#they are powerful military couple fight me

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

How to train your pet Human pt.2 (Yandere!Alien X GN!Reader)

part 1, part 3

CW: Abduction, imprisonment, yandere themes, death, pet/owner relationship, tickle torture, humiliation, sexual themes, angst

"There they are~" Kirtch bent to pick (Reader) up, lifting them easily like a child and carrying them with one hand under their butt. (Reader's) face scrunched up in embarrassment. They were wearing an ugly shirt, both baggy and synched tightly, flowy around the body but locked in place like a neck corset at the top and wrists. When Kirtch first presented the tacky gift, (Reader) had ran to hide, forcing Kirtch to wrestle the outfit onto them.

With all of the unnecessary buttons and ties, (Reader) was incapable of taking it off themselves, and was now sulking.

"I have a lot of duties today that cannot be completed in my office, so I thought you might enjoy coming with me so you don't have to be couped up alone." Kirtch gently knocked his forehead into (Reader's).

'Escape chance, escape chance, escape chance-' "Yeah, that sounds nice." (Reader) tried to contain their excitement, consciously aware of their heart beating loudly in their chest.

"Wonderful! I've packed a couple of toys to keep you occupied if you get bored, as well as snacks." He replied happily, seeming so pleased with himself as he briskly walked down the hall from his bedroom towards the main hall. The two passed by many other aliens walking up and down the corridors, none of whom seemed to be the same species as Kirtch. Everyone wore the same cloak, standing them out from the creatures in the shopping district, a uniform slightly lighter in color than Kirtch's. Most would pause while walking to rub a hand over where their noses should have been, and Kirtch would raise a hand in response.

"What are they doing?" (Reader) whispered.

"It is a sign of respect. I am their superior, so if they are not in a rush to get somewhere they are greeting me."

Fear tickled (Reader's) spine. "Are you guys in the military?"

Kirtch laughed, a high pitch clicking sound that almost sounded like a broken music box. "No. I'm just an upper level leader in our trading company."

They arrived in front of a decorated wall, and Kirtch squeezed (Reader) a little while smiling. "Now this is a very important meeting, I need you to be as quiet as possible, okay?"

(Reader) huffed. "I'm not a child."

"I know you aren't. You're a very sweet pet, who is most definitely a grown adult human."

They felt humiliated. It had been almost a month since they were bought by Kirtch, and they did everything in their power to not anger him or appear as though they needed "release". (Reader) constantly watched and waited for the perfect escape attempt, while fighting off Kirtch's affections in as non threatening a way as possible. Like they were emulating a cat. (Reader's) skin burned, but they held back their tongue.

The wall opened, revealing a board room (at least that's what (Reader) assumed it was), a bare room only decorated with a long table surrounded by stools. Kirtch sat (Reader) on the floor and pulled out a sack from the inside of his cloak. While they didn't want to immediately act the part of a good pet, (Reader) was curious as to what was in the bag. The first thing they pulled out, however, was a taxidermied cat. (Reader's) eyes widened, and they couldn't contain their anxiety, shaking as they stared into the cat's glass eyes. Was this some kind of threat?

"Do you like it? I've been meaning to buy you more human toys, so I thought you would appreciate a stuffed animal." Realizing that the 'gift' was not malicious, the nervousness immediately dissolved into mental fatigue.

"Oh. I get it. Stuffed animal. Yeah." They put the animal back in the bag, hoping Kirtch didn't think their exhausted smile was permission to buy more dead bodies.

More aliens entered the room, greeting Kirtch before taking their seats. (Reader) couldn't understand what the meeting was about, since they were all speaking in Kirtch's native tongue, but their voices and faces were tense. The meeting went on for well over an hour, but (Reader) found it surprisingly entertaining, dubbing over their conversation inside their mind like Mystery Science Theater, chuckling with how wild their hand movements were. It was very human of them.

(Reader) fucked up, accidently snorting at one of the angrier aliens. Although they didn't understand the language, one of his sentences sounded awfully like "Pineapple farts", and with how intense his face was, it made it seem like he was describing how his ass felt. Their sound was so quiet it was almost inaudible, but the alien still noticed and spun his head in (Reader's) direction so quickly his exoskeleton creaked. (Reader) bit their lip to hide a smile, turning away from the conference to pretend to munch on their fruit (?) slices.

The irate alien began ranting louder, and (Reader) caught a word they had heard from a few of the underlings they had been introduced to. Bah-blk. Human.

Shit.

They snuck a glance towards the group very slowly to view Kirtch's expression, worried they may have angered him by interrupting the meeting. And indeed, his almost perfectly flat face was pulled into a scowl, but it wasn't aimed at (Reader).

"(Reader), pet, could you come here for a moment?"

His voice was light and smooth, as it always was when speaking to (Reader), but Kirtch's face was grave as he refused to break eye contact with the alien in front of him; said alien's shell glistened like he was sweating under Kirtch's glare. (Reader), not wanting to be punished later, left their spot on the floor and shuffled over to their owner. Kirtch pulled (Reader) into his lap the second they were within his reach, still staring daggers at the poor alien across the table.

He spoke to the offender, holding (Reader) lovingly with one arm as if to make a point. The man was panicked, waving his arms and sweating profusely, sounding apologetic. It wasn't enough, whatever it was he was saying. He referenced (Reader) as Bah-blk again, and then he was dead.

Before (Reader) could understand what it was that Kirtch had pulled out of his robe, a soundless shot was fired across the table, green blood splattering across the wall as the alien's head was pierced by some kind of projectile.

Everyone turned away, unsurprised by the killing. It was a lukewarm reaction, as though this wasn't the first time they witnessed someone die at Kirtch's hand. The body fell, head slamming into the table with a wet thud.

(Reader) didn't know what he had said, but to kill him... It was jarring. The young adult hadn't payed any attention to the tears dripping down their chin until Kirtch wiped them off. The roughness of his hand startled (Reader), making them flinch away from his touch.

For the rest of the meeting (Reader) couldn't pry their eyes away from the dead body lying across from them. It was a nightmare seemingly without an end, staring at a corpse while his murderer held (Reader) tenderly, rubbing his thumb on their side absentmindedly while discussing business with colleagues like it was a regular Tuesday.

If (Reader) was more aware, they would be disgusted with themselves for not fighting Kirtch as he picked them up to go back to their room, but they just wanted to go back to the safety of their *bed*, and couldn't force their brain to focus on anything else.

The bed was more like a twin sized pillow nestled in a metal cage, but it was soft and felt secure, like when (Reader) was young and thought that hiding under their blanket would protect them from the shadow people in their closet.

"Are you alright, (Reader)?" Kirtch asked, his voice full of concern.

(Reader) curled up, pulling the blanket tight over their face.

Kirtch sighed, and crouched down by (Reader's) bed. "(Reader), please don't be upset with me. If this is about my colleague, please know that what I did was necessary."

"Murder is never necessary."

"He tried to accuse me of not being.. as invested in the job as I should be. And that the reason for my lack of dedication was you. He used very strong language." Kirtch placed a hand on (Reader's) back. "I told him not to disrespect you. Yet he continued."

(Reader) began crying, shaking under Kirtch's touch. "Are you saying that I'm the reason he's dead?"

"Oh, pet.." Kirtch sighed again, pulling (Reader) out of the fetal position and into his arms. "I've always been incredibly interested in humanity. When I was a young child, there was a 'book' in my father's study about primitive species, and that's how I learned about humans. Did you know that you and I experience life differently from one another? Our brains function differently. We have different pain receptors; our brains' physiology are almost nothing alike; the diseases humans are capable of developing simply for existing are concepts we've never had to worry about. Even how we perceive the color spectrum, humans are so unlike any other sentient species I have met."

"I was so fascinated by Earth, especially by humans. We are not allowed to visit Earth as it is a restricted area, so much of what we know is recorded knowledge from captured defectors. My chances of meeting a human were next to none. Then, we had to dock in Dol-Hu, a shady planet only inhabited by criminals and those in hiding. And wandering through the market, I saw you."

"The one thing I've always wanted, for the past seventy years, I recognized you as a human immediately, even though you were so much cuter than I could have expected. You're so soft, and fragile, in comparison to my armoured flesh. You were bent over, but I knew from descriptions I had memorized what you were. As one who has always loved Earth, I am fluent in every Earth language we know of, so I was excited to communicate with you. I was so eager to have a piece of humanity. And now here you are."

(Reader) rolled over, their heart clenching painfully as they looked up into Kirtch's sadly smiling face. "I wonder what I look like through your eyes."

Their heart began doing somersaults in their throat as the tears continued flowing.

"You may have been the only human I've ever known, but I can say with confidence that you must have been the best humanity had to offer. I only want to give you the best life possible."

(Reader) wrapped their arms around Kirtch's midsection, sobbing loudly. His body didn't bend or squish under the full strength of (Reader's) embrace. And that was how (Reader) fell asleep, crying themselves into a nap.

When they awoke, they were alone, lying in the bed with the cat tucked into their arms. (Reader) left the room to find Kirtch at his desk, working on paperwork. The giant heard (Reader) behind him, and turned his attention on them, smiling as he held out his arms in an offer to pick them up. And much to his surprise, (Reader) willingly entered into his embrace, and allowed him to set them on his lap without pouting or making a fuss.

"I have a few more documents to look over, then I can play with you, okay?"

"Okay." Their voice was quiet and monotone, (Reader's) mind still fuzzy from crying so much before falling asleep.

"Are you still upset? Is there anything I can do to make you happy?"Kirtch laid down his work, trapping (Reader) in his arms.

"No.. you can continue working."

"You're more important than my work. I consider your unhappiness to be a crises."

Worry began to prick at (Reader's) skin. "I'm really fine, we don't need to play!"

"Need?"

Memories of the day (Reader) was bought flashed through their mind, causing them to go red and hot as they started to squirm in Kirtch's embrace. "I-I- didn't mean it like that!"

One hand left (Reader's) body to grab something from Kirtch's desk. "Don't fret, I recently purchased a new toy I thought would bring you joy."

(Reader's) eyes bulged out as they froze in anticipation, their heart hammering in their chest. But what Kirtch retrieved did not appear safe to go near any genitalia, a strange contraption formed of multiple thin prongs on a handle. Embarrassed that they had assumed something sexual was about to happen, (Reader) bit the inside of their cheek, puzzling over the strange discomfort they were feeling. "What's that?"

Kirtch raised (Reader's) shirt, and dragged the device across their skin, causing an involuntary shudder. It tickled.

"Ah! No!" (Reader) accidentally laughed, trying to push Kirtch away. He trailed the toy from their pelvic area visible above their pants to their left armpit. The light tingling sensation forcibly clenched their stomach muscles as they let loose a howl of laughter.

They couldn't breathe correctly, laughing so hard that their spasming abdominals made it feel like they were choking. But they couldn't stop, begging Kirtch to "knock it off" while their cheeks hurt from the smile they had. That damn toy tickled every inch of their body, not even noticing when Kirtch removed their pants. They kicked futilely, unable to break free from the assault. Their sensitive skin was almost becoming painful to the touch, but the laughter only got louder.

"pleASE! KIRTCH, stop!!" (Reader) heaved. Their whole body felt tender, highly reactive to each touch. Which made them aware of the fact that the only thing separating them from Kirtch's lap was a thin pair of underpants. With how they had been writhing on his lap, they were relieved that Kirtch didn't seem to have a dick that could become aroused from such movements.

(Reader's) smile fell. I have no idea how Kirtch's species reproduces. Maybe he can get erections, but he won't get one for me because he sees me as a pet. An animal. Their heart turned to concrete as it dropped out of its cage.

Kirtch halted his attack when he saw (Reader) go limp. "Are you tuckered out, pet?"

(Reader) tried to slide off his lap like jelly. "I'm done playing. I want to go back to bed."

"Alright, my stubborn little grump, what is it now? You were all smiles but a second ago, so what is it plaguing your mind?"

They tried to scrunch up their nose to prevent more tears from sheepishly forming. "I'm not a pet. I'm a human. I want to be treated like an equal!"

Kirtch's smile was replaced by a hurt scowl. "Is it so unpleasant being my pet?"

"No!" (Reader) interjected, not understanding why it pained them so much to see Kirtch upset, "I just want to, I just.. I don't know. This is confusing, and it feels.. weird. You're really nice to me, and sometimes it feels like... but then other times you treat me like I'm a cat. This isn't what I want. Either be a bastard and treat me like an animal or treat me like-" Their words caught in their throat. Treat me like what?!

A fearful kiss was placed on their forehead, ghostly with hardly any pressure. Kirtch's hands trembled on (Reader's) sides. "All I wish is to adore you for the rest of your life."

He pulled (Reader) into his chest, petting their back in a comforting manner. "I'll give you anything you ask for, I'll do anything you ask of me. Just to keep you happy, with me. You are all that I've ever wanted. All I wish is to care for you, and spend all my attention on you. If there is anything you want, please ask me. I need you to love me."

(Reader) felt so confused. Like a squid was destroying their gut, everything was uncomfortable and scary. They knew that Kirtch viewed them as a pet, he loved them how (Reader) loved their family dog as a child. But when they heard him begging for their love, it made them wish for an odd moment that he wasn't an alien. That (Reader) was sitting on their boyfriend's lap right now, a strange human man who sometimes infantalized them but only out of affection. Why couldn't this be simple? Why did (Reader) want him to kiss them right at that moment?

"I want to go home. I want to meet someone kind and fall in love." (Reader's) words stabbed Kirtch in places he never knew could hurt.

"I can't do that, (Reader)..." Kirtch's embrace constricted almost painfully tight. "You're all I've ever wanted. You can't ask me to let you go. I'll take such good care of you, you'll see. I have the rest of your life to make you fall in love with me."

They sat there, holding one another in agonizing silence, both loving each other in a way that they couldn't explain. The way their brains functioned didn't just mean that Kirtch could see a wider range of colors than (Reader), but the way their species experienced love was too vastly different for the other to comprehend. Despite Kirtch wanting to own (Reader), that was the greatest love he had ever felt, since his species did not pair bond and only mated when two beings agreed amicably that they wished to procreate. He knew that humans felt many forms of love, love for a mate, love for their offspring, love for a friend.. but to something that never felt any of those forms of love, Kirtch couldn't understand the difference between them.

"I love you, my little pet. And I will always love you."

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Ramming Speed

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

The idea of ramming space ships into each other as a form of combat maneuver was beyond many galactic military minds comprehension.

A single spacecraft, let alone a military grade class vessel, would cost up in the billions of credits. Entire galactic economies had nearly bankrupted themselves trying to maintain a fleet large enough to secure their borders, so in turn each military ship became an asset not to be squandered lightly.

Perhaps it was this conservative mindset that nearly shattered when these powers first looked upon the Terran ship codenamed “The Ram”.

Unlike other modern vessels the ships of this new classification lacked all weapon emplacements. No energy cannons, missile launchers, rail guns; it was entirely free of weapons. What it did have was excessive amounts of armor plating, several separate shield generators, and a pair of overly powerful engines that could reach max speed in roughly five minutes.

The first time it was observed in combat was during the Terran/Crux war. Both powers had sizable fleets at their disposal and for the first couple months the two powers played cat and mouse games between each other; each trying to find a more advantageous position to commit their forces. Much to the dismay of both powers the first large scale battle was triggered by mere chance than a tactical decision.

A Crux patrol stumbled upon a Terran patrol emerging from a dense nebula in the Viper System. Both patrols requested reinforcements. Nearby patrols were soon diverted to the engagement and within short order what was a small skirmish ballooned into a full scale battle.

There were no battle lines or frontlines as ships opened fire at near point blank range with each other. Even when higher rank Admirals arrived to take charge both sides were too embroiled in the slugfest to make any more nuanced tactical moves without exposing themselves to the enemy.

