#like seriously its such a minor detail and yet its SO telling

[illuminatedferret]

ascensions lian

one of my favorite things about rereading tgcf is finding little bits of info where MXTX showcases how crazy strong xie lian is. like in the PROLOGUE we learn that if people trying to ascend fail their Heavenly Tribulations they either die or are (socially? physically?) ruined. like, nevermind the rigors of cultivating to ascension, the act of ascension itself is lethally dangerous.

and XIE LIAN

this motherfucker ascended for the first time IN HIS SLEEP. the second time he was so busy pummeling bai wuxiang that he didn't even notice it!!! what the hell!!! what the hell is this guy on and how do i get some

[thankskenpenders]

Amy's fortune cards

The Sonic fandom has long been the kind of fandom that takes minor details very seriously, for better or worse. On the one hand, this means fans will really dig for the diamonds in the rough, latching onto fun character interactions, animations, bits of background worldbuilding, and more in pieces of Sonic media that many would write off as "the bad ones." But it also feels like every week another needlessly hostile debate over Sonic minutia erupts on Twitter, whether it's over individual lines of dialogue, fanart that makes Tails' shoes blue, or the ideal length and volume for Sonic's quills.

So it was probably inevitable that a fandom-wide debate would erupt upon seeing Amy's new gameplay style in the DLC for Sonic Frontiers, which takes the once-obscure fact that she enjoys reading tarot and shines a spotlight on it like never before.

I mean:

The thing is, while I basically always try to tune out Sonic fandom bickering... for once, I kind of sympathize with the detractors? Don't get me wrong, I like Amy's tarot stuff, and people on all sides of the discussion are being overly nasty about their opinions, as usual. (Sonic Twitter remains my personal hell.) But when I set aside the hyperbole and zoom out, I do think I understand why some fans are put off by the sudden shift in focus for the character, even if I think it's cool.

It's complicated. Let me attempt to present the cases for and against Amy's fortune cards

For years, I was always one of those fans who thought it could be fun if they played with Amy's tarot reading, or even leaned into some kind of magic with her. Part of that is my own biases showing, but there's just something that makes sense there, especially when you look at Sonic, Tails, and Amy as a trio. (I would argue that's the real "Team Sonic" these days, especially in the comics where Knuckles is more likely to be stuck on Angel Island or otherwise doing his own thing.)

You could argue that Tails is all about logic, relying on science and technology and deductive reasoning to solve problems. But Amy is all about emotion. She wears her heart on her sleeve, is extremely empathetic, and is very prone to magical thinking - both figuratively and sometimes literally. Her origin story has always been that her tarot cards told her it was her destiny to meet Sonic on Little Planet. She's claimed to be able to "sense" peoples' presences - particularly Sonic's. She's the type to believe that The Power of Love is a literal magical force. So, on some level, it makes sense to mirror Tails's science by having Sonic's other best friend believe in magic. And then Sonic is somewhere in the middle, primarily following his own gut instincts but taking advice from both of them as needed. This isn't totally accurate to how their dynamics actually function in canon stories, but I think it's a mode that could work for them.

Going off of that, it's fun to lean all the way into Amy being a magical girl, or even a witch, using her fortune telling as a foundation. Take, for example, this version of Amy from Diana Skelly's old Sonic cast redesigns from before she freelanced for Archie and IDW. This is one of MANY such redesigns for Amy.

Fast forward to the 2020s, and Amy's tarot cards are, in fact, finally getting brought up again in canon. Which is fun! I like seeing that. I like all of the individual stories involving Amy's fortune cards. This is a fun character trait for Amy, a fun nod to old lore, AND a fun storytelling device, all in one. It's really cool that the Sonic universe has its own thematically appropriate arcana, and that the cards are getting made as physical merch. And sure enough, the official card backs and borders were designed by none other than Diana Skelly, in yet another cool example of an ascendant fan leaving their mark on the series.

BUT... when you step back and look at the big picture, I get why some fans find this shift in focus jarring. At the moment, it's starting to feel like every new story about Amy involves her fortune cards to some degree.

The most recent mainline comic arc to feature Amy as the lead character, 2021's Trial by Fire arc, prominently features a sequence where she reads fortunes while camping with the girls. The Origins version of Sonic CD now bookends the game with scenes of Amy and her tarot cards. Sonic randomly mentioned it in a scene in Frontiers. And now, just this week, we got the (very cute, gorgeously illustrated) Amy's 30th Anniversary comic with a story revolving around Amy's tarot cards, followed the very next day by the Frontiers DLC in which she gets a brand new tarot-based moveset. Even her base melee attack now has her throwing tarot cards instead of swinging her hammer. Again, I like all of these individual things, but after years of it almost never coming up at all, it's VERY noticeable that Amy's tarot cards are suddenly everywhere.

To be fair, I'm looking at this from the perspective of a superfan who's actively following ALL Sonic media. Casual fans - especially kids - aren't necessarily going to be reading the comics every month, buying the thousandth rerelease of the Genesis games, or playing the ultra-hard new alternate ending DLC for a game that came out last year. Each of these stories is going to be someone's introduction to the idea that Amy can read tarot, and that's probably part of the idea behind this unified push.

But to play devil's advocate, for my fellow superfans, I understand why it feels like a very minor footnote of Amy's character is suddenly becoming the entire focus of her personality. While Amy has always been said to enjoy fortune telling, that wasn't really a character trait in and of itself, but rather an example of her being a typical girl who hopes she'll be able to find true love one day. It's less that Amy can literally predict the future and more like her using a cootie catcher or going "he loves me, he loves me not" while picking the petals off of a flower. So I get not vibing with this stuff, or feeling like it's being pushed very hard out of nowhere.

What I don't agree with are comparisons like "it's like if they made Knuckles' moveset revolve around him liking grapes." Like, I get it. Ian Flynn loves shoehorning in his little winking references for us nerds, and mentions of Amy's tarot cards were previously on the same level as other random bullet points from old Japanese manuals. But a multifaceted hobby like fortune telling that opens up so many narrative and aesthetic possibilities is obviously very different from having a favorite food. It's ALWAYS been a part of her story, not just a random fact, and there's no reason why the fortune telling can't be elevated to something more.

And, hell, even if it wasn't an established character trait, there's nothing inherently wrong with injecting new ideas into a character. One of the best Amy stories in recent years, the Free Comic Book Day special "Amy's New Hobby" written by Gale Galligan, came up with the idea that Amy's secretly been drawing little comics about her and her friends. Is this based on Lore? No. But it's cute, and helps tell the story of a younger Amy who's still coming out of her shell as both a hero and a friend.

Certain fans are also looking at Amy's Frontiers moveset and using it as evidence that once again the Vile American Contributors like Ian are CORRUPTING Sonic Team's perfect vision of Sonic with their misinterpretations. And like. Come on. Ian does not control the gameplay. He's a freelance writer. The tarot stuff is clearly something that Sonic Team likes if they made it the basis of Amy's new moveset - and, you know, if they keep approving comics and animations about Amy's fortune telling. None of this gets made without their blessing, and lord knows how much they can micromanage shit and shoot down ideas over the most minor of details.

Like, yeah, Amy's fortune telling was probably conceived less as a sign that she Knows Magic and more as a pretty mundane hobby for a lovesick young Japanese girl to have. But you're gonna sit there and tell me that using Amy's tarot cards for more than that could only be the result of a cultural misunderstanding? That nobody in Japan uses tarot card theming and aesthetics (or the general idea of magical cards) for the cool factor? Stardust Crusaders? Persona? The Astrologian class in FFXIV? Cardcaptor Sakura?? Hello??? Do you think Capcom put Gambit in Marvel vs. Capcom ironically because they thought using magic to throw cards at people was stupid? There's tons of precedent for this! It's nothing like Knuckles throwing grapes at people, be for real.

Giving Amy a very magical girl-esque moveset also just makes a lot of sense. For decades her hammer attacks have literally made sparkly heart shapes appear around her. Leaning into both that and her tarot cards in her new moveset makes a lot of sense to me.

But, admittedly... I do think it's very odd that her hammer is treated as a secondary element here, rather than having her primarily use her hammer and adding the cards for extra flair. If hitting the attack button made her swing her hammer instead of throwing cards, I'm not sure we'd even be having this discussion right now.

But the tarot-cycle and Amy riding her hammer like a witch's broom are fucking SICK and I will not concede on this point

The thing is, this whole fortune card discourse is but a small piece of a bigger problem. Amy's been a character who needed some work for ages, but there's basically nothing you can do with her without pissing SOMEONE off.

Years of stories where Amy's crush was her primary motivator and Sonic went "Ew, cooties!" have lead many casual fans to believe that being Sonic's obsessive fangirl is Amy's entire personality. At best people might call her Sonic's Minnie Mouse. This isn't just a matter of Amy having haters within the fandom - venture outside of that bubble and you'll realize that this is how MOST video game playing people seem to see her to this day. I don't feel like this is a fair assessment of the character, but this idea didn't come from nowhere. No matter how much good deeply entrenched Sonic fans may see in their old dynamic where Amy perpetually chases Sonic, this is a very real problem that Sonic Team has to contend with for their leading girl. Of course all those games where the way-past-cool protagonist thought Amy was annoyingly clingy and tried to get away from her made people think less of her.

If new stories were to go back to emphasizing Amy's crush on Sonic a little more, they'd probably be taken as confirmation that Amy's just the girl with a crush on Sonic and that this is her entire personality. Conversely, when the crush is played down, you piss off the hardcore SonAmy fans who don't seem to understand that they're Charlie Brown and Sega is Lucy holding the football. You can't win.

And so here we are. In the absence of what was once her defining trait, now reduced to an occasional blush or wink in Sonic's direction, new stories are trying to mine Amy's past for additional material to work with. Having been a thing fans wanted to see for years, right now we're getting a lot of tarot, but we're also getting reminders of her compassionate nature and her desire to go out of her way to help the little guy. This is an ongoing process. I continue to hope that her bubbly, exuberant demeanor can shine more in future stories. Now, I also hope that the tarot stuff gets balanced out a little better with other traits of hers. But I don't want it to go away. I think it's fun.

This course correcting is far from exclusive to Amy. Knuckles is getting stories that remind us that he's a competent fighter, an experienced treasure hunter, and even a self-taught archaeologist after years of him being perceived as either the dumb one or just the guy who stands in front of the Master Emerald all day. And Tails has been getting some stories reminding folks that he's a capable hero in his own right and not just Sonic's timid kid sidekick.

But no supporting character will ever compete with the sheer number of new ideas Sega has tried with Sonic himself. Like Amy, his Frontiers moveset has also given him half a dozen new superpowers that he never had before, from the Cyloop to air-slicing projectile attacks to his own take on Shadow Clone Jutsu and beyond. He's also been a hoverboarder, a swordsman, a time traveler, an Olympic athlete, a racecar driver, cursed with a Flame of Judgment, imbued with alien power, a fucking Werehog with stretchy powers, and on and on and on.

If Sonic can do all that, Amy can try out using a tarot-cycle.

Anyway TL;DR the REAL problem with Amy's current characterization... is where the FUCK is Amy's bestie, Honey the Cat???????

[novantinuum]

Pink Onyx AU- An Analysis and Theory Post, Part 1

[Part 1- You are here!] | [Part 2] | [Part 3] | [Part 4] | [Part 5]

~

Howdy! Those of you who have followed me for a while have probably been seeing my reblogs of the @pink-onyx-au comic made by @ceephorsshitshow. Well, today I wanna share with you something a little different than my usual SU meta… because today I’m gonna analyze this really cool fan work with the same level of seriousness as I do canon. (Like. Seriously. This first post alone is really, really long. I put most of it under a cut.)

This particular comic is a very special one for me to watch unfold, because it’s evident that a lot of deep care and attention to detail has been poured into its creation. There’s fascinating bits of expanded character development to chew into here, as well as plenty of mysteries and lingering questions for us readers to muse and theorize over. If you follow me for Steven Universe and haven’t read this AU yet I highly recommend you check it out. The most basic pitch is that it explores what a fusion between Steven and Jasper might look like, and does a LOT of deep-diving into the similarities and differences of both of those characters’ psyches.

Here’s the episode masterpost on tumblr.

And you can find it on Tapas, too! 

(Note: For the purposes of these posts, I was given permission by the comic artist to post screenshots of various pages where relevant in this discussion. For each frame used I will list the episode and page number for easy reference. Additionally, this post and all future ones on the topic will contain full spoilers for the comic thus far.)

Now with all that introductory stuff out of the way, here we go!

__

So, on the final page of the most recent update, we get one hell of a visual plot bomb for Steven as ol’ Onyx unfuses:

(Episode 9: Page 22)

He’s now visually expressing remnants of his corruption, where before he was not.

And it’s this mysterious plot point in particular that got me wanting to analyze this comic more deeply in the first place. This is completely new for him in this story. Thus far, he’s never expressed any of these remnants when he’s just himself- not in the way Jasper does. So it made me wonder… how might this shift in his appearance play into the ultimate trajectory of the plot? How does Steven suddenly showcasing corruption scars integrate into the larger story that is being spun here about him and Jasper and how they relate to each other?

Well, there’s a lot of comic details and story lore we need to unpack first before I can take my best theorizer’s stab at this. Let’s dig right in.

__

Prelude: The analyst’s treasure is in the speech bubbles

Anyone who’s been a fan of this comic for a while has probably noticed these fun visual details already, but I’m going to take a moment to break down what I believe each speech bubble style signifies for folks who may not have context. It’ll make some of my analysis later a bit easier, too, ahah.

So. Speech bubbles. What kinds do we have here? 

(Episode 1: Page 6)

Style number one: Solid with black text

This style is standard for non-fused characters, and is also utilized when a fused character is speaking whilst in a state of internal harmony.

Steven is pink and Jasper is orange, of course. Onyx’s speech bubbles are a distinct darker pink, and the main three Crystal Gems get their own colors as well. More minor characters get white bubbles.

(Episode 1: Page 10)

Style number two: Scribbly pink lettering overlaying black text

Whenever you see this type of speech bubble, it’s a sign that there is some level of internal discord going on within Steven or Onyx that is related to their diamond side. It usually shows up when one of the two is in pink mode, but from what I can tell this is not a solid rule.

(Episode 2: Page 12)

Style number three: Pink/orange mixed bubbles

This is how we see Onyx talking for a good portion of the early comic. Their speech bubbles are a clean mix of Steven’s pink and Jasper’s orange. And most vitally, the color on the top and the tail signifies which of them is “fronting” at that moment.

(Episode 3: Page 11)

Style number four: White bubble with solid pink text

So far, this style has only been used to represent dialogue that is being spoken by Steven’s gem half exclusively. Which makes things very interesting, as in Steven’s own remembrances of shattering Jasper on the very first page of the comic, the line “I have been holding back!” is shown in this specific style, instead of the scribbly pink lettering that signifies internal discord.

There is one additional sub-style here- and this is the one moment where we get Onyx’s mixed bubble but WITH the solid pink text. 

(Episode 3: Page 11)

I believe these two styles pretty much mean the same thing… only, the white/pink text is either viewed within memory or a metaphoric fusion mindscape where we the viewer are actually “seeing” Steven’s instability, and thus can “see” his gem half as a separate entity there. While, in reality, this is an argument Onyx is having with the disparate pieces of themself.

(Episode 4: Page 9)

Style number five: Pink/orange tye-dye mixed bubbles

When you see that darker shade of pink start dappling into the standard mixed bubbles, this indicates that there are small whispers of Onyx’s true personality beginning to surface, instead of them constantly being wrested back and forth between Steven and Jasper’s conscious control.

(Episode 4: Page 16)

Style number six: Pink/orange mixed bubbles, but with a darker pink tail

From this page onwards, Onyx’s speech bubbles always have their darker pink shading the tail no matter who is fronting. Sometimes there are little lines of another color etched out of it, and sometimes the tail is solid dark pink. I like to believe that when it’s solid, it means that Onyx is just a little closer to reaching a fully harmonious state than when it’s not.

(Episode 9: Page 6)

Style number seven: Onyx speech/thought bubbles with a hint of pink/orange underlying

This style seems to signify moments where it’s still Onyx fully in control of themself and their actions/words/thoughts, but they’re taking subtle influence from their components or accessing their memory a bit.

These are all of the distinct styles I have caught so far, but quite honestly, it would not surprise me if I am missing something. All of this to say… pay close attention to the speech bubbles. They can tell you a lot about Onyx’s state of mind throughout the story.

Now with all this established, I’d like to finish off this first post with my first big discussion point.

__

Question One: What does Jasper actually know about Steven’s “meltdown,” if anything?

The AU author recently solidified this comic’s placement in the SUF timeline in an ask response, saying that the first episode takes place just a week after Steven’s corruption event.

I’m glad this point was clarified, because it was super vital information which deeply influenced the way I analyzed Steven’s actions and responses in my recent re-read… it means this experience is still super raw for him. This is VERY important and we’ll get back to this in more depth later in future posts. But first, let’s explore what Jasper knows of this event.

The full extent of her knowledge is unclear-

(Episode 1: Page 6)

In Episode 1, Steven briefly alludes to his corruption as seen above… referring to it as “[his] meltdown.” Notably, Jasper does not seem to ask any questions about this stray comment. This COULD suggest that she knows what happened to him a week prior via hearsay, but given the context of the rest of the scene and the fact that she’s as isolated as she is out here I genuinely wonder if she thinks Steven’s so-described “meltdown” is his shattering of her.

