#that doesn't even make sense for a second in command to do. it would completely undermine his reputability

[willow-jade]

Gonna be honest, it annoys me (in a casual, not-actually-annoyed, 'he does not say that' way) a tad bit when people write Kaeya INSISTING and verbally trying to convince people that he totally slacks off all the time; every time I can remember, when Paimon accuses him of doing as much, he gives a reassurance about how he's gotten all his work done, is doing something for Jean, is actually on business, wouldn't be here if he wasn't on top of work, delegated to xyz, etc.

He doesn't respond to those allegations by confirming them - at least not to someone who he wants to think highly of him. Maybe it's different when he's trying to bait criminals (we wouldn't know), but to the Traveler, to his coworkers, and very likely foreigners he'd be meeting professionally + common citizens, he denies it. Not aggressively or insistently, but he also doesn't... declare that he neglects his job??

If he ever has in front of us, it was an outlier. The closest I can think of, though, is the voiceline where he calls it comparatively unfun.

[babsisbakery]

Long awaited entry

Leila Ouahabi x reader Part 1

Warning: pure smut (gagging and eating out, the rest will be in part 2)

Gif pun intended

Leila is driving you crazy, her hand being too close to your core all night. Inching closer to where you desperately needed her. Her other hand disappears under your shirt. Touching your delicate skin. Her touch is sending goosebumps all over your body. 

You want her, no you need her. She has been driving you nuts all night. Whispering dirty things into your ear. How much she wanted to touch your pretty pussy and destroy it for anyone else. Your mind is foggy, all you could think about was leila fucking you brainless. Her hand itches higher, reaching its destination. Playing slightly with your boobs. Grabbing and knitting them. Your mouth hangs open as you let her do whatever she desires with you. It felt so good to have her touch you. She begins to draw circles on your nipples. After all she was teasing you. But you needed her to truly fuck you. To give you more. To ravish you as she always did. You are her good girl so you know you had to be a bit more patient and you'd get what you wished. Sensing your eagerness she removes your shirt. Both her hands are playing with your nipples. She is giving you her undivided attention. Peppering kisses along your neck, which started of softly but became the cause of your future hickeys. Everyone would know you were hers and hers alone. Licking your neck and collarbone she makes a stop at your ear. “Mi amor are you gonna behave tonight?” “Yes mommy, i will behave just please touch me.” “Oh my desperate baby, where do you want me to touch you? Hmm” your brain isn't working properly, her breath on your neck while she bit into your earlobe and continues to twist and circle your sensitive hard nipples. “Pleasee i need you”. “Mi vida use your words you are a big girl after all” she whispers into your ear. She knows what you want but where would be the fun if she isn’t torturing you to tell her what you needed her to do. “Mommy please, I'm so wet, please eat me out” “See that wasn't that hard, such a good girl for your mommy.”

“Let’s see if you’re really as wet as you’re saying babygirl” one of her hands leaves their place and travels slowly down to your pants. When her hand reaches your zipper she waits for permission, even if she senses your need she still wants to make sure you were 100 percent on board. You simply nod as you aren't able to answer verbally. She is simply too close to your aching cunt. Her hand slips into your trousers, feeling a big damp spot on your underwear. Lightly pressing against your clit. You let out a quiet moan. That only spurs her on more. “You didn't lie, so wet. Is this all for me?”  “All for you mommy, only for you.” a smirk forms on your girlfriend's face, that's exactly what she wanted to hear.. ”Mi amor lay down” she says in a commanding tone, you knew not to disobey or you’d get punished. You could be bratty but you are far too horny to get edged more often than you desired. The movie playing in the background long forgotten as you lay down. Your girlfriend takes off your pants and bra, her own shirt is tossing across the bedroom. 

She stops her actions to admire your body, positioning herself on top of you. Kissing you with such passion and lust. Your brain starts to get nice and fuzzy. It would be complete mush by the end of your nightly activities. Leila’s hand is yet again at your tits. This woman loves your boobs, it was noticeable every day. Her thumb and index finger squishing your nipple, drawing moans out of you. She doesn't waste a second to glide her tongue into your mouth, exploring every inch inside. As she pulls away a string of saliva is still connecting you. You chase her mouth but without success as she has already moved on to your neck. Sucking harshly to hear your pretty noises. She doesn't need to undergo a scooby doo mystery search party to find your pulse point, knowing your body like the back of her hand. First she licks over it, light suction which progresses more and more. Finally she brings her teeth into the game. Running over your skin, biting into you. But not enough to draw blood only to increase your pleasure. Your wetness is increasing rapidly to the point that your panties are ruined. They begin to cover your bare thighs. Her tongue soothes the sensitive spot as she finishes with her treatment on your pulse point. “More, please more” “Be patient baby, you will get more in a few moments.” With that you shut your eyes, focusing on Leila’s actions.

Moving over your collarbone she proceeds to your cleavage. She takes her time to give both your breasts equal attention. Her mouth waters at your erect nipples, blowing cold air onto them. Your hands make fast motion to reach her hair, miserably trying to pull her into you, to feel her mouth devour you. Eventually she starts to nip at your nipples, a slight tug with her teeth. Directly after she soothes it by licking over it but her movements become harsher. “ Oh Leila, so good, don't stop.” As she hears her name she stops. “What did you just call me?” Shit. “Mommy, I'm sorry. Please forgive me mommy.” Of course she knows it wasn't on purpose but she still feels the need to punish you. But the pleading look in your eyes stops her. The punishment had to wait til later, she kinda deserved it by how her hand was teasing you all night. So she let it go for now. “It’s alright amor but next time I won't be so forgiving.” Stroking your cheek softly, easing your nerves. Leaning your head into her palm you don't sense Leila’s further movement. Suddenly her lips wrap around one of them and she sucks, the tip of her tongue continuing its ministration. You arch your back, you’ve never felt such immense pleasure during sex, only with Leila. You whimper a faint “Mommy pleaseeee” So incredibly needy, as if it was December all over again after NNN, which your girlfriend insisted on participating in. A whole month without sex felt like a violation against human rights.

She ignores your plea, providing the same treatment to your other nipple. Her right hand itching down. Running her fingers over your lingerie. It’s profusely wetter by now. Pure desire is evident. Friction alone isn’t enough, her fingers only going up and down over your pussy lips. Trying to get more, you buckle your hips. Before you even feel the slightest sense of satisfaction, her hands are holding you down. Her expertise movements on your breasts cease. “Nuh uh baby, if you try this again… You would leave me no other choice than to restrict you. And you don't want that right?” “No mommy, I just really need you.” The answer satisfies her enough as she gives your tit one final harsh lick. Pressing kisses along your stomach.

Reaching your covered pussy she places a kiss on it. She pulls your underwear with her teeth down. This particular action looks so damn attractive, god your craving for her only grows each second. Finally you’re naked. As Leila crawls slowly to your aching cunt, her eyes focus you. As if a predator hunting its prey. Zeroing in on your dripping pussy she spreads your thighs and holds them apart. Leila licks her lips after all she is about to have a full course meal and there will be no leftovers. Almost cautious, she takes her first lick. Moaning by the taste of you. An irresistible flavor. She dives in, not able to hold off much longer.  Letting her tongue collect some of your delicious nectar. Taking long stripes from your unstretched hole to your clit, running through your folds. She decides it's time to focus on the long awaited entry. Her tongue plays with your entrance, circling it but not yet entering. The tip of her tongue makes the first step. Prodding into you carefully. There isn't much resistance. Starting to push in more she launches into eating you out. Now her whole tongue is inside of you, it's heavenly. Your walls fit perfectly around her curled tongue. Her movement is precise, she knows exactly where to position her licks for you to feel the most pleasure. Picking up the pace she moves in and out faster, trying to reach as deep as she can. She puts her hands on your ass, squeezing it and pulling it towards her face. By doing this her tongue somehow is even deeper in your cunt. From our mouth come unholy moans. Back arched profusely. You throw your head back as her thumb works on your clit while she still devours you. Leila even makes slurping noises due to your immense wetness, trying to have it all.

Tongue moving in and out in calculated moves, the curl is such a divine addition. Muttering incoherent words. Hands holding onto your girlfriend’s hair. Her curls continue on as she presses harder against your bud. Oh how she could simply eat you out forever. As you near your release she halts. Your thighs are quivering minimally but enough for Leila to notice. Left with no stimulation you grumble and whimper. “Mommy why did you stop? I was so close.” “I know you were close, that's why I stopped, baby, now don't complain or you won't come at all tonight.”

Suddenly her index finger enters you. Simultaneously, kitten licks your pulsing clit. Her maneuvers mirror her eating ice cream. You melt, like the ice cream, under her touch. A second finger makes its way inside you. Of course there is no need for lube, even the sheets are covered in your slick. 

As she blissfully continues to stretch you out she gently bites your clit, giving it a little tug. You don’t stop moaning. The tug makes your head spin. Both of her fingers are now completely engulfed by your walls. She feels your walls throbbing for more. “Oh god, mommy.” you repeat this phrase in different variations until Leila decides enough is enough. Can't you be quiet for a second as she enjoyed your juices? Normally she would get spurred on by your whines but today she just wanted to eat you out peacefully, training was too exhausting with her teammates shouting left and right. To stop your noises she collects some of your slick with her unoccupied hand, shoving it into your mouth gagging you. “Suck them, can you taste yourself? So good right mi amor.” You can only nod your head. But that doesnt satisfy your girlfriend. “I asked you a question, answer me.” You try your best to answer her with her fingers shoved deep into your mouth “Es mowwy, zo good.” Leila deciphers your words. “Such a good girl for me.” you give her a bashful smile and with that she goes back to pay attention to your clit. Sucking and tugging on it as if the world would end soon. 

Her fingers shove in deeper in both holes. Salvia runs down your chin and cheeks, you look like a godforsaken mess but pretty in her eyes because only she can achieve that. Your gags spur her even more on. The defender curls her fingers hitting your g-spot phenomenally. All of a sudden she builds up an inhuman pace, going in and out. Hand entirely covered by your juices. The suction on your clit also gets more ferocious. Your orgasm approaches quickly. “I’m about to cum, can I please cum?” you ask in despair, barely audible thanks to her fingers. She shakes her head, not stopping or slowing down her actions. Instead she groans into you, sending vibrations to your throbbing clit. This alone almost makes you come undone but you try to focus until she gives you permission. Leila is definitely smirking devilishly on the inside. Taking her fingers out of your mouth, she drags your lower lip downwards with her thumb. She may not want to hear your complaints but she for sure isn't missing out on you moaning her name while you cum. “I'm about to cum, please let me cum.” A hum from Leila is sufficient. With a few final strokes and rough licks you fall off the edge. Legs trembling, eyes rolling to the back of your skull and her name falling off your lips like a mantra. The neighbors will surely complain tomorrow about the noise but that's a problem for the future.

Leila keeps her pace, prolonging your orgasm as much as she can. Riding it out till you feel overstimulated and too sensitive. In desperation you try to close your legs but your girlfriend has other plans. Pulling out she holds your thighs, pushing them apart. Moreover she goes down on you. “Don't worry baby, let me clean up some of the mess you made. God it's everywhere.” she chuckles, head disappearing between your legs again and she got to work.

While you come down from your high, Leila does a wonderful job in cleaning you up. She is very careful with her licks, which make you horny again. As she finishes her work, she rises from bed and goes over to your shared dresser. You can't really get a look at what she's doing. Leila seemingly gets something out of it. When she turns around a massive smirk is plastered on her face. In her right hand she holds a double sided strap, she walks back to you. Her left hand hides behind her back. “Are you ready for round two gorgeous?” she asks with an unconvincing innocent smile.

to be continued....

[techwrecker]

The Bad Batch Off-Duty Headcanons

✧Hunter

His favorite off-duty activity is fishing off the pier. Due to his heightened senses, sometimes he just needs a quiet break with a little action.

Sometimes will bring Echo with him when he wants a little company. Usually they sit in a comfortable silence.

Conversation includes the occasional complaints about the goings-on of the Marauder. ("Wrecker left his used blacks on my bunk, again.")

Can be coerced into going to 79's but only if Wrecker offers to pay for the first round.

Self-Appointed DD (Except for that one weekend but we don't talk about that one weekend. EVER.)

✧Wrecker

Absolute Bumper Speeder junkie

Will beg and beg and BEG anybody he can to go with him once they're off.

He knows exactly how to wear each of the batcher's down. (But crosshair always manages to disappear before he can get to him)

He does calculations on the fly all day to calibrate the correct elements for the explosive reaction he needs, so bumper speeders is a way to just let it all go

Wrecker doesn't have a hard time having a good time. He's a pretty happy-go-lucky guy on on and off duty.

