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atzfilm · 10 months

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winter blossom (m)

pairing/wc: k.yeosang x reader (10.1k)

genre: alien au, secret relationship

warnings: smut, mentions of murder/injuries, petnames

summary: earth abandoned centuries ago, you travel the cosmos alone. you land on a smaller planet, meeting an exiled dweller that calls himself yeosang.

— part of the ...and it's snowing collab!

Space has always been noisy. Ships riding past you in the low lights, stars sparkling in far away galaxies, the rumbling of your own engines enough to fill what small amount of peace you have alone.

You sit in front of the navigation screen, eyes flicking over the map. You have little fuel left and perhaps you overestimated how much you'll be needing before the next port. It's several hundreds of thousands kilometers away and you barely have enough to make it halfway there. Sure, there's planets in between that you can land at but it's a risk. Most hate humans, hate their existence entirely. Once they see you, you may be taken – either killed or used for parts. You rub your face, looking over your options. You won't make it to the next large port, that's for sure. Waiting out in open space is unreliable – pirates can get to you quicker than a space marshal would.

You groan, a planet close enough for you to land on. One you haven't heard of before.

Elysium.

You glance to the side, typing up the name into your database.

Elysium. Planet primarily consists of thickened forestry and large oceans, similar climate to the planet Earth. Population of three million, ruling under a monarchy. Temperament toward humans is neutral. Climate: Snow.

It ticks off enough boxes for you to decide to land, setting the destination point for Elysium as well as instructions and identification to the port for approval. You grab your telecommunicator and walk off away from the screen, readying yourself to land in the next few days.

“Hey pretty girl,” you walk past the framed photo of your passed cat, pressing your lips on the glass before moving on. Everything is tied down, thankfully, nothing out of place. You jog down the corridor, glancing in each room. All of it is secure since no one has lived in for ages, commotion from prior years of having a crew absolute. It wasn't anything bad for why they left – you all had different ideas on how to make money. Yours was simple, collecting mostly artifacts and lost space junk, getting a heap of coins every now and then. It's a simple life. Alone, yes, but it's fine. Nothing you've haven't grown used to.

After checking all of the rooms you move back into the navigation room, throwing yourself on

the fold up bed you've stored there. You can't remember the last time you slept in your own bed – it's probably been months. Being alone has made you more wary of leaving the room without an attendant. Anything could happen between the distance of your room and here. You'd rather deal with it straight on than wasting precious seconds running toward it. You tuck yourself beneath the sheets, eyes glued to the wide windows showcasing space.

The port is quiet as you land. Ships stationed in several spots, but you only see a few patrollers out and about. You grab your mask and place it over your face, suit already on as you exit the craft. An Elysium, taller than you by almost a foot, comes toward you. You read in the brief biography that they're quite tall in comparison to the average human. That you can clearly see as he stands in front of you. Most of the other traits are the same except for pointer ears, irises a lighter blue. Skin pale and almost translucent, lips a light pink. As if they haven't seen the light of day for ages. His head tilts as he looks down at you, surprised.

“A human on Elysium? I never thought I'd see the day,”

You bow slightly at the guard, holding out your identification and paperwork. “Yes sir. I have all the proper paperwork. I'm here to fuel up before the next stop.”

“Ah, quite far from Candor,” he glances over the paperwork. “It looks in order. Unfortunately for you, we no longer have enough fuel for an aircraft the size of yours.”

“Are you sure? I checked the database to confirm you had the capabilities for fuel and –”

“Oh we do have the capabilities, human,” he nods. “But we've slowed down on our supply since not many land on our port. We can give you fuel, yes, but it will take a few weeks in human time to fuel up that tank enough to get you to the next destination.”

There's nothing else you can do. You take your identification back from him, knowing what you have to ask next.

“Where can I stay while I wait?”

—

You hold the glass in your hand, staring at the seeds swirling in the water. The bartender insisted that it was made for a human's palate, but you almost gagged at the taste. Water this acidic couldn't possibly be water at all. Your helmet and suit rests on the seat next to you. After a quick chat with the guard stationed at the port, and a small device placed beneath your skin, your body is accustomed to the climate of Elysium. You’re all but ungrateful, the heavy material of the suit would only make your stay feel so much longer. Your eyes move to the table, wanted photos seemingly solidified in the glass. Your gaze strays to one in particular.

His presence stood out amongst the fugitives. Hair darker than what you've seen around, eyes staring into yours. His beauty is beyond any of what you've seen so far around here – and that's saying something. Skin covered in … glitter? A birthmark on the left side of his face. Some would say it would lessen his beauty, but it only exemplifies it for you. Your finger traces the outline of his figure, reading the description. It's conveniently in a language you can understand.

Kang Yeosang, Prince of Elysium. Wanted for the murder of the King of Elysium. Bounty set at 4,979,990 Elp.

He is a prince? It makes sense, you can see his commanding aura through the thin paper. But why would he kill the king? You presume it's his relative, father or uncle maybe. You can only snort to yourself, shaking your head. He should have had a maid or butler perform the task if he wanted the throne so desperately. The bounty is high, though. Higher than you've ever seen it. Enough to set you for life and then some.

“He has been forgotten for over a century, human,” A voice pulls you away from the table. You look up, meeting the eyes of another Elysium. His hair is a deep blue, skin covered in bandages. He sits at your table without even a hint of an invitation from yourself, humming. “Neither Elysium high guard or the most elite bounty hunters have been able to find where he resides. This planet has been torn apart for decades. Most have accepted that he is no longer alive. I doubt a human like yourself would be able to find him.”

“Well stranger,” you take another slow sip of your drink, wincing at the taste. “I never said I would be hunting for the forgotten prince and neither do I want to, seeming as he hasn't been found in so long. Trying to read the emotions of a person you don't know doesn't seem to be your strong suit.” You roll your eyes, looking away from him. All you're trying to do is stay under the radar, keep to yourself. Weeks of avoiding unneeded conversation is going to be rough, but you'd rather not start messing up your plan right now with an Elysium that's trying to read your mind.

“You were thinking it, I could tell.” He shrugs.

You narrow your eyes now. Taking the bait surely, you continue, “And how can you read my mind? Is that an ability many of you have? Because it doesn't seem to be working all too well.”

“Ignoring that snide remark of yours, it’s because of your ship,” he glances out the door for a moment. “Before it was just you, there was a whole crew. You were bounty hunters back then, finding lost men and growing. You were quite notorious too, until that crew of yours broke apart. Quite unfortunate now, you could have found the biggest bounty yet if you came here back then.”

“I only deal in antiques now,” you retort. The past is the past. And notorious? You doubt the crew was that popular. Maybe relatively known, but not famous. Just reliable. “And I don't remember seeing you around the port when I was parking.” You would have remembered a face like his. His lips curve at your words, shrugging.

“I'm forgettable. My name is San, by the way,” he holds out his gloved hand. You take it, shaking it. “I'm the owner of this bar, and the man who will be showing you to your room next door.”

“You own both?” Your brow raises.

He nods. “Family business. Whenever you're ready just find me. I’ll be out and about.”

You stare at the lack of clothing in your carry-on bag, knowing you’ll have to go back to your ship soon to grab some more supplies. You rub your face, sinking into the bed. This is exactly what you didn’t want. Familiarity, staying longer than necessary. If the government let you rest on your ship you would have. But instead, you’re stuck in a hotel, waiting impatiently for your fuel. You glance at the door. Secured with makeshift objects you kept on your person, a bell twisted around the doorknob. San insisted that this place is safe, but you’d rather not take the chance. Especially as one of the only humans on this entire planet.

“Hell,” you murmur, looking out the window. The planet is known to be dark at night, which only adds more sense to why their skin glows. You look at the streets, shimmering Elysium walking every which way, bright against the streets. It is beautiful, enough for your eyes to continue to wander, lids growing heavy enough to fall unconscious.

The rattling is what woke you up. You leaned forward almost immediately, fingers reaching for the knife beneath your pillow you took off your plate at dinner. Coming up empty handed, you slide off the bed, hands up slightly. Your eyes barely get a chance to adjust to your dark room, but you see them. Their skin brightens up the room, glowing against the walls. They hold up the knife, crushing it between their fingers. You swallow, shooting a fleeting glance at the door. They stand in between you and your escape. You could jump from the window, but it’s several stories above the ground. You doubt you’d survive the landing. They take a step toward you and your body stiffens.

“What do you want? Elp? Artifacts? I have none, they’re all on my ship.”

They hesitate for a brief moment at your words. “Your ship?” Their voice echoes around the room, smooth and deep. Pretty, despite the circumstances. “You have a ship?”

You curse yourself, nodding slowly. “I do. It has no fuel, so you won’t be able to get anywhere with it.”

“But you have a ship,” they confirm. “You can leave this planet.”

“Is that what you want? What are you, a fugitive?” Their skin's luminescence softens at your words. It's almost enough for you to make out their features. In that brief hesitance, they look eerily familiar. You don't get the chance to look any closer though, skin back to where it was. “I can help you.”

“I need to leave. When will you be free to go?”

Good question. “Maybe a few weeks? They said it'll take a while.” Why the hell are you negotiating with a bright spot? Just as you open your mouth again, they interrupt.

“I will be back.”

They dissipate in front of you in a blink, gone from your sight. You drop your arms, chest throbbing, breaths quick. You stand still for a few more minutes. After realizing that they're truly gone, you drop your hands. The smart thing to do is tell San what happened. But your gut is telling you otherwise. It was strange to say the least. But you can't think of leaving to complain to San about someone who might just be a figment of your imagination in your tired state. You convince yourself as such, moving closer to the door. The bell and other contraptions are still in the same place you left them. You walk back to your bed, a cold metal touching your foot. Glancing down, you see the pile of dust.

The knife they crushed.

—

You soon convinced yourself it was a dream despite the circumstances. The knife could have been fragile. You could have somehow imagined the pile of dust. All of these explanations ignore the feeling in your gut. It dwells. No one has bothered you much for the past few days. A little talk here and there, but most left you alone. San, you've grown to notice, speaks to everyone and anyone around his tavern and hotel. And it seems that everyone knows him well, his loud laugh echoing around every room he's in. It brings you comfort. Enough to hide that sinking feeling.

You sit outside, staring out into the thickened leaves and trees. They're nothing like what you've seen, vines tight, barely any signs of movement. As if it knows you're watching. So still that your gaze moves to the rustling of leaves. You tense, glancing around. No one is out and about. Only you in this area. Just as you begin to stand, you see him.

His hair is long, pulled back from his face with braided strings. His eyes are iridescent, still on yours as he makes his way to you. His movements are elegant, hands tucked into his jacket, hidden from view. There's only one person he could be – the Elysium from your bedroom. As he moves closer, you see it. The birthmark near his eye, extending to his temple. Pretty, but deadly, in these circumstances. He pauses in his movement, noticing your shift of focus.

“You know me,” his voice is softer, hesitance wrapped around each word. “You told me you were a human.”

You can't begin to speak, slowly standing up from your spot. Having the exiled crown prince standing in front of you, especially after all San said about his disappearance. What kind of luck do you have?

“I am.”

His eyes narrow, “Then how do you know me?”

“You are the forgotten one. How could anyone not know you? I –” You glance back. “I don't want to be involved in whatever you're planning.”

“I want to leave the planet.”

“Leave? You've been gone for a century, you could have left anytime you wanted. They forgot about you. Why are you trying to hitch a ride with me? What's your plan?”

He stares at you, silent. Your irritation makes your fear lessen, waiting for his response. He merely sighs, staring at the grass beneath his feet. “Humans have rarely landed on our planet. Each time, they refused to help me. Which is why I am asking you.”

“And why would I help you? If someone caught me, I could be killed. You murdered the king. That's not a petty crime.”

His jaw tightens at the mention of the past. Knowing you very much made a mistake, you backtrack. “I don't know you well enough to listen to what you have to say.”

“So why do you listen to what the others say? Do you know Elysium well at all? Why listen to the words of beings you have never come across? Why not listen to my words?”

You pause, unsure of how to answer. Sure, you can listen to the masses, take their word for it and report that you certainly have seen the lost prince. Or you can keep this quiet, decide on whether you want to save him. The longer he stares and waits for a response, the more you're sure of your decision.

“Did you kill him?” You ask.

“Yes.”

“Did you do it on purpose?”

“Yes.”

“Did you have no other choice?”

“...Yes,” he takes a breath. “If I didn't, more Elysium would have been killed. I had no other choice.”

There is no wavering in his tone. He says it strongly, a furrow of his brow. Lost, maybe hurt. But he is sure.

“Okay,” you glance around. “I will get you out of here. But once we land at the next port, you're gone. And we will pretend none of this happened.”

“I'll follow your words, human.”

“y/n,” you correct. “My name is y/n.”

—

“You’ve been out and about a lot these past few days.”

San glances up from cleaning the glass, leg resting on the edge of the chair. You have avoided him since your encounter with the lost prince. You doubt he can read your mind, mostly, but being around Elysium when you’re hiding the most sought out of them all is not exactly something you’d like to do. Especially since you’re growing a soft spot for San. Another thing you didn’t want to do. Unfortunately for you - he’s too kind not to.

“Am I not allowed to explore the planet I'm inhabiting temporarily?”

He purses his lips, leaning against the arm of the broom between his clothed fingers. “You are, of course. Just strange, the way you’ve been acting. Anytime someone asks where you’ve been, you look as if you’ve seen a ghost. Just what are you hiding, y/n?” His brown lifts, glancing between your eyes. “Or is it best that I not know about it?”

Do you trust him enough to spill what you’ve been hiding? Yeosang has warned you, especially tonight, not to say a word. Out of fear or otherwise. So though San is trustworthy enough, you can’t quite tell him. Not yet, or ever, really. You merely shake your head, and he nods in understanding.

“Fair enough. I hope you keep your radio line open, y/n. I’d hate to lose contact with you.”

You leave the hotel tonight after weeks of staying, petrol finally filled to the brim in your ship. You’ve spent all day filling up your storage with preservatives enough for your long journey and then some. The guard was curious that you had so much, enough for several people. He even inquired as to if you’ve found a life partner on Elysium. You denied it and he only waved you off.

San passes you a small bag of snacks you ordered earlier and you thank him, your hands brushing against each other. The leather encompassing his holds yours for a moment, a small smile on his lips. “There’s a small map in there to an entrance to the docks that no one takes anymore, out of commission. It so happens to be behind your ship, exactly where you parked it. No one would see it since it’s out of view from prying eyes. Someone would advise someone else to take it, using that little pill in that bag. It’ll show whoever it is as someone else temporarily. Not long enough to hang around for hours, but enough. In case, of course.”

He lets go of your hand, smile wavering. “Be safe, y/n. I trust you, even though I haven’t earned your trust yet.”

“San–”

He holds up his hand, shaking his head. “Don’t want to know my friend. Safe travels, keep that radio on. Don’t forget me and call if your journey is too boring, or if you’re tired of him.”

He doesn’t say anything more, grabbing his towel and broom, disappearing into the back of the bar. You grip the bag tightly, grateful that you’ve met him.

–

“It is safe?” Yeosang holds the pill in his hand. You’ve thrown a large coat around his body, the scraps of clothing that he has now not merely enough to make him look like a normal Elysium. The snow does not seem to bother him the way it bothers you, he himself ignoring how the flakes stick to his cheeks. “You’re sure of this?”

“I am,” There’s no need to expand on how or who gave you those pills, exactly. But you think you can trust him. You hope you can. Since he knows what you’re doing, he could have spilled it long ago. But he didn’t, and that’s enough for you.

His soft eyes watch yours. There’s fear of the unknown hidden between the irises, the slow blinks. He has trusted you up to this point. You’re not sure why he decided to grab a random human to help him, but he did, and it’s you. You’ve gotten this far, you wouldn’t betray him. Giving up your life for him is definitely a stretch, but you’d help him in any way you can. And those worried eyes do nothing but make your chest swell. You will help the forgotten prince off this cursed planet. Taking your silence as an answer, he swallows the pill, grabbing the bottle from your hand and drinks the water. You watch him as he stands very still. As if he’s waiting for his death to come. Instead what you see – you can only describe it as magical.

The dark, black hair of his disappears into a lighter blond, softer features hardening, delicate nose changing. Kang Yeosang is nothing like himself. He seems to have shortened in height as well, leveled with you. His eyes stay on yours though, now brown eyes hesitate. Without thinking, you reach out, brushing his wavy hair away from his face. It is not Yeosang in appearance, no, but you can still see him through the disguise. You reach into your pocket, pulling out your small pocket knife, showing him his expression through the reflective metal.

He laughs, shaking his head, “How horrid,” his voice is obscenely deep. Almost obnoxiously so. “What a relief you didn’t want to kill me.”

“I wouldn’t have, you know that,” you roll your eyes.

“I do,” he agrees simply. “Let us go?”

You nod, slipping your fingers into his. He stills for a moment, letting you pull him out from the forest. There’s plenty of people around but none pay attention to either of you. Yeosang’s grip tightens in yours, stiffer as he stands close to you. He hasn’t been around his people in so long, it must be jarring to see them not give him a second glance. Not shame him for what he’s done. You’d like to pick his brain on what he’s feeling right now but you have a task to complete.

You look around, entering the port through the back. It is as San said, no one around, no one to bother the two of you. You quickly open the back door of your ship, ushering him inside. He is a bit hesitant as he stands there, almost forcing you to push him into the ship. He turns to you, eyes widening. “You are not entering?”

“Not back here, I have to go around the front and grab my papers before leaving. I’ll be back.”