This idea would make a good deal of sense, as she doesn’t start to make any commentary on the topic of corruption at all until they’re actually fused- with Steven bringing it up first.

(Episode 2: Page 14)

On this page, Steven takes note of Onyx’s very visible spikes (which are Overtly in the same placement as his own when he was corrupted), and initiates the musing upon his own corruption himself.

With the way Jasper phrases her response, the vibe I get is that she somehow gleans a bit of ambient shared knowledge about what happened to him through their fusion.

(Episode 2: Page 15) 

“That human form you wear must have been hiding your markings.” This quote is SUPER vital. We’ll come back to this later on in this post series, too.

(Episode 2: Page 15)

It’s clear that Jasper doesn’t REALLY understand what he went through or what caused it, since she then outright mistakes the casual woes and body pains of organic life as corruption. (As seen above.) 

(Episode 8: Page 4)

But later on, she outright relates to him over their shared experience of past corruption, so she must at least know enough from mere ambient thought-sharing by this point to recognize it happened.  

It’s obvious that she’s barely scratched the surface on fully understanding her fusion partner, though. Neither of them have. It’s gonna take a lot of fusion, comedic mishaps, and genuine conversation to get there. All in good time, I’m sure.

__

Please do join me tomorrow at 7am PST for the next post in this series! This has been a blast to write up and muse upon.

[mosspace]

Dear PTJ, please develope your female characters

Someone complaining abt the way PTJ writes his female characters (truly, a never seen before concept); 1st Afilliate Arc and Cheongliang Arc spoilers (at this point, I think most people are up to date w/ the story, but I'm still gonna put this warning just in case)

Look, I don't take Lookism super seriously. In fact, I think I never did that, mainly thanks to the outlandish concepts it had since the beginning. I'm just here to have fun at this point, and to finally learn the truth about Daniel's 2nd body (omg, it's been 400+ chapters-).

I definitely wasn't expecting to find super well written female characters (even though I definitely should, it's 2024, for God's sake-), something a good number of fighting-related webtoons seem to struggle with. But damn, does Lookism waste its female characters in a way not many have done before.

Since the focus of the story has shifted primarly towards fighting and taking down the Four Crews and Charles Choi, I'm gonna focus on two of the characters most connected to these aspects: Mary Kim and Crystal Choi (ik Lua and Sally are also connected in this way, but I don't really have a lot to say about them and, besides, they've already been covered by another user here on Tumblr)

Mary Kim

The perfect opportunity to get her more involved came up not so long ago, in the ep just before the Allied vs 1st Afilliate fight properly started. We see Mary's reaction upon hearing Vin Jin tell her that Taejin Cheon is alive; we can see her anger asclear as day both in her expression and her words. She literally expresses how much she wants to kill this guy.

And yet, PTJ doesn't make her go and get her revenge. Instead, we have Vin Jin basically saying that he will do it for her because 'his hands are already dirty" (i heavily paraphrased his words, but you get it), which to me, at least, doesn't make sense.

Time and time again we see how close the two of them are in spite of the many jabs they throw at each other. Even without knowing the details of their shared past in Cheongliang (which comes up a couple episodes later), it's very strange that she would let Vin jin go to face him just like that.

By this point, it's already stablished that he murdered somebody, an act that even if deserved by the deceased person, takes a mental toll on the one who does it. Taking this into account, I don't see why Mary would just let who's basically her best friend go through the same thing again, alone. And I especially don't see why she would obey him and stay behind. Her, Mary, the person who never takes Vin Jin's bullshit and always calls him out.

Why not have them both go together? It would be a great opportunity to 1) deal with the last negative reminder of their past, and gain a little bit of closure once and for all, and 2) have Mary finally fight seriously and be able to demonstrate why she's called 'The Empress of Two Seconds' and why she's considered so strong.

We've only seen her take down minor opponents a very, very small number of times, all of which are altercations that don't ever last too long (i guess this last thing is to back up her nickname but, eh)

TLDR: Let Mary dirty her hands as much as Vin. Let them take down together one of the people who has brought them so much pain as the pair of strong besties they are. Stop telling us how strong she is and actually commit to showing it.

__

Crystal Choi

Oh boy, this character-

Like, you mean to tell me that the sole offspring/child of the Big Bad Guy tm the protagonist and his friends are meant to take down, who also happens to be friends with said protagonist, doesn't play a major role on the story? Absolutely insane

And that isn't even taking into account that she also has 2 bodies, which is something only one other character (Daniel, the PROTAGONIST), has and is a major plot point

I'd like to see her be more aware of her privilege as a rich person. Yeah, she was relentlesstly bullied and undermined for her appeareance (which is a horrible thing for anybody to go through) but at least she wasn't poor, too. Does she actually use her money or her status as the daughter of one of the richest men in Korea to change things or solve problems?

Jay literally bought an ambulance of the same type used by the 1st Afilliate so that Allied could sneak in, so why can't Crystal do something similar to help them, too? She helped them during the Gambling Arc by bringing Kouji

I'd like to see her realize and come to terms with the fact that her father's a horrible person. I don't think she knows everything that's going on behind closed doors, but she's definitely smart enough to have noticed that there's something shady going on with his bussiness.

Let her discover the truth. Let her pick either her father's or Daniel's side (the latter which I believe is the most plausible, since she doesn't seem the type to excuse murder, extorsion, etc.). She could act as an informant, helping Allied from the inside.

Heck, you could have her fight, too, if you wanted to. She trained with Gun, after all. And yeah, maybe she's not as strong as the other characters, but we know that she can hold her own against most people. We've seen it.

TLDR: how the hell do you set up a character with so much potential and don't do anything with it. Also, think abt the angst potential!

________________________________________________

Final thoughts, I guess:

I think that Crystal siding with Allied has a higher chance of happening than PTJ letting Mary fight. There's still a good chunk of the story yet to be told, so anything could happen.

I'm actually considering believing that the reason we rarely see the female characters is that they, also, are working secretly to take down the Four Crews and it's gonna get revealed in the last arc for the sake of my sanity

[luminouslumity]

Some more retellings I read recently! I've actually alluded to having read DoS before, but wanted to wait for TSoP to come out before making an actual post first. And unlike last time, I wasn't a big fan of these books. Though in hindsight, I probably should've known that when I saw the cover for DoS; no, but seriously, Greek is a beautiful language, but seeing it used as font will never not hurt the little linguist in me. Also, Nestra... No. Just no. And as for the books themselves? Well, what I like to do when reading or watching an adaptation of a work is to look at it two ways: first, does it work as an adaptation, and second, does it work on its own? And in the case of Heywood... not really for both.

I do want to give credit where credit is due though, I actually did enjoy Heywood's writing as well as how she incorporated some pretty minor details from certain sources that I haven't seen any other retelling use (ex: Menelaus having a son by a slave woman, something that's actually mentioned in the Odyssey), but that's as far as my praise goes, at least as far as her first book is concerned.

Another thing to keep in mind is that her books are one of those retellings that strip away the mythological aspects entirely for the sake of telling a historical narrative and I honestly have yet to find one that actually does this well, because without the presence of gods or monsters, you run into some really stupid contrivances at best and quite a few gaping plot holes at worst. Then we get scenes like Helen literally kicking and spitting on Eileithyia's rock because she doesn't want to get pregnant again and Iphigenia getting sacrificed because the priest Calchas wanted revenge after he blames Agamemnon for his sister's death, and a part of me honestly can't help but feel uncomfortable reading scenes like this, almost like it's mocking an ancient religion that many still acknowledge and practice to this day. Oh, and just so no one misunderstands me, I'm taking issue with Helen basically insulting a goddess specifically, even if that goddess is physically absent.

TSoP does seem to tone this down, or at the very least, it's not to the extent that we saw in DoS from what I noticed, though it's also completely possible there was something I had missed. One moment that does stand out to me though is when Danae internally compares the light coming from a torch fire to a golden shower and then we immediately get the reveal of Perseus' actual father, which I actually thought was pretty funny. It helps that Myron himself was really sweet from the little we knew him, which also makes me sad because there really didn't seem to be any reason for Danae to lie to Perseus about who his father was. It's not like Danae was ashamed of Myron or anything, either; it's one thing for her to want to keep her past a secret from her son for now, it's an entirely other thing to lie to him and say his father was a god!

And speaking of the characters, I actually really liked Claire's version of Helen, I just hate that it comes at the expense of turning her into a neglectful parent even before she runs away with Paris (thankfully, her actions aren't exactly glorified, either; actually, I feel like I would've enjoyed this plotline alot more had it been executed better), as well as turning Menelaus into a distant husband and Leda into an awful mother. Meanwhile, Agamemnon is horrible even long before he sacrifices Iphigenia, and Klytemnestra once again never kills Kassandra in cold blood, even though the entire point of the myth is to show the senselessness of violence and vengeance and how her grief had corrupted her in the years her husband had been away at war.

I am once again asking, what's wrong with being direct?

And as for TSoP, the characters here are certainly a lot more enjoyable personality-wise... but that's also an issue, because it all comes at the expense of turning Perseus—whose entire quest revolved around saving his mother—into an entitled brat. First because he thinks he's a demigod, then because he finds out he's the grandson of a king and has a prophecy to fulfill. In fact, he doesn't even go on a quest at all, just sent away because his mother actually wants to marry Polydectes and he won't stop throwing a tantrum about it. Then we just skip to him meeting Medusa and then killing her after she rejects his feelings for her, "saving" Andromeda from what was basically a symbolic sacrifice, mistaking the hospitality feast he's given for a wedding banquet in honor of himself and his supposed new bride due to the language barrier, killing her actual betrothed before she finally decides to go with him, killing Polydectes when he refuses to stand down, and then nearly killing an old Acrisius before finally listening to what his mother and wife want and letting his grandfather live.

That's it. That's the book.

And I liked the use of the Prophecy Twist at the end and also how Danae refused to forgive her father for what he had done, but really, whatever positives I have to say about either book aren't really enough to outweigh the negatives.

And I mean, compare everything I just said about TSoP to the original myth; an evil king wishes to marry a beautiful princess who'd been rescued from the sea (or he already has married her in some versions), but she has no interest in him, so he sends her demigod child, who was protective of his mother, on a quest to slay an unslayable monster in hopes of getting him out of the way for good. With help from the gods, he manages to succeed and even rescues a princess on the way back after she's nearly sacrificed to a sea monster as punishment for her mother's vanity. Afterwards, he saves his own mother by presenting the head of the monster to the other monster and turning him to stone, before later killing his grandfather by accident! And it wasn't even Medusa's head that took him out, either, but a discus!

See how sweet and simple the original is? But no, instead we get Perseus who keeps throwing these violent tantrums because he isn't getting what he wants, made worse by the fact that his character has about as much depth as a rock. In fact, why have this be a retelling at all? This solution can pretty much apply to just about any other one too, but for TSoP specifically, it could've very easily been about someone who grew up being inspired by the tales of Perseus, maybe even facing a similar situation to him and becoming desperate to escape it, and then later becomes their own downfall by the end of it. That would've been much more interesting, methinks!

And before anyone brings up the Medusa thing, the version everyone talks about actually comes from much later sources, specifically Ovid, who was Roman, and a pretty spiteful one at that; in fairness, the Greek poet Hesiod does describe her as having been a mortal who had sexual relations with Poseidon, but even then, he makes no mention as to whether the encounter was consensual or not, just that they did it in a meadow—yeah, not a temple, a meadow. Other Greek and even some Roman sources also have her always be a monster, even being descended from the mother of monsters herself, Echidna.

As for Athena changing her into a Gorgon for her own protection, I can't find an ancient source anywhere that states this, never mind that it's not like women wouldn't have been immune to her curse, either. And as awesome of a concept as a monstrous figure being seen as a patron for women is... that's not exactly true either. Ancient Greece didn't have women's shelters, for one thing, and though it's true that engravings of her head can be found on buildings, they can be found everywhere else as well, including on tombstones. That's because it was actually used to ward off not any specific human, but evil spirits instead. Because nothing was seen as scarier than a Gorgon. Also, there were several deities whom women prayed to (and still do!) for protection, including Athena herself, so praying to Medusa—who they would've considered a monster—wouldn't have really made much sense. Again, cool concept, but it kinda falls apart once you think about it for more than five seconds.

But yeah, these certainly aren't the worst retellings I've read, but still there's nothing particularly outstanding about them, either. Not in a good way, at least.

[deerydear]

Kay Jamison:

"Both my mother and father strongly encouraged my interests in writing poetry and school plays, as well as in science and medicine. Neither of them tried to limit my dreams, and they had the sense and sensitivity to tell the difference between a phase I was going through and more serious commit­ments. Even my phases, however, were for the most part tolerated with kindness and imagination. Being partic­ularly given to strong and absolute passions, I was at one point desperately convinced that we had to have a sloth as a pet.

My mother, who had been pushed about as far as possible by allowing me to keep dogs, cats, birds, fish, turtles, lizards, frogs, and mice, was less than wildly enthusiastic. My father convinced me to put together a detailed scientific and literary notebook about sloths. He suggested that, in addition to providing practical information about their dietary needs, living space, and veterinary requirements, I also write a series of poems about sloths and essays about what they meant to me, design a habitat for them that would work within our current house, and make detailed observations of their behavior at the zoo; if I did all this, he said, my parents would then consider finding a sloth for me.

What they both knew, I am sure, was that I was sim­ply in love with the idea of a strange idea, and that given some other way of expressing my enthusiasms, I would be quite content. They were right, of course, and this was only further driven home by actually watching the sloths at the National Zoo. If there is anything more boring than watching a sloth — other than watching cricket, perhaps, or the House Appropriations Commit­tee meetings on C-SPAN — I have yet to come across it. I had never been so grateful to return to the prosaic world of my dog, who, by comparison, seemed Newto­nian in her complexity.

My interest in medicine, however, was lasting, and my parents fully encouraged it. When I was about twelve years old, they bought me dissecting tools, a microscope, and a copy of Gray’s Anatomy; the latter turned out to be inordinately complicated, but its presence gave me a sense of what I imagined real Medicine to be.

The Ping- Pong table in our basement was my laboratory, and I spent endless late afternoons dissecting frogs, fish, worms, and turtles; only when I moved up the evolu­tionary ladder in my choice of subjects and was given a fetal pig — whose tiny snout and perfect little whiskers finally did me in — was I repelled from the world of dis­section.

Doctors at the hospital at Andrews Air Force Base, where I volunteered as a candy striper, or nurse’s aide, on weekends, gave me scalpels, hemostats, and, among other things, bottles of blood for one of my many homemade experiments. Far more important, they took me and my interests very seriously. They never tried to discourage me from becoming a doctor, even though it was an era that breathed, If woman, be a nurse. They took me on rounds with them and let me observe and even assist at minor surgical procedures. I carefully watched them take out sutures, change dress­ings, and do lumbar punctures. I held instruments, peered into wounds, and, on one occasion, actually removed stitches from a patient’s abdominal incision.

I would arrive at the hospital early, leave late, and bring books and questions with me: What was it like to be a medical student? To deliver babies? To be around death?

I must have been particularly convincing about my interest on the latter point because one of the doc­tors allowed me to attend part of an autopsy, which was extraordinary and horrifying. I stood at the side of the steel autopsy table, trying hard not to look at the dead child’s small, naked body, but being incapable of not doing so. The smell in the room was vile and saturating, and for a long while only the sloshing of water and the quickness of the pathologist's hands were saving distrac­tions. Eventually, in order to keep from seeing what I was seeing, I reverted back to a more cerebral, curious self, asking question after question, following each answer with yet another question. Why did the pathol­ogist make the cuts he did? Why did he wear gloves? Where did all the body parts go? Why were some parts weighed and others not?

Initially it was a way of avoiding the awfulness of what was going on in front of me; after a while, how­ever, curiosity became a compelling force in its own right. I focused on the questions and stopped seeing the body. As has been true a thousand times since, my curiosity and temperament had taken me to places I was not really able to handle emotionally, but the same curiosity, and the scientific side of my mind, generated enough distance and structure to allow me to manage, deflect, reflect, and move on."

-- Mrs. Jamison's memoir: An Unquiet Mind

[frogcatwcbiologyreweite]

Hello, you can call me Froggy!

I am bisexual & Gender fluid teen from Poland,15 years old, and use She/They   pronouns. Sorry for grammar and punctuation errors, English is not my native language, and unfortunately I have dyslexia and dysorthography, but I will do my best for my work to be understandable for you! :) In this side-blog I will post Warrior Cats characters designs, as well as a lot of things from my wc-Biology rewrite, I will probably also analysis warriors books and stuff. 

This is more of my ‘main blog’ then my actual main blog @frogcat7 where I don’t really do anything, perhaps I will post my other xenofiction designs there but I am not sure yet. But I have also other side-blog @frogkingtheorginal where I post a whole lot of things (by far most are wof doodles). I don’t really care for spoilers, but I don't feel confident talking about topics I don't know well yet, so here are warriors books I have read already: tpb, tnp, po3, oots, dotc (3 books out of 6), SE: Tallstar’s R, Yellowfang’s S, Crookedstar’s P, Bluestar’s P, Firestar’s Q, SkyClan’s D, Crowfeather’s T, N: Cloudstar’s J, Mapleshade’s V, Goosefeather’s C, Blackfoot’s R, Leafpool’s W, Mistystar’s O, Dovewing’s S, M: Tro Scourge, Tigerstar and Sasha, Ravenpaw’s P, Graystripe’s A, SkyClan atS, FG: The Ultimate Guide, ShS: Spottedleaf’s Honest Answer.

