#his legend lives on in people's minds the same way a good story lives on

[mx-myth]

Li Lianhua isn't so much haunted or loved by the narrative as he IS the narrative. He's the young hero he's the cyptic mentor he's the disappearing lover. The story revolves around his life until it doesn't. At the end we're left with the same question that Fang Duobing and Di Feisheng have to ask: what happens to the rest of the story when the narrative is gone?

#what else can I say here #his legend lives on in people's minds the same way a good story lives on #yet. his life is gone #perhaps he is dead. perhaps he is alive. what matters is that we will never know #what happens to dfs and fdb when their moon (not their sun. the argument could be made that he is but he's their moon) falls out of the sky #lian hua lou #mysterious lotus casebook #mlc #di feisheng #li lianhua #fang duobing #difang #fanghua #feihua #difanghua #li xiangyi #mlc brainrot is real

[bratbby333]

i will possess your heart – satoru gojo

-this story contains very heavy nsfw content! please read at your own discretion!-

𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 content warnings dead dove fic- heavy stalking, violent obsession, manipulation, forced voyeurism, forced exhibition, drugging, mentions of blood, knives, use of restraints, plot twist, dub-con 𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 synopsis for as cocky as Satoru is, it’s oddly fitting. in his mind, everything belongs to him, including you. 𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 word count 8k

Satoru fumbled with a tripod as he positioned his camera onto the stand and proceeded to hit record. He was thorough, making sure his chair was perfectly centered before he sat down, staring at himself in the viewfinder while he fussed with his hair, inhaling deeply. A wide grin cut across his face before dropping back into lackluster neutrality. He looked down at his lap, his fingers ran up and down his denim-clad thighs. He snapped back onto the camera blank-faced before a deranged smile pulled at his cheeks.

Click

January 16th, 4:06 AM

I woke up drenched in the feeling of lethargy again—another night of only an hour’s worth of sleep. Nothing feels real when you hit a certain point. I’m plagued by the shadows, my entire life enshrouded in darkness. I don’t remember what things were like before. Day by day, it’s all the same. I cannot escape it—this anchoring feeling of despair. The emptiness eats away at me. I’m in search of release…of some sort of freedom from this pain. I need to fill my life with meaning, to find purpose in this accursed world…I think I’ll go out for coffee today. People watching brings me so much joy. They seem to live much happier lives than me.

Click

January 16th, 6:38 PM

My daydreams must’ve blended into reality because there was no way I created someone as beautiful as she was outside my imagination. I’m certain of it. She was sitting at the bar of the cafe down the street from my apartment, dressed in business casual—she probably works nearby. How kismet. The coffee was bland, as were most things in my life, but she awoke something in me. I hope I see her again. She somehow managed to clear the cobwebs around my heart. I think my life has finally found purpose. She is my driving force. I wonder what her name is.

Click

January 19th, 6:11 AM

Feeling well-rested today. Four hours of sleep is my new record. I plan to go to the coffee shop again. Back to the place where my eyes were first blessed with the mirage of her…where I first fell in love. I hope she’s there. People are so fun to observe when they don’t think they’re being watched…it’s simple psychology. The Hawthorne Effect. When humans notice they are under observation, they change. So inauthentic. But her? She never notices. She sits so obliviously, allowing me to take her in with ease. So good to me. She’s a breath of fresh air. I hope to work up the courage to speak to her soon. My heart soars at the mere thought of being in her presence once again. It’s so refreshing to feel something after all this time. I’ve been numb for so long, but she has set my heart on fire. She is everything to me, my sole purpose for existence.

Click

January 19th, 8:27 PM

I saw her again today. She didn’t see me. Just how I like it. She typed away on her computer like normal…she’s a hard worker, it seems. Driven and strong. And here I was thinking such beauty was a thing of legend. It's refreshing to have been proved wrong–that rarely happens. Oh, how I crave her. I know she’d make me feel whole again. She can save me from all this, I can feel it. 

Click

January 23rd, 5:13 AM

Only two hours of sleep tonight. But, for some reason, I feel better than ever… I normally do when I find a reason for living, again. It’s her…it must be because of her. She keeps me going; my muse, my inspiration. She’s worked wonders on me already and she doesn’t even know it, yet. I’m going to the cafe again today, I cannot wait to see her. Maybe today I will finally speak to her.

Click

January 23rd, 9:53 PM

She never showed up today…I wonder what’s going on. Maybe she had other things to do. It’s fine, really. I’m annoyed, honestly. I waited around all day. I’ll keep checking until I see her again. 

Click

January 28th, 7:06 PM

My sweet girl has gone missing. I haven’t seen her in quite some time now. This is just ridiculous. The woman I love…is she avoiding me? No, no that cannot be. 

Click

February 2nd, 8:31 AM

I haven’t slept well in days. I’ve been awake for twenty six hours now…my mind feels like it’s filled with static and yet, I feel sharper than ever. I’ve gone to the cafe every day. Still no sign of her. I’m slipping back into my old ways, the darkness is going to return any moment. I’ve begun to hear the laughter in the shadows again. They’re making fun of me, I just know it. I need her…oh, I need her so bad. How could she do this to me? Does she not know how much I suffer when she’s not around? If I don’t see her again soon, I will never recover.

Click

February 5th, 6:21 PM

I finally saw her again today. My heartrate spiked and I nearly leaped from my seat to kiss her, to hold her, sway her side to side in a deep hug. Instead, I slipped a tracker into her purse as I walked by her chair. I must know where she works, where she lives, and what she enjoys in her free time. She slipped away from me so easily…can’t let that happen again. I need to know every little thing about her. She is my one and only after all. It would be ridiculous to love someone so deeply and know nothing about them. She is too beautiful, I cannot let her wander around unsupervised. There are some crazy people out there—you never know what could happen. I can’t lose her. I must keep her safe. I will possess her heart. No one else can have her but me. 

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Satoru observed her for months, shadowing her all around town. He knew the woman’s routine like the back of his hand, before he ever learned her name. Sunday’s she went grocery shopping, Monday after work was her pilates class, every couple of Thursday’s she was at the nail salon, and Friday’s were seemingly payday–he picked up on her pattern of going out to nice restaurants every other week. Satoru eventually got an upper-level management position at a company that shared the office building with her job–he is incredibly intelligent and overqualified, after all; they would be foolish to not hire him. Now he could really keep an eye on her.

That was when he finally learned her name–the two of them taking the same elevator. She didn’t recognize him as the man who seemingly had the same routine as her–it’s one of the many reasons why Satoru loved her so much: her naivety. She looked into his eyes for the first time that day, her voice was soft and angelic, and the name that fell from her lips sent waves through Satoru’s body, the same name that would now be coupled with his gasping moans every evening as he stroked himself to the thought of her. 

With Satoru’s new job that brought him one step closer to her, he knew he could no longer watch her in the way he used to. His movements had to be more calculated, putting more distance between them than he normally would or hiding behind the deep tint of his car windows. If she saw his face too frequently, she surely would have caught on. Satoru smiled at the possibility of her never catching on…how she’d greet him with a smile and a friendly hug each time they “coincidentally” bumped into one another, giggling about their lives' odd synchronicities. Such a sweet girl. If only she knew.

He stopped into her job, a small gift bag hanging off his slender fingers, desperate to watch her eyes light up with the sweet gesture of an unexpected gift. He asked to see her, only to be informed by the receptionist that she had the day off.

It was no worry, he didn’t let that dull his excitement. “I’m a friend of hers, brought this in to surprise her. Do you mind showing me to her desk, I’ll just leave it there for her when she returns to work,” he said kindly. The lady working the front desk blushed under his piercing gaze and handsome features, nodding shyly and walking him to his lover’s designated area. 

Satoru thanked her, stepping into the cubicle to place his gift by her computer. His eyes glazed over her workspace. It was decorated with trinkets and family photos. He picked one up, his thumb tracing over her face. His pretty girl. That smile could bring about world peace; it definitely quieted the angered voices in his head. He scanned her desk, a moment of envy shooting through him at the thought of her dainty fingers dancing over the keyboard rather than tangling in his hair. He groaned internally, looking over his shoulder to ensure no one was around, before ducking down, rummaging through his beloved’s drawers. Stowed away in the bottom of the unit was a fuzzy, white cardigan. He brought the fabric to his nose, inhaling deeply, stifling the filthy moan that nearly echoed through the cubicle. He quickly tucked it into his jacket, took one last look around, and headed toward the exit. 

In the safety of his vehicle, Satoru whipped the clothing out from under his wing, bringing it to his face once more. He undid his belt buckle with haste, shoving his dress slacks halfway down his thighs before his large fist swaddled his cock with the fuzzy white cardigan. He nearly sobbed at the contact, the smell of his car filling with her beautifully floral perfume. He brought the free edge up to his nose, taking another whiff as his hand worked furiously against his shaft. He had never finished so quickly in his life, staggered whimpers and choked moans fell from his parted lips as fat ropes shot up onto his abs and chest. His cheeks were flustered a violent red as he wiped his sticky shame away with her top. After he came, then did his clarity, and Satoru’s body ached with the thought of how good it would feel to finally be sheathed within her sticky walls, rather than her soft clothing. I’ll be with you soon. Soon, my love. 

These feelings were getting unbearable. His overactive brain had him teetering on the edge of insanity. He needed more. His imagination was no longer enough to satiate the hunger that gnawed so deeply in his core, the distanced watching and hopeless longing for the love of his life created jagged rifts in his already damaged psyche. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take. A few deep breaths and the promise he made to himself to take action soon quelled his burning desire. But for how much longer could Satoru repress the demon that clawed through his body?

Satoru surveyed her while she ran to the bank, walked her dog, or took her car to the wash. But his most favorite place to watch her was from the bench just outside her bedroom window, engulfed in darkness. Pretty girl lived on the second floor, her silly little brain assumed she didn’t need curtains. She never saw him, but he always saw her. All of her. Drinking in the way her clothes were delicately removed from her pretty little frame, the way she turned and posed in the mirror–so good to him. How her skin glistened after she got out of the shower, the water droplets running along her body in the same way Satoru wanted to. 

