#nor can it be written in a way that’s obvious

[hargreeves-duncan]

Can I request five x reader (takes place in s2) where reader (five’s partner) gets sent to Dallas around a year before five comes and after he does and reader sees him, she immediately tackles him on the spot and gives him many kisses. Maybe reader manages to work at a casino too

a/n: hi, thank you so much for your request! i haven’t written in a while so i'd love to hear your thoughts, enjoy!!

summary: it's been far too long since you've seen your boyfriend - he learns that the affectionate way.

warnings: reader works at a casino but there’s no actual gambling so🤷‍♀️

word count: 1.4k

You had to hand it to yourself, for someone who’d known next to nothing about life in the 1960s, you’d adapted pretty well. In no time at all, you’d managed to land yourself a job as a waitress in a casino. A very good one. It seemed in this timeline, Jack Ruby thought a casino would be a better investment than a night club - and for your part, you couldn’t say that he was wrong, nor could you complain.

The hours were long, but the pay was good enough and the other girls had taken you in as one of their own. You quickly began to excel. Strolling between the tables and flashing smiles was easy, second nature even. You developed the wit and charisma to charm the casino’s patrons without second thought, which meant you got more drinks served, more loyal customers and bigger tips to go along with them. 

Most nights the new life you’d built for yourself was more than enough but sometimes, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t help but yearn for what had come before - who had come before.

There was always a dull ache in your chest whenever you caught a fleeting glimpse of a lone, brown-haired man at one of the tables. In those moments, you could never stop yourself from believing for a slither of a second that Five had made it and he’d come right back to you.

You’d waited for him in that dingy, old alley for two weeks straight, because you knew that Five would never abandon his family like that. That something must’ve gone wrong, but it was okay because he’d come back and everything would be fine. That was what you told yourself. You were so sure he’d show up and solve everything in an instant, because that was what he always did. And when he hadn’t, it had almost destroyed you.

The first few months were gruelling, taking your first steps in the new world had taken a while. Grieving Five had taken longer. The obvious truth was staring you in the face. A year without contact from him or any of the other Hargreeves siblings? The probability was that you were the only one who had survived.

It was a truth that you were reluctant to admit, even now. One that led you to where you are today, starting yet another night shift, beside the casino’s bar, to serve a particularly rowdy Friday night crowd of patrons.

As you begin to set up, Mary-Anne, one of the other waitresses on shift, sidles up to you. Her honey-blonde curls bouncing around her ears as she leans against the bar. Trying to stifle her laugh, in her southern drawl, she says, “Has he tried talking to you yet?”

You raise an eyebrow at her, tilting your head to the side, “Has who tried talking to me yet?”

Her grin grows wider as she gestures to a table on the far corner of the room, laughing, “That little boy. Haven’t I said a million times that we oughta get tighter on the security in this place?”

She sighs, resting her hands on her hips, “I went over to him - trying to tell him that we don’t allow minors in here - and what’d he do?”

Deciding to humour her, you smile, looking down at her, “I’ve got no idea, tell me.”

She scoffs, shaking her head as she smiles, “He told me that he more than knew his way around place a place like this and that I had nothing to worry about with him. Can you imagine having the nerve like that at his age?”

The thought made you laugh. It reminded you of Five. His haggard temper in the body of his younger self always seemed to shock people in the very same way. You paused. It couldn’t be him, couldn’t it? You must be jumping to conclusions. After all this time, it’d make no sense if he was here now and yet…

“He said that?” You ask, eyebrows furrowing as you glance between the table and Mary-Anne. You squint, trying to see if you could recognise him.

A part of you felt silly and girlish for still holding out hope but this kid’s description was just too similar and besides, you were a teenager again, you were allowed to be lovesick and entirely delusional. It was practically your god-given right.

Mary-Anne nodded, loading her tray up with drinks of all shapes and sizes to cover her half of the room, “He did.”

Your eyes were locked onto the distant table, practically pleading for the kid to just turn around and let your hopes down already. Still, all that greeted you was the back of his head and the green fuzz of the poker table in front of him.

When you didn’t tear your eyes away, Mary-Anne looked you up and down, her baby blue eyes swimming with concern, “You alright there?”

Looking back at her, you sigh, already pent up at the possibility of Five being so close, “Yeah, I just… What did he look like?” You ask tentatively, biting your rouge-tinted, bottom lip between your teeth.

Mary-Anne hums in thought as she loads your tray for you, “Gosh, I don’t know - he had dark hair, was wearing a suit. It had the funniest, little emblem on it.” She says, tapping her chest in place of where it would’ve been.

Your eyes widen in shock and excitement as you process her words, “An umbrella! It was an umbrella, wasn’t it?”

Mary-Anne grins, giggling, “It was… how’d you know that?”

You couldn’t even answer her. You were already starting to tremble and hyperventilate, entirely overcome with nerves and joy and pure, unbridled excitement all at once. A year of being apart and now he was no more than a few strides away. Your smile brightens up like no other.

You slip your tray from over your head and place it down on the bar as you say, “Hey, cover for me, would you? I’ll be two seconds.”

Without waiting for her answer, you dash across the room - a flurry of giddiness bubbling up inside of you the closer you get. You tousle your hair and straighten your uniform, anything to keep your anxious fingers busy and to better yourself for something you’ve waited for for far too long.

Hearing heels coming towards him again, Five sighs in frustration and turns around in his chair, “Lady, I already told you-“

The breath feels like it’s been stolen from your throat as he turns to face you. It’s really, truly him. Your boyfriend is right there in front of you and you’ve never felt more relief than in this moment.

“Y/N.”

You’re not sure if you want to cry or scream or simply just take him in for the first time all over again. As you look over him, his piercing gaze, his dark hair and the freckle on his right cheek that you can’t count the number of times you’ve kissed, your eyes can’t help but be drawn to his lips.

God, how you’ve missed the feeling of them. You barely have time to think about what you’re doing before you’re cupping his face and pressing your lips against his once more, savouring every part of him in a way you’d never thought to before.

Your hands trail over every callous in his skin, memorising him with your fingertips, and as you pull back, Five’s gaze softens like nothing else as he smirks, “Hello, you.”

His hands reach out to cup your face, gazing over you as if he’s not entirely sure that you’re real. After all your time apart, you’re not sure either. You smile, nodding, “It’s me. It’s you. You’re here, you’re really here!”

You cup his face in return and you can’t help but press another kiss to his lips. He smiles fondly as you do. And so you kiss him again… and again on his cheek… and on his freckle… his chin… his forehead. Everywhere your lips can reach, you press them.

After a moment, he laughs weakly and reaches up to pull your hands away from his face and intertwines them with his own fingers instead, “Okay, love.” He says chasteningly, “Let’s calm down there, shall we?”

Your smile grows shyer as you right yourself, “Sorry.” You say, brushing your hair away from your face.

He shakes his head, brushing your hair back for you and then guiding you by the waist to the seat beside him, “No, don’t be sorry. Don’t ever be sorry. Believe me, I’m just as happy to see you. Really.”

It’s him who initiates the kiss this time. He’s soft, delicate almost, in the way that he kisses you, as if each movement of his lips is a new way of giving all of his love to you and promising that he won’t ever let you out of his sights again.

[cavegirlpoems]

Further thoughts.

There is a tendency to write settings - particularly for interactive media like ttrpgs, larps, etc - that are essentially gender-blind, where you can create whoever you want without that having an effect on the game. The decision to be gay, or a woman, or trans, or a gay trans woman with pink hair is an aesthetic choice that will not give you a meaningfully different experience in the game.

This rather kneecap's the setting's ability to tell queer stories, imho. If we take it as read that queerness refers to gender- and sexuality-based identities and behaviours that fall outside of the societal norms, then the experience of falling outside those societal norms is (rather tautologically) a key element of queerness.

So, in a completely gender-blind setting, one can't - tautologically - be gender-nonconforming. There is no expectation to conform to. The experience of queerness, of being outside of societal norms, becomes null and void. Such a setting will feature homosexuality, but it won't feature gay pride, and nor will it need to as none of the societal forces that led to the pride movement exist.

This is a double-edged sword. On the one hand, a world where one is not oppressed for one's identity is an enjoyable world to explore for what should be obvious reasons. On the other hand, it becomes impossible to tell (say) a coming-out story in a world where there's no closet to be in to begin with.

There is also the element that whilst a setting may say its gender-blind, it's still written and played in by people from the real world, who still subconsciously inherit real-world biases, and this can be reflected in the world.

While (say) women might have just as much right to political power as men, if in practice the people with political power are disproportionately men, that sexism is still present. Far from removing it, the gender-blindness of the setting simply obfuscates it, and often actively proves an obstacle to addressing it; one cannot call somebody out in character for sexism in a setting where sexism doesn't exist, no matter how sexist they're being.

(Similar biases around sexuality, transness, polyamory, kink, aceness, etc also creep in).

(In many cases, this can also apply to other axes of marginalisation, such as race, etc. However, in a lot of settings this doesn't apply the same way. Many fantasy settings are deeply opinionated about a character's ancestry; see the D&D skull-callipers explaining that elves are just more intelligent and agile than everybody else, and this being a mechanically enforced fact in the world.)

My point, anyway, is that in these cases efforts towards inclusivity can paradoxically erase that which they seek to include. One cannot represent the lived experience of a marginalised identity in a setting that totally denies the existence of that marginalisation.

[ickadori]

OMG I love you mean reader au, I have a question!!

¿Does the reader ever makes Yuuji jealous on purpose? Maybe with someone they don't see as often because everyone close knows Yuujis girl backs and also bites , so I can see her doing it with maybe someone from Kyoto.

I feel Yuuji is the kind to let it pass or act oblivious cuz he knows I would piss her off but when they are on private he let's her know that playing stupid games lead you to win stupid prices.

Anyways as you can see I'm super super invested in you au, you are an amazing writer❤️

[cws] fem reader. i named the kyoto student ryo. sukuna takes over at the end. anal at the end. overstimulation. half a sprinkle of impact play -> like 2 spanks.

You’re always so dismissive to everyone, especially to those who aren’t in your inner circle. If you don’t interact with them on a daily basis, you couldn’t care less to hear what they have to say, and it’s not an unusual sight to see you rudely walk away mid conversation.

The same could be said for the Kyoto students.

You weren’t friendly with any of them, and had even ended up on bad terms with a few due to your nature. Yuji had been sure he was going to have to intervene in at least five times with the same person in order to keep the peace during their impromptu visit, but to his surprise, to everyone’s surprise, you had been on your best behavior.

You had greeted everyone, albeit with an annoyed ‘hey’ followed by a roll of your eyes, but that was leagues better than what you had done last year! When Todo had intruded on you and Yuji’s conversation, you hadn’t tried to smash Maki’s cursed tool against his head like you usually do, but had rather pursed your lips and excused yourself from the conversation, leaving him to listen to tales about Takada and other nonsensical things.

All in all, the day was going alright. You hadn’t gotten into a heated argument with anyone, nor had he sensed any spikes in cursed energy for the last hour or so that you had been out of his sight. Deciding that he’d just about enough of Todo droning on and on about the feeling of Takada’s hand in his own, Yuji begins to plot his escape.”

“It was a riveting—”

“You heard that?” Yuji cuts Todo off, eyebrows furrowed as he cups his hand to his ear. “I think that’s my girlfriend screaming in agonizing pain—gotta go.” He jogs away, ignoring the call of his name, and snickers to himself as he rounds the corner, one hand slipping into his pocket to retrieve his phone.

Just where are you, he thinks to himself as he scrolls to your contact, a smile breaking out onto his face at the sight of your contact picture. It showcased you giving him an annoyed look, face scrunched up cutely as you had your hand raised, a failed attempt to block your face from the camera. He shoots you a quick text asking where you are, followed by a barrage of heart emojis and kiss emojis, and he stops in front of the vending machine as he waits for your reply, deciding to buy himself and you a drink.

He’s halfway through his soda when you suddenly come rounding the corner, and he smiles as he pockets his phone, only for his smile to falter a bit when he notices that you’re smiling too, at someone that isn’t him—which isn’t a problem in and of itself! Yuji isn’t some crazy jealous guy, but it’s weird to see you look so… jolly. Who are you talking to?

A second person comes around the corner, and his face sours as he recognizes it as Kyoto’s newest 3rd year, Ryo. Yuji tries to be friendly with everyone, but he written the man off from the moment he saw him, not liking the way his eyes had raked you up and down while you had standing right beside Yuji—what was he, blind? It had been so obvious the two of you were together, what with the way Yuji had been trying to fuse your mouths together.

“Yuji,” you call, eyes crinkling as you grab ahold of Ryo’s wrist and pulls him over. Yuji takes another sip of his soda, cursing to himself when he feels Sukuna start to stir inside him. “You remember Ryo, right?”

It’s a tease—he knows it is. He had spent the better half of an hour that day complaining to you about him, while Sukuna had laughed and suggested he ‘pluck his fucking eyes out next time, brat, problem solved’, which he would never do, obviously, but the idea was a bit enticing…especially now, as Yuji is forced to watch the way Ryo takes in your ass when you stretch up to place a kiss on his cheek while you take your drink from his hand.

“He says he’s been thinking about transferring here, right?” You direct your attention to Ryo as you spin around, his eyes darting up to your face, and Yuji can’t keep his clear annoyance off his face.

“Right. I’m really liking the vibe here for some reason.” He grins, and Yuji nearly drags you away in response.

“Hm. Wonder why that is?” You giggle, fucking giggle, and an anger that’s part his own and part his curse’s begins to fester in his gut. Yuji sees the two of you stiffen, no doubt due to Sukuna’s sudden spike in energy, and he gathers the back of your shirt in his hand, the veins along the back of his hand protruding as he tugs you back into him. “Y… Yuji?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” His chin hovers over your shoulder as he stares Ryo down, and something must show in his eyes then, because Ryo is flinching back and stuttering over his words as he takes slow steps back. “Did you want Sukuna?”

“No.” You hastily reply, and the bottle in your hand crinkles as your grip on it tightens.

“‘S that because you think I’m gonna go easy on you?”

“…”

“Because I’m not.”

~

The unmistakable ‘plap plap’ of Yuji’s hips snapping into your own is loud in the confined space, and you lift a shaky hand, intending on using it to push at his stomach. It’s snatched and pushed down against your chest before you can even fully raise it, and your mouth opens on a silent cry when he slams his cock into you.

“Yu—!”

He grunts, the hand that had been holding him above you moving to cover your mouth, leaving him no choice but to crush you with his weight. “Don’t -shit- call my name.” He rasps, beads of sweat rolling down the slope of his nose just as he rolls his hips into your, pelvis grinding down against your clit with every movement.

You’re sensitive, sore, and every touch, every stroke, sends a pleasurable pain zapping through your body. You don’t know how many times you’ve come, or how long it’s been since Yuji practically dragged you into a supply closet and got you down on your back, with Sukuna goading him on the entire time.

‘You gonna finally put her in her place, brat?’

‘Y’know she’s gonna do it again unless you punish her.’

‘Look how she was smiling. She did it on purpose. You’re too soft on her - let me deal with it.’

‘What’re you doing, idiot? Get your mouth off her cunt. Is this a fucking reward or a punishment?’

‘Slap her around—shut up, girl. Do it. She likes it, see? Look at the mess she’s making on our cock.’

A particularly hard thrust has your eyes rolling and your toes curling in your loafers, and your mouth falls open when he brushes against that spot, eyebrows pulling together as a fresh bout of tears spring to your eyes.

“You crying now?” Sukuna snarks, and Yuji falters, his eyes popping open from where they had been squeezed shut to look at your face. “Don’t fucking stop, she’s fine, she’s—”

“Yuji.”

“Sweet girl,” he answers, hands moving to cup the sides of your face. “Don’t cry - are you sensitive?” You weakly nod, cunt fluttering as he runs his nose along your cheek. “Do you want me to be softer? Just tell…” Yuji goes slack against you, and your eyes widen, hands moving to push at his shoulders, only for them to tense under your grip as a low laugh leaves him.

“Sukuna,” it comes out in a pitiful whine, and you wince at the slow drag of his cock along your walls as he pulls out, thick shaft sliding up between your folds as he bumps the head against your clit.

“It’s been a while,” his head pulls back, allowing you to see the grin stretched across his face, and you drop your gaze as you keep your mouth, earning another laugh. “What? Don’t tell me you’re scared.” His touch is rough as he grips at your sides, nails biting into your skin, and you gasp when he’s suddenly flipping you over, one hand leaving your waist to smack at your ass. “Do it how I like it.”

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you shuffle so you’re up on your knees, butt lifted into the air while your chest is flush to the floor. Sukuna smacks you again, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass, and you can’t help the moan that slips out when he spreads you open, his hips jutting forward so he can rut his cock against your cunt, a jolt racing up your spine when he goes over your clit.

“Ah, poor pussy is sensitive, yeah?” His tone is mocking, but you nod nonetheless. “Hm.” He pops the tip into your hole, fucking it in just a bit before pulling it back out to continue what he was doing. “Guess we’ve gotta pick another hole then, don’t we?”

“Suku—ah!” His hand reaches underneath you to deliver a swift slap to your cunt, fingers catching your clit, and you let out a pitiful little whimper.

“Quiet.” He spreads you open further, and a shaky breath leaves you when a glob of split lands on your puckered hole, his thumb spreading the wetness around before slowly pushing it in. “Only the good little girls get to speak.”

His cockhead replaces his thumb, and your breath comes out in pants as he eases himself in, stretching you impossibly wide as he forces himself to fit.

“I hope you’re watching, brat — no worries if you aren’t, I don’t mind repeating the lesson later.”

[huginsmemory]

Ideology of Exceptionalism and Gravity Falls; meta and character analysis

I had a whole ago read a post by @icanlife that had a quote by Alex Hirsch on Ford's greatest flaw, and wanted to explore what the flaw is, which is the ideology of exceptionalism; in the exploration, I’ll touch on what it is and how it is used in abusive relationships and cults, as well as how it drives multiple Gravity Falls characters and consequently how it impacts relationships between these characters, and how the show ultimately refutes exceptionalism.

Quick note here; I am not in any way, shape or form a psychologist nor have any formal training in psychology; this is written from my own experiences with this ideology and my own forays into psychology and trauma-informed learning. It is also written with a loose understanding that is likely not broad enough to cover all references to cults, extremist groups and abusive relationships. 

The Ideology of Exceptionalism 

First of all, we have to get through a drier bit, which is… what is the ideology of exceptionalism and how does it arise? Might be fairly obvious, but it is the belief that you are, or belong to, a group of exceptional people, thus more important and worth more than anyone else; ie, those who don't qualify as 'exceptional'. It is often a subconsciously learned ideology. Now, what qualifies one as exceptional can be extremely varied; generally it revolves around something that provides some form of privilege. Thus, it might be, as the main exceptionalist idea in Gravity Falls, 'intelligence', or power, or it can be such things as attractiveness, quantity of money one has, species, nationality, or skin colour and ancestral heritage. The ideology of exceptionalism, being by nature hierarchical, devalues, and at its worst, openly and violently dehumanizes those who do not qualify as exceptional. 

For why exceptionalism occurs is an extremely broad topic, but I've personally found that, for exceptionalism revolving around intelligence, it's a result of a poor sense of self-worth, and having one's self-worth tied to what makes one exceptional. Poor self-worth itself (again, broadly) is a result of childhood trauma from a lack of positive affirmation and unfulfillment of the emotional needs of the child. Meanwhile, self-worth becoming tied to the quality of exceptionalism generally is a result of when positive affirmation was pretty much solely provided around their 'exceptionalism', especially when provided derogatory commentary, or a blatant example of how they would be treated if they aren't 'exceptional'. As a result of the general lack of affirmation, self-worth then becomes often solely reliant on the qualities of exceptionalism, as that is the only way for the child (and later, adult) to get affirmation of their worth, as well as out of fear of being ‘not worth anything’ like the examples of ‘non-exceptional’ people they have been given. 

This is especially likely to occur when the child is a social outcast; the adoption of the hierarchical ideology of exceptionalism, and the devaluation/dehumanization of others often occurs subconsciously as an avoidance/minimization tactic from pain. This is to say, the child, and later the adult (if healthy self-worth is not established) goes 'it doesn't matter what the non-exceptional people say or if they accept me since I matter more than them because of my exceptionality'. It can even be taken further, that being shunned is part of one's exceptionalism, and becomes part of the qualifier of being exceptional. For instance, 'they just can't understand because they aren't exceptional and that's just a part of being exceptional'. This idea also neatly tailors into the part of the concept of being better then others means you are separate from others; this can be taken that someone who is special, needs to be alone to be truly special.

Obviously, exceptionalism is not a healthy coping mechanism for poor self-worth, as often such people constantly feel the need to prove and show off their exceptionalism to gain that affirmation and avoid rejection, which is stressful. As well, it often negatively impacts their relationships with other people as a result of the arrogance of believing that they are better than most others, or even deliberate sabotage due to their arrogance. This occurs as they flatten the complexity of human experience to black-and-white hierarchical categories of exceptional/not-exceptional through constant judgement of those they meet, and often refuse to engage with people who don't belong to their 'exceptionality', or even people they simply don't like, even if they technically qualify. Generally, those that they do like or have close relationships with, often due to being similar, are automatically labelled as 'exceptional'. Those judged as ‘exceptional’ also become privy to the open judgements of ‘non-exceptional’ others, out of a subconscious belief by the exceptionalist that the other believes similarly; something that may strain their relationship if the other doesn’t ascribe to exceptionalism. This all culminates in the exceptionalist being blind or even adverse to the diversity of experiences, which makes it difficult to create relationships and community outside of echo chambers of their own beliefs (if they can even find this), and subsequently, these people are often isolated and have very few to no close relationships with people. 