So, now I’ll tell you quickly about the rules of my blog, but don’t worry, there wouldn’t be a lot of them 🙂: 

Do: 

> I am very open for questions 😁, and I would really love to see conversations and debates in the commentary section :), Respond to posts as much as you want, that will really motivated me.

> I would try to respond to as many questions as possible, though I can't promise to get to all of them. 

> If you see a mistake, or something I may do better, don’t be shy and write to me constructive criticism, this project is my first as big one🙂. You can write your ideas I will appreciate it as well.

> “Can I use X in my project?” Of course, but don’t forget about credit 😁!

Don’t:

> I am only human and a minor one in addition, so, I can make mistakes, so, please don’t be mean, I will block mean accounts. 

> I respect your opinion, so, I expect you to respect mine. Everyone have different look on warriors characters, books or plot, so, live and let live!

> Peadophiles and so, do not interact, (such entities will be blocked as well).

> The biggest crime (for me) is if you use my work and say its yours. This is not only harmful to me, but also to your creativity, so, remember about it!

ASKBOX STATUS: open  😁/        currently at: 0 asks

                         Biology, Details, Headcanons!

My main and most comprehensive passion project is The Warrior Cats Biology Rewrite, a correction of Erin Hunter’s Warrior cats series which will take place in the western part of US, and in particular in the region of northern California and southern Oregon, it mostly aims to: 

> Correct the natural world of Warriors. So, eliminate all the weird, terribly unnatural things that they made in canon (so turtles in mountains, hyper aggressive foxes etc.)

> Spice up Warrior cats belief system and mythology, and diversity  it a bit more to not be so, plain and boring. And to create more interest to them thru legends and myths

> Create more details and story to the timeline of Filed Guides and basically everything before TPB, as well as create more lore and sympathy to the long forgotten background characters [ I don’t really think (at least by far) that I will do it in the ‘long post’ form, it’s more likely that all of this will be thrown into the Hedcanons folder]

> I will try to improve plot later (probably) but it seems to me that I will not take it very seriously, because there are just too many great blogs that are already doing really great job. And I’m not really interested in this that much. I just wanted to say that no cat will be deleted in my rewrite, and sooner I will add OC to it, but I will try not to do that, and better work with cats that are already there.

So, for the long time I wanted to do a Warriors rewrite, But I also wanted to make a designs blog, so, I combine it. For the characters I want to do all of them, and by all I mean really ALL, not only main and background cats, but every creature that has a page on the wiki, also the not named ones like The Stranger from dotc, or The Rat King. But also to give more atmosphere to what I do, I planned to draw all the really, really forgotten cats, that some of even don’t have a page about them. Like The random ginger molly with kittens from Sun Trial, or Thunder’s siblings. 

In this rewrite I will also use ideas made by others, as I find them magnificent. Those things are: @cryptidclaw ‘s Titles Idea and their meaning, and mostly a lot of @bonefall ‘s stuff, like the Clan and Tribe Meow, The politics ideas, so Fire Alone, Thistle Law etc. and other cool stuff. And I'm sure I'll change or expand some of these things. I will treat them a bit like a progenitor for my own projects. When I will use something from someone, I will tag this person’s name. But when there will be a coincidence (’cause there can be one), like in my rewrite Frost’s and Brindle’s mother is Trans FtM Tawnyspots and their sire is Featherwhisker, and in Bonefall’s Feather is also their sire, I will not tag them. 

Sorry ‘cause I won’t post stuff regularly. And I have big problem with motivation but I wish I won’t lose it on this project 🙂

And in the end I just want to say Big thanks to all blogs that are an inspiration to me, and that’s being @cryptidclaw , @fatal-rewrites-warriors , and @bonefall , they are really cool, and if you want I really recommend checking them out!

[zeenmrala]

By The Light Of The Second Moon

A Darth Maul x F/AFAB!Reader Fanfiction

chapter seven: of the rains and of the dreams

{previous chapter} / {next chapter} / {fic masterlist}

{read chapter on ao3} / {read entire fic on ao3}

CHAPTER SUMMARY: You go home and face the consequences of your recklessness. The moons rise, the rain falls - and you return to the woods. RATING: Explicit. This work is strictly for those 18+ due to sexual content. MINORS, DO NOT INTERACT. WORD COUNT: 9k CONTENT/TRIGGER WARNINGS: Angst, anxiety. Smut, fingering, unprotected PiV sex, rough sex, biting, bruises/marking, slight bdsm, pain kink, praise kink, choking, controlled/delayed orgasm, female!receiving oral sex, dominant!maul. CHAPTER SONGS: good in red, the midnight, keep on loving you, cigarettes after sex. NOTES: Again, long chapter...I can’t seem to stop myself when I write the spice! ♡

Chapter 7 Of The Rains And Of The Dreams

When you wake up, you are alone. Your eyes flutter open, and you are not in your bedroom, so you immediately jolt awake, gasping as you sit upright, a spike of anxiety shaking you out of your sleep – because you are…still in the woods? You begin to remember last night, everything in swift, vivid detail, and as you begin to doubt your incredible and strange reality, once more the aches across your body confirm to you the truth. You look around, and slowly, still under the heavy haze of such a deep sleep, become aware of two things. One, that you are not where you fell asleep, and two, that are you no longer naked. You are next to the old, rotten log, the hiding place for your secret sketchpad. You reach inside and run your fingers across it, relaxing slightly at its presence. Next to the log are your shoes, and underneath them is your completely ruined dress. Confused, you look down at yourself and see that you are in a long, black robe.

Maul.

You sigh and raise the palms of your hands to your face. This whole time, he really could hear what you were thinking. Well, in a way, at least. Maker, how is that real? You take a long, deep breath to smother the embarrassment that unfurls within you. The anxiety of this entire situation starts to creep through your bloodstream with each beat of your heart. Stars, it feels like everything happened so quickly. How did he –

You pause, remembering that severe glare and his instruction to never speak about it. You have never seen his expression so grave, and the coldness that radiated from his eyes felt so urgent, and terrifying. He didn’t say you couldn’t think about it though, right? But if he can hear thoughts, if he can somehow choke you without even touching you – who else can do that? What else can he do? His…abilities – are they a common occurrence in people off world, is it a species thing? Or is it something else? Like many times in your life, you curse your own ignorance, your complete lack of awareness of anything other than your little life here. You feel in your bones though, that this whole situation and anything concerning him and his being here…that is not common or ordinary - anything but. You swallow down a knot in your throat as you consider that this is knowledge that could be fatal. Are you overreacting? Or are you under reacting? You stomach turns at the thought of the latter – you are certain that Maul's sincerity, his seriousness concerning your awareness of his being here, of what he can do - it would not feel so dire if it was not significant in some way. You sigh a defeated groan and fall back to the ground, squeezing your eyes shut as you try to process all that has happened. When you open your eyes again, you are gazing up to the sky which is framed by the swaying trees. The sun is high and almost completely hidden behind thick, grey clouds. Which tells you that it is midday. And you haven’t been home yet.

Stars and Planets.

You really wake up this time. How long were you asleep? It’s past midday and you need to get home, now. And come up with an incredibly believable cover story and fast.

You slip on your shoes and grab your dress – then hesitate before you leave, considering bringing your sketchpad too, but settle on leaving it here. You will certainly have a lot to deal with today, and worrying about where it is and who could see it cannot be another problem for this afternoon. So you leave it there, and you run towards the clearing – you have decided that you will go to the pond just beyond, and use the reflection to fix the robe and your hair so it does not look as strange and messy as it almost certainly does right now. Because you have to walk home, in the daylight – so many people will see you. How will you ever get away with this? And you cannot even consider trying to wear your dress, it’s entirely wrecked. But how can you possibly wear Maul’s robe? You never wear black. It will be so obvious that you have been with someone else, and if your Father finds out, you will never be able to sneak out ever again. That thought terrifies you, almost enough to want to hide in the woods forever and never ever go back into town. You groan, shaking some courage into yourself and hurry your pace – with each step you take, your panic begins to rise, until you make it to the clearing.

And his ship isn’t there anymore.

You cannot ignore the acute pang in your chest at the empty space, and your severe disappointment turns your stomach. Would he really leave…after all of that? You breathe through the dizzying upset and confusion you are feeling, and focus solely on getting to the pond, and then on the feel of your own fingers as you braid your hair into a more presentable state. You then experiment with the black robe that Maul has left you in, fastening a belt out of your ruined dress to bring it in at the waist, tying it tightly to your body and shuffling it into a better fit. You then rip further into your dress to make a sorry excuse of a shawl, which you can drape over the upper half of your body, making it appear as though the robe is a skirt. The weather is beginning to rapidly cool, and the rains seem closer than you first thought, so you look believable wrapped up like this - at least somewhat passable. And more importantly, the make-shift shawl is covering your neck, where you now notice dark, angry marks that trail very clearly across your skin. Kriff. How did this man make you so careless?

And where is he?

You groan at your softness, cursing yourself for how much you care, how attached you have grown to your new friend so soon - when deep down, you know nobody stays for long around here. It wouldn’t be surprising if he has left, what with the implication of what he accidentally revealed last night, and with the severe weather looming. You feel such an earnest sense of loss, not just at him being gone, but at the grief of everything you could have learnt from him. You are naïve for tying your hope to this mysterious and ominous man, but for the first time in your life, you have experienced real excitement. And you almost got to look inside of his starship.

Almost.

You shake yourself out of your melancholy – Stars, you think, he may not even be gone for good. His ship can disappear, he can read minds. Nothing is out of the realm of possibility at this point. You wander over to where his ship should be, and reach out to touch it, because maybe it is just invisible, hiding. It is not. You feel incredibly stupid and begin your walk out of the forest. If you are somehow able to get away with not coming home last night, you’ll return this evening, and hope that he has come back. Maker, how will you explain this away – you keep trying to come up with something, anything, but there is nothing. You are at a loss. You hope that your Father will be in surgery, that your neighbours won’t be looking, that you can slip by unnoticed. You sigh, certain that the next hour will be one of the most awful of your existence.  

--

You are met with a couple of strange looks as you walk back, but it is not as catastrophic as you thought it would be. You had envisioned the entire town, pointing, laughing, speculating, your Father ready to lock you inside of a cage to rot, with no hope of ever getting out again. You hope that the odd looks you have received are because you are simply wearing a tatty shawl and the colour black. Most women here do not dream of ever wearing it, sticking instead to tones of green, blue and cream. It hasn’t ever struck you as odd, until now, as you wear it for the first time.

Just as you are about to turn the corner to the road that the surgery sits on, you are roughly grabbed and pulled away. As you go to scream at the shock of it, a hand covers your mouth. You panic and thrash in silence as you are dragged behind one of the neighbouring buildings, your back pushed up against the wall. Your eyes widen as you finally grasp a hold of your senses to properly look at your attacker, see who is grabbing you so roughly and it’s…your brother?

You shove against him and push his hand off your mouth, “Fenn, what the – ”

“I covered for you.” He interrupts aggressively, though he has a softness in his expression.

You stutter, “W-what?”

“I made excuses. As to why you weren’t here, this morning.”

You are flooded with immediate relief, and before you can thank him, he begins to hassle you.

“You were just going to walk in? Seriously? What was your excuse going to be?”

Your cheeks burn and you shove him further away, pulling your make-shift shawl around yourself tighter. You don’t say anything. You still had no idea what your excuse was going to be. You really hoped your Father would be in surgery so that you could sneak in unseen.

He sighs and rolls his eyes, pinching where his nose meets his brow in irritation. “Exactly, yeah…” He huffs, then puts his hands to his hips and looks you up and down.

“Father thinks I sent you out early, really early this morning to collect last minute materials to weather proof the house. I had to make up ridiculous excuses as to why you weren’t here at sunrise, why you had to go so early, when half the town was still asleep.” He pauses, and when you still do not reply, he continues. “Then when you still didn’t come back, I said I had sent you out with Mellie to assist her with her work, and then, to start preparations for when the baby comes - and then after that became implausible, I said I had sent you to deliver some medicines for our more vulnerable clients, because the rains look as if they are coming early.”

You nod, “that works, that makes sense…” You exhale in relief. “Thank you, so much.” “Where - where were you? And what…” His eyes inspect you closer. He tuts your name in disbelief. “What in the galaxy are you wearing? That very obviously is not your clothing.”

He hears his own words back and then shakes his head. “Actually I don’t want to know.”

“Thank you, Fenn,” you say again, “I really mean it. Thank you. I was really stupid, I made a mistake and stayed out way too…”

“Look, you deserve your own life.” That tugs at your heart. You didn’t think he really…cared. At all. You have both drifted over the past few years, fatherhood taking up all of his time.

He continues, “I really try…I want…I hate how miserable you look in the morning when you don’t get out the night before –”

“What did you just say?” Your jaw drops.

“What, you don’t think I see you steal away into the night? You are sneaky, I’ll give you that. Not that sneaky, though.”

You freeze, completely dumb-founded that he knows that. The anxiety that had melted away has come back in full force. “Who else knows?”

“My wife, but she knows everything.”

“Not Father, or Aunt Lyn?”

“No.”

“Stars, Fenn, you are playing with my nerves.”

“How do you think I managed to get a girl like Mellie to marry me? When I was cooped up in the surgery all day, every day?”

You pause as the realisation clicks in. “You snuck out too? To court Mellie?”

He nods, “yes, and years before you even started doing it.” Then he sighs. “I want the best for you. I want you to be happy. I really do. But you don’t understand how seriously he takes…you don’t know…” he looks away and brings his hands to his head in frustration.

You feel incredibly cross. You snap, “maybe because no one has ever told me why - nobody ever told me what happened to him to make him like this. All I know…is that I look like her. That’s it, and that cannot be the full story. Please, just tell me what happened.”

He looks as if he just might. As if he might finally confess what happened to your Mother, why your family is as paranoid and as strict and weird as it is, but he just sighs and shakes his head.

“Not now. I can see what. What you have been…” He stops, awkward. “Just be careful. Please.”

You nod, “I will…I am. I’m sorry.”

He sighs again. “It’s okay. It’s fine.” He crosses his arms. “Now, to make my story seem legitimate, you need to do everything I said you have, and fast. I’ve put them in your room, the medicines. Deliver them first, and make serious small talk with the clients so that they can vouch for you, so that the story seems closer to the timeline I came up with.”

You nod, and before you talk again, he continues, “I’ll distract Father, ask something surgery related, as you get changed and get out of the house.”

“You’ve really thought this through…” You smile at him, gratefully, shocked by your brother’s kindness.

“I know what this is like…” He sighs. “The sooner you are out of his house, the better…I know you don't want to get married, I know you hate the idea - but it might be for the best. You can at least escape the surgery. Whoever you've been meeting over the past few months, surely he can't be so bad?”

You look down at the ground as awareness to what he’s implying snakes its way into your heart. He thinks you’ve been regularly sneaking out to meet someone, a man from the town. Every night when you have wandered the woods sketching, every time you have snuck away to chat to an off-worlder. He thinks you have been stealing moments with a secret lover. Who he wants you to marry, so you can get away from your Father.

“I can let you stay with us, with Mellie, Lia and I. So you can go out, see him freely, maybe even talk to him about it…”

Your stomach drops as you feel the weight of his implication. Stars and planets, how can he not see, that if that even were the case, that would be no freedom at all? To be married here, to be even more severely rooted to this waste of a planet - it would be to live under the roof of another oppressive, paranoid man. You are sure of it - the idea suffocates you. As you secretly reel at his mistake, he continues to talk.

“I will tell Father you are learning more textile skills whilst helping prepare for the baby. You can stay for a few nights now, like that one summer before, when Lia was born. I’ll just say you are helping us prepare, okay? As long as you do, help Mellie, I mean.”

“Of course, Fenn, thank you, of course.” You hug him, so grateful, yet so disheartened. All this trouble, this kindness – he thinks he’s helping to liberate you from your Father’s madness. He is, of course, helping somewhat – yet, nowhere near as much as he believes. Without a doubt, any temporary reprieve from your Father’s control is a blessing. Even if it feels somewhat hollow now, because your reason for potentially sacrificing the freedoms you do have…Maul, he might not be here anymore, and the rains will pour soon, and you will have to return to your Father’s house either way - to your monotonous life, destined for nothing, no purpose. You will use the precious time your brother has gifted you, to make the most of sketching, of the woods, before the world is once again drowning in the rains, and you are confined in the walls of your bedroom, spending your days unspectacularly withering away, out of sight of the larger galaxy.

You and your brother head towards the surgery, and just before you reach it, you stop and ask, without really thinking –

“Are you not going to ask me who he is?”

Fenn just shakes his head.

“You deserve that privacy - him - to be yours alone, for now. At least.”

--

As you run around town with a huge basket full of medicine, you ponder how you have been so fortunate. You cannot believe how lucky you are. To have gotten away with staying out, to have had your brother cover for you, and get you out of the messy hole that you, impulsive and irresponsible, had dug yourself into

Fenn knew. All this time, sneaking around, disappearing into the Great Wood night after night. He knew. And he didn’t say anything. You are reeling for the rest of the afternoon whilst you work through his tasks meticulously, so that your Father will have no idea at all about your whereabouts last night. Everything seems to have slipped into place so easily and smoothly – and Maker, you are grateful.