His favorite waitress at 79's has a specially mixed strong brew for him. Because he's so much bigger, the alcohol content is way high. (But he’s on unofficial friendly probation for a few weeks by the 79’s manager because of that one weekend.)

At the end of the night, he's usually doing karaoke with whatever poor sap of a clone he was able to rope into it.

Can still carry everybody back to the Marauder on his shoulders

When he's not pal-ing around, Wrecker can be found sweating at the Republic-sanctioned Workout Station.

✧Crosshair

He typically stays pretty close to the Marauder when he's off-duty.

A surprisingly big reader. Prefers history holos or historical fiction. (One time Echo caught him with a historical romance holo, but in his defense, "the summary had no indication it was romance!") ((He secretly enjoyed it.))

Even though he's off-duty, he still shines and cleans his rifle every day. Can't have it crukking out on him mid-mission!

Depending on the planet they're on, he actually likes to go out with Wrecker and try the local cuisine and food stalls. Sometimes he'll try and convince Tech to go back to a planet just for a food he's craving. (Tech only obliges if Crosshair promises to clean his gear, too. Maker knows he is the least tidy out of all of them.)

79’s isn’t really his scene unless the whole batch is together & even still, he tries to stick to the outskirts to avoid unsavory company.

There’s a few buddies in the 501st that he’ll talk to occasionally because they share an affinity for artillery and sharp shooting (Echo introduced them)

Has to intervene when Wrecker gets too crazy (don’t worry, no fighting… except that one weekend…) and reassure his large friend that “yes, wrecker, everybody is your friend... whatever helps you sleep at night…”

✧Tech

Tech is never really “off-duty”. His projects and experiments are his hobby. Besides, if he wasn’t fixing the Marauder from the most recent mission on the off days, when would the crew find time to do it next?

But if the Marauder is (surprisingly) in complete “working” condition, he focuses more on his hand held technological upgrades by himself or weaponry experiments with Wrecker.

He and Wrecker were commanded by Hunter to yell an obligatory “CLEAR!” whenever they do a new explosion text (because of that one one weekend)

Spends his extra extra free time at the deep used markets on the lower levels of Coruscant to scrounge and barter for parts he needs for his projects.

"I hardly think a second rate, third generation circuitry coupling is worth fifteen credits. I could get better parts from the dumpster outside Dex's during All-Species Week."

Tech will typically just nurse a sweet drink at 79's because "why drink something that does not taste good? It would have little value beyond the mind altering effects."

✧Echo

Always visiting and making plans with his 501st buddies

79's is the place to be when Echo is around. He becomes the life of the party with his old command. (Everybody blames him for that one weekend we don't speak of...)

Prefers to get as drunk as fast as possible

Happens rarely, but Echo gets the WORST hangover and regrets his entire life. Not fun to be around when that happens. "WRECKER! I said. Shut. Your. Mouth." (but he goes out to buy him Mantell Mix as an apology.)

When they're not available, sometimes he will help Tech out with his mad scientist projects, but usually he gets worn out from Tech Talk after a couple hours.

Likes to go on whatever scenic route walks are available to him on the planet they happen to be on that week. (It helps reduce the feedback he gets constantly through his headpiece ever since Skako Minor.)

Will catalog new flora and fauna to the database for Tech on his walks.

Has definitely made a few furry little friends & always brings treats with him to share

Once he finds a great view, he likes to meditate for a few minutes and really soak it all in. It helps keep him focused & calm. (Especially since life with the Batch isn't exactly serene...)

When fishing with Hunter, he likes to create new lures for Hunter to see what the biggest fish he can get (Most impressive catch so far was 42lb/19kg at 10ft/3m) (And yes, of course, he scanned the aquatic creature and saved the records for Tech.)

His datapad background is either of Hunter holding up the latest, most impressive catch OR its of the most breath-taking scenery in the galaxy taken by himself.

[hellisharchive]

・﹒・ fish out of water

Summary: Vox was getting fed up with how Val keeps ignoring him for Angel Dust and needs an outlet to vent his frustrations on. Luckily, his assistant can help him with that

Warnings: 18+, first time blow-job, dub-con

Notes: Vox's assistant's name is Lee

“GOD FUCKING DAMNIT” Vox threw his mug of freshly brewed coffee on a monitor, completely breaking it, causing hot liquid and sharp glass to spill everywhere in his office. He watched as Valentino was fucking Angel into oblivion again, that pimp knows Vox is watching. Was this some kind of game to him? A way to make Vox jealous? He didn't know and didn't care. All he knew is that he needed to fuck someone and now.

“Lee, come to the broadcasting ASAP” He hung up the phone and waited for his glorified pet to arrive. Breathing heavily, he pulled up a feed and found his fish traversing the halls with a nervous expression. He always was timid and shy, it makes them easier to control without excessive force and constant hypnosis. Vox tapped his foot on the floor as it took Lee one minute and ten seconds to arrive. The sinner knew not to make Vox wait. Swiveling around in his chair, he watched as he leaned back on the chair, screen resting on his hand as the large door opened up.

And there he was. His little errand boy. His little assistant to make all his schedules and appointments and shit he didn't want to deal with. Lee looked up nervously and adjusted his glasses as he walked across the very long and narrow walkway. One slip-up, and He was toast. He quickly made his way closer to Vox, gulping as the fish could sense that he wasn't in a good mood.

“What did you uh…need sir?” Lee asked in that nasally voice, his nervousness becoming even more apparent. Vox sighed from exasperation and pointed in front of him on the floor.

“Kneel” The television man watched as Lee's eyes went wide, very shocked at the command. Leaning forward, he watched and listened to the very confused man stumble over his words with a worried expression on his face.

“Wh-why do I have to kneel?” He gripped his clipboard as Vox stood up with a fuming face, easily towering over the former, now using the clipboard as a sort of shield. Without speaking, the Overlord grabbed ahold of his head and dragged him closer to the seat before shoving him to the ground. He wasn't hurt majorly, but his knees took a good brunt on the fall. Looking up with fear, he knew what his boss wanted, and that brought a smile to Vox's face.

“I want you to suck my dick. Now do it or you're fired” Lee made a choking sound as he shook his head rapidly, not wanting to make his boss mad as he gently set his clipboard down on the floor. Vox watched as the man was still very hesitant about this, being far too slow for his liking as Lee carefully grabbed onto the top of his pants. Growling, the overlord grabbed his hands, which made him yelp, and forced him to quickly undo his belt and zipper. The walking television screen shrugged off his pants and underwear with ease. His electric blue cock stood at full mast, hard and throbbing as he stared down at his assistant with an impatient face.

“What are you waiting for? I don't have all day” Lee inhaled as he shakily got closer to his boss, gripping Vox's thighs as he figured out what to do. He's a virgin, Vox knows this. Vox also knows that he's watched porn occasionally when he thinks he's alone and doesn't last. He knows how to suck a dick even if he's never done it personally. 

Vox watched as he gave a small lick on the tip, a kitten lick really, and then he gave another. The assistant gulped as he looked up the one who does his paychecks. Lee knew this was an abuse of power, but he would never admit that he had sexual fantasies with this man. But he wanted to stay working for Vox, however this scenario was not one he ever imagined. As he was starting to give another small lick- Vox pushed his head into his dick, causing his employee to choke on the length as his mouth was shoved around the member. 

“There ya go. Gonna have to train you but that's ok. Now go on, suck” Lee felt tears prick his eyes as he gripped onto lean thighs, trying to adjust for the size that now penetrated his mouth. Staring up at the screen, he thought about how this was kind of hot, being dominated by someone higher in power than him. Struggling to breath, he started to slowly bob his head back and forth, trying to recall how the women did it in Val's films. Slowly but surely- Lee was gaining a good rhythm, too focused on making sure he was pleasing his boss, he didn't see how Vox's face was slipping into one of sinful relaxation.

“Mmm fuck…” The Overlord breathed out, hand drifting to his employee's hair as he tugged on it a little, signaling Lee that he was doing a good job. Vox was starting to slowly enjoy this as his assistance got a little faster, but not fast enough. Gripping his hair, Vox pumped his head back and forth, shoving his face fully up to his pelvis and back. After a few pumps, the man let go as Lee understood that he wanted to be rougher, so he adjusted and started going faster. The fish felt his cock growing hard himself, pre-cum leaking onto his boxers as he continued to suck on his boss.

“Yeah that’s it you whore” Vox moaned as his back started to arch, he could feel himself getting closer and closer to release as pre-cum dripped down Lee’s throat. Hand never leaving the fluffy hair, he felt himself building up before a wave of electricity sparked from his body, electrified cum spurting into his assistant’s mouth as he rode his orgasm, closing his eyes in the process.

“FUCK” He yelled as he was coming down from his high, breathing slowing down as Lee pulled off of the cock, neon blue cum spilling all over his face as he looked up at Vox, breathing heavy with doe eyes. Vox opened his eyes and looked down at his pet, his pet now turned sexual fuck toy whenever Val wasn’t paying attention to him. That pimp has Angel Dust? Well- Vox has him. Leaning down, he gently grabbed the man’s chin and lifted it up, wiping off the excess cum as he looked down with a smirk.

“Something tells me you enjoy sucking on your boss’ dick” Vox taunted, causing Lee to shake his head in denial as he stumbled back, hands supporting him. His employer stood up and put back his underwear and pants back on. Sitting back down in his chair, he swiveled back to the wall of monitors as he pulled one down and opened up a schedule of his television shows. Lee just watched, not sure what to do.

“Get the fuck up and leave, I’ll call you tonight and do not be late” The fish said nothing as he gathered his bearings, cradling his clipboard as he shakily stood up and hurriedly existed the broadcast room.

[forsworned]

I NEED more Elias Walker content before I die😫😫💀

God Knows I Tried ft. Elias Walker

Synopsis: Your daddy issues are raging and your long-time 'victim' has been none other than your superior and captain, Elias Walker. After a failed attempt to capture and kill Rorke, you go to "comfort" him, but he seems to have other plans for you.

Author's Note: AND GUESS WHAT I WILL PROVIDE FOR YOU, I'M GLAD WE'RE REVIVING GHOSTS IN THE FORM OF DROOLING OVER DILFS BC LORD KNOWS I NEED SOME MORE MCDADDY CLUB LOVIN

Tags: NSFW, Daddy Issues, Age Gap, Power Dynamics, Reader has long hair???

Elias ruffles his fingers through his silver hair after he removes his distressed and worn mask, setting it down on his desk as he sharply inhales. He hadn't gotten to Rorke on time and that pissed him off, and rightfully so. The bastard had been getting away every damn time. His body is tense and he feels as though his anger is brimming from within, bubbling to the surface and he yearns to do something about it.

So when you come rapping on his door, ripping him away from his inner turmoil, and he hears the pleasant sound of your voice through the small crack asking, "Can I come in?" He is more than willing to oblige.

His body completely faces you now, beaconing you over, and taking in your figure in your all-black tactical uniform. It fits you like a second skin, but his intense gaze shifts to your smooth visage. The moonlight catches in your teeth when you greet him. "Can I speak to you for a moment, Sir?"

He raises a brow at you. "Somethin' on your mind, Sergeant?"

Truthfully, you had no idea why you came in. You just found yourself walking back to his office rather than your bunk. After today's failure, you want nothing more than to comfort him. You slowly step forward, just a few feet away from him. "Was just checkin' on you...?"

God, you were so stupid. Checking in? Come on...

A flash of amusement etches into his features, he tilts his head as he studies your expression. "Checkin' in?" He leans his palms against his wooden desk.

"Yeah, I mean--I know this is something very close to you..."

Oh. My. God. Would you shut the everliving fuck up!?

He sighs and turns to the night sky. The moon is full, and its luminance brings a sense of calm to him. He chuckles at your obvious statement, but he doesn't chide you about it. Something about you makes the hardass in him a little soft. "Suppose so."

You swallow and fiddle with the leather on your gloves, waiting to think of something, anything else to add to the conversation, but your mind is coming up blank.

"Tell me, Sergeant--why did you really come into my office?"

Your heart drops to your ass, and your stomach does the thing. Not the hot-and-sexy-thing, but the oh-shit-I-just-got caught thing.

Elias is a sharp man; follows his intuition, checks every corner he treks, and was raised by plain-spoken folk. He can see through most people and unfortunately, you're most people. You wear your heart on your sleeve, your gaze lingers longer than usual and although it may not be obvious to others, you imitate most of his behaviorisms.

