes. His thumb rubbed soothing circles against your waist and you weaved your fingers through his, giving him a gentle squeeze as he gently brushed the tip of his nose against your cheek.

It was impossible to fall asleep on the bull’s back, but you still weren’t sure how much time had passed when Luke said, “Do you think you can jump?”

You nodded before sitting up with his help and swinging your legs over the side. He did the same, staring at you in concern before grabbing your hand. You both slid down the beast’s leathery side in unison as it roared before continuing its path past the neighborhood hiding your supply stash.

A strong wind buffeted the two of you as you approached the modest stone and clay houses. People hurried to and fro to collect their laundry and children alike and ushered them inside.

“What’s happening?” you asked as you followed Luke down an alleyway.

He still gripped your hand tightly, only letting go to dig in a chest buried in a corner between two buildings. The narrow strip between houses created a wind tunnel and you watched his golden-brown hair dance in awe, resisting the urge to reach out and smooth it back into place. As it whipped away from his ear, it allowed a peek at the sharp line of his jaw, bringing back memories of the way that exact spot had tasted against your lips earlier—

“Y/N? Are you all right? Did you hear me?”

You blinked and met his worried blue eyes where he was still crouched over the open chest. “What? Sorry.”

He slung his pack over his shoulder and stood, retaking your hand. “I said a sandstorm is starting, so we need to find shelter. We won’t make it back to the ship in time without a speeder, which I doubt these people have to spare. This is a poorer neighborhood.”

You nodded, reaching for your own pack. “How long do we have?”

“Not long—here, let me carry that.”

“But I’m fine—”

“I insist.” He hauled your bag on top of his own, leading you back out into the main thoroughfare.

Before you could get far, a woman with a baby strapped to her front met your eyes. Luke reached out a hand to stop her as the wind practically knocked you over in your weakened state. You felt you’d float away if you weren’t careful. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders to steady you before shouting to be heard over the building gale. “Do you know a place where we can wait this out?”

“There’s a homestead that’s been abandoned for a while, about a half hour’s walk that way. It’s a bit old and decrepit, but it’s better than nothing. I would offer my place if I had room, but I’m staying with my mother and we’re full to the brim.”

“That’s all right, thank you.”

“Do you want me to see if I have some sort of wrap for your wife at home? That dress can’t be comfortable.”

You felt your cheeks warm, meeting Luke’s eyes as his own colored slightly. He squeezed your hand. “I have something for her, but thank you again.”

She nodded before scurrying off, using her sleeve to cover her child’s face.

“Here, hold on a minute.” Luke set your packs down, digging through his before pulling out his cloak. He paused, taking a shaky breath as a gust of wind parted the slit in your skirt again, sending it billowing behind you. Before you could be too embarrassed, a wave of dizziness overtook you and you grabbed his arm. Luke caught you against his chest before wrapping his cloak around you. “I’m going to fasten this by your waist so you have more coverage for your legs. Do you think you can hold it by your chest?”

You nodded, keeping a hole open to loop your arm through while holding the fabric closed in your fist. Luke took your hand and started in the direction the woman had pointed.

“Do you know where she’s sending us?”

Luke swallowed hard and nodded, squeezing your hand. “I do.”

“Where?”

“…A burned down farm.”