He fell into a state of bliss, feeling spoiled by the show he was getting tonight. The lotion that she worked into her body, the beautiful set of lingerie that she dawned. His eyes buzzed around his sockets, elation flooding through him. Gorgeous, gorgeous girl. But his body went rigid and his jaw locked tight at the appearance of another man behind the love of his life. He sat upright, shoulders stiff and heart pounding in his ears at the thought of his sweet being in danger, he cursed himself for not being more aware of her surroundings on her behalf. But when his darling girl turned to the unknown man with a smile, greeting him with a gentle kiss with the lips that were supposed to be just for Satoru, his heart shattered into a million pieces. 

Oh, no. This just won’t do, my love. You are mine. 

Jealousy coursed through his veins while he looked into her room, rage balled in his fists as he watched a random man have her in the one way Satoru couldn’t. Not yet, at least. He must’ve been new in her life, judging by the way his nervous hands explored every part of her skin. Satoru laughed at this–he knew he could please his woman so much better. But betrayal nipped at the back of his neck; how could she do this to him? Had his loyalty fallen on unappreciative shoulders? No, that couldn’t be. Satoru knew she was better than that, he picked her for a reason, after all. She was just playing hard to get. 

You rejected my advances and desperate pleas, and now you throw your relationship in my face. It’s punishment enough that I can’t have you, but I won't let you let me down so easily.

Feeling at a loss, swallowed whole by his hungered desperation, he did what any rational person would. He moved in next door.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Satoru Gojo was your next-door neighbor. He moved in only a few months after you did. You were elated, chalking it up to a lucky roll of the dice that you had met by chance at your job; he had started working for the company that shared the office park with yours. It really seemed like things were on the come-up for you. He was kind, confidently intuitive, funny, and supportive. Mildly egotistical, but it worked for him. He always invited you over for dinner and movie nights and was a strong, dependable shoulder for you to cry on. You had just moved to the city, feeling utterly lost and absolutely gutted about being so far from your support systems now, and he was your first friend. You felt safe knowing he was just a wall away. 

On a random Sunday, you opened your front door to see all the food you loved sitting at your doorstep–weird, you were just about to leave for the store. You turned your head, seeing Satoru peeking out from his cracked door, grinning at you. 

“Was this you, Satoru? You didn’t have to…this is incredibly thoughtful,” you beamed, stepping over the grocery bags to give him a tight hug. “You’re the best, I don’t know how I could ever repay you.” But Satoru did, he knew exactly what you could do for him.

When you needed a ride to work, he jumped in to save you. The two of you worked in the same building after all. It was a crazy coincidence that your new neighbor turned best friend worked just a few floors above you. It’s such a small world, isn’t it? But it worked out perfectly for the two of you. 

There was a month where you were short on rent, and there was Satoru, paying the rest on your behalf. 

You weren’t catching on. Sweet, naive girl. Oh, how he loved you. I need to work harder to get her attention.

Satoru was not a patient man, but for you, he would do anything and everything to get you right where he wanted you, expertly playing the long game. It began with the fated sighting of you sitting in a cafe, and snowballed into something bigger. At first, he only ever observed you, maybe the minor occasion of overstepping, but as time went on, he couldn’t sit idly by. It was time to make his move.

His disruptions in your life started inconspicuously. Leaving for a date? You found your car tires slashed and windows shattered in the parking deck. Now there’s a police investigation. Bummer…gotta cancel the date. Had a guy over? Satoru’s apartment flooded. Weird… that was the second time this month. 

“You gotta talk to the landlord about this, ‘Toru,” you sighed. He had to stay at yours that evening. 

You cried on his shoulder, telling him that some guy stood you up on a date you had been anticipating for weeks. There was an electrical fire in that man’s apartment that night. Must’ve been faulty wiring...or something.

His apartment flooded again. He was back at your door. You welcomed him with open arms, of course. He’s so good to you, the least you could do is help him out, as well. 

Satoru, you’re slipping. That’s too many times in one month. Ease up or she’ll catch on.

Friday night, in a wild happenstance, he bumped into you while you were out with another man, enjoying a nice dinner together. He smiled warmly at the two of you, before politely dismissing himself. His cheery smile dropped into a demented grin once he stepped out of the restaurant as he anonymously called in a bomb threat to the establishment. You were so shaken up at the entire ordeal you practically begged Satoru to stay with you that night. He’d be a fool to turn you down.

Satoru got everything he wanted. You were just a tough nut to crack, is all. No big deal. He loved a challenge. After all, how could you not love him by now?

But nothing was working. You couldn’t catch the hint, even with everything he threw at you. He was always the one there for you, even when you weren’t aware of it. What more could he do to prove that he was the only person you needed? I’m reliable, witty, and loving… how can she not see this? He finally snapped. The last straw? Hearing your pleasure-filled cries while getting fucked by another man, your “boyfriend”. The lewd sounds ricocheted around your room, shooting through the thin walls of your apartment and straight into his listening ears.

Tsk, tsk. Now you’ve done it. Always been such a tease. 

For as cocky as he was, it’s oddly fitting. In his mind, everything belonged to him, including you. And with that, his demented plan was in full effect. He had hoped to spare you, prayed that you would fall in love with him before he lost his composure completely. But your sweet, naive nature had proved to be a difficult wall to break down. 

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Click

The sound of your front door’s lock disengaging echoed through the empty hallway. Satoru stepped in, inhaling deeply as he shoved your house key into his back pocket. It was far easier to gain access into your home than he had originally anticipated; he was fully prepared to break in, but all he had to do was tell your landlord you went out of town and you forgot to leave a key with him before you left. The manager of your apartment complex knew how close you and Satoru were, so it was an easy lie to tell. But it couldn’t have been further from the truth. You weren’t out of town, he wasn’t house sitting, and you had no intentions of having company this evening.

Seated at your desk, he opened your laptop and navigated his way to your iMessage settings, ensuring you could only send and receive texts from your laptop. Clicking on the messaging app, he stifled the gag that threatened to escape his throat as he clicked on the thread between you and your boyfriend, his contact name “my love” in your phone. He rolled his eyes, before drafting a quick text: 

-Hey, baby. I have a half-day at work today…dinner and wine at my place tonight? ;)

He grinned at the quickness of your boyfriend’s response.

-I would love that. What time, my love?

Satoru scoffed at the pet name. He doesn’t deserve to call you that. Poor bastard needed to learn his place. Heat rose in his chest, jealousy emanating through his skin as he crafted his response.

-3pm…Can’t wait to see you.

Everything was going according to plan. Satoru glanced at the clock beside him: 11:17 AM. It was time to get set up, he had a big day planned for you, and his first guest would be arriving in a few short hours. 

A knock rang through the apartment as Satoru finished lighting his final candle. He smiled wide, sauntering over to the door. He swung it open, grinning politely at your boyfriend. “...Hey, man…didn’t expect to see you here…” he said warily as Satoru stood to the side and gestured him in, a quizzical look painted on your partner’s face as he stepped through the doorway. The door shut and the lock was reengaged. “Where’s…” but before he could get his question out, his chin was met with Satoru’s right fist.

Satoru made quick work of dragging his body upstairs. He dug through the unconscious man’s pants, pulling out his cellphone. Satoru was disgusted to see that you were his lockscreen. This pitiful man wasn’t worthy enough to be with you. He rolled his eyes, unlocking the man’s phone and sending you a text: 

-Hey, beautiful. Come straight home tonight. I’m making dinner for us. See you when you get off work.

You smiled at the familiar ding of your phone, the notification effectively distracting you from your tedious paperwork. Your heart soared at the message, sighing deeply and shifting your weight around in your office chair. Your hand rubbed at your face in an attempt to hide your blushing cheeks. 

“What is it?” your coworker asked. 

“Oh, nothing. I thought my boyfriend forgot our anniversary cause I hadn’t heard from him all day…but he just texted me saying he’s at my place and is making dinner for us tonight.” A giddy smile couldn’t help but drag across your face. 

Satoru looked at the clock: 3:28 PM. You would be home in an hour or so. Just a few more things had to be done, everything had to be perfect.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Your heart rate spiked as you got closer to your apartment door, keys jingling against your palm as you fumbled with the lock, excitement making your movements a bit clumsier than usual. You entered and kicked off your heels, and as you turned to toss your keys onto the small table in your foyer, you noticed a small card that said “Read Me” placed perfectly in the center of the tray. You were perplexed as your eyes scanned over the note. “Go to the living room” was all it said.

You blushed, a nervous smile pulling at the edge of your lips as you crept to the other room. Your eyes went wide at the sight; deep red roses were placed in the center of the coffee table and every accessible surface around the couch was adorned with beautifully flickering candles. Another note was on the table, your fingers fumbled with the edge of the card as you opened it: “Have a seat, take a sip, and press play.” You settled on the couch, noticing a glass of alluring red wine to the right of the roses. You took a few deep, fulfilling swigs of your drink before grabbing the TV remote. Your face twisted a bit, examining the glass in your hand, the flavor of wine different than the one you were used to. It was a special night after all, your thoughtful boyfriend must have wanted you to branch out this evening. Where is he, anyway? As you pressed play, you called out for him, only to be cut off by your own confusion as Satoru’s face appeared on your TV screen. You watched with perplexity as Satoru recentered his chair, smiled, relaxed his face, and then smiled again.

No…no, no, no. What is this? You were locked in place, the melodious sounds of Satoru’s voice cascaded out of your surround sound system. He looked different though, his eyes were dull and low, his voice monotonous–his alarming difference in demeanor sent a chill down your spine. Your groggy mind inferred that this must’ve been an accident. Maybe it was casted to the wrong TV. I shouldn’t be seeing this…these are Satoru’s video diaries. 

You so badly wanted to tear your eyes away from the screen, this seemed like such an invasion of privacy. But you were entranced, staring intently toward the TV, though you didn’t really have a choice, your body was completely numb now. 

“January 16th, 4:06 AM

I woke up drenched in the feeling of lethargy again—another night of only an hour’s worth of sleep. Nothing feels real when you hit a certain point…” you fought to keep your eyes open, to piece together what the hell was happening, until your body eventually succumbed to sleep.