You take a step back and he moves a bit forward again, as if to follow you. “Hey, stay in there–”

“You wouldn’t leave me, right?” His words are soft now, the tone of Yeosang’s voice you’ve grown accustomed to. “You would come back?”

You look around, before stepping forward. You hold his face between your hands, “I will not leave you, alright? I am coming back, just give me a few minutes. I’m not lying to you. I promise you this.”

The tension in his shoulders dropped slightly, “Okay. I will hold you to that.” His lips press against the inside of your wrist, stepping back. You quickly move down the ramp, shutting the doors. Ignoring the beating of your heart in your ears, the warming of your face. There’s no time to worry about that now. You have more important things to do, like lie to the guard and smuggle off a fugitive worth more money than you can comprehend.

It’s been a few hours since you’ve left Elysium. You know Yeosang is still on, from the rummaging in the room you told him to stay in. You haven’t entered only to give him privacy. In fact, you haven’t seen him since you closed that ramp. The magic has definitely worn off by now. You did want to check but decided against it. Whatever he’s going through right now you’re letting him process it slowly. Hopefully carefully, knowing you have valuables in the room he’s staying in.

You sit at the control table, slowly eating a snack San handed to you. You radioed him just after you left to let him know that you were safe and everything was handled, and he sighed very loudly in relief, explaining that he definitely was not sitting around waiting for your call (he was) or that he thought you might have been taken (he definitely did think so). You reassured him with simple words, not enough to say what you mean, but enough for him to understand. The call was quick, ending with a simple goodbye. You will miss him endlessly, but landing on that planet again wouldn’t be in your favor. That’s your first and last time ever in that sector. Or near it at all. The next port is a couple weeks away, but you have enough fuel to go much farther. You want to discuss with Yeosang and see what he thinks, but he still hasn’t left his room.

Very smart of you to take a banished prince into your ship without knowing anything but what he’s told you.

The hum of the spaceship's engines echoed through the metal walls as you stared at the cameras. You glance at the closed door of the guest quarters, mind swirling with apprehension. The decision to let a stranger on board has always come with its own set of risks, and you just cannot shake the memories of a past experience that had gone terribly wrong.

A few solar cycles ago, you did something similar, made the mistake of extending hospitality to a different traveler stranded on a desolate moon. The person seemed fairly harmless at first, grateful for shelter and food. As the days passed, you noticed a few things off - stolen data from your harddrive corrupt, and before you could even confront them they took the rescue sub and left, leaving you to deal with the aftermath of compromised security, and lack of an escape. It took you months to get something to replace it. The weight of that previous betrayal still hangs heavy on your shoulders; sleepless nights spent trying to repair the damage, the sense of disgust that lingered long after the unwelcome guest had departed, regret that you even trusted a person enough to leave them alone around your things.

Your fingers trace the edge of the data pad, a holographic display of Yeosang’s past. The background check had little, just a brief history of what happened. Nothing to tell you about him, really, just what his people now think of him. Still, you cannot shake the feeling that history might be repeating itself.

"Am I being too paranoid?" you murmur yourself, glancing at the viewscreen that displays the vastness of space outside. "Hell."

Perhaps establishing additional security measures?

You hesitate for a moment. You think you trust him, you do. You trust him enough to leave him around your valuables without thinking twice. So you drop your hand from the screen, shaking your head. If everything messes up, it’ll only be your fault, no one else’s. You move from your spot, approaching the small bed in the corner. Deep sleep will evade you since you’re on board with a fugitive, but your lids are too heavy to ignore. You tuck yourself beneath the blanket, blinking slowly as you stare out the windows. You made a choice. A big choice.

You just hope it’s the right one.

“You’re quiet.”

You look up from your food, Yeosang slowly approaching you. He wears the clothing you’ve left in that room for him. Though a bit tight, and silly looking, it’ll fit for now. Nothing like what royalty would wear. You reach back, passing him a bowl that you’ve already made for him. In case he decided to appear in front of you.

He widens his eyes as you sit it across from you, gesturing for him to dig in. You take another bite as he slowly sits down. “You made this for me?”

“You haven’t eaten in days. I know Elysium aren’t the same as me, but you have to eat, Yeosang. You can’t survive on just water.”

“I can for a few months,” he says. Just as you’re about to apologize for your assumption, you see the slight smile on his lips. You roll your eyes, continuing to eat. “I’m grateful for your presence, and your thoughtfulness, y/n. I wouldn’t have been able to choose anyone better to help me leave.”

You shake your head, “It’s nothing-”

“It is something,” he interrupts, “I essentially forced you to take me off that planet. And you obliged without much hesitation. You risked yourself for me. There’s no way I can repay what you have done for me, nothing. I can only remain forever in your debt.”

You think for a moment before speaking. “I trust you Yeosang, I hope you know that. I wouldn't have let you on this ship with me if I didn't. I know that you’ve done it for a reason, and if you’re not able to tell me now, it’s okay. And it’s okay if you cannot say it ever. And do not place yourself into debt with me. Call us even.”

“You place far too much trust in me,” he whispers, looking away from you. “A stranger you barely know.” He takes a deep breath, eyes glued to his bowl. You can see the weight of his unspoken pain. “I wish to tell you what happened.” His eyes flick up to yours, holding your gaze with a mixture of gratitude and. He speaks of his father, the king, who had become corrupted by power and had posed a threat to the people of Elysium. And how, in an act of pure desperation to protect his people, he had taken the life of his own father.

"The council, the people—they didn't understand," Yeosang confesses, words laced with pain. "They saw me as a traitor, an assassin. I was banished, branded a murderer when all I wanted was to save them. I didn’t know how to deal with that, when I tried to save them all."

You can feel the depth of Yeosang's isolation and loneliness, the weight of the truth hanging heavy in the air. There is no doubt from you. You believe him.

"I was almost killed in the process," Yeosang continues, his eyes reflecting the memory. " And I almost let them do it, thinking that my sacrifice would be enough to prove my innocence, but then I pulled myself out of that. They would just let the royal line die, they wouldn’t dig into the past and see. I am the sole heir to the throne, it died with my banishment. If I died then, no one would care to see why. They would just celebrate my end."

Your expression softens, nodding slowly, "You've been through so much, Yeosang. I can't imagine how difficult it must have been."

"I miss being able to protect my people," Yeosang says, a hint of sorrow in his voice. "But now, all I can do is hope that they'll forgive me someday, that they'll learn the truth about the danger my father posed and the sacrifices I made to try and save them."

"You’ll find a way to clear your name, to unveil the truth. It might take time, but…” This is much to say, much too soon. “If you need me, we can face it together. I can help you in any way you need me to."

Yeosang meets your gaze, a mixture of gratitude and vulnerability in his alien eyes. "I've learned to trust only myself, to keep my guard up against those who might see me as a threat. But being around you... it's different. Easier. You've shown me kindness, understanding. And for the first time, I feel like I can breathe."

Pushing the dwelling feelings inside your own chest, you nudge him slightly. "You’re not alone anymore. I'm here for you, and we'll navigate these fucked up stars together."

“Until the next port?”

You pause. “Right. Until the next port.”

His head tilts. “I just would like to know why you’ve let yourself become entangled with me. Why you have yet to throw me off this ship.”

There’s no explanation you can give that would satisfy his curiosity. In all honesty, you haven’t the slightest clue. If it were pure idiocy that you let him on your ship, let his words convince you. There’s just something that you trust in him. Something that makes you believe everything and anything that he says.

Oh, you are just an idiot.

The first thing you hear is yelling.

It's low because of the incessant engine humming in the background. Cutting through the sound, echoing around the hull of your ship. Your eyes flick open immediately, feet slipping into your boots without much thought. Just as you stand, the cold metal of a knife presses against your throat. You still, thoughts flashing back to your past.

“A woman alone on a ship this large? Have you no concern for your safety?”

Alone? They haven't found Yeosang?

You keep your gaze to the floor, trying to think of a way out of this. You haven't the slightest inkling on how many there are, but there's bound to be more than three. You're severely outnumbered, and you doubt the prince has ever fought anyone like you have. Isolation for over a hundred years – the two of you will either be forced into slavery or killed within the hour. Well, at least you would be. Once they see the bounty on Yeosang's head, they'll take him back. And all of this would have been for nothing.

“Do you speak, woman?”

“My crew left,” you say. “We went our separate ways. They left me the ship as a gift.”

“And what a pretty one it is,” he sneers, forcing you to stand as he digs the knife into your neck. You follow his movements slowly, heart racing as the cold steel of the pirate's knife pressed against her skin. Your mind races, trying to come up with a fast solution to free yourself. Your security system is too far for you to run to, and he would very likely stab your neck before you can yell a command.

“The others are searching this ship,” he begins to explain, forcing you into a seat. Panic fills your body. His knife lifts from your chin, steel digging into your wrists as he ties you into the seat. The knife drags along your arm as you cry out. All of your plans of overpowering him dissipate into nothing. You're only a human, after all. There isn't enough strength in your body to rip apart metal confinement.

The door to the room swings open, and before you could turn to see, an ax hits the middle of the pirate's face, blood splattering against your cheek. You scream, leaning away from the bloodshed. Hands wrap around your constraints and pull harshly, dropping them to the floor. You have no chance to look back before arms surround your body, pulling you close against him. His sweet, calming smell is familiar enough to calm your heart.

“You're safe,” he whispers softly, lips pressed against your hair. “You're safe.” Taking in his own words, his arms drop from your body. You look at him, shocked at what you see. His lips are bloodied, body covered in cuts and slowly forming bruises. Shirt shredded, barely hanging on his firm build. He blinks slowly, eyes steady on yours.

He could have died. He could have died so horribly, and you were stuck in a room with one man. Your trembling arms wrap around Yeosang, holding him as if you could shield him from the wounds that adorn his skin. The smell of blood lingers in the air. Tears welled in your eyes, blurring the sight of the injuries that coat his body. He could have died. And you're not sure how you could have lived with that.

Sobs escape your lips as you press your face into the crook of Yeosang's neck, "I'm so glad you're alive," you whispered, carefully choosing your words.

Yeosang winces at your hold. You almost pull away, until his grip tightens, wrapping your arms around him again. His concern is etched in the lines of his furrowed brow, betraying his actions. "y/n, you're hurt. Your body," he rasps, fingers delicately resting against your arm. "I should have protected you better."

Your grip tightened, as if by sheer force of will, somehow you could mend both the wounds. “Protect me? You're the banished prince, idiot. I'm the one who should be protecting you,” you reprimand ever so gently. "You're the one who faced the brunt of it. I'm just glad you're alive. I only have small cuts here and there compared to you."

Yeosang's eyes, a mix of gratitude and worry, meet yours. "But you've risked everything for me already. I cannot bear to see you hurt."

A soft smile plays on your lips, "Yeosang, I know the risks as much as you do. I can protect myself."

You can see that he wants to argue more, but his expression relaxes, a silent acknowledgment of your words. You let your fingers trace the outskirt of his wounds. He watches you for a brief moment, before speaking. "I'm sorry for worrying you," he murmurs, voice wary.

You shake your head. "Worry about yourself for once.”

Your tears mingle with the stains of blood on Yeosang's torn attire, clinging to him fiercely.

The vibration of the spaceship's engines reverberated through the metal hull, creating a steady rhythm that accompanied your growing sense of unease. Something you’re not able to grasp fully. As a banished prince, Yeosang exchanged his endless roaming in Elysium’s forest for you. And as each day passes, you find yourself stuck, grappling with a strange and undeniable attachment to him. It’s not like you wanted this to happen. In fact, you actively avoided him every chance you got after what happened on the ship. But the silent nights sitting next to one another in the navigation room, the soft smiles shown between the both of you, somewhere in between, things just changed. It was subtle. Soon small smiles were nervous ones on your end.

You cannot avoid the inevitable, that you know.

In the vastness of space, surrounded by the glow of distant stars and the gentle hum of technology, you find yourself sitting in the main room, eyes glued to the television screen. It’s a bit older than newer ships, you never bothered to change it since you rarely watched it. The artificial gravity comfortably keeps you glued to the couch, legs tucked into your chest, blanket over your resting body. Yeosang sits on the opposite end of the couch, not daring to touch you. That’s another story in itself.

Yeosang never really touched you since the brief hijack, nor comfortably since that first time, his lips on your wrist. He actually avoided touching you, slowly taking things from your hand, shrinking himself against a hallway wall. You know it’s for your comfort, but it only makes you yearn for him even more. You never considered yourself a touchy person, not really. Not until now. You wouldn’t be able to tell how many nights you’ve stayed up, thinking about his eyes on yours as his lips covered the skin above your quickened pulse. How he stayed there, longer than needed, before disappearing in the ship. How you wish you can tell him to do it again.

How infuriating.

So as you stare at the screen, you cannot shake the unsettling realization that you are becoming tethered to the person that you sternly told needs to leave when you arrive at the next port. Vulnerability, unfamiliar and raw, creeps over your body, your stomach twisting. How silly that the unknown, uncertainty of the space outside these walls seems vastly incomparable to the fear of losing him.

“You haven’t said a word about the main character.”

You glance at him from your spot, confusion crossing your features. “Hm?”

“Whenever we watch this show, you comment on how annoying the leading man is. How he doesn’t deserve the leading woman. Then, you grumble and groan everytime he says another cheesy line, and sigh when she falls for it. But you haven’t done that at all this whole time. Are you alright?” His pretty eyes rest on yours, brows furrowing.

No, you aren’t okay. You aren’t sure if you’ll ever be okay.

“I’m alright, Yeosang. Thanks for asking.”

“You’ve become easily readable, y/n. I can tell when you’re lying to me. You can say it, you know. Who am I to judge?”

“Just… old times. Things. Stuff, you know.”

He frowns, “That is bigger than the last lie you’ve told me.”

“Yeosang, it’s fine.”

He sighs simply, head turned back to the screen. “Fine, I am not one to push. I just, I don’t know, perhaps I believed that we’ve moved past this hidden information phase. That you somehow trusted me enough to let me know when you’re upset.”

He’s picking at you, it’s clear. You know if you told him straight that you didn’t want to speak of it he’d drop the topic immediately, but you haven’t. It’s very clear to both of you that you want to tell him. But on your side, you’re just afraid to. Yeosang, though not looking at you, waits patiently for your response, unaware of the angst within your heart.

Your fingers nervously play with loose strings of the blanket across your body, trying to find the right words, fear pressing down on your shoulders. He will reject you. Yeosang, despite his status now, is still royalty. He may very much only see you as nothing more than a commoner. Though deep down you know for it to be a lie, your mind wants to convince you that it is true. That he will never stoop down to someone your level.

“I’m fucking terrifed, Yeosang,” you whisper softly.

His mild irritation disappears at your words, body turning fully to look at you. You avoid his gaze as best as you can.

"You’ve… you’ve lived so much of your life as royalty. And here I am, a reject from my former crew, confined in a ship with a prince," your voice is softer now, hesitant. “I’m scared of my feelings for you. And I’m scared that you’ll find me disgusting, gross, and try to leave as quickly as you can."

Yeosang's eyes soften, “y/n–”

“Wait, let me just… let me say this, please.”

He closes his lips, a silent invitation for her to continue.

"And I wondered, what if this feeling is just because you’re nice to me, you know? What if I’m so deprived of kindness that the slightest glimpse of someone remotely caring makes me want you? I never wanted you to pity me, and I don’t want you to say yes when it’s not true for you as it is for me. I like you, I like you so much that I can’t even look at you without feeling it. It aches me,” your eyes burn, tears threatening to fall. “But if you find me as insignificant as I think, please just let me know. Let me know so I can move on.”

Yeosang's expression is unreadable. It scares you even more. He uncrosses his arms, hand resting on the edge of your blanket. "You are not insignificant to me, y/n. You never will be," he smiles. "I just hate that you’ve said all of this before I could confess my feelings myself."

That stuns you for a moment. The way he looks at you is enough to make you look away. He has never made you this nervous before.

“Look at me, please.”

You turn to him.

"y/n," Yeosang begins, his gaze unwavering. "When I first saw you in that hotel, there was something different about you. I couldn't put it into words, but I felt a connection, a sense of trust that I hadn't felt with anyone in a long time."

Your eyes met his in a mixture of surprise and curiosity. You allow him to speak as he allows you.

"Back then, despite it being only weeks ago, I didn't know how to express my gratitude," Yeosang confesses, his fingers absently tracing patterns on the old couch. "You saved me, helped me escape. And in these past few weeks, spending time with you, I've come to see humans for who they truly are. Not just as a means of survival, but as individuals capable of kindness, understanding, and compassion."

A faint smile plays on your lips as you take in his words.

"I didn't realize it at first," Yeosang continues, "These feelings I've been grappling with—whether they were genuine or just a manifestation of attachment because you saved me. But right now, as you sit in front of me, gripping your blanket with such an enormous amount of strength, I just knew."

"Knew what?"

"That this would be it for me," Yeosang admits, "That I'm completely and utterly terrified of saying my next words, but I care for you deeply, and I want you to be mine. I have no reason to worry since you think the same, but I don't want you to have regrets. I don't care if you're not royalty as I was before. I cannot quite understand why you would think I ever cared about such a thing. I never even mention my former status to you unless you bring it up.”

He is right, of course.

“So what do we do now?” You ask after a moment of silence.

He shrugs, leaning further into the couch. “The same as we’ve done before, except now we know we both like each other,” his head tilts, eyes glued back to the television. “Ah, you’re right. He is quite a nuisance.”

And that is how it was.