It was here that the Ram emerged and showed its prowess.

Crux warship crews were not trained on how to handle enemy vessels rushing towards them. What’s more several gun crews became panicked when they saw the Ram ships rushing headlong towards them without diverting course.

With the extra armor and shielding the Terran ships not only struck head on into Crux ships but emerged from the attack relatively unscathed. In most cases the prow of the Ram ships punched clean through the entire hull of the Crux warship and emerged through the other side.

The Crux fleet desperately tried to regain order and form battle lines but each time they did so the Ram ships would plunge head first into their formation and take out the command ship coordinating the effort.

As more and more Terran ships arrived and formed their own battle lines the tide of battle soon drastically changed. After thirteen hours of intense fighting the last of the Crux fleet withdrew from the battle leaving the Terrans the victors.

A full fifth of the Crux navy was lost during the battle with the Ram ships having personally claimed 45% of the kills.

While the war itself would continue for another two years, the Ram ships and their unorthodox tactics had earned them a modicum of respect from the wider galaxy, and a great measure of fear from the Crux.

[introvert-slushie]

Eddie’s growth

I haven’t seen a bunch of people talking about this.

Eddie is starting to grow back into his confident self!

As much as I am all for seeing this loser be realistic and an actual man who shows his emotions. He is starting to be more “badass” in certain scenes I’m seeing in Venom: The Last Dance trailer.

Of course, the first scene, Eddie says, “You should probably know…that I have a really dark and unpredictable side to me.” rather than before he would be like, “Yeah, I have a parasite.”

No, he’s accepting now that Venom is apart of him. Is a perfect match for him, from when he said in Let There Be Carnage: “Look they aren’t a match, we are.”

“I’m giving you a chance, sweetie.”

“Say when.” “When.”

Eddie doesn’t look scared at all during these scenes. He fully trusts Venom to protect and save him when he’s in trouble. He doesn’t even flinch when the guy cuts him with a blade!

“We are Venom.” The infamous line, Eddie trying to be badass and Venom being Venom.

Venom is letting Eddie fight a guy too!

Later on we see Eddie fighting against a military man underwater with the help of Venom and Eddie jumping off a railing to save people. Eddie didn’t even seem to think before jumping, just he jumped into action. He has a fear of heights with makes this more better for his growth.

I’m excited to see all these action moments!

And to add, Eddie is letting Venom eat more bad guys! I cannot wait to see these two start to become a more power couple dynamic.

They still bicker, but I am hoping for more emotional and connecting moments between them this time, more than humor.

[spaghettioverdose]

how did u went from anarchism to ml question mark

I was just going to write a couple paragraphs but I basically ended up writing a novel so I'm going to put a keep reading link here for my everyone's sanity.

Tl;dr: I became disillusioned with liberalism, became ancom, saw many silly takes and analysis that felt incomplete, became disillusioned with ancom, learned more about ml, went "this makes way more sense, has been applied in real life and has also helped many millions of people", became an ml.

I became an anarchist when I was in my late teens. I was already disillusioned with liberalism, and while I was sympathetic to socialism because I come from a formerly socialist country and grew up with stories about it from my grandmother, I was still of wary of it. Partially due to some of the genuinely bad things that happened during it and partially due to the immense amounts of anti-communist propaganda I was constantly bombarded with growing up. Then I found anarcho-communism which to me at the time seemed like "communism with none of the bad stuff".

I got into it, I watched ancom youtubers, I read Kropotkin, Graeber, Bakunin, I joined online ancom communities etc.

Slowly, over time I started becoming disillusioned with ancoms.I found myself having to defend marxist-leninist projects a lot (mostly from usamericans) against some very silly cold war anticommunist propaganda a lot. Such as the idea that everyone was just miserable and trying to escape the country or brainwashed by the leader's cult of personality.

Keep in mind that I myself ate up a lot of anticommunist propaganda growing up, but I also come from a formerly socialist country and had someone who was around during the socialist era of my country to ground my view of it in reality to some extent. Most of the ancoms in these communities only had the propaganda.

I also didn't like the way so many of these people talked more about an idealised, aestheticised, romanticised and abstract idea of revolution, and especially past failed anarchist revolutions, rather than talking about the material results of revolution.

Even when I still was mostly convinced by anarchist theory, I still found anarchist analysis to be incomplete and lacking predictive power and real world practice. Other anarchists tended to excuse the fact we didn't have a lot of revolutions and that the vast majority of them were crushed within their first couple years by saying things like "we were up against everyone" or "we were betrayed" which didn't really hold up. The bolsheviks had to fight everyone as well and yet they still won. Same with the Chinese communists who were also against massive internal and external threats. This is because in both cases they had popular support and were capable of analysing the material conditions and formulating policies based on that.

Another rebuttal was that every socialist revolution was state capitalism because it didn't adhere to a very simplified definition of socialism. I thought that lacked nuance and in the end it mattered to me less than the fact that it got results and helped millions of people, but it didn't prevent me from internalising this to some extent. I did (for at least some time) think that most ml states were incomplete revolutions that eventually fell to state capitalism.

When I did believe to these ideas I often fell into pits of despair, as did other ancoms, over the fact that in our world view, communism was essentially entirely defeated and at best we (as anarchists) had two current revolutions: the Zapatista (a group who follows marxist theory, refuses to call itself anarchis and controls a very small region and only due to an agreement with the government) and Rojava (who also controls a small region, is a military ally of the US and has a constitution which guarantees private property and definitely fits the anarchist definition of a state).

The holes in anarchist theory became even larger and more apparent to me once I started reading Marx and Lenin. The contrast in the explanatory and predictive power of dialectical materialism against the philosophical idealism of anarchist analysis eroded my remaining trust in anarchism very quickly.

Anarchist analysis severely lacked much class analysis beyond "people do evil things to each other because of the profit incentive of capitalism" and "power wants to hold onto power" which while in some ways is correct, it is vastly incomplete. Which is why the conclusion of this analysis, that after an anarchist revolution the profit incentive would simply be gone and so would reactionaries, also felt incomplete.

As it turns out it's also historically been proven wrong. Revolution doesn't stop when the civil war ends and that capitalists (even if disposessed) don't suddenly stop being reactionary and don't suddenly stop being a danger to the revolution.

However many anarchists also viewed historical events in a vacuum and lacked any sort of tools for materialist analysis and therefore came to silly conclusions about why things happened the way they did.

Many propositions on how an anarchist society would run resembled some variation of Old West homesteading, medieval peasant communes or some other strange individualist fantasies.

In the end I realised about anarchism that it entirely resembled the philosophically idealist utopian communism of old. A form of communism that lost the debate against the scientific communism of Marx, Engles and Lenin over a century ago and there is no reason to engage with it in the present day.

[helenofsparta2]

Rick did Jason Grace so dirty in HoO

Before I explain, I think I should establish that I really like Jason as a character. While he isn’t one of my favourites, he has really grown on me over the last couple of years. But he never really had a shot with the fandom, after his introduction in The Lost Hero, and after Son of Neptune and a lot of that has to do with the way Rick set him up for failure from the very beginning with a variety of writing decisions. The odds were really stacked against him.

Let’s first recap the very base of who Jason Grace is. He had an unstable mother, who gave him up to Juno when he was two years old, so that she could claim him as her champion. He is the only demigod child of Jupiter, and grew up raised by wolves, then later raised in a relatively strict military hierarchy since a very early age without any knowledge of his mortal family. He had to deal with all the pressure and expectations that came with who his father is. Over time he managed to become one of the two leaders of said hierarchy and has been committed to change its society for the better ever since. He led Camp Jupiter in the titan war and managed to defeat the titan Krios with his bare hands,  He is the long-lost brother of Thalia Grace, one of the more popular characters from the PJO book. He is extremely kind, protective, and loyal, and one of the most powerful demigods in the Riordan verse.

This should have easily made him into a fan favourite character. But what happened instead was for him to become the least favorite member of the seven, to be considered boring and skippable by a lot of fans, and to even get a lot of haters. (I know especially here on tumblr a lot of people really love Jason, but I’m talking about the more general part of the fandom, and I don’t think anyone can deny that Jason gets quite a lot of hate there.)

So, what went wrong?

I think there are three main reasons for the dislike he receives.

Telling, and not showing on part of Rick’s writing

A constant forced comparison with Percy

A lacking character arc in the hoo books

Let’s start with the first one.

Telling, and not showing

Piper’s and Leo’s POVs did him a huge disservice in that regard in the lost hero. During the entirety of the book, Piper wore rose-tinted glasses when it came to him. There is barely a chapter without her glazing Jason, or commenting on his looks or generally how perfect he is. Leo deals with a lot of insecurities and, while not as extreme as Piper, puts Jason also on a pedestal in his chapters. This was, for one, quickly becoming repetitive, but also put a lot of expectations on Jason, which are impossible to meet for any character.

It doesn’t help that Jason didn’t achieve all that many impressive feats in The Lost Hero. He didn’t do nothing, but in comparison to Leo and Piper, he gets a bit overshadowed.

Leo pretty early on established himself as a mathematic genius. He repairs Festus, saves Piper and Jason from the cyclops, and fights against Khione at the Wolf’s house.

Piper uses her charm speak to convince Boreas and his sons to let them go, frees Leo and Jason from Medea’s control, breaks Hera’s cage together with Leo, and is able to revive Jason after he accidentally looked at Juno in her divine form.

Jason, meanwhile, defeats a venti at the Grand Canyon and saves Piper’s life, defeats Lityerses and Midas, and defeats Encaladeus with the help of Zeus.

Don’t get me wrong. Those are great accomplishments and put Jason at the very top of the demigod power hierarchy, but with the way everyone talks about him, and with the standards we already have for children of the big three as readers of PJO, he just falls a bit short. Especially when you focus on top of that on other moments in that book where he gets knocked out by the cyclops or looks unprompted at Juno in her divine form, to list a few examples.

Despite this, his actions and abilities would have probably still made him into a fan-favourite character, if there wouldn’t have been this constant comparison with Percy.

A forced Comparison

Jason and Percy are getting compared in the hoo books in a very obvious way. They are set up as equals by Rick with its entire premise in the first two books and the weird rivalry thing he wrote in Mark of Athena, which is, I think, the main reason why Jason is so disliked.

Percy Jackson is probably the most popular character within the Riordan verse. The only characters who even come close are Nico di Angelo, Leo Valdez, and maybe Annabeth Chase. He is the main character for the entire prequel series, and had much more time to develop and for the readers to get attached to than any other character.

This was a lost battle, even before the first chapter of the lost hero was written. By the time, Percy and Jason meet, Percy was the main character, or at least one of the main characters, in 11 adventures, if you include the short stories, while Jason was one of three POV characters in a single book. A book, where he had amnesia for the entirety of it. People are protective of their favourite characters, and if you make a direct comparison between the most popular character in your franchise and some new guy, even (try to) establish them as equals and force them to have a rivalry, people are naturally going to develop a dislike for the new guy.

And Rick certainly didn’t help matters with the way he wrote them.

At the end of the lost hero, Hera tells Jason, that he is going to be the leader of the seven, but we know he isn’t. We, as readers, who have followed Annabeth and Percy since they were 12 years old, know that he doesn’t deserve this role, judging by what we have seen of him.

Even if he were to be portrayed as strong as Percy in the following books, it would feel undeserved. While we have seen Percy fight the many monsters and titan’s he did in the PJO books, and seen his growth in both power and character, we only get told that Jason defeated Krios with his bare hands. There isn’t even a flashback in either his or Reyna’s POV chapters of the incident, which could have at least elevated this accomplishment.

And then, Rick publishes Son of Neptune and every possibility of Jason being on the same level as Percy gets instantly flung out of the window.

Percy is the MVP of that book. Frank and especially Hazel are awesome, absolutely no discussion there, but for me at least, Son of Neptune was really Percy’s time to shine.  (Though I have to admit, I’m pretty biased towards Percy, so that statement is probably really subjective.)

Even before he leaves for the quest, Percy already killed one gorgon, demolished the romans in the war games, sees through Octavius’ performance, figures out what happened with the golden eagle and proves his selflessness by choosing not to take the gorgon blood to recover his memories. Then later he tricks Phineas in what is for me one of the coolest moments in the entirety of hoo, fights an entire army, destroys a glazier, defeats Polybotes basically by himself and, again, makes a fool out of Octavius in front of the senate, and all that after Rick already nerved him by removing the curse of Achilles.

Comparing especially the fights against Polybotes, and Enceladus respectively does Jason absolutely no favors.

Jason fought good, he fought greatl even, he had this very cool moment with his speech explaining who he was and boasting of his accomplishments, but in the end, his weapon got destroyed and he had to pray to his father to kill Enceladeus with a lighting bolt. That was an amazing feat for a demigod, absolutely no discussion, but really pales in comparison to Percy’s fight at the end of Son of Neptune.  

Percy absolutely bodied Polybotes. I don’t even know if he received a single injury in this fight. The “help” he received from a god was him smashing the decapitated head of Terminus into Polybotes. Like, Terminus didn’t do shit in that fight.

You can’t describe two characters as being equals and then portray so huge differences in their accomplishments.

Yes, Hazel and Frank also often say that Percy is powerful, or a good leader, or handsome, or smart, in a similar way to how Piper and Leo describe Jason, but with Percy it feels more like a reward as a reader. Because we have already seen him be all of that in the original books. It’s just acknowledgement and no new information.

Also, the absolute dissonance between Jason’s disappearance and camp Jupiter’s reaction also doesn’t help him. How can we believe that he is a leader of the same calibre as Percy, when most of the people in the camp he has lived in since he was four years old, don’t even care that much about his disappearance and are so quick to replace him? (Even worse, they replaced him with Percy) I know that this is just the way, Camp Jupiter works, but simply as a narrative choice, it’s very questionable.  

A lacking Character Arc & Amnesia

Coming to the last point. Jason’s character arc in the entirety of Hoo fell flat to me (Though, to be fair, most character arcs, if they even existed, fell flat to me in Hoo.)

His predominant character arc is him struggling with his identity, between being a roman or a greek. Now, this would be a very compelling arc, if we’d know who Jason Grace was as a roman. But we don’t. We know close to nothing about Jason’s life in New Rome. The only meaningful relationship he apperantly had was with Reyna, and he barely thinks about her in his povs, and even in Reyna’s chapters in boo we barely find out about their friendship. The entire camp turns against him in Mark of Athena. By the end of Boo, he still has not regained his entire memory, and never really confronted his past as a praetor. This is not a full, or satiscfactory character arc.

There are many other points I could name, like his relationship with Piper, or how him being Thalia's brother came completely out of the blue, or how he didn't built any meaningful relationship with characters who weren't Piper or Leo in the four books he's been in, but, to be honest, this post is already getting too long.

I'm just frustrated because he could have been one of the coolest characters in the Riordan verse, but he was really sat up to fail.  

[buildgrist]

I wrote this last year on Twitter, but since Empty Spaces has sort of abandoned ship, I'll post it here too:

"Funeral"

A woman's whole life changes the first time she sees a combat doll.

First-person, combat doll setting by Twitter user mars_phobos_L1

CW: Harassment, violence, military context, blood, personality changes, conditioning, surgery, unreliable memory

Story below cut:

1.

I washed out of combat training almost immediately, but it wasn’t enough to get me off the hook. I’m sure you all know how it goes – just because you can’t fight doesn’t mean you can’t support the ones who do. If you can’t carry a gun, you can fix a gun, if you can’t fly a plane, you can fuel a plane.

Nothing wrong with that, of course! It’s simply efficient use of resources, and I’m certainly in no place to criticize that, especially not given my current status, so to speak. But even then I wasn’t exactly bothered by it -- I would have rather not been conscripted at all, but maintenance would be safe and interesting and I was already pretty good at it.

2.