Where you used to take your coffee sweet and milky, you now take black. The way you now drink sparkling water over soda. Your go-to music is The Eagles and Creed over Ed Sheeran and Taylor Swift (though you still did listen to them, it was seldom). Even your eating habits have changed drastically from avid fast food eater to health nut, although that seems more like a get in shape sorta ordeal due to your fast-paced, rigorous work environment. Either way, you have definitely been picking up on a lot of things that he actively does.

You avert your gaze to your fatigued boots. "I don't know."

"Step forward, soldier." He commands, and you oblige. Not because he commanded it, but because you want to be nearer to him. To take in the scent of gunpowder and the leftover aroma of his aftershave.

You're a foot away from him now, hands tucked behind your back, eyes forward. His dark eyes size you up, and you feel the sweat forming on the nape of your neck. 

"Eyes up." His fingers tap under your chin and your lip quivers a bit when you meet his gaze. "You gonna tell me what's really on your mind?"

He taps on your chin once more. "And don't lie to me."

You swallow thickly. "It's not...appropriate."

He clicks his tongue and a half smile appears on his lips. "That right?"

You nod. "Yes, sir."

"I want to hear it."

But he sees the trepidation that overcomes your features. It’s been so painfully obvious to him. Your little crush. It was endearing, cute, mere puppy love, but he would be lying to himself if he hadn’t thought of molding your walls with his girthy cock. He usually tiptoes around it, but the mission from earlier is bringing on an itch that he can’t quite scratch. Not even a Playboy mag could get him right anymore.

He sighs. "You're not my bud to blossom, sweetheart." Brushing the strands out of your face. You tremble at his touch, yet you lean into it. God, he could do anything to you and you'd let him.

"But I'd let you." You grasp his hand. His eyes ream in surprise, but the building arousal jostles up his spine. He may think that blossom is not for him, but he's intently observing how your desire stirs, seeping into your veins. His breath spreads out your petals, the smell of your perfume permeating, intoxicating him.

Your lips part open and his thumb slips in, your saliva coating his gunpowder-stained skin draws an involuntary groan from him. He wants to devour you, but he can't. You're too sweet, too decadent, too fresh. He needs to take his time to savor you. It's wrong, but he can't help himself. Especially when you look up at him with those pretty, perfect doe eyes with his fingers in your mouth.

Your free hand palms at his crotch. It's intrepid, daring how forward you are about your fiery fervor for him. He cocks an eyebrow at you, but he doesn't halt your actions.

"That's a big weapon you're slingin' there, sir." You smirk up at him, squeezing his member over his trousers. "Can I cock it?"

He chuckles at your cheekiness. He wants to disarm you, wipe off everything on his desk, and throw you up there. And you'd be so easy to lift too...

But he's shocked when your lips lock with his, a dauntless action on your part. A subordinate fraternizing with her superior? It's enough to get you locked up, and dishonorably charged, but this wasn't the minor leagues anymore. You were hunting for bigger fish. Something that's beyond the crumbling American government outside these four walls. There's a spark between the both of you that you've been waiting to ignite in him, and he can no longer suppress his deepest hunger pains for his carnal needs.

And soon he is swiping away at the stacks of papers and stationery that lines his desk, hoisting you up to sit that pretty ass on his mahogany counter. A gruff moan escapes his lips as you collide once more, and you're practically clawing at his chest. His tongue slips between your lips wanting to collect yours as your teeth clash in desperate need for each other's solace.

His hands grasp at your wrists, slowing you down, wanting to relish in your taste, your smell, your touch, and the way you moan when he dips his head in the crook of your neck to sensually kiss at your sweet spot. Perspiration builds at the base of his forehead as he slowly unzips your fleece, revealing more of your skin and he kisses at your sternum. Your fingers thread through his silver hair and your breaths become labored at his hot touch.

He wants to build as much anticipation as possible before he takes all of you, all of what you'll allow him at least. Impatiently, your arms cross over your chest, pinching at the hem and smoothly peeling off the skin-tight fabric, leaving you only in your tactical bra. Elias pauses for a second. He loves to appreciate the finer things in life.

His fingers caress your disheveled plait from the top to where your hair tie keeps it bound and he gently removes it. You analyze the lust and admiration in his features as he carefully unweaves your hair.

You watch as his Adam's apple oscillates. "You're beautiful." He susurrates, carding his fingers through your hair. Your heart stammers against your chest when you notice how he looks at you. The rough pads of his fingers glide over your collarbone to the strap of your bra, and slides either side off of your shoulder to reveal your naked breasts. Your nipples instantly harden from the chill in the room, and he gulps before reaching out to squeeze your left one.

To say it had been a while was simply an understatement. The touch of a woman has been lost on him since the death of his wife. So soft, so supple. He pinches at your bud and you involuntarily arch your back and whine out. The guilt he feels dissipates the second his lips latch onto your nipple and you shudder as his tongue swirls around the sensitive skin. "Captain...!"

He gently hushes and kisses your lips tenderly, then your cheek, your jaw as he cops another feel, grabbing two handfuls of your tits while he sucks on your neck. One of his hands glides over the expanse of your abdomen, to unbuckle your belt and unzip your trousers--

"Dad?"

Shit, he left the office unlocked. But it's too late. His boys are stepping through the door, although it's not long before their eyes ream at your half-naked form, legs spread with their father between them. Hesh quickly shuts the door and you both glance down, feeling the guilt skulk into your minds.

"I should go--" Elias sputters, and you nod as you scramble to put your clothes back on. Now this was humiliating. Being caught by his sons fraternizing with their father is just the icing on the cake of it all. You straighten your hair and fix your collar as you begin to head out the door, but his hand catches your wrist bringing you back flush against his chest.

"Don't think I'm lettin' them scare you off." He caresses your cheek, with thumb and you sigh, cheeks still warm with embarrassment. "I ain't done with you yet, sweetheart. Got that?"

He raises his brows at you and you nod. "Yes, sir."

He kisses you softly and your heart skips a beat. "Go on, now." He gestures toward the door. "I'll deal with those two."

Your lashes flutter up at him and you feel warmth all over. He smiles at you, kissing your wrist and it's no wonder you keep forgetting to leave. His gaze, his aura it's alluring and you keep pulling back in for more.

He chuckles at the hearts in your eyes. "That's an order, soldier."

You straighten at his words and nod before rushing out the door, ensuring you hear the click as you close it and quickly get to your quarters. A feeling of heaviness weighs on your shoulders as soon as you shut your door. How were you going to face Hesh and Logan?

[ming-sik]

in general i think that dunkelfelger mostly stumbles because it was clearly designed to be about five characters who are fun to have around during the academy, but when they actually are supposed to participate in the political drama they just... stay the school sports group, which doesn't make sense for an entire duchy, and just compounds the climax's problem of not having any stakes because it's literally a game to them. my fixes would be:

i'm still either consolidating lestilaut into hannelore or switching their personalities. giving hannelore his personality lets her clash with dunkelfelger's expectation that women serve primarily to hunt down and then reign in men by contrasting that with someone who's insane on her own. also lets her be a more direct foil to rozemyne by using her weakness to cute girls to trick her into spending time with a character her age who can actually stand up to her, which the academy arc otherwise really lacks.

clarify that dunkelfelger-the-school-faction is really into ditter the same way most places are into their regional sport. there's definitely a ditter culture and a lot of the students are really into it, but the only time everyone in dunkelfelger is a ditter fan is during the interduchy tournament. the rest of the time there are people who are unathletic or who actively don't care about ditter because they think everyone else being into it is annoying, you know, the way real people in places with heavy sports cultures act.

maybe yurgenschmidt needs more than one sport. they have worf but maybe they could have a third sport. perhaps dunkelfelger could even have many kinds of sports or if we must do ditter at least have a few really weird kinds with fun rulesets so it's not just different kinds of treasure and then the actual game is just anything goes combat. the rules are part of the fun, i really think we could've used a Sports version of ditter rozemyne can't just win by hiding in her car because there's like.... rules.

the actual duchy needs to have other stuff going on. completely spitballing my proposal would be for there to be a faction war between people who want to find a strong zent candidate from dunkelfelger(probably backing magdalena and hildebrand) and people who want to back the current candidate as hard as possible. they both want to avoid the civil war reigniting because of a weak zent or treason. instead of the bride stealing ditter plot being lestilaut just being insane it could be the first faction trying to bring rozemyne in specifically so she or her kid could be the strong dunkelfelger zent they're looking for and they're trying to marry her to lestilaut. also with the sibling personality swap you can have their own succession conflict where maybe hannelore is better suited to the role but she'd rather go the bonifatius route whereas lestilaut is default considered but there's some concern if he's suited for it, so the first faction wants hannelore as the aub for her strength and then lestilaut can marry rozemyne and their kid becomes the zent while the second faction wants lestilaut to become the aub because he's less controversial outside the duchy and no nothing re: the zent no treason here no sir. the first faction presents itself as the hannelore faction but she reveals that not only does she not really want to be aub but also that they'll still expect her to settle down once she "finds a man stronger than her" to marry and they mostly care that she can have strong kids, so she'd actually prefer the second faction since she could become the knight commander if lestilaut's the uncontested aub.

[mirandasidefics]

But Home is Nowhere-Chapter 8

Pairing(s): Lucien x Plus Size Reader, Azriel X Plus Size Reader, and Ruhn Danaan x Plus Size Reader

Part 8 Summary: Lucien senses something is wrong with Reader and seeks out Rhysand. The High Lord feels the magic of the Horn and the pair race off to the Prison. Rhysand gives a warning. Later Azriel and Reader have a much overdue conversation, but it doesn't go as planned. Maybe a line has been crossed...

Word Count: 5.2K

Warning(s): Feelings of hopelessness, physical violence/torture, emotional abuse, tiptoeing around boundaries, Az and Reader ain't nice to each other.

A/N: THANK YOU SO MUCH TO MY BETA READERS! I felt like this chapter was taking forever to write. I completely rewrote half of this chapter and initially planned for a good conversation between Reader and Azriel. However, once I started writing they had other plans...I worry that Az is too out of character. Italics are inner monologue or flashback.

Series Masterlist

Previous: Chapter 7

Lucien paced back and forth needing to expel the energy that was building up inside him. His morning had started just fine, heading downstairs to the town house kitchen while (Y/N) slept. He hadn’t expected to come across Rhysand’s petite second in command. Perhaps the former ancient being was now technically third with Feyre taking on more actual leadership duties. Amren had been looking for the Shadowsinger, when she came upon him cooking breakfast for himself and (Y/N). Clearly taking the opportunity to make her personal opinion on his relationship with the human known. The short conversation that followed riled him more than he liked and all he wanted to do was process the topic with the very person that was its focus. However, his friend was now at the mercy of Bryce and Nesta for whatever asinine experiment that the redhead surely concocted.

She hadn’t even been gone for an hour and already Lucien felt that he was going to wear a hole in the area rug in front of their…her bed. He willed himself to ignore the slip. Even though he slept in it every night he spent in Velaris, his own apartment long forgotten, this was her room. Everything in here belonged to her… except his mechanical eye zoned in on the second toothbrush in the ensuite bath.

“Shit,” He quickly looked around the room, finally taking note of his scattered clothing. A shirt was tossed across the back of the vanity chair and the cuff from pair of breeches poked out from under her nightdress in the dirty clothes basket. He sat back down at the foot of the plush mattress. The top side of the heavy feather down duvet was cold to the touch. The bedroom window was wide open to allow the autumn air to cool the room. He was well aware that she enjoyed the cold air surrounding her as she snuggled into the warmth of her bed. He had to admit that he found peace in seeing her relaxed features when he joined her in the bed’s cozy embrace. Maybe that imp was right. Maybe he had become too wrapped up in caring for…her nightmares to realize that a line had been crossed.

Lucien flopped back onto the bed, arm slung over his eyes to block out the mid-morning sun. Vanilla and honey wafted over his nostrils, his human companion’s scent was thankfully the primary one still lingering in the sheets. He took a few deep breaths trying to will the restless energy away when he felt his heart rate suddenly spike. In a rush he sat up and looked around, almost expecting to see an unknown threat at the threshold to the room. He peered out into the hall, the town house completely silent save for Hunt’s deep slumbering breaths down the hall. Panic set into his bones. With a quick flourish he produced a scrape of paper and pen and scribbled a message to Rhysand. He wasn’t entirely sure if daemati would be aware of any mental attempts to reach out to him, so pen and paper it was. Another quick flick and the paper vanished. Within seconds the High Lord was standing before him.

“Elaine is fine, she just set out to do some shopping with Nyx. Feyre couldn’t wait any longer for (Y/N),” Rhysand’s voice strained to sound indifferent, but he was clearly irritated that he had been summoned. “Where is she by the way? It’s unlike her to be late.” Lucien had the good sense to keep his face as neutral as possible. It wasn’t surprising to find out that the High Lord wasn’t privy to his sister in law’s little excursion. But it was unlike (Y/N) to allow herself to be kept late from her time as Nyx’s governess. However, before he had the chance to respond a ripple of power washed over the High Lord.