Once you are back in your room after having made all of your deliveries, you are sweating from running around like a complete lunatic to keep to Fenn's fictitious timeline, and also from having to wear a scarf to cover the marks on your neck. It could have been much worse though, at least the baking sun is hidden by the clouds. They get thicker each hour, and it would not surprise you if the rains began tonight.

You pack to stay with Fenn, and you hide Maul’s robe at the bottom of the overnight bag, alongside more of the contraceptive concoction (better to be prepared if Maul is still here). You grab your pouch of drawing tools for when you get your sketchpad back, and your make-shift shawl and the remains of your ruined dress you disguise as material that was spare after doing textile work with Mellie. Thank the Stars for her and your brother.

When you face your Father, just before you leave to stay with them, he gives no indication that he is aware of anything other than what Fenn has told him. He simply requests that you give his best wishes to his daughter-in-law. You keep your cool, and for that, you are proud of yourself.

Once you get to their small, homely abode, you spend some time with Lia, and help Mellie with the chores so she can rest. She looks like she is about to burst, and you ponder how quickly the past month has gone by, since the last rains. You take another look at little Lia before Fenn sweeps her off to bed, then at Mellie, and she seems so tired. She must be ready to give birth any day now. Once everything is done, you wish them goodnight, and go to take a bath, and finally, properly look at yourself in the mirror.

Your skin is littered in bruises and marks. You gasp at the sight as you peel away the layers of clothing that shield them. The result of what you and Maul have done together blemishes your skin in trails across your entire body. You take a moment to identify the source of each – running gentle fingers across them - the discolouration on your neck from his teeth, the bruises on your arms from his strong hands, the dark blemishes that pepper the inside of your thighs…

You feel that heat pool in the bottom of your abdomen again, and a sweet flutter between your legs at the memory of his face between them - and you curse yourself. Now? Again? After everything that has happened, that has almost happened and all you can do is…think about him, and his body. And as your thoughts stream on ahead, you think about how strange he is, about what he can do – and finally, how he may no longer be on world. You huff a dejected sigh. You wash yourself and change into a clean dress, one with longer sleeves and a higher neckline. If he is there, you vow to yourself that he is not ruining another of your garments. You smile at the memory of last night, him ripping the dress from your frame with such ease. Kriff, you want him to be there, if only for another night of…relations. You blush and glance out of the window of the small room Mellie works from - this is your room for the remainder of your time here. By now, the second moon is rising into the sky, and the streets are quiet. You can hear the quiet pitter patter of the rain as it begins to fall – and then you have a deep, stomach turning realisation - you left your sketchpad, out in the woods, in that rotten log, to the mercy of the incoming storm. It’s going to be ruined. How could you forget about that? You start to really panic, and get ready to leave. You throw Maul’s robe over your dress, and pull the large hood over your head. You should have gotten a coat or robe that was black a long time ago, it would have made making sneaking out at night that much easier.

Just as you reach the door, you hear Fenn clear his throat.

“Will you be coming back tonight?”

Will you? You have no idea. It depends entirely on what you find when you reach the clearing. If he isn’t there, how can you possibly stay out all night, in this weather, alone? But shouldn’t you try to at least keep up the ruse that your brother has pinned on you?

“I do not know.” You smile.

He rolls his eyes, marking your indecision as modesty. “Don’t wait until midday to decide.”

You roll your own eyes back at him, and he grins, then says, “stay out, all night. And tomorrow, if you like. I’ll make sure no one finds out.”

You wish him thank you and goodnight, and then thank him once again. A whole night and day to yourself…right in the middle of a downpour. You curse the rain between seasons as you head out into the night, the second moons light darkened by fat rain clouds that greedily horde the visible horizon.  

--

The walk is wet, long, and tedious. You move as quickly as you can without slipping and falling on your face – kriff, you really do hate the rains - especially for the first few nights as it is always heavy and relentless. You manoeuvre through the woods as quickly as you can, your distress starting to rise at how quickly the rain has dampened everything. All the work you have put into that damned book, the faces you have sketched over the years, everything you’ve worked so hard to collect – it could be nothing but a water logged mess by the time you get there.

When you eventually get to the log, you are soaking wet, and the roar of the violent cascade of rain rings in your ears as you reach inside – you feel around, and the sketchpad isn’t there. Did you move it? No, you definitely left it here this morning…you curse loudly, throwing your hood down and scrambling around, searching for it. It was definitely here. As the grief of losing something so precious to you begins to torment your mind – you feel his weighty stare, and then hear that familiar, teasing voice among the thunder of the rain.

“Looking for something?”

You turn around, and in the darkness of the weather he appears as a shadow - you can only see the glow of his rich, yellow eyes. The lack of moonlight makes everything so much harder to see. You try to contain the sheer joy you are feeling at knowing he is still here, not wanting him to pick up on it – you feel somewhat paranoid, so aware of how he can sense whatever you think. You do smile though. You cannot help it.

“I assume you are in possession of – ”

“Yes.” He cuts you off. “I took it.”

“Why?”

“Because it is raining.” He throws back his hood, and you can make out the silhouette of him as your eyes adjust. He has such a regal, solid frame, and holds himself with such conviction – the memory of him so strong on top of you makes you shiver with longing. He continues, “and for some reason or another, you did not take it yourself when I moved you here this morning.”

Then he begins to walk away, and you scramble to follow him. He makes his way to the clearing, where there are no trees to protect you both from the full pelt of the cold rain. The moons blue light is broken by dark clouds, but there is slight illumination, and you can see him better. You bring yourself to say, “thank you – and thank you for leaving me the robe.”

He runs his eyes over your body, the way he did when you first met – yet now the raw lust in his eyes is much more apparent to you. It almost makes your mouth water, the deliciousness of his gaze ravaging your curves almost too much for you to bear. But you try not to get too ahead of yourself – though he makes it difficult for you with his reply.

“You look good in it,” he purrs.

You simper at him, then you turn and point to the empty space where his ship was.

“I thought you had left, when I woke up,” you confess as you turn back to him.

He tilts his head slightly, and makes his way toward you, slowly and cautiously.

“There will be storms. I did not think it best to leave it surrounded by trees.”

“Still, everyone usually leaves for the rains.”

He reaches you and gently touches your cheek, though there is more hesitation to it than you expected. “I still have work to do that requires my being here.”

You slightly furrow your eyebrows in curiosity.

“Do not ask…” he warns, trailing his fingers down your face and gripping your chin, tilting your eyes up to his. “But…” you do not know how to phrase it. You want to ask him about it all, about how he did what he did to you, how he can somehow see inside your mind…

His expression is so somber, and you suddenly cannot stand it. You cannot stand that the one connection you have made beyond the confines of your small planet, this wonderful thing that you both have here - this has been tainted by an ominous and unknown seriousness, an implied danger, another secret you cannot know. Stars, you detest it entirely.

What you have is so genuine, so real, so raw. So rare. For you, at least. So you refuse to allow it to be ripped apart by whatever is beyond your control. You raise your eyes to his, and smirk.   

“I was only going to ask how you could be so cruel,” you tease, your eyes wander down his face, and then linger on his bottom lip, the inside of which is unmarked by those striking tattoos. You want to kiss him. You want to feel his tongue, hot and wet in your mouth.

“Explain, lady,” he says. You lean into his lips and whisper, “how could you be so cruel, to make me so excited about seeing your starship, only to remove it when I arrive to do so. And in this weather too?”

He chuckles, the sound sending waves of arousal between your legs, and images of the last two nights flash before your eyes. He pulls you in but moves his lips to your neck, kissing your skin gently and whispers in your ear. “That’s not why you have come back,” he smirks, before adding, “control your thoughts, wicked girl.”

You pull away, then whisper, “then stop listening.”

He returns his hands back to where they were on your face previously, only harsher. Then he covers your mouth with one hand, and snakes the other around the back of your neck.

“Shhh…” he hushes you, bringing his face closer to yours. “It is not that simple, lady. You are…rather loud,” he says quietly. He removes his hand from your mouth, to gently rest it on your waist. The weight of his touch makes you feel so sensitive, and as he leans forward and kisses you for the first time tonight, the rain beating down on the two of you, you melt into the warmth of his lips. The hot spark of desire that has been so ignored and neglected today, beaten into submission by anxiety and dread, comes back to life. You moan gently at the feel of it beginning to burn. But first…

“Where are you holding my sketchpad hostage?” You whisper, then smile widely.

He returns your smile, “somewhere safe.”

You say nothing, raising a brow at him to elaborate.

“It is in my ship.”

“Which isn’t here.”

“No.”

You sigh dramatically, looking up at him. He is smirking down at you, both of his arms now tight around your body. You feel like you should care more about your sketchpad, to follow up and make him hand it over - you should, but you cannot, not when you are in his arms like this. Maker, you want him. You want him right now, out in the open, under the rain. But a small part of you also aches to get your sketchpad back, to see inside his starship, to get out of this forsaken weather.

“Make a decision lady, where do you want to be?” He asks, aware of your internal conflict. He begins to kiss down your neck. He pauses as he notices the harsh, dark marks from his teeth the night before, and he lightly growls, and the sound goes straight through you, and your legs almost shake from the desire it stirs within you. “I like the look of that,” he admits quietly.

Amidst the hazy, erotic thoughts rumbling through your mind, you remember that you do not need to go back tonight. There is nothing to say you cannot have him here, and then also in his ship. And so you smile.

“Both,” you say gently, then pull back so you can look at him, at his lips again. “I have nowhere else I need to be tonight.” And then you grab his face and kiss him hard, throwing your weight into it. His hands grip on to you in response, and you cling to the heat of his skin as you suck on his tongue, bite his lip, and lose yourself in the embrace.

“Maul…” you mutter in between his hot, hungry kisses, your hands gripping onto the wet material of his robe. “Maul, I…” “Yes, lady,” he pauses his kiss to ask, “what do you want?”

“I want…” you stumble on your words at the feel of his fingers squeezing your waist. “I want you, to tell me what you want,” you mewl.

He pulls away from you and roughly turns you around, his hands grasping on to your chest, his mouth biting into your neck again. You lean back into him and moan at the change of pace as he brings a hand to your throat. He grabs onto your dripping wet hair with his other hand, the rain pouring mercilessly onto the two of you in the clearing. He tugs your head to the side, pulls your ear to his lips.

“I want to have my way with you, wicked girl.”

He kisses at your ear, and then bites. You cry out and shudder at the pain of it, but he holds you still from behind. He hushes you, moving his hands down your body slowly, feeling your flesh by squeezing you through your wet clothing. His hot breath caresses your neck, and you can feel him rubbing his hardness roughly into your backside. You whine, the ache between your legs growing more and more fierce.

“Do it then,” you reply sharply.

He pulls the robe off of your body, tossing it aside, then darkly laughs.

“Always so impatient…”

You lean further into him, craving his warmth and hard body so much more now, suddenly so cold…

“Oh,” he remarks with a tut, running his hands over your chest and arms, which are fully covered by your most unassuming, prudent dress.

“Modesty does not suit you,” he grumbles, gently moving his fingers to the back of your dress and begins to undo it with tame fingers. “You are much too vicious for something so conservative, do you not think, wicked girl?”

You practically melt at his voice, and his hot fingers feel so nice on your skin as he slowly pulls the soaking garment from your body. “I know what you are really like,” he mutters under his breath as you step out of the dress, kicking off your shoes and turning to face him, entirely naked and vulnerable to the elements.

“Now, that is much better,” he murmurs, taking in your bare body under his gaze as he shrugs off his own robe - he is already half naked beneath it. You move into his arms, craving his hot skin, as you are so cold now, bare in the downpour. He grabs your throat in a rigid fist, and the other hand he places between your legs. You groan as his fingers tease at and then find your slick entrance, and as a string of encouraging moans fall from your lips - he pushes inside you, kissing you gently on your forehead as he does so.

Then you are abruptly on the ground - in a sharp and swift motion he pushes you down hard into the floor. His hands are now roughly working your sex, and you moan a blur of obscenities into his mouth, using your own hands to hold his face as he glares violent lust into your eyes, watching you writhe uncontrollably beneath his dizzying touch.

“Spread your legs wider,” he demands, his voice huskily cold, and you obey, giving him all the space he needs to drive his fingers in and out of you, relentlessly fast. He then kisses your neck roughly and drags his teeth over your already sore bruises. You cry out and continue to moan under the sharp pain of it. His mouth moves to your breasts, and he runs his tongue and teeth over your nipples. You arch your back, leaning into the warmth of his mouth. “Please,” you cry, entirely overcome with lust, your cunt aching for him, for more of him. “Please, fuck me, please.” You feel him remove one of his hands from your cunt, and then a moment later you can feel him, his cock, so hard and hot pushing at your entrance. He moves both of his hands to grope at your chest, then one is around your throat, and he’s putting his weight on you – he is so hot, and heavy on top of you, it feels intensely good. His cock nudges further and further into you.

“You need me so badly, don’t you?” He growls softly, “I know you do, wicked girl.”

You moan a “yes” and he kisses you, then demands, “tell me, tell me how desperately you want this.”

You whine pathetically, so wild for him - then you obey, and beg for him to fuck you. “Maul, I need you, please, please take me, please fuck me now, please.”

He replies quietly. “Good girl,” and he drives his cock into you fully. As he begins to fuck you, ruthless from the start, he groans such a loud and animalistic noise it makes your cunt clamp around him. “More,” you cry through gritted teeth, and he growls in return, squeezing your throat. You claw at his back, and wrap your legs around him, wanting to be as close to him as you can.

How does he do this you? Maker, you are completely undone beneath him, so brazen in your desire, submitting entirely to his strength – and it feels so good, so right, and you swear that this is worth risking everything for.

To be lost in the weight and heat of him and his body, it is worth it all.

He begins to mutter praise for your obedience, “you look so gorgeous, so good” and “you are so wicked, you take me so well,” and he increases his pace, which makes you cry out loudly until he tightens his hand around your throat.

“I…can…take it,” you coo as he chokes you, and his hips snap harder and harder into you each time. He eventually pulls out of you then turns you over so you are lying face down, and then pushes himself back into you with gorgeous brutality. “Oh I know you can,” he whispers in your ear with a strong, harsh thrust inside. You moan, euphoric at the hard, hot intrusion of his cock – and how it is being rammed into you, over and over and over again. You cry out as he dominates you from behind, pushing your face down into the wet ground, then holding up your hips and mercilessly drumming himself in and out of you. He falls into an intoxicating rhythm, and that white hot, addictive heat begins to build, the sweet call of your orgasm drawing you in. You must tighten around him again, as he stops his thrusts, pushing the back of your neck hard, then he leans forward to groan into your ear.

“Not yet,” he commands harshly, before hammering into your cunt again. You growl at his demand, feeling him pull your hair hard. You whine desperate moans as he grabs on to your behind harshly, and you twist your head and see him watching himself fuck you. He must love to watch, because you can see him falter in his harshness, clearly losing himself in your heat.

He curses, then purrs your name in his sensual voice, lowing your body so you are flat on the ground. He brings his hot chest to your back and as he continues to fuck you, slower but with a more feral harshness, he mutters fiercely.

“Tell me now, wicked girl, just how much you enjoy me,” he pauses, groaning as he repositions himself slightly, so he can slide into you deeper.

You cry out, louder now.

“That is what I want,” he moans, “let me hear you. Show me how much you need me.”

Who knew it could feel so good to be treated like this. There is something about his voice, it makes your body immediately yield to him, there is a furious heat to his words that sends you almost immediately over the edge. His strong body, his commanding tone, his rock-hard grip on you, and the thrill of those rough, world-shattering thrusts make you want to scream for him to never stop, for more, more, more.

“So…good…” you manage to whine, the climax you were robbed off previously slowly beginning to build again.

“You love it,” he whispers.

“Yes, Maul,” you cry.

“Good girl…”

“Don’t stop…” you beg, “please…”

“So desperate,” he says callously. You can only whimper in agreement.

“Take it,” he grunts, putting his full weight and strength into his slamming thrusts. “Show me how much you can handle, lady.”

“All of it,” you groan, “all of you.”

He curses, his pace increasing, less of a controlled rhythm and more of an instinctive, wild frenzy - with each word you speak and every moan you cry - he is coming closer and closer to his own undoing.

The sweet, ache of him stretching you, his warm breath and firm hold, his hot skin and the cold, relentless rain – it all becomes so overwhelming – and finally you can feel yourself giving in to the oncoming fury of your orgasm. He grunts his approval as it rips through your body with a sudden, surprising tidal force.

You sob into the ground, your whole body feeling so light with dizzying satisfaction. He pulls out of you again and you cry at the cruelty of his hasty removal, as you are rolled onto your back. He immediately falls on you, back in you, and he holds your face in his hands, his eyes glaring down into yours as he fucks you again, slower now, though still hard.

“I want to see you,” he confesses, “your face.”

Another solid shove into you. You whine.

“You look so good beneath me…”

Another hard thrust. Another.

You turn your face to kiss his palm, and his other hand snakes into your hair, pulling you back to look into his eyes.

Another.

“Let me see you take me,” he demands.

Another. Again and again and again.

You stare lazily at him, though your eyes are fluttering from the gorgeous soreness of his cock – and you keep moaning for him, honestly and vulnerably, with no filter to your cries. He seems entirely undone, and is now mercilessly fucking you again. As you look up at him you can see him losing control, so close now to his peak, and you think that he looks so impressively himself, so intoxicatingly magnificent when he uses you and your body like this for his own pleasure. You suddenly feel entirely insatiable, how could you possibly ever get enough of this beautiful, dangerous man ravishing you in this way?

