#in which i start explaining why the armors exist at all

[suzukiblu]

excerpt from in-progress "timebending with Zuko" fic

Zuko wakes up and everything hurts.

Most specifically, his scar hurts.

That . . . doesn’t make sense, he thinks, and reaches for it automatically. A strong hand catches his wrist before he can touch it, which seems–fair, yes. Probably a good idea, anyway, because spirits does it hurt. Just . . . so much.

“Uncle?” he asks reflexively, attempting to open his eyes. It’s surprisingly difficult. And Uncle is in Ba Sing Se, of course, but he’s on his back on a futon or bedroll or something similar and someone’s sitting beside him and his head is swimming and he’s injured, clearly, so options for who said “someone” might be are limited, really.

So it’s not Uncle, obviously, but . . .

“Nephew,” Uncle says, very quietly, and Zuko . . . blinks.

At least, half-blinks. The one eye’s in too much pain to open.

The ceiling is metal, he notes absentmindedly. That’s . . . odd. He was in the palace, wasn't he?

“What happened?” he asks, vaguely bemused. Uncle pauses in a very concerning way, and Zuko has about three heart attacks about just how badly he doesn’t want to know what he’s about to say before–

“The Agni Kai,” Uncle says, very carefully. “Do you remember it?”

Zuko frowns–just with the one side of his face, because again, his scar hurts right now. To the point that his whole body feels wrong, does his scar hurt right now.

“Um–which one?” he asks, because there’s been about a dozen this month alone, and frankly he’s getting really sick of fighting them at this point but if the old guard of nobles are just going to keep dragging everything out like this–

“With your father, Nephew,” Uncle says, very carefully.

Zuko . . . blinks.

“Oh,” he says, vaguely perplexed. Uncle never talks to him about that. “Yeah, I remember that. What about it?”

“Do you remember what happened?” Uncle says.

“The part where I disgraced myself or the part where he burned my face?” Zuko says, because it’s so fucked up and awful and horrible that he can’t even get upset about it anymore, except when he’s really upset about it. But if Uncle’s bringing it up, presumably he has a good reason to be, so . . . “Or the whole ‘go find the Avatar who no one even believes exists anymore or you can never come home again’ part?”

“. . . all of that, yes,” Uncle says, still sounding very careful. Zuko frowns a little–again with just the one side of his face–and then looks over at him. His body still feels weird and wrong, but . . .

But . . .

They’re on a ship, he realizes. A Fire Nation one.

Well, explains the metal ceiling.

It doesn’t explain why Uncle is wearing red armor and a topknot like he hasn't in years, though, or why he looks so unspeakably sad.

“Um,” Zuko says, and attempts to sit up. His head immediately starts swimming even worse, and Uncle catches his shoulders and keeps him pinned against the . . . futon? Looks like a futon, yeah. “Where are we, exactly?”

“We are aboard a ship,” Uncle says. “I . . . may have slightly commandeered it.”

“. . . you paid for it, right?” Zuko asks, a little skeptical at that idea.

“Yes, Nephew, I did,” Uncle says, giving him a very tired, pained smile. Zuko doesn’t feel much better, seeing it.

“Is someone dead?” he asks, because he can’t think of anything else that would make Uncle look that way.

“Ah–no, no one has died,” Uncle says.

“Then what’s wrong?” Zuko asks warily.

“. . . you are injured, Nephew,” Uncle says, slowly. Zuko frowns, bemused. “And your father . . . I did not know he was going to do this. I am so sorry.”

Zuko . . . pauses. Looks around the room again, and then realizes: he knows this room, doesn’t he. He knows this ship.

This is the same ship he woke up on after the Agni Kai.

“Hold that thought, Uncle,” he says, then lifts his hands and looks at them. They . . . well, they are his hands, obviously.

But they’re not his hands, obviously.

“Huh,” he says, frowning in bemusement at them; turning them around like he half-expects them to stop being a thirteen year-old’s or something equally ridiculous. They don’t. They are very definitely a thirteen year-old’s hands.

Specifically, his thirteen year-old hands.

Huh.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he says after a moment, putting his hands back down and glancing back to Uncle, who’s obviously the more important concern. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I took you into that meeting,” Uncle says, his voice tight. “And I watched the Agni Kai. And I did nothing to stop any of it.”

“I know,” Zuko says. “But it wasn’t your fault.”

“It was,” Uncle says, his smile a sad and terrible thing. “You were there because of my actions. My mistakes.”

“You’re not the one who wanted to sacrifice all those soldiers,” Zuko says. “Or the one who decided to throw fire at my face.”

“You were there because of me,” Uncle repeats, his voice tight and his smile no less terrible. It occurs to Zuko, briefly, that Uncle must be thinking of Lu Ten.

He only ever looks like that when he’s thinking about Lu Ten, so . . .

“Uncle,” he says. “Really. It’s not your fault.”

“Nephew,” Uncle says, and his voice is somehow even tighter. Zuko tries to get up again, and his head swims again, and Uncle moves to stop him again. This time he grabs onto Uncle’s wrists and uses them to pull himself up, and then . . .

Well, then he’s sitting up, at least.

So that’s something.

He tilts his head and his hair slips into his eyes. It’s loose, and long. Not shaved on the sides yet, like he wore it the last time he was thirteen. He supposes he should cut it, but then again, why should he? He's not changing anything, after all.

Except for this conversation, he supposes, because that went very differently last time.

. . . hm.

"Uncle," he says one more time, and reaches out for him. Uncle doesn’t seem to understand what he’s trying to do, so he has to reach out a little farther, and then Uncle makes the connection and leans in and lets him wrap his arms around him and alright, yes: that’s better, Zuko thinks, and clings to him.

Just a little, perhaps, but . . .

Yes. He clings to him.

Uncle wraps his arms around him in turn, very carefully, and makes an awful sound.

“My boy,” he chokes. “I’m so–I’m so–”

“I forgive you,” Zuko lies, because of course there’s nothing to forgive.

But of course Uncle doesn’t understand that, does he.

[winterarmyy]

Plot Twist | Part I

An arranged marriage with mafia!bucky.

Run-through: I just need to get this out of my system. Most of arranged marriage mob/mafia!au I've read has a strong/bratty reader. And a really mean/asshole Bucky. Which is absolutely fine btw but its getting repetitive for me. I wanted to see a reader who's actually soft but fierce when she wants to be. And Bucky who is generally cold and seems to be married to his job but notices small things that the reader do, thus subconsciously started to care about her. They don’t hate each other, nor do they are infatuated. I don’t know if this exist, so I decided write it myself just in case. Enjoy!

Navigation: Part I | Part II | Part III* (end) | Extra

Words: 1.1k++

Pairing: beefy mafia!bucky x female!reader

Warnings: just fluffy and wholesome stuff here. Nothing graphic or explicit.

P/S: I like to write in 3rd pov btw. There's a few mentions of y/n sometimes too. Beware of the grammar mistakes, English is not my first language. This might be 2-3 parts type of fic, so tell me what you think so far.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

“He's late.”

The soft clinking sounds of his rings colliding with each other and onto the dresser woke her up from her deep slumber. Though her body remained still, her mind continued to wonder,

“Late. Again.”  She thought.

The sound of fabrics rustling about hinted her of what was happening beyond her closed eyes. The shut of the bathroom door confirmed her speculations.

“So, what if he came back home late? Why does it concern you?” She questioned herself.

Only a fool would believe if she said that she didn't care at all about the whereabout and well-being of this man. He is her husband after all.

Six months ago, she stood on the alter with that man. They swore an oath. They sealed the kiss. He was hers and she was his.

James Buchanan Barnes; Bucky was what he preferred to called. He is what every man wants to become, and every woman wants to be with.

An Adonis of a man; impossibly tall, 6'5"; body armored with thick layer of muscles. Bucky is huge, that if he trapped her against the wall, she might just see the resemblance of him to a grizzly bear. His dark hair flowed just above his shoulder and his steel blue eyes were as cold as his personality.

Though she wouldn't compare him to a frozen blizzard during the winter, he was more like the first day of snow, when the white flakes started to fall.

Cold enough to make you shiver and warm enough to lure you out but most importantly, obscenely beautiful.

However, of course, the main reason of the marriage set up by her father was not because of how beautiful he is, but to fulfil his hunger for power. As if the territories that their family has wasn't enough, her father arranged this union to extend his reign.

Y/N protested at first but knew better than to fight against her father. Being raised in such family, at a very young age she learned to think always ahead; pass the emotions and intuitions. What's the rational and logical way to solve a problem.

Took her a week to wrap her head around the matter, research about Barnes and go through the agreement between her father and her then husband to be. Barnes had listed some main demands regarding the union and although most of them were about their business, but one particular demand had caught her attention.

“After marriage, the couple must be faithful to one another. Any romantic/sexual relationships prior must be severed/resolved immediately. Failed to do so will result to termination of the contract.”

“Hmm. Interesting.” She thought.

Not that she was in any relationship at the time, and all the research result to possibly positive outcome. So, in the end, she complied.

Which then explained why she was sleeping in Bucky's bed six months later.

“I know you're awake.” Bucky's gravel voice startled her internal thoughts. She could feel the indentation of the mattress on his side of the bed, the fresh and clean scent wafting from him. She nearly purred from a sniff of it.

She slowly opened her eyes as if she was trying to peep and god what a sight to see after a restless sleep; Bucky's idea of pajamas was basic pants and nothing above and Y/N didn’t know what to feel about that. Does she hate it? Absolutely not. Does she like it? Well, he is easy on the eye indeed.

The room was dimly lit, but she could see his slightly damp hair; it looked longer than it is dry. Her eyes followed the outline of his body leaning against the bed. The soft light reflected on his metal arm particularly follows the gold lines decorating the dark surface.

She often had intrusive thoughts of tracing the lines; what would it feel like against her fingertips. Does he feel anything? Is it cold? Will it feel good? 

“You do know that it’s a waste your time to wait for me, right?” He huffed a heavy breath. She could hear the fatigue in his sigh.

And how does Bucky know that she waited for him before admitting her defeat to the drowsiness? Somehow, Bucky always managed to know things, to the littlest matter, even when he’s million miles across the world.

Just like when she found a copy of Pride and Prejudice on the bed a few months ago. The day before she received it, her copy was drenched in coffee; a young woman bumped into her in front of the café she often visit. He was in Russia that time. “Was it Clint? Did he tell Bucky?” she wondered.

“Whoever said I was waiting for you?” She scoffed, yet if the room was well lit enough, Bucky would’ve seen how playful her expression was.

He hummed a deep voice, “Hmm.” there’s a hint of doubt in his tone.

Y/N quickly follow her previous sentence, “I was simply enjoying my reading, that I lost track of time.” She shifted to face him and tucked herself further into the blanket, hiding the lower half of her face as she looked up at him. She wondered if he could tell that she was smiling just from her eyes.

Bucky’s gaze remained still on her, as if he was trying to reach into her soul, before he leaned closer to peek on the book on the table. Pride and Prejudice written on it.

He chuckled, which was rare. At the least the real ones are.

Of course, she had seen him smile and laugh countless of time. Especially during those gala they often attend. But those were just another set of armor he wore on a daily basis.

Bucky tried to bite back a smile, sinking his teeth into his lower lip, “Lost track of time, huh?” Yet, somehow Y/N can hear the smile in his tone.

“A good read?” he asked as if he did not know why his wife brought up about the book. She never said anything about the gift; not a thank you or a complaint. 

She simply cherish it in her own way. He heard from Clint that she rearranged her whole bookshelf just to make space for the book he gave her. Maybe this was her way of saying thank you.

He had been giving her books every week, since.

She pulled the blanket away from her face, lips curled into a genuine smile, “Always.”

Bucky preened to her reply before suddenly, “Okay, enough chit chat. It’s late.” he said almost monotone sounded, as he made himself comfortable under the blanket.

Before she could overthink of what went wrong, why the sudden drop of chemistry; that was when she felt his hand roamed to find hers. Bucky brought her palm closer to his face, she could feel his hot breath against her cold skin. 

He leaned his lips on her palm, leaving a soft and tender kiss as he mumbled, “Goodnight, doll.”