Days melted into nights aboard the spaceship, neither of you mentioning what happened. The air shifted, no longer burdened by the weight of unspoken words. But still, there is a bit of awkwardness between you. Yeosang, no longer avoiding you or pressing himself against walls to avoid you, entered rooms you occupied and initiated conversations, his presence comforting enough. But other than that, he still avoided your skin. There was only one time he didn’t notice you around, your arm brushing against his to grab something from a cabinet. His skin flushed, body rigged as you lightly nudged him out of the way. After that, he rarely gives you his back, always sending you a smile, or keeping himself aware of where you are in the room.

The physical distance persisted, enough so that you could no longer handle being around him without bringing it up.

One night, as you tend to the plants in your nursery you finally sigh, looking back at him. He wears an old crewmate’s attire, tight against his fit limbs, leaving nothing to the imagination. It’s almost enough for you to forget what you were going to say, until his brow lifts, waiting for you to speak.

"Yeosang," you say, voice breaking the silence. "Is everything okay?"

“Hm?” he tilts his head endearingly, only making this much harder to bring up. You push past the unsettling feelings within you, glancing away from him.

“Do you not like touch?”

“What?” his voice is dripping with shock, almost appallingly so, brows furrowed so harshly they may as well rip his skin. “What makes you think that?”

“It’s hard not to when you avoid touching me every chance you get, Yeosang. I mean, I barely brush your arm and it’s like I’m some sort of disease? I don’t understand.”

“No, y/n, that’s not at all what I am thinking. I…” He rubs his face, moving off the wall, “I am filled with a never ending desire to touch you. It’s my fault that you don’t think so. I presumed that you knew of the mating practices of Elysium without even asking,” he rubs his arms, gaze sliding to the floor. “I don’t know if you noticed while on your brief time there, but on Elysium, all of us wear gloves to avoid touching each other. We only have skin to skin contact with prospective mates.”

You remember how his lips brushes against your wrist, his hand clearly wrapped around yours. How you pushed his hair away from his face, how you held it between yours. You’ve rarely touched him, but you’ve still done it, not knowing what it meant. No wonder he looks perturbed each time you’ve done so.

“I didn’t know. I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“And I should have presumed that you did not,” he murmurs. “Each time, every time you touch me, it’s an indescribable feeling. No one has touched my skin since my mother when she held me as an infant, y/n. You are the first since then,” his eyes land on your hands. “When I kissed your wrist, it was an act of confession. So when you told me a few days ago that you were scared I did not feel the same, I didn’t quite understand since I’ve already touched you. Again, another assumption that I didn’t explain,” he shakes his head. “Apologizes.”

“All we’ve done is assume,” you agree. “You don’t need to apologize.”

“I do, and I’m sorry again. I ... I didn't want to make you uncomfortable since touch as an adult Elysium with another is so much more than innocent. After what I said, though, if you’re uncomfortable, I can give you space."

“No.” You say quickly, an amused smile cast on his lips. “I mean, I don’t mind you touching me, Yeosang. You don’t have to ask. I’m comfortable with you.”

Relief washing over Yeosang's features, "Okay. You can touch me too, y/n.”

You snort, turning back to your plants, “Never thought I’d have a conversation like this.”

“Neither did I.”

The conversation fades into silence, your back to him as you dig out the leaves. You’re focused enough that you don’t hear Yeosang inching closer and closer to you, until a slow hand wraps around your waist. He pulls you into him with ease, breathing in heavily. You can hear your own heart beating against your eardrums, hands gripping the tools tightly. Sure, you expected him to touch you sooner or later.

But you just didn’t expect it to be this soon.

Yeosang’s lips brush against your neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. “Can I touch you now?"

You lean into his body, humming, “Are you not already touching me?”

His free hand slips down, resting on the curve of your thigh. “Not in the way you want me to. Not in the way I desire, So,” his hand stills, “May I touch you?”

“Yes…”

His hand slowly drags against your pants. You watch as he does so, lips brushing against your neck. His lips caress your skin, breathing steadily. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” he says after a moment, causing a laugh to escape your lips. Though he does not move away from your body, you can feel his protruding lips pouting against your neck. You try turning around to look at him but he tightens his hold. “You’re not leaving, are you?” he whispers. “I can learn how to pleasure you.”

“Yeosang,” you try turning again, feeling how he reluctantly lets you go. You lean slightly against the framing of the nursery, stretching out your legs and wrapping them behind him. It pushes his body closer to yours, he himself grabbing the planters on either side of you, steadying his body against the framing. Entrapping you in his embrace. His eyes look nervous as they stare into yours. Without missing a beat, you reach up, cupping his cheek. His lids flutter, eyelashes brushing against his cheek.

“Why would I leave you alone?”

He swallows, gaze heavy as it rests on yours. “It is not an unfamiliar feeling.”

You lean forward, pressing a light kiss against the corner of his lips. He trembles. “I am not leaving you, Yeosang. I won’t leave you. As long as you want me around, I’ll be here. I won’t abandon you.”

His tongue drags against his lips, “You are sure of that? As long as you can be? I… You won’t leave me?”

“No,” your voice is firm. “I’m not leaving you. And I’ll teach you how to please me, pretty boy–”

An echo of metal cracking behind you stops you from continuing. You glance to the side, seeing his fingers digging deeply into the planters. Eyes widened, you turn back to him. His eyes are glazed over, glued on your every movement. Flicking down to your lips, he leans forward. You meet him halfway, hand resting on the back of his neck. Your tongue drags across his plush bottom lips, pulling him closer. A light gasp escapes his lips, and you take that chance to enter his mouth. He tastes sweet, as sweet as that smile of his. It’s something you very much can get used to.

You hear the planters crack again, his hands resting on either side of your hips, desperately clawing at the fabric. How delicate he holds you compared to the damage behind. He learns without you telling him how to kiss, clumsy a bit at first before calming himself down. Your hand slips down, following the curve of his broad shoulders, hesitating slightly as you touch the solid muscle of his arms. If there were any way you could be more enthralled with his very being you would have surpassed it long ago. You pull away to catch a breath, his head leaning against your shoulder, chest rising and falling quickly.

“Fuck me,” he murmurs, a strange set of words to come out of his usually proper speech. “We have done not a thing, but I am already too excited,” he lifts his head, thumb rubbing circles into your side. “How do humans fornicate? Is it like us?”

“Depends, what do you do?” Though he asked first, you cannot help but wonder about his answer. He pauses for a moment.

“From what I’ve learned, it is usually snowing outside. That is our peak fertility time. We strip bare, and fuck in the snow.”

“Yeosang!” You gasp, unable to hold in your laughter at his confused gaze. “You’re a riot.”

He continues on, as if you didn’t say a word, “We enter the mating partner through their anus and ejaculate after so much time. Depending on the Elysium, of course.”

“We are not having anal sex. Not now at least,” you say simply. “Humans, well, it depends on the genitalia of their partner. I’m assuming you have a dick?”

He tilts his head, thinking. “Yes.”

“Well, then…” After a brief history on what actually happens (brief as in, a forty minute lecture), Yeosang’s fingers are inside of you, moving quickly curving slightly. You moan against his ministrations, gripping the sheets beneath you, eyes flicking down to how easily he learned. His gaze never leaves yours, lips slightly parted as he watches you come undone.

“You’re so pretty, my pretty queen,” he whispers, a small smile gracing his lips as he feels you clench around his fingers. “So so pretty for me, my queen.”

“Yeosang, wait–” you grip his wrists, and he increases his pace. You’ve set boundaries earlier, your safe word being snow. “I’m going to cum if you continue.”

“Then cum for me, pretty. I want to feel you tight around my fingers,” he curls them slightly again, thumb rubbing against your clit. With warning, you moan, falling over the edge. He continues to move inside you, though much slower than before. Once you’re down from your high, he pulls out.

His free hand grips his pants, ripping them with eagerness. His hand wraps around himself, stroking his –

Two cocks rest between his soiled hands, his strokes slow and calculated. Your brain tries to wrap around where exactly in the conversation you had prior, when he told you exactly how many he has. He looks at your shocked expression, worry decorating his. “Darling?”

“You have two, Yeosang. I asked you if you had a dick and you said yes!”

“I do have one, y/n,” his expression still puzzled. “Humans do not also have two?” He swallows slowly, strokes slowing down. “Is this too much for you?”

“Ah, no,” you disagree immediately. “Just surprising.”

“I can only enter you with one, as to not hurt you,” he says quickly. “It’s what you prefer, of course. We can stop now.”

You think it through. Having one inside you is a job in itself, but two? They’re both pretty average and similar to a human’s, though a bit more prominent – skin softer-looking, and covered with shimmer, just as his skin is. You don’t want to end this, and clearly, neither does he. So with confidence, your eyes meet his nervous ones.

“We can try it.”

“…Both?” There’s a bit of hope in his voice.

Who are you to crush it?

“Both.”

note: no part two ;-;

#fic: winter blossom #yeosang x reader #kang yeosang x reader #ateez fics #ateez fanfiction #ateez smut #ateez fluff #ateez angst #and its snowing collab

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 7 months

Text

The Farmer's Daughter 9

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Walter Marshall

Summary: You notice a peculiar change in a family friend. (short!reader, sorry size kink is out)

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

After the tense morning, you don't speak to Walter again that day. Or the next. When he arrives, he stays outside with his thermos of coffee and waits for Timothy. At the end of the day, he gives your brother an excuse about chores at home. Maybe not an excuse. He has been spending a lot of time around here.

Nearly a week after it happened, after everything changed, your mother appears in the kitchen with a crease in her forehead. You offer her a cup off coffee as she rubs her eyes. She yawns and and shakes her head.

“We'll grab a cup at the hospital,” she says, “you're father has a check-up. Timmy's taking us.”

“Oh?” You pour yourself a mug and lean on the counter, “I forgot.”

“Lots going on,” she sighs, “can't blame you for being distracted.”

“Uh, yeah, I guess,” you shrug.

“I called Walter, left a message,” she checks the clock hung above the door, “wouldn't be too bad if he did swing by, huh?”

“Hopefully he doesn't waste the time,” you grumble.

“Honey,” she chides playfully, “you know, I think your dad would approve… if he could. He always liked Walter.”

“Mom,” you frown, “please, I have enough to worry about.”

“Oh, I'm sorry,” she whines, “I'm just… looking for a little sunshine through the clouds.”

You wince, a pang of guilt between your ribs, “I'm sorry, mom, I just… Walter's nice. He helps so much and I think… I think maybe it's too much.”

“Don't I know it. He is so generous. I gave him some money and I found the envelope in my purse,” she tuts, “you could do much worse. He… he could take care of you.”

You exhale, “mom.”

“Just listen,” her tone turns dire and her eyes gleam, “your pa can't. He's not gonna be able to ever again. I already know what the doc's gonna day and you shouldn't fool yourself. Walter won't help forever, not for no good reason. And next year, your pa won't be back on his tractor…” she sniffles and dabs her nose, “those days are behind us.”

“Ma, you don't know–”

“I do,” she utters solemnly, “I see the man I married but he's hollow. He's… a shell, honey. He's there but he's not really.”

“Oh, ma–”

“I'm just saying… we need to weigh our options. I'll look into selling if we gotta and Timmy, maybe he can go work with Walt–”

“Aren't you getting ahead of yourself?” You cross an arm around your middle.

“We shoulda been talking about this a week ago,” she shakes her head.

“Well, I can apply at the grocer or–”

“You do that,” she says, “but you think real hard. You got options,” she steps closer and cups your cheeks, “you're a pretty young thing. That doesn't last forever.”

You don't say a word as her greyness seeps into you. She draws away and you bow your head. You wait for her to go as you stare into the black depths of the coffee. You take a sip to try to chase away the ice in your veins but it only sends a shiver through you.

🌾

Your parents go off with Timmy in the truck. You set to sweeping the porch to keep yourself busy. Your mother's words ring in your ears. She can't be serious, there's more out there than the farm. Pa always said as much and you don't think he meant Walter.

As you get to the steps, the distant rumble of an engine rolls over the ground. You turn as gravel grits under treads and Walter's large truck lazily rocks along the bumpy road. You still the straw broom and grip the handle as he pulls up. Did he not get your mother's message?

He lingers in the truck as you squint against the sunlight. His door pops open and he jumps down, sending up a cloud of dust. He goes around the bed of the truck and opens the back.

He slides out a sheet of wood and drags it towards you. You watch in confusion as he stops and leans it against the side of the porch. His eyes meet yours and his brows furrow.

“Morning,” he checks his watch, “barely.”

“Morning, Mr. Marshall,” you eke out.”

His eyes flash and he nods. He turns and marches back to the truck, pulling out several planks before carrying them over. You watch him as you lean on the broom.

“What are you doing?” You ask.

He stops and looks up at you. He points to your feet and flicks his finger up, “building a ramp. For your dad.”

You look down at your slips flecked in dirt and stray strands of straw, “oh? Didn't ma call–”

“She didn't ask,” he says bluntly.

Your lips slant and you tilt your head, “that's real nice.”

“Yeah well, I'm a nice guy,” he huffs and spins on the heel of his boots, stomping away once more.

He goes back to the truck and retrieves his toolbox. His agitation roils off his tense shoulders and the stone set in his jaw. You're too afraid to ask but you do need to. He has been avoiding you.

“Well, I'll stay out of your way,” you lift the broom and back up the stairs. “If you need anything–”

“Not in the way,” he says curtly as he takes out a measuring tape.

“Oh, I know but I wouldn't wanna bother–”

“I don't mind,” he shrugs as he steps onto the stairs and measures the angle over them.

“Right, of course, do you need anything? A glass of water or–”

“Seems like I'm the one bothering,” he stands and lets the tape retract harshly.

“No?” You bat your lashes at him, “I didn't say that, Mr.--”

“Walt,” he growls, “you know what I like best in a woman. Honesty. So why don't you be honest and tell me what you really feel?”

“I…” you gulp, “Walter, er, Walt, I… I'm just… confused.”

“Don't act like a child. We both know you're not,” he crosses his arms over his broad chest. You've seen him angry before but it's never been aimed at you.

“I… I don't know what to say. I'm sorry.”

“Sorry. Okay,” he shakes his head and unfolds his arms, going back to measuring, “I'm open to talking when you wanna be an adult.”

You flinch as you watch him. He grits his teeth, ignoring your presence as he focuses on his work. You turn, hiding the hurt deep in your chest. You never meant to hurt him but you really don't know. As much as you try to wade through your feelings, you only feel as if you're drowning in them.

#walter marshall #dark walter marshall #dark!walter marshall #walter marshall x reader #drabble #night hunter #the farmer's daughter #series #au #backwoods au

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eloquentlytired · 4 days

Text

18+mdni

pairing: walter marshall x fem reader

drabble

tags: fingering — overprotective and controlling walter — kinda dark — dirty talk — teasing of pregnancy & breeding — bite mark — brief mention of bleeding wound

summary: walter’s controlling protection suffocates you. one day you try to fight it off but he shows you exactly why you shouldn't.

author’s note: I'm just horny for this man I have no excuse

ৎৎৎ

“say it out loud. admit what you did wrong.” walter orders in a gruff voice as you watch his hand disappear underneath your panties from the mirror situated before you. you jump a little when his knuckles brush against your bare pussy and recite your words again. he remains behind you, bending forward slightly.

“I turned off my location so you wouldn't find me.”

you're sitting on a chair that walter has personally placed before the body length mirror of your shared bedroom. on purpose of course. he wants you to watch as he does this; as he asserts back his dominance and reminds you of your exact place which is always near him. he wasn't always so protective but he'd gotten worse because of his job and you couldn't exactly blame him when he'd told you about the traumatic cases and the doctor visits — which by the way never helped. at first sharing your location was fine until you began receiving texts and calls that disturbed your privacy, such as ‘don't park there it's dangerous’ or ‘why are you in that place? you told me you'd visit the other one’ or even ‘that restaurant is too intimate for colleague dinners.’ to sum up walter’s way of caring had transformed into something controlling almost but breaking up with him wasn't an option either; not when you loved him so much.

you shift slightly on the chair until only your buttocks are brushing against the wood. your eyes observe the way walter’s thick fingers move beneath your underwear, through the mirror, and when he deems it impossible for his large hand to move like this he rips them off you. “remind me of the reason we keep your location on, sweetheart?” there is no sarcasm in his voice but there is much threat and promise of what he'll do to punish you. your legs spread willingly as a pair of thick fingers brushes against your pussy again, walter’s middle and ring finger sliding from your entrance up to your clit and creating a repetitive motion that has your legs shaking. “to keep me safe and sound.” you reply with a whine as walter nudges your swollen clit with his thumb. you moan. “good girl. it's to keep you safe so naturally when you turn it off, I can't fucking do that. can I?” he yells at you — he's never been angrier — but you're so stupid and shameless. and disrespectful.

you can feel an entirely new wave of wetness gush out of you as walter yells. your pussy clenches around nothing and he feels the shake of your cunt against his stained fingers. you want to cum like this, just by having walter yell at you and slightly tap your pussy. but then walter is doing more for you, sliding his fingers over your entrance and circling it slowly with his middle finger. “so ungrateful, so cold to me. after everything I do to keep you alive.” you want to deny everything, to fight back, but walter is sliding a finger past your hole and it suddenly doesn't really matter. the slide is easy and you're drenched, confirming your desire for him. walter hums to himself as he begins pumping his finger inside you and the slide of his second finger is just as easy — it has surely helped that he was teasing you for minutes before actually touching you like this. your pussy is wet and there's precum staining your inner thighs which are close to your heat. “walter—”

you moan again when he curls his fingers upwards and follows a fast pace. your legs shake and spread wider. your hands hug the arm that's using you, the one whose fingers are absolutely abusing your gummy walls. his warm palm keeps brushing against your clit as he fucks you with his hand, his fingers reaching deep inside you. “what will you have me do next, sweetheart? impregnate you so you can stay at one place like a good girl?” his words aren't helping with your arousal and walter knows you love this from the way your pussy is clamping down on his fingers, not letting go. he goes faster and the way he pumps his thick fingers inside that sensitive pussy of yours is too good, too much.

his mouth latches onto your throat from behind as he keeps grinding his palm against your clit. “is this what I have to do? lock you up and breed you until you're swollen with my kids? hm?” his teasing words make you whimper and as much as you want to play it difficult and shake your head, you don't. your head falls back on his chest and walter sinks his teeth into your shoulder, biting too hard that your skin becomes tainted with red colour. the pain assists your orgasm as you reach your peak, walter’s fingers fucking into you as you let out a shuddering scream of his name. he's right there, not bothering to wipe the blood off your shoulder when his bite mark looks so good. when he doesn't stop teasing your sensitive pussy, you whine and your hands try to push his arm away instead of hugging it like before.

walter doesn't listen but he throws you over his shoulder, his fingers somehow still stuffing your warm cunt. he wordlessly throws you on your shared bed and the words die in your throat when he looms over you imposingly, his hand reaching for his belt. “will you do that again, sweetheart?” he asks and you're immediately shaking your head, your back arching off the bedsheets because of the tone he's using on you. walter seems happy with your reply but not fully convinced. “w-walter?” your fear is like a bonus pleasure for him and he finds himself rushing to unclasp the leather around his pants. “I never said we were done.” walter growls and the way those blue eyes stared down at you prepare you for one thing alone; to receive a proper punishment.