However, all humans require connections with other people, relationships where one can rely on others emotionally and physically if needed and feel accepted; they also require to feel like they are worth something, that their life has meaning. Lacking meaningful connections and having a crippled sense of self-worth, a deep yearning hole is left in these people. Exceptionalism, especially as it is a narrative constantly pushed by Western society as it validates hierarchies, is then employed as a (often subconscious) trauma response to assuage this yearning hole, with arrogance and denial. And depending on the circumstances, it can be a very strong and definitive trauma response for people.

This isolation and lack of self-worth is catnip to abusive relationships, including cults and extremist groups. These types of relationships often heavily rely on isolating their victims or pulling them into echo chambers of solely the abuser’s rhetoric, to redefine what is healthy through gaslighting; as the exceptionalists are already isolated, this makes them extremely susceptible. They also often provide these people affirmation, and in these cases especially about their exceptionalism, thus confirming their self-worth, their 'specialness', while also providing them the connection they have been lacking, either through the cult community or through the abuser’s own presence. These emotional needs, which haven’t been met in a long time, if ever, begin to be fulfilled; something that abusive relationships and cults hinge on, rather than any form of logic.

Ideology of Exceptionalism and Gravity Falls

The main characters within Gravity Falls which are heavily ascribed to exceptionalism would be both Ford and Bill; this characterization deeply impacts the story and their relationships with others (technically the Northwest are another case regarding wealth, but less directly impact the storyline and thus tangential; Gideon also is an example, but as a mirror of Bill). With each of these characters I’ll go into detail within their sections on the way they began to ascribe to exceptionalism, and how it plays out later in their relationships; I will first begin with Ford, then move to Bill. Then, to cap it off, I’ll go into the characterization of Stan and the way Gravity Falls refutes exceptionalism. 

Ford and Exceptionalism

Firstly, the quote from Alex Hirsch that kicked this whole baby off, as mentioned previously; 

“Ford sees Dipper as someone who’s special like himself. That’s Ford’s great flaw, his arrogance is he believes that there’s special people, and everyone else. That human attachments are actually weaknesses. And the song and dance that he’s giving Dipper right now, is the song and dance that he gave McGucket, back when they were younger… ‘You and me are different, we’re better than everyone else. We have a path that no one else can understand, and only us can do this.’ It’s a very seductive idea for Dipper… Dipper is a smart kid, but Ford’s projecting. Ford loves Dipper because he sees someone who’ll tell him ‘yes’ to everything. Who’ll never challenge him, who’ll do a really insane dangerous mission.”

Very blatantly Alex Hirsch calls Ford out on his arrogance in the belief that he is special, in his belief in the 'lone hero' complex, in his belief in exceptionalism. And really, it should be no surprise that Ford does so, considering the way he's depicted as a social outcast as a child (other than Stan), and the way his parents have been clearly shown to be not particularly emotionally supportive (“I’m not impressed”); they don't provide positive affirmation except for his intelligence (mostly due to the possibility of money making through it…), while also actively comparing him to Stan who is derogatorily ‘not-exceptional’, and ‘worth less’. This all sets Ford’s self-worth up to be fragile, and other than Stan who wholeheartedly accepts him, he is isolated and invalidated; plus, the only other validation he receives is around his intelligence. All very classically fitting the profile for exceptionalism.

Image id: Stand and Ford when they were children, both clearly enjoying each other's company.

Ford’s belief in his exceptionalism catalyzes after the shattering of his and Stan’s relationship. Previously the twins are shown to do everything together, having a very close caring relationship; something unlikely if Ford thought he was better than Stan. Also, when Ford is talked to about his opportunities, Ford looks uncomfortable at the way they talk about Stan as inferior, compared to how he himself is being praised; but in the offer he’s simultaneously finally being validated, he’s being told he’s someone worth something, and he’s going to be someone worth something after this. And then the science fair incident occurs, and Ford loses that validation from his parents, from the judges and a future of more validation; after being promised validation and acceptance, it slips through his fingers. And in his anger of being denied that, it becomes easy to begin to slip subconsciously into the rhetoric the others have been feeding him; that he’s exceptional, that Stan isn’t, and he deserved to be recognized for his worth. So he breaks the relationship with the only person who accepted and validated him for who he is. With that loss of previous support, Ford becomes then deeply obsessed with proving his exceptionalism to the world to assuage that fragile self-worth, to become accepted, or even better, revered, confirming that he is someone of worth, someone special, like he was promised. 

Ford’s obsession also doubly functions as a way to alleviate his guilt over shattering their relationship; if he’s exceptional as he believes, then he’s within the right to respond the way he did, as he’s worth more than Stan, he's better off alone, and he has a right to be angry over being denied that validation. As well, in much the same way as it is used as a way to alleviate his guilt over the end of their relationship, it is also likely used in a way to minimize the pain of being ostracized (although not directly depicted); afterall, Ford’s keenly aware and insecure about his social ineptitude and his six fingers as things that make him different from other people, case in point with his experience visiting Lazy Susans Diner. Thus it wouldn’t be unsurprising if he uses the idea of being worth more than those who ostracize him to imply it ‘doesn’t matter’ what they think. His ostracization by nature keeps him from generally forming close relationships, with the exception of Fiddleford (who much like him, is socially outcast, and intelligent) during his university days. As a result, he's isolated and acutely lonely, having lost Stan.

Image id: One of the missing Journal 3 pages in TBOB, detailing Ford's botched social interaction in Lazy Susans Diner. In the background is the print of his six-fingered hand.

In his obsession over being acknowledged, Ford, like many others who believe in exceptionalism, identifies strongly with the causes of his ostracization (his intelligence, his six-fingeredness) as part of, or wholly, makes him exceptional. It is obvious through his choice of study; with the grant he has been gifted, he chooses to revolve his work around the weird, the outcast, something that you see Ford gravitate towards being an outcast and deemed 'weird' himself (which in Journal 3 he openly talks about). Something that can be, much like him, framed as 'exceptional'. His work is even recorded in a journal that Ford deliberately chooses to put his six-fingered hand on the cover of. Intertwined with the way it becomes adopted into the idea of exceptionalism, is the keen loneliness from his ostracization and a deep desire to be accepted and a wish to find a community of other weird people.

Image id: Two pages from journal 3, labelled 'Myself', in which Ford is open about being weird, and a social outcast, while also noting his ambitions and that 'Gravity Falls, [is] the place that I fit in.'

Ford and Bill

All of this culminates in Ford becoming an incredibly easy target to manipulate by Bill. He’s desperate to be acknowledged (and thus accepted) by an authority figure so that his belief in exceptionalism is justified and his self-worth confirmed. And he knows he’s intelligent, that he's exceptional because people have told him so, but he just needs to prove it with something that shakes the world. And the grant is finally his second chance after the fair, but he's stuck, and the research is going nowhere, and he's in a town where he doesn't really know anyone and he’s so terribly lonely. And sure, he clings to his exceptionalism but if he can't even prove it then is he really exceptional? Is he even worth anything like he thought he was? And what about what he's left behind, rejected, because of his exceptionalism?

And THEN he finds an incantation and he ignores the warnings because maybe, just maybe, this will be his break to get that acceptance/validation he has been chasing his whole life? 

And then it's better than that. 

A god, essentially, shows himself to him, an ultimate figure of authority. And he tells him that yes, he is special, he’s worth more than other people, and Bill’s only showing himself to Ford because he is so much more intelligent than anyone else. Ford is suddenly getting his exceptionalism confirmed by a god of ancient knowledge, an immensely intelligent interdimensional being, and he’s also showering him with affirmations, specifically affirmations around what Ford's fragile self-worth is based on. And even better, he's delighted by Ford's six-fingeredness; he's not put off at all, it even becomes his main nickname for Ford, just like it used to be for Stan all those years ago. On top of it all, Ford's own social ineptitude doesn't phase Bill, another thing Ford is self-conscious about; Bill's own social ineptitude as he's not human probably makes Ford feel comfortable, knowing that's not expected from him.

Through Bill, not only does Ford find someone who validates his self-worth through intelligence and even confirms to him that his weirdness is part and parcel of making him special, he also finds someone who he regularly (generally) is in contact with, who enjoys talking to him and even banters with him familiarly. Hell, Bill even deliberately goes out of his way (literally possessing a whole wack ton of rats, then dream karaoke) to celebrate his birthday with him; how long do you think Ford has simply skipped his birthday since he had no one to really celebrate it with? The loneliness, beneath his arrogance and belief in exceptionalism, is being fulfilled; for the first time since Ford was a teenager, he's fully accepted by someone, social awkwardness, six fingers, exceptionalism and all. 

Image id: One of the lost pages from Journal 3 in TBOB, the 'one thing led to another' page, with Bill and Ford singing karaoke and drinking together, both clearly enjoying themselves; Bill has an arm slung around Ford's shoulders.

So it's really no surprise at all that Ford fell for this, hook line and sinker. Hell, if I was in Ford's shoes I would fall for it just as hard. And I've seen a few posts floating around talking about how Bill is bad at manipulating, and no, he's not. He was able to pinpoint exactly what Ford wanted and needed, and provided that, was charismatic enough to provide that. Again, manipulation isn't about logic. It really isn't; it's about the emotional core in people, what people lack and what you can give them to slowly reel them in to sing your dance and song. And people will ignore vast swaths of red flags when you're finally being accepted, when you're finally getting your emotional needs met at least in some way or form. It's better than not having them met at all, such as previously. So Ford worshipping Bill is really not a surprise, especially as Bill deliberately stoked it.

All of this is part of why you see Alex Hirsch call Ford's belief in his exceptionalism his greatest flaw; because it allowed him to be very easily manipulated by Bill, and by its nature kept Ford isolated from others, evident by his arrogance in assuming he knows best and refusing to see other people who aren't as 'intelligent/weird' as him as worth getting to know, listen too and even reach out to ask help from, it's him believing he has to be the lone hero as someone whose 'special'. It's something that blinds him to the danger of his work around the weirdness of gravity falls because he’s desperate to seek a place where he and his weirdness belong, and it's something that plays out in each and every relationship he has because it's something he clings to so deeply. It's what cost him his relationship with Stan, who previously accepted him completely, and, as he's disinclined to form new relationships and as Bill actively strokes his paranoia (Trust No One…), ultimately further increases the hold Bill has over him. It's only Fiddleford’s presence as he works with Ford that allows him some form of outside reference and reprieve from solely Bill’s influence, something that Bill resents deeply and is clearly jealous and angry about, even if Fiddleford is helping create the portal. And it's ultimately Fiddleford, once he was aware enough of what was happening, calls Ford out on it, seriously jeopardizing Bill's influence over Ford; but Ford is too invested in the portal, in chasing his own ambition and caught up in Bill’s manipulation to take him seriously, until the incident with the trial, and Ford beginning to hear other voices then Bill.

Ford’s Exceptionalism and Wider Relationships

Now back to how it plays out in all Ford's relationships; we've already gone over it with Bill's influence, because it made him extremely easy to manipulate, and with his disregard of Stan in favor of validation of his exceptionalism. But Ford, as pointed out by Alex Hirsch, also exerts the ideology's seductive rhetoric to both Fiddleford and Dipper (who look up to Ford) in a similar way that Bill does with him (although there is a difference of it being used intentionally and maliciously, compared to subconsciously and earnestly, even if it is problematic). Ford, with his black-and-white view of exceptionalism, sees both Fiddleford and Dipper as people who are like him; 'exceptional', and so he treats them as such, and uses this rhetoric to coerce them into helping him.

For Fiddleford, the lure is how he can change the world, how he can be finally acknowledged if he helps Ford with the portal. And it works well; he willingly chooses to leave his own work and his wife and young son, to work with Ford. Much like Ford, Fiddleford himself is also a social outcast and regularly presumed less smart than he is, and he’s got a chip on his shoulder to prove himself, to gain acknowledgement and recognition from the world at large. Although Fiddleford has a family which presumes he’s not entirely lonely like Ford is, he also clearly has deep feelings for Ford, some which are hinted to be more than just ‘friendly’ feelings; it is likely the combination of the lure of validation and spending time with Ford, a kindred spirit that accepts him and an old friend/crush, that causes him to agree (afterall, it was Ford who made Fiddleford feel accepted and choose to stay at Backupsmore). And Fiddleford’s not even considered a partner, but rather an assistant to Ford due to Ford's arrogance, and he still drops everything to go! It’s more about their relationship and connection rather than validation, but that doesn’t stop Ford from espousing exceptionalism. And this is a distinguishing difference, because although Fiddleford would like recognition, he’s not there solely because of it; he’s not a believer in exceptionalism nor arrogant about his skills, and so, unlike Ford who is blinded by his obsession, he’s much more aware of the dangers of the weirdness of Gravity Falls. Thus, he's actively calculating the risks involved, and when he realizes there could be potentially devastating consequences of the portal, he attempts to talk Ford out of it; this fails due to Ford’s own denial and obsession over the portal. In the end, it all goes terribly sideways, and Fiddleford ends up losing everything he had; his wife, his son, his friend, his memories and himself to the trauma he had experienced at the invitation of his friend with the lure of validation and company, due to the memory gun he had created himself. 

As for Dipper, much like Ford, he also has issues with self-worth (many of the episodes deal with Dipper finding self-worth; ie, the manotaur episode), has a physical oddity (his birthmark) and by far the trait he relies on most for worth is his intelligence (for example, in one episode he rubs it into Mabel's face over and over again in beating her in games). He's also extremely desperate to be recognized by authority figures as someone intelligent, case in point when he summons the dead after being made fun of by the government agents to try and show them that the information he's gathered is important after Stan dismisses his knowledge. This desperation to be seen as someone of worth from Dipper, much like Ford, extends to the need to be a hero, something he even says at the end of the zombie episode; yet, due to Mabel, unlike Ford he's not a lone hero, and Mabel also half the time acts as the hero.

Image id: Zombies crawling out of a crack after Dipper summons them; Dipper and the two agents look on in horror.

It all culminates in Dipper hero-worshipping Ford when he returns; really, no different than Ford worshipping Bill. And Ford clearly finds it extremely flattering; Dipper's attention and amazement of him feeds his exceptionalism. Exactly how Ford responded to Bill, Dipper is willing to do anything for Ford, excited too, in an attempt to impress Ford and be validated and accepted. And for Ford, that's an extremely heady feeling, especially as someone who has been constantly alone the last 30 years, especially when he had one previously confirm his exceptionalism all those years ago and stopped, and now someone is once again affirming that idea. And Ford doesn't have to be alone again, because he's found a kindred spirit in Dipper as his assistant, someone ‘just’ like him, someone who is exceptional. Because he sees himself in Dipper, he begins to espouse exceptionalism unconsciously, by praising Dipper's own intellect and adventurous spirit, assuaging his feeling of self-worth, while also telling him he's more important or better than others because of it. 

And it's seductive to Dipper, because he wants to hear those affirmations of his self-worth, especially as he hero-worships him, but Dipper isn't sold on it, because it means leaving Mabel behind, it means believing that he's worth more than Mabel (and also, Stan, and all his friends he’s made in Gravity Falls). It's ultimately because of his relationship with Mabel that he rejects the ideology; he's not isolated the way Ford was with Bill, and he's not willing to break that relationship for that acknowledgement, because his relationships matter more to him.

Bill and Exceptionalism

Now of course, that's only on the Pines; what about Bill? 

While it's obvious that Bill uses exceptionalism as a main manipulative tactic, it's not just an ideology he sprouts emptily; it's also an ideology he believes in, just like Ford, although it's less based on intellectual exceptionalism, and more on power and 'weirdness'. 

This most distinctly can be seen in Bill's denial about what happened to his home dimension; Bill's belief in his exceptionalism occurs as a pain avoidance tactic from killing his whole dimension. Bill was clearly a social outcast within his dimension due to being able to see 3d; he's not accepted, and not trusted, to the point that there is medical intervention to make him blind. That's a deeply traumatic experience that completely erases one sense of self-worth, where one’s sanity is called into question by your parents on something that is not harmful, that's beautiful and you just want to share with them. It's a deep and clear rejection of who Bill is, and his ability. As a result, out of a desperate bid to be understood and accepted, he ends up trying to show them the stars. And it ends up killing everyone. 

Image id: Page of TBOB, on 'The Early Years' which notes that Bill was an oddity for seeing 3d, something that was illegal to speak about. Bill frames it as something that made him 'special' and better than all the others.

Traumatized, and originally rejected by the dimension, he instead weaves an excuse of exceptionalism; that it doesn't matter what he did to them because he's exceptional and he's worth more than all of them because he can see 3d, because he's powerful, so he shouldn't/'doesn't' feel any remorse about it. With such a traumatic result of trying to be accepted by people, he rejects the idea of trying to be accepted for who he really is; instead adopting a facade of a monster that he believes he is (and eventually, becomes).

Even if he clings to the delusion of exceptionalism, and shuns attempts to find true acceptance, he still wants it; and that's where his henchmaniacs fit in, as they're all, as Bill's noted when trying desperately to get Ford to join him, weird; each has something 'wrong' with them, which is why Bill accepted them as his lackeys (although it's not like we know the context around these). It's a surface-level acceptance however, one more predicated on fear than emotional acceptance. He's taken his 'weirdness', much like many do who believe in exceptionalism,as ‘part of what makes him exceptional'.

In the same way that Ford wants to show the world that he's smart and intelligent by building the portal, Bill does so by wreaking havoc and taking over existences as a way to show the world that he's powerful, that he's someone to be reckoned with, that he's not someone to be ignored because he's someone who's worth more than others. If you can't be loved and accepted, then being hated and feared is better than being ignored; acknowledgement at least approaches acceptance, it's validation of some sort of worth. It also functions as deliberate self-sabotage of his morals, by proving that he is the monster that killed his entire dimension; if that's what he is, then that's who he's going to be, because if he wasn’t, then he has to come face to face with his remorse over what he did to his dimension and his whole house of cards around his exceptionalism and not caring collapses. So instead he keeps feeding the delusions the denial, and lies and lies and lies and keeps lying to ignore all of it, to wrap himself in this shroud of exceptionalism and brutality as a way to function. And it somewhat works, because he's mostly deluded himself about it all, even if subconsciously he knows. 

And of course, this display of Bill's exceptionalism is what brings Bill to earth, to Gravity Falls, and to manipulating humans. In meddling with earth and humanity, beyond Bill's goal of taking over earth and fleeing his own unravelling dimension, he also enjoys reaping the benefits of being worshiped by humans, who find him awe-inspiring. Their amazement of who he is, and Bill's own posturing and manipulation of people leads to Bill literally forming cults (ie ciphertology) or having apprentices that worship/find him (to varying degree) inspiring; all reinforcing his feelings of exceptionalism. 

Of course, Ford numbers among these people; he praises Bill and worships him, as he's played like a fiddle by Bill, because his self-worth and belief in exceptionalism is fucked up in a way that perfectly resonates with Bill’s. Because it's the exact same types of issues around self-worth, around being an outcast, being weird and wrong physically, and yet at the same time gifted. And Ford clearly is incredibly lonely and yearning for acceptance, but so is Bill; since the beginning he's been trying to find someone who would accept him, even if he's given up on it. And for his song and dance to entice Ford in, he pretends he's not crushed dimensions for fun, that he's not a 'monster'; a version of him he buried after he had tried to show his parents the stars, one that he occasionally resurrects and puppets around for manipulation (all lies are better when they have a grain of truth). And this version of him is worshipped, but above all is accepted, is loved by Ford. The softer parts of Bill, even if they are still weird as fuck, the parts that were never far beneath the surface for all his deluding, become loved by Ford. Much as Ford becomes hooked on Bill’s praise, Bill also becomes hooked on Ford's genuine love and care. It becomes personal, unlike any previous ‘inspirations’ and Bill over time gets to the point that he feels accepted, safe enough with Ford to share about his dimension much more close to the truth then he did with any of his henchmaniacs. He becomes vulnerable with Ford, in response to Ford’s own vulnerability with him. He’s finding acceptance for the first time in his life around the softer parts of himself, not just the feared acknowledgement that comes from his dimensions conquering; much like Ford is finally finding companionship and acceptance with Bill, not just only intellectual validation. Bill's also for once, not just self-serving; he cares, and goes out of his way to take time with Ford, even celebrating Ford's birthday (in the unique way he does things), both with the rats and the karaoke.

Image id: One of the lost Journal 3 pages in TBOB. Ford recounts Bill talking about the destruction of his dimension, and calls himself by implication a monster.

They're both fulfilling each other's emotional needs, needs which both of them have struggled with most, if not all of their lives (although their relationship is certainly not healthy, considering it's codependent as fuck, riddled with exceptionalism and oodles of power imbalance issues). And suddenly, against Bill's plans, Ford's no longer just a disposable pawn, but someone Bill wants as part of his team, someone by his side, closer than his henchmaniacs are. He's unwittingly fallen for Ford, and so when everything goes sideways in his plan, and Ford swears it off, suddenly cutting off their relationship and that acceptance Bill had finally felt, he spirals into grief and anger from the rejection. As a result, he becomes extremely abusive to Ford in desperate attempts to continue their relationship, and ultimately he becomes obsessive over Ford joining him again as Ford continues to refuse, as evidenced by both Weirdmageddon and the Book of Bill.

Stanley Pines, and the Refuting of Exceptionalism 

Exceptionalism, being a negative driving factor behind many core character dynamics, is ultimately refuted by the show. This occurs multiple times over the show, such as with Mabel in the Pioneer Day episode, especially compared to Pacifica, but mostly through Stan's characterization. Stan is someone who has been since the beginning characterized (if lovingly so) as someone who is a failure by societal standards; he’s an older man running a run-down tacky tourist shop to swindle gullible tourists out of their money, has multiple divorces, has an ongoing feud with a literal 12 year old, clearly has had multiple mishaps with the law (some ongoing), is generally pretty self-serving and is extremely lonely and really had no close relationships until Mabel and Dipper showed up. He's not exceptional; he's not even what we would consider 'decent' enough to have a 'typical, hard working job’. In short, he’s a failure, a stark difference to the idea of 'exceptionalism' that characterizes Ford. If he's gifted in any area, it would be charisma (debatedly), not anything else.