When you finally came to, you were laid out on your bed, fully nude. Soft grunts lingered in the air as you worked your hardest to refocus your eyes, your head pounding. You shifted your weight onto your forearms, your neck straining as it felt like your brain was filled with lead, eyes searching your bedroom for the culprit of the moans. One glance to the left, a quick look to the right, before you stared straight ahead at the wall directly across from the bed. Your body lurched in fear as your heart sank, the source of the sounds now looking you dead in the eyes: The man you had been seeing for the past couple of months, gagged and tied to a chair, his bloodied face twisted up in agony. 

You tried to call out for him. Your feeble attempts to drag your heavy body closer in order to console him were interrupted as the room was suddenly illuminated with the streaming lights of a projector. Your movements halted as you shielded your eyes immediately, the bright interruption feeling like a flashbang to your sensitive head. 

“We didn’t get to finish my show and tell,” a voice spoke up from the dark corner. 

“Satoru?? Wha…what is going on?” you cried out, tears spilling from your eyes while your hands attempted to cover your modesty. You tried your hardest to sit upright, your head spinning, unsure if Satoru was the culprit or your savior. Your body felt like it was anchored to the floor, your head throbbing with every word that tore through your chest. 

“There’s no need for all that yelling, sweetheart,” Satoru grinned, crouching down next to you. You winced as his hand cupped the side of your face, his thumb brushing away the tears that trickled down your cheeks. 

Click

Metal cuffs clamped down on your wrists before you could even register what was happening. A million unanswered questions spun through the room as you frantically searched through his blue eyes, hoping to find any sort of insight into the torment he was inflicting upon the two of you. 

“This is what’s gonna happen, okay? I need you to listen to me.” His voice was sickeningly sweet, each syllable that left his lips more damning than the last as he dragged your limp body up the bed, securing your wrists to the headboard and angling your body toward the projected video on your wall. A crazed grin lit up his dull face as he raised his hand, pointing the remote toward the projector. “You’re gonna sit here and look all pretty f’me while you watch these tapes, and if you move, if you stop paying attention for even a second…” Your stomach churned at how gently he was able to give such vile instructions. He turned his attention towards your partner, the blade of a knife twirling through the slender fingers of his free hand, “...He’s dead. Understand, angel?” 

You nodded reluctantly, unable to do anything else but comply with his demands. Your head was spinning, trying to digest the fact that this was the same person who had paid your rent and entertained your rants after a hard day of work. You listened as his voice continued to drabble over the static of the projector, recalling how bland that day had been until he saw your face. How he must’ve dreamt of you because there was no way your beauty could exist outside of his imagination. To you, it had been a normal Tuesday afternoon. To him, it had been the start of the rest of his life. 

The longer you watched, the more the realization set in that the sweet gestures he presented to you were not out of the goodness of his heart, but from the darkness of his spirit, driven by his wanton lust. Your face was slack, eyes wide in horror. Disappointment crawled through your chest at your own naivety. How could I be so oblivious? So trusting? 

Satoru’s eyes bored into the side of your face as he sat beside you, his hands rubbing deep circles into your bare thighs, pure elation shooting through his veins at his sweet girl finally having a look into his mind. The look of terror that painted your beautiful face made his heart leap with joy. Satoru’s giddy demeanor dropped as pained grunts emerged from the tethered man against the wall. He stood, closing the distance between the two of them, his fist encircling your boyfriend’s throat. You began to protest, to plead with Satoru to leave him be, but the rage that filled his eyes made you shut your mouth. “Uh uh…eye’s on the screen, my love.” Your head snapped back toward the videos, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as the muffled wailing of your boyfriend filled the room. 

As the final video played, Satoru returned to your side, kneeling on the edge of the bed as he  stroked the back of your head and rubbed at your cheeks. “Can’t you see all that I’ve done for you?” He grabbed your face, digging his fingers deep into the space under your cheekbones, forcing your lips into a pucker. “You belong to me, my love.” A deep growl rumbled through his chest, “You look so fucking beautiful like this.” He leaned down and crashed his lips into yours, his hot tongue bullying its way through your tight lips. Small whines echoed through your mouth and into his, and Satoru greedily swallowed up your sounds with ease. Whimpers of protest came from the wall across from your bed, but they were quickly drowned out by the wet sounds of smacking lips and battling tongues.

He broke away, a thick trail of spit still connecting the two of you. Satoru released your cheeks with a gentle shove, throwing his leg over yours to straddle you. He dropped his head to your neck, his white hair brushing against your skin. You winced as he licked a thick line from your collarbone to your ear. “I finally get to have you,” he whispered, nipping at your flesh, “You ready to give yourself to me, princess?” Your eyes widened in horror, your gaze affixed towards your boyfriend, blood trickling from the fresh cuts on his cheeks. Your head shook side to side, tears brimming in your eyes once more as your thoughts raced through your mind, causing a traffic jam in your throat. “I…no, I can’t…he’s…” Satoru’s palm covered your mouth, a groan erupting from the back of his throat as his eyes rolled deep into his skull. He sat back, staring down at you, his free hand running its fingertips between your breasts. “This has nothing to do with him…It’s just me and you now, my love.” Your head snapped up to stare at your captor as the rough pads of his fingers brushed over your nipples. A stifled moan teased the back of your throat, an exasperated look of fear in your eyes as you stared up at Satoru.

Your cheeks flushed as you held his gaze. He grinned back down at you before rolling the hardened bud between his fingertips. Your chest arched toward him, a shameful hum dancing from your lips as he played with you. A deep laugh erupted from the blue-eyed man at your unintentional reaction, his head thrown back with pure joy as he continued to pull at your nipples. He leaned into your neck once more, his teeth grazing the outer shell of your ear. “I knew it,” he purred, “Knew you wanted me, too. You were just playing hard to get, isn’t that right?” You shook your head once more, your words constricted in your chest. “N-no…I never wanted you,” you retorted, head thrown to the side, attempting to distance yourself from him, but to no avail. The weight of him anchored your lower half to the mattress while your tethered wrists held you in place.

A deep chuckle rumbled through Satoru, “So if I feel your pussy, it won’t be absolutely soaked right now?” A pathetic whimper escaped your throat as you shook your head furiously. The rolling motion against your nipples halted and his hand trailed lower down your abdomen. “Hmm…let’s see then, shall we?” he taunted, tracing your skin before rubbing your folds and dipping into your core. “I knew it…you’re fucking drenched f’me, sweetheart.” He shoved two fingers in, shallowly teasing your hole before withdrawing, bringing his sopping digits between your faces, turning his wrist as the dim light of the room illuminated the wetness, making it glisten ever so slightly. He examined them before meeting your fearful gaze. “Why did you lie?” He sucked his middle digit into his mouth, his tongue lapping hungrily at your sweet juices as his eyes fluttered shut. A hum emanated from Satoru as his other soaked finger pushed past your lips, “Here, have a taste, pretty girl,” his long digit dancing around your tongue. “So fucking sweet. You have no idea how badly I’ve been craving this.” 

“I’ll ask you again, princess…Why’d you lie to me? I thought you were better than that,” he teased, an insincere pout twitching at his lips as he cradled your chin. Your body thrashed as his hands pawed down your body, plunging two fingers deep inside you again. Your back arched toward him, his knee between your legs was the only thing keeping you open for him. “I…It wasn’t..ahh!– I wasn’t lying…I–”. Your words fell on deaf ears as a wicked smile crept across Satoru’s face.

“Shhh…shhh my sweet girl, just lay back and enjoy,” he smirked as he crawled down your body, laying himself flat on the bed with his head nestled between your legs. Satoru’s body no longer shielded you from your boyfriend, your teary eyes darted across his face, a silent apology being sent his way. Small gasps escaped your lips as Satoru continued to pump into you, the tips of his curled fingers toying with your sweet spot. When you stared down at him, the look of pure desire peered back at you, the dampness between your legs skyrocketing at the sight. A scarlet dusting of shame brushed across your cheeks at your clear enjoyment of all this, even though it betrayed every natural instinct you had. His tongue darted out from between his lips, the tip circling your swollen clit as his fingers dipped in and out of you, his movements spurred on by his own desperation.

He was delirious, suckling against your clit while his fingers worked into you with fervor, moans and growls echoing through the room as he drank you in. You so badly wanted to break away, to console your boyfriend who had an unintentional front row seat to you falling apart on someone else’s tongue, but you couldn't bring yourself to stop him, his digits hitting spots inside you that you didn’t even know existed. Pleasure ripped through your body as a tightening sensation crept its way into your stomach. The rattling of your cuffs echoed through your bedroom as you fought against your restraints, desperately wanting to tangle your fingers in Satoru’s hair.

Your hips bucked toward his mouth, your body aching for release as your pelvis thrusted against his flattened tongue. You didn’t dare look away from Satoru, for you knew there was another set of eyes affixed upon the damning scene that was unfolding. He continued to hum and suck and pump into your core as you tightened around him, his slender fingers quickly coaxing your orgasm from your writhing body. Your eyes screwed shut as your gushy walls spasmed around his fingers, your release painting Satoru’s overly-eager face. He lapped at you some more, working you through your orgasm as he cleaned you up with his wickedly talented tongue. 

A deep growl broke through Satoru’s chest as he removed his head from between your legs, the back of his hand dragging across his chin, catching the last of your release before he licked you off of him. He sat upright, craning his neck to look over his shoulder, “Hope you were taking notes,” a smug grin on his face as he addressed your watching boyfriend. He redirected his attention to you. “Did so good f’me, angel. Dreamt of that for so long…” he grinned, his tongue darting out to trace along his lips, hoping there was still some of you coating his face “...I could do that all fuckin’ day.” 

Your shaking chest heaved as clarity settled into your mind. Satoru untethered your wrists from the headboard, shifting your body so that you were on your hands and knees, head positioned toward the wall your partner was leaning against. Strangled sounds rang from your boyfriend’s chest as you finally met his gaze. Humiliation prickling under your skin at the realization of what you had just done. But you had no time to dwell on it as Satoru repositioned himself on the bed.