#henry cavill #walter marshall #walter marshall x reader #night hunter #henry cavill smut #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x you #walter marshall smut

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toulousewayne · 2 months

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Trinity Head canon

Clark is the tallest at 6’3, Bruce is not far behind at 6’2 and Diana is 6’1.5.

Clark has a southern drawl. He’s been in the city for years, but sometimes it comes out when he’s angry or certain words will bring it out. Diana and Lois find it adorable.

Speaking of which Bruce has a thick Jersey accent but does have some British vocabulary that he uses like lift or tap instead of elevator or faucet.

Diana can speak the most languages, with Bruce behind her. She secretly taught him many forgotten languages, he enjoyed this time they spent. It was mostly when the first met.

When the two come to the manor they each have a favorite tea that Alfred or really Bruce will make. Clark likes Chamomile tea and Diana likes Oolong. Bruce himself prefers green tea.

The amount of last minute saves Clark and Diana have had to do to get Bruce out of harms way is crazy. They have a tally system that Barbara keeps track of. Clark is ahead by five points.

Bruce has planned out his affairs in case he dies. Again. Damian would go into Clark and Lois’ care he figures Jon would help him a lot during this time. When he was younger if something happened to him or Alfred Dick was also supposed to go to Clark. And had Jason lived during his younger years he was originally going to Clark but he changed it to Diana a few weeks before he passed away.

Diana drops by every Sunday to feed and play with the animals. Damian has grown fond of his aunt Diana’s visits.

Aside from Bruce, Alfred and Barbara Clark is the only other person who knows how feral and intense Dick’s run as Robin was.

Diana is usually the one to lead the league or a mission. Bruce has always felt she was better at leading the charge, though she thinks the opposite and just feels she’s doing what’s needed in the moment.

We have established that Bruce is a terrible cook. Diana is far worse as when she first invited the two over to her apartment she was making a casserole she kept hearing about. Clark had to put out the fire and Bruce payed off the fire marshal. Clark can cook four dishes; Beef stew, a traditional country breakfast, apple pie and Chili. He’s trying to expend his recipes but the other two enjoy the options.

The trio get together twice a month for a night on the town. They’ve only had three successful nights out where they didn’t need to save the city.

Once a year Diana and Clark force Bruce to take a week long vacation. The Batkids watch over Gotham, and Kara watches Metropolis.

They usually go to an island off the coast of Greece that Diana discovered. She has to mother Bruce about sunscreen because he burns like paper.

Clark enjoys surfing and snorkeling. Bruce will broad for the first two days then he’ll loosen up.

Diana and Clark each have a favorite thing about the Batcave. Clark loves the giant penny and Diana is always found staring at the T-Rex.

Speaking of which, Diana is banned from driving the Batmobile nether Bruce or Diana will explain why, but Clark is chuckling about the situation.

Clark had filled in for Bruce five times. Three times as Batman and twice as Bruce Wayne using his voice.

Tim and Damian are the only Robins to work with Clark as Batman and they both enjoyed having rogues confused as to why their usual tricks didn’t affect Batman.

Clark sometimes had doubts about being a beacon of Hope when they first formed the League. It was Batman they gave him a word of advice, though Bruce still denies it till this day.

Diana once caught Bruce with her lasso, she questioned him about why he was so interested in it, he never told her why but she thinks it’s because it’s the only thing that has forced the truth out of him.

Clark can drive a stick shift, Diana can’t parallel park.

Diana is actually a good mechanic, she’s worked on a few of the aircraft at the Watchtower.

Each of the Trinity has a favorite duo to team up with. Clark likes to work with Martian Manhunter and Atom, Diana likes to work with Vixen and Black Canary, and Bruce once again won’t attempt it but he likes to work with Green Lantern (Hal) and the Flash (Barry).

Bruce doesn’t have perfect vision as he leads people to believe. He had glass since he was ten, and has had LASIK three times.

Diana will sometimes braid the Batkids hair. She loves Duke and Tim’s hair the most. She sometimes will scold Dick about his longer hair because she knows he’ll never tend to it properly.

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the-magpie-collective · 4 months

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I don't really think Wyll qualifies as a member of the nobility.

(For clarity, I will be using nobles/nobility, gentry, and patriars interchangeably. The term patriar is Baldur's Gate specific.)

Wyll isn't a patriar. His father is the son of a blacksmith. We don't really get a clear explanation of what it takes to be considered nobility in Baldur's Gate (if you have a source that details this please please share) but we do know what it takes to be considered nobility historically.

First, what is required for one to be considered a noble? Generally speaking nobles are usually landed or titled or both. These are pretty straightforward terms. Landed means that a person owns land. Historically, owning land was not as easy as it is today. It also wasn't very clear cut. Depending on the location owning land could be a super huge deal. Not only did it require lots of money, but it also often required extensive connections. In some places if you weren't the reigning Monarch it was illegal to make any kind claim to land. (chop your head off kinds of illegal).

Is it possible Wyll's father owned land even while Wyll was growing up? I think it's extremely unlikely. While Ulder Ravengard did rise through the ranks of the Fist quickly and was therefore a respected member of the upper brass, he probably wasn't rich enough to buy land within Baldur's Gate and he is described as “lacking sophistication and tact” when it comes to matters of politics. Would he have managed to create the connections necessary to even be allowed to buy land? Doubtful.

The other option is being titled. Simple enough, it means someone possesses a noble title. Most titles are inheritable, but 'Duke' is not an inheritable title in Baldur's Gate. Dukes are elected by the Parliament of Peers.

A quick aside to explain how the government works in Baldur's Gate. Baldur's Gate is controlled by the Council of Four: four elected Dukes whose votes are what allow policy to pass into law. The Grand Duke is able to decide in the case of a tie-breaker being necessary. The Dukes are elected by the Parliament of Peers, those seats are held by patriars. There is one sort of exception. One of the positions of Duke is traditionally held by the head of the Flaming Fist, i.e. the Marshall. The Marshall of the Flaming Fist still has to be elected to Duke, they don't just get that position automatically, but most people don't like to go against tradition. (Though I've seen some sources point at Ulder Ravengard's not being immediately elected Duke? And it was tied to him not being a patriar/well liked? I haven't been able to find which DnD source book this comes from yet grrrr so I can't confirm)

So Wyll's father is likely elected Duke after Abdel Adrian's assassination (see previous post) on Returning Day in 1482 DR. Baldur's Gate takes place in 1492 DR, when Wyll is 24. So yeah, some quick math and Wyll wasn't the son of a Duke until he was around 14. He's banished at the age of 17. A grand total of three years where he has some political standing.

But Wyll was the son of a military man his entire life. A man who was known for being extremely strict. A man who often had to travel for his work. A man who, in spite of his best efforts, was distant from his son. Yeah.

Wyll's not a noble. Wyll is a military brat.

#I have more in depth researched posts in the works #but here have a quick thought #I like to think about the potential dichotomy of Wyll not really fitting in either world whether noble or commoner #could explain why no one really recognizes him #(just kidding we all know that's actually because of poor writing)#bg3 #bg3 discourse #wyll ravengard #ulder ravengard #magpiediscourse

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theidiotwhowritesthings · 2 years

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A Fresh Start [4]

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Warnings: use of fake name, reader’s on the run, grogu is a menace

Word Count: 3,160

Summary: When you made plans for your future they never involved being hired by a Mandalorian to baby-sit his adorable, green gremlin of a child. However, after your life fell apart in the span of one disastrous night, you found it to be the only feasible option you had left. Nevarro was a far cry from Coruscant, but the thriving community turned out to be exactly what you needed. Every day you spend in Nevarro you fall more and more in love with your new life, but when your past rears its ugly head you find that perhaps peace wasn’t meant for everyone.

Ch. #04: MAYFELD DIDN’T MEAN TO STEP ON HIM

Chapter Summary: As acting Deputy for the day, you keep the city safe by watching the Marshal crawl out of a hole in the wall.

“Taking time to do nothing often brings everything into perspective.” ⏤Doe Zantamata

This was the first time you had ever walked the city streets with Mando, you realized. Up until now, you’d explore the sights of Nevarro with Grogu or Nima, and it’d be during his work hours. Nobody seemed caught off guard by the silver beskar warrior, which made sense considering this was his city, but it was still odd that all the attention drifting your way was to greet the man beside you eagerly. Mando always returned the greetings with a simple nod of his head. Walking beside him, you felt weirdly safe. Not that you didn’t feel safe walking these streets alone, but being side by side with a Mandalorian brought a sense of confidence. You doubted there was a soul in the universe who would willingly start a fight up with the man beside you.

Both of you walked a step behind Grogu’s pram. He was mumbling to himself while playing with the stuffed, blue frog. Around all of you, the street was decorated with bright flowers and banners. Each side was lined with various stalls selling every kind of item you could think of and from the looks of it the stalls went all the way up the street to the plaza in front of the Magistrate building.

“Does this happen every weekend?” You asked.

“Not every weekend. Just once a month. Karga is trying to increase that though.”

You continued to gaze around, waving at the vendors who waved at you, “Where I lived in the city, we had a marketplace this size that stuck around all the time, but it wasn’t as fun as this. In fact, I’d describe it less as cute and cheery, and more dangerous and shady.” You glanced toward Mando. “I’m pretty sure someone got mugged there daily.”

“Did you live there alone?” Mando asked.

“Mhmm. I have some family in Naboo still, but I lived alone on Coruscant. Tatooine too.”

“Mos Espa, right?” You nodded in response. Mando continued. “That’s quite the change. What took you to Tatooine in the first place?”

One of the last patients you treated had told you about Tatooine. He said Mos Espa was a desert hell scape that lowlifes and runaways called home because they belonged to no other world in the universe. Needless to say, he hadn’t been a fan and he had a scud experience there. It hadn’t been a revolutionary conversation, but for some reason it stuck in your brain. So, when your life spiraled out of control, and you decided to make a run for it, that was where you went.

You were a lowlife and a runaway, and you didn’t belong anywhere anymore.

“A friend told me it was a fun place to live.” You shrugged.

Mando shook his head, “I’m not sure that person should be called a friend if they sent you to that corner of the universe.”

“Bright eyes!” The sudden new voice startled you. Grogu dropped his stuffed toy at the sound and immediately lifted his arms. Seconds later, an older woman with bushy, curly hair stormed up with an ankle tall, one eyed droid stumbling around her ankles. Her face was decorated with a wide grin as she spoke directly to the child. “Oh, how I’ve missed you!” She scooped him up. “Your father has been keeping you from me.”

“You were literally the one who suggested I hire someone to watch him.” Mando sighed.

“Don’t you start with those excuses, tin man.” She snapped.

Mando motioned to the woman. “This is Peli. Peli, this is Soran.”

“Oh!” Your eyes widened, recognizing the name, “It’s nice to meet you. Nima has told me so much about you. She idolizes you.”

Peli bounced Grogu on her hip. “She’s a good kid. Just don’t tell her I told you that.” It seemed like Nima hadn’t exaggerated in any of the stories she told you. “Now, I’m taking the kid.” Peli lightly kicked the droid. “Get the pram!”

Without another word, you watched as the woman walked away with Grogu and her droid dragged the pram beside her. You turned your head to look up at Mando who was shaking his head. “Um, I think your child was just kidnapped.”

“Fighting Peli isn’t worth the energy.”

Music wafted through the air, mingling with the smell of food and sweets, and the crowd drifted around the both of you. Mando and you were just standing in the middle of the street now⏤ childless. Before, you at least had Grogu with you, but now you were alone with him. No adorable babbling to break up the awkward silences. Mando suddenly began to walk once more, and your eyes momentarily widened before keeping up with him.

“Can I ask you something probably considered personal?” You blurted. Mando glanced at you briefly before nodding. “Did you really used to be a bounty hunter?” His steps faltered and he did a double take toward you. Nervously, you held your hands up in surrender. “Sorry.”

“No, no. I’m not upset.” Mando replied. “I just… It caught me off guard. I thought everyone already knew that.”

“Oh,” You grinned, “Well, Nima did tell me you were, but Nima tells me a lot of things. Only 60% ends up being true.” Mando let out a soft chuckle and nod. “So, that’s a yes then?”

“Yes, I was.”

“Why’d you stop?”

“This job, I suppose.” Mando shrugged. The two of you paused so a set of people could carry armfuls of boxes across the path. “I was still taking bounties with Grogu at one time, to afford fuel and supplies, but I haven’t picked up a bounty since settling here.”

You nodded. The moment the path cleared you both began walking again. A woman held out an arm draped in thick scarves she was selling, and you politely shook your head and stepped past her. You cleared your throat. “I have another personal question⏤”

“You can ask anything you want, cyar’ika.” Mando interrupted you. You didn’t recognize the word at the end of his sentence. Though the accent made you believe it to be Mando’a. The tone he held conveyed a friendly air that settled any remaining nerves you had at the moment. Your lips curled up in a broad smile at him. Mando stiffly rolled his shoulders with a muted cough. “Go on.”

“How did you and Grogu meet?” You asked. “I know you adopted him, obviously, but was it at birth or…”

Mando tilted his head with a light huff. “He was a quarry actually. I was hired to pick him up and deliver him to a man here in Nevarro.” His words made you wonder what meeting that version of Mando would be like. “While bringing him here, he saved my life.”

“Aw, so you never turned him in?”

“No, I did.”

“Oh.” You blurted in surprise. “Huh.”

Mando paused at the edge of the street and you did the same. You had reached the mouth of the plaza where a band stood off to the side playing music as the townspeople shopped at the vendors perched around the circular space.

“But I did come back for him.” Mando finished. “I should’ve never left him in the first place. It was a mistake.”

“It sounds like you more than redeemed yourself.” You replied. He turned his head to stare at you, and this time you stared back in hopes that you could gauge something through the black glass of his visor. He was better at holding your gaze though because it only took seconds before you had to glance away. “It’s just obvious Grogu loves you like crazy, and he’s a great kid which is a testament to the guy raising him.”

“Thank you.” Mando hummed. The two of you stood side by side in silence, but this one wasn't awkward. It was comfortable, and you could just enjoy the bubble of laughter, music, and chatter that surrounded you. Mando motioned across the plaza and you followed his hand to where a dark skinned man in elegant red and gold robes stood speaking to a few others. “Have you met Karga yet?”

“High Magistrate Karga? The guy, you know, running Nevarro?” You shook your head with a disbelieving laugh. “No. He always seemed a bit busy for me to suddenly stop and introduce myself.”

“Come on.” Mando chuckled. He set his hand on your upper back and led you closer to the large, busy building. If eyes hadn’t been on you before when you were walking side by side with the Mandalorian, they certainly were now as you grew closer and closer to the High Magistrate. When you were a few feet away, Karga’s eyes glanced over and his face brightened. He stepped away from the people he was speaking to so he could meet you halfway. “Karga.”

“Mando!” He greeted, holding out an arm. Mando pulled his hand away from your back to return the greeting. Karga’s eyes drifted to you with a smile. “And who is this beautiful, young woman?”

“Hi, I’m Soran. It’s very nice to meet you, sir.” You replied.

“Please, no need for the formalities.” Karga laughed. “Any friend of Mando’s is a friend of mine. I believe I’ve seen you around some. You’re no traveler here, correct?”

You shook your head. “No. I moved in with Mando.” Karga’s eyes momentarily widened and you held a hand out to clarify. “As his nanny⏤ Grogu’s nanny. I’m Grogu’s nanny.”

“Ah!” Karga laughed. “I understand now. You’re Nima’s cousin then? Sorry for the confusion, I was expecting someone a little less human.” He glanced around. “Where is the little guy though?”

“Peli beat you to him.” Mando replied. He pressed a few buttons on his gauntlet.

“Damn.” Karga shook his head with a mumbled curse. His hands drifted to his waist and his attention swiveled to focus solely on the Mandalorian beside you. “I’m actually glad I ran into you. We have a problem. The Anzellans who run the droid repair shop two streets over have some complaints.”

Mando crossed his arms. “Today’s my day off. Mayfeld is running point.”

“Mayfeld doesn’t quite have your…charm.” Karga replied. “Besides, the Anzellans hate him after what happened last time.”