But it's still Stan who rebuilds the portal from literally only one journal (not all three!) and gets it to work. It even seems like he only needs some codes from the other two journals when he does get them, suggesting that he was able to extrapolate from what was left and the first journal’s blueprints to fix it entirely, something that is extremely difficult and technically complicated (Ford, Bill and Fiddleford all worked on it together!). Stan's able to do it, even if it's been shown he's not 'naturally' gifted in that area. And it's something he does as a result of his deep care for Ford; because even after their fights, he cares about Ford and wants to right his wrongs, believes he should, because of his whole life of being defined as a failure and even worse than that, screwing up his ‘exceptional’ brother’s life. And he’ll do it even if that means learning how to build an interdimensional portal, even if it takes up thirty years of his life doing so, and he doesn't waver. Much of this is connected to his own complexes around being deemed a failure compared to Ford, having failed to succeed in his life, and how he feels that he needs to atone for screwing up Ford’s life, now for the second time; but beneath it all, he also cares. Much like Ford, he's extremely lonely, but he's not blinded by Ford's arrogance, and as a result he wants to make sure Ford's safe, because that's what he used to do, they’re twins, they grew up together, they once they had fully accepted and cared for each other, and dammit that still means something, and Stan hasn't found that depth of emotional connection since. So if possible, he wants to rekindle that closeness they had, but first, he needs to bring Ford back. 

And in the end, it's not Ford's own special gun he built using his intelligence that 'kills' Bill. It's Stan, someone who Ford had long ago broke it off with in search of validation of his exceptionalism, someone who both Ford and Bill labelled as 'not-exceptional', who defeats Bill. It's exceptionalism's devaluation of people who are 'not-exceptional' that causes Bill to underestimate the Pines beyond Ford, and it's only when Ford put aside his exceptionalism and his refusal to accept and trust 'non-exceptional' people, that is, trust Stan once more, that causes Bill to end up defeated by Stan.

In the end, it's not about who's 'smarter'; it's a reminder that everyone has different skills and are better at different things, but that doesn't diminish one's worth or value, and that just because someone isn't naturally 'gifted' in an area doesn't mean they can't learn or use different ways to get around obstacles. Ultimately, it comes down to that no one is worth more or less than other people; exceptionalism is a lie. It’s a lie and an excuse, and it's certainly not a healthy way to assuage one's poor self-worth. What does matter is creating positive healthy connections with other people, and caring about them. This creates a community where you can be yourself and be emotionally fulfilled through these connections; and when opposition does arise, you become able to fight it together, and fight so much stronger than if you are alone.

And by the end of the show, you see that. Ford begins to let go of the ideal of exceptionalism and its black-and-white categorization; finally recognizes his own faults around prioritizing validation of his intelligence and exceptionalism over his relationships, and finally, after all the years, chooses to create and rekindle positive relationships with people, trust people, and make amends. And in the end, he goes sailing with Stan, prioritizing their relationship, finally fulfilling their childhood promise.

Image id: One of the pages written by Ford into TBOB. Ford refutes Bill's idea of happiness, and says he has finally found his own happiness, and it looks like the photo taped in, of Stan, Ford, Dipper, Mabel, Soos and Wendy, all smiling together.

TLDR: Exceptionalism, an ideology of categorizing people into being special and worth more vs plebian and worth less, is a trauma response and subconscious ideology that characterizes Ford and Bill’s lives, deeply impacting all their relationships as it is used to coerce people into doing what they want, makes Ford easily manipulated, and breaks relationships through their arrogance. It is ultimately denounced through the way Dipper chooses to reject Ford’s offer and his rhetoric of being exceptional, and through the way it's not Ford’s intelligence, but rather Stan, who has been labeled as 'not-exceptional' and a failure at life, that defeats Bill through trickery. It's a reminder that everyone has worth, and no one is worth more than other people, even if one may be gifted in certain areas; the ideology of exceptionalism is fragile and a lie. In the end, creating a caring, loving community around oneself is where strength truly lies, as is seen with the deep care and love the characters have for each other, and the repairing of Ford and Stans relationship.

Thanks to the lovely @eshtaresht who deigned to beta read this monster of a post for me

If you enjoyed this meta, (first of all if you read all this you're a champ!) I've also done another gf meta post! (It's shorter I swear)

[megistusdiary]

Vampire arlecchino vampire arlecchino vampire arlecchino vampire arlecchino vampire arlecchino vampire arlecchino

(I think I want vampire arlecchino lmao)

can I get a vampire arlecchino x fem!reader whose a vampire hunter? it's an idea that's been stuck in my head for a while, and I think it's really hot

(Ty in advance, btw, i love you and your work, ty for feeing arlecchino fans such as myself)

it took me a while, but i have come to deliver 😁🙏 school and work have been draining me, but i try to post when i have the opportunity!!

also, i am glad you have been enjoying the arlecchino content as much as i love writing it ♡ i have been saving for her when i have time. let's hope she comes home early...

based vampire arlecchino idea 😻🫶 this one is a bit long, so enjoy, please ‼️ call me mr. white the way i cooked this up in one sitting instead of studying

vampire arlecchino x fem!hunter reader

dom!vampire arlecchino x sub!hunter reader (fem anatomy/pronouns)

warnings: smut (mdni), wlw content, enemies to lovers?, vampires, biting, blood, cunnilingus, arle makes a deal to basically kidnap you (but you are cool with it), guns and knives.

your hand twitches as it hovers over your gun, loaded with a set of silver bullets, extra in your pockets (just in case).

each step you take is cautious, calculated on these creaky floorboards. despite being older than dirt and darker than night itself, this rather extravagant mansion was well taken care of.

even the top shelves of cabinets were dust-free. despite how the owner wanted it to appear abandoned at this moment, it was obvious that was nothing more than a facade. a trap, made to pull foolish, naive "investigators" in.

luckily, you were no fool, nor were you an unsuspecting traveler. you were a trained hunter from a long line of all sorts of hunters for things that go bump in the night.

you just happened to take quite the interest in vampires from a young age. your family was more than delighted, seeing as you picked up their long-honed skills with weapons, incantations, and tricks.

usually, you would go after smaller vampire covens, just a handful living together. despite their speed and strength, your skill with your gun was remarkable. you never missed a shot, and you always brought back-up.

lately, you had been growing more bold, more confident in your skills. (so confident you would come to regret that soon enough in these very halls...)

you crept around the corner, nearly tripping over a bump in the rug. it seemed strategically placed, something you did not miss, as you placed a hand on the wall to steady yourself.

in the distance, you could see warm light in the hallway, torches on the sides lit up. you approached cautiously, still ready to hold your gun at a moment's notice.

you felt something brush you, and you nearly screamed, whipping your gun out and turning your head only to see nothing at all.

your body froze, a cold sweat building up as your head spun in every direction, looking for any shadows, ears straining to listen for any noises.

once you realized nothing was going to jump out at you, your gun was placed back on your waist, and you kept moving.

the hallway was warmer here, due to the flames, each casting a welcoming glow onto the walls and floors. at the end of the hallway was a beautiful ballroom.

the entire room was lit up, chandeliers on the ceiling, glittering as if coated in diamonds. tables were placed meticulously around the room, but only one was set.

you approached it cautiously, seeing an envelope on the table. your fear skyrocketed when you saw this envelope was addressed to you.

with a shaky hand, you picked it up, turning it over to see a red seal keeping it shut. after popping it open, you pulled the letter out.

it was written it what could only be described as elegant penmanship. each letter looked as if it had flown directly out of the pen itself, curved perfectly. the letter merely stated the obvious.

you were an unwelcome guest in her home, though it was no use to attempt to escape now. you were the mouse, and this vampire was the cat.

the letter was signed from 'the knave,' smelling subtly of perfume and quick to fall from your hands and onto the floor. you began to tremble, eyes darting all around the room to find your now captor.

you moved to grab your gun this time, holding it out as you slowly moved across the ballroom, startled when music began to play.

"you can't leave quite yet, i'm afraid, little mouse." a low voice called out. her tone was rather neutral, giving nothing away as you turned to the direction of the sound.

"show yourself, demon!" you called out, being met with dry laughter.

"i'm not so sure you could handle seeing me just yet." the voice hums from another direction.

"oh, really? why's that?" you knew you were pushing your luck. but what else was there to do now? you were trapped inside this vampire's home, and even if you managed to run, she would surely hear every clumsy footstep and every pant from your lips.

the vampire merely laughed again, sounding almost bored. "well, if you're so curious, you'll have to owe me a dance. it's such a shame i don't get to use this room very often."

heels clicked on the floor, and your head whipped to face the vampire.

your face felt hot when you saw her for the first time.

she was gorgeous...in a dangerous way. she was tall, dressed neatly in a crisply pressed suit. the front was open, showing off the shape of her breasts towards the center of her chest. she was draped in expensive but classy jewelry; all diamonds, of course. ah, and she was toned beneath that suit, quite evident each time she moved.

"oh? not what you were expecting?" she tilts her head. her voice carries a lilt of amusement, despite her face not matching that.

your arm shook as you held your gun, taking a small step back.

"why don't you put that gun down? give your arm a rest. you're not going to shoot me." she called out, moving closer.

"what makes you so sure?" you challenge her, but when you go to pull the trigger- "no-"

"what's the matter? go on, pull out your backup dagger, sweetheart. i'll count to five. i'm nothing if not a gracious host."

"no...no no no no!" you mumble, fiddling with your gun helplessly to the sound of her countdown before you threw it to the side, the metal clattering noisily on the floor.

"that temper..." she tutted, and in the blink of an eye she stood behind you. before you could move, she grabbed your hands, positioning them around her neck. her hands were pure black, complete with sharp nails, indicating they were not gloves at all.

she peered down at you, x-shaped pupils sending a chill through your spine. she pulled you to dance with her, enjoying every bead of sweat building up on your forehead, every little whimper with each dangerously fast step, the darting of your eyes across the room.

her lips finally quirked up into a ghost of a smile. "i do hope, for your sake, you didn't think me as easy as those amateur vampires you hunt. you remember, don't you?"

"how did you know about them-"

"apart from the fact that word spreads fast through our kind," she leans down, lips barely brushing the shell of your ear. "i know everything there is to know about you."

her whispers are cold against your ear, sending shivers through your body.

"you may think yourself a hunter, but i regret to inform you that you've become my prey this time." she spins you around elegantly, catching you with ease on just one arm.

"that's not possible-" you begin to protest, but sharp nails against your throat shut you up.

"this moment is much nicer without your incessant complaints." she warns, slowly moving her nails away.

the minute the song finishes, she lets go, watching you stumble backwards into one of the tables. "and so it seems, we've come to an end. what a shame. i was hoping you'd have more fight in you." she taps her chin.

you struggle to catch your breath, fear finally settling in. you reach down, pulling your last-resort silver dagger from your boot, slashing it towards her.

you manage to catch her by surprise, nicking her cheek and slicing a small cut, watching her deep red blood slowly drip down her pale skin.

she reaches a hand up to catch the blood, looking over at you. in a matter of seconds, you find yourself on the floor, the vampire on your chest as she holds your wrist down with ease.

she forces the knife out of your hand, enjoying your helpless noises of frustration. "you're a pathetic excuse for a hunter." is all she says. "it's a pity you're so pretty." she sighs.

despite everything, you can't manage to look in her eyes after this. she quickly picks up on that, tossing the knife aside carelessly. "do my words unsettle you, little mouse?" she smirks ever so slightly, leaning down.

the cut on her cheek has already healed, and she knows you're looking at it with confusion. "silver doesn't do anything to creatures like me, i'm afraid." she tuts. "i'm not so sure i could bear to part with you as it is right now. i don't think i could allow you to pass on without having a little taste."

you immediately struggle against her. "you- you bastard! get the hell off of me!" but it's too late. she can hear each beat of your heart, and she knows the difference between trepidation and... excitement.

she leans down, inhaling your scent from your neck, her sharp fangs running across your throat. "be a good girl and hold still for me." she mumbles against your skin.

she places a soft kiss on your skin, hearing you let out a breathy whine, causing her to give you one of her rare grins against your throat.

and then, her fangs sink in deep, indulging in your pained yelps and squirming. "fuck-" you cry out, feeling her hand grip both of yours tighter, holding your wrists down firmly.

the hand tilting your head caresses your jaw almost sweetly while she drinks from you until you grow woozy. "no more- please- can't-" you mumble, and much to your shock, she pulls away.

her lips are coated in your blood, flushed red as she shows off her blood-covered fangs. "it seems i was right, you do taste rather divine." she seems to ponder something briefly, lost in her own world as she looks off to the side. "hm...i'll tell you what. are you still with me, little mouse?" she lightly taps your cheek, watching you blink up at her.

"what...?" you ask tiredly.

"let's make a deal, just between us." she proposes. "i don't want to have to kill you, so i'll make this as simple for you as i can manage." she caresses your cheek, nails lightly scratching your sensitive skin. "you will live, but you will never leave here. not until i'm fully satisfied with you." she hums, smoothing a hand down your face.

"you... want to kidnap me?" you ask her, brows furrowed. "i don't understand-"

"i want you all to myself." she suddenly says, seeming rather serious. "let me have you... give me all of yourself, and i will graciously allow you to live under my care here."

you freeze up, staring up at her, unsure of what to say. "i... and if i refuse?"

"would you prefer decapitation or-"

"okay, i understand!" you cut her off immediately, eyes wide with fear. "there... you are not giving me any other choice... so...i accept."

she snorts lightly. "don't act so innocent. i can practically smell you leaking for me." and those are the words that set your face ablaze.

"excuse me?" you gawk. "that- that's absurd-"

"i think the last thing you want to do right now is argue with me, little mouse. i can hear your heart. i've already memorized patterns of fear...of anger..." she leans down, breathing against your cheek, "of lust." she whispers softly.

"there is no point in lying to me, so why don't you be a good girl for me, and," she stands up, yanking you with her, "follow me."

she pulls you like a little puppy through the hallways, off to what appears to be her chambers. she lets go of your sore wrists only to toss you on her bed. the sheets are red and silky beneath you.

instead of joining you on the bed, she sits in an armchair near the foot of the luxurious bed, one leg crossed over the other. "undress for me. go on." she hums, seeming amused.

you sit frozen for a moment until she snaps her fingers, and you slowly pull your clothes off. once you get to your undergarments, you shyly sit before her.

"those too." she orders, eagerly watching you slip them off until you sit bare on the bed in front of her. "good girl. crawl to me, come here." she crooks a finger, watching you crawl to her, looking rather embarrassed as you kneel on the bed.

she stands up, approaching you and slowly kneeling down on the floor. her face is level with your thighs, and she pushes you onto your back, unceremoniously yanking you closer to her. clawed fingers dig into your thighs as she pulls them over her shoulders.

"you should know something about me before we begin." she mumbles against your thigh. "you'll refer to me as arlecchino, is that understood?"

"yes-" your voice is shaky and breathy, and she nods. the first kiss she presses on your thigh is dangerously close to your pussy, and it has your hips jumping up to chase her lips.

once she moves to kiss your clit, she smirks slightly at the breathy sigh of her name escaping your lips. she decided it sounded just perfect coming from you. so sweet despite it coming from someone trained to kill her kind.

lucky for her, it didn't seem you were prepared for her variant at all. what a shame. now you'd never finish your training.

not that you seem to care with the way her lips are wrapping around your clit. you think you'd be much happier underneath her than holding a knife to her throat anyways.

"a-arlecchino, more...please-" you beg her.

being the generous host she is, she gives you exactly what you asked for, lapping over your clit.

she slides her tongue further down, teasing your entrance with the tip, slipping in slightly before pulling away.

"please!" your voice grows whiny, and she leans up to look at your face. the way you look so pathetic is everything to her. your eyes meet hers, glassy with unshed tears. "need more, please?" you ask her so kindly...

she kneels back down, nipping at your thigh almost playfully before she dives back in. the way her tongue moves so sinfully against your cunt has your back arching.

your nipples are painfully hard, perking up and begging for attention from her as you pant. her nails dig into your thighs, but you don't even register the pain.

every so often, her tongue darts over to your thigh, licking up the blood beading from the shallow punctures she created in your skin. she lets out soft, deep groans into you, making your body tremble as your own hips move against her mouth.

"yes, yes, fuck- close, i'm so close-" you begin to ramble.

"beg for it. beg for me to allow you to cum." she simply tells you. despite her tone being rather sultry, it is a warning in itself.

"please! let me- let me cum, please, please, arlecchino-" you could've never imagined begging a vampire to allow your body to do what it wants. you felt so embarrassed, but too far gone to really care.

"go on." she urges, carrying you through your orgasm. she indulges in your little 'thank you's afterwards, kissing your clit softly, enjoying your overstimulated twitching.

she leans up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand before moving to sit in her armchair. she spreads her thighs, starting to unbuckle her belt, beckoning you over. "come here, come get your reward."

[hotteoki]

getting into an argument with skz (hyung line)

warnings: slamming doors (does that count as violence?), lots of swearing, regular angst, fluff-ish making up at the end

notes: i was feeling like some angst except i haven't written it in a long time so uh it's a bit shit el oh el + idk if i want to write maknae line cause i wouldn't even know how to write for felix LIKE THAT MAN IS AN ANGEL

©️ strayedstars | do not repost

chan (방찬)

chan was stressed, it was obvious to anyone. he didn't get angry often, nor does he get upset with people easily, but the deadlines and pressure had been getting to him lately. you did everything you could to help him, from making his favourite food every day to taking him out for dinner, and he made sure to let you know how grateful he was for those.

today, however, when chan stepped through the door, you hadn't noticed how he seemed more closed off when you asked how his day was, or how he didn't give you any form of greeting. it was when you stood up from your seated position on the couch, did you feel the tension radiating off of him. you approached him cautiously, fearing that if you said the wrong things, it would aggravate him even more.

worried, you placed a gentle hand on his arm, "chan, is everything okay-" he pushed your hand off immediately, replying with a short 'i'm fine.' "are you sure? you know you can always talk to-" he inhaled deeply, "oh my fucking- yes i'm sure. i clearly don't want to fucking talk to you, so why are you still pressing me? it's like you just don't fucking listen to me. you’re so damn clingy sometimes." there was a deathly silence. you could tell he didn't mean for his words to come out so harshly, but it hurt all the same.

chan, seemingly in disbelief by his own words as much as you, opened his mouth to apologise, but closed it. you weren’t even sure what hurt you more; the fact that he yelled at you, or that he couldn’t even be bothered to apologise. "what the fuck," you whispered out. still processing his words, you wordlessly made your way to the bedroom and closed the door, hurt and slightly embarrassed. you heard his callings of your name, but you ignored them, just wanting to give him, and yourself, some space. never would you have thought your own boyfriend would be the one to make you cry.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

you stirred awake. mind still fuzzy, you tried to remember what happened before you went to sleep. right. chan. you sat up, now slightly more awake. looking down, you were confused at the fact that you were holding your wolf chan plushie you lost a while back, and you definitely would not have had time to charge your phone, so what- oh.

squinting your eyes, you finally acknowledged chan sitting by the edge of the bed, his slouched back facing you. had you forgotten to lock the door? contemplating whether you should go up to him or not, you knew the two of you had to talk about it sooner or later. switching on the bedside light and crawling over until you were side to side with him, you sat with your legs crossed, your warm hands wrapped around your ankles.

you turned your head to look at him, stifling your laughter. chan had fallen asleep while sitting down, presumably thinking about the situation. shaking him awake, he blinked his eyes slowly, adjusting to the dim light from behind the two of you. you weren't sure if it was because of the witching hour, or because you simply weren't mad at him at all, but you found yourself leaning your head against his shoulder.

"i'm so sorry, angel," chan breathed out, voice shaky. "i know," you responded simply. "no, you don't get it," he stood, only to kneel down on the cold bedroom floor in front of you. he reached for your hands, rubbing circles soothingly over the back of your hand, "i'm so, so, sorry. i was in a bad mood, and i took it out on you, and you didn't deserve a second of it. i'm so incredibly sorry."

chan's head dipped down, and you could faintly see his teardrops staining his joggers. "chan," you called his name gently. his bloodshot eyes looked up to meet yours. you freed one of your hands from his grasp to place on his wet cheeks, smiling at how he instinctively leaned into your touch, "it's okay. i forgive you." he but only sobbed more, "i don't deserve you."

you knew that right now, no matter what you say, he would never forgive himself, so you opted to guide him back on his feet, leading him under the warm duvets, "let's just sleep for now, okay? we'll talk more tomorrow."

minho (민호)

minho was trying really hard to be patient with you. he really was, but you kept forgetting which brand of treats were soonie's favourite, or which pet dish is doongie's, or where to place dori's favourite toys, and it was getting on his nerves. he knew you weren't doing this on purpose, you had a lot on your mind, but, really, was it that hard to remember a few extra things?

it was the fourth time in the past week that you've asked him if the cats have had their dinner yet. minho had already had a rough day at work, with the others being uncoordinated and him losing his phone, and your 'hey min, they've had dinner already, right?' made him snap.

he felt a hot wave of anger wash over him, without meaning to, he began spatting words out, "yes, they've had their dinner. we have a schedule for their meals, what part of a schedule do you not understand? if you could just use your head for once, maybe you'll fucking remember something!" in the heat of the moment, you retorted, crossing your arms, "i could say the same to you! you never put your shit together, your clothes are always on the floor, i always have to clean up for you! maybe for once, you should be the one using your head!"

minho groaned, running a hand through his messy hair, "give me a fucking break, will you? you're so exasperating." swallowing thickly, you managed out, "fine, you want a fucking break? have a fucking break." making your way to your bedroom, him following along, refusing to let you walk away. you went straight into the room, slamming the door shut in his face and locking it. "fine! have it your way!" minho yelled, hitting his fist against the door once, storming out the house.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

it had been exactly 3 hours and 28 minutes since the fight. minho knew only because he kept checking his phone every 2 minutes to see if there were any notifications from you. he wasn't even sure why he was checking in the first place, he should be the one apologising, not you.

pocketing his phone, he stood up from his seat on the bench in a nearby park. slowly but surely, minho made his way back, only praying that you were still there. rummaging for his keys in front of the door, his heart all but stung more at the heart keychain with both of your names on it along with your anniversary.

creaking the door open, minho's heart dropped at the silence that greeted him. he called out your name once, then twice. practically running up to your shared bedroom, he rattled the doorknob. still locked. his heart pounded over fear that something had happened to you.

holding back to the urge to cry in frustration, minho began rapidly banging on the door, "please, please, please, open up the door!" the door finally cracked open, your tired, red-rimmed eyes blinking hazily up at him. "you're okay? you're okay!" minho pushed the door open all the way, examining your body all around before pulling you close to his chest, wrapping his arms around you securely.