“There’s an intruder in the Night Court,” His eyes flashed as darkness began to curl around him.

“(Y/N),” Lucien was instantly breathless. Something was wrong with (Y/N)…

“She’s at the Prison,” Rhysand grabbed Lucien’s wrist and before he could object the pair had winnowed away.

Wind whipped around as what Lucien could only assume was the Prison entrance loomed before them. The trio of females was nowhere in sight. His heart was racing and an uneasy feeling sunk to the bottom of his stomach. He looked around for any sign of life, but the island proved to be just as desolate as he expected. Without a word Rhysand took off in a sprint up the left slope. Lucien’s worry had him following. 

Halfway up the steep mountain face, they found them. (Y/N) was on the ground, tears streaming down her cheeks and a silent cry that the wind had surely carried away. He could practically feel the pain that radiated off her. His own heart lurched, pushing his feet towards her before he could think otherwise. 

“It’s okay, sweet girl,” He called on the magic of his fire to quickly warm his skin, arms slipping around her frame. “You’ve got time to cry. I’m right here.” Her sobs tugged at something in his chest. What had happened to cause his friend such pain? She curled into him, gripping at his tunic. He pulled her closer after a heart wrenching wail pierced the air. 

Lucien glanced over to where Rhysand was berating Nesta and Bryce. He was only able to catch parts of the one-sided conversation, his focus on the human woman he was holding. From what he gathered, Bryce attempted to open a portal. He continued to rub along (Y/N)’s back as she continued to cry. Whatever Bryce had used, the magic must be volatile for Rhysand to be this pissed. Naturally, neither of the Fae females appeared to be fazed by his irritation. Lucien was debating on winnowing you back to the townhouse while Rhysand continued his tirade, but the next words that came out of the High Lord’s mouth made his muscles freeze. 

“We cannot risk the Horn falling into Koschei’s hands! Do NOT use it again!”

You didn’t know how long you cried into Lucien’s broad chest. What was surely mere minutes that passed by felt like hours. Despite Lucien’s warmth surrounding you, the frozen tracks of tears bit at your cheeks. You were vaguely aware of Rhysand’s voice as it bellowed and fought to be heard over the roaring of the wind. Or was that overwhelming desolate wail your own voice? He wasn’t yelling at you, of that much you were certain. No, in this instance you were the very picture of the frightened, fragile, and pathetic human girl he surly wanted you to be. Still, you clung onto Lucien as if your very life depended on it; depended on him and the warmth he always willingly provided you. A gust of wind tousled loose strands of hair. Stubby fingers wrapped tightly into fists around the lose fabric of his tunic. You didn’t want to feel this way. The toll that the loneliness and isolation from those that you loved had fully revealed itself.

Like the hidden cave entrance of the Prison, what you thought was just a small crack was really a wide cavern. The small glimmer of hope that the horn illuminated had been ripped away. You felt a familiar emptiness creep its way towards your heart. Slowly the tears came to a halt and you took several steadying breaths. Numb. You had to become numb again. You couldn’t dwell on this failed attempt. With your eyes closed, you focused on the warmth of Lucien’s embrace.

You focused on the image of the black void and the emptiness and hopelessness that the failed portal to your world conjured inside you, and then pictured yourself stuffing it into a little cardboard moving box. Each push of the memory into the box was accompanied by an exhale. You could feel his warm hands on your face, wiping away the tears. The soothing touch helping to ground you. Once the entire memory was inside the box and sealed, you pictured setting the box to the side, along with all of your other awful memories, and opened your eyes. Your vision was flooded with a loving radiance that seemed to shine from Lucien’s sharp features. Your own personal sun bringing warmth and life to your iced over existence.

You had to fight the sudden and surprising urge to reaching out to him. To caress his face and bring it closer to yours. To…you stopped yourself from finishing the thought and blinked rapidly. His mechanical eye whirred, the pupil narrowing as he looked over you. The slight furrow to his brow showing his confusion. At what you weren’t sure as you did your best to mask over your features. You plastered a weak smile onto your lips before he helped you to stand. The sensation of pins of needles slowly washed up from your toes to your knee cap, encircling your calf muscle as the blood rushed back towards the frozen limbs.

“Can you take me back to the townhouse?” Lucien’s hand was warm within your own. “Please?”

“Of course, love.” He wrapped his arm around your waist, and in a instant the two of you were back in your bedroom.

The rest of your day went by in a haze. Lucien winnowed you back to the townhouse so you could change out of the Illyrian leathers. The afternoon weather was vastly different in Velaris compared to the mountain of the Prison. After a quick shower, you opted to put on a short flowy forest green dress. You were grateful for the breezy fabric as you moved about the kitchen in the River House. You and Elain spent most of the day with Nyx and preparing for the family dinner that Rhysand had invited you to join as some type of apology for this morning’s events. You told him that it wasn’t necessary as he had nothing to do with Bryce and Nesta’s decisions, but he insisted. You had been to a few of the Inner Circle’s family dinners, but you were certain that the invitation was mainly for Nyx’s benefit. The fact that you had been roped into helping make the meal took away from any sense of sincerity of inclusion that Rhysand may have intended.

However, keeping busy with dinner prep helped to ensure that your mind didn’t linger on the hopelessness that threated to still pull you under. You kept your focus on the tasks that Elain assigned you, such as kneading and rolling out the dough for bread and a batch of chocolate chip cookies. Nyx somehow ended up covered in flour, but you didn’t mind having to be the one to clean him up. Or at least you would have been had Azriel not entered the space.

Your back stiffened as he voiced a soft greeting to you. You had hoped that was going to be the end of your interaction as he engaged in a whispered conversation with Elain. You focused your attention on Nyx, brushing flour from his clothing so it didn’t sprinkle on the floor as he made his way to the bathroom. You felt a set of eyes on you and your muscles tensed even more. Without having to look you knew that Azriel was looking watching you and Nyx. The child looked over your shoulders, a smile spreading over his features as he gave a little wave to the Shadowsinger behind you. You had to repress the urge to shudder or show any level of discomfort. You knew that Azriel was just waiting to talk to you.

“Alright little one, let’s go upstairs to get you changed,” You moved to lift Nyx so that you could easily carry him. However, before you could Elain squeezed in between you.

“I’ll take him if you can get the bread out of the oven,” You stood, body ridged in front of the counter, as she picked up the small child. You looked between her and Azriel, a grateful smile on his features. Immediately you knew that they’d conspired against you. You couldn’t do this, not after what you already experienced today. You couldn’t be left alone with him and didn’t want to be forced to have any type of conversation.

What does one even say to the person that caused such physical and emotional damage? Did he want to talk about that weird interaction this morning? If so, that could wait. What was there to talk about anyway really? It was a fluke. Reaching for one of the towels you took a deep breath. You were too emotionally exhausted to deal with him, or really anyone for that matter. You just wanted to return to your room. Return to the warmth of your bed and the male that-

“Hi,” Azriel stood on the opposite side of the oven. The thought was cut off by the soft tenor that slithered over you.

“Hi,” Your response was short as you leaned over and opened the oven door. The hot dry air felt like sand blasting against your eyes, your glasses doing nothing to protect them from the heat.

“Could we-”

“I can’t do this with you right now Azriel,” You tried your best to set the cast iron skillet gently on the stove top. The metal clanging loudly as you nearly dropped it from the heat that rapidly soaked through the towel you used to pull it out of the oven. He cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry to hear about what happened at the Prison earlier today,” Azriel’s voice was low. You briefly wondered how he had even heard about the failed portal and then remembered his shadow singing abilities and his position in the court. Of course, Azriel would have easily found out.

“I said not now,” He ignored you and took a step closer. You chanced a glance towards the door swaying on its hinges. Elain having just left in a rush, confirming all the more that she was assisting Azriel in finally cornering you. And perhaps she wasn’t too happy about it either if the force of which the door continued to swing was any indication. His multitude of attempts to speak to you outside of the flight time to and from your training over the past couple months had been unsuccessful thus far.

You were forced to have that contact with him, and while this morning’s behavior would give anyone on the outside a reason to believe you two were close, the fact was that there was still a lot of tension between the two of you. And with today’s events bringing up emotions you hadn’t fully processed, you were already drained. You didn’t have the energy to deal with anything he may have to say to you. And anything he had to say could wait until the morning.

“Then when? I’ve been trying to talk to you for months (Y/N),” He took another tentative step towards you. You took a step back, wringing the towel in your hands. A shadow curled over his shoulder as if it too expected an answer. The dark memory of those same shadows flashed in front of you. You were at least grateful for the fact that you weren’t trembling, well not yet anyway. Perhaps the forced proximity was helping and the interaction this morning wasn’t just some weird fluke.

“You had the opportunity to talk to me this morning,” You slung the towel over your shoulder and steeled your nerves before finally meeting his hazel gaze. “And what the hell was with you this morning?” His brows furrowed. “The Apple? And the Koala comment. I didn’t even know those existed here.” You clarified. The edges of his lips twitched, but he merely shrugged in response.

“It relieved some of the tension did it not?” You could tell he was fighting back a smirk.

“Tension? You think that…” No jokes like this wasn’t his style. With the forced proximity, you had been able to observe how he interacted with others. His sense of humor was drier, much like your own. So, who told him to joke like this? “Do you honestly think that pretending things are just fine…that jokes will magically make everything better?”

“No,” He sighed. “I know that they won’t, but they can help with creating an opening for an apology. It’s the apology- a proper apology that may help get us off the wrong foot we started on.” You were silent. You honestly never expected to receive an apology from him. You had acknowledged long ago that he was following the orders of his High Lord. Was that who was pulling his strings now? The ever obedient Azriel, performing his duties to his court in keeping his loved ones safe by making sure there was no threat from you. While you recognized that he may not have enjoyed his task, how could you expect him to apologize for…doing his job. You certainly hadn’t ever apologized for doing yours. Furthermore, it wasn’t like his words alone would take away the invisible scars of the trauma your time with him caused.

“I want to apologize for…well mainly for how…the situation that…” You scoffed. This most certainly wasn’t a genuine apology. He couldn’t even say it. He couldn’t even say two simple words let alone ever admit the extent of what he did to you in that cell. You shook your head at the way he continued to fumble over his words before you resumed your task of finding a knife to slice the bread cooling on the stove top.

“Just stop,” You took the bread knife out of the block, a metallic ting ringing through the near empty kitchen. His voice trailed off and one of his shadows curled around your wrist. You yelped as the cold of the shadow practically burned your skin. The knife in your hand now clanking against the stone floor.

“I’m sorry,” Azriel stooped down to pick up the object. You desperately tried to control your breaths. You couldn’t tell if the heavy feeling on your chest was from the rising panic that the shadow conjured or the ire of him being able to say those words so easily for something that didn’t matter. A simple accident, such as dropping a knife, was nothing to apologize for, but torture and abuse certainly was.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N),” He whispered, handing you the knife. “For so many things.” After taking the knife from his scared hands, all you could do was blink. Everything fell silent. You were certain that those in the dining room had gone quiet so as to try and listen into your conversation. You really didn’t want to have this conversation. Mainly because you had no idea how to respond. It had been a year and you still didn’t know how to really move on. While most nights were now nightmare free, you believed that was only because you weren’t always alone in your bed. How could you trust anyone that couldn’t see you were still do dependent on the presence of another to just be normal? For it was when you were alone that the memories haunted you.

You turned the wash basin’s tap allowing the water to pelt against the metal of the knife. Each drop appeared to move in slow motion as they struck the blade. Hopefully the sound of the rushing water would be clue enough for him to end the conversation. Instead, out of your peripherals, you caught him leaning his hip against the side of the basin. His head tilted to try and look at your face. Your hands began to shake so you did your best to busy them with the needless task of cleaning the blade.

“Did you-”

 “I appreciate the effort it took to apologize, Azriel,” You took in a deep steadying breath. “But I’m not in a place where I can easily forgive you. Not just yet.” You recognized that at least that much needed to be said. ‘Acknowledge the apology, even though it is like a farce. You are not obligated to accept it. You don’t owe this male anything. It is Rhysand’s order that forces you to be close to him. Not his own desire to make things right.’ You had to actively fight against the images that started to creep up into your mind.

“I didn’t expect you to,” He countered. “I know healing from trauma takes time and you needed space.”

“And yet you cornered me in the kitchen, completely ignoring my telling you I didn’t want to have this conversation,” You turned the knife over in your hands, letting the now soaked cloth wipe down the blade. Your eyes had long ago left his, focusing on the task in front of you.