“It was an accident. Mayfeld didn’t mean to step on him.”

“Yes, well they’re not quite ready to let bygones be bygones.”

“Too bad. He’s the Deputy on shift. They either file their complaint with him or wait until tomorrow.” Mando said simply. You wondered if that meant Cara was off today too. On weekends did just one of them work?

Peli’s voice shouting from behind you made you glance over your shoulder to see the woman rushing over with Grogu’s pram beside her. Briefly, you worried something was going on with the kid, but he seemed as chipper as ever as he nibbled on a stick of meat. Peli must have bought it for him.

“There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you!”

“I messaged you where we are.” Mando motioned to his gauntlet.

“Whatever.” Peli waved his words off. “Here’s your boy back. I gotta get to the landing pad. One of the merchants’ ships went AWOL.” Grogu lifted his half finished snack and you cooed at him in response. Peli begun to rush away once more, no further information given, but paused to glare over her shoulder at the droid that lingered by the pram. “Come on, you idiot!”

The droid jumped in alarm before sprinting after her. You chuckled in amusement before reaching down to scoop up Grogu who had lifted one hand in request. Once settled in your arms, he held the stick of roasted meat up to your mouth to share. You took a small bite from the opposite end then thanked him profusely to which he squealed in delight.

“Plus, now Mayfeld will be busy with whatever the kriff is going on at the landing pad.” Karga raised an eyebrow.

Mando hesitated and his gaze drifted over to you which caught you off guard. You bounced Grogu lightly in your arms, making him giggle, then gave Mando a reassuring smile. “If you really need to go I can keep an eye on Grogu. We’ll explore the market some more.”

He held your gaze a second more before turning to Karga. “What’s the nature of the complaint?”

“Non-violent.” The Magistrate shrugged. “They think someone’s been breaking in and stealing their things. Some items have been going missing. Very much a tomorrow problem, but they’re insistent that it be solved today.” Karga held a hand over his chest. “As an old friend, I would love for you to help me keep the best droid repair mechanics in the Outer Rim happy.”

“Fine.” Mando sighed. “We’ll go see them.”

“Yes! Thank you, Mando!”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise, “We?”

Mando had one hand resting on his belt as he tilted his head toward you. There was something about his posture that screamed ‘sheepish’ to you. “If you don’t mind tagging along. I did want to show you around the market eventually, but I know this is a lousy day off for you.”

You let out a small laugh, “It’d be my honor to tag along, Marshal.” The sheepish energy you initially got from him disappeared as he gave you a slight nod. You both threw back quick good-byes to the Magistrate, and you added that it had been nice to meet him before following Mando down a different street. “Me tagging along. Does this mean I’m a Deputy today? Because if so, I’d like a badge.”

“I’ll work on that for you.” Mando chuckled.

On the list of things you thought you’d get to witness today, you didn’t think seeing Mando’s large frame crawl into a Anzellan garage would be one. He may have thought this was turning out to be a lousy day off, but you were truly entertained watching him sit curled up, seated with his legs crossed, while arguing with the head droid repair tech of the garage. When you all arrived to the garage, the Anzellans had insisted that the Marshal step into their office to discuss the matters at hand. Their office being a tiny crawl space that fit multiple working Anzellans with ease.

You had been invited in as well, but it was much more fun to watch from the entrance of the garage where you knelt with Grogu.

“I don’t understand.” Mando let out an irritable sigh. “Do you speak Huttese?”

“Ransack. Ransack!” The Anzallen standing across from him groaned in a squeaky voice. He continued on in his own language before belting the word out once more. “Ransack!”

“Who? Who do you think is ransacking your garage?” Mando pressed.

You bit down on your lips to keep back a chuckle. You glanced down to share the amusement with Grogu only to realize the little green guy had wandered off. Eyes blown with panic, the sound of his nearby cooing reassured you quickly. Grogu had stepped away from you to wander into the garage toward the pack of Anzallens. “Oh no.” You hissed quietly and reached out to him. “Grogu. Come here. Your buir is working.”

Grogu ignored you with the complacency only a toddler could have and crawled onto the table. He was only there for half a second before he wrapped his arms around the Anzellen who had been struggling to communicate with his father.

“No, Grogu.” You blurted as the Anzellan hollered.

The child cuddled to the man who was about the size of his stuffed frog. At least he wasn’t trying to eat him, you supposed. “No, no, no, no, no!” The Anzellen bellowed. “No squeezie, not squeeze! Not squeeze!”

“Grogu. K’olar!” Mando reached out to the kid. “Sorry, he’s young.”

“Bad baby!” The Anzellan replied. You crawled into the space to grab him, but he took a step out of your reach. Mando held his arm out to keep Grogu from waddling away any farther and herded him into your direction. When he was close enough, you scooped up the green, giggling gremlin and tried to detangle his arms from around the Anzellan. When the droid repair tech broke free he hurried away, still repeating the same phrases. “Oh, bad baby.”

You had kept most of your laughter in control, but when your gaze met Mando to see him already staring at you the dam broke and a laugh slipped from your lips. Quickly, you crawled out of the garage before you could really lose control and once out you stood to let all your amusement out. Grogu joined in happily, and you bounced him in your arms.

“No wonder your buir calls you a womp rat.” You laughed.

A minute later you watched the Marshal, esteemed Mandalorian, decorated in rare beskar sacred to his people and sought after over the universe, crawl out of the garage. You were leaning against the wall with his son in your arms, and the moment he was able to rise fully to his feet another laugh spluttered from your lips. Mando set his hands on his hips as he stared at you, and you shook your head. “I’m sorry, but between watching your son cuddle a droid tech and you crawl out of a hole, I didn’t stand a chance at keeping a straight face.”

“Uh huh.” Mando stepped closer and held his arms out for Grogu. “I hate to break the news to you, but you’re fired as my Deputy.”

“Drat.” You snapped your fingers with a wide grin.

Mando turned his attention to his son, “And you. What have we discussed about cuddling people against their will, ad’ika?” Grogu made a humming noise that suspiciously sounded like ‘I don’t know’. Then he held his hands up to his father’s helmet with his face drawn in innocence. “Uh huh. Nuh’la.”

“Did you save the day, Marshal?” You asked.

Mando looked back up to you. “I did. No thanks to my two deputies.” You laughed. Mando kept Grogu in his arms as the two of you walked back toward the market. The pram followed behind you. “I promised them we’d add their garage to our evening route when we’re walking the city.”

“Mmm.” You held your hands behind your back and shot him a grin. “It’s nice to see Nevarro’s security in action. I feel safer already.”

“Happy to be of service.” Mando replied with a breathy laugh.

You reached out to tickle Grogu��s belly as you walked. “Speaking of service, I’m still waiting for that tour, Marshal.”

“Of course.” Mando nodded. “I think I owe you lunch now as well.”

At the word lunch, Grogu began to babble in excitement. If any other job you worked had you technically working on your day off and specifically spending it with your employer you’d consider it an absolute nightmare. However, this day had only grown more and more enjoyable, and laughing with Mando had knocked off the last bit of awkward chill you had felt overall. Watching him crawl out of a hole had probably helped.

A/N: Do you guys want translations to the Mando’a used? At first I wasn’t going to b/c then as you read you’re just as clueless as the reader on what’s being said, but I know personally I’m too nosy to not know lol. I’ll give translations this time below--

Cyar'ika: darling, sweetheart

K'olar: Come here

Nuh'la: Funny

#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #protective din djarin #good dad din djarin #Female reader #star wars #nevarro #greef karga #the high magistrate #peli motto #mandalorian and grogu #grogu is a precious menace to society #nanny AU #nanny!reader #slow burn

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amnyatas · 27 days

Note

Wasn't sure where to reply to the post about there not being enough content about the Guild Wars 2 ladies but I will say for me personally, I definitely do tend to prefer playing with, fantasizing about, my male characters more. My experience irl as a woman has been in some areas traumatizing, or there's been a lot of shame associated with concepts I wanted to explore as a character, for example: fighting, sex, being ugly, getting hurt. It feels safer or more comfortable with a male character because it provides a kind of distance that allows me to explore and experiment with feelings and ideas that may not feel safe or open to me as a woman with certain experiences.

Further more, it's hard to identify with Guild Wars 2 female characters, as non of them are allowed to be ugly. Middle age does not exist visually in Guild Wars 2 for (human looking) women, nor do torn ears and split lips. They can't be fat, or even particularly muscular - even if they are a war marshal. You can't look monstrous without it coming across as some kind of joke either. There is a kind of unreality, or an over idealization of female characters in mmorpgs whether it's a lack of customization options, or a lack of down to earth female characters. It always leaves me feeling like they're still forgetting their female player base sometimes. Still, I do have female characters. I keep them pretty private because they feel more personal I guess. I'll try to make more effort to share them.

i really don't even know where to start here but i'll do my best.

i think in general i wasn't clear enough, i don't mean the game is misogynist at its core(or that it isn't), i don't even mean individuals are for the most part, i mean little things like that add up and then we have discourse like people shitting on Eir for being a bad mom (on a poll with Cadeucus like. hello?), but being wholly lenient on Rytlock for being in a similar situation where he was far less responsible. Or Caithe being hated eternally for her egg-tastrophe vs Canach's vigilante streak being widely ignored or joked about.

really, its got nothing to do with personal trauma, i can't tell you how to deal with that and if your way is good or bad for you or anyone else. i had someone approach me because they saw their bad relationship with their mother in Eir and admitted they were taking out personal frustration on a fictional character. we all have issues and hangups and ways of dealing with it, that's not the issue, the issue is if it starts affecting how we treat others because of it.

you don't have to sit and try to appease the criticism i make either, just...think about it?

like honestly bringing up womens' appearance ingame is a valid point if it were actually related to what i was saying, but also none of the men in gw2 are really fat either. its a problem persistent in the wider video game industry, not just gw2--i'm talking specifically about the gw2 fandom on tumblr, and my experiences here. which i'm finding i'm not alone in feeling this way, and its kind of frustrating to have an ask like this show up, missing the point and making it personal. its really not about anyone specific!

maybe i wasn't clear enough but its not a gw2-only problem. its the same thing that happens in every fandom. which doesn't make it right, it just...goes unspoken about and it makes people feel like no one cares.

just asking folks to think about where their biases lie, and hell, not even to stop at how they think about fictional women, keep asking yourself if your hatred or dislike or boredom with a character is because you genuinely feel that way or if you have some internalized things that you maybe need to work through.

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mskinkyafro · 2 months

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The Natasha switch up is CRAZY.

I feel like I need it to be explained to me like I’m stupid bc I’m having a hard time with understanding how she’s snakey for chatting and pursuing Stefan.

Especially, if 👏🏾you 👏🏾don’t 👏🏾want 👏🏾him. 👏🏾

*And this RANT is for people who didn’t even choose Stefan or want him. Bc I’m seeing most of this take with them. Vs someone who is on her route. Natasha Stan’s I feel for you. It sucks.

I keep seeing three big reasons why she’s the “worst.”

1) She’s obsess with Mc and Stefan. And gladly is second best to Mc/wants Mc’s leftovers.

Okay, in order to relate it and make common ground with Mc is to tell us that “hey, we were both the same season. Except I was a casa girl. And oop, we might have similar taste, I tried grafting/dating your ex but he was so into you.”

“And overall, y’all appeared so perfect and cute. I admired your relationship and want to have a relationship like yours or have someone be that interested in me.”

(if we go off appearances. Bc Mc can say that everything isn’t what it seems. )

Like clearly she is our exposition/lore character to help us understand what is the status quo BUT narratively, you can infer the questioning especially as we get to Casa is to make sure Mc FOR SURE is done with Stefan. Bc let’s be honest. Ppl be seeing their ex’s and old feelings be coming up.

And they all here for a second shot at love. Plus she has history with Stefan, whether you believe it’s as strong as Mc and his, is beside the point. It’s Casa and she’s single, and he is too. She has the right to explore that.

2. If you’re on a Stefan route, she pulls him for chats knowing I’m interested.

Once again it’s love island. Step your pussy game up if you’re scared of competition. Like it’s chats, BFFR why are we acting like she’s stealing your man, being so vicious and talking bad and sabotaging you behind your back.

I feel like there’s nothing wrong with having chats and still exploring ALL available options.

I get the argument of “if we been spending most of the time with one li, why should she step in and talk to him.”

But at that point it’s the final chats before recoupling, I see no harm in getting final graft time or check in with all casa boys and villa girls to make sure you didn’t overlook anyone. It’s no different than the casa boys, trying to sell Mc about themselves before recoupling. Is that them moving snakey? (to Marshall in my game) And either way, Mc always chooses before Nat so you can still choose him. She can’t fuck you over.

3. It’s just shady behavior how she’s moving bc shes’s been pressuring us about him and saying we are couple goals. But she turns around and grafts and brings him back. Why not just say you want him from the jump?

We as in-game characters didn’t know he was coming back. I mean I feel like it goes without saying she was interested in him from their season. But it was pointless. So fast forward now, idk about others but her talking with him before and after our own clear the air chat. That was clear she is going for him. Go for it girl, I can’t be mad. I don’t want him. And it’s no girl code rule break bc she didn’t even know Mc before this show.

I ain’t gonna hold her to some dumbass standard when we all signed up for a show where we are literally sharing men. I just fail to really see the snake behavior.

To me it differs from Kat who takes your li unprovoked for a chat and heavily tries to flirt and make moves just because. Knowing damn well she’s full of hell and just wants to make her partner jealous, and she chooses yours because she respects Mc the least. 😭

Now if Nat was moving like that with Stefan or your li you actually wanted. We could talk, but girlie literally did what she’s supposed to do on the show.

Make a connection, lock it in and is bring him back. Idk I just find more and more of these overreactions in the fandom so annoying and exhausting from players.

Like damn no one can be competition no more. No one wants to work for their Li affection. They all should worship the ground Mc walks on and never acknowledge any other girl ever. It’s boring af.

Final thing, which just speaks to her overall personality or character traits. Some are holding on to her “shit talking” from the PDA Awards.

But was she wrong?! No! Kat IS and ALWAYS will be ANNOYING and a whiny ass bitch.

Calling Kelly basic was shots fired and Kelly def caught a stray but I mean…Kelly does have more of simple vibe compared to everyone else who embodies the *That bitch* energy. Still all love for Kelly though.

Like y’all please. The “shit talking” was some of the most tamest shit ever. And let’s be for real, if Mc said this shit or has options to be even more bitchy or cuntier, we call them all kinds of Queens, Savages, and Icons. But with Natasha she’s shady.

I’m sorry I REFUSE to let y’all slander Natasha. She be riding for Mc. Remember she was one of the only ones on our side during the PDA debacle with Finn. Whether you did mess with him or not. Like Natasha is a rider.

Even with the drama that Melissa brought, that was Melissa twisting things to be messy. Not Natasha trying to be hurtful. Idc this rant was for her bc I hate how yall switching up on my girl. It’s WILD!

#love island the game #litg all stars #litg #litg natasha #litg rant #the more I see it the more I’m genuinely baffled #like girl securing her spot #I’m sorry but chances ar Hamish was twisting on her ass #he likes her as a person but romantically is a whole other story #she deserves someone who gonna do right by her #also Stefan a catch #they both have similar temperaments they’d mesh well #I ride for Natasha #they can never make me turn in he #Natasha is my girl #if she’s shady then we shady together idc

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vikkirosko · 4 months

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I AM SO HAPPY TO SEE ADVENTURE TIME AMONG THE NEW OPTIONS- Hear me out: Marshall reads monster (the one from Fionna's nightmare) with a monster reader, seeking comfort in each other when they transformed into that.

I'm not sure I understood what you meant correctly, but I hope you like the result

🎸 Marshall Lee x Reader Oneshot Monster 🦇

You and Marshall have known each other for a long time. He saw you turn into a monster and was there to support you. Your life has changed a lot, but Marshall stayed by your side no matter what. However, when he found the "Monster" you tried to convince him not to read it, but he wanted you to be able to stay together. That's why you agreed to support him and read with him. When you and Marshall sat down to read "Monster," you knew that he would soon begin to transform, so you were there. However, the further you read, the more it turned. You supported him, whispering that everything would be fine, that it would hurt just a little. Your words kept him from going crazy. He didn't know how long you had been like this, but next to you he felt that he was not afraid of anything. He is not afraid to turn from a monster forever, because no matter what, you will stay together. Marshall remembered his fear when you turned into a monster, but now his fear has receded. He wasn't afraid of what would happen. He just hoped that the nightmare you both lived in would stop being so scary.

#Adventure Time #Adventure Time x Reader #Marshall Lee #Marshall Lee x Reader #adventure time oneshots

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alagaesia-headcanons · 7 months

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Hey do you have some Tornac headcanons please?

So. uh. This is probably a lot more than you bargained for lmao, I went a bit crazy. This is mostly a continuous story of his backstory through roughly the first year he raised Murtagh, then some more random headcanons after that.

I just. love Tornac <3

- Tornac is the son of the marshal, who oversees the military presence of a nobleman’s castle. His father starts training him in combat when he’s young simply for practicality, with the hope that he can take over his role when he’s older.

- Tornac learns very quickly, even when he’s young. He didn’t have any fervent dreams of knighthood or glory, yet he’s always unwaveringly prepared for new challenges to overcome.

- No one around him entirely recognizes what they have on their hands as Tornac goes through his first several years of training. He steadily masters every skill presented to him, not without struggling, but he never struggles for very long. His father can tell he’s especially talented and he’s impressed when he has nothing more to teach him when Tornac is just 14. He knows his son will be a great swordsman, but it doesn’t occur to him to imagine far beyond the scope of his own largely unremarkable life.