Rush of red shades bloomed on her cheeks, before caving into the feeling of his stubble on her hand. She gently caresses the side of his cheeks, hoping it soothes him to sleep. 

The corners of her lips curved upwards into a smile, "See? Like, the first day of snow."

Part II >>

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: It’s my first fic so... share your thoughts? ily 🤍

[hyrule-in-a-pokeball]

THE MODERN DESCENDANTS OF THE ZONAI

In my last post I explained how the game tells us that the Zonai came to Hyrule from somewhere else, and eventually disappeared, leaving just two Zonai behind.

There are only two possible explanations for why they disappeared.

1: They went back to where they came from. Pretty simple. 2: They died out. This is the possibility we'll be looking at.

There are two forms of extinction. Extinction as you probably know it, in which the species just dies out, and "Pseudoextinction" in which the species dies out, but in doing so has given rise to an entirely new species, either through evolution or mass breeding with a compatible species.

We know that Hylians and Zonai were sexually compatible, as Rauru; a Zonai, married Sonia; a Hylian, and started what would become the Hyrule royal family. Though never seen in game, they have surely reproduced by the time Zelda is sent back in time, as she is their descendant, both of their unique magical abilities, light and time, residing within her.

Another potential example of Zonai/non-zonai breeding is the nameless ancient hero, who appears to be Zonai, but his unique Zonai features are somewhat diminished, even lacking the Zonai's third eye entiely.

Oh yeah, Zonais have 3 eyes. Forgot to mention that. Its actually pretty important. The Zonai certainly think it is. The Zonai 3rd eye is very prominent in their artwork and fashion, and in armor and clothing made by Zonai to be worn by non-zonai, importance is given to this region of the head

In fact, when Ganondorf obtains a sage's stone, he places it on his forehead, possibly to mark himself as an equal to the Zonai, a people who the land dwellers once saw as gods. But getting back to the subject at hand here... What if the Hyrulean royals and the nameless ancient hero aren't the only examples of Zonai/Hylian interbreeding?

Here we see Rauru, a pure-blooded Zonai male His hair is naturally white, and he has a 3rd eye in the middle of his forehead. The eye is adorned with gold around the edges of the eyelid. When opened, and couple with the marking on the ridge of his nose, the 3rd eye takes on a very familiar appearance

Do you see it?

Here let me just...

Do you see it now?

I don't believe that the Zonai returned to their own world. I don't believe that all but two of them got sick and kicked all their buckets. I believe that the Zonai interbred with local Hylians to the point that the Zonai themselves, who likely already had a smaller population than the Hylians, vanished, and after further generations of breeding with more pure-blood Hylians, a new type of Hylian almost completely lacking Zonai features rose up in their place, co-existing with regular Hylians. I believe that group to be none other than...

The Sheikah. The importance placed on their bizarre eye symbol. The way their leaders wear that symbol in the center of their foreheads, representing a 3rd eye, which we now know is a literal trait of Zonai. Their penchant for advanced technology. The naturally white hair from birth, and the unusually long life spans despite being classified as Hylians*. I believe strongly that the Sheikah are the closest living descendants of the Zonai. This could also explain why the Sheikah are so dedicated to the Hyrulean royal family, because at its deepest roots, the royal family is as much Zonai as it is Hylian.

*In character logs, Sheikah are listed as "Hylian (Sheikah)" indicating that they're an ethnic group and not a separate race.

[drunkenskunk]

Did you name your mech after an old Texas soda that you can only find in Texas and like two other states near it????

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Big_Red_(soft_drink)

As it happens: no! There are two reasons for the name.

Reason 1: Watsonian

The "official" name (or at least as much as anyone remembers) is R4GE MACHINE, because the serial number starts with R4, and it is a GMS Everest. However, "Big Red" is what everyone calls the mech, because it is big and chunky for a size 1, and it is covered in a billion different shades of red paint. The reason it's so big and chunky is because it used to be a Sagarmatha when it was built midway through the Hercynian Crisis, and, due to necessity, had to be downgraded to a smaller chassis after the Union Civil War.

(I need to update these sprites. I never got around to coloring them properly, except for the one red pixel for the optics, and I still need to add the Hunchback boombox on the right shoulder that houses the Leviathan heavy assault cannon.)

There is also a COMP/CON unit within the mech that calls itself RED. It's been online for the entire length of the mechs existence, and has embedded itself so thoroughly in the system hardware that it is impossible to get rid of it, no matter how many parts are replaced. The "personality" of this COMP/CON can be summarized "What if BT-7274, but he just kept losing pilots after Lastimosa?"

<<PROTOCOL 3: PROTECT THE PILOT>>

It is currently unknown - both in universe and otherwise - if there is any genuine paracausal tech hidden somewhere in the guts of Big Red, and that's why the COMP/CON is Like That... or maybe this is just what happens to what should be a non-sapient computer program when you keep it online for close to 500 years.

Reason 2: Doylist

Red is an old character of mine that I adapted into a mech for this Lancer game. Sort of. The mech has become something significantly different than the original character, because the reason for the COMP/CON's aggression is a version of robot PTSD: he has lost so many pilots over the years, and is determined not to lose another.

The original Red, however, is... well, take a look.

Red - at least, the original iteration of the character - was something I made when I was a very angry teenager. And I think it shows.

Red is like if the chaos god Khorne and the eldar's Kaela Mensha Kaine from Warhammer hatefucked and had an equally hateful baby. Red is a creature of unfiltered aggression. It is destructive rage manifest. It hates everything and everyone, and will not be satisfied until everything it hates is gone. Which is everything. The is no reason or justification or meaning for this hatred, and nothing to explain why it butchers and kills and destroys and murders its way across the stars; it simply IS.

And it cannot be contained.

That wedge-shaped hunk of metal on its head is not armor: it is all that remains of the last prison built in a desperate effort to stop its rampage. Red could get rid of the hunk of metal obscuring its vision at any time, but deliberately chooses to keep it in place as a cruel mockery of any and all who stand against it.

Two different starting points, two radically different stories, two different "individuals," but still technically the same character. At least, as far as I'm concerned.

I do this kind of thing all the time. Or... y'know, I did, back when my hands worked regularly. I make a character, turn them into a base template "starting point," and then slowly rework them into a new iteration, to fit whatever purpose I need to suit whatever setting I put them in.

So no, Big Red is not named after a soda lol

[chaifootsteps]

sarcastic productions did a vid recently about this thing called Tone Armor and it explains something I've had issues with in HB but struggled to articulate

so Tone Armor is, to simplify it (but I do recommend the vid) what the audience understands the stakes of the show to be. I.e. in a Loony Tunes short no one expects a character to be seriously hurt falling off a cliff, getting shot in the face, getting a piano dropped on them, etc. It's kind of part of suspension of disbelief - some shows exploit tone armor by having an early twist that goes against the conventions of the genre. The twist in Madoka Magica ep3 works entirely off this - if you've seen a lot of magical girl shows like Sailor Moon and Cardcaptors you're used to their stakes and you don't expect anyone to really die. In ep3, someone really dies.

And that's a big problem I have with HB - it can't keep its stakes or tone consistent to save its life. In Harvest Moon, Stella hiring Striker to kill Stolas is played like a dark comedy joke. We're supposed to take it like a dramatic beat but also a kind of wacky demon thing. But then The Circus drastically shifts the tone and expects us to treat Stolas and Stella as a straight example of domestic violence - which they do by having her try to slap him, something which is much less violent than the hit she's already ordered on him episodes before. They've already had Stella escalate to the end point most abusers get to, played it as a joke, and they want to turn around and demand the audience instead take it seriously instead of treating it like just a thing demons do? It was already shaky ground in ep5 whether we should judge Stella for ordering a hit given that the premise of the show used to be about imps running an assasination business, and their targets used to be in Hell!

The show also can't make up its mind whether the audience should be worried about the characters being in real danger at any moment in time. Western Energy is the absolute nadir for this - one minute Stolas is dodging holy bullets like he knows he's in danger, the next he's calling Blitzo and speaking with no more urgency than he did when he hired him as a bodyguard in Loo Loo Land (and the episode seems to expect us to blame Blitzo for not dropping everything to help him? Why wasn't Stolas screaming in terror on the phone then???). Worse, when he gets cut off Stolas says out loud 'am I in danger right now?' like he wasn't just tied up on the back of a horse bound with blessed rope. What in gods name happened to his intelligence in this episode?

Then it's right back to wacky hijinks right as the tone was starting to shift with the Striker song from the imp trio and Stolas is still making jokes ('how does one get their own theme song?') until the episode then decides it's going to be serious and act like the audience should be worried Stolas could die. Besides the fact Viv was never going to kill her Creator's Pet, it is way too late to demand an audience buy into this plot line on a dramatic level. To make it worse half the fight scene is scored with a bubblegum pop song on the radio and it keeps cutting to the much lower stakes Blitzo trying to get Loona to take her shot, like it makes any sense at all to cross cut between the two! That episode is absolute garbage imo and I have no idea why it ended up the way it did outside of Viv probably insisting there needed to be a plot device that would render Stolas helpless (which begs the question how Striker hasn't managed to finish off half of Hell's nobles by now if he has blessed rope or at least Stolas, given he's also dumb enough not to bother using his eye powers or his demonic form earlier - the power levels in this show are also massively inconsistent)

And then to put the cherry on a very bad cake Blitzo asks 'he can get hurt?' like he didn't already know blessed weapons exist and he didn't already fight Striker for trying to kill Stolas with one of them (which he should have let him do to spare us all the badness of this never-ending plotline)

Extremely good point.

Tone armor is definitely a thing, and Viv's problem is that she wants it to be both ways. She wants this show to be Looney Tunes and Madoka, and she wants to alternate back and forth between the two whenever she pleases, and when her audience inevitably complains or is confused, to blame them.

And that's not how this works.

[andreal831]

What do you think of heretics?

I prefer supernatural shows that have a closed world, meaning they have set rules and don't deviate from this. TVD started very closed with just the three supernatural creatures: vampires, werewolves, and witches. It's also why I couldn't get into Legacies because they kept introducing new creatures. It removes any stakes or logic when they do that.

That being said, I really enjoyed the heretics.

They still technically played by the same rules. We always knew there were different types of witches who draw their magic from different elements. So introducing witches who have to draw their magic from others was so interesting. It actually makes them weaker witches since they have to rely on draining magic from others, however, when combined with vampires, it makes them nearly unstoppable.

Witches can take down vampires so easily. The only advantage vampires have is that they are quicker and can use the element of surprise. Heretics eliminate this since they can be just as fast. It was a nice change of pace in TVD to watch the MF Gang go up against enemies they couldn't beat since they typically had so much plot armor. Like come on, how did they survive the Mikaelsons??

I will say, you can easily push back on the logic of it all, the "loophole" which allows siphoner to maintain their magic. But since we know from Bonnie's mom that it felt like she was cut off from nature, which is where other witches derive their magic, and since turning into a vampire gives siphoners constant access, I can buy the loophole.

I do find it hard to believe that Valerie was the first ever heretic. Vampires had existed for 800 years at that point. You're telling me in 800 years, no siphoner witch had ever been turned into a vampire?

I also found it ridiculous that Valerie just disappeared and never made a reappearance, even in Legacies. She was the only known living siphoner, which could have helped Lizzie or could have taken the Hollow from Hope instead of letting children do it. I also feel like Hayley said she found a Siphoner witch to take the cure from Freya in the beginning of Season 4, which would have had to be Valerie, yet they didn't explain that further.

But as a whole I enjoyed the storyline. There were parts that definitely could have been written better, but the characters were interesting and made you root for them at times even when they opposed the main characters.

Thanks for the ask!

[fuedalreesespieces]

one of their downtimes in the present after school, kagome braids inuyasha's hair (twins, french, dutch, etc.) while they watch magical girl anime. inuyasha is surprisingly into it (the anime and having his hair played with)

oh, you are so right about this.

.

.

.

"So he's the other guy?"

Kagome's fingers raked through his hair, parting it in two. He had no idea what she was doing, but it felt nice. So nice, in fact, that his attention was starting to wane from the television screen in front of him, if that was possible.