“You should have let me come to you-”

“Would you?” His voice took on a slight edge making your heartbeat tick up a few paces. You tried not to remember the last time you heard that tone, but the echoes of his demands resounded through you. ‘ANSWER ME!’ Your body flinched at the memory of an invisible slash across your forearm. You nearly dropped the knife a second time.

“How am I supposed to know when to approach you or when you will be ready to start healing?” You whipped your head towards the male and you felt the spark of your ire ignite. Unfortunately, the anger did nothing to dispel the fear.

“You will know when I tell you,” Your own seething voice was soft. “And my healing is not your, nor anyone else’s responsibility. It is mine. Alone.” Your felt the muscle in your jaw tick as you worked to keep your breath steady. Instead it just felt shallow from the heaviness that coated your chest.

‘STOP LYING!’ Another phantom shout and the heaviness threatened to constrict your airway altogether. It had been a while since the memories of his torture interrupted your waking thoughts. This was the longest you had been left alone with him in a year. The flights to and from the House of Wind never allowed for conversation. If you were to get through this dinner, you needed the memories to go back in their box.

“Have you told that to your Autumn Lord?” His voice held a quiet venom that you had become all too familiar with. One you were certain that his family knew nothing about. “Or do you just enjoy flaunting having another female’s mate in your bed?” Red filled your vision as it tunneled down and a high pitch tone washed over you. You barely registered the feeling of the knife as you flipped it in your hands. The point of the blade creating a dent in the skin under his chin. A thin line of crimson liquid slowly dripped down along the sharp edge.

“Lucien is my friend,” You spat. “Do not talk about him like he is some dishonorable fiend.” 

“Good to see your training is paying off,” Azriel’s smile was dangerous. “You actually managed to cut me.”

“So much for an apology,” You scoffed pulling the knife away. “You’re still just as cruel as you were in that cell.” Azriel took a quick step back, just as the door swung back open. The middle Archeron sister briskly making her away over towards you. The pin drop of blood was now gone from his chin, leaving only the tension in the air between you and the male. Her eyes trailed over the Shadowsinger as she walked by. If you didn’t know any better, you would have sworn that they had their own telepathic communication from the brief look before she plastered a smile on her pink lips.

“Everything is ready,” Elain’s clear and steady voice cut right through the heavy atmosphere. Her smile slowly putting you at ease, allowing you to feel comfortable enough to set down the knife. You and Elain got along quite surprisingly, but there was something strained in her smile towards you. Did she know? Did she put Azriel up to confronting you about her mate and where he slept? You felt your gut twist at the fact that if she knew and felt like she couldn’t say anything to you directly…fuck. You needed to have a talk with Lucien. Though, that talk would have to wait until after this stupid dinner.

Your conversation with Azriel just fueled your doubt and you didn’t want to be here. Maybe you could convince Rhysand to let you go home. It should be a relief to him anyway. You were not considered family to any of them. You were the hired help, no more and no less. Being Nyx’s nanny gave you some type of purpose anyway. There really wasn’t anything else for you to do in this court while you waited to hear if Helion would allow you to step foot into the Day Court. All you could do was wait.

“Ewain!” The kitchen door slammed open with a surprising force, nearly knocking back into the toddler as he chased after his aunt on his tip toes. He rounded the corner of the center island workspace, large bright violet eyes lighting up when he saw you. The child squealed, forgetting his Aunt entirely and made a beeline directly for you. Arms stretched out and up as he continued to run. Nyx reminded you so much of your own nephew, right down to the dark black curls and tan completion. Honestly the only physical difference was the eye color and bat wings that the little one running towards you possessed. You fought back the tears as you scooped him up into your arms.

“Hello my little one,” You cooed before showering him in a flurry of kisses to his now clean chubby cheeks. “Let’s go eat, shall we?” Thankful for the distraction, you carried Nyx out of the kitchen without even a second glance at the male that still very much frightened you.

            A shadow slithered along Azriel’s forearm before winding its way up yours. The bitter cold that the shadow left in its wake burned into your bones. Pain shot down your spine as the shadow wrapped around your throat. The pressure just enough to slow down your ragged breaths. At least that was the intention. Your panicked mind just forced your body to take in shallow gasps. Torn between wanting to get as much air as possible in one instance verse knowing that oxygen needed to be conserved. It didn’t matter though. The darkness around your vision sunk in, your eyes fluttering closed. A soft clicking of the tongue in admonishment. Followed by a sharp pain to your side, the pain seeped into a burn that spread along your entire oblique. You screamed and sobbed. The shadow at your throat slowly twined its way up and around your ear. The whisper soft caress almost that of a lover. That was until the voices started. The voices you always heard in the back of your mind. Worthless, Disgusting, Unloved, Unwanted, Pathetic. The words swirled around you, growing louder with each passing second.

‘You are nothing. So just share your secrets.’

‘Yes, spill them alongside your blood.’

‘Worthless.’

‘Disgusting.’ You tried to shake the swirling voices away, but your head was just so heavy.

 ‘Unloved.’

‘Unwanted.’ You tried to cry, but nothing escaped the darkness those shadows brought.

‘Pathetic.’

‘She’s going to die.’

‘Just die.’

“Will you answer me! Please!” How could you speak though? It wasn’t going to matter what you said, it would only tighten the noose already viciously wrapped around your neck. You didn’t know what else to say.

“(Y/N)! Please!”

 “(Y/N)?” Feyre’s concerned voice cut through the memory. Your body flinched against your will as she gently placed her hand on your arm. You blinked against the brightness of the dining room. You hadn’t even realized the memory complete over took you in the middle of a conversation. You carefully glanced up along the table, each pair of eyes looking at you. You couldn’t determine which sets held genuine concern. Rhysand and Azriel were the only ones that appeared to be complete unaffected by your dissociation. However, you quickly realized they had been having their own mental conversation after the flecks of green returned to the Shadow Singer’s iris.

“S-Sorry,” You tried to cover up the crack in your voice. “It’s been a long day.”

“Then perhaps it would be a good idea for you to take tomorrow off after all?” You had previously told the High Lady that a day off to process would not be necessary. That you were happy to be with Nyx and being with him was enough. But given the looks you were getting from the entirety of the Night Court’s Inner Circle, maybe you should be grateful and take her up on the offer.

“Perhaps,” You mumbled. Your gaze traveled back to the toddler you sat next to. The child smiled, not a care in the world or knowledge of the horror that it held. He banged on the table next to his plate, crumbs lifting into the air briefly. You let out a soft laugh and pushed the darkness from your mind. You took the napkin that had been on your lap, the child’s own being on the floor, and dipped it in your water glass. You quickly cleaned up the juice from the roast that lined his lips and kissed the child’s forehead.

“You’re right,” After placing the dirty napkin on the table you pushed your chair out and stood. You moved Nyx’s highchair out, his arms immediately lifting up in anticipation of being picked up.

“Before you leave,” Rhysand’s voice was smooth. “Helion has agreed to meet you. Next week you’ll go to the Day Court. Az-” The High Lord paused and you were certain that it had to do with the fear that locked onto your body. “Lucien…and Mor will accompany you.” After a beat you managed to dip your head in acknowledgement. You picked up Nyx from his seat, allowing Feyre to give him a kiss before carrying him over to his father. Rhysand gave the child his own kiss before tapping him on the nose. The energy of the male was so different when interacting with his son. It always surprised you. Nevertheless, Nyx said his good byes to all at the table before you took him upstairs.

Back in your world you had helped your own nephew plenty of times in getting ready for bed. Each night with him was hell on Earth and a never-ending fight until he finally passed out from whatever tantrum he threw. Nyx’s bedtime routine was the exact opposite. He enjoyed every minute of his bath and didn’t fight against you when you washed his hair or told him it was time to get out. He enjoyed picking out his own pajamas, and he absolutely loved his stories and your songs. Tonight, he practically begged for a combination of story and song. So, you wracked your brain for a story that would fit the bill while still sending the child off to sleep.

“Alright then little one,” You sat on his bed, back against the headboard. “Cuddle close. I’m going to tell you another story about the two sisters from Arendelle. In this story, Elsa explores an enchanted forest and finds the truth of her powers from the river, Ahtohallan.” Nyx clapped in excitement as you dramatically cleared your throat. Smiling down at the child, you began to sing.

Where the North wind meets the sea…  

Next: Chapter 9 (Part 1)-Coming Soon

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[decepti-thots]

something that is very interesting rereading early MTMTE is that the comic is actually very much written with the assumption a ton of its readership are specifically pre-existing IDW comics readers, which can sometimes be difficult to remember because of the fact that a lot of people wound up coming onboard to MTMTE from outside the fandom in the end and now it has a reputation as an entry point as a result. this manifests in a couple ways throughout the first couple major arcs. one obvious one is that the Overlord stuff functionally makes it a sequel of sorts to Last Stand of the Wreckers, at a time no direct sequel was planned. but my favourite is that there's a kind of narrative trick the comic pulls with the leadup to the payoff Remain in Light gives us for Magnus.

the Magnus we get in early MTMTE is not the Magnus we get in earlier IDW comics. he's very exaggerated; where phase one Magnus is a by-the-books stickler for not so much as bending rules and someone we see struggling to maintain that sense of moral uprightness in the face of the war and the people around him being far less dedicated to staying on the straight and narrow like him, it's completely turned up to eleven in early MTMTE. phase one Magnus would not be doing endless doorframe audits, or throwing people in the literal brig for crooked badges. but this doesn't necessarily register as a change in character so much as a change in genre. MTMTE is also a dramedy with heavy emphasis on the comedy side of that in a way no other IDW comic is, and the shift in Magnus' characterisation therefore feels like 'well in THIS genre, that's what that archetype is like', rather than a diagetic shift in character. even if you come to MTMTE straight off those prior comics, it is very much a 'roll with the genre shift' thing rather than a 'hm. Magnus is acting… weird' thing. you let it go.

there are a couple indications this might not be the case early on. Rodimus especially seems to be under the impression that Magnus is acting uptight even for him, with his insistence on waving it off like 'he needs to relax, Swerve can you get him to chill on Hedonia because my guy is REAL stressed' and the like. (this makes sense- Rodimus is the person on the ship who has actually been directly interacting with Magnus regularly pre-MTMTE.) but it's not super obvious and not heavily emphasised.

which makes the eventual post-Overlord and RiL reveal, which is that Magnus has in fact been acting weird because he's having a breakdown that has largely gone unremarked upon by his shipmates, really really good. Magnus has not been doing doorframe audits because he's the comically uptight second in command acting as straight man for genre purposes; Magnus has been sending Rodimus a million memos a day and losing his shit over nothing because as someone whose entire identity as 'Magnus' is rooted in a wartime role he escaped into, he's been having an existential crisis now the war is over and he has no purpose and doesn't know what to do because he never expected to have to play that part in peacetime. the entire time the genre shift was somewhat obfuscating the fact this characterisation was a thing that is in-universe relevant, which also then reflects back on the fact Rodimus is like. hm. probably should have noticed that, now I feel like an asshole for not realising. (the scene where he and Rung discuss those unread memos, post-Overlord.)

it's a small thing, but it's a really effective misdirect for the payoff Magnus gets in RiL that reads a hell of a lot more clearly on reread and rewards that chance to revisit the early issues with that knowledge. of course that wasn't just a gag, of course he's actually slowly losing his shit slightly, he cannot go five seconds without making it clear he is Stressed As Hell. but until you get to that actual reveal, there's just enough room for the comic to let a reader assume it's, you know, we're in a comedy now, we need a hilarious straight man, and Magnus is it. it's great! all the stuff MTMTE pulls to simultaneously obfuscate the Magnus/Minimus reveal while also making it feel completely reasonable on reread is great. really good use of reader bias there.

[al-astakbar]

☆ The Gift -- Thrawn x reader ☆

>title ☆ The Gift ☆part 10/?

>summary ☆ As congratulations for his recent promotion to Grand Admiral, Emperor Palpatine gives Thrawn a gift -- a young woman who has been trained as a pleasure companion.

>pairing ☆  Thrawn x reader ☆ word count [2.1k] ☆ warnings for this part ☆ spanking, sex, dirty talk > series warnings ☆ dubious consent; sexual slavery; concubine/ sex slave AU; will add more warnings as more parts are posted

>series navigation ☆ part 1 ☆ part 2 ☆ part 3 ☆ part 4 ☆ part 5 ☆ part 6 ☆ part 7☆ part 8 ☆ part 9 ☆ part 10

>posted on ao3

author note!! To be very clear, in this story reader is a concubine against her will and is gifted to Thrawn, but there is at no point any noncon between Thrawn and reader. Reader is never noncon with anyone, either referenced or explicitly, and there is never any explicit noncon. However, this is a darker take on Thrawn and he doesn't really have many hangups about putting his gift to use...