“He’s gonna watch me destroy you, my sweet girl,” Satoru was kneeled behind you, lining himself up with your embarrassingly soaked entrance. He grasped your hips roughly, sinking into you in one fluid motion. You choked out a sob as you dropped your head in shame.

“You’re so pretty when you cry. He can’t help you…can’t save you. Go ‘head, keep cryin’ for him,” he cooed, his thrusts deep and slow inside of you. Jagged moans escaped your throat as the thick head of his cock brushed into your sweet spot. “He can’t make you feel as good as I do.”

He leaned down, reaching around to cradle your throat in his hand, squeezing tightly as he turned your head to the side, his sharp eyes running up and down your contorted face. “Can’t you see that you belong to me, how my poor heart aches for you? How badly I’ve needed you?” His thrusts were agonizingly slow but incredibly deep, the pressure in your tummy betraying your desire for this to stop. “That’s it, my love. Feel you clenching down on me…you’re getting off on this, aren’t ya?” His hips rocked deeper into you, the new depth had your hands clawing at the sheets of your bed as pleasure worked its way through your trembling body.

“He doesn’t treat you the way I do. He never will. No one is better for you than me, princess,” he seethes, his hand cupping your chin, holding your head up, “Now look in his eyes while I use you.” His pace picked up, pulling you back on to him with his anchored hand around your neck. A broken sob cut through your constricted throat as he fucked into you, the visceral sound of flesh smacking against flesh and whines and cries spun through the otherwise stiff air of your room. He palmed at the fat of your ass, pulling your body to meet his rough thrusts. A choked cry left your lips as you maintained eye contact with your boyfriend, crimson droplets running down his face, mimicking the pattern of your tears. You mouthed a silent “I’m sorry” to him before your eyes shut tightly, waves of sinful bliss pulsed through your body with every mean thrust of Satoru’s hips.

“Gettin’ so tight around me–f-fuuuck–you’re close, huh?” Your face contorted in shameful pleasure as you nodded, your back arching even more to take him deeper. “That’s it…c’mon, my love. Need you to cum on my cock,” Satoru begged, his voice airy as he got lost in your tight, sopping walls. “Show me how good I make you feel.” His words ricocheted around your head as the building pressure in your stomach finally snapped, your legs shaking violently as your orgasm ripped through your body, splattering onto Satoru’s thighs and the mattress below you. 

A few more strokes met your dripping center before Satoru bottomed out inside of you, thick ropes of his pearlescent seed painting your spasming walls. He finally released his tight grip around your throat, your head dropping immediately as indignity plagued your trembling frame. He pulled out, spreading your cheeks as he leaned down, an animalistic growl pulling from his chest as he watched his cum dribble out of your pussy. 

Satoru rubbed soothing circles into your lower back as you worked to regain your breath. “You’re mine,” he whispered. He unlatched the restraints from around your wrists, a coy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth at the purple bruises that marked your skin. He locked eyes with your boyfriend, a deranged smile dancing across his face as he reached for the discarded projector remote. 

Another familiar voice flooded through the speaker, but this time it wasn’t Satoru’s. “...We broke up a few weeks ago. No, no. Really, it’s okay. She was kind of a bitch anyway.” Your pupils widened as you stared back at the man you had just been feeling sorry for minutes ago, rage mixing into the vast sea of emotions you were already feeling while you watched a grainy video of him snaking his arm around another woman’s waist. The two of them were laughing outside of his house before she leaned in to kiss him. 

“My poor sweet girl.” Satoru’s hand brushed lightly against your cheeks, catching tears that you didn’t even realize had begun spilling out. “I didn’t want you to have to find out this way, but I didn’t have much of a choice, did I?”

There were a million other ways he could have broken the news to you, but that somehow wasn’t the most pressing issue at hand. 

“An eye for an eye, right?” The same haunting grin that you’d grown to know all too well spread across his face again, his blue eyes slicing into your ex-boyfriend’s. “I can’t believe that my entire world was in the hands of someone so undeserving…” he redirected his attention back to you and recaptured your cheeks in his hands. He leaned down to meet your gaze, unexpected softness replacing his usual sinister demeanor. “What do we do now, baby? It’s your call.”

Your pulse was ringing through your ears. “My call?” your voice was reduced to a whisper as you repeated it back to him. 

“I’m going to kill him either way, but I want you to tell me how.”

You pondered for a moment, still coming to terms with the chain of events that lead you to this one vengeful moment. 

Satoru stood, sauntering over to your boyfriend, stooping down to his level while his hands hovered over his gag. “When I take this off, I don’t want to hear anything other than remorse come from that pathetic fuckin’ mouth of yours.” Your boyfriend’s eyes shifted towards you, then back to Satoru, as he nodded pitifully. The tie was pulled from his mouth. His words were broken, barely audible. “I’m -” he choked out. “I’m sorry, I -”

Your stomach lurched as a sharp smack met his cheek, the painful sound resonating through the room. “You can do better than that. You got one more try,” Satoru spat, his eyes burning into your ex-lover’s bloodied face as he wrapped his fist around his throat, jostling his head around in a fit of rage. 

“Satoru,” you hardly recognized your tone let alone the thoughts that were racing through your head. The last few hours of your life had been a blur. The words you heard earlier made perfect sense now, “Nothing feels real when you hit a certain point.” You were officially at that point. “Satoru, don’t. Let’s just end this.”

It was the first time you’d ever seen the silver-haired man look surprised. His eyebrow raised, a mix of curiosity and amusement glinting in his eye. “Tell me how,” he repeated. “I need to hear you say it.” 

You were in a dream. Nothing more than a figment of Satoru’s imagination, just like he had said. It was the only thing that made sense to you because there was no way any of this was actually happening. 

“Rip his heart out,” your voice emotionless as you gazed toward the blue-eyed man. Satoru groaned deeply, his dick twitching at the sound of your pretty voice speaking his dark language. The same depraved grin pulled at the edge of his lips as he looked back at your ex. 

“Well,” he smirked, “looks like it’s decided then…” Adoration swam through his ocean eyes as he looked back at you, “I knew I picked the right one.”

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Click

The lock of your front door unbolted as your bodies pushed through the door frame, giggling as four glasses of wine danced through your systems. Satoru wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into a deep, passionate kiss. “Happy anniversary, my love,” he mumbled against your lips. His hands grasped yours as he led you toward the couch. 

You nestled into the warmth of his chest, his arm secured around you while you gazed around the room. Your head spun from the wine-induced nostalgia that this day had inevitably brought on. You were still in the same apartment, only it belonged to both of you now. A blend of sentimental gifts decorated your bookshelf that the two of you had collected over the last year. A camcorder, pressed red roses, framed vacation photos, and the first set of diamond earrings he’d bought you stowed away in a heart-shaped jewelry box. But out of all of the memories that tied you together, there was one that stood out the most. 

“Should we open it?” you whispered, drawing lazy circles into his shoulder.

You didn’t have to see his face to feel his smirk. He knew his girl and he knew her well. He stood wordlessly, retrieving a jar from the highest shelf. He presented it to you, a smug grin gracing his ethereal features, the same look that was permanently etched into your brain the night he got it for you. 

“Be my guest, princess.” You unscrewed the lid, peering into the jar as the strong scent of formaldehyde tickled your nose. You smiled longingly into the container, the overwhelming feeling of love reverberating through your chest. There was something so beautifully poetic about Satoru’s limerence, the lengths at which he went to steal the heart of another in order to fully possess yours. 

author note: im so sorry for not posting my sweets,, i had the worst case of writer's block and i was actively trying to work on six different WIPs...i was losing my mind.

this was quite the heavy fic to write...i hope i didn't scare anyone away with it lol

alsoooo!! sending out the biggest thank you to @remlionheart for forcing me to finish this...my editor, my co-writer, the love of my life ♡ ⋆｡˚

© bratbby333 on tumblr. all rights reserved. please do no distribute. 2024.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen writing #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #gojo satoru #jjk x reader #gojo satoru smut #satoru gojo #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #gojo smut #jujutsu gojo #gojo saturo #satoru gojo smut #gojo x reader smut #satoru gojo x reader #satorugojo #gojosatoru #jjk #jujutsukaisen #gojo x you #satoru x reader #satoru smut #jujutsu satoru #gojo #gojo jjk #dead dove fic #dead dove do not eat #bratbby333

[lialacleaf]

To Care For A Woman

Chapter 1

Simon Riley x Reader

Summary: You join the army as a last-ditch effort to avoid destitution, but when you sustain an injury protecting Lieutenant Ghost and earn yourself a medical discharge, you're stuck all over again. Or maybe not... Warnings: Tension, Simon wants to care for you, small reader, a little bit spicy but not NSFW, man worrying about a woman's safety, typical cannon violence, deception I'm sorry it's unedited...

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

Simon's POV

A fear tactic. That's what Johnny called it. The infamous Ghost. The Reaper of The Night. The man, myth, and legend that was coming to act as a vengeful reaper and mercilessly take the lives of those who got in his way.

His reputation preceded him. A reputation he never intended to have. The point was never to be something for others to fear. A Ghost couldn't be seen. A Ghost couldn't be touched. Most importantly, a Ghost couldn't be hurt. Simon was safe if he was dead.

Until he wasn't.

You were just some stupid rooky who joined the army so they'd pay for your college tuition. You had the same sob story most people did. No money, no marital prospects, and not enough education to obtain a job that would sustain you in a struggling economy. No one was coming to save you, so you made a decision to save yourself.

"Mom and Dad were barely making things work financially, I couldn't be a burden anymore," you explained once as you sat next to Soap in the helicopter, your head barely reaching the shoulders of the men and women you were seated around.

It made Ghost's stomach drop, no, Simon's stomach. You were fragile and had no business having that battle rifle in your small, soft hands. People like you were supposed to have options. At least Simon believed so.

How was he supposed to give you orders as if he didn't know you had a higher chance of not making it back? He just wanted to leave you on base, wrapped up in bubble wrap for good measure. When he looked into your eyes there was still a softness there, a feminine light that hadn't been beaten out of you just yet. The idea of seeing it vanish terrified him. It made his chest ache.