With a harsh growl he comes inside of you and you hold his face, pulling his lips to yours and kissing him through his groans. You feel his body relax, and you use your hands to lower him to your chest, holding his head with weak, shaking arms – you wince as his horns dig into your skin, but you do not pull away from the pain. He slowly groans and starts to kiss you, all over you, then brings his face back to yours. You try to slow your racing heart through deep breaths, but your legs won’t stop shaking – kriff, your whole body is shaking.

“I took great pleasure in having you out here, in the rain,” he finally murmurs, planting a kiss on your temple. ��But you look as if you are about to collapse.”

You nod in agreement, clinging closely to his warm, tattooed skin - feeling suddenly so cold, so fragile and weak. He hushes you, sitting up and reaching for your drenched clothes.

“Let us go to the ship, lady."

You can only smile as he quickly dresses himself, then covers you up with his robe, and carries you through the trees. He moves quickly, seamlessly, and he does not stop until he brings you into the furthest clearing beyond the woods, revealing his ship - and you cannot believe that this is finally happening.

--

As you walk into his starship, you have never felt so incredibly overwhelmed, in every possible way. It isn’t exactly how you pictured it, but you were close enough.

It appears as if you have walked into a ready room, and there looks to be storage bays to your left, and sleeping compartments to your right. It is small, but warm, and that is all you really need right now, dripping wet and cold as you are. As you try to take in all the incredible details of what is and could be in here, he strips off the wet robe and wraps a dry one over you. As he hangs the damp garments up to dry, you spin all the way around twice, taking in your surroundings as best as you can in your condition. There must be more on a higher level, you realise, and then you notice what looks to be a lift to the cockpit, and go to walk to it, but he stops you from leaving the ready room, putting an arm around your shoulder.

This is all so exciting, your minding is racing. Where to begin?

“Refresher, maybe” he replies to your thoughts, and points to a small door beside it. “As much as I appreciate this wild, ravaged look,” you blush as he says it, “you are utterly filthy, and clearly very cold.”

It is then, that you notice how caked in dirt you are – it would have been even worse, had you not been rained on so intensely. You stifle a laugh, then pause, allowing a moment of silence.

“Come with me,” you say gently, and reach for his arm.

He says “okay” and he slowly moves with you into the refresher.

It’s not a sonic shower, and though that would have been incredibly fun to experience for the first time, you are grateful for the hot water that warms your bones. You are both slow and deliberate when you move in here. He does not speak at all, and spends a lot of time watching and touching you. He runs his hands softly over your skin, pausing only to smirk at and admire the marks he has left on you. As he washes you down, you notice how delicately he treats you, as if you may break at any moment. His demeanour is so different to how roughly you both had each other less than an hour ago, that it almost makes you dizzy, seeing two such incredibly opposite sides to him. After you are both clean, he leans into you and kisses your jawline and you feel him becoming hard again, his cock gently rubbing into your leg. A zap of longing strikes you between your thighs, and you feel your cunt becoming wet once more. Kriff, will you ever get enough?

He dries you both off, and before he can dress himself again you reach for his cock. He groans a low “mmmm” at the touch, and pulls you into his arms.

“Will I ever escape your insatiable lust, woman?” he mutters into your neck.

“Never,” you whisper, then you kiss him, your tongue slow, hot and intense.

You move into one of the sleeping compartments, and it isn’t much of a room, or a bed. It isn’t much of anything at all - but it is warm and dry, and it is his. His kisses are deep and lazy, and as he lays you down on to the cot, he runs his hands steadily down your body. You hiss slightly as he eventually slips his fingers into your folds, you are feeling sore now, after having such rough, fervent sex on the floor of the forest three nights in a row. He hushes you, then slowly moves down and positions himself so he can use his mouth on your cunt. He laps and kisses at you so gently it makes you want to cry. You cannot help but be entirely swept away in the soft, sincere motion of his lips and tongue. He groans approvingly at the taste of you, and the way he greedily feasts alongside the heat of his mouth makes you quickly soaked. He slowly begins to dip into you with his fingers again, and though there is a sharp sting to his touch at first, it bleeds away into pure bliss once more. He plays with your clitoris with his other hand, his movements so tender and lazy, and you moan, and moan and moan. Maker, each time he has his lips between your legs it gets better and better. As you look down at him and watch as he is entirely invested in your taste and warmth, you notice that he has subtly adapted his motions to what you like - learning from your movements and reactions to find where it feels the most euphoric for you. It is so fiercely perfect, that you lose all track of time, focusing entirely on the bliss of his tongue.

Eventually, the need for him to be inside of you becomes too great, and you slowly pull his head away from between your legs. He groans as he sits up, and you notice that he is incredibly hard. You smile hungrily at the sight of it, and move to kiss him - then push him back so he is lying down on the cot beneath you.

You straddle him, then move up slowly, dragging your wetness across his solid, aching cock, teasing him like he has done so many times to you. He moans at the feel of you, so hot, so slick, so close. His hands grasp on to your legs tightly, but not at all rough, more so robust and secure - and you use your hands to trail your fingers down his chest, tracing across his thick, black tattoos. The gentle touch causes a soft, yearning moan to fall from his lips.

“So beautiful,” he mutters quietly, his golden eyes glazing across your naked chest, your hair, your face. It is as if he doesn’t know where to look. You blush, feeling so exposed and vulnerable with his gaze on you like this. Even with your nervousness, it still feels so right to be intimate with him in this way, and so you make yourself meet his eyes with your own. You slide on to him confidently, and the sharp ache of him stretching you makes you whine. He gasps gently as he slips inside, and his hands move up to hold your waist as you begin to ride him.

You move slowly at first, watching him groan beneath you, any tension he held in his body melting away under your heat. His hands hold on to you with that gentle yet firm grip, and his eyes continue to roam all over you, taking in every detail he can, and as you grind down on to him harder, you see his expression soften. He looks utterly bewitched by each and every movement you make. You start to move faster, using your hips to bounce on him, and it feels so good that you cannot help but whimper and mewl at his hardness inside of you.

He absolutely loves this - you can tell by the soothing of his features and the languid desire in his brilliant eyes, that he is completely enthralled, watching you in motion on top of him. He gently groans, rocking his hips in tandem with yours. You pick up the pace, and after a little while of lazily enjoying your efforts, he slides his hands down your hips and thighs so that he can move up on his elbows and bring his face closer to you. You lean into him, and he catches your lips in a hotly intense kiss. You moan as he thrusts up into you, and the momentum moves your arms to either side of his head. You move together, moan together, and revel in the pleasure of your bodies connecting in this way.

“Such a good, wicked girl,” he groans quietly, sitting up to hold you closer. You wrap your legs around him, and your arms around his shoulders. You lace your fingers around the horns on his head - this has grown to be one of your favourite ways to hold him. He cradles you in his arms as you both move faster and faster, harder and more intense with each moment that passes.  

He keeps praising you, whispering in your ear at how good you feel, how wicked and sweet you are, how well you take him.

“You are so beautiful on top of me, precious girl,” he says between breaths, kissing your jawline gently. You coo softly at the praise, throwing your head back so he can kiss your neck.

He obliges, running his lips and tongue down your throat. He growls your name and mutters into your skin, “you are such a good girl” and as you respond to his praise with frenzied moans, you feel his undoing, and he moves faster, muttering such sweet, devilish things that make you feel as though you could melt.

“So hot, so wet…” he groans, “so sweet and wicked, and all mine,” and then his grasp around you tightens, and just before he reaches his peak, he growls that delicious, toxic word one more time - that word that makes you ache for him in a way you have not before, that word that shoots volts of pure gratification through your veins. “Mine.”

--

You spend the night in his arms. He is quiet as he caresses you with his fingers, lightly dragging them all over your skin, watching your reactions to his touch so intimately and with great interest. You touch him back, moving your hands gently across all the planes of his body. He reacts oddly, moving rapidly between states of hesitation and relaxation - and you can only guess that he is not used to such affection. It makes your chest ache in a way you do not fully understand. You eventually doze off, but soon awaken again, and you nestle further into his hold, closer to the comfort of his warm skin. He strokes your hair as you listen to the gentle thud of his hearts, the soothing rhythm rocks you into a soft, deeper sleep.

You dream all night long. You dream of the sun, of the stars and the moons, of war-torn, far away worlds. You dream of fruit and water and light. You dream of the unknown galaxy. You dream of Maul. And finally, you dream of a place that lies beneath the deepest part of the most violent ocean, at the centre of the universe, and how freeing it would be, to be trapped there with him.

--

{previous chapter} / {next chapter} / {fic masterlist}

{read chapter on ao3} / {read entire fic on ao3}

[onesheeptwosheepandachicken]

We get it you hate women and black people so you stalk them on twitter. You're very original Seeker, you're just like every other shitty male Bumblebee fan who has to defend RWBY by mocking and harassing any minorities who don't like RWBY.

Do you think that a person's gender, sexual orientation, or ethnicity prevents them from being bad people? Or predetermines they will good people?

Did you consider that I was dealing with people who were bashing Monty, his friends, and their work? and that their physical traits have NOTHING to do with my disagreements with them?

Oh, so it ONLY applies to RWBY Fans...and NEVER to RWBY Critics.

That's quite the double standard you critics have.

Let's look at some RWBY Quotes , shall we?

Oooh, Sun is only interested in Blake because she's a faunus...While Blake wants people to recognize her for WHO she is...not WHAT she is.

People love YangxBlake because Yang focuses on WHO Blake is as a person, and CARES about her Opinions...while Sun is focused on a woman based on appearance?

Sun abandons his team and kingdom while people are dying to chase after and stalk a woman who repeatedly tells him to leave her alone.....Blacksun fans claiming that Blake OWES Sun? for him stalking her?

THESE are the people who are “non-toxic” and somehow Bumbleby fans are “Toxic?”

I get regular harassment from Blacksun fans, and all you people do? Is lie about us harassing you?

So....let me make this clear. I do NOT criticize a person because of their gender, sexual orientation, ethnicity etc. That's what they are...not who they are...

I criticize people who make up bullshit..i criticize people who say shit like THIS>

Like the above ^ where RWBY Critics ignore every last shred of detail and context in the show....and instead come up with the most insane mental gymnastics that could ONLY be gained from never watching the show, but instead a tunnel vision delusion.

Blake looks at people based on their character.

Sun?look what he said about Ilia.."she doesn't even look like a faunus"....wow...

Maybe you need to think about what RWBY tries to explain in its themes.

Look beneath appearances...look for context.

Sun Wukong  abandons his teammates on a regular basis, commits theft regularly because he can, insults his partner in a library in front of everyone AND in front of people in Vytal, and judges others based on appearance.

Yang talks with Blake about her opinions, cares about her judgement, tries to understand where blake is coming from, and cares about Blake for WHO she is.

Tumblr has tons of screenshots from twitter...are you seriously saying you've never taken a screenshot of something going on? Or is it only bad when somebody you don't like does something to debate you?

you said these people "don't like rwby?"

Yet they claim to be fans...in the same breath that they insult the writers, the show, and the studio.

So which is it? Are they fans? or are they just like every other shitty blacksun fan who has to insult rwby by mocking anyone who enjoys and likes RWBY?

You'll notice i didn't mention genders, sexuality, or race?

Because it does NOT matter WHAT you are...it's WHO you are that matters...the only WHAT that is involved? is What you do as a person.

Its what you CHOOSE to do that defines you...NOT what you are born with...or maybe I can put it to you a different way?

How's that? Or am I still not getting through to your head?

I criticize RWBYCritics for being pieces of work who claim to be RWBY Fans in the same breath that they trash talk the show, the writers, Monty, and RWBY Fans.

Gender and Race have NOTHING to do with it....

[liyuesbian]

Heyo, do you think you could maybe write a fic of a gn reader with beidou on the ship? Just something fluffy, like what reader and beidou do on the ship yknow? Thanks!! (Its ok if you can't get to this lol)

✧ POLARIS. [BEIDOU]

CONTAINS! beidou x astronomer!reader

SUMMARY! where you are the north star that guides her home

NOTES! hi anon! ty for requesting and i hope this is alright! i'm really sorry this took so long... i haven't been feeling v motivated lately but i promise i'm working on the other requests :)) it might just take a while though

“that one's called orion," you inform and point to a line of stars. “you can tell by the three stars next to each other and they make up orion’s belt.” you go into more detail, labelling the stars that form the image of the hunter. the two of you are presently sitting on the edge of the alcor, legs dangling out of the ship and hanging above the calm sea. it’s nighttime so you’d think the water would be indiscernible if it weren’t for the soft reflections of light from the moon and the distant objects of gas.

"huh, why do constellations never look like the things they're named after?" you turn your head around. lifting an eyebrow, you give your lover a hard stare as if to say "did you seriously just ask me that question?"

beidou mirrors your actions and—as if she can read through you—answers the thought in your head.

"yes, i did," she lets out a chortle and grins cheekily. "what can i say? life is all about taking risks." you roll your eyes and bite your lower lip in an attempt to hold back your own laughter. it's amusing yet you can't help but give in to her provocations.

“do you want them to look like detailed portraits? you’d have to get vermeer to paint over the sky!” you proclaim dramatically, huffing and folding your arms across your chest to feign annoyance.

“hey, not a bad idea.” you spot a hint of a smirk on her face and roll your eyes in response. you’re about to retaliate but your attention is drawn to the dashes of white above you.

a meteor shower.

you gasp, stunned by the occurrence overhead. you had never been lucky enough to see one despite being an astrologer and calculating when the phenomenon would happen was quite difficult. that being so, this moment will be ingrained into your memory whilst the childlike wonder of the expression you wear will always be cherished by the woman beside you.

beidou's breathing hitches and her eyes turn soft as she observes your figure—shoulders edging forward with a growing attraction to the night sky and eyebrows lifting slightly in sheer amazement. streaks of light are reflected onto your pupils, flitting ever so quickly yet why, at this moment, does it feel like time is the opposite? for beidou, her universe slows as if nothing else in the world matters.

love blooms in her heart and she feels dizzy but she doesn't dare to say it yet. you'll have to wait a while but when it does happen—when each others' feelings are realised—beidou knows she'll declare it with so much confidence and so much volume that not even the collapse of a supernova would be able to mute her.

“they say if you're lucky enough to see a shooting star, you can make a wish and it’ll come true,” you say, awestruck. “now, we can make a million wishes.”

suddenly brought back to reality, your lover discreetly swerves her eyesight to the stellar mess over your heads.

“you know, stars are useful to us sailors too,” beidou mentions.

“oh?”

“there’s a star over there...” she points upwards to redirect your focus. “that we use to navigate the seas. we call it the north star haha. not sure if it's actually north though.”

“i think i’ve heard of that. amongst my fellow astronomers, we gave it the name ‘polaris’. it’s the brightest star of the ursa minor constellation.” you reminisce. beidou nods in understanding but really, she becomes lost in your last few sentences.

“i use it to help my crew get back home safe and sound,” she pauses, taking the time to choose her words. “but for me, the north star isn’t the thing that guides me home.”

you feel your heart rate spike at the statement and you find yourself clinging nervously onto what she’ll say next. beidou’s gaze, once again, lands on your face.

“it’s you.” she witnesses the sides of your mouth arch up as you let out a small giggle.

“i didn’t realise you could be so… coquettish.”

grinning, you close the remaining distance between you until her lips are a breath away from yours. you raise your hand so your thumb can caress her cheeks and as she leans into your touch with her eyes piercing through your own, neither of you can resist any longer. heart beating against her chest, beidou leans forward to kiss you. it’s soft, delicate and, like a wish that is projected upon a shooting star, is received with an infinite amount of care.

when you separate, your heart aches for more so you do it all over again. under the moonlight, where nobody can catch sight of you, her lips brush yours, and a second galaxy is born.

with your hands still tightly wound together, the electro wielder tips her head to rest it on your shoulder. she whispers, eyes closed in pure bliss, “looks like we’ll be keeping the moon company all night, eh?”

[hoe-doroki]

Can I have a bakugou smut where he had just come home from a hard day and he needs to blow off some steam and the reader has been horny all day so she/they do whatever he says. Sorry if this was long, it's ok if you don't do it. Thank you 🙏❤

Omg, not too long at all! Seriously, for requests for me, generally the more details the better, especially for what kinks you may or may not like, because then I can better cater it to you! Since you didn’t specify, you’re stuck with choking, degradation, and exhibitionism, because I like them, oops. Sorry it’s taken me so long to write this—I’ve been so excited about it the whole time but…there’s no but, I just didn’t write it until now 🤷‍��️

minors do not interact

warnings: 18+, exhibitionism, degradation, choking, biting/marking, slight possessiveness

wc: 3.1k

a/n: Thanks to @dymphnasprose for making this gorgeous banner for me!

edit: I no longer write x reader but here’s my old masterlist - mobile | desktop

You heard him before you saw him.

It was the ding of the elevator that was first audible from the dining room table where you were working on your computer. Then you heard the heavy clomp of Katsuki’s boots coming down the hallway, already painting a picture of a frustrating day on the job.

When he shouldered his way in the front door, you saw that he was still in his full hero uniform. The roots of his hair were dark with sweat and Katsuki’s ire seemed to have made it all the way down to his fingertips, where he was clumsily batting at his shoelaces. As if anger and a glare would force them undone quicker than a nimble touch.