- Regardless, his father is kind and wants him to excel, so he arranges for Tornac train under a more venerated knight in another city. He goes and he learns the more advanced skills the knight teaches him until Tornac can best him too, after only a little more than a year after arriving.

- With the impressed recommendation of his previous tutor, Tornac gets passed around to increasingly renowned warriors, and yet, his capabilities never seem to reach a limit they can’t grow beyond. He never finds a mentor he can’t eventually defeat. Belatedly, his peers and patrons come to realize that Tornac is a true prodigy, something the Empire’s army inevitably takes notice of.

- In his youth, Tornac himself is hard working, reserved, and intensely pragmatic, never particularly outgoing or adventurous. He never cared to question the path his father set him on, even once his father was no longer the one laying it out for him. He’s good at this, and that was reason enough for him to decide to build his livelihood as a soldier. He never stops to consider any other possibility for himself.

- So when the army takes him into the fold to test his mettle, he goes along readily. Even the expertise hoarded by the Empire can’t hold him back by then. He has so little left to learn, and what he does he learns swiftly before conquering every last challenge. At just 20 years old, he earns the simple but resounding reputation of the best warrior of his day- and quite possibly in the history of the Empire.

- (I do imagine Tornac as the best human warrior in the series. In a hypothetical situation where he might have lived, he had the skills to defeat any of the other humans at any point in the story.)

- Tornac needs no convincing to accept a position in the army, especially after his father expresses his support of the opportunity. It is by far the clearest place for him and he struggles to imagine a different option that could suit him, so he doesn’t dwell on the choice to enlist. He honestly doesn’t know what else to do with himself.

- He wasn’t raised with any special loyalty to the Empire. He sees his role in the army as performing a job more so than serving a cause. He’s dismissive of the politics behind the army and he falls short enacting the zealous allegiance that the army prefers to instill in its soldiers.

- Nevertheless, by the merit of his unparalleled swordsmanship, Tornac rises through the ranks swiftly. He doesn’t do much to actively seek out his promotions, not very ambitious by nature, but his reputation elevates him, and after a few years, he settles in the position of commander.

- Tornac spends over a decade in the army, notorious, but no longer just for the fact that he remains undefeated. The years sour him and wear away at every soft part of him, leaving only jagged flint behind. Tornac’s remarkable prowess in combat doesn’t innately suit him to command. He’s adept at it, he would have never lasted so long if he wasn’t, but he hates it. It taxes him horribly, managing so many soldiers- he hates the endless monotony, logistic headaches, enforcing discipline, handling every problem, and ordering around everyone without the common sense to figure out anything on their own. He does it, but he hates every minute of it.

- Tornac grows notorious for being a dismally strict commander, never to the point that he’s called cruel, but famously impatient. It’s an accurate description. He’s utterly intolerant of any disrespect or crassness, irascible and very swift to snap at anyone who’s made a mistake or fumbled their responsibilities, and browbeats his men for talking back to him or his orders.

- It creates an endless cycle of stress and he drinks when he can find the time to try to alleviate the tension. He’s perpetually discontent, but he sees no alternative.

- Tornac carries out his own orders successfully and wins every battle against the Varden’s men when they pressure their borders. While the Empire uses the less effective units of its army to police its own citizens and ensure compliance, it sends Tornac to deal with the real threats. He becomes a very experienced and renowned veteran, but he doesn’t make many friends.

- Tornac is in his thirties when he’s appointed Murtagh’s warden. Of course, in an official capacity, Galbatorix is the guardian of his most loyal servant’s son, but the child’s day to day life is beneath him and so he summons Tornac.

- Tornac is bewildered to be plucked from his post by a direct invitation from the king with no explanation. It’s nothing compared to his absolute shock when Galbatorix announces he is to oversee the upbringing of Morzan’s four year old son. Overshadowing the already confounding revelation that Morzan had a child at all, he cannot fathom why he should have any responsibility over him. He argues that he has absolutely no skill with children and he has duties to fulfill on the other side of the country. Galbatorix informs him that he’s been relieved of his command so he may take on this task.

- Under any other circumstance, Tornac might be overjoyed to hear he doesn’t have to toil in the army any longer, but in the moment, it feels like his world is falling apart. He’s carefully built his whole life around the things he already has full confidence and understanding in, and now, all at once he’s being thrown into something utterly unknown and untried.

- And he has never wanted children. He hates his command because he hates being bothered, and the only thing he can imagine bothering him more is a shrieking toddler. He’ll lose his mind.

- His blindsided panic gets the better of him and he argues against his orders much more brashly than he would have dared to otherwise. Cool and stoney, Galbatorix cuts across him, saying, “Morzan’s son is to become a great warrior. I am giving him the guidance of Alagaesia’s finest swordsman so that he will not fail that expectation.”

- The king leaves not even a hair’s breadth of room for defiance and so Tornac stops showing any. It gets through to him that this is real, so he bows and accepts the task. He might not feel much loyalty to the Empire, but he’s not a fool and he knows full well that the king is not someone to be denied.

- And so it happens that the most famed and maladjusted commander of the Empire’s army becomes the caretaker of Morzan’s four year old son.

- Galbatorix was being honest in his explanation to Tornac. His reason for assigning him to raise Murtagh was Tornac’s martial prowess. From the beginning, he intends to use Murtagh as a weapon when he’s old enough, whether he becomes a Rider or not. So it’s of the greatest importance that he learns to be a strong warrior, and since that requires dedicated training throughout his youth, that’s what he needs Tornac to provide more than anything else.

- The rest Galbatorix is confident he can handle when the time comes to recruit Murtagh. He knows Tornac is rather dispassionate about the Empire and is unlikely to instill much loyalty in Murtagh, but he feels fully willing and able to force Murtagh into compliance if need be, so he doesn’t let that get in the way.

- He’s also aware of Tornac’s less than kindly reputation, but that doesn’t bother him either. In fact, Galbatorix welcomes the possibility that Tornac might mistreat him similarly to how Morzan did- as long as he doesn’t cause more lasting, physical harm. Instinctive, ingrained fear of punishment is something he could make effective use of later down the line.

- So Galbatorix ignores Tornac’s objections that he would be a bad warden for a young child. He will serve the purpose the king actually cares about- forging a weapon.

- Thus Tornac is provided a new life in Uru’baen’s citadel, more lavish than he’s ever known. He’s introduced to his quarters, the household staff, and finally, his ward.

- He doesn’t know what he thought Morzan’s progeny would be, but it certainly wasn’t Murtagh. He’s scrawny and oh so small, with huge, gray eyes deep with uncertainty. He holds himself tense and moves around carefully- because of his wounded back, Tornac soon learns.

- And he’s quiet. Murtagh is remarkably, blessedly quiet.

- At first, Tornac revels in this, astounded by his good luck. He expected a shrill, petulant, and entitled child he simply wouldn’t be able to cope with, but Murtagh is so withdrawn and out of the way, he can almost forget he’s even there. He can live with this, and the relief is profound.

- It doesn’t last, though. After the first week, Tornac starts to get frustrated by how difficult it is to communicate with his new ward. He shies away from his attempts to glean anything about him, mumbling only the most noncommittal answers, then when he does tug on his sleeve, he fails to say what exactly he needs. Murtagh needs so much coaxing to come out of his shell, only to retract again at the drop of a hat, and Tornac finds himself struggling to keep his patience.

- In the way Galbatorix silently anticipated, Tornac does snap at Murtagh in those early days. His habitual stress responses make him raise his voice and reprimand him for being difficult, trying to forcibly override Murtagh’s behavior. It’s counterproductive enough that it starts to make Tornac uncomfortable in a way he’s never felt before.

- Any satisfaction he first felt at Murtagh’s quietness has vanished. He’d rather deal with a well behaved child, but a four year old should have more energy than this, no matter his shyness. His reticence strikes him as more and more unnatural.

- A far cry from what he dreaded when he was told to care for a child, this is how he would imagine having an exceedingly skittish cat. Murtagh hides under the furniture, he tries to leave the room the moment someone else enters, he never makes eye contact with him for more than a heartbeat, and he’s so damn quiet!

- He’s concerned for Murtagh, Tornac realizes, grieved by the signs of fear and pain in a child so young. This is as far as he can get from his responsibilities in the army, and his methods of dealing with it like a commander are clearly making things worse.

- Tornac pulls back to reevaluate. He may be woefully unknowledgeable about children, but his father always told him that his natural talent as a warrior came from his impeccable intuition. He can intuit this. He can observe and analyze and adapt to figure this out, because those are skills he does have.

- He breathes and steadies himself, calming himself like he does before a duel. He aligns himself to Murtagh’s own pace to start off, then adjusts from there. He forcefully reminds himself he’s not working under any deadlines anymore, he has no duties that pile up during any delay, and he lets himself wait for Murtagh to find a degree of courage and comfort in his own very lengthy time. Some days, he never does, but as Tornac allows himself to take this as a chance to rest and recuperate as well, patience comes so much easier. Enough that Murtagh occasionally overcomes his anxiety and opens up to him.

- Tornac resolves to better step into the role assigned to him. He involves himself more consistently in Murtagh’s day to day, he bends his focus and decisions towards his safety and comfort, and he starts to teach him lessons. Murtagh’s still so young that they’re hardly vital, so he keeps them short and light, hoping for enjoyment over education.

- He does that so Murtagh can gain a semblance of routine and, more than that, so he can get a sense of Tornac’s role in his life. It lets him see that he doesn’t need to fear his presence and intentions. It’s a way for Tornac can demonstrate that he has no desire to hurt him.

- And not just that he doesn’t want to inflict new hurt, but he doesn’t want to exacerbate his old wounds either.

- Murtagh won’t talk to him at all if he can smell any whiff of alcohol, doing everything he can to escape his presence, so Tornac cuts back on his drinking. He finds himself remarkably unbothered by it, and it’s far easier than he imagined.

- Murtagh flinches and cowers whenever Tornac pats him on the head, immediately on the defensive. It leaves him so on edge and desperate to perform perfect behavior that Tornac can’t unravel the source of his fear when it happens. Only after a while does he coax Murtagh into revealing that his father used to manhandle him by dragging him by the hair.

- So Tornac trains himself not to reach for his head and pats his shoulder instead, squeezing lightly to comfort him. And he tries to come up with another way to convince him not to worry about it because the child has a real knack for getting his hair tangled and he could really use a brush.

- As Tornac lets go of his habits and reinvents his approach to this new situation, he changes. His anger and discontent peter out. His impatience is nowhere to be found. Once he stops expecting every little thing to stress him out, it stops happening, and he realizes that his stress was a habit in itself, born of years and years in a role that didn’t suit him.

- Tornac finds happiness and fulfillment he never imagined in being a caretaker, a guardian, and a teacher. It gives him peace.

- There is a span of time in the midst of this, when Murtagh starts to trust him but before he learns how to fully opens up, that he shares himself with Tornac without the words he’s not yet comfortable with. Quietly, mumbling sometimes, he gives Tornac a small, worn book of sweet poems for him to read to him. He grabs his hand and leads him to meet the cat he befriended in the yard. He presents him with his most cherished and only remaining toy and even lets him hold it.

- At this point, two things happen. Watching Tornac engage with the things he loves with careful and genuine care makes Murtagh accept Tornac and give him his complete trust. He decides he’s someone he can rely on and wants to turn to whenever he needs to. Murtagh sees in Tornac what he always wanted to have from his parents.

- Simultaneously, Tornac falls in love with Murtagh. He discovers such a wonderful, precious child, and the tendencies he previously saw as stains of fear and damage, now he can see nothing but bravery and resilience within them. He wants to see him grow and thrive and he wants to contribute anything he can to that. If someone told him just a few months ago that he would be doting on his ward like a parent pampering their firstborn, he would have laughed himself to tears. But before he even realizes what’s happening, Tornac’s wholeheartedly dedicated to raising Murtagh.

- Tornac gets over the initial hurdle of putting Murtagh at ease. He comes out of his shell and has a lot more energy and talks much more. He’s eager and expectant, so Tornac now faces the overall task of parent with a feeling of, Okay, now what the fuck do I do?

- That is the recurring theme through the next 14 years he spends raising Murtagh.

- Things balance out now that Murtagh’s recovered enough to start a routine more typical for a young child. He has tutors and training and activities through the days. And now that Tornac himself is better adjusted and doesn’t need to spend all his energy on Murtagh’s immediate issues, he notices his own isolation. He doesn’t have any friends. He’s so used to that that he doesn’t feel particularly upset by it, but he figures Murtagh probably shouldn’t be raised by a recluse.

- So he tries. He’s not very social and his early efforts to make friends feel painfully awkward, but he slowly gets closer to a few people. Not many, but he’ll just never be that type and he’s fine with that. The head retainer of the household with her vicious wit. The jovial old man who makes the combat training regimens. The head groom of the castle stables.

- They become the closest. Tornac tells him a lot about the antics of raising Murtagh. His friend always laughs and says he’s got a great kid, but for his part, he’ll stick to horses. He is the one who provides the foal Tornac gives Murtagh.

- Tornac tries his damnedest to stop him from naming the horse after him, but it’s a losing battle. The kid’s too stubborn to admit that he just couldn’t come up with anything better and refuses to change it. Depending on who’s being more cooperative with his interests, his horse or his warden, Murtagh enjoys designating “the better Tornac”. When Murtagh’s not using the name for jokes, the horse is often called “Tor” for clarity.

- Tornac sleeps like the dead, he is so hard to wake up. Murtagh is always a restless sleeper and struggles with nightmares. When he’s young, sometimes when he wakes up in the middle of the night, he goes into Tornac’s room to sleep with him. He crawls up onto the bed and full on rearranges Tornac, moving his arms and shuffling all around him until he’s finally comfortable and Tornac sleeps through the whole thing. He wakes up with his arms wrapped around Murtagh who’s snuggled against his chest as he tries to do the bleary mental math of if he was there the whole time or if he’s a new addition.

- Tornac is aromantic. He was focused on other things when he was younger, and whatever shift was supposed to add romance to his focuses as he grew up just never seemed to happen. He makes plenty of excuses for that to himself, all the while finding other people’s dedicated interest in romance vaguely weird. He never feels the urge to know what he’s missing.

- He doesn’t quite identify it as an underlying lack of attraction. In his brief musings about it, he comes to the conclusion that, oh well, he must just have unreasonably high standards that no one can actually meet and that’s the reason no one appeals to him, then he shrugs and never thinks about it again. He never marries or has any kids other than Murtagh.

- Murtagh does get an impression of this when he’s a bit older, starting when he gets his first crush. Of course he turns to Tornac, because he knows everything, only for him to shrug and go, “Maybe flowers, I think flowers are supposed to be romantic, right? Try that?” He’s no help at all.

- Murtagh considers what Tornac does not, which is that if too high standards are what’s actually behind his disinterest, that would be extremely frustrating. But Tornac seems perfectly content without a partner. Murtagh knows even if the perfect person walked into his life, Tornac wouldn’t want them.

- Both Tornac and Murtagh have conflicted feelings about outright calling each other father and son. It’s something they never fully work through before Tornac’s death.

- For Tornac, he’s reluctant to call himself Murtagh’s father because of self consciousness. Despite his best efforts, Murtagh has a rather tumultuous upbringing with no small amount of suffering. He’s mistreated by many people around him and some get close enough to hurt him more dramatically. Murtagh endures attacks, manipulation, betrayal, coercion, and a few, worse things.

- Tornac beats himself up for not protecting Murtagh from these wounds. He believes a real father should take better care of his child and balks from claiming Murtagh as his son when he feels like he failed him in that regard.

- For Murtagh, he refrains from declaring himself Tornac’s son because he feels like a burdensome child. Murtagh sees himself as trouble, unreasonably difficult and hard to deal with. He’s so conspicuous and marked by preconceptions he never had the chance to control, and trouble flocks to him without end. His life will be a thorny mess no matter what either of them do, and Murtagh fears Tornac would never want to claim a child like that.

- Even when he’s trying his best, awful things happen to him that Tornac has to manage and that makes Murtagh so deeply guilty. He doesn’t want to force Tornac to accept him as his responsibility more than he already has to through the even tighter bond of being his son.

- Wholeheartedly, they mutually feel that they are truly and fundamentally father and son. But they never find the courage to say it as profoundly as they feel.

- Murtagh blames himself for Tornac’s death- for not fleeing the moment Galbatorix first tried to beguile him, for asking Tornac to escape with him despite the danger, for not protecting him better.

- Tornac would be inexpressibly proud of who Murtagh’s become.

#eragon #inheritance cycle #tornac #murtagh #galbatorix #answered ask #i love tornac so fucking much #if he had lived he wouldve burned the whole world for murtagh #he would have never given up on him like everyone else did 😭😭😭#also we love an aromantic king #my writing

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sparxaf · 4 months

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Tried S9 or whatever

I didn't want to play. I just wanted to see what the MC options were because it's fun to build an MC. So I built this one with kind of stupid space bun hair because all the hair is stupid and looks wrong, like the volume of the hair is too small for the size of the head and the head looks too small for the width of the shoulders. And oh my god why did the locs look so bad? Fusebox has done locs successfully before, so I know they know how! What even is this? Every season it gets worse and worse with them paywalling all the protective hair options, and then having the audacity to give so little fucks about making them look decent (I will admit, I liked the mermaid braids last season though). As a woman of color it's just infuriating. But yeah, after building an MC that I liked, it was 92 gems. 92. If you buy the 140 gem package in the US for $9.99, that means it would cost $6.56 before the game even started. What? Just to be pied off by characters I never liked to start with? I shut the game down without buying a single thing or even making it past the creation process. I can spend less on an overpriced tea latte from Starbucks that will give me much more joy.