You didn't need to know that however, and as far as anyone knew, Lieutenant Ghost despised you. He told you to secure the landing zone for when they got back or left you behind to keep watch on every mission possible. You were convinced the large, masked man saw you as a disgrace to the 141 and was embarrassed to have such a small fry on his team. At least that was the gossip you picked up here and there. He didn't want you to see any action, that much was clear.

"You're up late."

Simon glanced in your direction as he stirred the honey in his tea, his grip on the chipped mug, the porcelain stained on the inside from many years of holding hot coffee, tightening ever so slightly. You were seated in one of the kitchen chairs, legs folded in on yourself as you sipped at your own steaming mug.

He didn't respond and went about dumping his tea bag in the wastebasket. He needed to not look at you in your soft leggings that hugged your figure with that baggy 141 sweatshirt that despite being a size small was still too big for you. You'd be swallowed whole in his clothes, and that was a sight that a very primal part of his brain wanted to see.

There was something about you being so delicate that made him want to press his lips against the curve of your jaw and tell Price to go to hell for not assigning you more office work instead of sending you out with his men.

He had to keep his mind in his upstairs brain, however, lest he risk your life and others in the field. He wouldn't be responsible for you getting hurt.

"I'm sorry," you said all of a sudden.

"What for?" he didn't look up from his mug as he took a sip.

"For being...being a liability that you have to plan for."

He let out a tired sigh. "What happened to going to college?" he disregarded your apology.

"What?"

"Heard you tell Soap you joined the army so you could get into college, that clearly never happened."

You coughed awkwardly. "I got a little lost along the way." You didn't know what to study. Didn't know where to apply. Didn't know what you really wanted out of it other than a career that would make you money. "The 141 offered me a good salary, no need to waste tax dollars on a degree I wouldn't even know what to do with."

You shouldn't have to worry about that sort of thing. You should have someone taking care of all of that so you could read books, go on walks, and grow a garden. You didn't seem like the type who worked because they wanted to, you did it because you had to.

The part of Simon that had watched his mother go to work grueling hours at the local diner just to support his father's addictions hated that. The part of him that had watched her slowly lose her feminine glow and replace it with withered steel to accommodate the survival of herself and her boys stung. He wasn't supposed to feel this hurt. He was supposed to be a Ghost. But the overwhelming urge to care for you was making that difficult.

He set his tea down on the counter and let out a huff as he approached you. Your hair was wet, and you had clearly just come from the shower. He suspected you showered later to avoid the others, specifically the men.

And boy did that thought have him grinding his teeth. If you were his woman, you'd be using his own private quarters to clean up. No prying eyes, not even his own.

"What would you have done if none of that was of any concern?" he asked, and you let out a soft little laugh.

"You'd have me anywhere but here, huh?" you said with a raised brow.

Simon tilted his masked face downward to pin you with a stare that made you swallow thickly, brown eyes boring into your own.

He'd have you dolled up in his cabin back home doing whatever the hell you pleased, painting pretty pictures, baking sweet bread, he bet you would like riding horses too.

"I'd have you safe, y/n."

He didn't say another word to you as he turned around, picked up his mug, and left you to watch him go with wide eyes.

~

He didn't want to take you on the mission, but Price said they needed someone small enough to sneak in through the warehouse's ventilation system and gather intel.

Price told him not to worry, and that you were a clever girl. That didn't ease his mind in the slightest. He had the scope of his sniper trained on the building, watching for any alarming movement.

"Confirmed intel on the location of the arms dealer and their client, ready to regroup, L.T.?" you whispered into your radio.

"Affirmative, meet us at evac," he replied, motioning for Soap to follow him. The other soldiers under his command had been circling the warehouse from a distance, looking for any sign of trouble. He had just about allowed his shoulders to relax when the alarms started.

Ghost whipped his head around as a slew of curses left Soap's lips. "What'd the little lass do now?" he muttered, but Ghost didn't hear him, having already taken off towards the warehouse.

He was already planning how he was going to chew you out for not being careful enough when he saw trucks approaching in the distance. It wasn't you that set the alarms off, it was some rag-tag terrorist group on their way to rob the warehouse. And you were going to be right in the middle of it.

"L/N! What's your status?" he demanded over the radio. His men were already being pulled into the firefight. It wasn't until he was nearing the warehouse that he finally had eyes on you, your small form crouched behind a stack of crates.

"L/N, Move!" he shouted, providing you with enough cover to make a run for the evac. He watched as you took off, running as fast as your small legs could carry you. He was so distracted with you that the sting of the bullet in his shoulder came as a shock.

Seconds later he was knocked to the ground, by a kick to the back of his leg, and a strained grunt left his chest. His head snapped up as his attacker stood above him, prepared to finish him off with a bullet between his eyes.

But then he stopped, and Ghost's eyes narrowed at the sound of running feet slamming against the ground. He felt his heart sink watching you throw yourself at his attacker, knife in hand.

No. It wasn’t going to work. He was bigger than you, and you didn't have a clue what you were doing. You were going to die for him. Because of him. He'd never hated himself more.

He had to watch the man rip the knife from your hand and drive it into your knee, his anger boiling over as his attacker pushed you away as if you were as threatening as a sunflower stalk.

You fell to the ground in a sobbing heap, and that sound alone had Simon reaching for the man's sidearm despite the pain in his shoulder. There was a bullet in his throat before he even noticed that the Lieutenant was no longer lying flat on his back.

"L.T.? Where are you? Evac is here?" Soap's voice chimed over the radio, but Ghost ignored him as he hefted your small form into his arms.

"Shh shh, hold on f' me now. Done so good so far. Gotta finish the mission," he murmured as he squeezed you against his chest. "M' not leavin' you here," he promised, trudging towards the evac site.

"L.T.?" Soap tried once again, but Ghost didn't answer. It was too much to think, too much to hit the button on his radio as he tried to hold you in a manner that wouldn't make you cry out in pain.

"Almost there, love."

AN: Let me know if you'd like to be tagged! Next chapter will be in Reader's POV!

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #ghost x reader

[cafecourage]

That lack of requests is criminal. Don't mind me while I churn out a couple more. (this is actually helping with my brain-deadness so I'm gonna alternate between studying and dropping stuff in your inbox lol)

Hyrule with an s/o who is also good at magic (but can't heal worth a damn) and is able to give themselves fairy wings while maintaining full height. Like they can just become a hylian-sized fairy.

And maybe he finds out because he fell off a cliff and they saved him?

- Glitter ✨

Is is gonna be similar to another ask I got. But first some random Hc’s that I don’t think go together with the story I wrote but still is fun to think about.

- Hylians could gain the abilities to have magic through other means. Hyrule, himself, being an example of that. While I am all up for half fae Hyrule, but Changeling Hyrule, and Battle Mage Hyrule is also up there. Either way how ever you look at it, Reader and Hyrule are 100% covering each other’s backs.

- If Reader is bad with healing, I am going to assume they can do more specialized magic like defense up, shielding, etc. Not actually healing but it’s still something. I imagine that Reader and Hyrule are like a sword and shield combo, though who is who is ether or as you can shield the both of you and he can heal.

- Imagine if Hyrule was the one that taught you the fairy spell? You are just more adventurous with messing with it to change your height so it can stay the same. You guys just teach each other since you’re the only two that know how to even do magic in the first place. These are just some idea’s though. If Reader was half-fae they would probably already be able to do it and can teach him too.

When your mother, Great Fairy Mija, offered your help to the Champion on his latest adventure. You didn’t expect much to come from it, nor for Link to say yes in the first place but that was beside the point. Honestly it didn’t phase you to much that there was more Link’s in the group. If anything you had heard it before from other Great Fairies that a bunch of heroes have gotten together before. And you can assume it wont be the last time this was going to happen.

What you didn’t expect was how fast they clicked and adopted each other. Though living in a Fairy Fountain you were kinda used to quick adoptions, so it wasn’t a big deal just surprising.

You were a lot slower to integrate into the group as you weren’t a hero for courage so less predictable compared to all the Link’s. Which was fine as you knew the champion, now known as Wild, had the same issue with trusting people too.

So having eight more insane semi impulsive guys to befriend wasn’t too difficult. Especially when you did openly used magic to help them in battle though you made sure to get consent before hand. You heard the stories you heard what happened to some of them it is only fair. The Hero of Twilight and Legends you were especially careful around. Rather be safe than yelled at.

You quickly noticed that the traveler who was given the title of Hero of Hyrule, was similar to Wild. It felt easier to befriend him than anyone else. Which was fun. You, him and Wild typically tended to stay together as giving your home Era’s wandering was commonplace. Hyrule did tell you about his magic when healing was needed, “You’re half fae though.” The Vet pointed out as Hyrule took over bandaging the Captain. “Wouldn’t that be natural?”

The answer was actually longer than it needed to be but that wasn’t a story for now, “well. Yes, but no.” It was also convoluted to explain and honestly with the fight everyone just went through, again it was a story for another day. “The short of the answer is that I don’t have the ability to do it safely to others… or myself.” That only earned them a quizzical look but before the conversation could be continued it was side tracked. Which was good for you.

You would of explained once everyone was better and relatively settled as it was a weird and long explanation of Magic not really being something Hylians could do in the first place with out items. Of course there were acceptions, Princesses, Gifts from the Goddess, etc. You at least wanted to tell Hyrule what you knew as he seemed to get his magical abilities in an unnatural manner. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that it was on purpose for him to find these things but, the guy literally held on to the triforce for years before secretly giving back to the princesses to hide it away.

Monsters are still after him for his blood after all.

The horror you felt when you heard him whisper that can be still felt to this day. “Why?” You asked.

“Because, thats where it was.” He whispers softly as you two walked through the path around the canyon heading into hebra mountain. The idea was to find Zelda who was near the stables waiting. Honestly there was a voice in the back of your mind that was telling you to go see your Aunt who was by Rito Village but that was probably a week trek out on foot.