The first time I ever saw a combat doll was when I was at the range, trying to get in enough practice to pass my pistol qualifications. I didn’t even know she was there, at first - there was no fuss, no fanfare - but as soon as her handler started barking those sharp, staccato orders I realized what was going on.

I looked over, of course. I know, we’ve all been taught not to make eye contact with the dolls because they might take it as aggression, but how could I not be curious? Can any of you say you wouldn’t be tempted to take a peek?

I hadn’t expected her to not be wearing her mask. All the publicity photos, all the technical diagrams, all the battlefield footage always shows dolls with their masks on, so I assumed that was just their usual state – but no, I was wrong. That was her natural face, with her implant jacks and her surgical scars and her delicate-looking skin. I truly hadn’t expected her to be so pretty…

She caught me looking, of course. Dolls are the apex predators of the battlefield, and noticing a maintenance trainee staring at her was trivial in comparison. She met my eyes before I could look away, and then I couldn’t look away. I knew nothing except her eyes and my heart pounding in my ears, and I had no idea what was coming next… and then she grinned at me.

That grin did something to me, something strange and frightening and wonderful. It felt like lightning running down my spine, like watching a sunrise after being blind my whole life, like finding my way out of a forest I’d been lost in since birth. I was never the same again.

3.

I needed to know who she was, of course. She could pick off targets faster than my eyes could follow, with a perfect bullseye every time. Her handler ran her through everything in our arsenal, and more besides - pistols, rifles, machine guns, throwing knives, on and on - and she was perfect every time. How could I have not wanted to know more after watching a display like that?

Well, apparently, that made me the weird one in the battalion. Everyone I asked about her just shrugged or gave me sidelong glances. Why would they want to keep track of which doll was which, they asked? They were all equally frightening, after all. What did it matter what the shark swimming next to you was named?

It took more than a week - and a couple cases of beer - for me to find out who I’d seen. My buddy on the security team had seen the handler’s name and done some quick research, and he was willing to pass on that information… for the right price, of course.

Victoria. Her name was Victoria, and the next thing he said to me was “be fuckin’ careful around that one,” which didn’t make a whole lot of sense to me at the time. We’re taught to use caution around all dolls, combat or not, why the extra warning?

Because, he told me, there were stories about the Victory-class dolls. They weren’t the fastest dolls or the most powerful dolls, but they were notoriously unpredictable, and dangerous even to their allies. I won’t get into the details right now, that’s not what I’m here to do - but some of your classmates went pale the moment I said her name, so ask them about it later.

But what did that have to do with Victoria? I had to ask, because I used to be a little slow on the uptake sometimes. In case any of you haven’t put all the pieces together: Victoria is the first Victory-class, the flagship, the template upon which all others were modeled – and that meant if there was some fault with the Victory-class dolls, some flaw in their design or their conditioning, Victoria would definitely have it.

4.

Even with all he’d told me, and all I’d learned on my own afterwards, I still couldn’t get her off my mind. Not that I was thinking about her every second, or even every day, but that moment never quite left my mind. I’d lay down and try to sleep, close my eyes, and behind my eyelids I’d see that bare face, that grin, and my heart would start pounding all over again.

By the time we were given our assignments, I knew what I was going to do. I knew what I had to do. I got the cushiest possible position – 8th Supply Battalion, well away from any combat zones, where the greatest danger would be a private driving a forklift drunk. The perfect position to serve out three years of compulsory service and go back to my old life, right?

Except I didn’t want it. I hadn’t wanted it since the moment I’d seen her.

As soon as we were dismissed, I went straight to the commander’s office and asked for a transfer – which they don’t usually do, of course, but he was willing to hear me out anyway, so I told him I needed to be on Victoria’s maintenance crew. Once he was done laughing he asked me what I was really there to ask for, and I repeated my request. I explained to him that I was serious, that I wanted, needed more than anything else, to be assigned to maintenance for Victoria.

He didn’t understand – which is no surprise, because I don’t think any of you do either. Why would I have wanted to be transferred to the only role that had higher casualty rates than front-line infantry, right? Truth be told, I didn’t understand either, and I still don’t. There’s nothing I can point to, no specific reason, just this surety that I belonged there and nowhere else.

Someone needed to do maintenance on the dolls, right? Why shouldn’t it be someone enthusiastic about it, someone fully committed to their role? I don’t know if my argument won him over or if he was just tired of listening to me, but in the end he just shrugged and wrote out my transfer orders: maintenance crew, Victory-class combat doll “Victoria”.

I still remember what he said when he handed me the orders:

“It’s your funeral.”

5.

Just because I’d volunteered for the position didn’t mean I was any less nervous when I first reported for duty! The rest of the crew had already been giving me a hard time - I was the squeaky-clean new girl, fresh out of training - but honestly, they weren’t why I was nervous. That was just some laughs and some hazing, nothing I wasn’t used to by that point.

No, I was nervous because of the six-plus feet of exquisite purpose-built killing machine standing in the middle of the maintenance bay.

The thing is, though.. the reasonable thing would have been to worry that Victoria was going to kill me, right? That’s what you’d be afraid of, that’s what any sensible person would be afraid of! But it wasn’t what I was afraid of.

I’d done my research, I knew the numbers, and I was certain - beyond the slightest shadow of a doubt - that I wasn’t going to survive three years in her maintenance crew. I’d made my peace with that before I ever even walked into the commander’s office.

I was worried that Victoria wasn’t going to like me.

6.

I know that probably sounds bizarre to you - after all, nobody worries about whether their tank likes them, right? - but trust me, it was absolutely the biggest thing on my mind. So much so, in fact, that I decided to introduce myself to her immediately! Why hang around hiding behind the rest of the maintenance crew when I could just walk right up to her and make a good first impression instead?

So that’s exactly what I did. Right into the maintenance bay, right past the rest of the crew, right across those painted lines on the floor… one foot in front of the other, listening to the pounding of my heart until I was within arm’s length of an active combat doll.

I took one more deep breath, accepted that it could have been my last, and gave her the usual introduction: name, rank, and role. She just stared at me, with those intense eyes I remembered so well, and I offered a little bit of extra politeness – just a simple little “I look forward to working with you, ma’am.”

7.

The moment the words were out of my mouth, she grabbed me by the collar and dragged me in, my body pressed up against hers, and as I stared up at her in shock and fear and excitement, I heard her voice for the first time.

“You’re cute,” she said.

There were teeth in my neck before I could even make sense of her words - combat-specced teeth, the kind that can slice through bone - and it was unbearably painful… but also something about it felt right. I was helpless in her grip, completely powerless, and I realized that I’d wanted that all along.

I saw her true face for the first time, then. That flat, blank non-expression she’d been wearing when I walked up to her had simply been another mask, another disguise… and she’d let it fall away. As she licked my blood from her lips, I understood – she was a hunter, a predator, hungry for more and strong enough to take whatever she wanted… and I was her prey.

I suspect your instructor would kick me out of this class immediately if I described what she did next, so I’ll just say ‘she had her way with me and I had no desire to stop her.’ You’ll have to use your imaginations for the rest… or come find me sometime and I’ll be happy to tell you all about it!

8.

Anyway, even though it seemed like I’d made an excellent impression on Victoria, the rest of the maintenance crew was pretty clear that I’d made a pretty poor impression on them. As soon as we were off-duty and the dolls had all been escorted back to their bunker, they made their feelings known in a very direct fashion.

I got off easy, they told me, pointing out maintenance staff for other dolls. One man had a bloody bandage where his ear had been, and another was completely unresponsive – just blankly staring at a wall. In comparison to things like that, a bite and some fucking was downright gentle for a Victory-class doll!

The crew insisted that I’d better not expect special treatment from Victoria to mean they’d give me special treatment too – I protested that I’d never once expected that, but I don’t think they were listening to me by that point. From all the shouts and cursing, it seemed like they were upset that I, the death-wish rookie who walked right up to a combat doll and introduced herself, had been treated more gently than maintenance staff who simply wanted to carry out their duties safely.

I tried to answer them, I tried to explain that all I’d done was to be friendly and polite, that I’d just wanted to treat Victoria with the respect she deserved. They didn’t like that answer.

Nobody told me about this, so I’ll pass it on as a warning to you just in case: maintenance crews aren’t just wary of their dolls, they’re downright resentful of them. From their perspective, the dolls are the thing that stands between them and getting home safely, and they’re not particularly fond of people who see the situation differently.

I, not knowing this, made some helpful comments about the dolls not being our enemy, about our purpose being to support the dolls so they can carry out their Purpose. Shortly thereafter, in a totally unrelated event, I slipped and fell down a staircase – completely by accident, of course.

I’d been hoping that the maintenance crew - and the staircase - had gotten all the vitriol out of their system by then, but it only got worse. Someone had found out that I’d volunteered for the maintenance crew, while they’d all been unwillingly forced into that position, and it was all over. That was all the proof they needed to decide I wasn’t like them in some indescribable way. They might not have been able to explain how, exactly, I was different from them, but they all agreed that I was, and they all wanted to make that my problem.

9.

I next saw Victoria for post-mission diagnostics two days later. The procedures would be routine, and yet the crew was far more anxious than they had been for our previous visit to the maintenance bay. A doll just back from an operation, having spent only a few minutes being gentled by its handler before being sent off to maintenance, was the most dangerous kind of doll as far as the maintenance staff was concerned: all keyed up on adrenaline and battle stimulants and potentially unsure as to whether or not it was actually safe or still on the battlefield.

The crew all talked like they were off to the firing squad, and I had no idea what to expect as we all walked down to the hall… especially when they all hung back, in ones and twos and threes, lagging behind me while I walked up to the maintenance bay first.

I was the tribute, the offering, the fresh meat tossed to Victoria to sate her hunger - and oh, did she ever take the bait. She ran to me, snatched me right off the ground, and sprinted back to her designated zone as if to convince everyone she’d never left.. except now she had me clutched in her arms, her deadly teeth tracing up and down my neck, that beautiful voice giggling in my ear.

The maintenance team had to conduct their diagnostics around me, in the end. Victoria simply didn’t want to give me up, no matter how they tried to convince her -- and I had absolutely no desire to argue with that. Where could I possibly have wanted to be more than her arms?

In fact, I didn’t want to leave her arms. Even once our duty shift was done and she’d turned me loose, bloody and weary and deeply content, I lingered in the maintenance bay as the others fled for the mess. I knew what was waiting for me there - the same thing that had been waiting for me since I first met Victoria - and I wanted to avoid it for as long as possible.

10.

I hadn’t expected her to notice me hanging around - surely I was unworthy of her attention, right? - and yet, as I lingered behind, she spoke to me for the second time. “Not joining them?”

“No ma’am,” I told her, quietly enough for nobody else to hear. I hadn’t meant to say anything else, but the prospect of having a sympathetic ear was just too much, and the words just tumbled out of me. As she stared down at me with that blank expression, I explained how the crew had decided I didn’t belong, and how they’d been treating me since – the punches, the kicks, the fish in my bunk, the thousand other little reminders that they’d decided to hate me.

Eventually I ran out of words and found myself simply staring up at Victoria. She hadn’t said a single thing the entire time, and her expression was the same unreadable blankness that I’d seen before. While I tried to figure out whether she was sympathetic or simply bored, I suddenly realized that she’d met my gaze, staring into my eyes as if she was looking for something. I couldn’t imagine what she was looking for - and, truth be told, I still don’t know what it was - but I stared back up at her and let her look for it.

I guess she found what she was looking for - or perhaps found an absence of the wrong things - because she simply grabbed me by the arm and practically dragged me right out of the maintenance bay. What was she doing? Where was she going? She ignored my questions, of course, so I stopped asking them and simply walked along with her in silence.

You probably haven’t seen a doll bunker yet, but they’re extremely sturdy – downright overengineered, even. They’re even more heavily reinforced than munitions bunkers, and the only route in and out is through an extremely sturdy-looking steel door. It’s the sort of thing that makes the vault doors in heist movies look like tissue paper… and that was the door Victoria had led me to.

Even though I’d walked to the bunker with her willingly, I couldn’t help but protest a little as she swung the bunker door open. I had been told, upon my assignment, that only handlers and commanders were permitted to enter the doll bunker – all support staff were required to stay out in order to avoid ‘unnecessary manpower shortages’. Not that that stopped Victoria, of course! She simply picked me up by the back of my uniform like an uncooperative pet and tossed me right through the door.

11.

Have you ever walked into a room and found eight combat dolls staring directly at you? Sixteen eyes fixed on you, unblinking, like cats that have just spotted a mouse? Presumably not, but if you’re very lucky - or very unlucky - you might get to someday.

That’s where I found myself as the bunker door slammed shut behind me – gracelessly picking myself up off the floor under the hungry gaze of eight combat dolls. They waited a moment, graciously permitting me to get back to my feet, and then… well, I guess the best way to describe it is to say each one started trying, in her own way, to draw me away from my host.

Not a word was spoken, but carnal offers were made, and one or two dolls began to creep toward me as if stalking prey – and then suddenly they all froze at once. I couldn’t receive dollchat yet, so I didn’t know what Victoria said to them - and even now she just giggles when I ask! - but whatever it was, it was enough to convince the other eight dolls not to steal her guest away.

I spent that night in her bunk. I didn't do a lot of actual sleeping, of course, but the moments I did get... having a combat doll holding me close and murmuring sweet reassurances in my ear was maybe the safest I'd ever felt in my whole life. To be told I'm safe now, that the squad will look out for me, that I'm theirs forever…

12.

I hardly ever left the bunker after that. I would have never left, if I’d had the option, but there were still two things I was expected to handle: work and food.

I was still a member of Victoria’s maintenance crew, expected to be present for those duties, and since the necessary hardware was in the maintenance bay, that was where I had to be too. My first duty shift after being taken to the bunker, I’d hesitated – I was even more uncertain about showing my face around the rest of the crew now, after all! Victoria had just returned from a mission, so she would be waiting for me there, but I still had to get from the bunker to the maintenance bay on my own…

Before I figured it out myself, one of the other dolls took pity on me. She took my hand in hers, as if I was a child, and led me to the maintenance bay herself. It was permitted - after all, she was being escorted by maintenance staff - and nobody dared to say she couldn’t stand by while we Victoria received her post- mission diagnostics and I received an entirely different kind of post-mission attention.

I’m not sure if the crew ever appreciated just how much lighter on them she was when I was around, you know? I don’t know if they even noticed, or if they were too busy hating me. It didn’t matter, though – when we were done, Victoria and the other doll walked me back to the bunker, hand in hand, as if they were concerned I’d stray – or flee, perhaps, but there was already no chance of that.

If any of you ever get invited to a bunker, be aware: there’s nothing for you to eat. There is food for the dolls, although it’s terribly bland, but those meals are measured out to the last bite. Even once the whole squad had fully accepted me as their own, they still didn’t have anything to give me – every bite of food for me was one less for them, and dolls are always hungry.

The only way for me to get food would be to get it from the kitchens myself. I’d have to brave the hallways solo, avoiding any other staff, and throw myself on the cook’s mercy in the hopes that they’d be willing to let me take something back with them – and I’d have to do it two or three times a day! It’d be absolutely miserable, right?

As it turned out, that was practically a nonissue. The kitchen staff recognized me on sight - word spreads quickly, especially when you’re escorted to the bunker by two dolls! - and realized that we could solve each other’s problems: I needed food, and they didn’t want to interact with the dolls. If I could come out of the bunker to receive each day’s rations, rather than the staff needing to hand-deliver it directly to the dolls, they’d be more than happy to throw in each day’s worth of meals for me! Teamwork and problem-solving, that’s what we’re trained for, right?

13.

With food resolved and my duties sorted out… well, one day started to blur into the next. There are no windows in a doll bunker, after all -- there’s no sense of time unless you’ve got a chronometer built in, and I sure didn’t. I slept when they let me, I did as I was told, and every time the rations were delivered I felt a little more like I was walking through a dream.