Cheunh translations at the end***

A pervasive sense of guilt makes the early days of your acquaintance with Thrawn especially dark. You had hoped that perhaps with time and of course, the demands of a Grand Admiral’s schedule, he might lose interest in you. 

He doesn’t. He watches you, somehow still aloof, but you catch him in moments when his curiosity burns bright in those red eyes. What exactly he wants from you, you aren’t certain. Sometimes you think he just wants you gone, or at least out of his way. Only his desire for you is clear. And feeling the force of that pure, carnal need… for you. On you. In you… 

Your resolve not to enjoy it, and not to let him corrupt your will, are tested constantly. 

Every time you get hot, thinking about his hands on you, it’s accompanied by shame. Shame for your physical need to feel his touch and for liking it and wanting more. Shame for this sort of unexpected connection with him, of all people. Someone lower ranking, maybe, that wouldn't have been so bad. Everyone needs a job, and not everyone joins the Empire because they agree with its policies. But Thrawn... he's high enough in the chain of command to know what he's doing, what he's enforcing, the systems he's holding up-- he has to have some idea of how it’s hurting people. 

You should not be comfortable with him, partaking in the luxury of a warm, soft bed and good food and leisure time. You should not enjoy arguing with him, and you should not like the way he almost smiles when he tells you that you have the temperament of a gundark. 

Worse, you should not daydream about him. You should not think longingly of how it would feel for him to truly, completely possess you. He could have hidden you away somewhere, found a small compartment for you, stashed away like a toy for him to take out and use for his amusement. The thought of it is not as off-putting as you tell yourself it should be. And there is the center of all of it, the silent, deepest sort of shame. Some awful part of you likes-- wants-- to be subject to his whim.

All these conflicting feelings and frustrations make you very bratty. You know you’re testing his patience, just can’t help it. First and second infractions, he frowns at your bad behavior, and if he feels like it, he’ll tie you up and gag you. Ignore you for hours, sometimes. Being messy with your clothes and dishes, leaving your nicely embroidered garments in piles on the floor, going slow getting ready, just being generally contrary… the third time you do something he’s already told you not to do, he bends you over his desk and spanks you. Not playful. No warning. This is the discipline he promised that first night. He manhandles you, ignoring your cries of surprise, and then your tears. He pins you down, one strong arm across your lower back, legs bracketing yours so you can’t kick. Even though the fabric of your robes is quite thin, he always rucks it up. Bare skin to his full uniform. Humiliating. Most of the time he doesn’t bother to take his gloves off. 

He presses himself against your hip to keep you in place, and as he does, you can feel his cock getting hard. It’s worse for your self control, knowing that it turns him on too. You can only pray that he doesn’t notice what he’s doing to you. He goes slow, timing and placing each sharp smack exactly as he wants. Never quite in the same spot.  Each one sends a new shock of arousal through you, the stinging pain somehow striking directly in your core and setting your nerves alight. He spanks your ass and you feel it in your cunt. You feel empty. You yearn for him, to have his cock fill you, overstretch you, to clench and feel nothing else but his hot, hard shaft. 

Your squirming and crying and begging do not sway him to be merciful. His attentions leave your ass hot and red, and he tells you it will help you to better mind him. He watches you keenly the rest of the day, as if he can sense your pulsing, unmet desire. As if daring you to ask him for what you need.

One morning, when he’s done, he does not flip the fabric back down. He leaves you exposed, a teary, quivering mess. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, sniffling. You had kept tapping your foot while at the breakfast table with him, and after he had told you to stop, you had done an insolent extra tap. Other times, he has admonished you for leaving your nice robes on the floor in a careless pile. He always picks them up, examining them with interest, and then drops them again, only to order you to clean up after yourself. 

“I know,” he says, not unkindly. He smoothes a hand over your abused skin. “You will learn. You’ll learn to ask for what you want..”

What you want…  The words catch in your throat, and end as a strangled moan. He caresses you, much too gently. He was not supposed to be like this.

You hear the rustle of shifting fabric, so familiar now, you know what it portends. Then you feel him, blunt and hard at your entrance. You have to stop yourself from pushing your hips back. He exhales in satisfaction as he sinks into you. Inch by inch, nothing forced. He runs his hands up and down your sides, following your curves. Taking his size is still not easy, no matter how slow he goes or how wet you are. You had never followed his first-night edict of making yourself ready for him. 

He rocks his hips, deeper still, and the pain of the spanking tips over to a sweet, aching soreness. Release is right there, so close and so tempting. You can’t help clenching around his thick, hard cock and he huffs out a breath when he feels it. “Mar… tta ba csei. K’ir hah csaah, eunh in’a.” 

You grab at one of his hands to steady yourself, to remind yourself that it’s him, that no matter how enticing his voice sounds, how rough with need in whatever language he’s speaking, how fucking good his cock feels as he fucks you open-- your pleasure is for yourself and not him. You must cling to that.. But he likes this too. He likes you. He gets hard every time he spanks you, and the reminder of how much that turns him on makes you tighten around him.

He slides his arm under you, lifting you to him easily, your back flush against his chest. He holds your breasts, one and then the other, squeezing firmly, rolling and pinching your nipples until he finds just the right amount of pressure to make you moan. And he does it again, over and over. Pulling your nipples to stiff little points to spark every nerve with brightening, insistent need. The only way you’d ever like them touched, and he figures it out in seconds. 

He’s found yet another way to torture you, tease you to madness, while still nominally respecting your wishes. “What was it you said?”  His breath is hot on your neck as he pumps into you lazily. “Don’t try to make it nice for you. Is this nice for you…?” He murmurs your name, and you would swear he’s smirking. 

He knows it is, damn him, and he stops just as soon as you begin to arch to his touch. 

“Thrawn…” You sob in frustration, “--Thrawn, I’m going to--”  at the overwhelming, singular need. You’re so close. So close to giving in, so close to asking, but you know that would only be the beginning. If you asked, he would make you beg. All it would take is one touch, maybe not even that. 

He does not wait for you. As he gets close, he lowers his mouth to suck bruising kisses onto your neck. Very briefly, you wonder what his crew would think, if they saw their venerated Grand Admiral like this. He starts to lose his rhythm, his hips grinding against your sore ass. His cock is bigger than you should be able to take-- but you are taking it. Taking all of him so good, every sense blazing with desire as he fucks you. He swears under his breath, slipping into that strange harmonic language again. 

“Vah cart bat, vim veo ch’itart’asi cart csiz.” You can feel his intensity, his need.He is going to drag you over the edge with him, if not this time, then the next, and once he does, he will truly own you. “Ch’ah-- nnhhh ravri’ihah-- ch’ah ch’epasahn ch’at ran’cah vah racan sesvio’ah ch’eo vuv.” 

You moan his name, a plea, a warning— tension in a string pulled too tight and about to snap—-

Thrawn grunts, and cums hard. His fingers dig into your bare skin, almost too hard, his thick length splitting you open as he pushes himself in to the hilt, as deep as he can go. You feel him stiffen, and then the first hot gush of his cum as his cock pulses inside you. He holds you closer, tighter, overfilling you as he likes to do. So much that you think you might feel your belly swelling up until it starts to leak out, down your legs. He keeps fucking his seed into you slowly, even as he is coming down. His breathing is ragged, more so than you’ve heard before. 

He looks so different in these moments, when you risk peeking over your shoulder to see him. His lips parted, eyes heavy-lidded, his sleek hair falling in his eyes, a purplish tinge to his cheeks which you suppose must be his species’ version of flushed skin. Imperfection looks good on him. 

When he is done, he puts his uniform right and then he tends to you. He has never yet neglected to do this. Even if he has just spanked you, and taken nothing else, he fetches a damp cloth and wipes your face. You try to ignore how nice it feels. How simple, and quiet, and intimate. That he is taking time just for you. He brings a flowery-smelling ointment  and rubs it on your bare, welted ass, soothing the skin until again, all you feel is the warm, insistent pull of arousal. 

Your imagined version of him would be much easier to hate. This kindness is some manipulation of his, you think, though you can’t quite reason through to why. The only thing he never punishes is back talk. You have a sharp tongue, he tells you once, and he finds it entertaining when you challenge his reasoning. 

“You’ll learn,” he repeats. He cleans his cum off your thighs, between your legs. “You know what you want, eunh in’a.”

You can hardly bear his touch there, so sensitive, still primed and trembling with need. He has a way of distracting you from your shame, of washing it away, at least for a little while. Nothing else matters when you want him, and he knows it. 

“What is that word?” You ask, voice small. 

He helps you stand, helps you dress. 

“What does… eunh in’a mean?” You repeat, the foreign sounds thick and awkward in your mouth. 

He does not answer. He runs his fingers over the embroidery after he has settled your robe around your shoulders— he has inspected it closely before, yet it still fascinates him. The colors--his blue skin against the gold fabric-- complement each other. 

“You do very fine work,” he says at last. 

The thought of telling him has crossed your mind a few times. You’ve even wondered if he already knows. “Did it really take you this long to figure it out?”

“I suspected the day we met. Aboard the shuttle. Your face flushed when I complimented the high quality of the work.” He tilts his head. “You are having the same reaction now. There is no need for embarrassment. As I have said, it is beautifully done.”

“I’m not embarrassed!” You begin hotly. “I’m—!”

He raises his eyebrows at your outburst. “...thank you.” You feel suddenly foolish, and rightly chastised. No one else had ever said so much as a word about it. “I’m… I’m proud of it.” You can’t help the small smile you give him. Long after he has gone up to the bridge, his words keep surfacing in your mind while you are staring out the viewport at the starfield, thinking vaguely about where you could possibly take refuge if you did manage to escape the Chimaera. Nowhere, is the realistic answer, and you are almost ready to accept that. Alone with his art, you hold on to his praise, turning it over and over like a small precious stone.

dirty Cheunh for all you freaks :)

cheunh tranx:

“Mar… tta ba csei. K’ir hah csaah, eunh in’a.” -- yes... more of that. do it again, little one

“Vah cart bat, vim veo ch’itart’asi cart csiz.” -- you are beautiful and your desperation is exquisite.

“Ch’ah-- nnhhh ravri’ihah-- ch’ah ch’epasahn ch’at ran’cah vah racan sesvio’ah ch’eo vuv.” -- i -- nnnhh fuck-- i want to feel you cum around my cock

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[oh-no-its-bird]

Ok so everyone say thank you to @kirabasai for infecting me with the thought of Commander Fox getting zapped from starwars to naruto

Mitsuki and Fox clone solidarity,, I know Mitsuki only exists in Boruto but I don't give a shit so now not only is this a dimension travel au it's also a time travel

Somehow both Fox and Mitsuki end up in normal naruto canon, and work together bc uhhhh. Reasons, I dunno.

Fox gets zapped first to boruto, probably through spooky Palpatine sith shenanigans that don't actually matter. But he's only there for a second, with just enough time to knock into Mitsuki before he's zapped again into naruto— accidentally bringing Mitsuki with him.

Oops.

He actually feels kind of bad ab it. Or like, as bad about it as Fox can feel, bc he's Fox. But then he learns Mitsuki is a clone and it isn't just awww shit he accidentally kidnapped some kid but aww shit he accidentally kidnapped a Shiny

Head in his hands, he didn't ask for this,, he was a good boy,, he did his job so diligently,, he hid all the bodies and killed all the people Palpatine told him to,,, literally never done a thing wrong,,,,

Fox winds up with Palpatines lightsaber somehow, and over the course of the story it kind of becomes his. It freaks the absoloute FUCK out of literally any sensors, it is radiating legit evil over there and Fox is holding it like it's no big deal (bc he can't sense shit and is kind of numb to sith energy anyways)

Fox also has a blaster and I am definitely thinking ab the comedy of like. A gun in Naruto. It's a gun. It's a gun that moves fast as light. No one knows what a gun is and Fox is going to get SO much milage out of just having a weapon he can aim places without people realizing what it's ab to do (shoot you in the fucking face)

If someone were to pry into Fox's mind they'd actually have a really awful time of it, then probably walk face first into some nasty lingering sith mind fuckery stuff. Bad experience, 0/10, Fox is very happy w how it turned out but also has no idea why he got that effect. Either way, keep ur nasty ass mind fingers to yourself

Also, Fox speaks Basic. Not Japanese.

I'm thinking he has some sort of standard translator chip that allows him to communicate, but it sometimes translates the stuff he says weirdly. For example, from everyone else's perspective, he keeps introducing himself as Kitsune.