"Sort-of," Kagome amended, bringing a comb to the right side of his hair. Silver locks spilled down his shoulders, brushing against the enormous bowl of potato chips they shared. "He's kinda like a vessel for him, but he doesn't know it."

"Geez," Inuyasha grumbled. "All that power and he doesn't even know it exists."

Kagome let out an airy laugh. On screen, the boy called Yukito transformed into Yue. The bright colors fascinated him just as much as the feeling of Kagome's hands carding through his hair. He didn't quite get the concept of animation until she made him an example and even then, that simple jumping ball she'd created was leagues away from...whatever this was.

How did this even get on the screen, anyway? He'd suspected there was someone trapped in the back, but the box was much too tiny for even a kit like Shippo, and it was all clogged up with tangled wires. She'd explained the broadcasting system to him, but he still didn't understand how waves could translate to pictures. Eventually he'd given up on working out the concept, and his confusion never kept him from settling under her gentle hands and letting the story unfold in front of them.

She'd called it anime, a category for the style of art and animation used in the show they were watching, and Inuyasha had to admit it was wildly entertaining. Convoluted plots be damned, the fights were terribly engaging. Sota had told him that the sort of shows Kagome dragged him into were called magical girl anime, and which thereafter prompted a giggle from the younger boy. Inuyasha didn't quite get the joke, if there was one to be had. The way he saw it, the magical girls were just like the metal golems ("Mechs," Sota had corrected him) in the things Sota liked to watch - albeit better dressed.

On screen, Yue spoke, voice eerily cold compared to his counterpart. A chill ran down Inuyasha's spine. "He looks like Sesshomaru," he muttered.

Kagome finished one his braids and peered over his ears, her chin digging into his shoulder as she leaned in to see what she'd missed. "You know...I haven't really thought about it, but he sort of does. Minus the angel wings, of course." At Inuyasha's bark of laughter, she inched closer and smirked. "Think he'd make a good magical girl?"

An image of Sesshomaru wearing a skirt seemed to enter their minds at the same time, and upon making eye contact, they both collapsed in a fit of laughter. "Evil," he said between breaths, "absolutely fuckin' evil, what you just said."

"I was merely asking a question," she said innocently, her grin wicked. "But now that I think about it, I think you'd fit in better than him."

"Me?" he said incredulously.

"Why not? You've got a weapon-"

"A massive sword, not a magic wand-"

"-transformations-"

"One of 'em is useless and the other kills people-"

"You are not useless," she said immediately. "You're wonderful just as you are."

He was thankful the room was dark. "Kagome-"

"All you really need," she said, "is a change of clothes. Have you ever even been out of the Fire Rat?"

He scoffed. "Why should I? It's my armor. Why, you suggestin' I wear your clothes?" His attention returned to the television, where Yue was drawing an arrow back, but Kagome's ridiculous smile quickly emerged in his vision. She'd finished his hair and had come to sit beside him, fiddling with one of the two braids she'd done.

"Well...I do have an old school uniform-"

"No."

"Oh, come on, Inuyasha! Please?"

"I'm not wearing one of your skirts!" he shouted, face as bright as a plucked tomato.

"But I just finished your hair!"

"And what the hell does that have to do with it?"

"You would look good, I promise!" she assured. "Nobody's around."

"Your entire family is in the house, Kagome."

"And I'm sure they would all support your decision to finally be the magical girl you were born to be."

He rolled his eyes and twisted his head so she couldn't tempt him with that smile of hers. "You're crazy."

She slipped into his view and batted her eyelashes. "For me?"

"Woman, if you don't-"

"Please, Inuyasha?"

He told himself not to look. Her voice alone couldn't tempt him. He thought of happy things in his mind, like ramen, or cooked steak, but the image of her sad, droopy eyes kept tainting the images, and when he eventually cracked one eye open, she was still kneeling in front of him, hands clasped and wide, grey eyes lit up like silver by the artificial light of the television. The decision to keep staring at her, like a stubborn fool, damned him. She had him wrapped around her finger the second he chose not to close his eyes - or perhaps he'd been doomed to agree from the start.

Either way, all paths lead to him wearing the skirt.

"Oh my god," Kagome whispered. "Oh my god."

"Shut up," he snapped. The waistline was too tight, but he'd somehow managed it. The outfit he wore was simply a spare uniform she had stashed away in case hers was ripped up in the feudal realm, but she insisted that plenty magical girls wore similar clothing (did the schools purposefully let their girls dress up as magical girls?) At her request, he'd worn a pair of elbow length gloves, boots, and "Happy?"

"Oh, Inuyasha," she sighed, and his face turned another shade of red. "You have no idea."

[luckbealincoln]

Best Kept Secret

chapter eighteen : portrait of a man

THIS SERIES HAS BEEN MOVED AND RE-UPLOADED TO ANOTHER ACCOUNT. WHICH CAN BE FOUND HERE. THIS POST STILL EXISTS AS AN ARCHIVE BUT THIS ACCOUNT IS NO LONGER ACTIVE!!

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 5.4k

summary : the mandalorian and reader do some reading

warnings, etc. : language, mentions of sex

It’s deliciously warm when you wake. You can feel his heartbeat and you can feel the soft traces of sunlight dancing along your back. You stretch in his arms slightly but freeze up as you feel him nuzzle his chin into your hair, planting a kiss against your hairline. 

His helmet is still off.

And the room is completely illuminated by the sunrise. 

He seems to sense your hesitancy and after some adjustment his face is concealed once more as you gaze up at him.

“Sorry sarad, I must have fallen asleep without it on.” His voice is gravelly and thick with sleep as he looks down at you. He’s acting like it wouldn’t be the end of the world if you accidentally saw.

 It might very well be.

You know his creed is precious to him, even if he says he is an apostate. You don’t want him to break it just for you and end up regretting it later.

“I don’t want to see until I’m allowed to.” That doesn’t really make sense and you know it. “Will I ever be allowed to? How does that work?” He sits up as you speak, stretching his arms above his head.

“I’ll explain it another time, right now I need to get you back to your room before someone realizes you're gone.” He’s crawled to the edge of the bed and he’s already pulling his boots on.

Oh yeah. 

It was easy to fall into a fantasy of staying here with him. For a moment there you had completely forgotten that you were married, and expected in other places. You stand looking for your dress as he attaches his armor. 

“Don’t change yet, it’ll be easier to sneak you back in if you aren’t wearing a shimmery gown.” He’s so quick with it, in the time it takes you to even find your gown he’s completely done getting ready. “Do you have everything?” He turns to face you as he takes the dress from you and throws it over his arm. 

Your eyes dart to the shelf. 

Your knife is up there. 

He chuckles when he catches your line of sight.

“Not gonna happen, princess. Let’s go.” He takes your hand and hastily drags you out of the cabin. In the morning light you can see what he had been carrying you over last night.

The cabin was built partially on top of the lake. It must be a pain having to carefully step over all of the water but he doesn’t seem to mind as he scoops you into his arms and looks to be contemplating something.

“Is your bedroom window unlocked?”

That’s an odd question. But you know it is, you’re several floors up so you never lock it.

“Yes, why?” 

“No reason.” You can hear a grin on his face. 

He starts walking, not really caring if he steps into the water as he carries you towards the castle. Once you're through the gardens and past the forest trail he adjusts his cowl to cover your face. You rest your head against his chest as he makes his way towards what you assume to be the servant's entrance. But you never hear a door open, instead he leans down to whisper to you.

“Keep your eyes closed.”

Is he about to take off his helmet in broad daylight?

You don’t get a chance to question it as you shut your eyes and you feel the cowl ripped from your face, there’s an unfamiliar rush of air against your skin and the sound of a click and a creak. 

“You can open them now.” He whispers again, you aren’t sure what you expect to see when you open your eyes but it certainly isn’t him standing on the outside of your window sill, balancing you in his arms.

You know immediately that it’s a mistake as you look down and find yourself several stories off the ground. 

“Maker! What is wrong with you!” You cling to him tighter but he simply laughs as he peels you off of him to set you inside. 

“Sorry, hand me your clothes.” There’s a sudden urgency in his voice that keeps you from arguing, you strip to your undergarments and toss him the things you borrowed, he doesn’t hesitate to throw your dress onto the floor. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.” You’re left staring dumbfounded as he jumps off the ledge at the same moment your door swings open and Elaine’s voice fills the room.

“I’m telling you, we don’t have to knock, she isn’t here, we’ll just wait for h-“ She stops and stares at you with wide eyes and your face gets hot at the implications of her words. 

“Good morning girls.” You stammer out as they both look surprised to see you.

“Apologies for not knocking my lady.” Elaine bows as she says it, cocking an eyebrow in your direction but you don’t give her a reaction as you simply walk to the mirror to be prepped. 

They seem relieved that you don’t have anything to say and you’re relieved that Elaine doesn’t press further as they begin to dress you. The gown Lysa chooses for today is a soft gray color, the fabric shimmers in the light and it sort of reminds you of the Mandalorian’s armor. 

Nobody seems to have anything to say to each other this morning but you truly don’t mind. In a few minutes you’ll get to see him again. 

And things are okay now. 

Right?

You’ve established a mutual want. 

But what does that mean?

Shit.

You hadn’t really talked about that. But that shouldn’t matter, he had practically confessed his love, he had given you his name. 

You need to talk about it.

But he never wants to talk about it.

This time has to be different though, things are good.

It has to be different.

You don’t even realize they’ve finished until Elaine clears her throat. 

“Kriff, sorry, thank you girls, you’ve done wonderful work as always.” It’s true. As you look up at yourself in the mirror to take in another amazing job done by them. You can’t even tell that you were being carried through the forest less than an hour ago.

“Thank you, my lady, shoes?” Lysa holds up a pair of flats and you nod, taking a seat at the vanity and hiking your skirt up a bit.

Shit.

You’re still wearing his socks. 

In your rush you must have forgotten about them. 

She stares for only a moment, her eyes darting up to your face before she removes them, slipping on your flats. You can tell by the way her eyebrows raise ever so slightly that she sees the dirt on the soles of your feet from your barefoot walk in the gardens last night, but thankfully she says nothing. After a beat of silence you cough awkwardly. 

“Thank you girls, that will be all.” They nod as they both take their leave. You give them time to make their way down the hall before you grab your journal and some pens, as you throw the door open he’s there just like always. He doesn’t look like someone who had flown you up to your window this morning, he looks exactly the same as always. There’s no sense in concealing the smile on your face as you stare at him.

“Library?” You ask as he nods, you begin your trek and he still stands behind you but closer than ever before, just a step or two back. “Can we talk today?”

“Of course, princess.” A wave of relief washes over you as he says it. This might be the first time he’s ever had a positive reaction to that question. You walk in a happy silence until you arrive. Today you do not hesitate to sit in the nook, no longer haunted by the memories of what’s transpired there. 

He stands sort of bashfully, looking at you and then at a few chairs nearby. 

This is why you need to talk.

It’s things like this, your relationship is so vaguely defined and in the cold light of day, just Din, doesn’t know where to sit. 

You scootch over a bit and pat the space next to you.

“Sit with me?” You say softly to hopefully ease the anxiety that is apparent in his body language. He relaxes a bit as he takes a seat next to you, you fit like puzzle pieces, like the nook was made for the two of you to sit comfortably.

It’s an added bonus that it’s far enough into the shelves that you’ll hear anyone coming before they see you. 

He leans back against the glass as you open your journal, uncapping a pen and lazily doodling. You can feel his gaze on the pages but you don’t mind.

“What did you want to talk about mesh’la?” He murmurs as he begins to trace his fingers along your back, drawing shapes into the fabric of your dress.

It shocks you a bit.

His blatant affection. 

Nothing could have prepared you for him to act like this in the daylight. 

Of course he had humored you in the markets, and when you had been “together” he had always been kind but now his voice had a certain devotion to it, and he touched you like he needed to do it to stay grounded. 

He almost seems… clingy.

It makes your heart flutter. 

“I guess I just wanted to talk about this,” You gesture at him with the pen. “us.” 