The kitchen staff stopped looking straight at me, eventually. It wasn’t that they were afraid of me - I was no doll, no battlefield predator - but something about me unsettled them. Maybe my body language had changed – after all, I’d been spending more time around dolls than humans, even I could tell that I was picking up their mannerisms, that I was absorbing the way they spoke and moved and held their bodies.

Or maybe it was something else. Maybe there was something in my eyes. I had prostrated myself before the squad and worshipped them for the goddesses they were. I had licked blood from a doll’s body without ever stopping to wonder who it had belonged to. I had given myself to them over and over, even after my stamina was exhausted and I could do little more than accept their desires.

They had made me theirs - with pleasure and pain, with fear and adoration - but they decided I was ready for more.

14.

I’d tell you it was a day like any other, but I don’t even know if it was a day. It was just another moment in the bunker, a moment of laying on a bare concrete floor, my limbs tangled with giggling dolls who simply couldn’t bear to let their plaything go… and then it wasn’t.

They hauled me up off the floor and pushed my back against the wall, one on each side of me, and the rest of the squad parted as Victoria approached, as the doll who’d claimed me first stood over me once more.

“You’ve been fun,” she told me, “but you can be better. We want you to be better. Don’t you want to be better for us?”

Even after all the time I’d spent with them, I still hesitated. I knew what they meant, and I had learned exactly what it entailed. The surgery, the conditioning, the experience of not being human anymore – but wasn’t I already seen as no longer human?

Victoria saw that hesitation, she saw the fear in my eyes, and stroked my head like a pet. She promised me she’d stay by my side the whole time… and she promised to do my conditioning herself.

How could I say no to that?

15.

The surgeons broke me. There’s no way to sugarcoat that. Even without all the modifications combat dolls get, having an arrhythmia control device implanted in your chest without any anesthetic is simply more than any human can bear and stay sane – so I didn’t. I screamed, I struggled and I let myself fall apart.

Victoria put me back together. She reminded me how much I liked being helpful, and how much I enjoyed being useful. She dug up my memories of how much I loved each and every member of the squad, and she made those memories into the core of my personality so I could never, ever forget again. As for the rest of my memories… well, I told you this whole story, didn't I? But everything before the dolls took me in feels distant, removed from me, as if they're someone else's memories instead of my own. It's better that way – I have a whole new life and a whole new family to love.

Speaking of which, Victoria had a surprise for me once I'd recovered, a way of celebrating me as the newest part of their family. One at a time, each doll got up on one of the bunks like it was a makeshift stage and delivered maudlin, overdramatic speeches about the person they imagined I had been before, and we all giggled along together.

In the end, it was my funeral after all.

16.

There you have it, that's the whole story. That's how I went from being just like you to being who I am now. Your instructor wanted me to share it as a warning, a cautionary tale, and I'm sure for most of you it is. But for one or two of you, if it appeals–

Yes, sir?

Understood, sir.

Thank you for your time, everyone! May fate preserve us! Good luck on your quals!

[bullet-prooflove]

Dean Winchester. Coat, Cheese, Flowers.

Tagging: @kmc1989 @gatefleet @private-jett @cosmic-psychickitty

Prequel to:

You, Me & Tennessee - Dean always returns to Tennessee.

On The Mountain - Dean wishes he was back on the Mountain with you.

Six Pack (NSFW) - You realise the man waiting for you isn't Dean Winchester.

Memories (NSFW) - Michael invades your home whilst you're away.

Sweet Dreams - Dean thinks about how this all started.

Deals With the Devil (feat: Michael)- You wake up with an angel in your bed.

Dean doesn’t intend to fall in love in Gatlinburg, Tennessee. It’s something that just happens after he starts hearing rumours about strange attacks up in the National Park.

You know the instant he turns up at the ranger station to investigate the circumstances that he’s a hunter. He has the same demeanour as the first one you met a few years ago, similar features. He’s surprised when you call him out on it, more so when you agree to take him up to the Fire Tower with you.

“There’s more to being a forest ranger up here isn’t there?” He had said, standing in front of the open weapons cabinet surveying the small arsenal. It’s certainly not the usual shit you see out here in the wilderness, silver bullets, long range rifles, military grade explosives. That’s just some of the interesting paraphernalia you have stored away in there.

“There’s lot of power up here on the mountain, it attracts things.” You had told him as you picked out a flare gun and a couple of blocks of C4. “Let’s just say this isn’t my first monster hunt.”

It’s refreshing being open with someone about the work he does. You spend the evening sharing a mini charcuterie board that you manage to pull together with some cheese, jerky and crackers, swapping stories about your exploits. The attraction starts then he thinks, because you’re pretty, funny and a complete badass. The shit you’ve dealt with on this mountain, it almost makes him quake in his boots. He wants to ask you how this all started for you but then you both hear the cries for help and a scratching at the door and it’s hunting time.  

It’s five hours later that you return to the Fire Tower, the both of you a little worse for wear. Your coat is shredded, there’s mud smeared across your cheek, your hair is a mess and the scent of motor oil clings to you from the C4. Dean isn’t in a much better state. He’s bleeding from a gash in his hairline and there’s a three inch slice up his forearm that you’ve managed to patch up with moss and strips from your ruined jacket.

It turns out there wasn’t just one Wendigo, there were two. It had been a fight to the death before you’d managed to trap them in the abandoned mine shaft they’d been using as a nest before activating the C4.

You’re both still hopped up on adrenaline when you get back to the Fire Tower, usually you’d take it out on the punch bag outside out then then Dean kisses you and you spend the next two hours working it out in other ways. You end up watching the sunrise together with a cup of coffee on the balcony, you wearing his t-shirt and nothing else.

He’s regretful when he has to leave. Usually he has no problem hitting and quitting but there’s reluctance in him because the two of you have shared something special up here, something he isn’t ready to let go of just yet.

“Call me alright?” He says as he writes his number on a post it note. “If you get in over your head and I promise you, I’ll come running.”

“I have a whole team of rangers who do the same sort of shit that I do, I’m sure I’ll be fine.” You tell him, tucking it into your trouser pocket.

He gets the message loud and clear. You’re strong, independent, you don’t need him, not really and somehow that makes Dean want you even more.

The next time he’s travelling through Tennessee, he ditches Sam and drops by Gatlinburg, just to check in, see how things are going on the mountain. He’s barely half way down Main Street when he catches sight of you stepping out of the florist with a bouquet of sunflowers, cradled in your arm. You’re wearing  jeans that hug your ass in a way that has him groaning and a brown leather jacket over an ACDC t-shirt.

You don’t react when the black Impala pulls up alongside of you, it isn’t until Dean calls your name that you realise someone’s trying to get your attention. You pull out your earbuds before tilting your head towards the wound down window, surprised to see Dean Winchester sitting in the driver’s seat.

“Hey.” Dean says with that handsome smile of his. “Need a ride?”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[apas-95]

abt the 'exit strategy for capitalism' thing obviously the natural advantages of socialist states will lead to their uncontested military and economical dominance in the coming decades, at which point they'll have both means and motive to buy out bourgeois interests and their 'possessions' and transition the economical system while there's no easy way for imperial core states to outright end these trends, their policies obviously do affect the economical development of socialist states and there's probably enough variance to shift the timetable on all this happening by a couple years, so y'know exert whatever influence you have on the particular flavor of capitalism that's in vogue if done well (and what I'm seeing rn actually gives me hope for that) the capitalists at no point have an incentive to burn the whole thing down out of spite bc they keep earning right until they don't, you know how the saying abt ropes and hangings goes (and if done poorly and they cling to and suck dry the last scraps of the world's economy they control at least everywhere else should be out of reach by then) and my main concern with a revolution is actually that one will 100% get accused of having foreign backing, at which point you just needlessly raise the odds of some general deciding he (or she #imwithher) might as well let those nukes fly (even if they're losing, especially if they're losing) But it's all w/e, I could be convinced either way, this all just makes a lot more sense to me than a succesful imperial core revolution that doesn't end with the northern hemisphere irradiated

fundamentally the notion of a peaceful transition out of capitalism is simply not in agreement with reality. no class has ever abandoned the world stage without fighting to maintain itself, and the imperial core is already both undertaking massive violence and war against the sections of the global south it already has under its heel, and preparing for high-intensity conflict against the communists that have slipped its shackles. there is no point where the bourgeoisie would simply peacefully allow themselves to be stripped of power.

the point of nukes is exactly *why* there has to be revolution within the imperial core, rather than having the rest of the world do the job for them - there is precisely one place the US has no nuclear deterrent against, which is itself. if the thing we're supposed to fear is that both 'the US military's high command, likely facing severe mutiny, rather than ordering a negotiated surrender during civil war, decides to nuke themselves' as well as 'the US strategic missile forces, upon receiving the order to nuke themselves, carry it out', then so be it - such a fundamental strategic insanity would be just as likely to start a nuclear exchange even if there weren't a revolution - which brings us to the final point.

world war is on the horizon. the economic reasons for world war remain as they did a century and a half ago. the world has been fully carved up, and the profits are drying out. the imperialist blocks, principally the US and EU, are driven to compete against each other for their holdings, first peacefully, then through proxy war, and finally through direct conflict. as it was a hundred years ago, the buildup of war is accepted on all sides with the target of the socialist bloc and the potential for its pillaging, but (as has already started breaking out among larger and larger regional powers) any conflict of this sort would manifest as general war and looting, as desperate, recession-wracked imperialists take opportunity as it presents itself. in inter-imperialist war the most ruthless techniques are used, and a nuclear exchange would not be off the table -- and, fundamentally, the conditions that lead to world war are the same that lead to instability, insurrection, and revolution within individual countries.

war is, at this juncture, an inevitability. the only question is whether revolutionary war will win out over unjust war, will convert the war between nations to a war between classes. we are against war, but we are not afraid of it.

[longwuzhere]

My Adventures with Superman Season 2 Easter Eggs

Welcome to another week of My Adventures with Superman! We got a heist episode with some returning characters! Hell yeah!!!!

My Easter eggs lists for season 1 is here if you haven't seen it!

My season 2 episode 1 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 2 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 3 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman comic issue 1 post is here

My season 2 episode 4 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 5 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 6 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My Easter eggs and references for My Adventures with Superman comic issue 2 post is here

My season 2 episode 8 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 9 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 10 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My Easter eggs and references for My Adventures with Superman comic issue 3 post is here

Spoilers if you haven't seen the episode

After what happened in episode 5, Amanda Waller puts Metropolis in martial law and has sent out the HDC, the Human Defense Corps. her military personnel roaming around and harassing innocent civilians.

The HDC makes its first appearance in Human Defense Corps, in its own limited series back in 2003 where they were a military unit that fights back against extraterrestrial forces [Cover art by Clement Sauve, Juan Viasco, Guy Major]. They have been folded into the US military to help fight back against New Krypton in Superman: War of the Supermen #3 (2010).

Also if you want to see what crazy shit Amanda Waller is doing in the comic book universe give Absolute Power #1 (2024) a read and you will see how ruthless she can get. Out on July 3rd. And just look at that amazing cover art by Dan Mora too and he'll be doing the interior art too with the fantastic Mark Waid as the writer! Also give their World's Finest series a shot too!

The episode's title is a reference to Ocean's Eleven. Ocean's Eleven is a 1960s heist movie about Danny Ocean, who he and 10 other associates of his team up together to rob several Las Vegas casinos. I first watched this movie when it was remade in 2001 starring former Batman, George Clooney, Brad Pitt, and Matt Damon and have watched the later 2 sequels and the Oceans 8 spinoff starring Sandra Bullock as Debbie Ocean, Danny's sister. Fun movies if you haven't seen them.

Later in the episode, Lois plans on stealing the Jump Drive Ship from S.T.A.R. Labs and the design of it kinda reminds me of...

the space ship that brought Superman to Earth from Superman the Animated series. Also a good Superman cartoon if you need your Superman fix when waiting for new MAwS episodes!

Lois and Jimmy head to Leslie and Rory's place to hire them to break into S.T.A.R. Labs to steal the ship. I talked more about them in here and here respectively. Nice to see the both of them as a couple during the final day of Pride Month! #LoveIsNotForCowards

And speaking of queer couples, when later in the scene Rory decided to "leave the mission" Jimmy brings along Mallah and the Brain to help steal the ship as well! I talked a bit about them here and here.

Mallah and the Brain recount to everyone their multiversal hopping and I talked about the DC multiverse here and Mallah finally gets his beret to match his comic counterpart and the Brain looks just like a Dalek from Doctor Who.

Not surprised that the MAwS crew are Doctor Who fans.

As Leslie details out a plan for them to steal the ship, we see that one of her sources has told her that the guard has a family member at Silver Age Nursing Home.

So for those not in the know, comic book history is divided up into eras. From 1938 (Superman's first appearance in Action Comics #1) to 1956 is considered the Golden Age, the Silver Age was from 1956 to 1970, the Bronze Age was from 1970 to 1985, and the Modern Age was from 1985 to now.

Specifically, Silver Age of Comics was from 1956 to 1970. It began thanks to the success of the reintroduction of the then newest Flash, Barry Allen who debuted in Showcase #4 (1956). This era of comics is much more focused on science fiction and thanks to that a lot of powers and origins of superheroes now have a science/science fiction element to it for example the then new Green Lantern, Hal Jordan received his Green Lantern ring from a dying extraterrestrial, Abin Sir and Ray Palmer a.k.a the second Atom gains his powers from a white dwarf star matter. This was also the era where the Justice Society of America from the Golden Age was reimagined to the Justice League of America.

When Lex gets a surprise visit from Waller and Slade, he decides to show them Project M and explains what it is and shows off its capabilities when they go hunting Lois, Jimmy, Mallah, and the Brain. and based on what Lex says and the subtle design of the Project M robots, we can assume M is for Metallo like what AmerTek and Thomas Weston was developing in episode 3. I talk more about Metallo here.

And with that we finish the Easter Eggs and references of the episode! Come back next time to see how the gang free Clark from Brainiac and see what happens next for Kara after her realization of what happened!

My Easter eggs lists for season 1 is here if you haven't seen it!

My season 2 episode 1 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 2 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 3 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman comic issue 1 post is here

My season 2 episode 4 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 5 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 6 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My Easter eggs and references for My Adventures with Superman comic issue 2 post is here

My season 2 episode 8 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 9 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 10 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My Easter eggs and references for My Adventures with Superman comic issue 3 post is here

[bucketyd]

Your AleRudy art is amazing, especially your most recent post— do you have any thoughts about narco!Rudy and narco!Alejandro you’d like to share?

Hey thank you so much!

I have a thread on twitter about these two, but let me copy and paste here.

I'll try to draw and write more on this!