I know I say I'm done every season and then I get sucked in because my fandom friends beg me to play, but I really do think I might be done with this one. I'm just beyond uninterested. Their bait and switch "All-Stars" BS already set my teeth on edge, and I hate the "stars" they've brought back. I've seen the possible list of returning characters and there isn't a single one I care enough about to entice me to play. I love Marshall but if he comes back as a host, I don't care. It won't be canon to me. And if he comes back as a returning islander, I don't care because it won't be canon to me. There is such a fundamental disconnect in Fusebox's understanding of what people want. I'm just fucking tired. The seasons are coming so fast and furious that the fandom can't even get on its feet and enjoy what happened. I keep having to go back to the fandom wiki to even remember what happened in the previous seasons because they're just blurring together in my mind. There's no time to discuss it or theorize or come up with fun fanon. To make mood boards and character boards dedicated to what kind of house they'd live in. There's no time to craft a long fic for the season that just ended unless you start it at the beginning of the season before events even happen. It's just sucked out all the joy. Which maybe, might be the point? Throw them at us so fast, we play hard, and don't have time to think about it or criticize it or come up with ways to make it better. Consume it like a rice cake. Flavorless and forgettable. And I say this as someone who actually rather enjoyed last season, until it got stupid repetitive, with what felt like zero branching.

I dunno. I'm just not having fun. For those who are having a good time, or at least enjoying the chaos and train wreckage, I'm so glad. I look forward to hearing about it because I know I will 😆 For me, I'm gonna be focusing more on finishing TSIME and then working on some original fiction. And maybe some Romance Club fanfic, if the mood strikes me. Because the world building, branching, storytelling, and sexy love interests (even when I hate them) are delicious and immersive. NGL it's expensive, but RC is more generous with their gem rushes and tea parties and whatnot so I don't feel ripped off.

I mean look at this man. If I have to spend my hard earned money on something other than tea lattes from Starbucks, I'm spending it on him.

#not enough fomo in the world to make me graft Hamish #love island the game #litg all stars #litg s9 #fusebooo #romance club #romance club amen #amen scn

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waywardducks · 1 year

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I had this idea and I had to write it down so I'm writing here! What sport would the bat kids play in a non hero universe? I’ve seen other people do electives in general (which included some sports) but never seen someone do strictly sport. So I'm here to do just that!!

Dick is in gymnastics, obviously, it’s a given. He does it because of his parents. It makes him feel sentimental to be able to replicate the same moves his parents invented. He knows he makes them proud with every flip or twist. It certainly makes Bruce proud.

I feel like Jason would be a swimmer? Why? Idk, he just gives swim team/theater kid vibes. He has the body type for it as well, with very broad shoulders. He probably started it bc Dick was doing a sport and he wanted to as well.

Tim is difficult. I want to say figure skating, (it’s my favorite sport tbh) he has the perfect body for it and I could see his parents having him do it from a young age. He definitely hates it at first, but slowly learns to love it as he gets older. The only other option I would have for him is cross country or track. But I’m not sure his parents would have him do that, (not sophisticated enough) so figure skating it is! He definitely skateboards more that figure skates though. He could go pro skateboarding if he wanted.

Stephanie is a tenis player. She loves cute mini skirts and all her stuff is purple. She probably joined for the outfits to begin with and stayed because she liked the game.

Cass is a ballerina, this is another given. She could totally go pro, but doesn't want to. She just does it because it's something that's always brought her joy.

Damian is probably in both soccer and fencing. He seems like an, “I’m doing everything at once” kinda kid. He’s probably in some form of marshal arts as well. I feel like Jon plays soccer, which is why Damian got into it.

Duke seems like a baseball fan if I’m being honest. He probably collects cards. Bruce probably took him to get signed merch at games. He definitely wants to play pro one day so he works hard. He’s not as athletic as his siblings (he didn’t start playing until he met was adopted) but he will be!

#batman #dc comics #jason todd #tim drake #dick grayson #batfam #bruce wayne #red robin #damian wayne #batfamily #batkids #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #duke thomas #sports au #no heroics #jon kent #ill do other super kids later

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the-possum-writes · 11 months

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[Daily Routine]

❥Character: Scorcher (Adventure Time)

❥Tags: SFW, domestic fluff, established relationship, gender neutral reader

❥Synopsis: Scorcher's day to day life now that he has a partner to worry and run errands with.

❥Wordcount: 1008

❥A/N: While I fill out most of the Marshall Lee requests, I also wanted to write something for one of the mostly forgotten bad guys.

❥Taglist: @foxpearlwilder

With a bounty hunter as skilled as him, it's no wonder he'd knock out everyone in the room faster than you can say Mississippi. Gunshots ring out from every direction like an endless rain of projectiles, but it's never been an issue for Scorcher when he transforms into a cloud of ash that indiscriminately fazes through bullets and chokes a couple of his attackers in the process. Those who caught a glimpse of his entire body only saw bright eyes within dark red before going black. The mission at hand is similar to many others in that it involves collecting the bounty of a wanted individual, in this case a criminal leader who is fully armed and guarded, but it's nothing this veteran bounty hunter can't handle. Throughout this entire ordeal, a phone begins to ring from Scorcher's pocket; typically, he would ignore calls at work, but this is his personal phone, and he is unable of ignoring it because it only means one thing. "Hi honey, I'm at the supermarket and there are potatoes on sale; would you like them baked or fried for dinner?" a polite but indecisive voice on the phone asks.

Scorcher weighs his options even when a bodyguard comes charging at him with a knife, to which he twists the guy's hand behind his back, forcing the blade out of his grasp, eventually shoving the person out of the way as he answers. "Both." His tone is short but firm, unlike the person on the phone. "Alright! I'll see you later. Byeee." The other person on the line hangs up, leaving Scorcher to continue working.

With only confident strides, the bounty hunter entered the boss's office after the last bodyguard was withdrawn from service. He barely opened the door with a side step as a bullet hole bursts into the wooden door beside him, Scorcher unfazed despite his cowering target literally backed right into the corner as he continued shooting rounds at the unstoppable bounty hunter, the empty shotgun clicked pathetically with Scorcher right behind the crime boss with his dagger to his throat

"Please, I'll give you anything!" The boss begs for his life by offering all of his riches and valuables, but nothing is more valuable to Scorcher than a job well done. Well, aside from his other biggest treasure.

He readies his blade for the final strike, but it misses its mark when the phone in his pocket vibrates. Without averting his beady eyes from the mafia leader, Scorcher answers the phone with one hand while holding onto the blade with the other. "Hi honey! sorry to bother you again but can you come pick me up at the grocery store? it started raining and I didn't bring an umbrella with me." the caller asks apologetically. Scorcher doesn't verbally respond but the positive grunt was all the confirmation needed. "Be there in five." he adds before hanging up once more.

The last thing you hear before hanging up on him was a pained shout immediately cut short, you weren't new to your boyfriend's line of work so you shrugged it off as you contemplate the rain right outside the grocery store, shuffling your weight side to side as you wait.

The doorknob shuffles a bit as you nonchalantly discuss your day, he isn't the most talk active person but he's a great listener. "...And then I asked the cashier when would they start selling tangerines and she told me that they should be available by next month since that's when the season starts but if you ask me it should start way sooner with all the rain we've been getting. Either way enough about me, how was your day?" you turn your attention to your boyfriend carrying the groceries with a single arm, not only is he strong but also taller than the average person to the point he has to crouch down before entering your shared safe house. "Good," he states by placing the groceries on the kitchen table. His profession has made him plenty of enemies so he had this house specifically built for you. Scorcher didn't have his height taken into account because it was made just for you, but after you persuaded him that you would feel more safer with him around, he was unable to refuse your request to move in.

"That's always nice to hear." you place your own bag alongside the kitchen counter, mainly the stuff you need to make dinner. You're minding your own business by washing the potatoes your bought earlier but the tall presence behind you grabs hold of the vegetables next to you by the counter, you smile to yourself, placing your hand on his. "How sweet of you but I can imagine you're exhausted from work, let me take care of dinner while you lay down a bit okay?" you bring up in a soft tone that makes it impossible for him to decline, Scorcher leans down to place a kiss on your forehead before leaving you alone with the cooking ingredients.

As the cooking utensils and pots begin to clang from the kitchen, Scorcher takes the chance to take out the crystal-like device from his pocket and project a hologram that looks a lot like a laptop monitor. He then throws himself into the couch and calls his company to let them know about today's work. He also unwinds by browsing social media in general, keeping up with what his colleagues are up to and offering his services to possible employers. You carefully move to the side to get behind Scorcher, but there's no way to sneak up on this skilled man. Before you could react, he whirled around and drew you into an embrace, which made you burst out laughing. "I was gonna say that dinner is ready, do you wanna eat first or take a shower?"

Scorcher nuzzles into your neck, prompting you to laugh once more. He may not talk much but when he does it sends shivers down your spine. "Depends, are you for dessert?"

#adventure time x reader #scorcher x reader #Scorcher #adventure time villians #reader insert

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grits-galraisedinthesouth · 9 months

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"If we back down from this---there is nothing left"

Lara Logan (God bless her) interviewed Rep Clay Higgins who has a career in law enforcement. I hope Representative Clay Higgins is right. -GRITS

Lara Logan's Truthinmedia.com Episode 9

www.policestatefilm.net @Truth_InMedia

Police State Trailer:

youtube

Episode 9: Rep. Clay Higgins Speaks Out

Clay Higgins brought his investigative skills from the streets of Louisiana where he was a cop for years to the halls of congress, where he’s been investigating January 6th ever since it happened.

We sat down for a tough, far-reaching interview to explore what he’s learned…

Read the Episode Transcript:

Lara – studio intro

We’re breaking with our regular series to bring you a rare, in-depth interview with a man who is no stranger to controversy and doesn’t seem to give a damn what people think of him. Clay Higgins has gone from cop to congressman. And along the way, did things law enforcement officers don’t normally do, like the way he delivered his message in crime stopper videos that earned him the name the “Cajun John Wayne.”

If you look him up online, you’ll find no shortage of articles condemning Clay Higgins as a far-right conspiracy theorist, peddling in crazy, unfounded ideas about January 6th. Then again, these are the same people who told us Hunter Biden’s laptop was Russian disinformation and President Donald Trump was a Russian spy. Simply put, they often lie and we don’t care what they think.

We know we’ve been deceived about January 6th because the narrative has shifted. For example, we now know from court cases and the FBI itself that the bureau did have undercover assets on the ground. That’s one of the reasons we wanted to speak to Representative Higgins. He’s one of the few in Congress who’s challenged the insurrection narrative from the start and as a former law enforcement officer himself knows a thing or two about investigations.

Powerful people who dominate the flow of information don’t want you to hear what he has to say or what he’s learned over the past two and a half years. That alone seems like a compelling reason for us to find out.

Lara

This is a letter from Bennie Thompson, who was chairman of the January 6th Select Committee, and he sent this to TSA, to the Honorable David Pekoske, who’s the administrator for TSA.

They want a briefing on “efforts to address the travel of white supremacists and other domestic terrorist groups. Options for quickly denying air carrier service to individuals posing a potential threat, and current status of efforts to identify and add to watchlists.” How far does this go?

Clay

That letter was the beginning of an executive action by the TSA to use its authority to instruct America’s air marshals to track and follow Trump supporters that have been charged with no crime. They were guilty only of – of arriving by air into D.C. on January 4th, fifth or sixth. And those – those manifest were turned over to the FBI.

The FBI went through those manifest. And every American that they identified, that the FBI identified as a Trump supporter, that was on those manifest was added to the FBI’s suspected domestic terrorist watch list. The FBI create the profile on those people – a suspected terrorist profile, and then the TSA administrator used his authority to instruct air the Marshals of America to track those Americans wherever they fly and

Lara

Still today?

Clay

It’s still happening. This is who our air marshals are following, the Trump supporters and that letter signed by Bennie Thompson, who was chair of the J6 Select Committee and signed by John Katko, who at the time was a ranking member.

Lara

A Republican.

Clay

He was the lead Republican of the Homeland Security Committee advising the- the Pekoske, the TSA senior guy to use all of that authority to track Trump supporters that have not been charged with a crime. They were guilty only of arriving in D.C. by air.

Lara

And every time they fly, they’re being tracked?

Clay

That’s right.

Lara

If they have never been convicted of terrorism, why are they on the terror watch list? It’s a violation of the First Amendment. They exercise their First Amendment rights. They’re being punished for it. It’s a violation of the Fourth Amendment. I mean, how many laws does this violate? How many rights does this violate? This is not a free country.

Lara

You’re not a free country where you’re tracked by air marshals, by the way, at taxpayer expense. And we’re not talking about an insignificant expense. Teams of three air marshals tracing people all over the country? You’re putting physical detail onto people.

Clay

That’s right

Lara

That’s the most expensive form of surveillance that exists.

Clay

Let me say – let me clarify. It’s very comforting to Americans to think that there’s, there might be an air marshal on your flight.

Lara

Not if they’re tracking you for your political beliefs.

Clay

Well, not if they’re being used for nefarious purposes. But the people that are complaining about this are the air marshals themselves, digital whistleblowers that are coming forward to tell a congressman that they felt would pay attention.

Lara

This has been going on since January ‘21 and you just found out about it. What else is going on, that we don’t know about?

Clay

We don’t know, but I’m telling you, we’re in uncharted waters as it relates to the weaponization of our government against the American people. I am not frightened of these people. I’ve spent my life serving others and and I love my country. This thing is not going to just slip away. They’re not going to take us without a fight.

Clay

And I’m going to fight legally and peacefully and within the parameters of the Constitution that I’ve sworn to serve, but they’re going down. These – these men, and their high perch in there, their position of power and authority and are walking upon our entire history, our deepest core principles. They’re not going to get away with it.

Lara

They have so far.

Clay

We’ll see.

Lara

Powerful people in this country. They want to make sure no one hears your voice. They want everyone to look at you like a far-right, crazy conspiracy theorist. Is that who you are?

Clay

No, m’am. I’m a regular American man. I’m an investigator – police officer by background. I’m going to continue to speak the truth, whether anybody likes it or not.

Lara

You’ve always been controversial. I mean, even when you were in law enforcement, you did those crimestopper videos that went viral. People loved them. You got a lot of heat for them, too.

The Gremlin Street gang is responsible for hundreds of violent crimes: Murders, armed robberies, witness intimidation, burglaries, drug trafficking, extortion, and brutal beatings.

We’ve arrested 10 of these thugs and have warrants on seven more. You will be hunted, you will be tracked, and if you raise your weapon to a man like me, we’ll return fire with superior firepower.

Darren Carter – you think men like these are afraid of an uneducated, 125-pound punk like you? That’s never won a fair fight in your life and hold your gun sideways? Young man, I’ll meet you on solid ground any time, anywhere. Light or heavy. Makes no difference to me. You won’t walk away. And for those who would use this message as a way to create false racial division in our country, take a close look behind me. Standing next to every cop is a leader of our black community. This is not about race. It’s about right versus wrong.

Lara

Was that your idea with you? Were you the reason behind that?

Clay

Those videos, those public service announcements were part of my job that the sheriff asked me to perform.

Lara

Because you were the press officer? Public affairs person?

Clay

Public service, but that was a late in my career. I didn’t ask for that position, I had been a swat cop for long time. In fact, when the sheriff asked me to to take that role, I first I thought he was joking. And I told the sheriff, “I don’t know how to do that.” and he said, “well there, it’s easy.”

Clay

And you show up where the TV people tell you to show up and you stand where they tell you to stand and somebody holds the script for you and you read it. I did that a couple of weeks. I read the script, but I was uncomfortable with that because it wasn’t real. It wasn’t reflective of what I had been telling actual suspects for many years.

Clay

In the dead of night. That direct conversation that a lone cop will have, whether a young man has taken a wrong turn in life and asked to be arrested. That’s a very special communication for a good cop.

Lara

How do you do that, Clay? How do you have that conversation?

Clay

Well, you speak candidly and honestly and from your heart with compassion, but discipline and confidence. I mean, if – if I show up in your life at 2:00 in the morning, it is not because you’ve had a good day. I don’t consider you to be a bad man. You’ve just done something that has crossed a line and – according to statute, and I’m ‘a help you through the booking process and hopefully lead you to a better day.

Clay

Their only path really to freedom was through my jail and – and real freedom. Spiritual freedom would – would be if they could break the bonds of darkness, you know. So the way I deliver the message when I began having to record video segments, I just communicated in that same honest manner. And – and what started happening is people started turning themselves in.

Lara

People responded. And even beyond your little sheriff’s department in Louisiana.

Clay

It was big.

Lara

Right?

Clay

Worldwide. Some of those videos, wh- they were translated in eight languages, I’m told. IT people told me they were viewed 150 million times across the world.

Lara

No one had seen anything like it.

Clay

It was just honesty. And that’s what I do in Congress.

Lara

Well, there is another video of you that went viral not so long ago, which is when you at that press conference on the Hill and that activist kept coming up and you leaned in and took your sunglasses down, you told him, “I’m going to give you an interview. I’ll give you what you want, but this is what you got to do.”

Lara

And then he came back.

Clay

You had a Freedom Caucus press conference immediately following a Bernie Sanders-like rally. So they had, you know, not necessarily a good mix. You – one could anticipate there might be some activists there that that would not necessarily agree with the kind of things we were saying in our in our press conference. And one of those little fellas figured out there was no police around.

Clay

So he wanted to be more aggressive than he should have been.

Man causing a scene: Can you talk about when your family did an ad all endorsing your opponent and…?

Clay

And he came on and saw the barriers, you know, into the press area. He was not a journalist.