"why didn't you answer?!" he nearly yelled. you, still bleary, rubbed your eyes, "i was sleeping. w-why are you here? i thought you left?" minho almost burst into tears right then and there, burying his face in your hair, "oh love, i'm never ever leaving you again. i'm so fucking sorry. i'm so, so, so, fucking sorry. i promise you, i'll do so much better."

changbin (창빈)

you knew the pain in changbin's right leg from an injury at the gym had been irritating him for the past few weeks, rendering him barely able to do anything without wanting to scream in frustration. you had been helping him a lot, from carrying his bags to picking up things when he had dropped them.

you made sure changbin was as comfortable as he could be, especially considering how moody he was acting the entire day. he had refused to leave the bed, which was extremely unlike him. normally, even if he was in a horrible mood, he would still get up and go about his day, claiming that if he didn't, he would be 'wasting the precious moments of life'.

you knocked on the bedroom door gingerly before opening it up a crack, not sure if he was awake or not. changbin was sat up straight, leaning against the headboard, scrolling on his phone. smiling, slightly relieved you hadn't disturbed his sleep, you opened the door full, "hey binnie, how are you feel-" "oh my- i'm okay, leave me alone. you don't have to keep babying me 24/7, it's so irritating." with a final look, his eyes turned back to his phone, ignoring your presence. to say you were shocked at his outburst was an understatement.

"are you serious?" you raised an eyebrow, "i have been taking care of you all week and this is how you thank me?" scoffing, he continued to avoid your glare, "i didn't ask you to." realising that he wasn’t going to apologise any time soon, you cast aside your surprise, honestly wanting to leave as quickly as you could. pursing your lips, you set the glass of water you had been holding on the bedside drawer along with a new charger that he had been complaining for, and left the room promptly. you could only hope changbin would reflect on his words.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

it was only minutes later when changbin called out your name once from the bedroom. you paused the movie playing on the television, contemplating whether you should ignore him or not. you were just about to pick up the remote again when you heard a loud thud.

without hesitating, you ran up to the bedroom, opening the door. changbin sat on the floor, clutching his leg, wincing at the pain. "what the hell did you do?" he remained silent. you immediately hoisted him back up to sit by the edge of the bed, kneeling in front to check for any bruises. sure enough, a purple spot was beginning to form on his shin.

sighing, you sat next to him on the bed, waiting for his answer. changbin sniffed, "i was trying to get up and go apologise to you, but i fell off the bed." giving him a small smile, you rubbed his thigh comfortingly. you weren't exactly sure how to respond.

sucking in a deep breathe, changbin began, "i'm really sorry for, you know, what i said earlier. i was being ungrateful, and i'm genuinely so sorry. i don't know what came over me, i just-" he was rushing his words. you rubbed his back, "no, i get it. i know you'd never hurt anyone intentionally." changbin couldn't meet your eyes. "but it still hurt me a lot."

he instantly locked his eyes with yours, "and i promise i will do anything in this world to make it up to you." he held out his pinky. you laughed, linking your pinky with his and pressing your thumbs together. "you can't break it now," you teased. "i won't." that was one of the most genuine things you'd ever heard changbin say.

hyunjin (현진)

hyunjin was experiencing an artist block. this didn't happen often, but when it did, it stuck for a long time; everything he drew looked wrong, it was either the shadows were in the wrong place, or the colour looked a little off, or the entire thing was just not what he pictured in general. letting out a groan, he rubbed his face was his free hand, feeling a headache coming along.

slamming his paintbrush down on the canvas stand, he glared at the blank sheet, like something would magically appear and would cure his annoyance. "hey hyunnie, i'm home!" your voice echoed around the house, and for once, it pissed him off. how are you so carefree and happy while he had to suffer? hyunjin got up from his stool and went to greet you, deciding that you at least deserved one.

"oh hey hyunnie, here's the drink that you've been wanting!" you fished something out of the bag. it was the wrong one. it wasn't the one hyunjin wanted. already irritated, his words came out without him even noticing, "how many times do i have to tell you it's not this one? if you really knew which drink is the one i want, you’d open your eyes and realise it’s not this one. either way, there's a reason why i didn't buy it, do you know how expensive it is?"

before you could interject, he continued on, not able to control what he was saying, "no, of course you don't. you just live in your own little carefree life, right? everything gets done for you, you never have to worry about anything, right?" word vomit. those last comments infuriated you, "carefree? carefree? hyunjin you have no idea how hard i had been working for the past few days! i have a job too, you know? news flash, you're not the only special one!"

hyunjin's heart ached. he never thought about what you might be going through. "yeah, no, if i'm such a bother because of the way i live my life, then maybe i should leave for a bit," you sighed, leaving the kitchen and to the bedroom. hyunjin couldn't even describe the guilt in his chest as he watched you leave.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

hyunjin sat outside the bedroom, waiting for you to come out, but also because he was scared. scared that you hated him now. scared that you won't forgive him. scared that you decided that maybe this relationship wasn't worth-

the sound of the door opening cut off his train of thoughts. you peeked out from behind the door, looking down cautiously at him, "what are you doing on the floor?" "i- i just- i don't know," hyunjin sighed, shielding his face away from you. he didn't want you to see him cry.

"hey, hey," you slid down next to him, legs tucked underneath. you reached to hold his wrist, pulling his hand away from his face. his glassy eyes met yours, "i mess everything up." with those words, he broke down. "oh, darling," you pulled him close and held him to your chest, "no you don't." "but i do," he stifled another sob, "i can't draw at all and i yelled at you and now you hate me-" "who said i hated you?" you ran your fingers through his hair.

his body relaxed, and hyunjin found himself leaning into your hold subconsciously. "couples have fights every now and then, and that's normal, hyunnie. and yes, you did yell at me, but so did i. as for your paintings, i'm sure you just need some motivation, and i'll help you find it." he pulled himself away slightly, tilting up to meet your forgiving smile. you'd never looked more beautiful in his eyes. "you. i want to paint you."

for @minvho @hyunverse @felixore @alyszaen and them only

[copperpipes]

I spec bio'ed Ultraman from Ultraman:Rising for fun (part 1)

the actual file I've written (and still writing) is now far over 2k words, so I desided to break it down to a series of posts so that it would be easier to digest, but if you don't want to wait for me to get them one by one out you can just go and read that long ass file yourself/lh

I understand that the film wasn't meant to be looked into on this level, at the end of the day this is just fan speculative biology, not an official theory, nor is it law, if you find a scientific inaccuracy i'll gladly hear you out in the comments to this post. but essentially what i'm doing here is having fun in my own silly little way :]

I've done some research into ultra physiology and some things didn't make sense to me, partially because there are more than one iteration all with their own worldbuilding, but I'll do my best to try and piece them all together without losing the source material too much.

[updated ultra Kenji design]

(The rest under cut) vvv

fact no.1

ultras are aliens and before they were ultras they were humans (or humanoids, or human-like, i'd like to believe so and i will do you one better).

not going to spoil much but something happened, and they were forced to build this thing called the ultra-spark to keep their civilization going, and the ultra-spark turned them all into giants, ultras.

fact no.2

the weapons ultraman uses (those buzzsaws thingies, shields, beams and glowing fists) are made out of something called spacium energy, positive running through the right side of ultraman’s body and negative running through the left, with the spacium beam appearing when he connects those energies by crossing his arms.

fact no.3

Ultraman himself is made of spacium energy and its presence is vital for him to exist. the ultra-spark is what gave and gives the ultra species spacium energy, ultras can also produce it on their own using other types of energy (solar energy on earth for example) but are not as efficient as the source material, hence why on earth ultraman’s energy runs out quicker then it would for example in space where energy is more abundant.

What is spacium wasn't completely clear to me, what I understood was that Ultraman has it (I think it was his skin that was made out of spacium?) and uses it to convert solar energy into spacium energy. 

I think spacium is meant to be an original element. and from what a mutual kindly told me (thank you @bazookaboi!!) its atomic number is 133. very very unstable in natural environments and extremely radioactive, so with all due respect allow me to ignore that entirely and let it remain a mystery for everyone’s sake.

fact no.4

ultras as a culture have a very strong sense of justice and moral code. (and I guess very emotionally intelligent? empathetic? but i'm not sure about this part ;-;)

Now let us finally start with the Ultra spec bio:

i'll start from the less obvious half for my own sake, you may skip this part if you're here just for Kenji’s human part (which i won't blame you for the designers cooked with this one) but just so you know there would be parts you won't be able to understand.

general ultra spec bio: physiology and body structure (my favorite part):

Do ultras breathe? was my first question and my answer would be, i don't think so.

down to the cellular level cells use oxygen in order to generate chemical energy that comes in the form of ATP, out of glucose and oxygen with ATP and CO2 as the outcome. (The difference between animal and plant cells is how they get their glucose.)

Now ultras don't seem to eat, and why would they? and breathing is not necessary since they already get the energy they need from spacium converting outside energy into spacium energy, on the outside there’s the spacium, and on the inside there’s the spacium energy just running around. it can be let out in certain areas of the body, but essentially this energy is all held together by the ultra’s skin (also probably why ultras have no openings on their body, so there wouldn't be a leakage of their life soup).

An ultra's internal structure is unknown, or at least I haven't been able to find anything on the matter, but in the movie both Kenji and his dad get injured, which means that there is something to be damaged.

i really like how the film handles injury actually, it shows explicitly the consequences of a serious injury and how it can sometimes be a life changing thing. It has a blatant effect long or short term and I need someone to analyze it more in depth. I know someone will eventually.

part 1

All the people who wanted this, i call thee.

next, part 2

@wtf-a-psychoanalysis @fantasma-espacial @spuuks-s @theviewer @whimsicalloser @m1lf-hunter-69

[billyshakesp]

One for his Lyctors

Something that will never cease to amaze me is how well TazMuir writes the Lyctors. So I'm making it your problem ;). CW: Spoilers for Gideon the Ninth and Harrow the Ninth.

Let's start off by stating the obvious: the Lyctors are old. Whenever I mention "the Lyctors" in this post, I'm referring to Jod's original crew of eight Lyctors, and, more specifically, Augustine the First, Mercymorn the First, Gideon the First, and Cytherea the First. Those four are the ones we have met at the time of writing this. And they are old. They are each ten thousand years old. However, ten thousand is a number which may not mean much to you since you (presumably) have not even reached the age of two hundred. To quickly contextualise how colossal a number ten thousand years is, just remember that written history only extends as far back as five thousand years. In not so many words, my bbygirls are not actually very baby, and are, in fact, fucking ancient.

We, as humans, do not have any living reference for a ten-thousand-year-old being, aside from an occasional tree or a sponge, or perhaps a condiment bottle so deep in the back of your fridge that it would warrant a paleontological dig, but I digress. So how does Muir write her Lyctors so effectively?

Vicious dehumanisation

One of the most striking things about the Lyctors is the dehumanisation they have suffered over the past myriad. The first thing I noticed while diving into this subject (and by diving into, I mean I took a long shower one day and pissed off my family) is that the Lyctors do not have last names, and their first names function more as titles. Furthermore, the Lyctors are referred to as the hands, fingers, and gestures of the Emperor. In short, the readers and the characters of the Locked Tomb, including the Lyctors themselves, don't see the Lyctors as individuals anymore. Rather, their sole purpose in life has been reduced to just a soldier of the Emperor. Muir really shows the effects of the Lyctors' age; they are ancient, to the point where they have lost their own humanity and the only reason for their existence that they still hold onto is to serve the Emperor.

2. Their morals

Are extremely fucked up. Like, I cannot emphasise enough how fucked up the Lyctors are as people. Their morals are twisted in a way which can only come about from ten thousand years, rotting in deep space. For example, G1deon probably makes like 56 attempts on Harrow's life, and he doesn't give a second thought about it. When the other Lyctors find him, they don't really condemn his actions the way a human would expect another human to condemn attempted murder. To the Lyctors, life and death are both abstract concepts: life has lost all its meaning to the Lyctors, and thus, they do not see value in others' lives, especially the life of another Lyctor. Especially the life of a "Half-Lyctor." Additionally, Cytherea's plot to destroy the Nine Houses, while technically noble in its intent, is just insanely messed up. Yet, it makes sense in the context of her being a Lyctor, and, furthermore, someone who has suffered abuse for the last ten thousand years. She wants to bring justice to Jod, and for her, a small genocide is completely insubstantial. These people do not value nor understand life the way a human would, because they are unbelievably old.

3. The ways they break

Every one of the original Lyctors we see has a point in which they break, and when they break, we see a glimpse of the humanity peeking through. I could do character analysis on all of the Lyctors, but that would take a really long time. In short, we, the reader, get to see shreds of the people the Lyctors once were, and yet this only demonstrates just how shattered they are under the inexorable weight of time (yes, I use inexorable excessively now that I've read these books). Muir feeds us these pieces of the Lyctors' former selves to show just how buried that former self is.

In short, Muir does such a good job writing her Lyctors. They really are some of the most beautifully tragic characters I've ever read. I'm really just compiling some of the elements which I think Muir used to achieve the effect of "this character is bloody ancient." Feel free to add anything you feel that I missed (and I'm sure I missed a lot of stuff), and thanks for reading!

[comfortless]

All That You Don’t Want

PAIRING: witch!fem!reader x apprentice!König

CONTENT: 18+! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. oneshot. obvious au— so not canon-compliant!, questionable morality, mutual pining, animal death (it’s still alive! but not!), minor character death, power imbalance? technically teacher/student, forced proximity, smut; unprotected piv, creampie, cunnilingus, cockwarming.

NOTES: title from this song! (i will never stop titling my König fics after The Twilight Sad lyrics sorry) i have never written smut in my life i apologize if this is rough!! cover: Robert Bresson, 1951 wc: 7.7k

You never wanted an apprentice, never had the need for some bright-eyed whelp shadowing you for their own benefit. The kingdom had enough competition as far as your craft went— green magic, potion brewing and enchantments, why in the world would you risk teaching someone your secrets only for them to outdo you at every turn? Those with the propensity for magic weren’t treated human, anyway. You saw the looks, uneasy and disgusted, unless of course they had need of you.

The Guild keeps your protected, scrawl your praises in every fresh sheet of parchment passed about, brings in new clients for you to keep yourself afloat without you ever having to leave your little cottage in the forest just beyond the towering walls of the kingdom. So, when you receive the damned letter, how can you refuse?

Green magic couldn’t protect you from the King’s headsman, nor could it keep you hidden away from the constant threat of bandits and other malevolent forces, but the lines in the small letter detailing your new apprentice’s abilities are enough to make you swallow back some of that displeasure.

“… proficient in offensive magics…” and “… formerly in service to the King as a worthy candidate for knighting…” even “… a skilled huntsman…” all tell you that whoever this enigmatic pup is, he would have no qualms hissing at and chasing off a few rogues if they dared step too close to your territory. You picture some ruggedly handsome and charming gentleman arriving at your door with a sword of the finest steel hanging from his side and you loathe the way that your heart seems to flutter with excitement at the prospect.

A fortnight after the letter arrived at your doorstep, you realize that fantasy is often far sweeter than the reality.

You’re busying yourself sorting out a towering shelf with haphazardly placed vials, some labeled and others… well, if you had to guess based on the color of the fluid inside, you should probably toss lest you accidentally poison the next poor woman that comes by simply wanting something to charm the cute farmhand while her piece of shit husband, far too old for her, is off on another brothel visit. You may not be equipped to defend yourself in battle, but you know very well how to make nightshade and wolf’s bane taste like milk and honey.

It’s when you turn with your arms burdened by a heap of unlabeled, possibly poisonous concoctions that you see a figure just outside your window— tall, face shrouded with a blackened veil with only two holes cut out for his moonstone eyes. You curse the way the sight makes you nearly jump out of your skin, dropping everything you were holding onto the wooden floor, brightly colored fluid and glass shards staining a nearby rug you had spent an entire month painstakingly hooking yourself. The specter just tilts his head at you before inviting himself inside. Why bother pretending to be civilized when you look like that, anyhow?

You crouch to collect the shards of glass and wipe away the mixture of maybe-poisons as he enters, not sparing him a glance even as his footfalls lead him to stand uncomfortably close. Perhaps if the entire ordeal hadn’t pissed you off you would have the sense to be afraid, consider the fact that this titan of a man could have been a thief, but something tells you that this is the bright-eyed whelp you had anticipated. The man doesn’t even bother to greet you, let alone kick his muddy boots off at the door, he just hovers over you with his face tilted downward as you scrub up the mess you tell yourself he had caused.

“Leave it to The Guild to send me a dolt,” you mutter below your breath, barely audible as you move to deposit bits of broken glass into a wastebasket at the corner of the room.

“Ja?” The man huffs amusedly.

“Ja?” You question.

“Yes.”

You give him a look, one that suggests you’re in no mood for whatever this is and he seems to stiffen. Any mirth in those haunted eyes of his is quickly snuffed out, replaced with his gaze darting from perusing your backside to the corner of the room, then back up to your face.

He introduces himself as ‘König’. No surname, no title. Though, you supposed in his language, his name was a title in itself. Perhaps your disappointment is more notable than you realize, because the man seems almost nervous around you as you introduce yourself in turn. His fingers curl into his palms in repetition at his sides, and it’s impossible to tell by the small glimpse of his face whether or not he wants to strangle you or bury himself instead.

You rise to your feet, feeling acutely defeated as you lead him around the home, showing him to each room before stopping at the door to his own and crossing your arms over your chest.

“You’ll stay here,” you say quietly, avoiding his eyes as he lowers himself to look at you, thanking you graciously as his hand lingers a bit too long on your shoulder. You gently reach to pry it off, only to feel him grip at your fingers running his thumb over each knuckle before finally drawing away.

You watch from the doorway as he inspects the room. A bed a size two small for a man such as himself sits in the middle, a desk cluttered with spare vials of ink and a few quills made of swan feather, and a towering bookshelf filled with books on simple magic that you haven’t bothered to touch since you were a girl. He seems pleased, despite how very little effort was made for him. As much as you wish otherwise, you almost feel the sting of guilt when you watch him seat himself on the small bed and his eyes light up as he looks to you.

It didn’t take much perception to see the world hadn’t treated this brute too kindly.

He hunts your dinner, bringing home several rabbits that he took his time to skin and prepare for cooking in the yard. Even more, he roasts them over a fire he stoked up for you in a display of gratitude. You watch him from the fogged window as he seats himself by the fluttering flames, watching the meat with a focus that speaks volumes about his own discipline.

“Have you lived on the land for long, König?,” you ask him when the two of you are seated at the table, wiping away the remnants of your meal from your lips with a small handkerchief.

He’s only rucked up his hood enough to eat, the scars lining his jaw run deep, the skin pasty there. He looked far too pale to even be a living thing at all, but his thin lips pull into a grin at your question. “You can tell?” He asks with a slight tilt of his head, the tone of his voice suggesting sarcasm. “Perceptive little witch.”

You furrow your brow at him, surprised by his sudden arrogance. You would have sooner expected the man to tear a hole through you than meet your little question with a cocky response if his twitchy behavior was anything to go by. But… his voice sends a shiver down your spine, the amused lilt mixed with his accent, some natural charm that makes areas of you ache that haven’t been touched in years.

“A man must know to feed himself, ja?”

“Well, I don’t hunt.”

He huffs out a laugh at that, raising a hand to readjust his hood, pulling it back down over his face. König is not pretty, far from it from what you could see, but you almost find yourself downtrodden that he’s hiding himself again when you were only just starting to find yourself curious.

“I will teach you,” he suggests as he clears your table, depositing both your dishes and his own into the washbasin at the far corner of the kitchen. He’s helping, and your eyes merely track him dumbfounded.

“You don’t have to, König— I, um. I’m supposed to be teaching you, remember?” You’re trying to sound authoritative, like a proper mentor but it’s fruitless, really. How long had it been since a man was this close to you, living out in the forest? You had clients, sure, but in your craft you came to know about their proclivities, their ailments, and any interest you may have had died with their innumerable requests.

The Guild had set you up, surely, you decide as your eyes wander over to the man washing your dishes, the man who had prepared your dinner, who had stared openly at your ass. The man who smelled of dew and timber and fire smoke. The man with the most beautiful, tired eyes you had ever met.

You can see the muscles of his back through his tunic, tightly bundled up from where he’s drawn his sleeves to his bicep to wash up the remnants of dinner, mind almost numbing from the sight alone. It felt like some divine torture, to be sent something you adamantly did not want only for that very same thing to make your pulse quicken and throat dry.

“I want to teach you,” he tries again.

You feel sinful for the place your mind goes then. Do the ladies in the kingdom often allow monsters to bed them? Is his size comparable to the stature?

“Okay.” Your voice was tight, barely a whisper.

He finishes up his cleaning and turns to look at you as he wrings his hands over the washbasin, his eyes narrowed and crinkled at the corners. Grinning again like a wolf knowing he’s got his claws in you.