“Rough day?” you commented, standing up from the dark mahogany table and walking over to your boyfriend. Your hands were on your hips as you looked down at where he was bent over in the entryway.

He grunted as he cast his boot off. If he were outside, that shoe would have been flung halfway down the block, possibly with smoke coming off it. Inside your home, however, even the angriest Katsuki could only manage an angry shove before moving onto his next obstacle.

You didn’t press for more. You just watched as the second boot came off and your boyfriend stood up, knees cracking. He probably hadn’t so much as stretched at the end of his shift. He looked wound tight in every way, from his clenching fingers to the tension scrunching his face.

“Fucking cops stole the villain from under my nose,” Katsuki said.

The kitchen was just a few steps away, so you filled a glass of water and offered it to him. He downed it in a few gulps and was probably just a couple measures of force short from breaking the glass as he smacked it back down on the counter.

“But they were captured?” you asked. “That’s good.”

“The only good thing about it is that now they’re the ones that have to do the paperwork,” Katsuki growled. “I told fucking five-head that if I’m not needed, I might as well come home.”

Five-head was the name Katsuki used for his manager—with a deeply receding hairline—at the agency. Fortunately, Katsuki had only let the nickname slip to the guy’s face…a handful of times.

“Sounds like a rough day,” you said as Katsuki took his gauntlets off, treating them with more care than he had his boots. “You know, I’ve been a little bit…frustrated today too.”

Katsuki’s eyes, piercing when outlined by the dark cling of his mask, flicked towards you, hearing your intentionally placed drawl immediately. “That so?”

His tone was suspicious. Maybe it should have been, by the upward pull on your lips as you leaned in close to him, stroking his arm, still hot and damp from a day on patrol.

“Yeah.” You pouted, making your tone intentionally whiny as you blinked big, round eyes at him. “Or do you not remember this morning?”

That morning had been on your mind all fucking day. Katsuki’s alarm had woken you up, as it always did, and after the ringing had faded from your ears, your body had honed in on a different sense. Specifically, the morning wood that had been pressing hard against your ass. The boner that you’d wiggled back against, moaning as you trailed your fingers up and down your boyfriend’s arm—not unlike you were right now. Katsuki had kissed you on the cheek, and then on the mouth, and you’d expected a quickie before work. You’d felt yourself growing wet at the possibility, your cheeks heating at his touch.

But then he’d pulled away and left the room before you could so much as whimper in protest. It was like he hadn’t even noticed. Like his dick hadn’t been the one to start it.

You watched the memory from many hours ago work its way onto Katsuki’s face. An eyebrow rose—you could tell even from under the mask—and a low fire lit behind his eyes. “That?”

You leaned into his ear, latching yourself around his side so that your thigh just brushed against his groin and whispered, “I’ve been thinking about it all day.”

“Always so fucking desperate for me, huh?” Katsuki rasped, grabbing your thigh with his gloved hand and wrapping your leg around his waist. “You’re lucky I’m not cooled down yet.”

When his lips met yours, they were aggressive, pent up. You could taste the salt of forgotten trails of sweat that had run from his mask down his lips. He smelled manly with it, and smoky from his quirk.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard you forget about this morning,” Katsuki said roughly before digging his teeth into your neck.

“All talk?” you asked your voice coming out as a gasp.

You were met with Katsuki placing both of his large hands on your ass, pressing your core against his hardening length. The pants on his hero costume were loose enough that he had room to grow and tent—or he would, if you weren’t grinding down on him without any pretense hiding your desperation.

Then, he let go of you. His hands were gone from your ass, mouth abandoning your neck. Without his support, you stumbled back, looking at him in confusion.

Katsuki, however, was grinning at you, lips shiny and flushed pink. “Strip for me, baby.”

After Katsuki’s inadvertent tease that morning, you hadn’t been able to help yourself and had dressed a little sexier than usual. You weren’t going to let Katsuki ignore you this time around.

You took off your clothes piece by piece, your eyes lingering on the garments and then flicking up to Katsuki, taking him in as he unzipped his pants and pulled his fat cock out. He stroked himself until you were left in nothing but a matching bra and panty set. Both were orange, matching the X over his chest and the palms of the gloves he’d just slapped to the floor.

“Fuck, baby,” he growled, taking a step toward you, hand never leaving his cock, “this is just what I needed.”

You were prepared to drop to your knees, stretch your mouth around that juicy cock, already glistening with precum right at the tip. Katsuki followed your gaze and caught your chin with just one finger, forcing your eyes up to his.

“There’s no need for that, sweetness,” he said. “Apparently, you’ve been patient all day. So if you’re a good girl and do what I say, you can have this cock right away. How’s that sound?”

“Good,” you said, nodding eagerly.

“Right answer,” Katsuki said, moving his hand to run his thumb under the band of your bra. His hand was feathering over the clasp when, suddenly, he snapped the elastic, earning a yelp out of you. “Now fucking strip.”

You removed your bra in a hurry, then your panties, leaving yourself totally bare to Katsuki’s roving eyes. Meanwhile, he was still dressed in the entirety of his hero costume, save for his boots, gloves and gauntlets. The spikes behind his mask were still in place, as was his belt. The only thing unusual was his thick cock hanging out of those black pants.

“Good girl,” Katsuki whispered. “Now be a good little slut and open the curtains.”

You stared at Katsuki for a moment. The windows took up the whole wall, floor to ceiling of your main living space. You lived near the top of your building—with the curtains open, you would barely be visible to the street, unless someone had a zoom quirk. But there were neighboring skyscrapers that would offer a view right into your apartment.

However, Katsuki didn’t have patience to spare today.

“I’ll go into our room and cum on my fucking hand if you don’t open the curtains.”

His eyes were stern, but not hard. Behind his mask, there was enough openness that you knew if you said your safe word he’d pull you into him, apologize into your neck just loud enough for you to hear, and make love to you slowly in missionary on your bed with all the windows drawn.

But this wasn’t a missionary kind of day.

You cocked your chin and walked past the leather couch and dining table over to the window. The curtains were drawn so that there wouldn’t be a glare on your laptop, but now you opened them, slowly but steadily. On your high floor, the afternoon sun was on the same plane as you. It was catching those late afternoon shades of bright orange that draped you in strands of golden luxe.

“You like that?” Katsuki asked when you looked over your shoulder, looking perhaps a little too self-satisfied. “You like everyone seeing what a slut you are? How fucking gorgeous you are?”

You could only moan as Katsuki came up behind you, catching your bare breasts in both hands and rocking his cock against your ass, just like that morning, but without the separation of your clothes.

“The thing is, sweetheart,” Katsuki whispered between kisses on your already bruising neck, “if anyone’s gonna see you like this, they’re gonna haveta see that you belong to me.”

One of Katsuki’s hands drifted back to his cock and slid it between your legs, through the stickiness that was already clinging to your thighs. He kicked your legs wider to make room for himself, thrusting between your pussy lips, forcing you to lean forward against the window for leverage. His dick dragged against your clit very intentionally, pulling groans out of you as your hips naturally rocked with his.

“So wet already,” Katsuki commented. “You really have been desperate for my cock all day, haven’t you? Did you touch yourself waiting for me?”

You’d thought about it. When Katsuki had left and you’d still felt that initial heat between your legs, you’d considered pulling out your wand and cumming against its rumbly, reliable vibrations. Your fingers had been itching for it, pussy craving the speedy finish it would provide.

“No,” you whined. “I didn’t.”

“Good girl.”

Your forehead fell against the window, eyes closed in the bright sunlight as the meaty head of his cock began to split you open.

“This what you wanted?”

“Yes,” you breathed, leaning your head against his shoulder, closing your eyes as he sunk into you. He claimed to be rewarding you for your patience all day, yet was going slow enough for you to feel every inch. You squeezed around him purposefully, trying to suck him in faster. He acted like he didn’t notice.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Katsuki said when he finally bottomed out. He sat there for a moment, kissing your neck as you continued to flutter hopelessly around him. Then he pulled out and rammed back into you in one go, nearly knocking the wind out of you.

Katsuki cackled, squeezing the meat of your thighs in both hands as he pounded into you. “Do you really think I’d do this for everyone to see if I was going to do anything less than fuck your brains out?”

All that powerlessness that Katsuki had felt at work was now being turned around into sheer might—metabolized frustration being taken out on your poor pussy. He hadn’t been able to capture that villain, but now he had you in his clutches. That unutilized strength was forcing your breasts and one cheek flat against the glass as he let your body have it.

“Katsuki,” you whined. “More.”

“So desperate and needy today, aren’t we sweetness?” Katsuki said, driving his hips forward even harder. You could feel one of the grenades on his belt smacking dangerously against your ass. It was like Dynamight had found you on the street and dragged you down a back alley to fuck while on patrol. “Lucky for you, you’re asking for something I want too.”

You’d riled something up in Katsuki. In a mood like this, he might use you, cream his cock deep inside you and let you think that he was gonna leave you like that for a good few minutes before finishing you off on his tongue or his fingers, or going another round. But it seemed as though you’d just managed to maneuver yourself onto his good side today. He wanted the satisfaction of you squeezing around him, milking his cum out of him at least once.

One of Katsuki’s hands crept up your side until it reached your neck, gripping around it but not yet pressing in. His lips were on your ear, biting your lobe before whispering, “Is this what you wanted?”

“Yes.”

The end of the word came out as a hiss as Katsuki’s thick fingers closed around your throat. His other hand crept to the front of your pubic bone, flattening the hair there as the tip of his pinky reached just above your clit. Intentionally not making contact under the guise of just being able to hold you closer to his driving hips.

Your face grew hot as Katsuki pressed against your windpipe, against the veins so that you felt your throttled heartbeat begin its desperate dance. As your breath grew short, everything became sharper. Katsuki’s cock hitting right against your g-spot suddenly hit less like sparks and more like a thick stroke of fire with every go.

“You like that, huh?” Katsuki taunted as he pulled your neck against his shoulder, his thumb and middle finger nearly meeting behind your neck. “You like me fucking choking you for the world to see? So everyone can see what a dirty whore you are?”

It wasn’t like you could respond with his hand that tight around your throat. You could do little more than whimper, the vibrations buzzing against the rough calluses on his palm.

“Heh, that’s what I fucking thought.”

The power trip only seemed to be stoking Katsuki’s spirit as he pounded you unabashedly in the window. You were bracing yourself with one forearm but used the other to rest on top of the hand he had just over your sex. You just wanted to urge him just a few more millimeters south. A few blessed moments of contact on your aching clit would tip you over the edge, you were sure. But Katsuki only pushed you forward, trapping your hand and his against the cold glass, condensation framing around your hot touch.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he said, his voice low and so far from apologetic. “I thought it was this cock you were so desperate for? And here I am, already so generous with my hand on your beautiful throat. ‘S that not enough for you or something?”

It wasn’t, and he knew it. His cock hitting your sweet spot and his hand keeping you just on this side of passed out would edge you from now until eternity. It would leave you burning in your core, dripping down your thighs, and desperate to cum until your dying breath. But it would never have you squeezing around him, never falling boneless against his chest. Not if he didn’t touch you.

Just when you were giving up, just when you were able to focus on little more than your head growing light, your vision narrowing on the blades of orange light on the buildings in front of you, Katsuki’s last three fingers came together, threading through your fuzz before they swiped furiously over your clit.

You jerked forward so hard Katsuki lost his grip on your neck, allowing you to cry out full throated as your orgasm took over, crashing into you with more power than you’d felt in months. Air felt like water as you gasped, nonsense falling from your lips as your thighs shook and Katsuki wrapped his now free hand around your waist to keep you upright.

Your raucous orgasm had Katsuki was groaning too, barely leaving your cunt as the last couple thrusts urged his seed out of him, painting your walls before you were done quivering yourself. Your cheek was flat against the glass as Katsuki leaned his forehead against you, breathing heavily once his orgasm had washed over him.

“Shit, how’s a guy not supposed to bust when you do that,” he said, slipping out of you and placing a chaste kiss on your shoulder. “Clamping around me like a fucking vice and screaming like that. If the neighbors didn’t see you, they sure fucking heard you.”

You might have mindlessly apologized, if you weren’t still struggling to get your breath back under you, your own recovery taking much longer than Katsuki’s. You felt him leave your back, your eyes blinking open to see the translucent reflection of him leaving the window as the sun fell behind one of the city’s many skyscrapers.

A moment later, you felt a washcloth between your legs, swiping at the combined cum that was already dribbling down your thigh. The cloth slowly trailed up and you shivered when Katsuki softly swiped it over your too sensitive pussy. Then the washcloth was gone from his hands and he was on your shoulders, gently kneading out the tension there as you lolled your head side to side to stretch.

“God, I needed that,” Katsuki said quietly. “You alright?”

“Yeah, that was amazing,” you replied, your voice raspy but dreamy as you began your slow descent back to Earth.

“Course it was.”

You turned around, raising an unamused eyebrow at Katsuki’s smirk and then walked back over to the corner of the room to pull the blinds back in place. Now that your lust was receding, you had no interest in flashing your tits and wrecked pussy to the neighbors.

“God, I need to take a fucking shower,” Katsuki said as he started dismantling his costume, starting with his mask. He hardly seemed to notice as he took off his neck brace and then his tank that he was giving you the exact same kind of strip tease that you’d given him just a few minutes ago.

“A shower?” you asked coquettishly as you sidled over to the dining table he was placing his costume onto. “Might there be room for two in this shower?”

“No,” Katsuki answered quickly, placing his grenades one by one on his shirt so they wouldn’t roll away. He didn’t so much as glance at you.

“No?”

Katsuki looked serious as he kept his eyes focused on his task, bending down to unstrapping his knee pads. When he stood up straight again, his grin was devilish.

“I think I like it better when you’re frustrated.”

[fermented-writers-block]

PART 1 of 6 of the Owl Deity Hooty Theory

[NEXT PART]

[OWL DEITY HOOTY THEORY MASTERPOST] (in development)

(TLDR at bottom of post)

Over several long months of research and analysis since March of 2020, I have been following an utterly fascinating thread of potential misdirection and subtle details throughout The Owl House, and today, I would like to start weaving together of what I believe could become one of the biggest and most cleverly disguised twists in the entire show.

To begin, let’s take a look at the B plot of Understanding Willow:

On first glance, it’s an ultimately inconsequential sidestory with the sole purpose of justifying an excuse to keep Luz and Amity in Willow’s mind, as well as providing some well-needed room to breathe and release tension after the veryemotionally charged confrontation with Inner Willow. After half an episode of Eda and King outdoing the other in ridiculous ways to win Gus’ vote and Gus running off in frustration at the end of the episode from Hooty’s inane rambling, it’s easy to laugh off Gus’ pick and assume that nothing/of value was said when he closed the door for the interview.

However, if one pays close attention to that very scene, Hooty actually canstill be heard (if faintly) underneath Eda and King’s grumbling, interestingly talking about how “It all started with a hunt. Blood red skies. That’s right, I was created-.”

Now, while it may seem silly to focus on dialogue from Hooty of all characters, this A) tells us that there was an event in the past involving blood red skies and a hunt of some kind, B) that Hooty had been created close to said event, and C) implies that what he knows but can’t tell as a story worth a damn is EXTREMELY important to be included and be hidden in such a manner.

For comparison, the only other instance of dialogue being tucked away in the background in the entire show is in Wing It Like Witches:

During the lecture at the beginning of the episode, the history teacher openswith lore on Belos appointing a head witch to each coven over 50 years ago, immediately cluing in the audience to try and decipher the rest of the lecture as it moves to the background. Adding to this is how the musical sting when Luz shows off her movie obscures what he says even further, making it even more of a intriguing puzzle that the creators clearly intended for viewers to pick up on and attempt to solve.

In contrast, the hidden dialogue of Hooty’s interview is much shorter and not as hard to decipher as the teacher’s history lesson, but at the same time, there are few to no indicators whatsoever in that scene to clue in the audience to even check for something like that. It comes at the end of an episode where most viewers would have been paradoxically tired out and driven abuzz by the revelations of Amity and Willow’s relationship, doesn’t attempt to draw much attention to itself, and frames itself as a comedic subversion of audience expectations with neither the “greatest witch who ever lived” or the self-proclaimed king of demons being picked by Gus.

Instead, he picks someone that the show portrays constantly as an oblivious and gullible idiot after being described as a “state of the art defense system” at the very beginning of the series. Someone who, despite it being played for laughs, is scarily capable of casually subduing Lilith offscreen one episode and then beating her and an entire squad of Emperor’s Coven members without even the slightest change in personality or temperament.

Someone who, due to being the Owl House itself, could be considered the titular character of the entire show, yet is taken for granted by those who inhabit him and barely gets any respect from even the cutely patronized King - including when Hooty could be interpreted as having potentially been full on DEAD for a time given the use of extremely cartoony X eyes and a lack of vital signs in The Intruder.

And someone who Eda at best tolerates and at worst abandons in personal interactions and only occasionally acknowledges him when he’s actually doing his job. Yet at the same time is so implicitly trusted beyondprotecting her home to the point where - when up against the closest person Eda has to an equal outside of likely Belos - the only actually recognizable spells Eda used in combat were 1) stereotypical energy blasts, 2) a single shield spell in Covention, and 3) a noticeably large reliance on imitations of Hooty above any other spells she could have decided to use instead.