Lara

He was walking right between the group of congressmen.

Clay

Yeah, he came – he was trying to get around to Lauren Boebert and I had already dressed him down a little bit and put him in a box.

Man causing a scene: You can’t answer the question that he has.

Clay: No I can answer the question.

Man: Okay, listen, What’s your name?

Clay: Clay Higgins. I represent South Louisiana. All I’m asking you is to just peacefully stand by with your camera. I promise ya – look at me – I’ll come talk to you straight up and answer all your questions. Fair enough?

Man: Do you know about his family and his endorsement? Yeah.

Clay: I’ll answer that when we talk.

Clay

That didn’t last but maybe a minute and he decided to get even more aggressive, so I just – I had to escort him out of the area. I turned him over to the police. That was the end of it.

Lara

I like the way you say “escort him out.” You basically picked him up and walked him over and put him down.

Clay

That was an escort.

Lara

That’s a Clay Higgins escort?

Clay

That’s a Clay Higgins escort, Yeah.

Lara

And you stayed very calm and said, “Calm yourself.”

Clay

Calm down, son.

Lara

It sounded like you’d said those words before.

Clay

Yeah, I’ve said them before. Kind of where we are as a nation right now. It calls for calm consideration and response to the oppression that we face from within. It’s – it’s quite nefarious.

Lara

Tell me what you mean. What do we face as a nation?

Clay

Generationally, we have allowed our federal law enforcement agencies to gradually become commanded by corrupted men, and they’ve been corrupted not so much by money, but by power. And that power really began manifesting itself insidiously with The FBI and DOJ and our intelligence services since 9/11, since the Patriot Act. We gave them great authorities and power.

Clay

Those powers are no longer being – being used to thwart terrorists. They’re being used to oppress the individual rights and freedoms of regular Americans like me and like the citizens I’ve sworn to serve. So I have a problem with that.

Lara

The counter to that would be these are not ordinary citizens. These are domestic terrorists. Because that’s, I mean, it’s very clear from Christopher Wray, the letter that he wrote about parents going to school board meetings that need to be investigated as terrorists. You speak at a Moms for Liberty event today, you get targeted by the Anti-Defamation League or the Southern Poverty Law Center or someone like that as a domestic terrorist. And these organizations are working very closely with not just social media companies, but with law enforcement.

Clay

Regular patriotic American men and women are not terrorists. Let me say the factions within our highest levels of federal law enforcement – And I and I and I – FBI and DOJ and intelligence services, these corrupted men we’re discussing, they could be more readily identified and more accurately described as domestic terrorists than – than me. They’re the ones treading upon my individual rights and freedoms. They’re the ones that’s spying on – on Americans. They’re the ones traveling uh great distances to, to insert themselves into the lives of Americans that are just communicating freely, as is our right online or anywhere else, at meetings as we congregate and gather.

Lara

What about those who say your, your right to gather and uh have a conversation doesn’t give you a right to assault police officers and disrupt Congress and so on?

Clay

I don’t support battery on police officers or, uh, nor – nor violent disruption of – of government operations, but I will remind everyone that a free American has a right to resist an unlawful arrest.

Lara

At the last hearing where you addressed Christopher Wray, you produced a photograph of what you called “ghost buses.”

These two buses in the middle here, they were the first to arrive at Union Station on January 6th. Zero 5-hundred. I have all this evidence. I’m showing you the tip of this iceberg.

Lara

Your point really was that they’re unmarked vehicles full of individuals that have not been explained. Is that right?

Clay

A “ghost vehicle” in law enforcement is not an uncommon reference. It’s vehicle has been purposefully concealed to – to whereby it’s not easy to identify. So no license plate. It’s been painted over its original cover. In this case, these two buses were totally painted white, like a cheap, vast overspray over all of the markings. So when you have two charter buses show up, the very first buses to show up in Union Station on January 6th…

Lara

Around 5 a.m.?

Clay

Around 5 a.m. The initial witness, another charter bus owner, arrived at – at 5:20. He thought he would be the first to arrive because he knew the schedule of all the other charter buses and he knew that most the buses would begin arriving around 6. So this charter bus operator was very experienced man. Very squared away. When he arrived with his couple of buses, these two white buses were – were to his surprise already there, and he immediately noticed that these buses were odd because they were totally painted over. It was a bad paint job. There was no markings, no phone numbers, no company name, totally outside the parameters of the way charter buses are required to operate and by law. So he said, “these buses are weird” and no one was getting out.

Clay

So something else that happens within that charter bus driver community is the drivers know each other. The passengers may stay on a bus if they’re especially in a parking lot, and not ready to disembark yet.

Lara

Sure.

Clay

The passengers might stay on a bus, but the bus drivers get off and they talk to each other.

Clay

They talk to the other bus drivers. So there are things that happen normally that the absence of that happening was odd. So he was suspicious enough of these buses as a professional, that he collected some digital evidence of those buses and then estimated with him and – and other eyewitnesses between 40 and 50 guys that they described as “Trump supporters.”

Clay

They all disembarked from the bus and they gathered in front of – of the two buses and they had like some kind of discussion, a briefing like the way a military leader would address his troops.

Lara

Yeah, they call it a huddle.

Clay

And then they together went to the escalators and up into Union Station and were gone.

Lara

And they were all men?

Clay

They were all men in all the Trump regalia. These men were in really good shape. They made comments like, “Wow, these are real serious Trump supporters. These guys” and they said they all had elbow pads and knee pads. And least they appeared like they had common equipment, but they were not in uniform, but they – they behaved in a uniform manner. 0

Clay

And we intend to get all of that video evidence from Union Station, from the escalators, from the parking lot. We have other eyewitnesses, much to the chagrin of everybody that was in those buses and everyone who commanded them to be there. We’ve identified one of those buses. And you know what that means? That means that’s their ass, because a bus is a serial numbered vehicle.

Clay

And in America, the change of ownership of a serial numbered vehicle…

Lara

Is recorded.

Clay

Is documented. So that means we can begin to trace from the original owner of that bus where it was sold and who bought it, and then who it was leased to and where it disappeared. And then eventually those buses were removed from the Union Station and we’re going to document all of that.

Lara

So you believe that those buses held undercover officers, not informants? Correct?

Clay

I feel very, very confident that – that everybody that was on those two buses were FBI assets.

And I have a high degree of belief there were actual FBI agents. And – and I’m, I’m sorry to say, ma’am, my objective conclusion is that – that senior officials at the at the FBI were deeply involved there.

Clay

You had a combination of FBI confidential informants either registered, unregistered – or a volunteer informant, or actual FBI agents depending upon a group and how significant a group was. Like the agents inserted in say the Proud Boys groups that we’re going to come to D.C. Those are most probably actual FBI agents. Whereas some, you know, random Facebook group of patriots from Arizona or something were most likely an informant.

Clay

So it would still fall under the umbrella of an “FBI asset” if they were communicating with the FBI – data that they were harvesting and information that they were recording and delivering it to the FBI, screenshots of text chats or actual recordings of phone calls, things like that – that they were delivering to the FBI, all part of the web of surveillance of the American people.

Lara

What have you seen? What can you tell us about? I know you can’t get ahead of everything. I know there’s limitations on some of this, but can you tell us anything?

Clay

I can tell you that, that the FBI had, had established a formula in 2020 that, that they pursued with all their – their power and authority to infiltrate groups across the country of Americans that were essential discussing online. They’d formed online groups.

Lara

Like chat rooms?

Clay

Yeah, like chat rooms.

Lara

Discord and Telegram.

Clay

Etc. to discuss their frustrations with COVID oppression and so the FBI identified groups and and – and infiltrated them with undercover operations that were very effective and they began planting seeds of discord. If you track the – the text threads, which I’ve – I’ve seen some of again, through evidence that I’ve been able to witness, but I cannot, I cannot share publicly because it would be in violation of – of court orders.

Lara

But to be clear, this is video you’ve seen with your own eyes?

Clay

Yes, ma’am. The evidence that was in criminal cases.

Lara

Is this what it’s based on? It’s based on the digital evidence, what you have on camera and supporting evidence for that and other kinds?

Clay

Yeah, eyewitness testimony, sworn testimony, affidavits, text messages, emails, and digital – digital footage. Yes, ma’am.

Lara

A lot of people would say “Clay, you’re lawman, right? That’s what we do. We infiltrate groups where we perceive there to be a threat or potential of crime being committed. We have undercover officers. We have undercover assets like informants. This is the bread and butter of law enforcement. What are you complaining about?”

Clay

They were the criminals. They were the threat.

Lara

Based on what?

Clay

We were just Americans. We were Americans that were that were angry and – and we were enraged that our freedoms were being oppressed and that FBI and the powers that had become corrupted, the those – those bad actors within the federal government that had this authority, they said “these Americans, how dare those Americans challenge the oppression that we’re putting upon them.”

Lara

Can you share any of the messages yet that you have said you traced back to FBI undercovers inside these groups and these chats?

Clay

No m’am.

Lara

Will you share it when you can?

The moment that I’m able to reveal that – that stuff, I will.

Lara

You said specifically that you saw that there were undercover police officers who were inside the Capitol before any of the protesters came in.

Clay

That’s right.

Lara

How do you know that? And can you give us any sense of what that means?

Clay

I mean, if you clearly have men dressed as Trump supporters walking around inside the Capitol on the other side of police officers who are, to one extent or another, not engaged with them, like they’re not concerned about them.

Lara

Right.

Clay

Then you have a set of closed doors like exterior doors and interior doors closed, and you have police officers positioned outside and then in between the two doors and then on the inside of the second set of doors –

Clay

Doors weren’t open yet.

Lara

What time was this?

Clay

This was – a couple of videos that Trump was still speaking and then on the inside, it looked like Trump supporters walking around in groups of five or six, so these were clearly separated physically and by doors and by police officers from the guys on the outside.

Any reasonable man would come to the conclusion– When you have videos of the doors being opened and police officers allowing Trump supporters that had gathered at the door to now enter, no violence, just walking in. “Just come on in, some fist bumps, and come in.” A second set of doors open, then there’s a group of Trump supporters on the steps, interior steps saying, “Come on this way, this way.”

Lara

What does that tell you?

Clay

Any reasonable man would look at that and say this was a coordinated effort by a law enforcement to have these people come in to. So who was that? They had to be, you know, I think as nefarious forces and part of the whole agenda of the – of the FBI with their involvement of this whole thing. We have other evidence, specific observations of police officers, Capitol police or metro, both entering rooms and here in the Capitol in uniform and coming out as Trump supporters and construction workers.

Lara

You’ve seen that?

Clay

Yeah, so…

Lara

Why has that video not been released yet?

Clay

One would say that’s a pretty good clue.

Lara

Yeah.

Clay

The other reason that we believe it’s just practical to have someone who knows how to get around, I mean, you know yourself, you can’t walk around his place. You have to be here for years and years.

Lara

The capitol is a maze.

Clay

That’s right. And it’s incredibly difficult to get around. You have to know where you’re going.

Clay

You had to have people that were very familiar with the the capital itself in order to lead to random groups of citizens that have come from every corner of the country in many cases, never been to D.C. before, much less walked around in the capital. So it – it just makes sense that the Trump supporters that were leading the way and were clearly already inside the capital before the doors were open, were working in coordination with the FBI agents and assets that were embedded into the crowd.

Clay

In some cases in these groups had been embedded for months. This is ugly stuff we’re discussing, but the American people deserve to know the truth and I intend to see that it happens.

Lara

A lot of people just won’t believe it without – they have to see the evidence or they just don’t believe you.

Clay

I don’t want to believe these things. I’ve been a cop for a long time, since I was a little boy. The FBI shield was – that was the baddest ass badge a cop could ever earn. It was an honored achievement to become an FBI agent so it’s with great pain I describe the corruption that has taken hold within our FBI, and we intend to clean it up because these rank-and-file FBI agents, let me tell you that a lot of these men and women are quite disturbed about what has happened to their beloved FBI. Same thing inside the DOJ. We have an obligation as Americans to embrace truth, whether it’s ugly or not, so that we can take corrective action.

Lara

Okay so you have the floor now, but you don’t know how much longer you have it for, right? And you don’t have forever.

Clay

We don’t.

Lara

And it’s been how long?

Clay

10 months.

Lara

10 months?

Clay

Some things have not happened that – that – that the conservatives within the people’s house would like to happen. We’ve had some disagreements internally regarding who shall be our speaker. We just had to go through what we went through in order to arrive at that particular junction of American history where a man like Mike Johnson became our speaker. Mike gets it, that all the digital evidence of for instance J6 has to be released to the American people, talking about altogether between 40 and 50,000 hours of digital evidence.

Clay

No one has a staff large enough to go through that evidence. So it has to be crowdsourced, have to give this stuff to the American people. And then the truth will be revealed, clip by clip.

Lara

Mike Johnson has released precisely 12 and a half thousand hours of that 40,000, and he’s not releasing 5%, which is 2,000 hours. Whether it’s for a good reason or a bad reason, it provides opportunity to hide whatever you want in those 2,000 hours. I’m not saying he’s hiding something because I don’t know.

Lara

But I’m just saying is when you’re withholding 2,000 hours, you can put whatever you want in that 2,000 hours. There are American citizens who are sitting in jail, some of them for three years without a trial. People have gone to solitary confinement for misdemeanor charges, nonviolent misdemeanor charges.

Lara

They’re still arresting people. You expect people to go to an election and vote when they don’t even have answers on their questions on the last election. And over time, more and more and more evidence is coming out in court cases. Right? Judges that wouldn’t take those cases when the light was on them. Now they’re not able to avoid them anymore. So what are you waiting for?

Lara

The people who don’t want the truth out have complete information dominance.

Lara

Right? You come out with something, you have a committee hearing? Dismissed. Conspiracy theories. “Ah Higgins. He’s a far right lunatic. Now, you know, don’t listen to him.” And so there are millions of people in this country that read The New York Times every day. Some of them were in this room, right? They hear you saying this and they think you’re just a nut.

Lara

You’re just a nut. And where’s the evidence or Mike Johnson’s going to release it? What is he waiting for?

Clay

The truth of what happened on those days, J 4 or 5 and 6 is in the digital evidence that Speaker Johnson has control of. And thank God we have a speaker who has stated that he is committed to release all of that data. Now he’s restrained to the extent that he’s restrained by attorneys, but he’s an attorney himself.

Clay

And, and we’ll see. When you when you say not going to release at all, I say, let’s see.

Lara

Well, those were his words, not mine.

Clay

Well, I know the man’s heart and it is pure and he knows that American needs full truth. I believe, I speak on behalf of “we the people” when I say we demand full release. The whole thing. Not just from the Capitol grounds and within the Capitol proper by the way. We want it all. We want all the DC Metro digital evidence. We need evidence from Union Station and and some other spots that we’ve identified.

Lara

Can you tell me any of those spots that you’ve identified, Union Station being one. What other the spots?

Clay

The parking areas and, and areas for dismemberment.

Lara

What do you mean by that?

Clay

The escalator areas where you can connect the dots from agents disembarking from vehicles and going either on foot to their stations and their teams of three and four and five, or getting in other vehicles that were dispersed and where some actions were noted that were born of of those vehicles, where some actions were taken, nefarious stuff.

Lara

What can potentially happen there? If you were a J6 defendant who’s in prison or was convicted of a crime, but you find out later that – that Brady material was withheld from you in violation of the law, is there legal redress for you here?

Clay

Yeah, that would flip the case. The bottom line is that if we are successful, if Mike Johnson is successful at getting all the digital evidence from J4, 5, and 6 released entirely to the American people, including the body cam footage of – of – of every police officer that was either operating in uniform or not in uniform, shall we say, then all these J6 I call “persecutions”, these political prisoners, those cases will be flipped because it’s exculpatory evidence that’s been withheld and the prosecution has a legal responsibility to provide exculpatory evidence that they’re in possession of to the defense. In this case, in every one of these J6 cases that have been prosecuted, the FBI and the DOJ has most certainly been in possession of all the digital evidence that we’re describing right now. If we’re successful at getting that evidence released to the American people, the American people are going to be stunned into acceptance of the reality that our FBI and our DOJ, and in some cases, head people in our intelligence services, have been corrupted by power.

Lara

Have you seen all the video? I know it’s a lot.

Clay

it’s a lot.

Lara

Have you seen the key parts?

Clay: I’ve seen many segments of video that most Americans have not seen, that is incredibly condemning. They’re so desperate to keep this digital evidence away from Americans, just regular citizen’s review, that they’re going through quite complex legal maneuvers to stop Americans from viewing this evidence. Every American that’s watching this should ask themselves why. Whether you’re liberal or conservative, ask yourself why.

Lara

Why do you think?

Clay

Why are you concealing that evidence from me? Why can’t I see that? It’s video from my own capital. People have a tendency to forget, especially my liberal brothers and sisters across the country. This is your country. This is your capital. You have the right to know what actually happened in 2020 in the months preceding J4, 5, and 6. You have the right to see the digital evidence of what truly happened in your capital on January 4th, 5th, and 6th. This is my position.

https://shop.salemnow.com/product/police-state/

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Lara Logan spoke to Steve Bannon's War Room:

https://rumble.com/v41yu2q-bannons-war-room-rep.-clay-higgins-speaks-out-.html

For every martyr: Please forgive us & know your suffering is temporary. 💔

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#police state film #Colour Revolution #lara logan #clay higgins #january 6 #Demand the truth #Banana Republic #clinton crime family #Bush Crime Family #biden crime family #Cheney Crime Family #Obama Crime Family #Brookings Institute #susan rice #Norm Eisen #C.R.E.W.#Todd Agnew

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