He hums softly in agreement. 

“Okay, what about us?” He tugs gently at one of the ribbons on your corset, not hard enough to pull it loose, just hard enough to grab your attention. You shoot a glare at him, there’s no actual fire behind it.

“I thought you said you’d be good?”

“And you said I could touch you a little.” As he says it you roll your eyes before turning back to your drawings. You’ve been sketching the same curved line. The hook of his nose you had felt last night. If he recognizes it he doesn’t say anything. 

“Fine. What exactly are we?” He resumes his tracing as you say it, it feels like a juvenile question, it’s what you would always ask your boyfriends back on Hoth after a few weeks of screwing around, but he doesn’t seem bothered by it.

“What was it you called me in the gardens? Your lover? I could be that if that’s what you’d like me to be.” His fingers have moved to your shoulders now, the shapes on your pages have turned into rough outlines of what you remember his jaw is shaped like.

Lover feels too impersonal.

This is more than that. 

He certainly isn’t your boyfriend, can you even have a boyfriend? Afterall you already have a husband. 

Would Din want to be your husband someday?

Could Din be your husband someday? Kodo certainly wouldn’t just let you leave, the trade deals your family so desperately needed would be useless if you did. Is it too soon to be thinking such a thing? You have only just truly become emotionally involved but also you’ve spent every waking moment with him for several weeks at this point. And you’ve had sex. 

Maker, why does this have to be so confusing?

“Is there maybe a Mando’a word for what we are?” You turn to look at him again.

He starts to say something but then he stops, seemingly changing his mind.

“How about kar’ta?” 

“Kar’ta? What’s that mean?” You like the way the word feels in your mouth. His knuckles are dragging against your arm now. 

“It means heart. You would be my heart and I would be yours.” His voice is warm and it feels like you’re sinking into his touches. 

His heart. 

You like that.

“My Kar’ta.” You say, looking down at your drawings, you have several mixed and matched faces, none of which seem to look right, you hold them up for him to see. “Do any of these look correct?” 

He points to the one of the bottom left, the eyes are lopsided. 

“That ones the closest, other than the eyes, none of the eyes are right.” You sigh, you already knew he would say that.

“They never are.” You flip the page and start drawing pairs of eyes. You’re silent for a few minutes, he continues tracing shapes into your back and you continue drawing, you eventually realize he’s mimicking your sketches. 

You know what you want to tell him. It’s a strange pivot in conversation but you need him to know. 

Your next words force themselves from your mouth. “I don’t love Kodo, I don’t even like him.” His movements stop, only for a second before continuing. 

“I would hope not, I don’t know if you noticed but he’s a bit of a monster.” 

“I know, I just wanted to say it. I just- I mean, I don’t think of myself as married to him, it’s more a title than anything else.” You hesitate for a moment. “And we don’t have sex. In case you were wondering.” You haven’t thought about that fact in a while.

Someday Kodo will want heirs. 

It makes you shudder a bit.

Maybe Din will get you out of here before that happens. 

He senses the tension you’re suddenly plagued with and he switches to just rubbing gentle circles against your back. 

“Okay.” He speaks so quietly now. 

“I don’t ever want to have sex with him.” You whisper, mostly to yourself. 

It had always been an inevitable thing. A duty you had to fulfill. But that was before you knew who he was. Before you knew you had married a monster. And that was before Din, before your kar’ta. 

“You don’t have to. I promise.”His voice is soothing but it does nothing to put you at ease.

It’s a promise he can’t keep.

But you don’t want to linger on this any longer so you nod, much to your chagrin he senses your hesitancy as he sits up. 

“Hey, I mean it. If he so much as touches you again, I swear it will be the last time.” 

“You can’t guarantee that Din.” He’s taking your sketchbook from you, setting it aside before holding your hands in his. 

“He isn’t going to touch you. Ever again. I never should have let him in the first place.” His grip on your hand tightens ever so slightly as he recalls the memory, you can’t help but frown.

“I’m glad you let him, you wouldn’t be here right now if you hadn’t.” 

That makes him go quiet. 

You both know you’re right, if he had laid a finger on Kodo he would at the very least have been fired. Worst case scenario he’d be dead.

“He won’t touch you again.” He sounds firmer this time. “I’m sworn to you. No one gets to touch you unless you want them to, not even me.” 

You want to believe that he could stop Kodo. That he could stop all six of his battle droids. It’ll be easier if you just let yourself believe it. 

So for now you do. 

You drop his hands and rest your head on his shoulder. 

“Okay.” You mumble. 

“Okay.” He tilts his helmet slightly to rest against your head.

You reach around to grab your book back. Opening to the page with the eyes. 

“Which ones are right?” You point around the page. He analyzes them for a bit before taking the pen again, scribbling until he’s drawn messy but identifiable eyes. 

“Like this.”

His drawing is crude but the eyes are nice. You carefully tear the outline of them out before placing them over the other drawing he had pointed out. 

It almost looks right. 

It almost suits the person you know. 

He lets you stay leaning on his shoulder so you don’t bother moving as you flip to an empty page. You think for a few moments on what to draw. 

The tiny toothbrush. 

You think of the sketch of mismatched parts you now have of him and what you’ve been able to feel out and you subconsciously start drawing a child. 

You give him Din’s nose, and dark curls. You don’t bother trying to copy his eyes, opting to instead give the little boy wide dark eyes. You scribble out several different versions of the child you’ve made up as he watches silently. 

Eventually you stop and just stare at the page full of little faces staring up at you. 

Does this boy exist somewhere out there?

It sort of seems that way, when you look at all the pieces of Din that don’t seem to make sense. The toothbrush, he had mentioned a kid at one point but hadn’t said much about it and now you know that he willingly showed his face to someone. Was it his child? Why did he have to say goodbye to his own child?

Can you imagine Din being a father? When you think of how well he takes care of himself it makes you worry a bit for any child in his care but then you think of how well he takes care of you.

Selflessly. 

He’s probably a good father. That must be where his protective nature comes from. 

His laughter breaks you out of your trance and he points to one of the drawings, the boy in that one has the largest eyes, and the pupils take up nearly the entirety of them.

“You got his eyes right in that one.” He says as he chuckles. 

“What?” You stammer out.

His eyes. 

“I assume you’re trying to figure out who he is? None of these are even close, but those eyes, those are his.” 

Of course he knew what you were doing, nothing got past him. 

You wait for more but that’s all he gives you.

You can wait longer, until he’s ready to talk about it. Based on the way he sighs you think that moment might be right now but he says something else instead.

“I don’t think I’ve apologized yet for what I said. Truly apologize.” You close the journal on your own this time before setting it down. 

He’s talking about what he said.

“I was… bored. You were entertainment.”

He knows you haven’t simply forgotten about it. Afterall, how could you? 

“It doesn’t excuse what I did, but I didn’t mean a word of it.”

You want to believe him terribly, but that nagging feeling in the back of your mind is persistent. A reminder that any moment he could decide to stop being Din, and go back to being nothing more than your shadow. 

“Why did you say it then?” 

You don’t want to have this conversation either. The last thing you want to do is relive those moments but you aren’t an idiot, your insecurities will eventually bubble up, it’s better to take care of this now before it grows into resentment. He’s leaning back again, out of your peripherals. 

“I meant it, when I said that I ache.” Is he sitting like that so you can’t look at him? “None of what I’m about to say is a good enough reason to explain my actions, nothing ever could be. You control my every thought and decision, sarad. I suppose I just thought that it would be best if you hated me, that it would make the pain dull, instead it only served to make me realize that I cannot live without you.”

That’s one hell of a proclamation.

“You wanted me to hate you?” As you say it you feel Beskar rest against the back of your shoulder. 

“For a while. It seemed like the least painful option. I deserved- deserve, your loathing. At first for feeling the way I did towards a married woman, a woman I was supposed to be protecting and instead was picturing naked.”

Hot. It’s hot in the library. It hasn’t been hot in the library for some time. 

“And then I saw the two of you together. And I knew immediately that you did not feel an ounce of love for that thing you were forced to wed. At that point I simply needed you to hate me to soothe the ache that signified that you could never be mine.” He sighs, and there’s a moment of hesitation before you hear the hiss of air you’re becoming all too familiar with. You aren’t exactly sure what you expect, it definitely isn’t the feeling of several kisses being peppered along the curve of your shoulder but you certainly aren’t going to complain about it. “I did not know weakness before I met you, you have turned me from a man made of steel to one of glass.” His voice rings clear and unfiltered throughout the room. 

He plants another kiss into your hair, there aren’t any traces of lust behind the action, just a pure adoration, he brushes a bit of your hair out of the way and for a moment you feel the bridge of his nose press against the back of your neck before he places one final, chaste kiss against your spine. When he speaks again his voice is modulated once more.

“I don’t want your forgiveness, I certainly haven’t earned it.” He finally leans forward so he’s back in your field of vision. “But I will. Someday I will be worthy of you, I promise.”

He already is. He always has been.

Will you ever get used to this? His genuine affections? It takes your breath away more than the sex did, the way he talks about you like you are not a woman, but a deity. The way he removes his helmet as if it doesn’t mean anything, just so he can feel you against his lips. 

There’s no sense in telling him that’s all you needed to hear. You know him, he won’t accept that, he’s far too stubborn. So instead you opt to make things more lighthearted.

“How do you plan to make it up to me, my kar’ta?” As you say it you can visibly see some of the stress leave his body, thank the gods. 

“I have plenty of ideas.” The way he says it makes your heart flutter and you nearly forget that he’s promised not to fuck you. “I was thinking I could take you to the library tomorrow.” You’d be lying if you said that didn’t sort of kill your buzz, considering where you’re currently sitting but he senses your reluctance and chuckles. “The big one, in the city, cyar’ika.”

“Oh.” You can’t help but laugh along with him now. “You know, you’re getting better at talking, about the important stuff that is.” You give him a smile.

“It’s easier when you don’t look at me.” He says it a bit abashedly.

“Why is that?”

“Before you I never felt like someone could see my face. Yet everytime you look at me it’s like I’m not wearing a helmet at all, like you’re staring right at me.” He takes your hand and brings your fingers to the bottom of the helmet, tilting his head down slightly so you can feel his lips as he kisses the pads of your fingers before withdrawing them.

Maker.

Yeah, you’re never gonna get used to that. 

Eventually he gets up to find some books, bringing you a mystery romance novel, you wouldn’t normally pick it for yourself but the cover art is interesting enough to draw you in, he appears to have some kind of maintenance guide on ship engines, you have no idea how he reads that kind of thing. As he hands you the books he motions for you to stand, when you do so he sits in the nook horizontally, with his feet up on the cushions, his back leaning against one of the surrounding shelves, motioning for you to sit between his legs. 

You want to protest that it won’t be comfortable for him but your resolve simply isn’t strong enough to resist as you crawl between his thighs, your back resting against his chest as you hand his literature to him. The nook isn’t really built for two people to sit like this, it’s a bit cramped but you couldn’t be more comfortable, you want to make sure he’s okay with this position but he’s already got his book open, held in one outstretched hand so you simply open yours, placing it on your bent knees. 

It’s surprisingly good. You’ve always had a preference for campy, over the top romance books. The sort of books with shirtless men riding horses on the front. The more ridiculous the better. But you’re completely absorbed by the story you find yourself in, gasping every so often at the reveals. 

It’s shocking once you realize you’ve already made it to the last chapter, you had completely forgotten you were lying against Din until you turn and see that he must have finished his book at some point because now he’s reading yours over your shoulder.

“Can we finish this before I take you to get your dinner?” He mumbles, leaning forward slightly.

There is a peace to this situation that you’re sure you’ve never known.

This is the kind of life you could have with him.

You can’t seem to find the words to respond, and the lump in your throat won’t let you make something up so you nod, and you lean your head back against his chest and continue where you left off. 

You like the ending. Much to your surprise the story ended happily, you had even teared up a bit when you realized everything was going to work out for the love interests. You might let him pick books for you more often, as long as he lets you find him something less boring to read. There has to be at least one exciting book about ships in here. 

If there isn’t, you’ll find him one tomorrow when you go to the city library. 