— — —

You go over the standard protocol when dealing with customers seeking remedies with König as you hear the approaching horse whinnying out in the yard. Simple, standard. Most people had a wariness for those who were touched by magic, understandably so. It’s human nature to fear what isn’t fully understood. With König’s imposing height and the veil over his face, you needed him to be extra careful in these situations. He doesn’t seem to take offense at your fretting, merely smiles beneath the veil as you speak and all is settled and well by the time your client wraps lightly at the door.

You swing the door open with a polite smile, hands clasped at the lap of your dress. The smile is maintained even as you catch sight of his face, scars from a horrific burn covering over half of it, his right eye filmed over and sightless in its socket. He wasn’t here to charm a lady or conceal his face with glamours, only for a balm to alleviate the lingering, phantom pains that stretched from his scalp down to his neck. A decent man, and a damned good blacksmith from what you had heard. He was one of your favorites.

König observes from the corner of the room, leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest without a word as you fetch the jar of balm for the client, accept his coin and send him back on his way.

“Oh.. I don’t know how he got that nasty burn but it’s hard to look at isn’t it?”

König gives you a look, something unsaid hinted at just beyond the surface of his icy eyes, and you realize it’s a little too late to pull your words back.

— — —

Days seem to pass by with an awkward tension in the air. It’s not because of his tutelage under you, either, because he’s doing surprisingly well with his studies. Potion crafting is a tricky, fickle sort of thing. One mistake and an entire batch is ruined and the gods only knew when you would stumble upon what was required whilst foraging again. König is careful, attentive as he follows your instruction. He studies diligently, spending his free time reading through his books, often out in the foyer and if not for how skilled he was, you would assume it was all for show. Wishful thinking, a vicious yearning settling in between your breasts that wants for him to try and impress you, to court you.

It’s tense because you’ve found you can’t keep the man out of your head. In the late hour when the house has fallen silent, you could often hear his desperate grunts through the thin slats of wood separating your own room from his. You’ve imagined the sight of him fisting his cock, biting down onto his scarred lip as he whines through his release more times than you would ever confess. The gods themselves couldn’t pry the admittance from your lips that you wait up sometimes to hear him with your own hand between your thighs.

And König had this look about him now, more confident as he walks about. His hands don’t twitch as much when the two of you speak.

It’s the seventh morning as you’re preparing tea for the both of you that he enters the cottage entirely nude (apart from the hood; he seems insistent about keeping it almost entirely on in your presence). His body drips with river water, looking more like the skillfully carved statues that took residence in the castle courtyard than any man at all. You can’t help your staring, and he seems unperturbed by it as he slips behind you to set some freshly plucked milkweed on the wooden countertop. So focused on the cords of tight muscle layering his body, the obscene thing swaying between his legs, you hadn’t even noticed he had bothered to collect an ingredient you so desperately needed.

A man such as he should be seated on a throne, worshipped by a harem of pretty ladies, all pawing at his lap. Yet— he merely had you, ogling him as openly as he seemed to do to you.

“For the elixir,” he hums, sounding amused as he tilts his head to look you over as he had a striking amount of times already.

“Yeah.” You try to subtly clear your throat, cursing yourself for the way your reaction prompts his eyes to dart to the swell of your breasts beneath your dress. “Thanks.”

“You look pretty today.” He’s making everything worse. Turning your quiet life around and filling you with some horrid feeling you’ve avoided for years out here in near-isolation. “You look pretty everyday,” he corrects himself before you can speak. The obscene pillar between his legs seems to grow at the sight of you, and if you were not certain before, you know assuredly now that something has cursed you.

A good, knowing witch would tell him that his compliments were inappropriate, unwarranted. She would tell him to not walk around with his cock on full display and send him off to practice mundane spells as punishment. You are not a good, knowing witch at all if the warmth on your face is anything to go by.

“How was the river?” You ask instead, graciously retrieving a towel from the cupboard to hand to him. Despite how orderly you tried to keep things here, it’s not the water he’s dripping all over the hardwood that has your mind spinning.

“Gut.” He says words in his native tongue, often, and you’ve already grown accustomed to deciphering them. They sound prettier on his tongue than your own. He accepts the towel and merely draping it over his broad shoulders. “Come with me next time,” he offers, all but innocently.

God damnit.

“I made tea.” You’re trying to avoid his undressing stare, busying yourself with the tea kettle. The scent of mint seems to calm you as you pour the tea into your own mug, careful not to spill it out onto the counter with your trembling hands.

“I like you.” Blunt as always, you wonder if he even has any sort of control on the things he says.

God damnit all.

“I like you too, König. You’re a good apprentice,” you respond, your nerves alight with something that you can’t quite place; a twig on the verge of snapping under its weight.

He laughs soft, and graciously gives you a reprieve from well… that as he steps out of the room to finally dress himself.

Later that evening as the elixir is fully prepared and the client arrives to pick it up, you realize that König is no where in sight. It’s not uncommon; the man certainly lacked his social graces, but he hadn’t seemed to mind the shopfront side of what you do before until you had spoken so carelessly. The client is a nervous little thing, a girl not yet a woman, anxious and shaky as she takes the vial from you with an abundance of thanks. It’s no wonder why she had requested such a thing meant to put a patch over her anxieties and communicate better now. You steal only a spoonful from the cauldron as you empty it, praying that it silences the buzzing of nerves and the fluttering in your heart as you bed down for the night.

— — —

You wake to a door slamming shut in the dead of night, followed by the quieted hiss of what you believe to be a curse in a language that is not your own. It immediately sends you on high alert, thinking back to the threat of bandits and enchanted wildlife or whatever else. Jolted from your bed by the kick of adrenaline, you tiptoe down the stairs to see that… nothing is out of place. The den is as homey as always, every vial and potion bottle in its place on the shelves. The only thing that appeared to be missing at all was a book on your shelf. You knew that book, too. It was a favorite of many of your customers, the ones with weathered skin or features that were not the golden standard of delicate, royal beauty. A book on glamours was not something that would be stolen away by any thief in the night, seeing as it wouldn’t be of much help at all without a dedicated practitioner.

It only really settles in for you that your apprentice snatched it away when you take a peek out of the window and your eyes settle on a darkened corner of the garden. Tall sprigs of lavender sprung up from the earth there, and an even taller man sat, legs crossed with your book in his lap beneath the milky glow of the moon.

König looks… agitated. Even from this distance, the glass and wall and several meters of organized plant life separating you, you can see his hands shaking as he ghosts his calloused fingertips over the pages. His shoulders tense and a fiery look in his eye. He reads the incantations aloud with proper annunciation, forced through his thick accent. Repeats them, several times over. Not a thing changes.

But you leave him be, return to bed, because despite him being your responsibility, his private matters are still his own. As much as you would like to snatch the book from his hands and confess through tears that he haunts your dreaming just as he is now, you can’t bring yourself to do so.

When the book is in its place the following morning with König still in his bed, you read over the pages heavily scented by lavender. The ones that tell you how he sees himself in truth without a single word from his own being. Too tall, too ugly, too ruined.

It’s not enough to say your heart breaks. You feel it shatter somewhere in your chest, little pieces crumbling down into the darkest pit of your middle. Perhaps he’s only doing this due to your careless words about your client the other day, perhaps he wants to be seen as something beautiful for once.

The day is spent with a heavy weariness in your eyes. König picks up some slack for you as you fester in a sadness that should not even be your own; prepares something meaty for you both to eat, incorrectly sweeps some dust from the wooden floors that you know you’ll have to properly clean later on, and even tends to the garden. He’s good with the plants, gentle as he plucks berries from their stems and cuts away only what was required with a sharp dagger.

While you’ve thrown yourself over a cushioned chair, König kneels before you to speak. He’s just finished telling you some gory tale about when he squired for Ser… something, a name you don’t even care to remember. It was a rare occurrence for him to open up, you’ve come to realize that. Maybe it was simply too soon for him, but then again, he seemed to have no qualms allowing you to hear his desperate howling at night or walk about after a bath with his cock fully erect in your line of sight. If words were too much then what the hell was all of that?

“How come you didn’t become a knight, König?” you ask him, your tone sounding a bit more dead than intended. It wasn’t that you weren’t interested in his stories, you were simply still coming to terms with one of his likely innumerable secrets. “The Guild said you were a good candidate, so why?”

You ask your questions, his eyes light up. He’s not used to this, it seems, and the fact that you want to know him at all makes him giddy. His fingers drum against his thighs, eyes creasing at the corners as he smiles beneath that veil and you wonder… wonder how the world could be cruel to someone like this at all when all that you want to do is bundle up with him beneath your thick quilts and kiss him in places only lovers would.

He doesn’t respond to your question, though. Another secret for some other time, you supposed. Instead, he asks his own, “Why are you so alone?”

König speaks freely, you knew that well enough but the words that escape his lips cause you to freeze all the same. His tone is neutral, not accusatory or mocking, but there’s something— something there you can’t properly uproot.

“I’m not lonely.” A little white lie couldn’t be too terrible, yet the thought of betraying your companion in even such a small way, hurting him like you assumed so many others had before is just unthinkable. “I am sometimes, but I like living here,” you correct.

“But you are alone,” he insists.

“I am not. You’re here.”

Your words are like a charm, really, and any rationale König may have had immediately dissipates when you speak them. He climbs over you, the chair creaking under your combined weight as he looks down at you with this hope-filled expression that tugs every one of your heartstrings at once. “Let me kiss you.”

His shallow breathing flutters his veil, the hunger in his eyes more than apparent, and you’ve the sense that a mere kiss would not suffice, turning into a long night with an impossible soreness between your thighs come morning.

You shake your head and he backs off immediately, returning to sit on the floor before you instead with a simple, “Okay.”

The room falls silent for a moment. You wanted to. You’ve been longing to. And yet the opportunity had gone and went; for any normal, sane person your rejection would have been enough. Weeks spent in his company should have taught you that König was a far cry from normal. The man treats you like you’re a doll, not a seasoned witch. Takes to hiding away from any company you may have and spends his nights outside in the dark wishing and failing to change what he was.

“If I tell you why I am not a knight will you kiss me?,” he tries again as you shift to sit upright in your seat.

“What? König, no… that’s not how—”

“I will court you,” he interjects quickly, rising to his feet to stare down at you. The man was practically buzzing with excitement, and you wonder if he intends to bolt out of the house right then to bring back ample gifts of flowers and fine silks just for a chance to mash his mouth against your own.

“You’re not here to court me,” you huff with a pinched brow. Stop making this harder! Why must you always make this harder?!

“I think about you at night.”

The giant professes his affections by telling you that he’s fucking his fist to the thought of you with all the simplicity of idle talk. Somehow, that seemed less alarming than the fact that you don’t even seem horrified. Words fail you when you desperately need them most, merely gaping up at him so dumbly you must have actually belayed interest, because he continues.

“In the river too.”

“König… that’s inappropriate,” you manage to find your voice then. You know that you’re a plaster saint, too, because the thought of bathing where he spreads his seed sends a swell of warmth from your tummy to the aching blossom between your legs.

“Ja, it is… why do you tease me? The way you look…” He trails off with a shake of his head, his blue eyes narrowing in confusion. He was trembling as though afraid, so violently you almost fear he’ll come crashing over you like an ocean wave. You would catch him, drown in salt water and foam, a curtain of sharp teeth and darkness.

He fidgets as he waits for an answer that never comes. What could you say? Admit that the way he feels is a mirror of yourself, that the two of you are only seconds from diving into a pool that you could never resurface from.

But just like before, König retreats up the shadowy staircase, up to his room. Another reprieve, another stone weighing heavy in the recesses of your mind.

— — —

Secrets are stupid, evil things you decide.

You’re staring into the glazed eyes of a dead buck as it stands before you on it’s hind legs. It’s head hangs limply from its broken neck, mouth gaping with each fragile intake of breath. It’s bloated belly leaks it’s own entrails as it takes a shaky step towards you, trying desperately to kick at you with the stiff limbs tucked against its chest.

“I don’t know how to make it go away,” König pants at your side, and despite his shallow, rapid breathing there’s this calm look in his eyes. This has happened before. This has happened before and to a far worse extent than a deer.

It makes sense, now, why something as trivial as casting a glamour simply didn’t work for König. The man was touched by something darker, something the King’s men would happily cut his head from his shoulders for. Necromancy was immoral and frankly, horrifying. Seeing it now, it was really no wonder why this sort of magic would send one directly to the headsman.

The deer huffs a breath, too long and ragged. It’s not used to breathing any more, after all. König steps between you two, his dagger raised. “Just… close your eyes.”

It’s over as quickly as it’s manifested and König does well at shielding you from the aftermath, your face pressed to his chest as he pulls you into his arms and walks you back home. What was meant to be a simple practicing session, resulted in chaos, and you’ve no words to give to fill the silence hanging over the two of you as he finally deposits you by the door.

You stand on shaking legs, a million questions swimming through your mind, but even as you part your lips to speak not a single sound comes out.

He looks exasperated when he finally remedies the quiet. “You’re afraid of me.” It’s not a question, only a resounding fact.

“No,” you lie immediately with a firm shake of your head.

“I will go.” König’s eyes are tired, always tired. He’s already slinking back towards the door when you reach for him, almost clawing at the length of his sleeve in your own desperation. If you were cursed this man was, tenfold, and you couldn’t bear the thought of sending him back out into a world that had hurt him so. One that would assuredly end his torment should this ever happen again. You don’t know whether you’re being merciful or selfish anymore; the definitions all a blur. You only know that the thought of König leaving your side feels like the ache of a thorn embedded in your heart.

“König, please— We can figure something out, we’ll make sure this doesn’t happen again,” you huff as you bury your face against his shoulder. He’s both tense and trembling beneath your warmth. “I just need time to think.”

He cocks his head, a resounding twinkle of mirth breaking through the listlessness in his eyes. “Why?”

König isn’t dull-witted. He knows the words you never have a chance to speak. No one’s ever held fast to his side like this; no one has ever truly wanted him.

You know that the second he pushes his veil up and presses his mouth to yours. It’s clumsy, the force he uses, as if he’s trying to headbutt you instead of give you his affection, but you reciprocate in turn. You breathe shakily against him when you finally bring yourself to part your lips and he immediately begins to languidly lap into your mouth, drawing his arms around you; one finding the base of your neck as the other settles on your lower back, his fingers digging into your velvet dress, bunching up the fabric enough to reveal the meat of your ass.

You both moan as though you’re already having sex, caught up in a tangle of limbs he tastes your mouth as though it were sweet wine; his tongue flicks against your own before pulling back, lapping at your lip, pushing back in in some steady repetition that makes your knees weaker. Your hands find the hem of his tunic, slipping beneath it to feel a wall of muscle layered over his abdomen and he groans into the kiss with such fervor you would think he’s already come. He tears the cloth off the second you thumb over his nipple and drops to his knees clutching at your thighs.

“I need to taste you.” He sounds so desperate, looks so pitiful as though he’ll cry if you don’t allow him to fuck you with his tongue. You’re too far gone to give him anything more than a nod, and he all-too-readily lifts the skirt of your dress, hooks his finger around the seat of your panties and buries his face between your thighs. The first sweeps of his tongue are almost punishing; he wastes no time plowing the muscle into your cunt, writhing and grinding it against your velvety walls. The sound is already obscene, but then he begins to moan.

He sounds even more desperate than those nights in his lonely room, somehow, as he paws at his own erection straining against his trousers and drives into your pussy at a feverish pace. When he finally moves to take your clit between his lips, you grasp at the top of his head to keep yourself upright, moaning so loudly you’re certain that the entire kingdom could hear. He hums, amused at this, places his hands on your ass and pushes your hips for you to grind against his tongue.

When he jerks your panties aside again to rub circles against your asshole, the tautly pulled coil inside of you finally snaps. You curl over him as you mewl, cradling his head as his tongue pushes against your labia and your slit to lap up every bit of your essence. He releases his grip on your ass as you tremble, strokes himself freely below you as he pants against your pulsing cunt. Graciously, he gives you a moment to recover before he’s rising to his feet, tearing off your ruined panties and lifting you in his arms just enough to rub his leaking tip against you, you give him a strangled cry of his name when his length brushes against your swollen clit.

“Let me fuck you,” he rasps, his eyes wide and pupils blown as you squirm in his arms. “Bitte. Please. Let me fuck you.”

“Yes— Please, please fuck me König,” you whine as your arms curl over his shoulders. He doesn’t hesitate when he lies you back against your rug and pushes your knees up to your chest. His fingers flex against your flesh at the sight of your pussy still twitching from aftershocks, soaked down to your ass and pleading to be filled by him. He drops a hand to spread your lips, groaning deeply from his chest as he watches in awe as the tip of his thick cock sinks into you.

You hadn’t realized just how dirty König was until you see that look in his eye, pulling his head out only to repeatedly push into you with a choked whine of sheer bliss. You hadn’t realized how filthy you were until you find yourself tucking your arms beneath your knees to keep yourself in position so he can grope at the flesh of your ass as he does it.

“So— fuck— so schön,” he mutters as he continues to tease you like this. It’s almost hell the way he still hadn’t filled you entirely when you ache to have that long, ugly pillar buried so far it’s bruising your very womb, and it’s almost heaven the way you squeeze against him with each shallow thrust, your pussy desperate to devour his weapon of flesh.

“König…” You’re breathing his name as though it were a prayer, and as though a gift from the heavens his calloused thumb begins to rub over your clit the moment he finally sinks himself into you. There’s resistance, your cunt wasn’t meant to take a cock so large, you’re certain, but he bottoms out after what feels like an eternity, parts your knees with one hand to see your face as he gasps. You take him all, enveloping him in a vise grip and he hissed something in his native tongue, a string of words you can only imagine are praise because the way he’s looking at you now is as if he’s found a goddess all for himself.

“I’m going to fill you,” he declares as he lowers himself atop you, his weight almost crushing. “I’m going to… feels so…” His words fall short as he begins to move, groping at one of your tits as his other hand remains over your mound, flicking your clit. König’s fingers trace against your nipple before pinching it just hard enough to draw a choked mewl from you as your back arches. “Ja, liebling… you need it..”

His pace picks up, thumb deftly rolling over your clit until you spasm around his cock. It’s savage, the fervor he puts into fucking into you, grinding the tip of his cock against your cervix until you cry out, only to draw back enough to bully against your g-spot until you shiver. Your orgasm hits you so unexpectedly and so hard your bite down on your lip enough to draw blood. König licks at your mouth as your sex pulses around him, groaning in tandem with your pretty cries.

He trails small kisses along your throat before biting down as his own climax hits. He alternates between spitting out words that sound like pure venom and moans that make him sound weak as he gives you one more thrust. His cock twitches so violently inside of you as he presses against your cervix your mind entirely blanks. You can’t tell if it’s his semen or your own slick spilling past his cock, painting your thighs when it all ends. You hang limply against him as he carries you over to the chair, keeping you plugged as he pulls you into his lap.

He fully unclothes you as he peppers your face and neck in sweet, open-mouthed kisses, pets you from the crown of your skull down to your back, brings a hand around your waist to pull you close as his other squeezes and squishes at your breasts. König’s gaze is adoring as your eyes meet his, he’s looking at you with a love you’ve never even known, the warmth of summer somehow still present in those eyes like glaciers.

“Will you stay?,” you force yourself to ask as if the answer isn’t already clear, his cock’s still buried in you and the man seemed utterly in love after merely having a sweaty, adrenaline addled session.

König presses his face into your hair, nuzzling at you as he kisses your temple. “You want me to stay?” He sounds bewildered, so fucking broken that he’s confused by the prospect anyone would even want him around, even if he just gave her the best fuck she’s ever had, even if she’s been staring at him adoringly since he found his way to her door.

“Of course I want you to stay!”

“Then… Ja, I will.”

It’s a declaration of love, in a sense.

König drops his hands to your hips as he kisses you again. The desperation has been strangled, buried someplace in your core. It’s sweet now when his kisses become sloppy and overwhelming. He shifts below you as he maneuvers your hips to grind against him, his length already hardening within you again. He noses at your jaw and pressed kisses to your cheeks when you take a moment to breathe. You curl your arms around him and bury your face into the crook of his neck as your ride him, the both of you moaning soft and panting against sweaty flesh. He finishes inside of you once more just as you lift his veil and kiss along his scars.

He bathed you in the river, carrying you down to the rocky shore as though you were a treasure, his hand stroking through your hair as the water laps over your bodies. It’s not enough to simply hold you, either, because one bath becomes two after he’s bent you over a stump and licked you to completion again before rutting into you like an animal.

Nights are no longer spent with a wall between, he takes to your bed without question, ensures you’re comfortable and warm as he holds you through the night. There’s a sort of desperation in you both, two outsiders that have finally found sanctuary in one another.

“I love you.” Followed by: “I love you.”

You’re not entirely sure who says it first.

— — —

“A deer?”

There’s a man in your home that you don’t recognize, looking you over as though you were well-bred cattle rather than a human being at all. Says he’s concerned about a potential necromancer after something foul slipped its way past the castle walls and paraded itself through an annual ball, sullying a few too-expensive and uncomfortably layered dresses and goring a man with its antlers.

König was seated in front of him, rigid with a forced calm you had never seen on him before, hands clasped and unmoving. You know he’s nervous anyway, his shallow breathing speaks volumes for what the veil keeps from you. You round the table to bring them both tea, trying your best to play the part of indifference as the two men speak.

König had said he didn’t know how to make it go away, and of course he didn’t, because how do you kill something that’s already died? Neither of you would have anticipated it finding its way there of all places, and in retrospect, you’re not even certain that the thought came to mind at all, you had lost yourselves in one another the moment you arrived home. Seeing as you both were the only magic-touched folks roving these woods, it was obvious why The Guild had sent this creep to question you.

“Yes. A large buck, it was,” the man continues, winking at you as he takes a sip of the warm liquid in the mug. You wished you had poisoned it, ridding the world of a man that made your skin crawl like this surely wouldn’t be too sinful. Looking to König, you realize that there’s no need for poisons, because the look in his eyes suggests that before this interrogation is over your rug will have a more stubborn stain than spilled potions and come.