“Still that magic isn’t really information that would typically be spread.” You commented offhandedly as thats not how blood magic worked. You think. It’s not like you tried. Forbidden magic is forbidden for a reason. “But Monsters are Monsters I guess.” You shrugged looking to the side into the snow. The path to hebra wasn’t the safest as it was the hardest reason.

“Well it just did…” You looked back at Hyrule there is slight movement in the snow. Unfortunately you couldn't get out the words "Lizalfos!" Before everything was in disarray.

It was quick to lose yourself in battle, but you tried to keep your calm as you fight back. Making sure that those who need it get their buff. Typically stronger people get defensive buffs, those who work better with speed gets a tad boost for that. You look to your left where Hyrule was.

Only to see him get pushed back loosing his footing. That alone made you dash forward as you feared the worse. The worse being what happened.

Hyrule fell into the Tanagar Canyon.

Just to spite that monster you sent a lighting spell his way before diving off the Canyon after the Hero. You reached out to grab him as you focused on your own magic again. Transforming your form slightly to a more natural state for you. Wing's sprouting behind you as you slowly pull him in your arms. You didn't know if you were strong enough to fly the both of you up. However you aimed for a better landing as you turn up and a slow descent.

It wasn't a soft landing but nether of you were hurt. "Are you ok?" you asked setting Hyrule down as you had to hold him a bit strangely.

"Yeah... Just surprised." He said calming his heart, he looks up at you "thank you." His gaze shifts up to the Canyon wall. "How do you think we can get up?"

"Uhhh..... Magic?" You suggest as you look at him. "You have that fae spell right?"

Hyrule made a face like he really didnt want the other to know about it "yeah... I guess."

"I can carry you in that form! Don't worry."

"That's... some how worse."

#twilight (not lu) speaks #linked universe x reader #luxreader #linkeduniverse x reader #fairybread

[unknownhomosapien]

Wanna add some more context to reverse!au for better understanding

(Added more sickness to his face cus I still like trickstarbrave's art teehee)

Basically all canon events till "foul murder" is...canon. It wasn't his will to become a god, but Nerevar's mind got corrupted in some ways because of heart of lorkhan, so he ready to use god powers to reach his goals. His ways to deal with tribunal are much more sinister, so he as well as madman.

Somehow even Almsivi thinks that it was Dagoth Ur who has got awakened (very tough awakening though). Nerevar using this legend as profit. Everyone seems to believe that Nerevarine prophecy is true, even ashlanders. Wonder how he deceived them.

If Dagoth Ur using the magic to fight, Mora Ind using his strength. Don't be fooled by his exhausting look, this man is able to cut a massive rock with trueflame in the first try as well as crush your head with one hand.

He is using the magic, still. Prostetics looks advanced, but has bad mobility, plus constant pain, so, he learnt how to levitate and use it effectively in the attacks. Also, Nerevar somehow developed resistance to magic, and its not easy to beat him only with the spells.

His god voice echoes, but can change depending on mood. Main difference that in moments of anger it echoing in higher tone, almost cutting the ears.

Mora Ind has his own followers, despite having sixth house as source to threaten people. He is not fully controlling them though. Despite being blind and using raw magic, Nerevar is able to "see" through eyes on his hands, and through his followers. This is part of the deal: they're serve him with no hesitation, him is protecting them from corprus (except sixth house sleepers), saving their will, but has right to take control whenever he wants. And he has much more influence on dissident priests. But only few loyal knows who is truly sitting in the red mountain.

Godryn is quite weak, despite being tall, so he is highly counting on his charisma, magic abilities and alchemy skills. He is suffering from rosacea, migraines and epilepsy, thought last one comes from migraines and happens in the moments of high stress, and has uncontrollable and incurable magic origin. Blessing and a curse in the same time.

This man loves to be good looking and morning routines are his best friends. Only when being alone, he allows himself to look sloppy.

He is not a Nerevarine. How do you think he'll become one if Nerevar is alive? But Godryn surely gonna doubt tribunal much and make his own investigation because of curiosity. Will meet Almsivi eventually.

Anarenen gonna have main part in his story and will become some kind of love interest before meeting Nerevar? Anyways, they both slay queens in boring Ald'ruhn with dumbass Redoran around.

He gonna be suspicious and paranoid in the first chapters. Godryn is not a reckless one, and tryin to make decisions with thinking twice.

Godryn is 24 years old and born in 3E 403. He is an adult, but very unexpirience in live, so, there are gonna be some dumb choices. Recognising himself as Voryn will help in some ways, but dunmer is not gonna BE Voryn. He doesnt wanna be "someone" except himself. He tired of that.

#reverse au #indoril nerevar #mora ind #godryn ovatur #well im not sure it will help to understand fic but you free to ask questions #my brain has own cockroaches that needs to be systemized teehee #free to ask uwu. i def forgot to say something #not sure what exactly so im gonna be happy to answer questions cus his au now is my brainrot

[after-witch]

Good as Gold [Yandere Dragon x Reader]

Title: Good as Gold [Yandere Dragon x Reader]

Synopsis: You’re his treasure, like anything else. 

Word Count: 1000ish

Notes: yandere, objectification, kidnapped reader, mentions of implied sex

The room, despite its glow from the mountains of hoarded treasure--blood colored jewels and creamy pearls and mountains of gold, all twinkling in the candlelight--is cold. 

This doesn't surprise you. The room is always cold, when he is away.  Without the warmth of his enormous body, without the fire always burning deep in his belly, it can never quite get comfortable for you.

You often wonder if it’s intentional, this cold. To make you eager for his return. Or is it, like so many things, simply his inability to notice or care about how the world differs for you, his fragile little human? 

Of course, if he left you dressed in something more than a flimsy gown, made from gauzy fabric better suited to fairies, you might be less chilly. But you had no say in that--what you wore. Or what you ate, or what you did, or where you went.

You were no longer a complete person, after all, but a prize. A treasure. Another trinket added to his collection, like his precious diamond necklaces or perhaps, more aptly, the occasional animal he permitted to live. A rare bird with feathers that looked like sparkling silver, kept in a black cage that allowed for a becoming contrast with the bird’s natural colors.

At least you had freedom that the bird did not. You could walk around. Chained, yes, but still. You hummed and twirled your ankle, and the melodic sound of the pure gold chain attached to it was as familiar as your own breath. It was only your ankle that was chained now. 

Before, it had been both wrists, both legs--even your neck. As the years passed, most of these were removed. The chain on your ankle is impossibly long, and you can go almost to the end of the massive treasure room, as long as he hasn’t wound it tighter in response to any perceived disobedience. But you were still chained, always. Around your ankle, when he was in a good mood. Around your neck, when he wasn't. Or when he was feeling particularly possessive, regardless of your behavior and the temperament he found himself in. You preferred it when he was content for you to merely exist in the same space as him. For when he got into those moods, red-hot and enamored with nothing but making sure every single piece of treasure was accounted for (you most of all) it tended to end with you, sore and spent, weak and wishing you were a golden statue he admired and not a being of flesh and blood. -- "Darling, precious, irreplaceable... have I told you that you are all these things and more to me?"  His voice is low and rumbling, the words themselves feeling like they were carved from a mountain. A long, crooked claw traces its way across your shoulder. It slices through the fabric like water, leaving it draping down your shoulder. "Yes, always." You regard the torn fabric with a small frown. "I never tire of hearing it. But would you mind not destroying my clothes?" He huffs, nostrils glowing red, and you raise your eyebrows to him. "For they were a gift from you, and so, I hate to see them destroyed." He laughs, and his laugh fills the room, large and loud and old. His laugh has the aches of a thousand years in it, and you wouldn't doubt that his age might very well be close to that number. You remember when you doubted dragons existed at all. They were rumors, legends, things the village feared, but which had not touched your life or your mother's or your grandmother's. Her mother, your grand-mama told you once, swore she saw a dragon snatch up a man and gobble him right up in thin air. But her grand-mama said lots of things. It doesn't matter now. Because you know that dragons are real. That the stories of their massive hoards of treasure are no exaggeration. And that they, if your dragon master is anything to go from, love to keep people just as much as any gold coin. If the person is just right. Like you. "I have a thousand dresses you may wear instead of that slip," he says, though his eyes roam the way the dress hugs your body, the slightly sheer fabric that lives little to his expansive imagination. "If it rips, I shall give you another one. Will that please you?" His claw traces along your chin. It could cut to the bone in seconds. Instead, it gently raises your chin until you're looking at him. "If it pleases you," you tell him, sweet as any marigold, "then it pleases me." Another laugh, this one ending in something akin to a croon. "You really are a treasure. Perfect manners. Perfect mouth. There is no woman in the kingdom like you, nor the world. You may have my word on it.” You shrug, lightly, smiling. 

His words recall a memory, one of the few he does not share with you. Once, while exploring a new area of his hoard while he slept, you found a skeleton. It was small-framed. A woman, from the clothes. It wasn't in a heap of bones like the treasure-seekers and dragon-hunters and glory-hounds who died at your dragon's claws or in some cases, his fire.

Instead, the skeleton was laid out neatly, inside a jewel-encrusted box. Some fabric still clung to the bones, though most of it had rotted away. you found the skeleton and... said nothing. did nothing. You were afraid to ask. No, that wasn't it. You were afraid to know who it was, and what that meant. You brush away the memory, for your own sanity's sake. "I missed you while you were away," you tell him, leaning your head into the rigid claw. "Please tell me you won't leave for that long again. It's difficult without you here." "Cold, you mean?" He asks, humor in his tone, but something else underneath. For all the dragon's size and strength, he was terribly lonely and terribly afraid of coming up wanting in your eyes. It was almost pitiful. Almost. You hum, half-affirming. But you know better than to leave his vulnerability open, like an untreated wound. That never ended well. "Of course it's cold. But it's empty, too." "Empty!" He says, scoffing. He gestures his head around the room. When he breathes out through his nostrils, the air warms it like a stove fire in the kitchens back home. "My mountain is filled with treasure, is it not?” Your hands, small and delicate compared to everything that he is, reach out towards him. He acquiesces, slowly, and lets you stroke the side of his face. The scales are rough and prickly as you pet him, loving, soothing. "What do I care for the gold coins or jewels? They cannot talk to me, or sing to me, or ask me about my day." The dragon snorts, pleased, and the tension in your stomach releases into slow warmth. "What did I tell you? Irreplaceable treasure... that's what you are." The gold chain on your ankle clinks as you climb up on a pile of blankets and beds, designed to give him easier access to your person.