He sits up, which of course means you also sit up. He lets you stand first, your legs are stiff from being in the same position for hours but you find your footing quickly. He seems to be having no issues as he’s putting the books back. 

You’re waiting for him to take your hand so you can fetch dinner, the two of you standing in silence for a moment, when it hits you, you feel like an idiot. 

He isn’t going to take your hand. 

Because you’re leaving the library and someone could see. 

You plaster on a strained smile before leaving, thankfully he says nothing about your hesitation as you begin walking towards the kitchens. 

Leo is of course waiting for you by the entrance. (You’ve come to accept that he’s simply everywhere at this point.) And you do the same thing you always do, he asks what you’d like to eat, you tell him whatever they’ve cooked, he insists you can request anything you’d like, you insist you’d like what they’ve cooked. 

The only difference this time is that you ask for seconds.

He disappears in a huff before swiftly returning with several sealed dishes, as always he hands them to Mando and not you. 

✩

The two of you return to your chambers and when he steps inside you lock the door behind you.

“Sit.” You say it as sternly as possible. Like it’s an order. He sets the food on the floor before sitting with his legs crossed next to it. “You’re gonna eat, this is non-negotiable.” 

He immediately begins to protest but you shush him.

“You don’t need to feed me anymore. I can take care of myself.” He starts trying to stand but you firmly plant your hands on his shoulders and push him back down.

“Clearly not, you didn’t eat once today, I’m sure of it.” You frown down at him.

“Neither did you.”

“That's because I was watching you! And now to make up for it I’m going to eat real food, not ration packs.”

He doesn’t budge, still staring at you blankly.

“Listen… if you do this, I’ll reward you.” You raise your eyebrows suggestively.

You hadn’t really planned to give in so soon but you’re only human, he had gotten you pretty fired up in the library today whether that was his intention or not. 

And you certainly aren’t going to say it, but you miss being with him in that way.

“Are you trying to bribe me with sex?” The disbelief in his voice is apparent, you ignore it, dividing up the food, making sure his portion is considerably larger, they always give you too much food anyway.

“Is it working?” You set the plate in front of him, batting your eyelashes innocently. He coughs nervously, leaning back.

“No. I don’t want sex to be a currency with you, I want you to want it.” His voice is strained and you can’t help but smirk. 

“That’s a shame, because you’re going to eat either way.” You stand, walking so you're behind him, sitting back to back, your plate in your lap. 

“That’s a wild assumption, princess.” His voice is still modulated so you know he hasn’t made any attempts to listen. 

“I thought you were trying to earn my forgiveness?” That shuts him up. He grumbles for a few moments before you hear a hiss and a clunk as he sets his helmet on the floor. “Thank you.”

“Don’t sound so smug, you can only use that reason so many times before I stop giving in.” He mumbles through a mouthful of food, it makes you grin. 

“Speaking of your road to redemption, can I ask you any questions I want now?” You swallow a bite as you say it.

“Sure, I’m not going to guarantee an answer, but sure.”

“What was on the flower, the one I gave you for your birthday?” He groans the moment you ask it.

“Please don’t make me say it, I know you know.” He sounds terribly embarrassed but you’re simply furrowing your brow in confusion. Are you supposed to know? You think on it for a few minutes, chewing thoughtfully before your eyes go wide.

“Was that a piece of my nightie that you ripped the first time we-“

“Yes.” 

Your face couldn’t possibly get any redder and your smile couldn’t possibly get any wider. 

“I didn’t take you for the sentimental type.” You can’t help but tease, he’s so rarely flustered in lighthearted moments like this.

“There are plenty of things you don’t know about me.” You hum softly at his response. “I’d like it if you did know them.” He always has to have the upperhand, he can never just let you tease him without leaving you breathless. 

“I’d like to know everything.” 

“I’d tell you everything.” He sounds so sincere. 

But he doesn’t sound ready.

“When you really want to.”  

He’s quiet, briefly, and then he reaches back to set his empty plate down next to you, you aren’t even halfway done with yours. You turn around as he stands, you didn’t hear him put his helmet back on but there it is. 

“It’s late princess, I need to go home.” 

There’s undeniably disappointment on your face as you stand, following him to the door. 

“You don’t want to stay? I’m pretty sure I owe you a reward.” You give him a hopeful smile and his glove covers your eyes, your heart is racing. 

There’s that wonderful hiss of air. It’s quickly becoming your favorite sound in the world. 

You’re practically vibrating with anticipation.

And then you feel a soft kiss on your forehead. 

In an instant the glove is gone and the helmet is back in place as if it had never moved. 

“Good night, sarad’ika.” You feel ridiculous as you pout at him. 

“You can’t be serious.”

He chuckles as he opens the door. 

“Are you really going to turn me down?”  You reach past him to try and close it again but he holds it open, still laughing. 

“Yes, I am. Tonight I am.” He’s got one foot out the door now.  

“Din… I’m giving you permission, I swear, it’s fine.” 

“I’m afraid it’s not gonna happen tonight, cyare”

For Maker’s sake you’re practically begging him. 

“Then when?” As you ask he leans forward, just a tiny bit.

“When you really want to.”  

And just like that he’s leaving, shutting the door behind him.

Cocky bastard.

tag list : dm or reply to be added!!

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[venturelovebot]

Bully!J*no because I'm madge she's still exists. Anyway it's vent writing, don't read if you're a J*no enjoyer. In which case idek how you're still following me at this point but we ball–

• "Aww, what's the matter, baby?"

• You walk up to them with a sad/angry face.

• You lean in and whisper what's upsetting you and they give you a kiss on the cheek.

• "It's okay. I promise. Just sharpen the broken end and you'll have two crayons!" They tell you.

• Teo looks over with a grimace on her face. Why in the world were you scribbling on a coloring page for children?

• She watches as you sit down at a table by yourself and continue violently scribbling while you kick your feet underneath the table.

• "Uhhh, anyway." She catches herself and continues her conversation with your caregiver, sneaking occasional glances in your direction in confusion.

• You grab the blue crayon next and began pressing it hard against the coloring page before it, too, snaps directly in half.

• Tears start forming in your eyes before you sniffle and wipe them away with your sleeves.

• "Ah– one second." They tell her.

• They approach you and sharpen both crayons in your sharpener before patting your back.

• Then they swoop in and give you a big hug, nuzzling your face, peppering it with kisses until you're giggling and happy.

• "You're doing such a good job!"

• Teo glances at the page again.

• It really did look like a child had done it– everything is colored outside the lines, even to the point that there was crayon wax on the table.

• What. The. Fuck.

• "I'll come check on you in a few minutes, okay?" They hold you tight and look at you with sparkling eyes.

• You nod enthusiastically and continue minding your own business.

• When Sloan approaches her again, she brings it up out of concern.

• "Are they not an adult? Why in the world are they acting like that?" She questions.

• Sloan explains everything to the best of their ability.

• "They're just trying to cope." They finish. "It's a lot healthier than what they used to do. Plus, it's pretty endearing."

• "That's... not healthy." She retorts.

• The two of them sit in silence for a moment, glancing back at you.

• "What's wrong with it? They're not hurting anyone." They start getting a little defensive over you.

• "I'm sorry but they need to grow up and face reality. Pretending to be a child doesn't help anyone. Especially not you. Why put up with it?" She replies.

• "I don't 'put up with it'. I love taking care of them." They remain calm for the time being. "They've already faced reality. This is an escape from it for a while– it's not a big deal, really."

• She's quiet again as she watches you from afar.

• How in the world did they choose you over her?

• The idea is infuriating.

• The competition she has is a sniffling, childish little crybaby?

• How? How?

• Sloan takes off in your direction again just as they had promised.

• The frustration grows into pure unbridled rage.

• She grabs her laser gun and– just out of sight– aims it towards your coloring page and the crayon your holding.

• She pulls the trigger.

• The laser instantly lights the paper on fire and burns your skin– causing you to yelp in surprise.

• "Oops." She whispers under her breath, smirking at her tiny victory.

• "What happened?" Angela speaks up from across the room. She rushes in with a cup of water she was drinking before pouring it on the small fire that had started.

• "Let me see..." She takes your hand and looks it over. Her glove glows a warm yellow for a moment before your wounds are healed near miraculously.

• "What do we say, pollito?" Sloan nudges you gently.

• "Thank you, Miss Doctor Ziegler!" You smile.

• She lightly laughs at your comment. "You're welcome, [Y/N]."

• They pat your head to comfort you further.

• "Hm. Brigitte was over here earlier, I wonder what she was using to polish her armor?" Angela wonders aloud. "Maybe that's what started a fire. I'll have to ask her later..."

• And in the corner, all alone, Teo seethes.

[laurellerual]

Harrenhal during the Long Night

A few days ago I did this survey where I asked you "Where will the great battle against the White Walkers take place?". 56% of voters chose "In the North, the Wall, Winterfell", but I disagree. Here I explain why I am part of the 41% who voted "In the Riverlands, Harrenal, the Gods eye, the Trident".

Why in the Riverlands?

Let's start with: I think Winterfell will be destroyed, and definitively rebuilt only at the end of the books. So the place where the victory against the White Walkers will take place will be the Riverlands.

The Gods eye is one of the most important places for the Old Gods and the Children of the forest, we know Howland has been there I think Bran will have to go, it's a place that will become relevant to the White Walkers storyline. And it's not the only place in the Riverlands closely connected with the faith of the Old Gods - indeed, we have seen more of them here than in the North. There are: High heart with its circle of weirwood and its woods witch, the Hollow Hill where one-eyed Beric sits surrounded by weirwood roots, Raventree Hall, and Harrenhal whose building seems cursed by the gods and has a godswood big like a forest.

The conflict against the White Walkers will have to be a major event, relevant in the history of the Seven Kingdoms, so there is no way it will only involve the first northernmost castles. What repercussions would such an event have on the plot? No one would believe that the North has been attacked by creatures that everyone thinks don't exist: it would be as if it hadn't happened. The undead army must reach to at least the center of Westeros. An interesting foreshadowing is found in Daenerys III ASOS:

That night she dreamt that she was Rhaegar, riding to the Trident. But she was mounted on a dragon, not a horse. When she saw the Usurper's rebel host across the river they were armored all in ice, but she bathed them in dragonfire and they melted away like dew and turned the Trident into a torrent. Some small part of her knew that she was dreaming, but another part exulted. This is how it was meant to be.

Why will Harrenhal be important?

If the above turns out to be true, this means that a significant part of the people who inhabit the North and the Riverlands will find themselves fleeing to take refuge behind the first available walls. And as it happens, in the Riverlands there is a castle of immense proportions, mostly abandoned.

If you haven't read the chapters in which Harrenhal appears in a while, I recommend you review its architecture on the wiki (read the sections 'Walls and Towers' and 'Misc'). And then you come here and tell me that an immense place, with walls that cannot be passed through, a big pit, a great hall with more than thirty hearth, hot baths, kitchens as big as the great hall of Winterfell, and many acres of wood within the walls doesn't seem like the perfect description of a place where hundreds of people can take refuge to survive the apocalypse.

Harrenhal has impassable walls unless you have a dragon. The reason it fell so many times is that it was abandoned. Until now, fighting for the castle has been a waste of money for all the lords who have passed it. No one had enough people to guard all the gates, run all the fires, etc… not even using prisoners of war as slaves would have been enough.

But if refugees from half of the Seven Kingdoms were to occupy it, we would see those huge empty halls fill with life for the first time in centuries. Finally this cyclopean construction would make sense: it would become one of the main citadels of humanity.

Thanks for reading. If you want to find out why the other day while brushing my teeth I was struck by the brilliant intuition that Arya Stark might be the Lady of Harrenhal during the Long Night keep following me.

[open-hangar]

Space Defense Lanzer Ep. 6

LUNARIAN MECHANICAL RECORDS

Μακάριοι οι Παρατηρητές

Prototype Lanzer Type-Artemis

Size: 18m, 51 tons

Power Output: ~800 MW/minute onboard, [REDACTED]

Pilots: 1 active pilot

Weaponry and abilities: Space flight, limited atmospheric flight, modular weaponry and armor. Limited onboard weaponry.