===

Narco! Alejandro AU

- Alejandro leads Las Almas Cartel with Valeria as one of El Sin Nombres

- He believes that the only way to make better Las Almas is to dominate it from a single source of absolute power

- He and Valeria argues a lot; internal conflicts are always high

- Ale and Rudy used to be a thing when they were both young; they have sun(Ale) and moon(Rudy) tattoos on their ankles

- They had a big fight when Ale chose a Sicario's way, went seperate ways

- Ale wanted to reach out to Rudy after he got a stable position in the cartel BUT Rudy have already joined special forces by then and was unreachable to Ale's dismay

- Alejandro kept tab on Rudy using his connections in corrupt military, waiting for right moment to take Rudy back to where he should be: by Alejandro's side

- Ale is ruthless, cruel, downright sadistic when it comes to asserting dominance and punishing traitors

- Rudy is also feared within special forces, known for his stern attitude toward people; he's more gloomier, doesn't smile a lot and mostly keeps to himself compared to OG

- Couple of years later after Rudy became a leader of Los Vaqueros squad Alejandro ambushes Rudy's team, and was able to capture him and take some of the vaqueros as hostages

- thank u for listening to bucket's deranged rant on another fuxked up alerudy aus

===

Narco! Rudy AU

(added some more from original thread)

- Rudy disappeared when he turned 18 after his abuela passed away

- Valeria promised him a bloody revenge on La Araña cartel and she did just that, so Rudy follows her

- Rudy moves more in the shadows and people don't know his identity, similar to El Sin Nombre

- Alejandro looked for him everywhere, but there was no trace; Ale assumed Rudy was dead

- Alejandro and his Los Vaqueros are known for their ruthlessness toward narcos and anyone affiliated to them

- Las Almas Cartel under influence of Rodolfo takes more softer approach; Rodolfo opposed to harboring terrorist Hassan in Las Almas and had a LOUD fight with Valeria

- This affected his status within the cartel and later led to betrayal; someone from the cartel tipped Alejandro off Rudy's location which ultimately led to Rudy's capture

- Rudy's cross necklace was Alejandro's gift when Rudy turned 18, 'mi sol' is engraved on the back side (he wanted to comfort Rudy)

- Rudy threw everything away when he chose to live as a sicario, but he couldn't throw away the cross and his memories with Alejo

- Rudy doesn't talk much, always a silent shadow behind Valeria, but when he is forced to he is bitter and sarcastic.

- After Rudy was caught by Alejandrp and Los Vaqueros, he was taken to their base to be interrogated, where he would not answer to any questions and only try to piss Alejandro off mentioning their childhood and how it's now meaningless to him

- Alejandro punched him; couldn't help himself; and gets to this hyper uh... fucked up state where he is just confused by hate, guilt, nostalgia and LOVE

- thank u for listening to bucket's deranged rant on ANOTHER fuxked up alerudy aus

[simply-wlw-kpopstan]

30. Minjeong to the rescue

You entered minjeongs room to find her sitting down on the ground, already fidgeting with new pieces of Lego to finish up one of the towers. "you know I kind of feel like a double agent since you showed me your private account."

"knowledge is power after all." you smiled as you sat down. " how did things go after I left?"

" the usual. Jimin said you weren't feeling well and that she told you to go and lay down. We ended up talking about all things that happened this semester including the Uhm... The Parker incident. He won't be around for much longer at the university, his dad is transferring him to some military thing or something. "

"you went over to his place after everything happened didn't you? Jimin and I talked about it and you told her you were with me, you told me you had other plans and the next day you have a bruised hand and Parker claimed he had a fight with some guy." you reached over for another bag of Lego pieces and started to build a new part of the castle.

"he had it coming. I knew you couldn't do it with your scholarship being on the line and he would have found a way to get you kicked out."

"he threatened with it when he saw me with jimin. Guess he didn't like people knowing he wasn't all that. Makes me wonder how he slept with so many girls if he isn't that good? Rumours spread fast around campus yet nothing about him being bad in bed until jimin dumped him. "

"he has money and looks, some girls don't care about anything but bragging rights. Who knows, maybe they tried to get something out of it themselves." she clicked the last piece onto the tower and connected to the growing structure in front of you. "enough about him. Why did you suddenly disappear?"

You sighed and thought it over, would minjeong listen and understand your feelings or would she defend jimin without thinking about it? One thing you know for sure is that she stays true to her feelings and opinions so she probably wouldn't just brush it off and defend her friend. "jimin came up to me in the kitchen and hugged me. I told her we probably shouldn't and then she turned me around, if I didn't push her away she would've kissed me. It was like she didn't see the problem in that. I was introduced as a friend and didn't want to be caught kissing their daughter in their kitchen at all. That would be disrespectful wouldn't it? "

"you were scared of getting caughed I understand that but you do realize your fighting over a hypothetical thing that could've happened? Unless you're mad about something else and are using this as an excuse. "

"i'm not." you frowned as minjeong gave you a look before focusing back on the Lego piece.

"so you're not mad about meeting her parents as a friend instead of her girlfriend?"

"No? We're taking things Slow and I understand if she isn't ready for any labels yet. I-"

"i'm gonna stop you right there before you try to sell me more bullshit." she layed down her work before stealing your lego's out of your hands," You've been acting like a couple long before you confessed to one another. If and I say if you are upset over the fact she was so careless you should tell her because right now she doesn't know why you're upset. Now if it is about meeting the parents as a friend you should've thought about that before you joined the trip, you knew they were coming and you knew jimin told them you were a friend. "

"since when are you a therapist?" you clocked an eyebrow.

"since the day I met these girls." she smirked.

"well if you'll excuse me I have to go and talk to jimin. I'll come back after so we can finish this castle."

"you better! We should be able to finish it in an hour together I think. Just don't let jimin drag you into bed, I'm waiting and the rooms aren't soundproof just so you know." she sent you a playful glance as you walked out laughing.

"noted!" you walked into the living room to see aeri and ning watching a new k-drama, Once aeri spotted you she motioned to the bedrooms. You made your way over to jimin's room and softly knocked on the door.

"yeah?" jimin's voice came softly from inside and you opened the bedroom door to see her laying on her bed with a book.

"Hey, I just wanted to say I'm sorry for today. I should've never put you in the position to make up an excuse for me to your parents." you quietly sat down on the bed as she placed the book on her bedside table.

"I don't care about that. What I do care about is that you got all weird without any explanation."

"I got upset over the fact that you were so careless about kissing me. It hadn't been a day since I met your parents and it felt wrong. They think I'm your friend and I got scared about them finding out that I'm not just a friend. That I..."

"that you?" She raised an eyebrow at your sudden silence.

"that the whole Parker thing was my fault."

"what are you talking about? You weren't -"

"jimin if we didn't sleep together when you were together with him, he wouldn't have hit you. Do your parents know why he did it?"

"They know enough, Parker probably told his dad that I cheated too. I don't know if my parents know but they'll find out eventually. It was my choice though, you didn't pressure me into anything. Parker chose to hit me and it's no one's fault except his."

You nodded as you looked down at the ground. The sound of blankets rustling filled the room before you felt arms wrap around your waist. Jimin placed a kiss on your shoulder as she nuzzled her nose into the crook of your neck. "I promised minjeong I'd come back after talking with you. Her exact words were 'don't let jimin drag you into bed'"

"I didn't drag you, you sat down voluntarily." she smiled against your skin, "wouldn't you rather spend time with me in bed then build Legos with minjeong?"

You sucked your teeth, "see that's were you get too cocky. Minjeong and I have a goal we need to achieve. I'll come back once we're done though." you turned towards her as she pulled back from you.

"wha- you're not kidding? You're actually choosing lego's over me?" She looked at you in disbelieve.

"I made a promise to my friend so yes." you smirked as you stood up, "I don't have favorite's you know."

"She's your friend, I'm your-" she cut herself off but you both knew what she was going to say. "just go." she blushed as she picked up her book.

To be honest you were debating on teasing her with that near slip up but decided to leave it for now. You leaned down and kissed her on the top of her head, jimin looked up with a smile and pouted her lips slightly. After planting another kiss on her lips you left her alone and went back to minjeong to finish the Lego castle.

masterlist | next

[notknickers]

this fic took too long to commit to digital paper than it should have, but it's done, so let's focus on that. i have incorporated a few of the headcanons i listed in another dedicated post. or, at least, i tried. synopsis: a strange routine has settled between you and colonel könig, your direct superior. one unexpected, but not entirely unwelcome, after you got over the shock elicited by the reserved, dreadful giant seeking you out for comfort you did not imagine him needing… and the fact that he seems to need it from you more often than you from him. but an unspoken agreement is still an agreement.

warnings: unethical power imbalance, ptsd, dub con to full con, muffdiving for comfort, maledom to malesub, crying, heavy petting, orgasm control and denial, könig is a pet, slight degradation, praising, humping, cum eating, dispassionate fingering, second-person narration in present tense, no gender mention, but reader assumed to be afab, military-related inaccuracies, probably.

word count: 3887

A/N: if you're unsure whether to read this fic or not, here's something about me that might help you decide:

i like my porn grotesque and sentimental;

i like my men dangerous, submissive, pathetic (affectionate) and in tears.

a less blurry tentakönig than his previous appearance is once again here to kindly remind us that the following is aimed at an adult audience. please, respect this.

you are walking with a couple of new recruits along one of the corridors of the base’s building. from out the windows, the light hardly makes a difference, too weak at this early hour to lighten the interiors. chill still blankets you like dew on the grass outside: it hasn’t abandoned you since you woke up for drills.

this isn’t the fastest route to report for training, but there is still time, so you don’t fret. you chat lightly, nodding here and there in spite of the little interest you have for the banality of the noobies’ small talk, when the sound of heavy footfalls echoes ahead.

you hear him before you can see, the sight of colonel könig’s imposing frame following close behind the sound of his stomping gait. your comrades hesitate only a moment, going quiet and halting to salute the higher-ranking official. you don’t.

you are too busy taking in könig’s haunted eyes locking on you, a shiver running down your spine as soon as you notice how crazed they look. two dark pits in the holes of his mask, staring ahead through heavy eyelids smudged in black. your body has stopped moving before your brain could take stock of it; his pace has only increased.

there is not a doubt left: you are his target.

the colonel ignores the recruits and, without even slowing, seizes you by the waist with an arm, lifting you bodily and dragging you along with him. you do not fight it. instead, you gesture towards the hesitant others to go on without you and, after an awkward glance exchanged with one another, they are swift to follow your unspoken advice.

if something unethical is going on between an official and a private, neither of them wishes to witness it. the less they know, the safer their positions within their employer’s company.

you watch their shadows disappear on the wall, behind a sharp corner, and the bitter stench of tobacco mixed with acrid breath hits your nostrils, even through the fabric of the colonel’s mask. it makes you think how many hours he has been up, how long he has been storming the base looking for you, how many times he has choked the desire to drag you from your cot in the middle of the night with yet another cigarette for that smell to linger so thickly…

until the distraction of smoking stopped being enough to help him hold back.

he drops you to your feet, unceremonious, back against wall and falls to his knees, masked head reaching above your waist as he hastily unbuckles your belt. it jingles sharply in the gloom of early morning quiet, the padding of his thick gloves hindering the deftness of his movements, but not his will.

«colonel…», you hazard, voice small. but all you receive in response is more of his frenzied panting and a jolt as your belt is finally torn from your trouser’s loops.

one of his hands disappears under the trail of his mask, teeth pulling at glove, before brash fingers are back to tug at your button and zipper. you relent, disliking the idea of having to request another standard-issue uniform so soon and manage to get your hand under his, removing every obstacle along his way.

könig barely glances up at you in approval. he swipes down trousers and underwear in one pull with a groan. you barely see the pale, scarred skin of his lower face flash in the dim light as he lifts the dangling ends of his mask just enough, that his head already dives between your legs.

his thick fingers hold the softer flesh on your inner-thighs apart with such urge you sense with certainty you will find them bruised, as the colonel easily covers the length of your cunt with the flat of his tongue, uses it to spread your lips, so his can attach to your soft, delicate folds and suck enough to make you ache in both discomfort and desire.

«colonel…», you try again to little avail, the wet, smacking sound of his mouth on yours getting louder as he presses his lips, his chin, hard against you, his panting soon turning to satisfied groaning.

«make me…», he rasps hot against your skin while snatching one of your hands and planting it firmly on top of his own head, pale stubble of hair stinging your palm through the neck-hole of his t-shirt-mask.

as if you could really make colonel könig do anything in this state.

so desperate that his hips thrust back and forth of their own accord. they have been since the moment the colonel dropped in front of you to lose himself in his self-assigned task. they always do when his lips can taste your juices – or those of any other, you presume. they fuck empty air, occasionally swatting your legs as he laps at your cunt with wanton greed unknown to you before you and the colonel were introduced, large, gloved hand still covering yours, squeezing your fingers as he fantasises about you forcing him to pleasure you, like he requested.

it’s more of an instinct, an uncontrollable tic for him, than a genuine attempt at release for himself. he doesn’t even register how he could dry-hump your boot to get himself off, so completely taken by his visceral hunger for you while in the unshakable grip of whatever darkness stirs within.

the one that guided his actions so far. the one that guides his actions often.

you are certain he revels in the feel of your sex against his tongue more than you in the feel of his tongue against it; as if every lick and suck brought him closer to a salvation otherwise denied.

this confirms the initial suspicion that formed in your head as soon as you looked at his grey, dire eyes as he came at you like a battering ram: another one of his night terrors. another phantom lingering in his wake.

you don’t know what it is he sees in the back of his skull every time he blinds himself from sight, when exhaustion claims him and he has no choice but to succumb to it. that is the one thing that still remains a mystery and you won’t prise. you can imagine the horrors, you have seen it before, and that is not the kind of information you force out of someone, no matter how erratic they behave because of it.

his messy slurping is getting out of hand; the way he traps your lips and folds in his teeth and pulls on them, before burying his tongue in your slit to harangue your too-sensitive nub with his nose becoming unbearable; his feasting off of you far rougher than usual.

«col--- könig!», you finally call, voice stern, and his head lifts, chin glistening with spit, before the lower hem of his mask falls back down, sticking to it.

he looks at you as if he were seeing you for the first time today, fury, if not sated, at least subdued, for now. the troubled look so vivid in his eyes moments ago dulls enough that it’s only a pale, threatening glimmer on their glassy surface.

you carefully pinch the hem of your clothes, slowly lifting them to cover up. he stops forcing your thighs apart, so you can adjust your uniform around your hips, gaze still boring into his as you refuse to avert it from his unreliable nature, hoping it will be enough to stay his brash hand.

instead, he helps you with the button, then shuffles back a little, signalling he is no threat to you. he never really was. not willingly, at least.

«belt!»

he swiftly collects it from where he discarded it earlier in his state of rash lust and mysterious turmoil and coils it tidily around his fist, before placing it in your outstretched hand.

he watches, still on his knees, as you loop it back in place and buckle it close, his breathing quiet again.

«könig», his eyes are back to yours as he expectantly awaits for your next words, «to your quarters, colonel.»

you are the one to lock the door behind the two of you with the colonel’s implicit blessings. both of you know what comes next, yet könig does not move, waiting for your say.

so you do. you inhale deeply, closing your eyes for a moment to recollect yourself, knowing now that the distance between you, modest though it may be, will still be the same when you reopen them.

«kit off, colonel», there is no harshness in your voice, but it sounds authoritative all the same.

könig complies, ridding himself of any encumbrance save for his mask, then stands there, further waiting. you don’t allow yourself to indulge in his attractive figure too long, even when his arousal is difficult to ignore, pointing straight at you, leaking thickly.

«come», you barely open your arms and he goes down to the floor, crawling towards you. you meet him on the tiles, slipping your back against the door and settling in a squat as you invite him to join you, invite him closer.

now he can touch you.

he hugs your waist tight, almost dragging you down with him, but careful not to. his head immediately finds shelter in the hollow of your neck, silently begging for comforting touch you are now willing to provide. your hand is soon going through his short-cropped hair, mindful not to lift his mask.

not until he is ready to do it himself, or give you leave to.

there, on the floor, you both find your peace. the peace of liminality: fleeting, for it won’t last and, therefore, all the more precious. he barely moves, trying not to burden you with his conspicuous weight, even when, after a while, even your well-trained thighs and knees need reprieve from the squatting.

you sit down, legs spread wide to make room for könig as he slots himself between them, ruined, scarred lips tracing your throat downwards, then up again as his hands open the top of your fatigues, where more of your skin can be freed for him, covered only by your tank top.

he needs that contact. close. warm. reassuring. even when he unshackles your breasts from the trappings of your attire, mandated down to your underclothes, it is not out of need of his loins that he does so.

you hold him to your chest and soon, you feel his throat tremble. hot, wet tears melt his face, safely hidden against you, breaking the soft murmur of quiet breathing in low, reluctant and shameful sobs the colonel holds in until he cannot any more. a litany of exhalations and mutterings in his native tongue pushes out of him to take their place.

delirium

you hold him tighter as one of your hands finds its way under his mask to contour the battlefield that is his face. unevenly raised scars older and newer that litter his skin welcome the pads of your fingers as you wipe the tears with your palms, gently stroking.

he glances up at you, miserable, bloodshot eyes supplicating for things he couldn’t name if he knew what they were called.