He presses his snout, slightly damp, against your body.

“You are worth more than anything else in this room,” he says, and his voice has taken on something soft and wistful now. “I swear it.” 

“So you say,” you reply, as lightly as you can.

But your mind returns to the skeleton in the box, and her rotting gown, and her empty eye sockets.

#yandere #yandere oc #yandere dragon #afterwitch writes #folklore writing #original stuffs

[skittlewrites]

LU Boys Headcanons

Hey! I have some headcanons that I'd like to share, and most of these will make, at the very least, brief appearances in my stories. Some of the boys have more than others, but oh well.

To start us off, we have Wind!

-He certainly looks small and sweet, but he's a terror when he's angry.

-He's super protective of those he claims as family.

-The wind reacts to his emotions and feelings without prompting. It has a mind of its own when it comes to its champion.

-His hair is bleached blonde from all of the time he spends out on the ocean (He despises the cap of the hero's clothes).

-He can dual wield! I feel like this would be very fitting for him (This has made an appearance in ATS as well :) ).

-Full name is Link Aalto (Aalto is wave of water in Finnish)

More under the cut!

Wild

-He's super good with animals. Small, large, feral, domesticated, anything really. He understands them to a certain extent, and they generally understand him as well.

Legend

-He's one of the more graceful ones in the group, but the most graceful.

-Doesn't really have an issue with Hylia, and is a fan of Din and Nayru (During the Oracle of Ages/Seasons, he made good friends with them both, imo).

Time

*shrugs* nothing yet

Hyrule

*shrugs* nothing yet here either

Twilight

-Country accent 100%. When they're in his Hyrule, it gets so crazy thick and the others tease him relentlessly about it.

-Loves pumpkins. As Ordons' main crop, he's a huge fan of all things pumpkin, and he and Sky trade recipes.

-Best friends with Dusk, evolved into a relationship.

-Loves to gossip with Warriors.

Four

-Speaks the same dialect of Hylian that Sky does (Ancient Hylian), so they tend to gravitate to each other when they get frustrated or overwhelmed.

-Has a bit of an accent compared to the others, but its nowhere near as prominent as Sky's.

Sky

-He's the most graceful in the group. His fighting looks very similar to dancing in the sense that its fluid and smooth.

-He dances with Fi. During his quest and once Sun was stuck in the crystal, Fi would occasionally force him to slow down and stop pushing himself so hard. They would dance together, Fi teaching Sky some of her favorite dances, and Sky teaching her Skyloftian dances in return. They both loved it.

-Sky hasn't danced since Fi returned to the Sword.

-Sky has a prominent accent. In my head, it sounds kind of like Fi when she speaks in-game, melodious, smooth, and ancient.

-His ears are very expressive. They move with his expressions. Skyloftians also have much better hearing than other Hylians. This comes from spending so much time on their Loftwings, and the necessity of hearing others flying with them, and needing to be aware of Skytails.

-Sky will startle and/or spook easily, but he doesn't get genuinely terrified very often at all. There's only a few things that will truly scare him.

-He's really good with anything with wings, and cats. Since Remlits don't exist outside of his era, this translates over to cats imo.

-Uses a lot of statistics and probabilities. This carries over from Fi, and he's aware that he does it, but tries not to most of the time (Sun thinks its adorable).

-His anger is quiet. He doesn't typically yell, but he gives off an entirely different vibe when he's angry. Depending on the situation, he can sometimes be quick to frustration, but he'd never take it out on anyone except himself.

-Speaking of, he feels like most things are his fault. Huge guilt complex. Sun and Groose hate that he feels this way, but despite their best efforts, he finds a way to blame himself for most things. :(

-He's a silent crier. He's always been on the quieter end, and he doesn't like to bother people when he's overwhelmed or upset.

-He's very light. I feel like most of Sky's 'bulk' comes from his layers. Living in the sky, the nights must be frigid, and the wind certainly doesn't do anything to help. So, he wears multiple layers, all Skyloftians do. I fee like Skyloftians might have a different bone structure than other Hylians, especially as the Loftwings carry them around, and can catch them out of freefall so easily.

Warriors

-Loves pumpkin soup. Had some when he was on Skyloft in the War of Eras, and has wanted more ever since.

-He knows Fi fairly well, having spent so much time with her during the war. He and Sky sometimes talk about her for hours at a time.

-Gossips with Twilight.

-He can understand a good deal of Ancient Hylian, but not as much or as well as Four can.

-He struggles on and off with speaking. Proxi hangs around him more often than not, and she'll help out when he needs it.

Good grief, I didn't realize how much typing this would be. But regardless, here you have it! Sky's got more than the others because I love him and I have a lot of Feelings about him. I know that Time and Hyrule have nothing, but I don't know their characters very well, so I just don't know what to think about them. Lol.

Have a good day!

#linked universe #lu sky #lu twilight #lu wind #lu headcanons

[dissonance-in-a-major]

(hxh) PHANTOM TROUPE // KURTA CLAN theory

...debunking PT did it

So let me preface this by saying this was 100% inspired by a tiktok comment in a hxh phantom troupe's religious symbolism video back in 2021 (:/). The person who commented made such an impact I screenshotted their comments which unfortunately are not in correct order and messaged them this year (i just know they think im weird) but they never responded. I'd give their @ but its their government name (I take it) so msg me for deets. All credit goes to them as I'm just polishing and tidying these thoughts.

First op talks about Meteor City, a junkyard city inhabited by outcasts. People who live there do not exist on any official records and are treated horribly from the outside, people are taken from Meteor City for crimes, prostitution, slavery and no one's doing a thing to stop it. People go outside and face racism, like the one guy accused of a crime he didnt commit and when the truth is shown no one does anything (think op meant The Bum Incident, vol 11, Chapter 102). These people get no justice, they're just used and this is where the duality of Chrollo comes in, he is a demon to the outside world because he is challenging the gods but also a Jesus figure for the underprivileged Meteor City. Even his reverse St Peters Cross on his jacket means that he feels unworthy to be crucified in the same manner as Jesus. Thats his way of saying he doesnt see himself as worthy of savior. His priority is the Troupe so they can together be seen to the outside world, they are literally a troupe of phantoms, trying to be recognized. This is why when he asks Neon if she believes in ghosts and she says no, she is the oppressor that doesn't understand the one hurt.

If you read the story w this idea in mind you start to observe that the Troupe only attacks people hazardous for the City (mafia, ants) or when they want revenge for one of them killed so its weird they are presented in a positive almost heroic light. Only exception that sticks out to the story? Kurta massacre.

The og commenter wondered why it was that the Troupe was always presented in a positive light. We've known the Phantom Troupe does acts of good alongside the bad but we also haven't seen anything entirely "evil" commited by any of them yet. Most of the legends surrounding them are hearsay. And though they could have easily killed Gon and Killua, they don't, twice. Also, Uvogin when taken by mafia/Kurapika says if freed, they wouldn't hurt them as they are not the target.

Op comments on how narrative should be filtered as its being commented via Gon- a non objective source, they claim that the 1st arc feels like a kid show whereas chimera arc feels dark, thats not to say it is actually like that but as Gon's perspective changes so does the narration. At first when innocent people die, he doesnt really care but in chimera we need a narrator to explain as Gon is too biased at that point. Regarding the massacre we only have Kurapika's word but what we are being told/shown about the Troupe is different. The characters talk about the Kurta massacre, how horrible and brutal it was but the narrative is keen and favors the Troupe, it paints them in a favorable light and why should the narrative do that, they don't become better people like the Ants after all.

From the moment they appear on screen, the narrative wants us to see them as underprivileged, both in York New and in the ship, even when they're fighting in Meteor City, they're fighting for injustice or when somebody hurts them. Then why justify their actions everytime they appear on screen if they massacred the Kurta Clan? If they are responsible for this why make them the underprivileged representation? Both Kurta and Troupe says the op are ostracized by the outside and seen less from people.

Say they did it. 3 ideas were proposed as to why.

1. for the eyes (Chrollo likes the eyes, like Hisoka said but Hisoka is a liar and also Chrollo has never shown interest in the show for them. For someone who steals things he likes, why make an exception and murder here?)

2. for money (that's not correct, we are told multiple times they don't care about it, neither money nor fame, they want to be recognized by the world but how would that work by killing a clan that's been hidden for 100 years, they dont get anything out of it.)

3. for revenge: Revenge for what? Kurta are a peaceful clan that hide for years. We know the Troupe left a note that is the motto of Meteor City (I'm adding here what op referred to: "we reject no one so take nothing from us"). Op says note means they serve justice to their city, when someone takes things away from them so what did Kurta take? From the thematic and narrative point they are not set up to have done it, op thinks thats 100% intentional.

Like said above, BOTH have the thematic of oppression from the outside world, they are a commodity for the rich and powerful (gods) but why is Phantom Troupe put in the light of both, the oppressor and the oppressed? Why would an oppressed group oppress another one for NO good reason? The Troupe doesn't kill innocent people if not necessary, they do NOT care about money or fame and the revenge aspect doesnt work because the Kurta were isolated from the outside.

If we look back at the York New Arc they never state the massacre, they simply suggest it and of course from a Kurapika POV they are guilty but if you look again you have to ask..are they really?

☆

this took ages for me to coherently formulate and ik it goes back and forth but bless op's heart because it changed my perspective completely (more than any yt analysis found online) !