Etc.: Despite appearances, this is NOT to be confused with the MP Synth-OSi-equipped Lanzers, which share lineage with the Artemis. Changes to this Lanzer by anyone other than Lt. j.g. Truth MUST be approved before implementation.

Lieutenant Junior Grade Elysian Truth stood at attention before their mother, as all Lunarian soldiers are trained to do. This is a monumental occasion, as few receive a personal briefing from any one member of the council like this. Elysian felt honored, and was dressed in their finest black flight suit, white cloak, and rebreather mask. They stand at full attention, waiting for an “at ease” that never comes.

Councilwoman Resplendent Truth snaps her fingers, and the room grows dark as a map of what was once known as the continent of Africa extends across the wall behind her. It zooms into the southern half, and then it goes further until it’s just the southernmost peninsula. A striped zone surrounds Kwazulu LBZ to represent Siyanqoba’s anti-air coverage, along with a small flag on its very outer edge.

“Our long campaign pushing the Earthling savages back to their wasteland has proven effective. Our battleships stationed above the LBZ’s ensure that nothing leaves the atmosphere, but our spy scopes believe that they might have figured out how to make their own Lanzers, instead of just digging them up out of the ground.”

Even if Elysian’s face were visible, it would be difficult to gauge his reaction to this. It’s difficult to imagine the Earthlings with anything approaching real technology, but the idea of some of them putting up a decent fight was a little exciting.

“You’re going on a special assignment,” Councilwoman Truth explained. “We believe that they’re planning on testing whatever they’re making outside of their protected area as bait. You and the Type-Artemis are going in alone and taking that bait.”

Elysian’s hand shot up to their chest in salute. “I will track this machine down and annihilate it.”

But their mother wasn’t fast enough to interrupt them. “Unlikely. The Type-Artemis is good, real good, but the smart move from the savages’ point of view is to send a small army along with… whatever they have to extend their anti-air coverage. That’s why once you confirm this thing’s existence, you’ll tag the entire area for orbital bombardment and get out. The Artemis is too valuable to let you destroy it.”

Their mother’s lack of respect for their piloting ability is what really hurts Elysian. With Luna’s help, the lieutenant has racked up a higher kill count than any other Lunarian over the course of the campaign… The councilwoman picked up on this slight hesitation.

“I will stand no showboating or hotdogging. The Synth-OSi AI is without a doubt our most valuable battlefield asset. If anything, ANYTHING, happens to it…”

She marches directly towards her child, and rips Elysian’s rebreather off of their face as a violet haze bellows out of it, and holds it above her head. “We both know the consequences.”

The lieutenant does their best to remain stoic, but the symptoms start kicking in in the predictable manner. First, it becomes harder to breathe. Shallow at first, but slowly growing into something like an asthma attack. Then, their vision starts to blur. Colors start to disappear, and everything becomes blurry and wobbling. And lastly, his muscles start to go. Elysian fights it for as long as possible before their knees start to buckle, and their beet-red face bursts out in shallow wheezing. Resplendent returns the mask to its normal resting spot.

“Dismissed.”

—

“Trajectory proceeding as calculated. Opening heat vents. Heat shield not necessary. Entering lower atmosphere in 5 minutes, approaching landing site in 20. Any further requests, Lt. Truth?”

Luna’s voice wasn’t comforting to most, but to Elysian, it was the sound of their oldest friend. “Nope, proceed as planned. Bring up the most up-to-date aerial map of the landing site, I want to see if our new friend is waiting for us.”

A map flickers open on one edge of the panoramic hud surrounding the pilot’s seat, and Lt. Truth flicks one of their fingers to drag it closer to the front.. It shows a grassland sparsely populated by trees, and is updated once every couple of seconds or so. Sure enough, there’s exactly 1 mechanical object resembling a Lanzer patrolling between two random trees.

“How far in can you zoom?”

The map expands to fill the entire hud, and then focuses in on the object, but it’s mostly just a blurry mess of pixels.

“Would you like me to digitally enhance it, Lt.?”

Elysian shakes their head, knowing that it would be pointless. “Don’t bother, your guess would be as good as mine.” They instead lean their head in and squint, comparing it to their mental database of pre-disaster Lanzer models. “It looks like it’s just a Ground Lanzer… Mark II? But it’s carrying something on its back.”

“Remember what the Councilwoman said, Lieutenant,” Luna proclaimed out of nowhere, almost instinctively reading Elysian’s intentions. They wave the invisible presence away.

“Yes, yes, I know.”

—

The retro-boosters in Type-Artemis’ legs ease its descent into the savanna with no problems, and the hud blinks a red triangle in the distance where the orbiting ships’ cameras spotted the target. Sure enough, it was a Ground Mark II with some sort of large backpack. The lieutenant sizes it up from a distance when a lunarian voice comes over comms. “Lt. Truth, this is the LMS Perseverantiae reporting that we’re ready for bombardment. Just fire the tracker at the location from the catapult equipped on the Type-Artemis from a safe location once you’ve determined the target and we’ll do this rest. Orbital ship out.”

A display on the hud listed all of the Type-Artemis’ weapons in a handy list. Beam rifle, beam sword, tracker catapult. The rifle and the sword were attached to the Lanzer’s power systems and were basically infinite if both reactors were activated (Elysian’s skin itched at the thought). The catapult had a big 1 next to it. After a second’s deliberation, the lieutenant switched over to the rifle, and the Type-Artemis automatically drew it and aimed it forward. It’s just one Ground Lanzer, Elysian thought to themself. Luna didn’t say anything as they marched into range, took aim, and fired.

Luna's aim assist sent the shot directly to where the enemy Lanzer was going to be based on its current trajectory, but it almost knew where that shot was going and zipped laterally, offering Elysian a better view of what was on its back. It was the shape of a turtle shell, covered in plated metal and glass. Is that a second cockpit? No… what good would that do? They didn’t have time to dwell on it before Ground Lanzer determined the Type-Artemis’ position and open fired with its machine gun and forced the lunarian to respond in kind.

The two danced in a violent ballet for several minutes, trading shots and dodging them in kind, all the while the two machines grew closer and closer until they were practically in range to touch. “Lieutenant, we are currently too close to the target. Retreat and fire the beacon.” Elysian didn’t have to voice their disagreement, they were already too focused, too excited, and having too much fun. “Fire the second reactor, Luna.” “That is not a wise course of action, Lieutenant. We are currently acting outside mission parameters.”

Elysian frowned. Luckily, they knew exactly what to do to get the machine’s AI to do what they wanted. He triggered the emergency unequip functions on the rifle and the catapule, which both launched well clear of the battlefield as the Type-Artemis automatically drew its melee weapon. Elysian could have sworn that they heard Luna groan as this happened. “Emergency situation detected. Activating second reactor.”

Magnets in Elysian’s flight suit yank them back into the cockpit’s seat, forcing them to sit at a reclining angle as a 6-pack configuration of large needles press themselves into Elysian’s back around their spine. It used to hurt, but now it feels exhilarating, like the fight was just now getting good. Violet crystals slowly creep in the edges of the pilot’s vision, and with a raspy yell, Elysian fires off a message across all open channels: “Let’s dance!”

Firing the second reactor in the Type-Artemis always had the same effects: Faster boosts, longer range beam sword, more powerful weapon blasts. But the most fun part was always Elysian’s radically improved reaction speeds. Everything moved in slow motion. Every other pilot was just a child in playground equipment. And this one was no different, as it seemed to just stand still and did its best to block and parry elongated sword attack with its pitiful axe.

But then it does something that the lunarian didn’t expect. With an almost pre-programmed motion, the Ground Lanzer grabs the Type-Artemis’ free arm after a wild sword swing, and brings it close into a tight hug. They were too close for the lunarian Lanzer to swing its powered up sword, and the machine’s faces grew close enough to kiss. “Wh… Get off! Savage scum!” Elysian charged up the boosters for a violent getaway, but it was too late.

The earthling machine’s turtle shell blasted off of its back, and swung up and around in a controlled rocket burst aided by a thick cable attacking it to the Ground Lanzer. It was already staring directly into the Type-Artemis’ back as a thick tentacle with its own beam sword ejected out of a metal panel and directly through the lunarian mecha’s head, killing all outside cameras feeding into the cockpit. “Disaster situation detected. Imminent mission failure, violent chargon leakage, emergenc-”

The entire cockpit fills with a thick grey fluid, the sound of igniting fuel, and then darkness.

Art by https://x.com/REEvolt119956

[aangarchy]

I feel like i need to reiterate what my opinion on the southern raiders as an episode is bc my previous posts about it are like 3 years old at this point, so here goes. I want to preface this by saying all of this is in fact my opinion and not me trying to state facts. I'm not going to argue who's right or wrong. I'm not going to debate it either. If your opinion is different: great! You're a human being that can also think for themselves!

In my opinion, the southern raiders is not a good episode. The only reason it exists, is because Katara needed to stop hating Zuko and start trusting him, and thus Zuko would be officially and fully part of the gaang. There's a reason they didn't give Toph a life changing field trip episode. It wasn't necessary in the narrative because Toph already pretty much trusted Zuko. Sokka and Aang had their respective Zuko trips, and Suki rode along in Sokka's episode. Katara was the only one left and for some reason this is what they came up with, and they crammed it in right before a filler episode so they could start of the finale.

I particularly dislike Zuko's behavior in this episode. I'm not saying it's out of character. I just feel like at this point in the story he should know better. First he doesn't understand why Katara is still angry at him. Then he gets to the conclusion that Katara has connected her anger towards her mother's murderer to him, which isn't false, but Katara is still justified in her anger because Zuko has also been very shitty towards her. Then once he has the information he needs from Sokka (who didn't ask to get involved and just wanted to have a fun night with his girlfriend and now had to recall one of his most traumatic memories) he just drops it onto Katara, first cornering her by waiting outside her tent to make sure he's the first thing she sees. He also tells her he "knows who did it." Only he doesn't actually know does he? He just knows it's the leader of the southern raiders, but he doesn't know where to find him yet, but he does know where they can find out so it's okay. They only need to ninja sneak into a highly guarded tower and get a the map. No biggie. Then they march over to Aang and tell him they "need to borrow Appa". They don't even ask him nicely, they just say "we need him". Aang is rightfully sceptical.

Now i know Appa is their only mode of transportation in this episode bc the airship is with Hakoda. But can i remind everyone that Appa is more than just a vehicle? He's a living breathing animal and also Aang's pet. And Aang has already lost him once. They're planning on taking Appa straight into the danger zone without Aang or any armor. And they don't even ask permission! They were planning to sneak out with him at night without Aang's knowledge too! What if Appa got hurt? What if they get captured along with Appa?

Then when Aang points out how this plan sounds insane (bc it fucking is), Katara immediately tells Aang he doesn't understand. What's weird about this is Aang is actually one of the few people there that DOES. Aang is a victim of genocide just like Katara. Within a few days he went from wandering the airtemples with the other kids and playing pai cho with Gyatso to learning his entire civilization and culture has been dead for a century. He was faced with his mentor and father figure's skeleton, and with the knowledge that whomever did it has been dead for a long time. He points this out to Katara, and Zuko dismisses him saying this is what Katara needs.

It's funny how Zuko's entire motivation for this plan in the first place is for Katara to stop hating him. It's entirely selfish, and he's essentially using Katara's grief for his benefit. But all of a sudden when they get stopped by Aang and asked to explain themselves Zuko believes this is what Katara needs. Now i am willing to believe that Zuko genuinely thinks this will help Katara at this point, as it seems like he's living a bit through her. After all he too lost his mother (although he recently discovered she is alive) and boy wouldn't he like to hurt Ozai for being responsible for his mother's disappearance. But this doesn't take away that this plan started with selfish motivations.