Which, for obvious reasons, doesn't really go over that well with a lot of people in Konoha when he gets there.

He's also visibly foreign and keeps being mistaken for being from Suna

So anyways, Fox and Mitsuki first fight bc like. Hey!! You fucking kidnapped?? Me???

Mitsuki gets the jump on him bc shinobi kid vs guy who doesn't know what a fucking shinobi even is

But then they're able to kinda talk it out and like, look neither of them know where they are so... truce?

Ok so now the fun part:

Fox has no fucking clue what's going on.

From his point of view, he's on... some kind of semi primitive planet. Doesn't remember how or why, but he's here now. So standard GAR procedures; find a way to contact home base. He has his normal gear on him, but no deep space radio, so he'll have to just... make one. Fuck, ok. If he can find the parts, it's doable. All command class clones are taught the basics of how, just like how they're taught how to assemble a blaster from scraps.

But from Mitsuki's point of view, they time traveled.

Mitsuki's POV is the only reason Fox knows there's smthn seriously up, but he's not exactly gonna go "aha! Dimension travel!" On top of it all

Now here's the thing. They're in early naruto canon, some time after wave arc.

Mitsuki only knows chunks of history, and only what has been taught to him second hand from school, Orochimaru, and very very occasional stories from Sasuke or the rest of team Taka

(I feel like Suigetsu especially would have fun telling all sorts of stories)

Not... all of these stories are completely accurate. And even if they are, they're often dumbed down to be easily understood by children— think that one Boruto episode where they put on some sort of silly play about the sanin (which was adorable btw and also fucking hilarious. Actual war criminals son learns about war crimes in class and everyone is just cool happy magic of friendship about it. Amazing.)

So now Fox is learning these fuckin third hand stories from Mitsuki, who literally learned it from the villains of many of the stories, and there is some SERIOUS biases going on

They go to Orochimaru for help.

Local scientist, parent of child (= dependable?) Best source of tech for potential radio + blaster repairs if needed. Fox can trade information to him if needed, it seems like a good choice.

It is not a good choice.

Orochimaru is like nearing the heights of his insanity, and I think it'd be real fun if he decides Sasuke is cool and all but a man from the stars??? A man literally made in a vat to be the perfect example of human physique???? Who's also resistant to many forms of corrosive chakra????

New perfect body alert.

Mitsuki is cute but Orochimaru isn't really in a parental sort of mind set, sorry <3

Mitsuki is going "Huh!! My parent did say they had a pretty severe midlife crisis..."

"Kid I think this is a bit more than just a midlife crisis."

Anyways, then they escape and continue to fuck around trying to build a deep space radio, which at this point is Fox's only hope home which also means it's Mitsuki's bc maybe the jedi can help with the whole uhh... time? Thing?

I'm thinking that after the thing w Orochimaru goes to shit, they're both a lot more wary of the fact that Mitsuki's information may not be the best.

After Oro in terms of figures of power and safety, almost everyone else is either a child, not born yet, or their current location is unknown— except for good old dependable ✨️ rokudaime Kakashi ✨️

Ok so picture this. You're Kakashi, sleeping peacefully in bed after a long day fucking with your students (who you're still very conflicted about having) You wake up to a presence in ur room and there's some fucking snake kid leaning over ur bed going "Hatake-sama—"

You freak out.

Knives may be thrown.

The snake kid has a very angry looking, foreign adult man body guard.

This is so fucking suspicious.

The snake kid says he's a time traveler, and that you are the eventual Rokudaime and also the only person he knows he can trust 100%

This is so fucking suspicious.

So obviously, Kakashi plays along then turns around and reports the fuck out of their asses to the Hokage.

Yeah, Fox doesn't really know what he expected. If some random kid showed up looming over HIS bed in the middle of the night, said he'd be the next chancellor and they know bc they're a time traveler and also pretty please help me build a deep space radio so I can go home— well, he wouldn't report them to Palpatine because not even he's that sadistic. But he'd probably toss them into the cells for a minute, if only because it was one of the only perks of his job

Or, well, for that analogy to work it wouldn't be a deep space radio, because he was used to space travel. It'd have to be something wilder— like an interdimensional radio. Haha, good one. Like that existed. God, imaging having to try and make one of those, that'd be insane. Fox would just kill himself at that point. Good thing he doesn't have to, right? Right?

Anyways mid adventure, they bump into Jiraiya who is fucking horrified to recognize Orochimaru's way of smiling in Mitsuki and gaslights himself into thinking he HAS to be wrong.

I think its Jiraiya who finally helps them out

[nrdmssgs]

Activision doesn't understand, how Russian language works

Spoilers to CoD MW3 below the cut.

@sofasoap @siilvan @cumikering @stag-beetle-wastaken @gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot be my guests.

First and most important: this rant is not aimed to 'make Russian culture great again'. I am not offended as a representative of some cultural or linguistic group. But as a member of gaming community, I feel, as if Activision... kinda didn't give a flying f about the gaming experience, that they are trying to sell me for 60 Euros. And I can't say, I like this feeling.

Second: I will be criticizing some approaches to language, that I will never criticize in fanfiction. Because you guys are doing it for free, for the sake of having fun. So I will be ok with you just straight using Google translate to write e.g. Nikolais lines in Russian. Because you never ask me to pay 60 Euros for the right to read your works. With that being mentioned, lets roll!

Activision doesn't pay attention to their own script, when it comes to Russian lines

Ok, this is a major issue. Because Activision sometimes gives completely different information in character line and in the subtitles. And it is not some minor information, we are talking about major plot details!

Let's just watch 20 seconds of a playthrough (time code 8:44)

Pay attention closely to how Makarov starts his monologue after Nolan says "Its an honor, commander". Makarovs subtitles say 'four years', when Makarov says something like 'shest let'. "four" in Russian is "chetyre", "six" is "shest`". These words sound nothing alike! And to check this, you literally need 5 seconds on google translate! Here, Activision, I did your work for you and I don't even ask for 60 freaking Euros! You learn these numbers on your second-third lesson of Russian 101!

There are ways to fix this scene. There are even ways to do it without reshooting Julian (because ok, I get it, maybe he costs so much, that all our 60 Euros purchases would never help Activision to economically recover...). All you need is to ask him to record TWO WORDS!

Activision doesn't care for wording even in the simplest proverbs

You remember a saying "enemy of my enemy is my friend"? I mean, of course you do, even John Price remembers it! And you know, who forgot this saying? Activision did! Because honest to god, I was very happy with our new Yuri, until he produced this ominous linguistic construction... (time code 56:10)

And if you think, it sounds just a tad off in English... Well, in Russian this sounds, as if a Colonel, a man, who spent tenths of years constantly communicating with soldiers, superiors, officials, started learning Russian... a month ago.

This is an international proverb, it exists in many languages! Now this is a safe case to use an automatic translator! It gives you a very simple answer.

But for some mysterious reason, Activision writes their strange line, translate to russian and find a poor-working synonym so that Yuri doesn't say 'opponent' twice... And in the end it kinda still makes sense, but this whole phrase sounds so off!! You never choose this sick long, overloaded wording for a proverb, that you literally learn at school. They just make it look like zarin is already there and it affects Yuri heavily.

This is just one example, but in reality, almost every Makarovs monologue sounds very strangely formulated. I just got you one example, but believe me, this is a systematic issue here. And the strangest thing is that all their errors are so easy to fix, but they never bothered!

Activision doesn't care for how Russian sounds

Ok, this is not a rant against Julian Kostov. The guy does his wor absolutely gorgeous! He steals every scene, where he appears, and I have nothing, but respect for him. However... Russian is a complicated language. For real. It is full of long words, with many unfamiliar for European ear sounds. It is not only difficult to understand it - it is complicated even to imitate it.

Now apparently Julian knows Russian to some extent just because of his origin and age. But that doesn't save him from swallowing some letters, syllables, sometimes even big parts of words. And when it happens in almost every line of his character - it becomes an issue. An issue, when even Russian-speaker has to read subtitles to understand, what is going on in a scene with two Russian characters!

This whole scene is a nightmare (time code 1:42:54). Replaced letters, disappearance of parts of words, strange accents - they collected a bingo on this one.

And I dont blame actors here! Because on every shooting there is a director - a guy, who is responsible for how overall scene will look and sound in the end. There is always a possibility to find someone, who actually speaks the language and make them sit and listen! And if there are many issues with pronunciation revealed - you just come to your actors and say 'guys, you did amazing jobs, we are so happy to work with you. Now can we please do another shot and pay attention to these lines of yours?'.

And believe me, it is ok to have multiple shots for ingame cutscenes! Actors are ok with that! I don't ask for a perfect pronunciation, I just ask Activision to make sure, their characters don't sound as if they are speaking gibberish!

The most strange part here is that there are super-clean lines in game as well! Milena spoke with accent too, but she sounded clear! Some NPCs sounded perfect!

So Im sorry, but at the end of the day - this your most accurate Russian character by Activision. Because he chose to speak English.

[loveackermannn]

ALWAYS. –.ೃ࿐ 𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐢 𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧.

(*IMPORTANT:* brief mentions of harassment and anxiety!)

roommate!levi swears by the fact that he doesn't get jealous easily for your sake but when it comes to the persistence that some men have to be crossing a line – that's a whole different story for him

hell it's not even jealousy as anyone would call it, but more of an instinct he can never seem to shake whenever the two of you go out to a club with your friends or even as simple as walking down a street to the convenience store.

he very much so has his arm wrapped around you as much as he can help it and sometimes if he has to from a distance, he'll always have his eyes glued onto you and your surroundings.

if ever another man even for a second breathes in your direction, levi has all his sights on him. he won't interfere right away, but if the situation ever calls for his presence by your side, there's absolutely no hesitation.

his eyes are trained on the two of you as he sees the man pathetically 'attempt' to swoon your heart onto the dance floor with him. it was clear from the start that you weren't in the least interested at his obvious intentions, so when you politely declined, it seemed as though he couldn't get the memo..

"cmonnn, i can be lots of fun!! just one dance, whatdaya say?" the man inches closer with each step he took and the moment you showed the slightest bit of discomfort, you immediately felt arms encircle your waist as you came into contact with a hard, yet familiar chest meeting your back.

"i believe she already said 'no' didn't she?" levi's eyes narrowed at the man in front of you, completely unwavered in his tone of voice and his arms securing tighter around you.

"what the hell do you know? what are you her boyfriend or something? didn't see you with her at all since i came in here."

"that doesn't fucking concern you does it? she clearly doesn't want anything to do with you. get that through your thick skull, before i make it clear for you." levi's voice sounded to have dropped an octave lower and from that point, it took no more than a few seconds for the man to practically scurry off into the crowd and disappearing out of view.

the strobing lights and blaring music of the club continued on, but was entirely disorienting especially after what had just occurred. while you could still make out levi's figure behind you, it was as though everything else felt a blur. the uncertainty of what could've happened had levi not accompanied you spiked your anxiety even more – you wanted to feel safe again.

it was at that point when levi picked up on how frozen you stood in his hold and he softly bent down to your ear and spoke with such gentleness to not startle you further.

"let's take a breather outside doll, i'm right here don't worry. i won't let anything happen to you."

you were finally brought out of your thoughts and nodded wordlessly, taking his hand in yours as he led you through the clusters of people. occasionally, his hand would squeeze yours out of reassurance and it was his own way of keeping you grounded until you were out of the door.

as soon as the cool air came to your senses, it felt like you could breathe again – but, it wasn't private enough to where you could freely express your emotions without the pressure of the public's eye watching you fall apart. so, levi continued to lead you further down the sidewalk until a secluded alleyway appeared within feet. he turned the corner with your hand still interlocked with his until neither of you could be seen for a good while.

swiftly, he pulled you back into the comfort of his chest, keeping one hand on your back and the other pressed against your head. your quiet sobs filled the enclosed space but hearing levi's voice delicately command you to take deep breaths was more than enough to soothe your nerves.

the two of you stayed intertwined in each other's embrace for minutes that felt like an eternity. nothing was said nor did anything need to be said. the familiar silence was like a conversation between you on its own – a simple moment that says so much, without even words exchanged.

as if for levi to say 'i'll always protect you no matter what.'