«shhhh», you reassure him that there is no need to ask for anything as you begin to lift his mask, slowly enough to give the colonel time to object. he doesn’t and the fabric swishes off his head quietly.

now he is fully bare. a level of nakedness that you are sure not many have had the chance to witness.

your hold tightens around him and your hand runs through his matted hair, his damp cheeks, contouring the crooked shape of the left cheekbone, the one that broke and never healed right, dabbing at ever-renewing tears as he curses a past to you unknown.

the colonel shifts his heavy eyes, voice louder as he hisses at an invisible figure that hangs in the air of his memory, right next to your head, then shelters his face in your bosom again, crumpled on his knees, fingers digging the sides of your back, which he easily hugs.

you haven’t stopped stroking his hair a moment, holding the colonel as tightly as you’re capable of, trying to hush his whimpering with voice steady and secure.

you don’t know what could reduce the epitome of man such the colonel is, or at least, presents as, to this shaky mess and, at this point, you hope you never learn. the slump of his otherwise proud, muscled back looks pitiful as you stare at it. it brings a bitter scowl to your lips. what, indeed, could possibly have brought reserved and competent könig this low, in front of you?

you remember a tune you once heard him hum when he thought no one was there, or when he was so lost in thought that he did not even realise doing it, more likely. you intone it to the best of your memory.

this seems to soothe the colonel, enough that he is quiet, save for the occasional shaky gasp that still seizes his throat. he soon joins you, voice off-key and hoarse, to complete it with sparse words you couldn’t possibly know.

you try not to think of the consequences of missing the daily training, yet have no intention to ask the colonel to vouch for you. you want to keep this strange moment all to yourself, separate from your quotidian routine. a slice of time in an alternate place, cut away from your everyday reality.

yours and könig’s alone.

your thoughts are interrupted by the colonel’s mouth, warm and hungry. it wraps about the tips of your tear-stained tits and sucks, finally driven by different needs than consolation. your body responds right away to the ravenous love bites he marks on your skin, another blemish of his you will carry with yourself. a memento that this was not some daydream that never really was outside of your imagination.

your nipples pebble in his mouth and, as he steals another gasp from your throat, his demeanour emboldens. his large, rough hands cup your breasts while his teeth move to your neck, your jaw, your lips.

you are weak to his advances. you don’t deny him. yet it leaves you wondering who is taking advantage of whom.

«turn around, colonel», you forcefully grab a tuft of könig’s hair and pull the roots to show him you meant it. again, he complies, even though you can sense a note of disappointment.

he sits in front of you and you kneel at his back, bodies pressed tightly together as you reach around to knead his stomach, muscles flexing involuntarily as your hands descend. the thickness of könig’s abdomen forces you to struggle to reach his cock, but you can work with it. you already have in the past and the fingers now curling around the root of it confirm it.

your hand barely contains his heft, but it is quick to move along the heavy organ all the same. you squeeze, a groan reaching your ears as his flesh throbs back your touch, fingers tracing pulsing veins along it until they come away wet, foreskin rolling down softly almost on its own.

enough with the toying. you want to hear the colonel, könig, gasp and whimper as desperately as when he was weeping, but for rather different reasons. your determination spurs your movements and you start stroking his cock in earnest, wasting no more time.

it feels more aggression than service, almost violent, the way you abuse his cock with your hand, but you know he can take it. can take it. the man demands it. you know by the way, uncomfortable though it is sitting on the floor like that, he bucks his hips into your fist, meeting your downward slide with a jolt from his loins.

and when you torture him with your delightful touch, only to open your fist, enough for him to feel the silky warmth of your palm, but none of the friction, he whines for your hand back. he wines oh-so-sweetly for it as you mock him in pointed whispers in his ear.

this only riles him up more, forcing the most endearing of sounds through his broken lips. so you grant him his wish, hugging his girth in your fist and returning to your task, skin sliding smoothly with könig’s own wetness.

you repeat one, two, three more times, delighting each one in his reactions, until you force him to pleasure himself with your hand.

you hold it still around him, making him work for his release, his hips back to their frantic bucking, until you cheat him out of his pleasure one last infuriating time.

he curses in his tongue, that much you understand without need for translation, as you rise from the floor to stand a little distance away, in front of him.

«silence, dog! you know what i want, now.»

his chest heaves visibly as he peers at you from below, almost hateful in the intensity of his leer, but he obeys. back on all fours, he crawls towards your outstretched hand, seeking contact once more.

you stroke his face, damp and exhausted-looking, by now: «you’re a good, obedient dog, colonel.»

he hums at the praise and lets you guide him closer to you by his hair as you extend your left leg towards him, planting the heel of your boot to the floor. he observes while you let a glob of saliva trickle down on its tip and shuffle your foot to spread it on the rest of the black leather surface.

you lean towards him: «you know what i want from you now, pup.»

könig nods, then positions himself atop your boot, thighs straddling each side of it, disappearing it from sight with their large, powerful muscles. he stares up at you as he rubs his cock against the squeaky-clean, smooth leather you maintain in impeccable condition. he would do so even if that hand of yours caught in his hair weren’t twisting his neck backwards enough to relish in the sight of him.

his slower, sensuous movements begin to grow more haphazard once more. you are sure he will give himself rope burns with the laces if you don’t let him find relief.

«go on, colonel. i want you to come. now.»

he buries his face between your thighs as his hips keep working your boot, rubbing his cheeks against the rough fabric of your fatigues, lapping at it with his tongue, mouth hungry for the warmth and sweet taste of your cunt, just below the clothes, yet out of reach for the colonel until you decree otherwise.

he will have to settle for breathing in its scent, especially after those theatrics of his, earlier this morning.

finally, his penance is served in full. he moans against your crotch as he floods your boot with his seed, breath scorching as his mouth seals against your trousers to quiet his pleasured utterings.

his tongue is dry when he sits on his haunches to recover his breath.

you pet könig’s head, sweat wetting your palm as you run it along his skull: «you are a good pup, colonel», he basks in your praises, eyes almost beaming, «but do you know what a really good pup would do, now?»

he nods, sparing you the breath to tell him and immediately goes down to your boot again, lips and tongue working, relentless, to clean it from his mess. he doesn’t come up until not a single trace of his juices is left on your footwear, nor the floor around it, where it trickled.

you watch him swallow the last of it. No complaints.

that’s when you kneel to encase his jaws in your hands, so you can tilt his head towards you: «you were perfect, colonel.»

you can feel all the tension leave könig’s body. as for the anguish that plagues his spirit, you have done what you could.

colonel könig’s uniform looks impeccable on him. it hugs him perfectly, as if every piece of it were not lying crumpled on the floortiles only minutes ago. his mask is back on his head, shrouding his face as he likes. he waits by the door, gaze illegible, with a glass of apricot brandy in hand whose bottle he retrieved from one of the drawers.

he offered you some, but you declined. even if you could bear its taste, you don’t feel like indulging in spirits when your day has yet to begin. he shrugged and went to lean against the egress wall. he’s still sipping on it to rinse his mouth as you readjust your own fatigues.

you nod your head in goodbye and make to leave, but his figure doesn’t budge. you wait for an explanation. all you get is his gaze trailing behind you as he eyes his large desk, instead.

you sigh, considering what he is offering. your absence must have been noticed, by now and you don’t think a few more minutes will make a difference. in truth, your unsatisfied arousal is probably tainting your common sense, but you already said no to the brandy. it wouldn’t do to leave you superior without saying yes to a kindness he offers.

you nod and he sets his glass aside after emptying it. the temperamental giant easily lifts you again, this time much calmer and gentler, allowing you to find balance by gripping his shoulders as he walks towards the elegant wooden surface.

he rests you on it, sheltering your head with his arm and taking a few steps back as he waits for you to undo your trousers and pull them down enough. you do, clumsily, but quickly and you see him return, towering from above, eyes vacuous and inexpressive now that his mask is back on his face.

he repositions you to his liking, bending your knees to your chest to grant himself a nice view of both your face and your cunt, dripping from all the pent-up energy you accumulated during your session.

he ungloves his right hand, bringing the fingers to his mouth to wet them more out of habit than need, then plants the left one beside your face as he leans over you, mask hovering above you, brushing your face as his fingers find easy way inside you.

he gets working right away, no preambles, rather utilitarian in his approach. his thick index and middle finger squelch rhythmically inside you as his thumb covers your clit. he attacks your sweet spot right away, curling his fingertips as you bite hard on your lower lip to stifle your noises.

the recent memory of him kneeling at your feet, obedient and desperate, coupled with a few more pointed, circular motions and you’re convulsing around his hand, arms instinctively sheltering your eyes from his as your back arches. you feel him retreat right away, his job done and you can finally readjust your clothes for good.

you glimpse könig sneak the fingers he used on you under the hem of his mask, the sucking sounds you hear as you buckle your belt around your waist eloquent enough. he doesn’t seem satisfied until he has licked all of your humours from them, then his glove is fitted back on.

now you can leave.

thank you for reading. let me know what you thought, if you feel like it. and please, if you enjoyed it, consider reblogging.

[smaller-comfort]

Extremely rambly thoughts on necrontyr society/marriage headcanon stuff. Some of this dovetails with the snecron biology stuff; you get 'gestational parent' and 'inseminating parent' as concepts because I'm not going to be more creative with words tonight.

At the upper levels of society, marriage is solely for cementing political alliances and the transfer of wealth. That's it. It's a legal contract between two families, and the contract lays out how wealth and power are shared and inherited between them.

Courtship would vary wildly between dynasties and even between different vassal states within a dynasty (a lot of this gets flattened out post-biotransference, alas). But before then, culturally, a dynasty from the eastern fringe might be nearly as alien to a dynasty in the west as any of the Unclean. (The fact that they've got mutually intelligible language across the galaxy is hilariously the biggest science-fantasy leap for me, I'll be honest.) Also, space-mormon Ithakas is weird as hell to everyone.

So, for example: Nihilakh crownworld nobility courtship customs involve, first and foremost, a team of lawyers, on both sides. Immediate members of the Phaeron's household probably have to get permission from the Yyth seer before even beginning the process. Courtship gifts are wildly expensive and extravagant and meticulously documented, with particular emphasis placed on the provenance of unique rarities. The exchange of courtship gifts is always a public spectacle- 'subtle' is for crypteks and lawyers.

At higher levels of society, the two people getting married might not even meet until after the paperwork is filed. Mid and lower level nobles are a bit more relaxed about it, but they're also not dealing with quite the same scale of wealth. Weddings are still ridiculously over-the-top affairs that can and will bankrupt smaller houses hoping to secure a politically advantageous match to a larger family.

Meanwhile, on Solemnace, you do see a similar emphasis on legal documentation, and rare or unique courtship gifts, but they're much less extravagant about the displays of wealth. Gifts are more often exchanged in private, and though weddings can get elaborate, it tends to be more about tasteful, elegant luxury than extravagant excess. Is this at least in part to keep their Overlord from stealing the silverware at the wedding? It's impossible to say.

Over on Mandragora, you announce your intention to court by challenging your intended to a duel. The date and time of the duel is the anticipated date of the nuptuals. Generally the intended couple will not actually fight one another, but the wedding will involve a lot of demonstrations of martial prowess, and usually there will be a ritualized duel of some sort between representatives of each family. Whichever family wins gets to officiate the wedding, and keeps the larger share of the dowry.

On Gidrim, no dueling is required, but it's customary to present your intended with some sort of hunting trophy. There'd be some kind of annual tourney or major gaming event where young necrontyr might dedicate their victories to their intended- think medieval tourneys, and knights jousting for tokens from their beloved. Now, given that gender parity is standard, this potentially means that you end up fighting against the person you're trying to court. This sort of thing is frequently the subject of romantic comedies and dramas. Gidrim weddings usually last several days, with feasting and recitations of long form epic military ballads and more games/martial demonstrations. The subsequent hangover may last up to a week, if you're doing it right.

Those would all be courtship practices for a primary spouse or consort for higher-level nobility. Polyamory is common, both for the purpose of providing heirs, and because at the end of the day a marriage contract is a business contract, and why wouldn't you try to form as many alliances as possible?

So it's not uncommon for third or fourth children to be married off as secondary spouses to vassal houses, to reinforce political ties between families. Since everyone is dying of turbo cancer, it's also not uncommon for these secondary marriage contracts to include a clause for what happens when the fourth kid in the line of succession becomes the heir apparent. (Divorce practices vary between dynasties as well, but by and large it is a fast process out of necessity.)

Secondary spouse courtship and weddings can be just as elaborate as consort matches, depending on the status/wealth of everyone involved. Usually they're not quite as involved- on the other hand, if your new intended is the Phaeron's fourth daughter, you're damn well going to go all out, or suffer the consequences.

Because of rampant fertility issues due to turbo cancer and a not insignificant amount of inbreeding among the nobility in certain dynasties, inheritance and succession frequently have nothing to do with parentage or genetics. Heirs are adopted from subsidiary families all the time. There are some families where heirs are always adopted, to reduce infighting among the actual children, or to avoid particular genetic defects.

That said, some dynasties do place a lot of weight on genetics and familial lines, so contract marriages or concubines/surrogates are frequently used to produce heirs. Any children produced via concubine are legally members of the family who owns/employs the concubine. Doesn't matter who the inseminating or gestational parent is; legally, the child has legitimate status as a member of that household. (This can afford the concubine a certain amount of status as well, or at least security; fertility is a highly sought after trait.)

(Sidebar on contraception and eugenics: contraceptive implants are used most frequently among nobility/merchant class/military officers. The further down the social ladder you go, the less available any kind of medical technology is, never mind contraceptives, and commoners/serfs/slaves are encouraged to reproduce as often as possible. Rank and file miltary, however, would be surgically sterilized, and have any viable gametes extracted for genetic testing and possible use by surrogates. Sometimes this is reversible; most of the time it isn't, because it's assumed they're going to die before they'd be able to retire and have children anyway. A majority of pregnancies result in miscarriage; many children don't make it out of infancy because of birth defects. Infanticide is still common in some parts of the galaxy, but they'll usually try to terminate a pregnancy early if it looks like it'll be nonviable.) (Maybe they do lay clutches of eggs, I'm fuzzy on a lot of these details, honestly. Not all of them- but a lot of them.)

(Zahndrekh does not get to retire to a remote garden on a mountain with Obyron to write terrible poetry and raise a bunch of fat, happy children. He thinks about it sometimes, though.) (Obyron does not want to imagine how impossibly unruly Zahndrekh's progeny would be, and is frequently, fervently glad that he's sterile.) (Also he's pretty sure 'retirement' is just what happens when you meet the wrong end of a pike.)

Circling back around to Ithakas being fucking weird, it's traditional for Ithakan dynasts to practice either parthenogenesis or self-fertilization, which is considered either taboo or just kind of gross in most other parts of the galaxy. (Not everywhere- but definitely a lot of places. Parthenogenesis is actually a fairly rare trait for necrontyr; it was considered one of the things that made Ithakka the Lawmaker holy by the original separatist cult. It's not something all of their descendents have shared due to the general weirdness/instability of necrontyr genetics.) So there's no mention of Oltyx and Djoseras's mother, because they only ever had one parent. (Does this make everything about Unnas ever so slightly worse? Sure does!)