Aang rightfully points out that this isn't about closure but about revenge, and tries to explain to both of them the airnomad philosophy around revenge. Zuko, still wanting to go ahead with his plan bc he wants Katara to stop hating him, dismisses this and calls it "airtemple preschool". I'll rephrase that: a direct descendant of the nation that eradicated the entire airnomad population dismisses and insults the teachings of said eradicated culture. And it's played of as a joke? Because it's a funny phrase i suppose? Hardy har the oppressor is making fun of the beliefs and culture of the oppressed! And as if this isn't enough, he decides to drive this home even further by calling Aang a "guru goodie goodie" when Aang asked Katara not to choose revenge. Again we're supposed to find this funny, and sure as a kid the line on its own is funny. But growing up and realizing the context around it, it very quickly becomes not funny and actually kind of infuriating, because again the reason Zuko is trying so hard to dismiss Aang is that he wants this plan to succeed so Katara will stop throwing insults his way. Katara is also very mean towards Sokka this episode, claiming he didn't love their mother the way she did. Poor Sokka really got put trough the ringer this episode.

I also again want to point out how dangerous this plan is. The first field trip with Aang was different. They were visiting ruins for the benefit of Aang learning firebending (a skill he needs to face Ozai), so this trip was very necessary. Sokka's trip was "selfish" for other reasons than Katara. He felt like he failed his dad by letting him get captured, and so he wants to prove himself by getting him out. At least we can applaud Sokka and Zuko for not endangering Appa into enemy territory this time around, and for going into the trip with good intentions (aka saving Dad and later up saving Suki). But the consequences of Sokka's trip show up almost immediately because Azula was able to track them down and bomb the place. The southern raiders trip could have very well had the same exact consequences. They could get captured, they could die, they could get tracked and lead the fire nation to the location of the Avatar (who they now know is alive and is once again their biggest threat), Appa could get hurt. All of this to murder a man and they don't end up doing it. (Just to be clear i'm not mad that Katara didn't kill Yon Rah, i'm actually really happy with that choice and how it foreshadows Aang choosing not to kill Ozai. I'm mad at the fact that they did this dangerous plan with bad intentions and didn't even complete it.)

Now by the end, i'm not saying Aang was completely in the right this episode. He told Katara to forgive this man when he knows damn well she would never. I'm not saying she couldn't. She just wouldn't. But he was right in saying that Katara needed to face this man and come to a non-violent closure. He was also correct in the assumption that Katara needed to forgive. He only wanted Katara to aim this forgiveness at the wrong person. Katara did forgive at the end. She forgave Zuko (who still didn't really deserve it in my opinion because we never even see him apologize to Katara personally for what he did to her?) Zuko even admits at the end that Aang was right in saying violence wasn't the answer. Aang's methods were just a bit off this episode, because there was no way Katara was going to listen to him.

To round this off: this episode could have been done differently. The only thing that really needed to happen for the plot, was for Katara to forgive Zuko and for Zuko to ask Aang how he was going to apply his pacifist upbringing into defeating the firelord. Everything else wasn't narratively necessary, and brought up some very questionable scenes. You could argue that we needed to find out what happened to Katara's mother, but honestly we kind of already knew. She died at the hands of the fire nation. We didn't really need to have it laid out, so it wasn't necessary for the story.

Anyway, that's it. Like i said above, i don't really want to debate this. If you disagree with it you can make your own post about it, i'd rather not get into arguments in the reblogs or comments.

[katyspersonal]

Some more SOTE adventures! (Yes no work today)

1) I wasn't really sure what to do with myself for now since I prefer to meticulously explore corners of the map instead of going the 'straight road' (that's how I only got to Rellana later), so I went back to my sorry attempts to get down to that village-looking place down in Scadu Altus! And succeeded! Turned out it WAS the place that revealed more of Marika's backstory :') Bonny Vilage, where the potting is done!

(Also be careful if you are selling duplicates, it looks EXACTLY like Anastasia's butchering knife! Makes sense since both exist for the same purpose)

^ This weapon is found in a secluded building literally named Whipping Hut, also near the ghost that reveals the reasoning. I guess everyone and their dogs already got informed on the twist that the shamans stuffed in jars by Hornsent to become "divine" were Marika's village people, so I won't dwell on this. Also I assume the poison in question is that of giant scorpions since they're found in Belurat and close to this village? Old woman in Belurat also gives you scorpion stew if you speak with her wearing Lion Dancer's mask after reloading the area 🤔

2) There is shed snake skin in this place!!!

Really interesting 👀 It was also near a headless statue and I picked 'O, Mother' gesture from it

3) Cleaned the gaol associated with this area too! The boss was one of the "awful posture guys".. that turned out to be an awful posture girl x)

Yes, this boss interestingly was casting darkness all over the area, which is not something this type of enemy does! However, Lamenter also was using darkness if I remember correctly, and his mask says that the Hornsent were scared of this transformation and hid it away 🤔 This reminds me of those Omen Twins fought on the way to the Divine Tower of Morgott and Mohg, who were casting darkness. Basically I start to get a picture that there were things about Hornsent nature that even themselves were scared of! (Scared of the dark? Gwyn approves XDDDD) Just going to put a pin on that for later!

Also they better explain who the heck Labirith is later :/

4) More about this

Yes, I've finally finished grinding the full sets of both Horned Knights and Curseblades! Both sets include the bit about effects of the flasks lessening due to being nauseating! It is pretty clear by now that the Hornsent who currently exist don't know why Marika's people (her most loyal son more like) exterminated them, however their hatred and pain carries even onto their armors.

Have the Hornsent forgotten their history? But isn't the old woman in Belurat an Empyrean too? Would not she be old enough to remember why? Could the carried plot to butcher and """ascend""" the shamans have been not a common knowledge but only a doing of one like, cult within Hornsent? And yet the vengeance came for EVERYONE... Or Maybe Marika/Messmer never revealed who EXACTLY came after their kind for vengeance? Tea? (I'm gonna pick "cult" option for now.....)

5) SPEAKING OF OLD WOMEN,

I did not expect more Miriam info of all people!! @val-of-the-north you seeing this????Makes sense we found it in this building!

6) Yeeeeees I've met him when I went on another path from Bonny Village!

His hat resembles the statue we use to turn that Carian tower upside-down, where we fight Miriam again and in which we get to Ranni's quest secret place! And also unreal amount of wolves on the way to him and in his residence, who are carian symbol. So yeah this guy is 100% Carian!

7) He gave me a map and I'll need some time to figure out where the location is.. I could not use a simple map to save my life, just full topographic cretinism as usual!

8) This item is interesting though, as well as how his mansion is called Manus Metiyr! Manus means hand!

And there are giant fingerprints full of fingers on the overworld map, and those Fingercreepers, and Ranni's place had Cathedral of Manus Celes (celestial hand)...... things are starting to piece together 👀

9) Another mention-only character we will never see? :p Some engineer that created a gun that shoots magic!

That's it for now since I have to go.. But yes, now I am SUPER willing to know the deal with giant celestial fingers having once grabbed this land hfhgfhgh

[hellhound5925]

One shot (that isn’t really a one shot) - Sargent Hunter

Warnings:

18+, It’s filth so enjoy accordingly. Dark smut? Mentions of being a victim.

Masquerade (Part Three)

Summary:

Wrapping up the night of her dreams Circe rides into night her knight in shining armor. Not much else to say about this one.

Thank you to my girlies for their help as usual 💖 Part Two linked here and Part One is linked in the second one.

Reminder: Dance Macabre by Ghost was the original inspo but now I’m feeling a little Hunters Moon and you’ll see why.

After being dragged out onto the street, Hunter stops for a moment and looks around.

"Whats the matter? Get a little lost?" I tease. He gives me a sided eye glare and huffs a sigh. An idea hits and I start to take me heels off.

"What are you doing?" confusion laced in his words.

"I can move faster without them and besides...." I grunt struggling to pull off the second one. "They aren't that comfortable" the shoe finally frees itself from my foot almost sending me tumbling over. Two strong arms catch me before I can actually fall. Hunters face is only inches from mine, his breath fans over my face.

"Thanks" I say under my breath. My eyes wonder his face, tracing the skull tattoo before stopping at his lips. At this distance it wouldn't take much to reach...

He lets go and we both collect ourselves for a moment. Taking the mask off my face, I gather my things into one hand before grabbing my dress with the other. I start walking off in one direction and realize he isn't following me.

"Are you coming?" I sass not really meaning to. Hunter hesitates for a moment before joining me.

Feeling bad for him I decide to make conversation "This must be a lot for you. All the noise...your senses are probably working overtime."

He signs and looks down at his feet before responding, "Sometimes it can be, yeah."

Letting go of my dress, I take his hand. "Well don't worry. Where we are going, it'll be quiet. Promise."

When he looks at me his eyes seem to sparkle under the walkway lighting. He gives my hand a light squeeze and my heart skips a beat.

We stroll for a while and make small talk to get to know each other more. I've interacted with him a few times before but solely on a professional level, things never got personal. The one thing I notice is he only seems to talk about his brothers...the other members of Clone Force 99.

"What about you though? You talk about your brothers so much. What about you?" I prod him a little hoping he will give me more.

"What do you mean?"

The clones have done so much for this galaxy whether they wanted to or not, the Sargent...a man...deserves at to want. I sigh trying to figure out how to word it, "I mean what does Sargent Hunter want?"

He thinks for a moment, "I've never really thought about that. We were bred for war and my job is to protect my men. That's all I know."

We walk in silence until we reach my apartment building. I take him up to the roof where its nice and quiet as promised. He follows me over to a small table with two chairs.

"I put this up here when I moved in. I like how quiet it is." I explain, setting my things on the table before sitting down. Hunter sits in the chair across from me, staring at the ground deep in thought.

"Everything okay Sargent?" I try to lighten the mood. "If it's something I've said, I'm sorry. I mean no offense but just curious is all."

He still doesn't look at me which worries me more, the war between his feelings - one he probably never thought existed - was written all over his face. Feeling like I ruined everything, I get down on ground in front of him and rest my hands on his knee, looking up at him. At this point he's forced to look at me and his expression changes back to the unwavering confidence of a Sargent. 

"You" he says like he's giving his men an order.

I'm even more confused, "Me, what?"

"I want you" the words fall from his lips and hit me square in the face. My heart begins to race and heat pooling in my core, as a smile spreads across his face. His words ring in my ears as I process the fact that this is really happening.

The moonlight bathing us in its bewitching glow, this moment is too perfect. It's everything a girl could have ever dreamed. The two of us sitting on the roof top staring into one another eyes and in this moment thats the only thing the matters. I reach for his face, the stubble a welcomed sensation under my palm.

"Then you'll have me."

Before I can even process whats happening his lips are crashing into mine, they are softer than I'd imagined. His tongue begs for entrance to my mouth and I welcome it with my own. The taste of him like a divine revelation, a start of a new chapter for both of us. Pulling me onto his lap, the warmth of his arms sending a rush of excitement through my veins. I make myself comfortable pressed completely against him, forcing him to lean back in the chair. His arousal makes itself known between my legs, creating a new desperation. I deepen the kiss to prevent a sound from escaping.

We break, foreheads pressed together and both panting from the lack of oxygen. My eyes flick down to his lips, they are stained with my lip stick. Huffing a small laugh, I lean back. Confusion plastered all over Hunters face, until I notice him look at my lips. Reaching up he gently, runs a thumb around the edge of my lips - probably from smeared lip stick. His hands return to their place on my hips. I take the time to delicately return the favor and watch as his facial expression turns to one of a starved man.

Leaning in, I kiss his neck which causes his chest to rumble with a low growl. I make my way back up to his ear and whisper,

"Make me yours."

His breath hitches in this throat, he's a complete mess like I was earlier in the night. "Are you sure?" He asks between heavy breaths.

Dragging my nose across his cheek - making sure to take my time - both hands firmly on his chest. Slowly I trail both hands down his torso, he inhales sharply and I can't help the lusty chuckle that graces us with its presence.

"I'm sure"

My hands find their way down to his waist, undoing his belt and carefully undoing his dress pants. The entire time neither of us dares break eye contact. He takes care, to adjust my dress in a such a way to not ruin it but allow him access to my center. One of his hands makes it was up to my shoulder gently tracing over my collarbone in such a way that I close my eyes in anguish. His other hand, tails up one of my tights before his fingers skillfully make themselves at home in my core.