In short, the show repeatedly tells us he is just an idiotic gag character through and through, but at the same time demonstrates he has immense power through both onscreen and offscreen demonstrations, implicitly tells us his importance ahead of time through Eda’s imitations in actually serious situations, and treats his interview and origin story as - if not even more- important to keep secret than a long lore dump about how Belos’ reign works.

After all, there being only two instances of hidden background dialogue in the entire season is already intriguing on its own, but for one to get plenty of clues to draw in people’s attention and for the other to be treated as just another gag about a “mere comic relief character” - aka a good way to draw away attention and lower one’s guard - heavily suggests a far deeper significance buried under layers of misdirection, comedy, and conditioned audience expectations.

I mean, when Eda bragged about being “a bad girl living in a secret fortress,” Hooty followed with a remark about how “I’m the secret.” While that line may sound like Hooty simply being confused as part of a one-off on the surface, it’s an odd dialogue choice for the writers to pick when you think about all the other reminders of his nature as the house itself throughout the season. With the precedent these moments set, it would have been much more appropriate for him to latch onto the “fortress” side of “secret fortress” AND it would have been just as equally funny of a joke about his awareness skills, but instead, Hooty broke away from the established trend to say something that would make people suspicious were it to come from anyone else.

In a way, this reminds me much of the many subtle bits of foreshadowing strewn across the show, like Luz unknowingly describing Amity in Witches Before Wizards and Eda burning a hole through Luz’s coven type quiz that coincidentally selected the same track she had taken at Hexside as “a punky potionist.” At the time of airing, these initially seemed like one-off jokes, but eventually came back in full force several episodes later with Amity’s hidden sensitive feelings and love for the Azura books becoming clear in Lost in Language, and the reveal of Eda’s school track in Something Ventured, Someone Framed with her school misdemeanor pictures.

That said, compared to these individual bits of minor foreshadowing, the jokes about Hooty in Understanding Willow appear to simply be the most obvious pieces in a giant puzzle, implicitly and outright telling attentive viewers that there’s a major mystery to be uncovered here.

In fact, I feel bold enough to say that we could be looking at a twist on a similar scale to that of the Pink Diamond/Rose Quartz and Stanford Pines twists in Steven Universe and Gravity Falls respectively, what with this particular puzzle piece coming from how Gus wanted to make THE greatest interview of all time, and how he was looking for someone who was “interesting, accomplished, AND noteworthy:”

Note the emphasis on the ‘and’ here, as Gus had made a big deal that “people aren’t meantto be all those things” at the beginning of the episode, so as a result, stripping away all the comedic framing of his subplot leaves the intriguing implication that whoever - and, perhaps, what- Hooty is, they really are the most interesting, accomplished, AND noteworthy person out of everyone.

I could go further and talk about why I suspect the mystery surrounding King’s origins, whether true or not, is partially meant to misdirect us from paying attention to Hooty, or how the TOH crew’s could be disguising legitimate clues to his nature among made up and highly meme-able joke answers in order to proliferate said concepts throughout the fandom - thus letting us do all the dirty work of getting ourselves used to the ideas and used to dismissing them at the same time - but to bring things to a close for now, I’d like to leave you all with a question that I’ll start answering next time:

What does it mean when both the most powerful and notorious witch on the Boiling Isles and the possible actual king of demons/the Titan itself/something don’t match up to a house? And what do you think it is that makes him so special to warrant such misdirection?

TLDR: Between Eda’s golem spells, the show stressing his nature as the titular house, his implicit strength, and the odd dialogue and structure of Understanding Willow‘s subplot in relation to him, I believe I have good reason to suspect the show has been giving us many hints towards Hooty being much, much more important than it would like us to currently believe or even joke about. Particularly, through clever uses of comedy to establish and enforce a strong audience bias against looking closely at him or unironically taking him seriously, and to potentially plant the seeds for something I will start exploring in Part 2.

[gale-gentlepenguin]

Gale Reviews: ML Season 4 Episode 3: Gang of Secret

(Spoilers below)

-So they just beat a villain, and Ladybug is acting SUS. Like she doesn't Want to leave yet. Hmm

-Chat noir YOU SLICK MOFO. (I dare not ruin it, because I am laughing at it)

-She is still not over her break up. So I guess Lukanette stans, get whatever remains of your juice while its there.

-Ladybug ... sweetie. Do you need a hug? Cause you look like you need a hug.

-Chat noir realizing his idea was NOT very smart after that.

-Ladybug ruining experiences for a LOT of couples today

-Chat noir trying to help, but Ladybug aint telling him

-They are going swimming now. Chat noir for once, is not thrilled about hanging out with Ladybug... thats a YIKES.

-She has goggles and a towel, so she did go swimming.

-The Kwami see her in pain, QUICK, TEAR DOWN THE PHOTOS.

-She said no tho, but clearly sad about it.

______________

-So Alya is giving the girl posse the rundown on Marinette. Claiming she is lovesick.

-Rose thought they were cute, and Juleka says nothing. Is it wrong that I want Juleka to have an opinion? Whether positive OR negative

-Juleka is like "Yea, he is sad." shows picture of sad Luka. Though to be fair, that is a decent pic of him.

- So Alya is LAST to know. Double ouch.

-Marinette was crying in the bathroom, baby girl no!

-MARINETTE OMG! HOW DOES SHE HAVE THAT?!

-Alya out here trying to be a good friend. By showing Marinette she has support. (She aint even mad that she was last to find out. She is more concerned about her friend)

-THEY HAVE A SECRET HANDSHAKE!

-They calling her now

-She didn't answer. She is too sad

-So she won't detransform and talk with tikki. Can I PLEASE give her a hug. She needs it.

-Yo... Marinette has zero concern for herself and only detransformed when she thought it was causing strain on Tikki.

-Mylene offering friendship bracelets. Never change dear.

-Okay so are they witches now?

-Alix is like 'Can I not be in a ritual, Id rather give her some juice'

_________________

-Marinette sad cause Ladybug can't have a boyfriend. Cause even if she dated Adrien, it would be the same as it was with Luka.... Tikki knows that aint true but can't say why. UGH! This is pain

-Did Tikki just confirm Kwami can't fall in love? NO! MY CHEESECAKE!

-OH S***! So now she gonna be Perma ladybug?!

-So the girls showed up as soon as ladybug left. This isn't good.

-And of course Marinette is TOO GOOD at making s***, so they curious about the new dollhouse

-OH S*** THAT WAS CLOSE!

-And things going to s*** in 10, 9, 8

-Oh no... this... this is not good. Marinette sweetie no. No please.

-Look can we take a second and APPRECIATE HOW HARD ALYA AND THE GIRLS ARE GOING FOR MARINETTE! Did the writers see all of the alya salt and say 'Yea f*** that noise'? Cause I feel like they did.

-Okay so I know Marinette just didn't want to expose her secret... but damn girl... THAT was harsh.

-Marinette literally going scorched earth for being Ladybug... Okay, this episode PHYSICALLY hurts me. SHE DOESNT MEAN IT GIRLS. PLEASE DONT HATE HER.

-Shadowmoth could you not. Like seriously?! COULD YOU F***ING NOT! MY BABY GIRL IS IN PAIN AND I WILL GO THROUGH MY SCREEN AND [Redacted]

-And then you'll have to f*** sideways.

-So first 5 way akumatization

-So can we talk about how the last 3 akuma were after the secrets of Marinette. well 2, but the other one was Adrien. But still. A Lot of Hawkmoth saying 'F*** this individual in particular'

-THEY JUST WANT HER TO STAY THEIR FRIEND! OMG I CANT EVEN BE MAD.

-I wish I could understand Juleka. Can someone please just translate with what she is saying. It was funny in truth, but I want to know

-OH Timebreaker and Horrificator are BACK. Yay, I missed them

-Just realized how AMAZING their Gang of akuma are. Like damn, thats like a super team of evil. Yea sure

___________________________

-Not to nitpick, but Marinette, you should have led with that box.

-TRIXX IS GONNA USE HIS POWERS OMG FINALLY! A PURE KWAMI POWER. We haven't seen that since Plagg.

-Damn that was a really boss illusion trixx. But question, how was that out of control? Like if anything, that was BETTER then when the user used it.

-Trixx makes a really good point. WHY DOES HE NEED A HOLDER AGAIN?!

-OH, HE WAS LYING. EVERYTHING LOOKS F***ING BANANAS.

-Trixx is now my second favorite Kwami.

-PLAGG! MY SON! HE IS IN THE EPISODE! I MISSED HIM. Also, surprisingly knows.

-Plagg cares about other Kwami.

-Adrien just chilling, watching tv. XD

-Timebreaker casually committing murder

-Hold it, Okay so why are so many people in school right now? Ivan is there, chloé and Sabrina? Oh my tomato son too. Can someone tell me wtf is up with this school schedule?

-Fragrance/Reflekta Power combo is amazing.

-Wow, this gang is MEGA DANGEROUS

-So yea Ladybug. Maybe... idk... TALK WITH CHAT NOIR ABOUT YOUR PROBLEMS!?

-So they really gotta plan this time.

-Ladybug smart to disarm Ladywifi.

-Ladybug trying to get lady wifi to fight the akuma. This is touching

-SHE DID IT! ALYA BROKE FREE! LIKE A MOTHERF***ING BOSS.

-No, shadow moth, you's a b***

-Loving this Alya- Ladybug friendship

-Chat noir looking boss by fighting 3 akuma at once while on the phone. Chat noir Leveled up.

-So Ladybug can now pull the miraculous out of anywhere because she has guardian status. Thats a cool trick. Makes it much easier.

-Thats a secret tho, Alya got trusted with a big secret.

-RENA ROUGE IN THE HOUSE!

_______

-And Chat noir is captured... but in his defense. He did have to fight 4 at once this time. So that took longer than usual. So no shame kitty. You did well.

-Lucky charm is an inner tube

-Clever illusion. POINTS! Using the goal of the akuma to distract. Alya gets gull points!

-WOW! REALLY CLEVER ILLUSION.

-Ladybug suave catch of rose tho.

-So that was probably the best Group akuma attack since Heroes day (and honestly it probably tops it)

________

-Marinette patches things up with her friends. That is a relief. She was able to somewhat explain her issues up to the point. Without spilling the details.

-Marinette has some really good friends.

-Alya knows that not everything has been told... Hold on DONT TELL ME.

-Oh wow, Marinette is breaking down.... My poor baby girl is hurting real bad.

-OH S*** SHE SAID IT! SHE TOLD HER! SHE TOLD ALYA!

____________________________________________________________

wow this episode... This one hurt. This one hurt a LOT. But also, it was really good.

Okay so, 10/10.

I haven't been this enthralled with an episode in a long time.

Are there one or two nitpicks? Absolutely.

Do I wish somethings were not mentioned? A little bit.

Am I glad Alya knows? Out of everyone, she is the second person I wanted Marinette to tell.

(The first one being chat noir, but lets face it, we kind of knew that won't be happening for a while.)

So can Alya salt stop now? Cause Alya CLEARLY showed how much of a motherf***ing boss she is.

But damn I didn't feel this emotional since Chat blanc.

I DONT EVEN CARE THAT THE AKUMA WERE REPEATS.

That was OBJECTIVELY, one of the best episodes in the entire series.

This made me rethink my favorite episode. THATS HOW GOOD IT WAS.

Season 4, You keep doing what you are doing. Your writing (minus some very minor nitpicks) has been pretty damn good.

[derangedhyena-delphinidae]

numerous issues with “The Aftermath of Seaworld”

When I get time to do so (aka when I’m done with the documentary), I’m likely going to make a video version of this going into the details.��

But for right now, I’ve made this. Both as a guideline for me and so everyone can begin to get an idea of the severity of issues involved.

Researching things is time-consuming and can be very difficult - believe me, I know. But I’m of the mind that if you’re making content with the intent of educating people, you have a responsibility to perform a certain level of due diligence. It IS okay to express uncertainty or doubt if you have it. It is NOT okay to confidently assert things that you do not know with certainty.

The video has an anticap slant, and I’m obviously not disagreeing on that front. But again: if you’re gonna go through the trouble of teaching people something. Bare minimum... please make sure it’s actually correct. *** 1) x ‘founded in 1964 and based out of Florida’ -  ???? Seaworld definitively began on the west coast, in San Diego, CA. And given that the first park opened in early 1964… things came together before that. Uh? 2) x ‘four people founded Seaworld [...]’ For one… it wasn’t originally conceived as a restaurant, it was originally conceived as an underwater bar/lounge. Two… calling the four guys involved in founding the place “frat brothers” is fucking ridiculous and completely overlooks a) how each was actually involved and b) the overall significance of their contributions to the field as individuals. Hint: like it or not, they were important and did a lot! 

3) x If one is going to bring up SWBGCF/rescues while talking about the literal founding of SW, it gives the impression that it’s been around for that duration. It hasn’t.  It’s actually a bit unclear when SW started an organized rescue program, but the Fund itself and all that it did came about much later. The rescue information and how it’s presented is actually INCREDIBLY complex, nuanced, and has a fascinating history (from a “bad company behaving badly” perspective). Oversimplifying this, to this degree and in this misinformative way, does the facts of the situation an INCREDIBLE disservice.  

4) x [assertive statement about what the name Shamu means]  ….Uh actually there’s several explanations for the name Shamu, and the most likely one IMO seems to be the “she-namu” one, not the “friend of Namu” one(? What is this even based on.) 4b) It’s not quite clear if she’s saying “Namu was the first ever orca to be displayed and perform shows” or or Namu was the first to be displayed and, like Shamu, performed shows. Either way, Moby Doll was the first to truly be displayed to the public, not Namu.

5) x ‘Namu died after one year in captivity and you’d think that this might deter Seaworld from doing the same thing again…’ Seaworld truly had nothing to do with Namu. And they leased/took possession of Shamu before Namu died. ‘Again’? What?

6) x “Now, PETA paints a pretty disturbing picture…” [while showing Okura’s artwork] This video segment is, and this is putting it nicely, a pile of poorly-researched BULLSHIT.  -Yes, PETA talks about Shamu’s capture, re: the harpooning of her mother. This Youtuber cannot apparently be arsed to look more than 1 Google search into this, as she proceeds to dismiss the information as potentially fabricated. There are two detailed accounts of Shamu’s capture that I’m aware of - in books - and though they have some slight conflicts, it’s absolutely NOT in doubt that the female who was very likely Shamu’s mother was 1) harpooned, 2) died from her injuries and 3) this had been done to make her easier to catch/locate because there was a fucking buoy attached to the harpoon. Which she dragged around for at least 24 hours prior dying.  So maybe don’t dismiss that as PETA hysteria, maybe TRY to determine the truth of the matter, which would inform one that it is both true and completely horrifying.  -In addition, Okura is an awesome individual who has worked very hard to create a variety of informative artwork for our cause. Okura is NOT associated with PETA and it’s borderline libel in my eyes to use their artwork in this dismissive manner when the primary sources of it can be easily identified online, with full explanations and everything. Do I take special offense to this because of the misuse of artwork? Absolutely. Artists get disrespected enough online. I’m tired of it. This kind of laziness IS NOT acceptable.

7) x ‘timeline is fuzzy about when Shamu died’ …………… it’s…. It’s really not … newspapers are pretty clear about it…..

8) x [complete and utter oversimplification of the lifespan issue, which is not acceptable for anything published in 2020. It just isn’t. If you’re going to bring it up like this, either do the legwork and get into the weeds or stay out.] 8b) [same for reproductive ages. sigh]

9) x if we’re going to talk about when Cornell was involved with Seaworld it’s very important to specify when Cornell was involved with Seaworld and not make it seem like it’s present tense.

10) x “both were rescued by Seaworld” - uh? no. Zero orcas have been rescued by Seaworld. Literally none. The infected-jaw orca was Sandy, whose story is complex and certainly does not involve Seaworld until much later. And many of the orcas in that time period had bullet wounds, often only identified post-mortem because they didn’t seem to hurt the animals much. Also, unflinchingly blending 70s captivity ethics with modern ones is also complete nonsense? 

11) x [tilikum coming from sealand] inhales I am going to make an entire video centered on this fucking subject because it’s one of the single most profound arguments for Seaworld being garbage as assessed by US government agencies in the 90s yet everyone utterly fails to mention this. Why?!

12) x what on earth is this nonsense re: quoting a quote from Zimmerman’s article - which has already been removed from its original context, so the original context is not available - and then penalizing the quote for existing as if Zimmerman’s article were the context? That is offensively disingenuous. I honestly don’t know what the original context is, either - but it’s wildly inappropriate to act as if the Zimmerman article is.

13) x this is relatively minor but ‘Paul Sprong’? You literally have his name on the screen. And then mis-reading his age too? While asserting it from a static article published years ago? Effort? Where is it?

14) x ‘another trainer, Peter’ ….. Ken Peters…. 

15) [weirdly glossing over the widely-available list of orca-trainer injuries/aggressions, despite it being central to the point.] 16) x This pilot whale outrage certainly happened but it was pretty clearly Blackfish that started the cascade of woes for Seaworld. Who has ever asserted this?

17) if you’re gonna just rehash blackfish, tell people to go watch blackfish.