If biotransference hadn't happened when it did, Djoseras would've been expected to start producing children as soon as it became clear that Oltyx wasn't going to live past the age of 20. (At one point someone probably floated the idea of ending the Ithakas-Ogdobekh war by marrying Oltyx to Zultanekh. Djoseras would've shot down that idea- and whoever suggested it- with extreme prejudice.) (Zultanekh still laughs about this on occasion. No one ever told Oltyx; Zultanekh certainly isn't going to.) (Zuktanekh would have suggested a contract marriage between himself and Djoseras; after all, would Zultanekh not have birthed the most magnificent sons to be seen in the history of either dynasty? Yes, yes he would have! Alas, it was not to be. Djoseras rejected Zultanekh's courting gift of sulfur wine, and anyway, Anathrosis and Unnas would have come together united in abject horror and rage at the idea.)

Ogdobekh courtship usually starts with gifts of food or wine, followed by fine metalwork- either weapons and armor, or jewelry. Ithakas courtship has similar beats, since they were an Ogdobekh subsidiary originally. They're more about subtle gestures and acts of service than material gifts, though. (Oltyx is not really aware of any of this; as kynazh, he would've been explicitly forbidden from courting because, again, Ithakas is fucking weird. Yenekh, on the other hand, would be familiar with the process, and probably had no shortage of suitors pre-biotransference. He was a little too busy being a war hero to entertain any of them seriously.) (His first true love is the sea the void fancy spaceships fancy swords duty to the dynasty.)

(Drazak courtship usually starts with fighting side by side in the horde; sharing kills, sharing food, sharing flesh. The hunger is always easier to bear when you find someone to share it with.)

Cryptek conclaves can get weird and varied as well; some are extremely insular, and any children born to members of the conclave would be raised and trained there. Others will excommunicate anyone who gets pregnant, because pregnancy interferes with certain schools of technomancy. (You cannot have a pregnant plasmancer. It ends badly for everyone involved. Chronomancy also tends to have unpredictable effects on developing embryos.) Those conclaves actively recruit new members from military and commoner castes, rather than relying on existing members to keep the population going. Generally, crypteks don't marry, because their legal obligations are to their conclave first, and then their patron.

Cryptek/noble or cryptek/merchant couples would be vanishingly rare, because most crypteks don't have the wealth or status to make a politically advantageous match. (Orikan is kind of an exception to that rule, and he would've had a number of people vying for his favor, though not so much in a courtship-leading-to-marriage kind of way. I'm torn between the idea of him slutting it up in the Sautekh court, or being universally repulsed by anyone he considers less intelligent than him. Could go either way.) Pre-biotransference, crypteks of different schools who didn't see each other as competition would be the most common pairing, but even then actual marriage would be rare. There's no wealth or power to inherit or share, so couples would be more common-law/informal.

Otherwise, it'd be bullshit academia rules dialed up to 11. "Did they...you know...publish research together?" "No, they were fucking in the library." "Oh, I thought it was something scandalous. Nevermind then."

[sad-outsider]

Why I didn't like the ending of R&R. Part 3. The heroine fights not with the cause, but with the effect

Destroying the Fold and the Darkling was tantamount to trying to heal an open fracture by applying plantain to it.

Do you know why the Darkling is not considered a villain, despite everything he has done? Because he fights the source of the problem - the oppression of the Grisha, the wars tearing Ravka apart and the parasitic monarchs. Is he being cruel? Absolutely. But does anyone else in the trilogy struggle with the above problems? No. Draw your own conclusions.

Do you know how this could be fixed? Do you know how to make the Darkling the villain that the narrative so strenuously portrays him as? Make the Fold the cause of oppression and war, not its effect. But, again, this is a problem with the entire trilogy.

What do we actually see? At the end of the trilogy, the Fold, which, admittedly, was indeed one of Ravka's problems, but by no means the main one, does not exist, but at what cost? The Second Army, which, let me remind you, together with the Darkling himself was the main military power of Ravka, actually no longer exists, Ravka itself is in debt, like silks, the wars have not stopped, the Grisha are oppressed even more, if you believe the Six of Crows, and the country is led even though resourceful, but still inexperienced children. Nikolai and the Triumvirate might as well have sent Shuhan and Fjerda an invitation to conquer Ravka, because that's exactly what was supposed to happen in reality.

Alina not only didn’t help, but did even worse, destroying the only person who, although not by the most noble methods, could really change the situation in the world along with Ravka’s only effective weapon. After this, monuments should be erected to her in Shuhan and Fjerda, because the “noble” Sun Saint made their life so easy!

As for the Fold, it was not necessary to destroy it at all, just to make a passage through it in order to open a free path to West Ravka. The Fold itself could be used as a defense. How? It's simple - expand the Fold to the borders with Fjerda and Shuhan. With a high degree of probability, this will stop the war, because sending your soldiers through a death trap inhabited by cannibal monsters in order to kill or dissect a couple of Grisha is political suicide no matter how you look at it.

But hey, this is a fantasy for teenagers, here the “bad guy” must be punished, and all the heroes will undoubtedly be fine in the end because they are so good, what am I even talking about?

To be continued in part 4…

[spartanexperience]

Feeling once again weak for the red old man so Areos hc time

- I have a story in my head for how they got familiar the first time! :) I'll make a more detailed post on that when I get the time, but tl;dr, Eos found and saved an unconscious Ares who had been fighting a powerful enemy, and patched up his injuries as he was bleeding Ichor (celestial blood). Bam, Ares was lovestruck. Then, because Eos had broken her wing while saving Ares, Ares did a rare kind and gentlemanly action, and gave Eos a ride on his chariot UuU Both to help her spread morning dew over the lands, and to ride her back home to Olympus where they could get her wing healed.

- Eos was SO flattered and surprised! Most gods did not usually pay attention to her, since she is only a minor goddess whose whole job is to herald the arrival of the day, of Apollo's chariot. So of course she is most of the time overshadowed by his radiance. Besides...she would have never thought that Ares, the terrifying god of war, could be so sweet and considerate to a lady!

- Ares in the meantime, could not stop thinking about Eos for weeks after the incident - her luminous light, her eyes, her cheeky smile, and the way she had saved him and fought a monster for him. Boy was he down baaaaad. However this all is exactly he was awfully shy about talking to her again, and resorted to avoiding Eos for a while like an absolute loser. Until Athena practically YELLED at him to go talk to Eos again LMAO

- Ares is that super showoffy jock boyfriend who is always trying to impress Eos. Be it fighting monsters in front of her, bringing her war trophies, lifting heavy stuff, you name it. He's that meme of "this one's for you baby" *throws a basketball and it misses the basket*

- Eos giggles and flutters her wings while blushing madly, even when he absolutely fails, because he makes her feel so special. She's been so occupied over the years on just being the morning goddess...she had forgotten how it feels to be loved like this.

- Eos loves to impulsively scoop Ares into her arms and fly. Too bad most of the time he wears his heavy armor, so she struggles flapping her wings LOL but whenever he is rarely in a civil wear, like wearing his pajamas, she will absolutely bridal carry him!

- Due to morning dew, Eos' powers are mostly water based. She tends to playfully splash dew at Ares every now and then. If there's water nearby, Ares will answer by splashing back. Cue a chaotic water splashing fight where they both laugh loudly and Poseidon yells "I'M TRYING TO SLEEP"

- Of course, being the goddess of morning, she is great at cooking breakfast. Ares is usually the one out of the couple who insists on cooking for the family. The "healthy military meals", as he says. But when Eos wants to spoil him and her children, they'll be eating the most high quality shakshouka and wine leaf rolls.

- I haven't remembered to mention this, but Eos is AWFULLY clumsy, whether it's dropping stuff off Olympus by accident, or tripping on her own wings. Which gets dangerous whenever she wants to try Ares' weapons LOL

- Remember that scene in Shrek 4 where Shrek and Fiona bond by playfighting with heavy weapons? Yeah that's Areos energy right there

- Ares often calls her "you crazy woman". With the most lovestruck eyes in the world.

- Listening to "Wild Thing" from the end of Strange Magic always makes me think of Areos too bye

- Like I drew earlier, Eos has a whole army of romantic nicknames for Ares, each one sappier than the last. Ever since the other gods on Olympus heard that, they have been mercilessly pranking Ares over it. Once, when Ares arrived to the Olympus court meeting, his name tag on his seat was "BooBoo Bear". Ares broke the table with his fists

- Eos can be clingy. Every time Ares leaves for a battle, a journey to faraway lands on his chariot, Eos either asks if she can come along, or fusses over packing Ares all sorts of food, healing ambrosia, celestial bandages etc. Deep down, Eos is HORRIBLY scared that something bad will happen to Ares. She does not want to lose him like she lost Astraeus and Tithonus :(

- Often, she puts a happy smile on her face so Ares won't be too worried for her, as she does not want to hold Ares back. But sometimes, after Ares is gone, Astraea hears her mom breaking down into sobs in her room.

- Remember that Homeric myth where a bunch of giants managed to trap Ares and imprison him in an amfora for 13 months straight until Hermes finally found and rescued him?

- Yeah, when that happened, Eos ignored her morning goddess duties entirely, to hysterically fly around Greece and search for Ares, causing dawn to never break and for the world to be stuck in a permanent nighttime, as Apollo was unable to ride his sun chariot. When she could not find Ares, she started to fear that he had died... even the cold Boreas stopped being salty at Ares and went to search for him, once he saw the way his dear mother curled up and sobbed and wailed hopelessly, as Astraea hugged her and tried to comfort her.

- Ares in the meantime?? The myth describes him screaming, howling and thrashing endlessly in the amfora. And so he did, causing the Giants to cover their ears like "holy shit we should have kidnapped the god of calmness instead". The only thing bringing Ares comfort in this claustrophobic, merciless long prison, was thinking of his family back at Olympus... Athena, Eos, Fear and Terror, young Harmonia, the wind quadruplets, Astraea...in a rare moment of hopelessness, he'd sob, wanting nothing more than to be free and get back to them.

- Lmao this got horribly angsty BUT as said before, Hermes found and freed Ares!! Accompanied by Boreas, who ruthlessly, mercilessly destroyed the Giants with a devastating, raging cold hurricane. And then he huffed at Ares "shut up I'm just doing this for my mom, NOT for you"

- Needless to say the reunion of Eos and Ares was heartwarming and passionately romantic 💖💖💖 And of course, both Hermes and Boreas got a CRUSHING hug and massive sloppy kisses on their cheeks by Eos. Hermes also got a permanent access to Eos' storage of figs and olives as a thank you.

[elane-in-the-shadows]

Red Queen Fan Fiction - A Promise Under Flowers

May 13th - Happy Birthday, Diana Farley

A/N 1: Here’s also a new story for her! Featuring Jealous Shade included for @elliemarchetti who’s been asking for this for years. Taking place during Glass Sword chapter 19.

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A Promise Under Flowers

Lightning surged from Mare’s hand through the sky and when it hit their silver hunters and their transports, it exploded with Cal’s fire setting them alight. Curses burned Farley’s tongue. Combined, Mare’s and Cal’s powers covered a distance that secured their escape, yet the necessity of escape meant another failure to save newbloods and their families, a loss against Maven.

Farley had stayed a little apart, up on the lookout for more enemies, gun ready. Now she joined the running team, still peeking over her shoulder as Cal and Mare reached her.

Both were out of breath yet appeared awed by their own co-work, Cal nicely rumpled and Mare frizzy with electricity, a shine in her eyes that could turn into a happy smile, if they didn’t face defeat.

Cal approached Farley, touching her arm. “It’s a trap, a tactic I recognize. We have to retreat.” Quickly, he shared rough instructions to proceed, keeping to glance at Mare. Casting aside thoughts of the newbloods they’d at best leave behind to fend for themselves, to maybe be killed or taken hostage, Cal was all professional, knowing what to say, if not for the touch of her arm. Strange he touched her, not Mare, when their longing was palpable. Yet so were the sparks around Mare. Not the time to set her on fire.

“Okay, get the Blackrun ready,” Farley concluded.

“Shouldn’t Shade be back yet?” Mare interjected.

Farley froze. She’d relaxed about him, trusting in his self-preserving ability but if the silvers set a trap, they could’ve caught him with the newbloods.

“… I should’ve gone with him,” she muttered.

Mare gestured. “We get to him now.”

She nodded even though Cal looked dubious. He shook it off; they couldn’t leave Shade behind. Farley handed him a radio. “You know our codes, message us if necessary.” He understood, adding further directions on how to move through the town.

Hopefully, Farrah and Harrick could hide the plane long enough. Hopefully, Shade was alive.

Dashing through the unknown streets was difficult enough, having to rely on the prince’s military teachings. What if Maven’s people varied the scheme? But Farley trusted Cal’s instincts, having learned his and hers worked the same way. She ran with Mare to the newbloods’ home, recalling their data. A man, 58, a woman, 29. A house on heather street. They twisted around corners and climbed fences, hoping to evade any sentinel pursuers. Fighting back would just draw more foes.

Yet as they arrived at the place, they found only two corpses, an elderly couple.

Farley cursed. She was already on the stairs when Mare called her – to the outside. She rushed away – finding Shade bloody and unconscious on a street two houses away.

“Check him!” Mare demanded in a whisper-snarl. She didn’t dare approach, again loaded with sparks. She’d planted herself on the earth to ground herself and charge off. Mare was seducingly powerful yet every day Farley witnessed how it isolated her.

Farley was already next to Shade before she realized how she’d moved there, her hand on his neck. “You promised me forever, you liar,” she hissed.

Nervously, Mare glanced around as Farley was desperate to find his pulse. “We need to get away, we should carry –”

“Before we know how injured he is?” Farley retorted. She could call Cal back, with a few others, though how long would that take? But Shade was breathing, his heartbeat singing to her. She noticed no strongly bleeding wounds yet when he finally reacted, looking into her eyes, it almost melted her heart.

“Silvers …” he groaned. “Attacked … took them out.”

Mare had finished charging herself off and risked a dash around to recon. “Two dead,” she confirmed, and joined them, gripping Shade’s hand. Her gentleness hit Farley.

“Dee,” he urged, slightly recovered. Almost more than me. Farley had to wash it off for good, he was alive.

“Yes,” she agreed, “Get us gone.” Despite their fears, he appeared relieved.

Back on the Blackrun, they could only conclude Shade fainted because of an ability, not a hit or concussion. He would not be able to teleport with such an injury, he said. But he was covered in bruises and his still healing ankle again so twisted he’d need get his crutches back. Farley was thorough with her ministrations and could hardly bring an end to them, even after checking their comrades, to Shade’s irritation.

“Don’t look at me like I might drop dead,” he chided.

Could she be sure he wouldn’t? He’d been hit by a strongarm before he jumped away to kill them and their companion.

They shouldn’t have sent him alone to gather the newbloods but their forces – if they could call them such – were spread thin with several defeats in a row, resulting in injuries, now including Shade. Farley was embarrassed his near loss affected her so, after so much death. When she tried to remember their marks that day, she couldn’t imagine the corpse seen in a hurry was the young woman on their list. Where was she, had she hidden in the town, left behind by Mare and their team, barely escaping Maven?

They didn’t have time to wonder. Mare was as protective as Farley when she pressed for another mission the next day – and leaving Shade behind. Only to arrive to dead bodies again. The day after, they were trapped by their own Whistle associate and found a whole murdered family. Mare freaked out over the dead baby so Farley could barely process it herself. Instead the memory settled in her bones and when she felt sick, it began to taste differently.

She knew she couldn’t afford to chew – or choke – on that. Even if … no matter.

Shade held her at night, aware of her own dead, and shared the weight of his. His pride gambled with his ability, letting him miss how strong he was. How fatal, like the day of his newest injury. He despised using it to kill, and did it anyway.

She could tell him there might be more than duty between them. How she wished for it. Still she let that option wither like she was afraid to answer herself.