“We use green magic,” you chime in flatly, giving König a moment to quiet his fury as the man turns his attention back to you. “Maybe a traveler slipped into the kingdom, it has nothing to do with König and myself. Why are you here?”

If he hadn’t already told you a thousand times earlier that morning when he took you in the garden, laid you down in a bed of blue and purple wildflowers, König would have told you he loved you right then. You were true, protecting him and risking your own head as well.

“That’s the thing,” the man begins with a laugh entirely devoid of amusement. “Your apprentice here was under similar scrutiny while he was in service to the king. A dead man brought back to life…” he waves his hand as he speaks, staring up at the ceiling as though he’s recounting poetry instead of listing the reasoning why he wanted to have your lover decapitated. “… killed ten good knights. We never suspected him at the time, but all of this…” He shrugs his shoulders and raises his brow, looking somehow even more insufferable than before.

You cross the room to gather the letter signed off by The Guild, detailing your apprentice’s arrival and thrust it into the man’s face. “He would have never passed any sort of eligibility exam if that were the case, and you sent him here.”

The man takes the letter with a click of his tongue before he laughs again. “We didn’t,” he says as he taps the signature at the bottom, hardly a signature at all, only a messy scrawl, the guild master’s name even spelled incorrectly.

König didn’t meet your gaze when you looked to him then.

You made a promise to him you would figure this all out, and you would. You just needed to buy some time, slip some wolfsbane into his tea—

“On behalf of The Guild, I do apologize for the trouble this monster has caused…”

There is no time.

“I’ll be sure that he and his rotting pets are disposed of prop—“

You’re clutching at the dagger König had left on the side table without even thinking it over, fingers curled so tightly around the grip, your knuckles felt alight. The man’s voice is silenced the moment he notices as he takes a wary step away from you. It’s not, really, that you could ever even see yourself taking a life, you never have, but the thought of losing König over a horrible chance in the stars that some uncaring god cursed him with makes bile crawl up the back of your throat and white hot fury course through your veins with all the subtlety of a stampede.

It wasn’t his fault.

König places himself between the two of you and curls his arm around you protectively. If lying for him hadn’t already resigned you to the same fate, drawing the dagger assuredly had. He gently pries the dagger from your hand and tucks your face against his chest, just as he had before when he tried to correct the accidental gift of life he had bestowed to the deer, only this time… you feel the pull of his muscles, you hear sounds of the dagger meeting it’s mark as he cuts through the interrogator’s tender flesh. It takes mere seconds for you to know his blade has struck true, the dying man eliciting a weak gurgling cry from his torn throat as König drops the dagger to the floor with a clatter and strokes your hair.

He makes you stand outside while he cleans up his mess.

A sane woman would run, she would count her losses and look back on her time spent with this unhinged man with criticism. You find that you are not a sane woman when you realize the tears falling freely down your cheeks are not of fear or anger at your own situation, but at the knowledge that he’s suffered being shunned on his own for so long; that he’s killed without remorse because this is what it takes for someone like him to survive at all.

When he finally returns from burying the body and scrubbing the blood from your floor, you readily embrace him and he nuzzles into your hair.

“Es tut mir leid,” he huffs out against you, pulling you so close to him you think, pray, he’ll never let go. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.” It’s not and you both know it, but you reassure him with your words and soft kisses to his cheeks as he wipes away your tears. “We can not stay here.”

We. Us. Together.

Something breaks in him at your words, and he shuts his eyes tightly to fight back the tears like claws at his eyes.

“So, tell me where we’ll go.”

He tells you of a place he read about in a book, somewhere across the sea and past a stretch of hills where the accidents he may cause won’t have him looked upon like a monster, where you can love one another in comfort, a place he’s dreamed about since he was a boy and found out just what he was when he reanimated his mother’s beloved cat. He tells you of his father’s cruelty, that a cat’s claws aren’t the only thing that’s left him riddled with scar tissue.

He tells you everything as you pack your things and begin a long walk to a shoddy harbor by the sea, his hand in your own as your board the ship to a new home, a new beginning.

[358jours]

Dan Heng x GN!Reader⎢Under your charm

Word Count⎢2163

Genre/Tags⎢SFW, fluff, Dan heng has anxiety, first meetings, pining, written and posted before game launch⎢Crossposted on AO3

Though reserved, Dan Heng is completely in tune with his body, his emotions, and most importantly– his intuition. His instincts are what made him run from Xianzhou, what made him run from the IPC, what got him boarding the Astral Express. It kept him away from the wrong people, it’s what made him join the ones worthy of trust and he’s now in an environment that doesn’t force him to face his past. His intuition is the reason he is still alive this far, so he never doubts any of it. 

Or had, until this very moment where he’s not so sure of himself anymore.

You seem like a loving soul, so caring in every way you exist. Your soothing aura only makes the beating of his heart more erratic. That’s what he blames this odd feeling on, your kindness. 

Dan Heng has laid his eyes on plenty of beautiful partners in his life, he knows what lust entails. The way he’s drawn to you? it’s something deeper than simple attraction, something instinctual. Something that has never happened before. Something he’s scared of. 

He wishes he wasn’t on babysitting March Seventh duty so often so he could approach you and yet — even in his free time, his apprehension keeps him a distance away from you. That’s the best he can do, look at what you do, listen in on any conversation you’re having, gaze at your form, avert his eyes when your face turns in his direction. It’s a bit like dancing: one step forward, two steps back, except the steps are very very small. 

He thinks he’s slick about it but his self-doubt makes him second guess himself. He hopes nobody has noticed, and especially not you. (Though he secretly wishes you did, so you would take the leap he’s so scared of, so you would approach him. Until then he’ll keep away, waiting.)

Dan Heng stares at the charm in his hand, lost as to what to do. It’s not from a passenger, as it’s been lost in the private lobby of the Astral express. But the place is completely empty now, except for himself. It’s obvious it’s a cherished item, as seen by how used it looks. It has a bit of a weight, despite being made of fabric. He’s dubious on who would own such a keychain however. It doesn’t seem like something March would own, neither Welt, nor Himeko…

His mind halts when he realizes it’s probably yours. 

What should he do? Leave it here? He’s not too sure about which places are considered ‘yours’, where would only you find it. March is a troublesome girl, if she found out anything the whole Astral Express would know of it by the end of the day. Himeko is a perceptive woman, if she had any idea of his inner turmoil about you, she would probably chastise him about it. Welt is a bit more respectful, giving it to him would have lesser consequences unless you asked who found it back…

“Dan Heng, you’re here!” The boy closes his fist at the sound of March Seventh’s voice. Defeated by the circumstances, he pockets the charm. The girl grabs his arm, full of energy as always. “Come on, Himeko called for us in the control room.”

He’ll deal with the keychain later, if he doesn’t forget about it.

He forgets about it. Well, not completely at least. His subconscious reminds him of it when he can’t sleep at night, when all his worries come for his throat. Otherwise, it doesn’t cross his mind unless you’re in the same room as him, which isn’t too often. Whenever that happens, you’re usually busy with someone else, occupied with your phone or the time simply isn’t right (read: he didn’t have the courage to approach.). He carries the charm with him most of the time, unless he’s out of the Express. 

He blames it on being occupied, on not being sure it’s yours. Of course, fate has other plans.

Dan Heng follows March Seventh into the private lobby of the Astral Express. He’s a bit tired, his step quieter than the pitter patter of his companion. “We’re back! Everything went well we got– what’s wrong?” 

Three ‘welcome back’ rings out in response. Welt and Himeko are, as usual, sipping tea as they sit facing each other. What caught their attention is you– who’s under a table searching for something. You shift around to look at them. “Ah, the strap of my phone charm broke earlier and I don’t know where the keychain ended up. I’m hoping it’s somewhere here, but I can’t find it.” 

“Oh no! I’ll help you find it!” March jumps out to join you. 

“Really? You don’t have to, but thank you. We will definitely get it back if there’s two of us. You’re kinder than the elders.” 

Himeko snorts at the jab. “Think about our poor old backs. Besides, we have to finish our tea while it’s still warm.” Welt smiles as you laugh. 

Dan Heng averts his eyes. Of course it’s yours, of course. He should’ve known better, that right at the perfect opportunity to give it back to you, he doesn’t have it on himself. March will definitely talk about the mission in high detail, there’s no need for him here. He sighs quietly, opting to go back to his bedroom.

The next time he’s out of the Express, he’s accompanied by you and March. It’s a simple errand run, nothing as strenuous as some other missions. He’s not really needed but Welt insisted, “You’re more perceptive than March, it’s simply so she doesn’t get in trouble.”

Said girl has her arm linked with yours as she blabbers endlessly. You don’t mind, commenting here and then to show you’re listening. Dan Heng keeps to himself trailing behind you both, simply making sure you’re going the right way. 

Despite the anxiety of running into someone from his past, he’s content being present. He could count the times you were out of the Express on a single hand, and never with him. It’s nice to see you out, how you react outside, how you interact with March, what shops and items catch your attention. You’re relaxed in the way you walk, and— Dan looks up to the sky. He’s only a man after all.

“We better find you a new charm before we get back!” March exclaimed. The boy curses under his breath, ‘not this damn charm again…’ He left it in his bedroom this time.

“But why? There’s no need if it doesn’t mean anything special.” Your face expresses your confusion. 

The girl shakes your form with all her strength, faking anger. “Aw come on, don’t you buy things just because you like them? Take it as a gift from me, that’s special enough. Besides, you seemed really bummed out about losing your old one.” 

You only chuckle awkwardly but Dan is sensitive to your unease. You’re kind, and you enjoy caring for others but it seems you dislike when someone helps you in return. He sighs when he feels his heart warming up. “March, you need to stop making people uncomfortable. That charm held a lot of dear memories, replacing it with a new one just like that won’t cut it.”

You both turn around, surprise on your faces (he wonders, did you forget about his presence?). The girl’s gaping mouth turned into a pout. She protested, but all went from one ear to the other when he saw your smile. You nod in gratefulness, your eyes softening. His lips curl up ever so slightly. 

March’s voice shakes him awake, he’s forced to look away. “Hey come on, are you listening to me!? You’ve been so quiet this far, somehow quieter than usual!” 

“You’re so loud, it’s hard not to. Besides, you talk enough for the both of us.”

As she lets out an astronomically comical gasp, your laugh rings out.

He makes his way out of the lobby, toward his bedroom. The Express won’t arrive at its next destination anytime soon. It means he gets some time for himself, to think, and to decompress. 

He reminisces about his past, what he has accomplished since he got on the express, where he would go if he had to leave again. He ponders about his companion… It’s been a while since he last saw you. The weight of your charm is almost none in his pocket, but it’s still there. It’s probably better to give up at this point. 

He should think about something else.

His steps are quiet as he walks through the train. The cabins to his right look all the same: classic green seats, light brown and black walls, dark gray floor, completely empty. One, two, three, four, five, six cabins per wagon. He opens the door connecting to the next car, and goes in. One, two, three, four, and— he stops. 

This cabin door is open. He didn’t expect for you to be there. Seems like thinking about the wolf got him seeing the real one. You’re reading a book, sitting sideways with your back against the window. Your current outfit is more casual (and probably comfortable) than what he usually sees you in, but it fits you just as good. 

You turn the page, look up, then back to your page and— you do a double take when you notice him at the door. You’re a bit surprised, but your smile tells him it’s not the bad kind. “Dan Heng, hello! Please don’t simply stand there, come sit down. How are you, is there anything I can do for you?”

“Hello. I’m fine, what about you?” His steps are just the slightest bit uncertain, smaller than his usual walk. He comes to sit down on the opposite couch. 

“Really? You seem a bit tired though, are you sure you’re getting enough rest?” There’s something in your smirk, as if you know what he does not. Your eyes have a glint of mischief in them, and he wonders if you see right through him. 

He avoids your stare, opting to close his eyes for a moment. “Nothing a couple nights cannot fix.” 

“Hm.” You look at him a bit longer, your expression relaxing. Your head turns sideways, akin to a dog. A moment passes, until you shift back to continue your book. “If you have trouble sleeping, I have medicine and concoctions from Xianzhou that are rather effective. Don’t be a stranger, I’ll give you some whenever you ask.”

Dan Heng doesn’t answer. All people aboard the Astral Express are kind, but your kindness is not something he’s used to. Your care seems so familiar, something he hasn’t felt in a long time. He stopped getting too close to those generous-types, sheltering himself was a matter of survival. But you’re a part of this crew for a reason, he reasons. 

And suddenly, he’s not too sure of himself. He’s lost on what to talk about. He really would like to rest, get back to his room, but he doesn’t get up. His instincts scream at him to stay with you longer, and leaving now would be pretty awkward. The air is slightly stuffy between you two, or perhaps it’s just him given how deep in your book you are.

His hand goes into his pocket, grasping at the cause of all of this. The weight of the charm is almost none in his hand, but the weight of what it implies sparks up his anxiety. “Excuse me,” You look up at him curiously. He slowly extends his hand toward you. “Is this… yours?”

“My charm! You found it back!” The happiness on your face is something he doesn’t get to see often. Your grin, the light in your eyes, the way your attention is on him, it’s all a bit much. Your hands touch his to grasp the keychain. There’s sparkles on your face as you inspect it. “Thank you so much. You’re really a reliable person, Dan Heng.” 

“It’s nothing.” His hand scratches at the back of his neck, ears blushing at the compliment. All the pressure on his shoulders evaporates, perhaps it was all him from the very start. You’re easier to approach than what his apprehensions told him, always returning each gesture no matter how small. Your consideration of others is a virtue he has always liked about you. He was wrong to count himself out because of his past, you’re ignorant of who he used to be.

He exhales, his first attempt at a conversation starter. “That keychain seems to mean a lot to you.” 

“You noticed? This lil’ guy’s got quite the story.” You look at him kindly.

 And as you start explaining why that charm is so special to you, as he listens to it all, Dan Heng realizes it was wrong of him to dub you as a stranger. You were more than that since the very start. 

[plussizefantasia]

Don't Call Me Kitty

Bucky Barnes x Black Cat! Reader

Word Count: 2k

Chapter 1/6

Next>

Warnings: Reader is plus size and it's talked about being somewhat of a negative thing (its not) , language, I think that's it

AN: This is part one of the BlackCat!Reader x Bucky work that I've been working on for a while. It was a request although I can't seem to find the original request anymore. This is part one of six, all fully written but I decided to split it up because this is by far the longest thing I've ever written and I wanted to publish it in chunks. Let me know if you like it, or if the rest of this should just stay hidden in my drafts for all of eternity.

If you had to spend one more fucking minute in the same car as James Buchanan Barnes, one of you would be dying. And you are pretty fucking confident that it won't be you.

 He won't get off your back. Every chance he has it seems like he launches himself at the opportunity to remind everyone that you weren’t always the goody two shoes he thinks you are pretending to be. But God forbid you call him out on the obvious hypocrisy he's spewing because then you’d have to face Rogers and the inevitable tirade he’d go off on about how his best friend was never a bad man, just deeply broken and how the actions he’d taken while under Hydra’s control were not his own.

You don’t take issue with Barnes bringing up your past, it's not a secret. Everyone on the team had at one point been the focus of your ire on one of your bad days and that more often than not led to some sort of discussion where you would disclose more and more about the things you were trying to forget. Your issue with Barnes was that he was trying to insinuate you were one of the good guys. And you’d rather die than admit you were an Avenger. 

You are not, nor will you ever be a good guy. You aren’t necessarily a bad guy, but you are not a goody two shoes. Barnes knows that, he also knows that it pisses you off to no end when he tries to tell everyone that you're acting like one.

“Shoulda seen the way she was sucking up to Fury Stevie, she’s trying to be teacher’s pet I’m tellin’ ya.” You were not sucking up to Fury you were stealing his wallet and trying to distract him so he wouldn’t notice the fifty bucks you lifted, but Barnes didn’t need to know that. 

The worst thing about this hate that you have for James Barnes was the fact that you know deep down you don’t hate him at all. Sure, he pushes your buttons and knows just what to say to get you to want to knock his pretty little teeth out. But he's also a genuinely good guy and most of the time isn't all that bad to be around. But god it's so much easier to hate him than it is to sift through all those feelings. 

There was also the fact that the two of you work well together. You can be bickering one second and covering each other’s sixes flawlessly the next. You have a theory on that though, you think that because both of you had been forced to work with people you didn’t trust very much at one point or another you got used to getting the job done no matter what other feelings were floating around in the background. That's what you try to convince yourself is the case. The idea that you and Barnes simply make a good team is nauseating. 

Barnes isn’t only good to have in the field though, he has proved his worth off the battlefield when he knocked around some poor recruit who had been running his mouth about you in the training gym. The kid couldn’t have been more than twenty and honesty you weren’t going to hold his ignorance against him. If he underestimated you because of your size, then that was on him and in a way, was only gonna help you in the long run.

That was something that you had noticed early on, that most people couldn’t fathom that someone who wasn't a size four could be as good at your job as you are. “Most People” also included people on your team, it had taken you saving Tony’s life in the field more than once for him to admit that he was wrong about you. You are still trying to convince Thor that just because you look soft does not mean you can’t still kick his ass. 

You have made people’s lack of faith in you into a good thing. Rich guys aren’t worried about their wallets or watches when a meek little thing bumps into them on the subway and who would suspect the overweight chick to be the one who scales the sides of buildings to get her hands on some unreleased tech from Hammer’s R&D department? Bucky Barnes.

Bucky has never regarded you with the same kind of hesitance as the others. He has never once made it seem like he thought you couldn’t get the job done because you were bigger. And you had to admit, it's refreshing. Not that you need his approval but it's still nice to not be looked at with some kind of doubt, or incredulity. That doesn’t mean that he doesn’t piss you off though.

“I swear to God Barnes, if you change the radio station one more time I’m gonna cover your whole arm in fucking extra strength magnets while you're asleep.” An interesting threat sure, but one you will one hundred percent follow through on. 

“The station keeps changing to static, kitty, you want to listen to static for the next three hours?” He asks. He's right, you are both on your way to some ball in Alabama and according to Tony, all the Quinjets are in use for this weekend (bullshit), which leaves you and Bucky to get there the old fashion way, a road trip. 

You're already eight hours in and are currently driving through the small towns and mountains that cover a good section of the south. Which means that the radio is cutting in and out. And yeah he's right, you don’t want to listen to static but you also don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

“I’d prefer the goddamn static over the song changing every five fucking seconds.”

“Well, it’s either that or silence, kitty.”

“First of all Barnes, I’ve told you not to call me kitty. It’s demeaning. Secondly, maybe some silence will do you good, you might be able to hear yourself think for once. If you’re capable of thinking.” You shoot back at him.

“Oh, kitty I have plenty of thoughts I’m pretty sure I think enough for the two of us.” He looks at you without turning his head away from the road, giving you a sidelong glance. 

“Oh yeah, about what? How to get more beefy? Whatever the next idiotic insult you’ll hurl at our resident birdbrain will be? Whether or not you'll get wrinkles from the perpetual furrow in your brow?” 

“I don’t think you want to know what goes on in my head, Mittens.” He pulls his bottom lip up in between his teeth to stop the smirk that is spreading across his face.

“You did not just call me fucking Mittens” Your jaw is practically on the floor. The audacity of this man. 

“You said I couldn’t call you kitty. What are my other options?” 

“Maybe my name? Asshole.” You also have to fight back a smile. Teasing Barnes is nice, it was the closest thing you have to a genuine relationship. Too bad you can’t stand him.

“You memorized your cover?” He asks you. You almost scoffed at him, you're not a goddamn amateur.

“Of, course. I’m Debrah Longborne, Georgian peach and heiress to my Daddy’s large fruit processing fortune.” This mission is a simple one. You're here to take down a corrupt governor and what better place to do than at the gala he and his wife organize every year? You had Tony donate to his wife’s foundation under your cover name. Large enough to draw attention but not too much attention that you can’t get your job done. “And you…?” 

“Brantley Moore, Law professor at Vanderbilt, and your arm candy for the night.” You like going undercover, and this assignment is a short one, just one weekend. It's almost like being another person, just with all your skills and an ulterior motive. 

“Who the hell picked the name Brantley?” You ask.

“I know right, I sound like some preppy douchebag” 

“Not too far off then.”

“Fuck off.” He laughs. You like his laugh. His eyes crinkle in the corners when he does it, a brief glimpse into the years he has lived through, not all sunshine and rainbows, but enough joy to have laugh lines. 

“So Debrah and Brantley met where?”

“Vanderbilt has society mixers every winter, where the professors and some select students get the chance to network with some donors and other important people. It’s a believable story plus there’s over a thousand attendees at these things which makes it easy to slip our names onto the list.”

“And whose idea was that?” you lift an eyebrow. “Mine.” 

“How do you know about the Vanderbilt mixers?” 

“I had a life before I met you, didn’t you know that.”

“I knew you had a life I guess I just didn’t assume it involved rubbing elbows with southern socialites at prestigious university parties.”

“I wasn’t rubbing elbows, it was for a deal made by Peirce with the university president, I was there as a bodyguard for Pierce and to cover our tracks when things inevitably got bloody.” Any hint of teasing falls from Bucky’s voice. He says shit like that sometimes. Shit that you think he says to scare you or to remind you how dangerous he was. All it does is make you sad. Nobody deserves to go through what he had, and you hate that those evil bastards had taken a great man and mangled him. 

The conversation peters out after his revelation. The two of you ride in silence for the next two hours. Thirty minutes in, you get closer to the city and the radio sputters back to life. Bucky reaches to turn it off. 

When you finally reach the hotel both of you are a bit on edge. You’ve been driving all day, switching back and forth every few hours but Bucky’s silence for the last little stretch seems to have affected both of you more than you’d thought.