18) x I’ve already gone over the context issue with Seaworld calling out Howard’s statement in Blackfish here (point 23). Which is to say, IN CONTEXT in Blackfish it’s clear what Mr. Garrett is talking about but, divorced from that, it sounds incorrect. But this Youtuber AMPLIFIES the issue by doubling down on the assertion with “no record of a killer whale doing any harm to anyone in the wild.” The surfer event should always be mentioned. Yes, there’s absolutely room for doubt. But there’s also a clear demarcation between an accidental attack (eg mistaken identity, as was likely for the surfer) and intentional one (eg the incidents at marine parks.) Why do people kneecap themselves on this point 18b) please stop acting like Luna represents orcas in general.

19) x “Howard, for all of his research…” … while referring to David Duffus’ b-roll and statements. Uh. 20) x Apparently this Youtuber has single-handedly resolved the dorsal fin issue. You know, the thing that hasn’t been properly researched ever, that has been subject to a ton of debate, that isn’t 100% settled for a variety of reasons, and almost everyone talks about in terms of theories and likely possibilities.  21) x Alexis Martinez wasn’t “torn to shreds.” In a space where even moderate exaggerations are often penalized harshly by the opposition, this kind of blatant nonsense is not welcome. Plus, the reality’s bad enough… you don’t have to make anything up!

22) x *sighs. points at own webpage*

23) Talking about the shows stopping without acknowledging how that’s a bit of a farce is something else. In addition to apparently just flipping to buying what Seaworld’s selling re: its ‘improved image.’ 

*** Tl;dr video is so unrelentingly full of errors ranging from small to egregious it makes me seriously concerned for the veracity of the rest of this person’s content. The maker of the video provided a list of their sources in their video description, which I will have time to look through in detail later. The above is solely a response to the information they present IN THE VIDEO - which, is very important because let’s be real: a lot of people are not going to look at the list of sources. People don’t even do it when citing papers (no really, you’d be surprised, fml.) For anyone who wants to whinge that I haven’t linked or asserted any sources of my own for my claims… well, remember what I said about time-consuming and ‘I’m busy’? Yhea. Getting all of that together will be part of making a video. So if you want to shrug loudly at my list here… you can, that’s your prerogative, I’m happy to say I DGAF if that’s your takeaway. 

What I hope, is that if there’s anything I’ve made clear over the While of running this blog, it’s that I don’t fuck around when it comes to sources and information and do my best to provide what information exists, all of it, not just cherrypicked bits and bobs. Anyways. Here’s step 0 at least. Please don’t share that video. Pretty please.

[inkandpen22]

Years of Waiting

Pairing: Edmund Pevensie x Female!Reader

Warnings: None

Word count: 1.5k

Summary: Y/N is a princess visiting from another kingdom. She and Edmund have been secretly seeing each other for a while.

A/N: Possible mini-series??? Let me know! Happy to be back btw! 

Masterlist

It has been months since I’ve paid a visit to Narnia. I’ve missed its beaches, miles wide forests, rushing clearwater rivers, and most importantly its King. Though, I don’t tell many people of that last one... My father, the King of the Southern Isles, has sent me to act as an envoy. Our two kingdoms have to renew our centuries-old treaty, a job that may take months of negotiations. As the future ruler of the Isles, my father thought this would be good practice for me. In my mind, this trip gives me an excuse to spend some time with one particular Pevensie. In the letters exchanged between High King Peter and my father, Peter placed Edmund in charge of this task. Currently, the High King is occupied with some business in the north, something to do with giants. When I heard the news, I wasn’t exactly disappointed.

“Her Royal Highness, Princess Y/N of the Southern Isles,” the guard announces once we enter the grand throne room.

My eyes immediately land on King Edmund sitting on his throne surrounded by three empty ones. When he hears us coming, he rises from his seat with a gleaming smile. I curtsy to His Majesty once we’re at the foot of the steps leading up to the thrones.

“Your Majesty,” I greet with a grin.

“Princess Y/N,” Edmund strolls down the stairs. As I rise from my position, he takes my hand and brings it to his lips for a kiss. “Always a pleasure, he charms.

“The pleasure is all mine, Sir,” I flirt subtly as there are many eyes on us. “We shall host a feast tonight in honor of your arrival. Before then, I was hoping to lead you on a ride along the shores,” he offers.

“I would be delighted.” I accept, much to his pleasure. ___________________________ The first time we met Edmund was sixteen and I was fourteen. Now, I’m about to turn eighteen which will make me old enough to take my father’s place as ruler of the Southern Isles. Most importantly, my birthday means I’m old enough to marry. When the time comes my parents are hoping I marry a warrior or lord from our kingdom. The thought of marrying has been lingering over my head like a dark cloud considering I’m already in love with someone. One problem though, he’s a Narnian.

After a lovely ride through the wood and along the coast, Edmund and I stop by the far caves, away from the prying eyes of Cair Paravel. Edmund slips down from Philip and helps me off my horse as well.

“Let’s go for a swim!” He suggests enthusiastically, switching his sight between me and the ocean.

Already thinking ahead of him, I start to untie the laces of my dress. He chuckles and quickly joins in undressing, starting with kicking off his boots. After some scrambling, I’m dressed down to my chemise. I beat him to it and race toward the waves.

“Come on slowpoke!” I giggle as I turn back to see Edmund rushing. “Mr. Beaver moves faster than you!”

“Maybe when he’s swimming! I have him beat in walking considering he waddles!” He defends as he finishes up tossing his shirt to the sand and sprints toward me.

Immediately, Edmund picks me up, tossing me over his shoulder. I yelp as he playfully tosses me into deeper waters. The cool water encompasses me and I push off the sandy floor to the surface. I splash in Edmund’s direction and he attempts to dodge it but gets a direct hit to the face. He squeezes his eyes shut and wipes his face clear.

“Oh, you’re going to get it now!” He laughs, diving into the water to reach me.

I squeal and try to swim in the opposite direction. I stand no chance as I feel Edmund’s hand wrap around my ankle and yank me back to him. Water rushes around me in minor ripples as Edmund pulls me toward his chest. I drape my arms over his shoulder and he guides my legs around his waist. Mere inches from each other, our faces linger. His warm breath falls between his parted lips as we stare into each other’s eyes.

“God, I’ve missed you,” he mutters as his hand brushes across my cheek.

“I missed you more,” I challenge playfully.

He shakes his head gently and mumbles, “that’s impossible.”

Gently, he tucks his hand behind my head and brings our lips together for a soft kiss. Our first kiss since we saw each other almost a year ago at the Spring Festival. We’ve been in love since we were kids, yet our relationship has remained a secret for years now. Hidden kisses, secret nights out, discreet letters back and forth, it’s all we have. Whenever we’re in the same land we do everything we can to spend even minutes together alone. __________________________________________________ Spending the day on the beach has been perfect. As the sun starts to think about setting, Edmund and I continue to lay on the sand hand-in-hand to soak up the last minutes of sunlight.

“Let’s just skip the ball and stay here,” he suggests while relaxing beside me.

“We can’t, people will wonder where we are,” I responsibly consider.

“Let them.” He dismisses casually with a snicker as he brings our interlocked hands to his lips to plant a kiss on mine.

“They’ll assume we’re together!” I reason, flicking my head to the side to see his face.

“So?” He follows my actions and opens his eyes. “We are together...”

“Without a chaperone! My honor would be wrecked,” I remind him of that crucial detail.

“I think your honor was sort of shot too high Heaven after my last visit to the Southern Isles, don’t you think?” He snickers mischievously.

I gasp, swatting Edmund on the arm. “Ugh, seriously?!”

“Right, right, sorry,” he holds up his hands in surrender, but I can see the amusement in his eyes.

I huff, settling back down into my comfortable position.

He sighs in frustration, turning his eyes back to the sky above us. “I wish people knew about us. It would make everything easier.”

“All in good time,” I assure him calmly.

“Why must we wait?” He groans, despite knowing why.

“There’s protocol and-”

“Ugh, I’m so tired of formalities!” He huffs, sitting up from his laid position. “I’m the King of Narnia for goodness sake! I should make the rules!”

“You do,” I remind him confidently. “But you’re not the King of the Southern Isles. Peter may agree to us but my father...”

“Remember that time we snuck off after the council dinner two years ago?” Edmund recalls out of the blue. “You left hickeys all down my chest and I told Peter I had a bad duel training session,” he snickers as he admires the warm color palette of a sky.

I sigh, his mind sometimes makes me blush. “Ed this isn’t exactly-”

“Don’t you wish we could do that again,” he flickers his attention over to me with a grin.

I think of that night all the time. It was the first time we... never mind. “Well... I mean...” I stammer. “Yes but-”

Edmund doesn’t hesitate as he shifts to straddle me. In a swift movement, he takes my wrists and pins them down onto the side on either side of my head. A playful grin is etched across his lips as a soft chuckle escapes them. He laughs like a child but his actions are anything but childish as he starts to kiss my neck hungrily.

“No, Ed!” I giggle. “Stop it!”

“Only when you say the magic words,” he counters.

We’ve done it a million times before. I love this Edmund, the goofy and playful sort. Anytime we do anything somewhat competitive like riding or archery, we end up just like this. It’s all in good fun of course. One thing Edmund will never let me do is dual with him. He says ‘you’ll get hurt.’ As though my father doesn’t have me in training back home as a precaution.

“Say it! Say I’m the better rider!” He demands, continuing his assault.

“No, Philip is just the quicker horse!” I tease, wiggling in his hold.

“Say it!” Edmund repeats.

“No! I’ve been riding longer than you, remember?” I giggle.

“Marry me,” Edmund blurts out against my neck.

I stop wiggling as my chest sinks. Edmund rises from his hunched-over position to hover over me.

“Marry me, Y/N,” he repeats so gently that it nearly gets lost in the breeze.

He stares me in the eyes with such intensity, almost as though he didn’t mean to say it, as though it slipped out. Yet, now that he has said it, he awaits my answer.

“Yes,” I mutter with a hint of shakiness.

His eyes widen with surprise. “Really?! Truly, you’ll marry me?!” His grip around my wrist tightens slightly.

“Yes!” I giggle with joy.

He shares in my joy and leans down to plant a passionate kiss on my lips.

“Heavens, I love you so much!” He mumbles against my lips.

“I love you more!” I smile into the kiss.

Now, all we have to do is tell the others... that’s where the real trouble begins.

_______________________

Masterlist

[silverhandsamurai]

Heat • River Ward/Fem!V • NSFW

warnings; nsfw, minor swearing, sexual content 

summary; River needs a comforting touch V helps out.

Setting; postgame • dating a while

River had been short-tempered all day. His latest case was driving him up the wall. Countless leads leaving him empty-handed. Wanting to distract him I offered to take him out to lunch at the Chubby Buffalo. 

Not even a minute after our food arrived he was twirling his fork looking off into the distance.

" So I finally finished that gig in Watson today."

" Uh-huh."

" I danced on the moon."

" Uh-huh."

He wasn't paying attention at all. I didn't truly mind I knew he was working hard doesn't mean I wouldn't tease him about his lack of attention.

"So River mind helping me rob Arasaka and Militech of all their secrets?"

" Uh-huh."

I gave a sudden laugh jarring River from his thoughts as he suddenly held his fork a little too tightly and looked at me wide-eyed.

"Really officer? You'll help me steal? How sweet of you."

Heaving a sigh River leaned back giving me an apologetic look.

"Sorry. This case just has me going crazy."

I shook my head and reached across the table to take his free hand in my mine and lace our fingers together. " Hey, I get it. No need to explain. Happens to everyone. "

Relief flashed across his face and he gave my hand a soft squeeze. " You are amazing you know that?"

"Oh, I know. Keep goin' tell me more." 

I chimed grinning back at him playfully.  He hummed in thought for a moment before taking a sip of his drink. " Nah. Got nothin' more to say." 

I felt another laugh bubble up at his cheeky rebuttal. 

Finally calming down for a moment River started to eat his meal as he listened to me give all the fun details I had from dealing with my last gig.

We parted ways after lunch and I didn't hear from him until I got a message late in the evening.

It was really short and odd.

Hotel. Room 202.

He then sent another message with the hotel address attached.

Wasn't like River at all. 

I knew something was wrong.

Arriving at the hotel it was in the middle of the city. Not too fancy, but not rundown either. I walked through the lobby and no one was at the front desk so I just headed for the stairs checking each room number with a glance.

Once I found the right one I gave it a few solid knocks. 

I heard rustling on the other side of the door. Rocking back on my heels nervously I felt my mind racing as I waited for River to answer the door. 

Finally, it slid open to reveal him standing there looking as restless as I felt. " What the hell happened?" He shook his head and stepped aside to let me in. Confused I walked in and after the door closed I spun on my heel to glare at him. I was worried and he wasn't saying anything.

" Talk. You are seriously this close to- " Before I could say he was pissing me off River had slammed his mouth on mine and his hands were holding my hips firm.

Damn...he felt good. 

But as much as I wanted to give in to him I wanted answers first.

Reluctantly I pulled away nipping at his bottom lip as he hooked his grip under my thighs and lifted me. My legs naturally wrapped around his waist and my hands clutched his shirt.

" The client dropped the case. All that work was for nothing. " 

I could hear the anger and disappointment in his tone. I knew how much River prided himself on his work ethic and what being a private investigator meant to him. He always put everything into all his cases. Hours of effort and time. To have one of those cases suddenly ripped away was torture.

I knew then why he had messaged me.

River was seeking comfort and I was more than happy to provide it.

Tugging on his shirt I kissed him roughly.

Soon clothes fell left and right until no barrier stood between us.

Reaching out for him I slide down his body as he leaned back against the wall. My hands and tongue flowed along the curve of his hips edging lower. His breath halted and his hands were fast to grip my hair holding me still. He was pulsing filled with heat against my tongue as I eased him past my lips. 

It was hard not to have my throat tighten. 

He was thick and overwhelming.

I couldn't breathe...

I didn't care...

Deeper I pushed him drinking up his scolding touch. Even though I was in his grip it was my every move that was making him arch to my mercy.

It felt powerful having this man rendered helpless against me. 

A lick here or there. He was trembling.

His hands would rake through my hair making my scalp sting. 

" Fuck, V..."

His sudden raspy curse sent shivers down my spine. River's voice was huskily laced with a dripping want. River yanked me back suddenly causing pain to course throughout my head as his hold was unforgiving and aggressive.

I had pushed him close to the edge and he wasn't ready to fall yet. 

Instantly I was frustrated that he had stopped me. My body was craving his touch so I leaned towards him as he towered above me.

" Give me more.." A plead and a command. I was begging, but also demanding for him to take me.  River pulled me up by my hair then captured my lips silently giving in to my request.

His tongue thrust into my mouth.

Long, thick, and warm.

Filling my mouth.

Claiming it. 

Letting me taste and savor him.

He pushed and I pulled a power play. My hands were rough as I held him against the wall forcing him to submit. This taste. This touch.

 I needed more I needed to feel engulfed by it. 

Hunger surrounding me swallowing me in its embrace I leaned back falling into the bed beckoning with a wave of my hand for him to follow. His stance tensed and his jaw locked as he stalked forward the tension rippling off his skin as he edged to the bed. 

Such a large man unraveling within my grasp. Yearning for me with such need that just by looking at him I could see how much he wanted me.

The sight made me squeeze my thighs together as the ache inside me grew.

"Come here closer....hurry..."

I knew how desperate I sounded but I didn't care I needed to feel him right away. River answered without a word his lips on mine again. Gasping I could feel all of him. 

His touch. 

His heat. 

The pressure made my toes curl and my thighs shake as I gripped clawing at his back. It was burning this craving ache making me succumb to its whims.

Groaning deeply in my ear I knew River felt it too. Unbound tension building.  

It wasn't enough. 

Pushing using my weight I shoved River beneath me.  My hands gliding to his neck gripping tight forcing his focus on me. My back arched as I sank down on him my hands becoming talons as I ran my nails into his skin. 

Marking him as he did me.

River was biting his lip hard as his hands set firmly on my hips weighing me down. Anchoring me to him. I resisted pushing against his touch my hips dancing on their own.

My breath grew shallow as I felt my sweat become liquid heat along my hips licking at my sore muscles. I leaned forward losing some of my strength as my legs trembled.

The ache and need inside I couldn't reach it anymore. 

Begging River with just a look my eyes reflecting my inner struggle he was quick to act. His strong arms held me as he pushed up reaching far into my depths. My voice left me as my back hit the sheets. Powerful long strokes. Grinding me into the bed.

I was helpless my strength spent as my hands were barely able to hold onto his shoulders. He kept going supporting me never relenting.

The ache was like hot water now washing over me. Numbing me and burning me at the same time.

"River...please..."

Whimpers melded into moans as our voices entangled together. Every movement of River dulled the ache burning inside. Surrendering myself bliss took over soon as my mind and body felt engulfed. 

River's hands pried into my skin as I felt him yield to the same bliss.

His voice was raw as he held himself over me sweat falling down his brow.

So strong and wild.

I smiled fondly at him before kissing his breathless lips softly as he drifted down from his high. Pulling back I ran my thumb over River's swollen bottom lip and his dark and hazy eye followed my motions silently. 

Locking my eyes with his River gave me a warm smile as he caressed my waist.

" At this point, there is no hope for me now "

Tilting my head in confusion I eased into the bed lazily " What are you talking about?"

River let out a chuckle as he trailed kisses along my arm. " You told me not to fall in love with you, but every moment I spend with you I just keep falling more and more."

"Well, officer seems I'm guilty of the same crime. "

-------------------------------------------------------

Was requested a nsfw piece for River so here it is.