Mare had another newblood on their list, reminding them of urgency, the chance to be quicker than Maven.

“Only after confirming his movements,” either Cal or Farley would insist each time, soon flowing back into their routines, Cal with the research, Farley maintaining the notch.

Going through the base’s corridors, she followed Nanny bringing out provisions to the rooms until she closed up to the old woman and stopped dead. “Not need to exaggerate my diligence, Nanny,” Farley called out with a chuckle when she faced her.

Wearing Farley’s features.

Nanny raised her hands, empty now. “Well, I’m done anyway.”

Farley shook her head. “Your ideas for mischief know no bounds.”

“My deceit, my dear,” Nanny countered, lifting one finger to chastise. “I am a weapon with many skills.”

“Absolutely.” Farley bit back a laugh and tucked Nanny by the sleeve. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

Nanny’s brows rose in expectation and Farley supressed her irritation about the topic, as well as facing herself. Her own surprised face was an unusual sight indeed.

Just get it done and say it.

“Your family didn’t appear on our list,” she began, “and as no newbloods, the Guard evacuated them.”

Nanny’s face clamed, waiting.

“So you never … none of them, your children, or grandchildren, showed any abilities?”

Crossing her arms, Nanny stared. “If they weren’t on your list?”

I’m not cowed by my own glare. Farley shrugged. “It was the first time anyone looked for newblood markers. They might be more to it we don’t know yet.”

“Hm.”

“No sign ever, Nanny?”

A shift moved through Nanny, having nothing to do with changing shape. Her gaze went over Farley, toe to head and when their eyes met, Farley didn’t see herself, but the old lady, giving her, undeniably, what had to be called a mom’s stare.

“Why would you, of all people, be so curious about this, Captain?”

She met her own face, so similar to her dead mother, when no had looked at her like that, with this mix of caring and teasing, for several years. Startled, Farley stepped back, barely managing to catch herself. Not fast enough. “I have to plan ahead, take responsibility,” she offered, poorly.

Now Nanny grabbed her by the arm. Her voice was quiet. “And are you doing that …?”

She only felt blood rushing to her head. She needed space to breathe, to think. Even though she knew. Looking down, she said. “I have to be sure.” In truth, she had preferred ignorance, not having to choose. Not worrying over nothing or a misassumption, or rashly reject when she craved to embrace. Not getting attached to what might get lost before it thrived.

This period of waiting should’ve ended with the dead baby yesterday.

Farley straightened, returning to business. “No need to hurry about this topic, Nanny. But if you remember anything –”

“I have no issues with my memories, ma’am.”

It pulled a chuckle from her throat. “Of course not,” she said, and turned around – to run into Shade.

Nanny laughed out loud and Farley, her hand grabbing Shade’s jacket to keep each other from stumbling, glanced back to find Nanny finally returned to her own form. “I’ve been waiting just for this,” Nanny said.

“What?”

With a pat on her shoulder, Nanny made to leave. “See true love recognize the right bride,” she whispered, as if she was narrating a fucking fairy tale.

“I’m not –”, Farley snapped but Nanny was already gone and Shade, right in front of her, blinked as he stabilized his footing, even as he had let go of one crutch.

“What was that?” he asked.

“She –” Farley gathered her bearing, helping him put weight off his weak side. She shook her head, taking Shade’s free hand. “She was delighted to test if you could tell us apart.”

“Hm.” He freed his hand and raised it, his fingers gliding, awfully slow, to her jaw, cupping it as if to inspect her to be sure. An excited shiver ran through her. “The face is flawless, now that you say…” He smirked and one long finger lifted her by the chin so her mind went through the times those fingers made her body sing. His face inched forward, neither closing the distance to a kiss, nor finishing his sentence.

She fixed his eyes in return and that was all they did for then, a pull that froze time.

She swallowed eventually and felt his fingers twitch in reply, his thumb stroking her jawline. She indulged to stay in the frozen moment, to sink into his amber eyes and drink the longing shining in them. “You can have me in whichever way you want,” she said.

His fingers twitched and he blinked. He didn’t retreat but time went on again.

She frowned, stepping back and glancing away, reaching for the dropped crutch. “Did you walk here?” she asked as she handed it to him.

“No, I …” Awkwardness had fallen between them and Farley regretted her advance. It had felt so true to her. In that moment, it was the one right thing she wanted to say. Was it wrong?

Shade pulled himself together, fixing his hold on the crutches. “I teleported. So I cheated, I guess, Jumped straight to you, rather than Nanny.”

Farley nodded, already moving away, back to her lists, preparations and schedules. And yet. “You couldn’t tell us apart by sight?”

He only smiled. It was a promise.

One duty pursued the next. When Farley wasn’t checking the notch and its inhabitants, she organized their training, looked for news on Maven’s movements and assaults, relocated people and ordered their resources. Another assignment loomed for the evening, Mare insisted on it. No one could talk her out of any of them, and what could Farley say? Gathering intel before striking was the only reasonable argument. She already had a hard time moving on from the people they failed to save. She understood Mare’s rush, knew how it was to prefer the fire of action over freezing hesitation – until it burned you.

The demand of their work began to sizzle, she realized even as she went through several lists at the same time just checking their food supplies before the operation. She needed the mundane distraction of it. The sight of that dead baby … it had hit Mare more than anything else in the last weeks. When they’ found it. Afterwards, Mare had returned to steel. That shocked Farley. That moment, Farley’s battle mind was still on as she urged Mare to escape. Only later, the memory made her sick as it ate through her, mixing with her own worries. To witness Mare do the opposite was unsettling.

Farley could be distantly pragmatic in the heat of adrenaline and necessity, and she’d repeated the drill countless times in the last 5 years – ignoring her heart. And her heart, horrifyingly, wondered what would be if she saw her own family slaughtered again. Her own child, that might not exist. She couldn’t even start to imagine. Wouldn’t she be better off without? Yet she found no relief in discovering to be mistaken, only plummeting loneliness.

Meanwhile, Mare moved on, striding into mission after mission like it was the sole thing to do. Maybe it was. Didn’t Farley do the same, filling every minute with work –

“I can take it from here.”

Farley’s head spun to Ada, joining her in the food stash. “I have my system.”

Ada chuckled, taking her by the shoulders. “Yes, I’ve figured it out.”

“You … of course you did.” Farley shook her head. Ada resembled Shade, in the way she glided through their unjust world proudly, with a powerful secret. And Ada was smarter than everyone else, too. She had these perfect manners that flustered Mare, Shade and Kilorn sometimes, but not Farley. Ada’s formality paired with her skills made her the queenliest person Farley could imagine.

She sighed, putting down her pen and papers. “You don’t need to double check.”

Ada merely smiled. “No need to double check,” she agreed, brushing Farley’s arm. “But about the Blackrun …”

“Yes, the Blackrun.” Farley rolled her eyes. “Good I didn’t plan for a break.”

“Glad to share work with you, Captain,” Ada said in goodbye.

A queen indeed, commanding and delegating.

Since the operation was already scheduled, Mare didn’t hound her to argue for it. It was a poor relief, aware that Mare had her expectations anyway. Maybe she was training instead, improving what she and Cal and the other newbloods developed as combo attacks, a thrilling advantage against silvers. Meanwhile, Farley was backup, in this case inspecting the Blackrun for water, armour, weapons, clothes, first-aid-kits, maps, cleaning – with the plane newly daily in use, someone had to take care of this. Just get this done and she could have an early meal and catch a nap. Securing the last first-aid-kit, she stepped on the ramp when a gush tickled her neck.

She spun to find Shade, reclined on a seat, legs stretched out.

He looked up to her, both wired and exhausted. “You have a moment?”

She breathed out. “For you, of course.”

He pointed to his injured leg. “I tried to convince Mare to take me along tonight but she refused.”

“And I should check if you’re healed enough to prove her wrong?”

He shrugged. “Please.”

With a tsk, she retrieved the first-aid-kit and crouched in front of him. The thing was so necessary it was already back in use. “I’m not sure who’s more protective of the other,” she muttered as she delicately undressed his foot, bending it slightly in all directions.

“And where do you fit in?” he asked. His fingers tapped on his knee.

“Being objective, I hope. So Mare believes me and you listen.”

“Oh no, you never tease me at all, don’t you?” he taunted.

Her head jerked up from removing his bandages. “What?” Of course she did, joking with him, but obviously so. She was as honest as she could … dare.

“You totally flustered me before, you know, don’t you?” Shade said.

She swallowed. “I …”

“Saying things like that ... what was that supposed to mean? What do you expect me to do?” He was genuinely upset and yet – it felt like rejection. She had meant it, baring her heart. But what each of them understood was another matter.

She continued her examination, testing his bare ankle now. He winced. “I’m … sor – sad to have confused you.” She held on to his ankle, drawing circles on his skin. She had spoken true, and now had to search for other words. She wasn’t sorry, didn’t want to apologize.

She looked up. “I don’t expect anything of you, that’s what I meant. I’d be … glad to hear your wishes. Try them out.” Back to bandaging, she gathered the supports he needed and started rewrapping.

He grunted. “That’s not what I got. I thought, ‘what could she want, this gorgeous older woman? What could she know that I have no idea of? Have I not been enough?’”

“Shade.” Even as she raised her head, she was flushing hot. Could he really have understood the opposite?

His fingers stopped their drumming, reaching for her hand on his leg. “You must have an idea of how impressive you are. Tall, beautiful, strong, a soldier brave and cunning.” He grimaced. “Scary. And experienced.” Meeting her eyes, he froze – and swallowed. “I mean, I didn’t know if you’d even notice me … as a flirt. And you didn’t, for long. I thought you must have lovers in the Scarlet Guard, most of all –”, he took a breath. “You’re so… stunning. How would I compare?”

Listening with growing surprise, she squeezed his hand to end his ramblings. “But I’m not. Experienced. Not in that way.” His eyes widened and she leaned back, crossing her arms. “Yet, aren’t you? From what Mare and Kilorn say?”

“Um.”

“Are they wrong?” She pinned him with a glare. It was uncomfortable and they had to get through this. Be honest, righting misassumptions.

Finally, he breathed out. “I’ve flirted. Kissing. Hookups. Pining. A boyfriend when I was 16. But nothing … out of the ordinary.” His face burned as much as hers. “And you … you were a long chase.” He smiled.

Softened, she inclined her head. “Because I need to. To be … chased.” She let the word hang on her tongue, testing it.

It was accurate enough.

“I’ve admired my girlfriend Giselle for 4 years before I realized I was in love with her. Even longer before we became a couple. After we broke up …” Death. Homelessness. Loss. The Cause. “I focused on the Guard for 4 years. I didn’t want anyone, even when I had sex two times.”

She’d engaged when her comrades celebrated, reciprocated flirting, even kisses at times, and when her arousal aligned with the occasion, she had taken to bed a woman, a man. And yet, despite those seconds of pleasure, she’d registered no desire for her partner, no lasting wish to be with any person, to do it again. She came to conclude her arousal showed as a physical need, a bodily function in line with her cycle she would better take care of herself, like hunger or thirst.

Only Shade had left her divided, confusing her heart so she assumed it a liar. She used to know the truth: Live for the fight.

“In several years,” Farley said, “I’ve only desired to be with you, to touch you, stay with you, wishing for more. You were a risk I had to figure out. And you waited for me as I took time, didn’t let go when I needed a tether. You took me as a I am and yet you changed me, so I wanted to gamble. You challenge me, all the time, and I want you to keep doing it. In every way.” Their eyes fixed on each other, piercing so hard Shade blushed deeply with the insinuation.

He bent forward and touched her shoulder. “But if you don’t like it?”

She snorted, relaxing her posture. “I suppose scary me will say no then. Or if you’re not good at it,” she added quietly.

That took him aback. “And that’s what I meant! Would I meet your expectations? Get close to you when you’re already close with so many others? Was I to your taste? I noticed you liked me, but in what way? Was I a fool to you? You were so easy with Tristan, so naturally physical I thought you must have been a couple forever. How could I ever be what he already was to you? I wondered how I compared to him every time he talked to me. I didn’t have his muscles, am smaller, thinner, can’t carry you or lift you against a wall – why are you looking like that?!”

She had failed to avoid an aghast expression, causing Shade’s suspicion. With a sigh, she reached for his hand yet needed to gather herself before meeting his eyes, “We’re being true today, aren’t we?” she said. “I’ve been with someone else once, but … also with Tristan.”

Shade looked like he’d been stabbed, to her embarrassment. He’d been right with his worries but also … not. “Like, for an hour, and didn’t care to repeat it, ever again.”

It hardly helped, his shock was too great. He must not have expected to have been right. “You and him …” Shade shook his head. “You were so easy-going, trusting, touching all the time …”

Farley sat up, cupping his cheek. “Because there was no desire between us. We … tried, and didn’t want that. We moved beyond it. If we could do that, part ways and still work together …”

“Do that …” Shade repeated and she didn’t like to think about the pictures in his head now. Her hand brushed his skin, and she added her other to play with his soft, ever-growing hair.

“Have you not listened?” she whispered, and pulled more sweet nothings from thin air. "You're so handsome, your sight gets me through the day, until I can't bear any minute I'm not touching you ..." Her words, her touch, sharing breaths, she put all in to dissemble his jealousy until he recovered, clasping her wrists and finally realizing how near she was, close enough to kiss. He almost did, leaning back at the last moment. “I get it,” he whipered.

Their foreheads touched, even as a shiver ran through him and he cleared his throat. “All this about a dead man,” he muttered.

That erased the foolishness of the moment. Farley held on to him tighter, grounded again on the Blackrun’s floor, waiting for a mission to start, with him, injured.

“Can’t have you end like that as well,” she murmured.

“So you finally promise to not get me killed?” he replied, breaking away to find her gaze.

Her cheek twitched. “Well, in this case, I can’t let you join today,” she said. “You still wince from your aches with every move and your ankle should rest another day or three.”

He groaned, his posture slumping. “If you, Mare and the rest look after yourselves.”

She shifted, fingers combing through his hair to cup the back of his head. Now he glanced up to her. “You don’t look enough after yourself. Almost like I can’t leave you alone.”

With a self-deprecating smile, he closed his eyes. “But you can’t say I’m a terrible soldier in every way.” His eyes opening, he added, “I’d ask for something to look forward to, but this wrecked” – he grimaced – “I’m not sure what I can offer.”

She sucked in a breath at his tease. “Your mouth will do,” and while she blushed, he giggled at the – unintended – double-meaning.

Fingers traced her face again. “In every way, you said,” he said, considering. “I’ll tell you an idea, for the time being.” Gliding off the seat, he sank to his knees and embraced her waist.

“In May, on your birthday, when lilac and wisteria bloom, I will find you, lured by the violets in your eyes, into a porch under the flowers whose shadows throw intricate patterns on your skin, tangled with your curls. I’ll kiss you, on the cheek, and trace the blossoms’ shadows down your neck, your breasts, your legs, your belly and – enveloped in their scent – I will taste what’s sweeter: the bloom or the flowers between your thighs.

“Do you like that?”

She’d forgotten everything but his voice and the images he created, despite the stress she’d felt this day, no, the last weeks. When she regained words, she answered, “It’s enough for now.” What a dream that was, to think of seven months from now. That was as good as forever but time and space left as they kissed. She wished he’d always chase her like this.

A/N 2: I’ve wanted to explore Farley being demi for a while since I do think it fitting her yet I was also irked that the label would mark her as a widowed mother who should stay chaste, faithful and single forevermore. I’ve written other stories where she doesn’t do that so it appears balanced to me telling it this way, just adding another angle to her. Writing this for her birthday, I’ve listened about 800 times to my number one Fade song, Lacey Sturm’s “Faith”, for inspiration, and heavily referenced it in the story. It still hits me. I love these two so much.

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