Still, you have a job to do and you’ll be damned if you let the metal-armed nuisance ruin your reputation for perfect follow-throughs. You grab your small weekender bag out of the backseat and make your way to the front desk. You school your features and dust off the southern belle persona that has been stashed away in your metaphorical conman toolbelt.

You can feel Bucky trailing behind you, and an idea pops into your head. Swiftly turning on your heel you pass your bag into his unoccupied hand. Not giving him a chance to say no you rotate back around and march forward at a pace fitting to a very busy society woman. 

Bucky sputters behind you and you toss over your shoulder, “If I’m playing an heiress this weekend, I'm not lifting a goddamn finger if I don’t have to.” 

Marching the rest of the way to the desk you flash the young woman behind the counter a polite smile, “Room for Longborne”. She immediately matches your smile and begins typing away on her keyboard pulling up the reservation that was made for your cover.

“Of Course Ms. Longborne, I have you down for the Iris sweet for three nights is that correct?”

“Sounds correct to me, although if you could hold the room for one more day that would be just peachy of you, we don’t know how long our business here is going to take and it’s better to be safe than sorry. You understand of course.” You put every ounce of Southern charm into your words and pray to God that this interaction can be over sooner rather than later.

“Of course Ms., Here are your keys. Your room is on our twelfth floor and the number is embossed on the front of the card.” She hands you a package of three cards across the desk. “If you need anything at all don’t hesitate to call.”

You nod, taking the key cards from her hand, and motion for Bucky to follow you to the elevator. 

The ride up to the twelfth floor is silent, much like the last stretch of the car ride. What you aren’t expecting is Bucky’s exclamation when he walks into the room before you.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” The first words Barnes has uttered in nearly two hours. “There's only one fucking bed.”

[circeyoru]

Collection of Overlords _ Part 9 = Requested

[Alastor x Soul Owner of All Overlords!Reader]

Part 1 — Part 1.5 — Part 2 — Part 3 — Part 4 — Part 5 — Part 6 — Part 7 — Part 8 — Part 9 (here) — Part 10 — Part 11 — Part 12 — Part 13

In a snap, you and Velvette were the only ones in a pitch black space. Even though it appeared to be nothing but darkness, Velvette could still see your figure before her, serenely floating in the space while she was disgracefully trying to balance herself from the lack of gravity

You watched with a gentle expression while Velvette desperately tried to steady herself quickly before she embarrasses herself even further. Especially not after her confident declaration of independence from the Vees. After a while of watching her frail around in the air, you snapped your fingers and gave her a platform to stand on

Finally, you welcomed her to a pocket world of your own. A world where only you can enter and bring others in and out, only with your permission. A world that is similar to what humans would prefer to as ‘limbo’. It’s a place where you let souls roam till they lost their minds, a world where anyone was at your mercy

Though you only brought Velvette here as a means of ensuring privacy since Cannibal Town was more open in their affairs and didn’t mean letting others know details through some gossip here and there. Then it was a matter of time before the whole story or truth was pieced out

As much as you liked the citizens of Cannibal Town, you’re not above distrusting them as they were the nosy bunch. Yet you know that they weren’t the same stalking type like Vox is with his technology

This place was created more as a counter to that Garden of plenty. Trees, fruits, animals, clean streams, and even more. Truly a place of plenty that anyone would love to stay in. Compared to your little dark dimension, it was obvious where one would prefer if given the choice to stay. Instead of calling it a counter to the Garden, you were more incline to call it an opposite

But there really was nothing to do here instead of floating around and conjuring whatever as long as it was you doing it. Another souls can’t do a thing in this place. Even if you put Zestial in here, he can do his fancy magic or Alastor can’t summon his tendrils and minions

Why’d you think you hold an iron fist over the strongest beings in Hell? You can instantly put them in their place by stripping them of all their power and possession. Put them in a place where they are nothing to you

Hell is a place where power and authority meant stability. Unlike Earth, there aren’t laws written on paper where everyone must follow else there’d be punishment. Unlike Heaven, it wasn’t made up with beings of purity and goodness. No. Hell was a place where the worse of the worse resides, where monsters and demons of one’s nightmare lives and strives

Hell is a lawless and chaotic domain that you rule and oversee. It was never your intention to show yourself nor make yourself know to the beings of Hell. But when Trick (Noir at the time) were praised and worshipped by their Angels and other Heavenly beings, you wanted something similar to that

No, not in the same way. Oh clouds, never in that way. You wanted obedience and loyalty, you wanted to be the thing they feared. You didn’t like how they believe they were the ones in power. So one by one, you defeated the ruling powers and reminded them they were nothing. That was how the 7 Rings of Hell came to be, divide and conquer

While Heaven has that one place, you created levels for Hell. A Ring for each Sin. And what better Ring for you to primarily stay in but Pride? 

When the first ‘Sinner’ arrived, you looked through the soul’s memory. There had never been a reason for you to visit Earth, nor did Noir arrange the frequent chats like nowadays, so you never expected for a soul to arrive in Hell or death for that matter

Seeing the pridefulness in their evil deeds, you wonder just a moment if more souls would be Sinners and sent to Hell later. If so, should they be judged by you and placed into different Rings? Then came the idea of you staying behind the scenes, as the puppeteer of the ruling figures sounded appealing

The moment Lucifer and Lilith arrived, you gave them their titles as the King and Queen of Hell. But never the title of ‘Emperor’ or ‘Empress’, no, they were merely the king and queen on the chess board. The player was you and opposite to you was none other than Trick

More and more Sinners came to Hell and then a whole world of them came. So you restricted them to the Pride Ring since they were Lucifer and Lilith’s handy work. They should be looking over their subjects. Sinners were indeed prideful, they were unable to comprehend a higher power such as yourself even existing. Well, some weren’t even aware they were only existing in one of the seven Rings

You found Lucifer and Lilith’s attention to Sinners’ being lacking. What with their whole family drama, you took things into your own hand. You created a group, your very own collection. You dubbed them ‘Elites’

Individuals with power and authority in a specific domain or area, even element. They were your hand picked, they were the ones with potential to advance to a higher level. The first level was their title as an ‘Overlord’, the next was your acknowledgement and support, then a unique title of recognition, and the rest is as natural as breathing. Obedience, servitude, and loyalty

“Velvette,” You called out to her as she straightened up on her platform, your softer smile widened a bit. “Do you see yourself as an Overlord?”

The doll demon’s shoulders raised a bit as she bit her lower lip, her hands balling into fists too. It took a few seconds before she spoke, very unlike what she would usually do in the past. “I once did. But now that I look back, I don’t think I’m one.”

“You are correct.” You didn’t even sugarcoat the truth, nor did you hide that widening smile of yours. The fact that your eyes were still closed might there was no malice behind your words, merely that you were playful with the truth. Like you were dangling a carrot for a rabbit. You raised your palm and a necklace with a familiar eye design pendant appeared hovering, “Are you aware of what this it?”

“The thing you used to contact Overlords?” Velvette seen it before, Vox was always in a frenzy when that lit up and a voice came through. He was also overly pushy with keeping it, claiming that he was the only one that can keep track of it. So she never saw or touch it herself outside of when Vox would buy it to their penthouse.

You chuckled, “Ah, The Vees, weren’t you all acting as a team? How is it that you lack knowledge of this? Is Vox the brains? Does he keep all the information from you and Valentino?” You reviled in the contemplating look on the doll’s face before continuing. “It has been explained, this is a symbol of your status as an Overlord. You are to keep it on you at all times so that I can keep an eye on you, also to lend you protection should you require it.”

Velvette’s eyes widened, “Vox never… He said… He said only he should…”

You hummed, expecting such a result already. “I know. That’s why…” Your head tilted as your eyes peeked open a bit, a chill was sent down Velvette’s entire body when she made eye contact, yet she can’t look away. That look in your eyes, it was enchanting and magnetic. “When you said you can’t stand it, you want to separate your association with Vox and Valentino…” You suddenly appeared in front of her in the blink of an eye, making her fall back. “Well, then I had to give you a chance.”

“A chance?” Velvette repeated in disbelief. 

You looked down at her, your eyes now closed but you small smile stayed. “Yes. Making you start from rock bottom, you’re not at the bottom when you’ve built yourself quite the reputation, right? So why not offer you a chance to change instead?” You snapped your fingers and holograms of plain cards appeared all around the two of you. “You have various skills and talents, I won’t deny that. But you lack a solid base and worthy allies to lean on, it shows you see, how little you know of my expectations yet try to adhere to them.”

Velvette figured you meant when she was counting down for the Vees to bow in union when greeting you back then at the meeting. 

A card flew to you and you held it between two fingers, “No longer will you be a demon of social media. You will be reborn under my support and guidance of more knowledgable associates.” The card in your fingers burned to nothing and Velvette felt herself lightened like a weight was removed from your shoulders. You gestured to the cards floating around, “Review what you have and what you wish to have. Assess yourself. Assemble your new title.”

“Yes,” Velvette fell to her kneel on the platform, bowing her head for a moment before look directly into your eyelids, where your eyes would make contact with hers if they were opened. “I will not disappoint you again, My Sovereign.”

When you brought Velvette back to the room, Rosie was already giddy as she immediately dragged Velvette off to change clothes. Something about changing style to show a new transformation or a new ‘Velvette’ that has been reborned. Well, Velvette didn’t even disagree or fight Rosie in that and went along with it

You were positive they’d be having a little chat lady to lady and soul to soul while Rosie dresses her up just like the doll she is. So you just sat down and sipped from your cup that Rosie didn’t neglect. You leaned back into the chair while you hummed a satisfied tune to no one, things were turning out great

Originally, you thought it’d take longer for something to happen with the Vees, but for this situation to happen and so fast… It just proves that they weren’t as bonded as they promoted

Naturally, the Vees were using each other to gain power and authority. While it was a good plan, since it was similiar to how you Collection works. It lacked solidity. With Velvette being the one to leave so willingly, it meant that she was less connected to them as a team player

They all had their uses to each other, Vox providing the technological platform, Valentino providing the content, and Velvette deciding what was presented. In this sense, they were solid. But what of their bonding and connection? To be this disorganized and this arrogant, there was bound to be clashes

You saw that when your collection first met each other. There was no order and no connectivity, that was what makes the team weak and unworthy in your eyes. Though there was always the matter in their titles

Unlike your other Overlord souls, theirs were more of a self-proclaimed titles and never approved by the likes of you. Similar to what you did with Velvette moments ago, each Overlord had their ‘makeover’ and rebirth after recognizing that their original selves were lacking

More importantly, it served as a way for you to build a multifunctional collection. While you’ll admit Overlords were nowhere as strong as the Hellborn royalty or nobles, you do see their potential, they were the only ones that can get stronger with more souls collected. In a way, you see some similarities they have with you. That was why your elite was comprised of these souls you nurture and care for

Your thoughts moved back to the present when Rosie caught your attention and gestured to the doorway where Velvette emerged. Though less revealing, she was wearing something more commanding yet modest. You hummed with a smile, complimenting her new look. Velvette bastfully thanked you but credited Rosie for the work

Now Velvette was getting somewhere. You see that she wasn’t just saying that she’ll change to keep her place in your collection, but truly wanted to change for herself as well. A slow progress that you’ll no doubt patiently watch over and tend to, something that you won’t do alone

Velvette kneeled down and asked a humble request from you. She wanted your approval so that she can make amends with Carmilla. Well, she has much to learn, this wasn’t something she needed permission for, in fact, she could just do it herself. Yet you eyed Rosie and say that smile that made you understand this was Rosie’s suggestion

You’ll humor the two. With a snap of your finger, Carmilla suddenly found herself in the same room was the three of you. Eventhough she was confused, first thing she did was bowed and greeted you. After receiving your greetings back, she questioned what was going on, eying Velvette

♪ I should have shown some respect. ♪ Velvette stepped forward and bowed her head with a guilty expression, ♪Checked my behaviour. It wasn’t right of me to act so brazen. ♪ 

Carmilla raised her eyebrow, then quickly caught on to the shift in Velvette’s position and smirked, ♪ Ha. That’s rare. Not very like the wild lady I know from before. ♪ She pointed a finger at Velvette, ♪ Maybe I missed it, but since when does Velvette the Doll Demon act all submissive and dull? Hm? There’s nothing wrong with your attitude, there’s no need for a new one. It was all your actions and associations at fault. Now that you’re not the backbone of the Vees, ♪ She took Velvette by the hand and guided her to bow before you while you smiled with a head title. ♪ Know that we all serve one Liege! ♪ 

♪ The past is the past! ♪ Rosie joined in and chimed, side hugging the smaller demon. ♪ We support each other as Our Liege’s Elite Souls. ♪ 

♪ Hehe. ♪ Velvette smiled along, ♪ I guess I should have learned to be respectful sooner. ♪ 

Carmilla maintained her smirk, but now it was more taunting and playful, maybe a hint of pridefulness in it as well. ♪ You were once among the inane and uninformed. But not anymore now that you have found your place and strive to change! ♪ 

Velvette gave the two taller demons a grateful and relieved look, ♪ I hope I didn’t strive too much of a nerve. Cause when I acted that way, I never stopped to think that I’d regret it. And why was I so blind before? That’s what I thought I was supposed to act, now I’m mad that I did that. But there’s no way I can change the past, now I see what I should be doing. Can I have your support? ♪

Carmilla and Rosie finished together, ♪ Of course, you need but ask! ♪

Clapping came from you as you gave them all proud smiles, “Now that’s my Elite Collection.”

Joy, pride, and warmth spread through the three female Overlords’ bodies. Rosie couldn’t hold it in and grabbed everyone into a hug, even pulling you into it. While Rosie was all clam and collected about it, you can’t help but notice Carmilla and Velvette acting all flustered.

The door suddenly slammed open and revealed Alastor, his eyes blinked and his body froze like a deer in headlights. Everyone stared at the opposite side in silence before you offered, “Want to join in?”

Note: That ends Velvette's section. Moving on to new minor plotlines~~ All a build-up, promise!! How's this one? (ps. Alastor's in the next one, the * special moment * between you two)

Circe Y. 

My Works: MASTERLIST

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[creaman]

—BECAUSE KUNG FU PANDA 4 KILLED MY GRANDMA, OKAY?

To preface, I watched this movie and I'm genuinely tweaking right now so I had to write down a very brief (lie) criticism on this film — which you should boycott, by the way.

Starting with the things I liked, before briefing my primary points of criticism:

Po's Character Regression

Po and Zhen's Dynamic

The Chameleon

I'd also yap about Lord Shen and the death of the art style and the entire narrative and pacing and use of the staff of wisdom but my therapist says being such a hater is 'unhealthy' or something. My heart is full of hatred.

SPOILERS for the entirety KFP4 for the 2 people who care.

KFP4 undermines and ignores the previous three movies — Unwriting character developments, outright removing the Furious Five, straying from the character design philosophies and is completely inconsistent with the established lore.

Things I Liked About Kung Fu Panda 4

The Chameleon's character design

Visual gag in the Tavern where Po uses a recently thrown axe as a hat rack (made me laugh)

When Mr. Ping did this:

so cute! the little heart!

Po — Character Writing

Po, as established in the previous movies, is confident in his abilities and identity — he’s learnt inner peace, he’s matured as a character. However, in KFP4, his character has completely regressed. He’s immature again (such as KFP1, possibly worse) and says verbatim, “only knows kicking butt and taking names” — UNLEARNING inner peace and insisting that “…being the Dragon Warrior is all I know.”

It’s childish, and sort of Hotel Transylvania-esque.

Which isn’t helped by the comedy, the dialogue — a large chunk of which are jokes in the style of:

Master Shifu says something philosophical

Po quips off of it / doesn’t get it (i.e. Whoa!! beat I don’t know what that means.)

Oh, it’s great, yeah, very tolerable. Po’s shenanigans are normally reeled in by the presence of the Furious Five who are generally more serious in nature, creating a much needed balance in the dynamic — So without them, it’s just Po becoming increasingly obnoxious and insufferable with every consecutive quip throughout the screenplay.

Po and Zhen — Character Dynamics

[No more graphics sorry I'm too angry]

As if it wasn’t obvious that Zhen was going to be the next Dragon Warrior the second she was introduced.

Zhen, as a character, has no depth besides being a quippy thief. She quips, she steals. This character has no motives — it can be assumed that the writers intended on a ‘change of heart’ thing, but she isn’t established as evil, her working for the Chameleon is written as a (albeit poor) twist reveal.

By which point, her taking either side wouldn’t make sense, given that she has shown no loyalty or attachment to either Po nor the Chameleon.

The movie artificially strengthens their bond by having Zhen start opening up about her backstory out of nowhere for no reason but they have done nothing to grow closer to each other.

Small tangent, her backstory is exactly what you’d expect it to be with no subversions or even emotional weight. Woe is me I was so small and hungry I had to steal to survive. Glossed over in about a minute.

The majority of the dialogue between Zhen and Po is spoken exposition — explaining how powerful and badass the Chameleon is, explaining how ‘we have to go here to do that’ and ‘this place was cool until the Chameleon did such and such’, and the rest of their time together is spent engaging in filler chase sequences and fight scenes.

The Chameleon

Where do I even start…

This is where it becomes apparent that the movie relies heavily on telling rather than showing —

She is the weakest villain by far, not only in universe but as a written character; which is particularly disheartening because I genuinely adore her character design and feel as though a shapeshifting character has great potential.

The movie artificially inflates her power by insisting through exposition that this is the most capable antagonist thus far (lie).

The audience is TOLD by Zhen and various restaurant patrons that the Chameleon is a powerful shapeshifting sorceress and that she 'dominates the city' whilst the film does nothing to showcase this.

'Dominating the city' meaning letting her henchpeople run amock and bully the civilians just like Lord Shen's wolves in KFP2... uninspired.

I just realised they didn't even give her a NAME what the FUCK is going on

She describes HERSELF as ruthless, clever and unsentimental when comparing Zhen to herself.

She says HERSELF that she’s “Stronger than every opponent you’ve ever faced.”

Let’s see what vile reprehensible things she’s done, shall we?

Gently push someone down some stairs

Her first appearance is through Zhen’s exposition, as opposed to the dramatic and memorable entrances of the previous villains. Her motives or character aren’t established until the final third of the film. She doesn’t even FIGHT anybody until the final third of the film; and even then, her fight sequences are uninspired and she never really poses a real threat. (She goes down in two hits.)

That being said, WE CAN STILL SAVE HER GUYS WE CAN STILL GET HER OUTTA THERE I'M COMING FOR YOU CHAMELEON I'M GONNA DRAFT YOU A PROPER BACKSTORY AND MOTIVE AND YOU'RE GONNA BE THE MOST THREATENING VILLAIN THUS FAR

There's a scene after the climax of the film where all the kung fu masters and previous villains from the spirit realm bow to Po. I'm not going to provide my thoughts on this because I fear I may burst a blood vessel. Good day!

Closing Statements

To put it simply, Kung Fu Panda 4 was my Megamind 2.

The film rejects its predecessors in every way. It really feels as though they brought in somebody with no prior knowledge of the franchise to direct the movie.

It's a film that relies heavily on telling rather than showing — banking on the previous three movies to carry it through the box office.

It's just really disheartening to see studio execs turn one of the best franchises into a safe sequel cash grab and regress every character's development.

Nevertheless. I do adore the chameleon's character design so I might do my own take on her character.

As far as I'm concerned, there is no fairy godmother, there is no tooth fairy, and there is no kung fu panda 4.

[ellstronaut]

Going back to this debate

I know Ellle is a multifaceted individual that much is obvious she’s not one dimensional she has many elements to her personality. Additionally, it’s important to remember that even on the spectrum of masculine and feminine, Ellie isn’t completely one or the other. She exists in some sort of grey area between them, embodying both masculine and feminine traits. She’s not defined by one end of the spectrum, but rather by the interplay of these two extremes.

Yet at times the characterisation of Ellie is laced with internalised misogyny. And highlights the way “masc presenting” lesbians are treated in real life tied down to the “man” in the relationship why is Ellie mostly written as the dominant one especially when coupled with fem reader why do we head canon her as a top when it’s literally canon that she’s a switch? Why is there an infinite amount of “ellie taking care of the reader on her period” scenarios outnumber “Reader taking care of Ellie on her period” Ellie written as tall towering over fem reader and not like she’s literally 5’5

The fact is that there’s a heteronormative slant to the way people write her. Like I said almost never written as a switch, but a top. To some extent been portrayed as tall and dominating, never small or vulnerable. And Santa Barbara Ellie is often sexualized even though she is deeply traumatized and emotionally tormented. The problem is that people are viewing her through male-centric lenses, reducing her to an object of desire rather than a fully fleshed out woman with a complex, nuanced personality which includes many dimensions, some of which may be considered feminine.

There is no specific way to be a “masc lesbian” a woman nor feminine and express your femininity. Nor should that separate her from her womanhood/femininity. in a way it’s her way of showing how feminine she is. maybe not stereotypically through outward appearances, but her general identity. she’s a woman who experiences the same struggles that women do, Obviously she doesn’t waver just on the lines of black and white, she’s all rounded. In between. Grey area. The point I’m trying to make is that she’s all and above, you can be both masc and fem. I would add that Ellie's femininity is often overlooked or even belittled by people who only focus on traits that appeal to them. Not her emotional intelligence, her caring nature, her resilience, her dedication to her loved ones. Fuck she’s also a soft heart and a tender soul. These aspects of her are just as important to her character, she is a whole person ffs, exceptionally fleshed out

So fuck

“the hot wife and her hot boyfriend”

Why not

“The hot wife and her hot wife”

“She’s so boyfriend

Uh

“She’s so girlfriend”

Santa Barbara/Seattle is literally at her most vulnerable, disheveled state that girl is literally plagued with trauma, stuck in a limbo of “do I seek vengeance in the name of losing my family and absolutely everything or stay and suffer in silence (at who’s expense?? Hers) Yet we sexualise tf out of her, the most vulnerable pinnacle of existence—glorified and romanticised bc it’s “hot”

this is not a dig at anyone you’re free to write whatever tf you want bro it’s your platform but pls let’s not bs and pretend as of this doesn’t occur

[riding-the-sunset-bird]

I'm still riding a high from Baxter Week last month so I just wanted to gush about how much I adore Baxter and his DLC! No specific rhyme or reason, but it is a nice break from my usual dives into the code!