☆ — 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @luvjiro , @youre-ackermine , @lovolee3 , @notgoodforlife , @averysmolbear , @bejewelledd , @leviismybby , @evas-leslas , @roseofdarknessblog @cometlevi , @21aurora (! ! 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐠𝐨 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝💌)

[halsaph]

alright whats this artdrone killbot thing

hi. You will regret asking this

The Murderbot Diaries is a series of books about a human-bot construct that was designed to essentially exist as an enslaved security guard / piece of sentient spyware. It's like if Alexa had half a human brain and a gun. We're introduced to Murderbot (the murder alexa) roughly 3 years after it's hacked the piece of hardware in it's brain that forces it to obey commands. In those 3 years it hasn't changed much about it's life except now while working as a subhuman slave it watches tv when no one is paying attention. As a series TMBD largely is about themes of personhood and discovering yourself when you have largely spent your life being denied the right to a sense of self. They also don't shy away from addressing the trauma that Murderbot has experienced from having it's autonomy stripped of it for most of it's life, with the second novella and most recent novel most heavily featuring that as an element. (Although that is a core aspect of Murderbot's character that informs its decisions throughout the entire series).

Murderbot as a character is bitingly sarcastic and witty, deeply paranoid and ultimately filled with the constant low level anxiety it doesn't know what it's doing (not necessarily moment by moment but overall, with it's freedom, with it's life). It's an excellent unreliable narrator because it only tells you exactly what it thinks is important in a scenario, relationships between other characters, physical features of itself and the people around it, it's own emotions and reactions often being completely brushed over with only occasional clues, and often outright misinterpreting people's actions, most often it's own. It has this ever present self loathing in the first several books where it constantly explains it's actions away in the least charitable interpretation possible even though we see time and time again that at it's core it deeply wants to help and protect the people around it. And we see over the course of the books as it starts learning how to make choices for itself and interacting with people who treat it with respect and develops a support system as it starts to move away from that mindset (with the exception of the most recent book but to be fair to MB System Collapse is about it being forced to confront it's PTSD and it's backsliding alot from recently being thrown back into a situation from its worst nightmares). I said before its a human-bot construct to explain that it isn't purely an inorganic being but Murderbot is a deeply inhuman character and openly has no desire to be human, and it's perspective as something that is made to be a security system and enmesh into both digital and hardwired surveillance is fascinating to read. As you know I deeply deeply love robots, they're my favorite kind of 'inhuman but still a Person' kind of character and Murderbot perfectly strikes the balance between a starkly in human way of thinking and deeply relatable emotions that draws me to robots as a whole, especially as an autistic person (and Murderbot was intentionally written with autistic traits but in a subversion of the typical ableist depiction of autistic robots so that EXTRA rings true lmao)

seeing as you mentioned it I will also explain ART as a character, ART is one of the reoccurring characters in the series (the first 3 novellas all have completely different casts outside of Murderbot itself as it hops from place to place trying to decide what it wants and who it is before in the fourth novella and beyond bringing back in previous characters and having them start to overlap throughout the rest of the series). It was introduced in the second book and is arguably the character that has the greatest impact on Murderbot as a person although I say arguably bc I would personally still say that's Mensah. Unarguably tho it is one of the most important people in Murderbot's life and has been described multiple times now by the author as the love of its life (although not necessarily in a romantic sense as Murderbot is both within text and confirmed via word of god acearo). ART (Asshole Research Transport) also known as the Perihelion (although not until the 5th book/first novel bc Murderbot doesn't bother to tell tell the readers its name until then, instead deciding its a dick so its gonna exclusively call it by an insult) is a spaceship's pilot AI, made to be sentient instead of the usual smart GPS as an experiment by the university is was made by. It was raised like a child by a pair of scientists who are now part of its crew (along with its sibling Iris) and now is a teaching vessel for students learning about deep space and also anticorporate espionage worker (don't worry about it). It's a giant pushy asshole unless you're a child (the only character we've ever seen it meet on screen it didn't in some way immediately threaten was a 16 yo). It can't watch tv without having to pause at the suspenseful bits to calm down. We're introduced to it by it threatening to melt Murderbot's mind and then pouting when it's scared shitless. It then a month later asks to do surgery on it. It fully intends to blow up a planet to get Murderbot back from a group of colonists that captured it until someone talks it out of it because that isn't effective hostage negotiation.

[fusionnukacola]

Companions crushing on Sole before either lets on to their feelings.

Thanks for requesting! I've always loved asks like these.

Cait: The second she saw that, honestly, hot piece of ass stumbled into the Combat Zone and singlehandedly take out all of the raiders, she was smitten. Cait had only been traveling with Sole for a few weeks, but she already found herself looking at them when they weren't watching. Plans to do something about it, but has no idea what to do.

Curie: Had no idea what the feeling was. She'd experienced it once before, decades ago when one of the scientists had been extremely kind to her, but that didn't compare to what she felt now. Will do mostly nothing about it, except for a few spare comments about the weird feeling in her stomach she gets sometimes around Sole.

Danse: Gets scared straight off the bat. He lists all the things wrong with this attraction towards Sole, such as, "I'm their commanding officer." And "This is just straight-up inappropriate." Becomes, somehow, even more, awkward around Sole. Eventually goes to Haylen for advice, and she laughs at him before giving him advice. If Sole has completed Blind Betrayal, he wonders about how they could ever like someone like him, a machine.

Deacon: Worse jokes. Worse humor. He doesn't know how to deal with it, so he denies it every time he can. Tries making flirty jokes and stutters halfway through it and comes up with a different ending, usually ending in jokes that don't make sense at all. "Hey babe-bbbitch how those uhhh . shit. bye." Desdemona wants to deck him.

Hancock: Convinces himself he just wants to fuck Sole. He's wrong. Makes flirty jokes every chance he gets, and Sole thinks he's joking. He is not. Cries to Fahrenhite about how beautiful Sole is every night. She's getting sick of his crush. Tells him to "man-up" and go talk to them before she "throws him out of the window."

MacCready: Genuinely writes a comic book of them both. Spends all night on it and it's written in crayon. Offers to give them sniping tips, but gets too nervous when he's close to Sole like that, and completely messes it up. Blushes very easily.

Nick Valentine: Tells himself that it'll pass, but wonders what it would've been like if the original Nick met Sole before Jennifer. What would they think now, of the pretend Nick Valentine? Doesn't worry about it too much, but also won't make an advance.

Piper: Nervously laughs around them all the time. Purposefully doesn't look at Sole's face, or anywhere at them. Unbelievably awkward. Sole eventually confronts them, asking Piper if she hates them. Piper says. "Oh-uh. No? No. Don't worry about it blue!!!" And runs off.

Preston: Always. Blushing. Sole asks him if he's sunburnt, and he says no. Constantly asking Sole if they would take him with them to the next settlement because "I want to see the Minutemen's General recruit another settlement!" He's a liar. He wants to watch Sole fight. Sometimes, when it's late, he'll think about how likely it is that Sole wouldn't be interested in him.

X6-88: Stone cold. Doesn't blush. Denies it completely, but he can't help feeling drawn to Sole. They were a really good fighter and leader and definitely bound to lead the Institute to success but... it would just be wrong. Doesn't make a move at all.

[adampalharine-art]

Day 003

Foot clan ninjas begin to emerge from the shadows, just waiting for Mikey's command.

Leo: – Mikey… – the red-eared slider swallows hard looking at that number of ninjas, they could deal with them, but they didn't want to fight. – I don't know what you plan with this, but please… Let's just talk.

The little turtle tilts his head to the side as if the words didn't make sense to him, or as if a small creature was standing on his shoulder and telling him something very interesting, even more than what Leo had yet to say.

Mikey: – Talk? – his forehead wrinkles, his eyes go towards Rapha, noticing the consciousness still in them, which in a way makes him happy. But even though knowing that his brother had returned warmed his heart, he wasn't there for that. - Talk about what? You already made it very clear the other night that you are against me.

Donnie: – Don't be stupid Mikey. That night was just a misunderstanding! We're here wanting to make things right!

The turtle's forehead becomes even more marked by the apparent confusion.

Mikey: – Are you going to help me?

The three looked at each other, now they were the ones who were confused.

Raph: – Help with what Mikey?

Mikey: – Doing what we were created for! What we were trained for. – he smiles somewhat melancholy. – The rise of the youkai.

The speech hovers over them, like a toxic cloud. Donnie feels his stomach churning looking at his brother, wanting to go up to him and slap him or anything that would get that idea out of his head, that would get his father's doctrine out of the little one's mind, even by force, but it seemed that brainwashing had been worse on him.

That… was their fault.

Leo: – Mikey… – there was a lump stuck in his throat. – No… We no longer need to follow Draxun's doctrines… We…

Mikey: – That's what I thought. – the little one doesn't let his brother finish, raising his hand signaling for the ninjas to attack.

The three brothers draw their weapons, with no choice left now, besides entering the fight.

Leo: – Come on Mikey! Just listen to us!

Mikey: – If you don't want to help me with my goals! I won't listen to them.

Donnie – Seriously Angelo! Just stop for a second and listen to us!

Mikey – Why should I? You've already made it very clear that you don't want to help me! So if you're not with me, you're against me!

Rapha swallows hard, his brother was completely blinded by hatred. The oldest enters the fight against the youngest since he was the only one among the three who had truly awakened his powers. Taking care not to hurt him, even if the smaller one wasn't that worried about it. It takes a while, but he manages to trap him in a bear hug.

Rapha: – Please Mikey…- he asks in an almost tearful voice. - No more fights for no reason! Enough of this hate!

Mikey feels his ears ringing, he feels the back of his neck tingling as if golden eyes were looking at him and scolding him for being caught, for having failed. Again.

Mikey – YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND!!

He clenches his fists letting the magic flow through his body, opening the portal beneath them.

[jadeacereigen]

Claw Reigen? 👀

oh GOD I DON'T KNOW WHERE TO BEGIN WITH THIS

TIME TO LOOK AT MY OLD NOTES ABOUT HIM TO REFRESH MY MEMORY 😭

So Claw Reigen was this AU I came up with based on that moment in S1 where they make it seem like he's the Claw Boss. I never believed it for a second, but in my head I was kinda going "huh it would be an interesting au if it WAS true". Then I had my friend Parker watch the show and they genuinely fell for it and got super upset, so this made me come back to the random idea in my head and develop it more.

He's not the actual boss in my AU though, I made him a Scar instead because I thought that fit him better. Although he's a member of Claw's 5th division, no one has ever seen him use his powers and he still only describes them as "spiritual" when asked. Despite this, he is the 5th division's second-in-command and the leader Sakakibara obviously favors him despite him seemingly not contributing much to the group. This leads to rumors about Reigen being an incredibly weak esper or maybe even someone who isn't actually a Scar. (Because how could the Boss have respected his weak powers enough to spare his life after challenging him?)

None of these rumors are true, however...

(more details below sorry this got really long)

Reigen is certainly hiding many things from everyone in his life, including his fellow colleagues at Claw. But perhaps he's hiding the most from his disciple, Mob, who he is training to become a strong esper. He wears makeup to hide most of his scar when he's not interacting with Claw members, so Mob doesn't see his scar until... Season 1 events. Mob believes that Claw is a group of superheros whose mission is to make the world a better place. If he proves his worth, they'll allow him to join his ranks and become a fellow hero. However, as of now he is just an apprentice and is not allowed to meet any other members.

Claw is actually unaware of Mob's existence, and Reigen very much intends to keep it that way. In truth, he's not actually loyal to Claw, but he knows what he must do to survive. He's fully aware that his scar is not a badge of honor but is in fact a marker of his own unworthiness to Suzuki. Once Suzuki completes his world domination, Reigen knows that he and the other Scars will be disposed of, and he is determined to not let that happen. Somehow, Mob is a very important part of this plan...

In terms of personality, Reigen is similar to his canon lighthearted counterpart when he's with Mob. However, he can have a bit of a cruel streak—when he saves Mob from the S1 art gallery scammers, he intentionally sends an evil spirit to haunt them. He's also not the best role model and still smokes around Mob sometimes, though he'll awkwardly snuff it out and make a lot of excuses if Mob stares at him for too long or points out that it's bad for his health.

This is in stark contrast to how he is when Mob isn't around. The makeup he wears to hide his scar also hides his dark eyebags and stress lines on his face. He generally has a bored, heavy look to his face and doesn't smile. When he's with Claw, he sneers a lot and talks very condescendingly to make sure he doesn't look weak. (Also he just hates everyone there tbh-) People don't take him seriously, but the few who actually manage to piss Reigen off know that his sneer disappearing is a very bad thing.

(Another random but important fact that I'm not sure how to fit in here is that he never takes off his gloves.)

In summary, Scar Reigen is still very much a man of lies and self-serving deceit, just... in a far more twisted way than canon. He thinks he's long past redemption or changing his ways, but is that really true?

Anyway uh wow I talked a lot I'm not even sure if any of this makes any sense 😭 I was pretty into the idea of writing this au out as a fanfic last year but I quickly got stuck because I just couldn't figure out where to begin with it and what the structure of the story would even be like. I don't exactly see myself coming back to it but who knows. Idk