Suddenly having removed his hand, I whimper at the cold. He adjusts himself before grabbing my hips and burying himself as far as he can inside me. I let out a sharp gasp and reach behind me squeezing what I can grab of his thighs, throwing my head back. Hunter lets out a deep lusty grunt that sends a wave of vibrations through him into me. Never in a million rotations could I have imagined the rapturous delight that flowed through my body at the hands of a man.

I’m so close to the edge, his slow and steady movements are almost painful. Throwing my arms around his shoulders pressing myself back into him and taking over. His hands slide down my hips to my thighs, grip tightening as he takes back control.

"Easy Meshl'a...I'm going to....m-make you mine" he grunts pulling me closer kissing and nipping at my collar bone. As he makes his way up my neck, to the spot behind my ear I can feel the marks starting to form.

Both of us so caught up in the moment that seems to end too soon. The two of us sit in silence, unmoving for a moment. I look up at the sky and notice the stars and moon are willing themselves to peer through the foggy sky. Hunter doesn't take his eyes off me, I can practically feel it.

The feeling of finally giving in and having had a sweet taste of intimacy with one another lingers. Covered in a thin layer of sweat and arousal, I’m left panting and heart beating so fast that it feels as though it might leap from my chest. Peaking together in our shared extract felt like a drug. I craved more… no I needed more. More touch, more kissing, more lust… It was the reward of my longing.

I meet his greedy gaze, greedy for me. Not being able to hold back any longer, the kissing and touching begin once again. Our cloths from the evening hurriedly piled on the ground. It all happened to fast, the cool night air was quite a surprise to my bare skin.

He effortlessly, stands from the chair with me still in his lap and places me on the table. I wrap my legs around his waist, trapping him there. Without much warning, he once again buries himself in my center, his thrusts into me hard and fast. I feel every inch of this mammoth size, making every part of me his. This time was different…this time it was selfish, greedy, and feral.

"You smell so incredibly mouth-watering when you're aroused" he grunts between pants and moans.

For a moment I find myself unable to speak, a response is on the tip of my tongue, yet I swallow it, far too engrossed in pure pleasure he sends burning through my veins. Hunters gaze glides over my body, hot and demanding, his hand grips my chin before his tongue again dominates your mouth, each velvety collision sends explosive fireworks racing through your body. He lets go of me for a brief moment taking a deep breath expelling it as his eyes meet mine, his pupils dilated to the point they resemble an animal with its prey in sight.

"Hu... oh Hunter" I cry out like the hopeless victim.

My whole abdomen trembles as his pace becomes more brutal, the intense feeling of being so close to our peaks is almost too much. Hunter rails into my dripping wet opening greedily my lust filled cries only encourage him. Inhailing our scents deeply, he closes his eyes briefly and lets out an animalistic groan.

“Fuck mesh'la, You feel so good around me."

I feel his pelvis slap harshly against me again and again, naked skin against naked skin, a glistening layer of salty sweat coats our skin.  The speed he fucks me at, his regal voice send my body over the edge, I come undone for him, coating this throbbing cock in my juices. Pure white hot liquid pleasure surges through my veins, my vision clouded with all the stars in the galaxy. I shake and shudder underneath him moaning and cursing in my native tongue.

"Hunter!...Osi’kyr (Oh shit)!"

I feel the force of his blaster calloused hands grip down onto my hips once again, knowing I will be bruised from this encounter. He half swallows a moan as his pace now becoming irregular, the base of his cock swelling inside of me smacking against my cervix. Every nerve ending in my body feels on fire. My sounds are not my own as he finally spills his warm seed inside of me, we grip onto each other as he fucks me savagely through our highs. Seeing the Sargent fall apart like that for me was completely exquisite.

Hunter rasped a breathy moan as he softened inside me pulling out slowly, once more he presses his forehead to mine nuzzling my face and kissed me sweetly on my temple.

“Now you’re mine” he whispers between panted breaths.

Taglist: @cloneloverrrrr @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @idoubleswearimawriter

@savebytheodore @savebytheodoresnonjosestuff @jediknightjana @techs-goggles9902 @clonethirstingisreal

[capriccio-ffxiv]

thinking about Illyria and how her main job isn't actually Dragoon (though that's a big part of her!) or Arcanist

It's actually Mimic/Mime & Blue Mage.

Both "This is a way to explain why she's an omniclasser"

and some other things

I'd never intended to pick up Bard or Dancer but did anyway and am glad because they're actually super fun, but a whole thing for Illy is she was always the black sheep of the family there (her mom and brother are actors & musicians; her dad is a carpenter who builds musical instruments). Terrible singer, two left feet; she's actually decent at carpentry, but terrible at things like accounting, staying on task, actually finishing orders. It's why her parents sent her to arcanist school... and why she dropped out after taking several extra years.

But here's the thing. Give her instructions and tools and she can perfectly replicate an item. Show her a song or dance, and she can exactly copy it... but she can't remember it after. It's why she loves cooking, but could never be a chef---people love it when you can follow a recipe exactly (or even improvise a bit to fix the recipe), but it's not a big deal if she isn't coming up with her own unique stuff all the time.

It also means she always feels... hollow. Like an impostor, like there's nothing there. She mimics, she mimes; she builds on everyone else's talents, but there's no Illyria at the center of all that. The Warrior of Light doesn't exist, as far as she's concerned; that is a mask she wears. People told her what that hero was supposed to be like, and she followed their instructions perfectly. She's always been trying to live up to what others wanted her to be—her mom, her dad...

(even sex for her is just something else you do to please people, another mask, another thing she's good at because she's just a mirror people project on to)

Haurchefant was one of the only people who just wanted her to be her.

And then Estinien, it turns out, was the same way, or rather, he never really expected anything of her. First, it was get out of his way, then it was ... but he's always gone. Always leaving.

I'm still sorting the timeline, but I think she stuck around long enough that she did, indeed, defeat the Endsinger, but most of that wasn't even her—it was this sort of... Dynamis-fueled idea of her, this... mantle, this mask she was wearing. All the hopes of the star, worn like a costume, like armor.

And then after that of course she goes to Feo-Ul and says, "Surely you can take the me out of this thing, this... whatever it is. And let me rest."

Greymalken pretends they don't care—they're a voidsent, this is just another body to wear. Nevermind that their pact had been an equitable one, that they'd started to feel... something? Something, from being in the sun. No.

The Maenad wants to argue that she is part of that core, she is the part of Illyria that loves herself, except that her hate and pain and rage is greater than her love, and in the end maybe she's just part of that greater whorl of expectations and projections. The version of the Warrior of Light that's feared, not loved.

Silver is a soul bound to a weapon and some part of him thinks in his last life that's all he was too, and he promised he'd always be by her side (he thinks?) except she's not even there anymore. He is not as he was. ... but a knight must give his life for others. This is his calling. Isn't it?

The gestalt entity that's left, well, even Y'shtola barely notices; after all, the Maenad still holds the same color and shape, just as any Dark Knight's shadow does. And the Voidsent and Anima were already there. Why would even she notice that there's no longer a core? Was there ever a core to begin with?

(And again, Illyria's name... 'Illyria' is an imaginary country from a Shakespeare play. 'Capriccio' is a painting of a place that doesn't exist; a fantasy of architecture and landscape that looks like it could, maybe, be real, but isn't. Often of ruins; the most famous of which is Piranesi's Prisons of the Imagination...)

[karriethemechtech]

Drawing Blanks

Exhausted. That’s what Karrie was. Exhausted. It had been months since she last strode into combat—let alone dropped from orbit—and she felt it. And as she limped her custom Awesome back from the frontlines, she knew it could feel it too; every day clung to them like cigarette smoke. Images flashed through her mind—the crackle of PPC fire, the roaring scream of a hyper-assault gauss rifle, the dying screams of Blakists over the comms. All of it was saved in the Old Girl’s BattleROM, and as they walked it saw fit to show them to her over and over again. She grumbled and willed the machine to change the subject. Thanks, but no thanks, she thought. I’ll think about that later.

As she did so, the warning lights started up again, and across her Neurohelmet’s view a dozen errors popped in and out of existence. She drew up her focus and forced them to come by one at a time—the armor was completely compromised in the left arm and torso, noted; the heat sinks were overtaxed and some of the wiring had fused, of course; some of the myomers had snapped in the right leg, along with a busted lower leg actuator, which would be why she was limping so badly. She looked to the weapons—one PPC’s focusing array had been busted by a missile, but the rest were operating at battle-ready efficiency, if relatively light on ammunition and cooling capacity. The engine, now leaking heat as its containment fields struggled against the glowing plasma within, nonetheless surprised her with its performance. Clanspec engines really are well put together. Even when they’re an XL….

Splayed across her ‘Mech’s side view was an impromptu lance of wounded ‘Mechs—a Highlander on the heavier side, with two of the SLDF’s mediums in tow. She seemed to be in better shape than they were—smoke billowed from the Highlander’s torso, and the rest of the ‘Mechs…ugh. It occurred to Karrie that normally she would be able to identify them, were she not in a poor state. Maybe the Neural Link is damaged, she thought, heart sinking. That would explain why I can’t…can’t think.

Her command instincts took over, and she called for a sound-off over the radio.

“Aff, Warrant Officer. I show damage on my readouts, but I will live,” responded the Highlander’s pilot. The other pilots quickly followed suit.

“We doin’ ok then?” she asked. “I mean, as people. That’s a rough thing to drop in on, yeah?”

“…aff,” the pilot replied unconvincingly.

“Hey, look. You’re not dealing with another Clanner, you can tell me.” She winced as the words left her mouth. Not the right thing to say….

“Aff. A fact you remind me of with far more than words, Warrant Officer. Must I remind you that, were it not for the General’s favor, I should be the one ordering you around?”

“…sorry. Didn’t mean to cause any offense.”

“Yet you do.”

“I do.”

“Keep the air clear for important information. I will not answer you again.”

“…a-aye, sir,” Karrie forced. A cold silence filled the airwaves, leaving Karrie alone with the wheezing hum of the Old Girl’s damaged engine.

She could see the forward base on the horizon. A trio of DropShips had touched down full of support staff and equipment, and temporary structures were just beginning to be assembled. Barely visible people bustled like ants, coolant trucks and SupportMechs close in tow. It was relieving. It was also rapidly coming up, and she hadn’t identified them yet.

As if on time, a crackly voice spoke over the radio. “This is forward base Omaha to incoming lance, please identify. Repeat, Omaha to incoming BattleMech lance, please identify.”

“Warrant Officer Karrie DeLacey with three SLDF ‘Mechs in tow. One Highlander, two…” she replies. “…shoot, two…”

“Repeat, Warrant Officer DeLacey? You cut off.”

A bolt of panic shot through Karrie’s mind. Why couldn’t she identify the ‘Mechs? That was her job! As if to answer her, the Old Girl’s TRO computer squealed, and a shaky readout appeared in her view. “Sorry,” she said quickly. “One Highlander, two Raptor II’s inbound, in need of repairs.”

“Aff, Warrant Officer DeLacey. Three MechBays are being prepared. Approach at your convenience. Keep us informed if you need firefighting assistance.”

“Aye.” She flipped a switch to broadcast only to the ‘Mechs around her. “Alright, we’ve been given clearance to approach. You guys’ll get repairs, a little bit of rest for your injuries, and then we’ll get right back out there,” Karrie said as they walked.

Gradually, the base came closer and further into focus for the wounded lance. The DropShips became towering, egg-shaped behemoths, looming over the ‘Mechs—almost enough to scare you.

“Warrant Officer DeLacey, you have made a mistake,” the Highlander’s pilot called, snapping Karrie suddenly back to reality.

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“By the Founder, you are a fool. There are only three MechBays prepared for us.”

Karrie’s blood ran ice cold. “So there are….”

“You are to stand watch. I and the Raptor IIs will receive repairs.”

Karrie flushed blood-red within the safe walls of her cockpit. “A-aye. You lot all get in there—I’ll keep ya safe, eh?”

“Warrant Officer, try to maintain a veneer of competency? Now come. The bays are open.”

Karrie sat in the ringing silence of her cockpit.

“Aye.”