Also, I won't be saying anything negative about Cove nor Derek; I don't need nor want to do that. I'll be comparing them to Baxter, but only for contrast/showing the skillfully written differences between them (example: Cove does [x] and Baxter does [y] to account for multiple player preferences).

(might go without saying, but there will be spoilers for basically his entire DLC)

The Background

I actually had no interest in Baxter when my MC first met him in the game. He was fine, I was neutral, but what it came down to was that I was one of Those People who just wanted time with Cove and excluded others (if it's not obvious, I always got a cold Cove unless I used the Cove Creator).

That all changed, funnily enough, during the Cove Wedding DLC. On a whim, I agreed to let Baxter give my MC dance lessons and prodded him on his disappearance after Step 3. Getting a hint of Baxter's underlying problems piqued my interest and I'd had the Baxter DLC downloaded before I even hit the reception!

After the Cove Wedding DLC was over, I rolled back to a save right before Soiree and got to romancing.

Zero regrets.

The Setup

As a character, Baxter is so beautifully designed as both a contrast to Cove and someone to fill out the gaps that Cove and Derek leave. He also completes the "comfort level" of love interests that I had in my head, where the MC can be whatever they want but each guy seems to have a particular comfort level themselves (Cove being Nervous, Derek being more Relaxed, and Baxter being Direct).

When if comes to their actual engagement through the family, Baxter has only brief mentions of his parents, Cove's story is partly connected to his parents whilst still giving focus to one-on-one time, and Derek's family is front-and-center to his conflict. It's all about how much time a player wants to invest in the character versus the time they want to spend with others.

Likewise, Baxter's route features a relationship that ends and gets back together again, Cove's route is a relationship where he and the MC always live close to each other, and Derek's route is a long-distance relationship past Step 2 and before Step 4.

Baxter's undeniably a controversial character, I imagine due to possibly being based on the "playboy" type, which tends to be someone who flirts with anyone they find attractive whether the recipient likes it or not, won't take "no" for an answer, and lies to their dates that they're serious about them when they actually don't care for them at all.

The game cleverly subverts this right out of the gate when Baxter first meets Cove and the MC. Baxter does find the two attractive and initially flirts with the both of them (a great start to confirming that he's pan), but backs off and apologizes the moment he notices that Cove is uncomfortable. He adds as well that he wouldn't mind having a summer fling, but that it's not his core reason for wanting to get to know and spend time with them.

So already, the player is made aware that he's forward but considerate, takes Cove's discomfort more seriously than even the usual residents of Sunset Bird (who enjoy teasing him into embarrassment), and has non-serious flings with a priority on simply having fun connections over the course of his time with them.

He, like Cove, will only propose a relationship with the MC in Step 3 if the MC expresses interest first (the only difference being that the MC expresses the interest in Cove to "the game" while talking to Lee, whereas the MC expresses interest in Baxter by talking to Baxter directly).

This gives the MC a powerful opportunity, as Baxter is a character that the player has the most options in interacting with. He begins as a total stranger, similar to Cove, and the player can decide whether he stays that way or becomes more than that. Even down to the optional moments he appears in, the MC only has to interact with him in Hang and Late Shift, both of which lets them avoid further interaction by going home early and rejecting his invitation to his house/telling him not to come to their workplace respectively. The only mandatory instances of seeing him are the Step 3 intro, a brief goodbye in the ending, Hang, and the very beginning of Late Shift.

Whether it be strangers, friends, friends that fell in love after they met again, a friendship or fling that started well and ended horribly, a fling that turned into genuine feelings in the end, or two people that love each other all the way through, Baxter's route can do it all. In Step 4 as well, the MC can choose to be calm, professional, upset, or angry about seeing Baxter again, which all lead to different conversations/narration with him, and the end of Step 3 makes him the only love interest where there can be a technical "break up."

This is also a rare occasion where the MC, due to Cove not being a fan of Baxter, can form a relationship outside of their normal range. Baxter doesn't live in Sunset Bird and isn't connected to anyone the MC knows - neither Cove's nor the MC's friends and family - at the time of meeting him, fitting the narrative of the MC starting to look at things beyond their little neighborhood and even the people they're close with. It can be further emphasized in Soiree where the MC starts to gain a bit of independence and can end up dancing with a younger Baxter, foreshadowing that little peek into the wider world from a mysterious stranger who's there and then gone.

Something else that's fascinating is that Baxter, due to him leaving at the end of Step 3 and meeting the MC again during Step 4, is the only love interest where players see virtually all of the MC's interactions with him. It does leave out the gaps that Cove and Derek have that can be neatly filled with headcanons, but that ultimately depends on what the player prefers. Point being is that the MC's experiences are the player's experiences when it comes to Baxter: whatever time they spend with him, the player also spends with him.

So already, the setup for Baxter and his route are really strong for me, but the content of his DLC isn't limited to just him.

The Content

Baxter's DLC introduces a total of two new characters and extra content for Terry and Miranda, both of which were absolutely welcomed by me. I was hyper-focused on Cove in the base game, but the Baxter DLC made me appreciate the other characters more.

Even the moms, who already got plenty of screen time, are shown to be rather nosy and gossip-y in Sightseeing (something not showcased overly until then), which ends up being the perfect encouragement towards the MC learning more about Baxter. Then, if the MC meets the requirements and agrees to Baxter's fling, Noelani in particular is stunned into silence. If the MC was upset with Baxter over what happened, then both moms will show a rare coldness to him as well.

These are all things one would miss out on with other interests, due to how the whirlwind relationship and drama in Baxter's route are designed.

Then there's Terry, who becomes Baxter's friend more directly in the DLC whether Baxter is convinced of that or not, and is given more to do in every best way. Baxter's version of Hang allows for more focus on Terry's relationship with Miranda, partly with more hints towards his crush on her but also seeing Terry interact with someone who's "like him." Cove and Miranda are described as "shy" and the MC can be equally as much, allowing for new facets of Terry's character to come through by Baxter's being there.

Even after Baxter goes no contact and Step 4 makes the shift to focus on his relationship with the MC, Terry's friendship with him isn't forgotten: Baxter laments that Terry isn't calling him by his affectionate nickname for him anymore.

Terry getting attention from being Baxter's friend doesn't exclude Miranda from getting any either; far from it. If anything, she gets more than Terry, both with an expansion on her family in the form of her brother (and eventual brother-in-law) plus a moment dedicated to giving her a birthday party. As if that weren't enough, she gets a mini-plot in Step 4 concerning her relationship with Terry and her role in his life.

Seeing more of Terry and Miranda was in every way a case of "thing I didn't know I needed until I had it." Maybe it was the Cove tunnel vision that persisted for so long, but when I first got to re-experience Terry and Miranda in Baxter's version of Hang, it was great and I was so happy any time they were on-screen.

They aren't given extra time just for the sake of it either; they're expertly woven into the overarching story of Step 3 and the themes of Step 4.

Step 3 centers on adulthood with the MC and their friends growing up and having to face the fear of growing apart. The step already does a good job at keeping that a focus, but Planning expands on it in a way that feels almost criminal not to have in the base game. The already high stakes feel even higher when put up against the last birthday party they'll be able to plan before everyone goes off on their own.

Then, Step 4 balances Terry putting forth so much effort for Miranda with her worrying that she's not doing enough for him. She doesn't need to worry, obviously (Terry loves her for every reason), but with Step 4 focusing so much on relationships, self-reflection, and trying to make up for past mistakes (both real and perceived), it's just a cherry on top of an already fantastic story.

Meanwhile, Jude and Scott, despite only appearing for Step 4, are easily some of my favorite characters in the game. They're adorable, they can be sweet with not just Miranda but the MC too (the player has the option for the MC to see them like honorary family/big brothers), and the way the groom's cake ultimately ties into helping bring Baxter and the MC closer again while serving as a callback to Planning is perfection. One may think little of Miranda's initial mention of them (probably assuming that it's just a little bit of character introduction to show that she has family who has things going on), but it all comes together in the end.

The DLC additionally has a potential bonus (depending on player preference) in that it is benefited by most other DLCs. The other DLCs are not required to enjoy it, but they add that little bit of extra flavor.

The Step 2 DLC adds Birthday and Soiree. Birthday is Miranda's birthday party when she's fourteen and before she officially becomes the MC's friend, meaning you get the development of seeing the difference in the MC's and Cove's investment in her party then versus now, as well as how her taste in parties has grown. Soiree allows the MC to possibly meet Baxter earlier than Step 3 and add to the "fate"/"destiny" angle if the player so desires.

The Step 3 DLC obviously allows for more Baxter in general with Boating and Late Shift, the former showing a much needed reaction from Lee if the MC is dating him at the time. It's also a good "starter DLC" for people who aren't sure about Baxter, allowing them to choose to interact with him if they want to get to know him more (as I mentioned before).

Derek's DLC lets the player meet Baxter in a different way during Soiree, something that can be brought back up with Derek in Step 3 and then again in Step 4 (to which he'll joke about the MC's meetings with Baxter in five year increments).

Even Cove's Wedding DLC can have advantage, bringing a soft conclusion to Baxter's story for those who don't want to play Baxter's Step 4 but still care for him, and/or something more dramatic following how he ends off Step 3 with the MC.

So one doesn't just get Baxter content; there's quality content from others and it can be further added to with other DLCs.

Not that the Baxter content isn't worth it all by itself either because I adore this man.

The Man

I'm a simple woman. Give me an intelligent man with simultaneously zero braincells and I am in.

I don't even like "playboy" type characters normally, but Baxter is actually charming and tries to make things clear to the MC from the beginning. He falters during the Step 3 ending but not because he was trying to keep it a secret; he genuinely didn't expect the MC to try to press him and deemed himself unworthy of their company.

I'd seen more than enough of rich boy plots where the rich boy is a perfect do-no-wrong type and it's everyone else's problem that they don't like him. Baxter, however, is a flawed character who not everyone is going to like (which is absolutely 100% fine and valid) and him being rich is not just something that influenced his self-esteem but also what he ultimately gives up despite having relied on that financial safety net for his whole life, showing a deeper sense of awareness as he got older.

I don't normally like fate/destiny stories either, as they often feel as though they're taking agency from one or both characters involved (in terms of forcing them to love/be in a relationship with each other), but Baxter's route isn't like that. It's the player's choice to have that dance in Soiree (which they can just as easily turn down), their choice to form a closer relationship with Baxter outside of the disinterested Cove, and their choice to choose Baxter's Step 4 when they have already one guaranteed "safe" option in Cove's Step 4 and a potential other "safe" choice in Derek's Step 4 if they have Derek's DLC.

The player is the fate, which coincidentally went into my first playthrough, as my MC was initially designed for Cove yet ended up being perfect for Baxter.

Baxter is so absolutely delightful and absolutely stupid at the same time. From his openness to be questioned by the MC followed by this assumption that he's like a stranger to them (meanwhile the MC and Cove being best friends/crushes right out of the gate if the player so chooses), to him talking about the play he and the MC go to while not seeing the obvious parallel to his own issues, to openly admitting that he doesn't want to leave the MC while making the decision himself to go no contact.

He unconvincingly uses the cupcakes as an excuse to not get more intimate with MC, he wants so badly to spend time with the MC that he's willing to risk letting them see him in his useless morning state (and is surprised when it goes wrong, at least in his mind), and tries to convince himself to not stay attached to the MC during Step 4 despite being unable to help constantly reminiscing on their time together.

At his core, he's a funny, charismatic sweetheart who wants to be loved, to be touched, to have someone in his life (even just a friend) that he can make happy, but his upbringing and deep-seeded insecurities make him cynical to the idea of being in a genuine relationship with someone. This causes him to constantly sabotage himself before he can make any progress. It's why he can prefer flings: he can use his money to make a passionate, pleasant time with his temporary partner, but not so long that he feels they'll find something disappointing in him.

Low-risk, high-reward.

This, of course, ultimately backfires by the end of Step 3, and it's perfectly structured to set him up for Step 4. The brilliant foreshadowing of him being skilled with planning events in a pinch, to Jude and Scott's long-distance relationship and Baxter claiming that they won't stay together, to Baxter insisting that it's unlikely for he and the MC to meet again (made funnier if they'd already met again before, if the MC saw him in Soiree), then Step 4 hitting where he's not only a wedding planner planning Jude and Scott's wedding, but accidentally/unconsciously putting himself into situations where he's "stuck" with the MC.

That starting instant where Baxter reacts to the MC in the restaurant, initially shocked and then having to bring himself back into a professional persona, apologizing for his immature self but sticking to only focusing on the wedding?

Not just a wonderfully-written hint to the player as to what they're in for, but very much a "I'm not stuck in here with you, you're stuck in here with me," situation. It's all about making Baxter as uncomfortable as possible so he can reflect, flying in the face of his thought that he could control everything and project what he thought about himself onto others. He can give advice to other people, but refuses to give the same to himself because he held himself to an impossible standard.

Once he finally figures that out, he's feels extremely guilty and apologetic towards the MC and everyone else. Him unloading all of his emotional baggage and work to do better is so satisfying after seeing it affect him in key moments like Drinks, Planning, the Step 3 ending, and finally Step 4. Underneath the facade he (weakly) attempts to put up for himself is a teasing gentleman who hates mornings, wants to see everyone around him be happy, and feels blessed just to simply have a relationship with the MC (real or temporary).

This isn't even talking about Baxter's perspective from a meta standpoint, adding layers on top of what's already there in the canon and adding even further when considering Baxter's appearance in the sidequel Our Life: Now & Forever.

The MC can learn in Sightseeing that Baxter had a crush on a kid who was doing ballet lessons while he did ballroom. Those who know anything about Now & Forever know that this is kid is Qiu, who's one of the two potential love interests there. Naturally, Baxter wouldn't have had a chance with them, as the only person Qiu can possibly fall for is the Now & Forever MC.

Baxter confesses in Step 4 that he's naturally drawn to the people who are "wanted by everyone else," which translates to Qiu (who is widely popular during Now & Forever's Step 1) and the MC (who is liked by most characters in the game and automatically crushed on by at least Derek). In the Cove Wedding DLC specifically, he adds that he is simply someone whereas Cove is the one.

Because here's the thing: in the eyes of the base game, he's not wrong. Cove is the game's focus, taking an active role in every step and being the first that the MC meets out of the potential love interests. He's the only love interest in the base game and his Step 4 is not just free, but the default.

Meanwhile, Baxter is just someone. He's a person who shows up in Sunset Bird for a single step - only showing up thrice - and then is entirely gone without his own Step 4. His DLC costs more than any of Cove's Step DLCs and the player already knows Cove, already has spent two steps with him, thus has far less incentive to get Baxter's DLC over Cove's own Step DLCs.

Then, despite Baxter appearing once in Cove's Step 2 DLC and twice in Cove's Step 3 DLC, most players won't experience the former (either due to focusing on Cove or not wanting to dance) and Baxter can be largely excluded in the latter if he happened to leave a bad first impression on the player.

And let's take it a step further. While Derek, like Baxter, doesn't have a Wedding DLC like Cove does, Derek can get into a marriage pact with the MC as early as Step 2, he can be dating the MC throughout nearly all of his Step 4, and the MC can agree to them moving in together before the ending.

Baxter has none of that. His DLC's story is steeped in drama and the earliest the MC can properly get together with him is after the wedding. There's no chance at a proposal (such as what can happen with Cove's Step 4, where they MC can date and then propose within an equally short timespan), no opportunity to move in with him, nothing.

He takes time, work, and actual money to get into a relationship with, whether platonic or romantic. It's a level of investment that not everyone would be willing to put in for someone, especially when only one Step 4 can be chosen out of the whole bunch.

Baxter's insecurities come from a very real place. His parents treated him like a child, all while expecting him to behave like someone their age, and they deliberately picked a town for him to go to that was near the ocean he feared (where it was unlikely for there to be people his age around) to keep him in check. In his mind, he's "broken" and incapable of being with anyone long-term.

Furthering that, there's a joke he makes about "being too late" if the MC and Cove are in a relationship by the time he appears, back when he wouldn't have considered himself a worthy partner anyway (also a bit of out-of-universe humor over how the MC couldn't get together with him whether they wanted to or not, due to being unable to break up with Cove). Despite that, he's pleased as punch to see the MC dating/married to Cove and hopes the best for them regardless of his potential attraction.

Baxter puts forth so much effort to try and make the MC's last summer in Sunset Bird memorable with the thought that he won't be seeing them ever again. The potential relationship he can have with them is the most stable he's ever had and it scares him when they make him feel wanted and important. All the while, he's convinced that the MC's friends and family are "better" than him and he'll only bore the MC if he remains in contact with them.

With his DLC, the MC - the player - get to prove him wrong: an MC who is liked by everyone and loved by up to three different interests, but end up choosing him in the end. Cove and Derek are "easy" and the MC has undoubtedly spent more time with them in comparison to Baxter - who would feel that either guy could make the MC happier than he could - but they have the chance to show that he is the one that makes them happy.

Baxter is so absolutely amazed to be in a relationship with the MC that he willingly takes in all the shocked reactions and potential backlash from everyone else due to his five years of going no contact. He's regretful when he finds himself back in old habits and eager not just to message the MC multiple times per day after they return home, but also to take time off to go visit them after his Step 4 is over.

I think that makes for an incredibly special experience: to have someone who comes last out of the three possibilities, doubts his true potential, and eventually realizes how misguided he is. It's not about who got the most time with the MC, or who got "dibs" on meeting them first, or what can be accomplished the quickest in their time with them.

It's about the MC forming a bond with someone, picking him despite the difficulties/limitations because they love him that much, the work he's willing to put into it in return, and finally the happiness that comes out of it.

For those reasons and even more, the Baxter DLC is by far my favorite.

[lovemyromance]

SJM: I thought it was obvious??

AKA - No analysis needed. The clues are there. Things are already happening.

Please keep your 80 page PowerPoints and highlighted words from your “8 books of canon” (none of which are actually from ACOTAR, btw) to yourself.

“I thought it was obvious” = no deep dives needed. No extrapolation or analysis necessary. The words are already on the page. You don’t have to work harder than SJM to come up with your own theories (*cough* see HOFAS crazy hype theories vs actual book)

“I thought it was obvious”

The ONLY couple currently mutually attracted to each other is Elriel. They have had moments since ACOMF. ACOSF did not end them, it gave them the setup for the next book. They are set up for the greatest tortured forbidden romance of the series, how can you dispute that? Why would you WANT to dispute that love story? I don’t want ACOSF 2.0 which was all physical and no substance. I want an angsty, slow forbidden romance. I want to fall in love when the characters fall in love. Elriel will give us that.

“I thought it was obvious”

The other ships do NOT exist on the page at the moment. Elucien, I will give credit to because they are still mates so that COULD happen still. But right now, where ACOSF ended, they had barely even seen each other in a year. The only romantic coded interactions have been between Azriel & Elain thus far.

“I thought it was obvious”

Elucien & Gw*riel have not shared any romantic moments. There is no romance between them at this current time in the series. I am not talking about “what could happen” or “what could Sarah be setting up” because she said it was obvious. That means it’s there already. There’s no reason to hypothesize and theorize about ships that don’t currently exist in the book. Because - and say it with me-

“I thought it was obvious”

What is obvious about elucien? Other than the fact that they are mates. That’s it. That’s all they have. Not even a conversation on the page. Not even a shared shy glance or brush of their fingers. It’s the equivalent of an arranged marriage neither of them seems to want. Analyzing 20 sentences about flowers and sunlight, going out of your way to prove feyre is an “unreliable” narrator when she questions the bond (but Cassian, fashion police of Velaris, is a very very reliable narrator)-Why? Is any of that obvious to the casual reader? No.

“I thought it was obvious”

I’m not even going to spend many words talking about Gw*nriel, as I don’t see it as anything more than a crackship. They have like 4 platonic interactions. Friendly. Banter, sure. But not all banter is a clue that people are predestined soulmates. Most people who read their interactions are not going to overanalyze spark and glow and shadow behavior. They shouldn’t have to because - again - none of that is obvious.

“I thought it was obvious”

Shy glances and subtle scenes in the background wasn’t enough for those who claim to be reading experts. So SJM released a bonus chapter where in clear black and white text, you see both Azriel and Elain desperate for each other. This man is willing to BEG on his knees for a taste of her/ the end. Why would you even want him with anyone else after that?

“I thought it was obvious”

All these characters I’ve mentioned have been supporting characters this entire series. Nothing concerning them is going to happen in someone else’s book-but the seeds have been sewn. Any scene with Elain could have been written with Lucien or her sisters instead of Azriel - but it wasn’t.

Ex: when majda says, “if anyone can figure out what’s wrong, it’s a mate”

Lucien is THERE. Feyre is THERE. Nesta is THERE. But who figures it out - not her mate, nor her sisters - Azriel.

Lucien could’ve shown her the garden, feyre could’ve sat with her and listened to Elain’s garden plans till 3am - but no - it was Azriel.

And this man is the only one in the NC I’m convinced that has an actual job and responsibilities. So he is choosing to spend what little free time he has with ELAIN. What’s not clicking, folks?

“I thought it was obvious”

Sarah-we love her-but she is Queen of cliches. Her writing is not some insane thriller level that has you gasping every page turn. She likes threes, she likes happy endings, she likes her male LIs desperate for their female counterparts. The answer to Amarantha’s riddle was LOVE. CC had “through love all is possible”.

You really think she wrote the line “hoped love would trump even a mating bond” and it meant nothing?

SJM doesn’t do anything easy. But she said it was obvious- because it IS.