#hunter x hunter #chrollo lucilfer #phantom troupe #kurapika kurta #kurta clan theory #hxh chrollo #hxh 2011 #hxh kurapika #hxh hisoka #hxh manga #hxh spoilers #corolla/rants

[david-talks-sw]

Where do you sorta stand in terms of "Adhering to Lucas's" vision but also like "Well Lucas isn't making it so Star Wars is open to interpretation" Like don't get me wrong I don't like Karen Travesis's take on Star Wars for a whole host of reason and I think if anyone ever did a story and said "Well the Empire is right" then you are completely doing Star Wars wrong. But if someone legit wanted to do a story having a critical eye on the Jedi Order or IDK the Republic or even coming at Star Wars in a way that George Lucas wouldn't cover it cuz they are ideologically different, IDK, how far should that go?

I think the main thing to keep in mind is that it stays consistent with the spirit of what George Lucas was trying to say, if not the letter.

You can try alternative narratives, focus on certain characters, do it in different genres, but at the end of the day the message needs to stay the same.

And if you can't do that, at least try to be fair about your criticism of that message.

Different narrative, same conclusion

You can explore and certainly argue that the Empire brought about order and peace, and that it is better than the chaos and war present during the Republic.

You can argue that maybe, if instead of a Sith Lord who rules by fear, the Emperor was a benevolent dictator who lead by example, then the Empire wouldn't be as bad.

Legends stories have done this before.

You can even argue that the Rebels are terrorists and that the attack on the Death Star was the equivalent of 9-11 for the Imperial citizens, like this guy does.

But at the end of the day, that's a fallacy.

The previously-shown Empire storyline makes it clear that Moff Trachta is ambitious and greedy, as are his fellow conspirators. They're hypocrites who tell themselves "it's for the greater good" but really it's just so they can backstab each other to have the top job.

And the war the Empire's peace replaces was one orchestrated by the Emperor himself, so the entire regime is based on a lie, because really the only thing the Empire's system runs on is greed and fear, as shown in Andor.

Finally, while some of the Rebels' methods are hard and dark in nature... it's a war. And the narrative makes it clear that at the end of the day, the enemy they're fighting are space nazis. And 90% of the stormtroopers we're shown range from bullies to extremists. That one Imp pilot saying "millions died on the Death Star" also mocked Cara Dune for the genocide of her people, seconds prior.

The smaller narrative may take some deviations, it may question some aspects, but the larger one is consistent.

The moral of the story remains the same: the Empire is evil.

Different tone & characters, same message

When George Lucas made the six films, he had a very clear idea in mind, in terms of genre and style: imitating the Saturday matinee specials (think Flash Gordon), blend them with long standing psychological motifs derived from mythology, add dash of Buddhist philosophy: you get Star Wars, a movie for kids.

But I would fully expect a horror movie about a stormtrooper being hunted by an ice spider to go "fuck this 'we're all connected, we're all symbioms' bullshit. Die you creepy bastard!"

Same goes for Andor.

It's not rated PG-18, but it's still very dark. This isn't a movie for kids, it's a movie for teens and older. It opens with the eponymous character shooting someone in the face.

In Andor (and Rogue One) we see a side of the Rebellion we hadn't seen before. A darker one. But the genre of those productions demands a darker outlook on these concepts.

Cassian lives in a world where everything is nuances of gray.

He's the perfect kind of character to tell this story.

As is Dedra Meero. She is written as an underdog in the first half of the show. You're rooting for her. But then the series reminds you that: "hey, she's as much a nazi as the rest of them". She's willing to torture people to keep her job or get a promotion. The narrative frames her as ultimately evil.

Because at the end of the day the message is the same. The Empire is evil and it takes regular people to beat the elite 1%. Greed vs compassion, fear vs hope.

Now suppose there was a series opening on a "Gray Jedi" character, juggling between the Dark and Light Side with little to no effort or repercussion, sabering someone in the face.

That fucks with the message. Because it's okay for Cassian to do it, because Cassian doesn't need to deal with space magic, he lives in an un-mystical, cold and harsh part of the galaxy where you're either evil or less bad, rarely good.

But the 6 films make it clear that for Force sensitives, things are binary. They have to be or bad shit happens.

Gray morality works in Star Wars if we're talking about non-Force sensitives. In the case of a Force user, that's a darksider waiting to happen.

Criticizing the narrative via unreliable narrators

You mentioned Karen Traviss. For all my criticism re: her stance on the Jedi philosophy and their relation with the clones, I think her definition of Boba Fett is the best one yet (probably because she actually likes that character).

As a result of this personality, an eventual Boba Fett film would have to be Jedi-critical, because if you ask him, the Jedi took his father away from him. And you can argue using logical points all you want, his pain is emotional, not rational. Him being right or wrong is irrelevant, his pain is real.

Same goes with the recent Tales of the Jedi.

Dooku's an unreliable narrator, he is a character notorious for lying to himself and to others, he's poisonous and deceitful.

Of course three short films shown through his point of view would cast him in a noble "free thinking" light and the Jedi as infuriatingly obtuse.

The problem comes in when the author steps in and sides with the unreliable character with a subjective opinion and says that character is objectively right.

Okay, so now we have a situation where you've deviated from the established narrative.

You're having someone say the Jedi are asleep at the wheel and Dooku is the only one ahead of the curb when the movies and TCW show us the Jedi being just as aware and frustrated as Dooku is.

You're having someone say the Jedi can do more than what they're already doing, when Lucas' story shows us that there's really not much more that can be done, and Lucas himself confirms as much.

Which brings me to my final point.

Being fair with the criticism.

That's what it comes down to for me.

You can criticize the Jedi Order (I do so right here). But just be fair about it. And be informed.

For example, you can question whether the Jedi's rule of non-attachment is good or not.

But first you gotta know what attachment means, in the context of Star Wars. It does not mean "emotional attachments", aka "relationships". And it's not about repression.

So if you go into it thinking either of those things then your criticism isn't really 1) informed 2) done in good faith.

Because in Star Wars, the term "attachment" is used in the Buddhist sense. It's not about depriving yourself of bonds, it's about being able to let go and move on from who/what you love, when it's time.

Other example: you can argue the Jedi "accepted" the use of a clone army bred for combat because "we don't see it in the movies"... but you'd be disingenuous.

Because Attack of the Clones takes place over a bunch of days. You're not gonna be shown every second of those days. That'd be like arguing that "we never see Mace Windu eat in athemovie, so Mace is unable to eat".

AOTC is a movie about how Anakin fell in love with Padmé and lost his mother, and how Palpatine rose to power by engineering a war, a storyline shown through his and Obi-Wan's POV. The film isn't gonna stop and touch on a point that isn't directly relevant to those two storylines.

In TCW, you see the Jedi, some Senators and some civilians are the only people to treat the clones like, y'know, people. To argue the above, you'd have to deliberately ignore the 12 Jedi we're shown caring for their troops and just focus on Pong Krell.

Also, I think we've criticized the Jedi Order enough. Don't you think?

Different artists, mediums and tales have done it so much that the very clear, very obvious message of the Prequels has been twisted into something else.

If you look up any George Lucas interview between 1999 and 2021, he'll say it's about Anakin and the Senate's greed, it's about how a good kid becomes a bad man and how a democracy becomes a dictatorship. The Prequels weren't about the Jedi.

Instead of challenging the notion that the Jedi are good, which has been done baselessly for over a decade, I think it would now be fair to explore whether the Prequel Jedi were all that bad.

Oh. We're not trying to be fair? My bad then. Let's keep misinterpreting the source material because we like it more that way then say it was how it was originally intended to be.

#QnA

[5h-epilogue]

“ . . . and as you’ve grown up, I continued with running my companies, starring in movies, making music, and I produced my play. Everyone else eventually found happiness in one way or another, thank goodness.”

Nia had wondered how her parents were so rich, how she was able to enjoy such comfortable seating out on the patio she glanced around at now that overlooked an enormous pool — the big, outdoor flower and vegetable garden to the right of it — and the patio also had two flat-screen televisions, a gourmet outdoor cooking area with a grill, and, appropriately, ceiling fans and a fire pit.

“Wow, mom. That’s . . . wow.” The young girl was in a bit of shock. She understood why a filmmaker wanted to make a movie about you. A countless amount of questions ran through her mind about you, her mother, who was considered to be a living legend.

Your beloved chef came outdoors and served you and your daughter a bowl of strawberry chicken salad, your favorite summer meal, which she now knew reminded you of your old, deceased lover, Armin Arlert.

“Thank you,” you said to the chef. “Would you mind bringing me my photo album?”

The photo album.

You mentioned it in your story.

Several minutes later, your chef returned with a brown, hardcover book that Nia had seen a countless amount of times in a reserved spot in the library, but never had she touched it. She couldn’t anyway, as it was on a pedestal display underneath protective glass.

Opening the pages, you showed her several photographs of your younger self.

“These were taken by Levi Ackerman,” you said softly.

“You look really pretty,” Nia mumbled, taking the photo album from you, as you were flipping through it too fast for her liking.

She glanced down at a selfie of you and a dark-haired man at the beach, the decades-old date catching her attention.

“Is that Levi?” She asked.

“Yes,” you replied.

Then, she saw the letter Levi had written to you. She only skimmed across it, having already known its contents from your story, and then, she explored the other pages: where Levi told you to continue filling the photo album with pictures from your past, present, and future.

There was a picture of you with a kind-looking, blonde-haired man, standing side by side in a bakery, hands covered in flour.

There was another picture of that same man in a selfie with her father, who seemed so young.

It was clearly Armin. Not only could she gather that from the details your story provided, but he was one of three people in every photo she stared at who she hadn’t seen in her entire life.

There was a photo of you and Jean in a studio together, you writing something down on a notepad as he studiously adjusted something on the soundboard mixer.

“Wait, was this CS Records or Arlert Records?”

You leaned over, looking at the photo.

“CS Records. See the date? Jean and I were more than likely working on my first few songs during the Eldian Devils tour. I can’t remember who took the picture, though.”

Nia hummed in response.

Next, there was a picture of you and Eren getting married for the first time as young artists in Las Vegas. Underneath it, there was a picture of you and Eren getting remarried in Europe.

The other photos consisted of you, Reiner, and his family the night he proposed, you and Mikasa having lunch near a bridge, a group of friends playing cards around a table, a few pictures of you on stage, on film sets, and at awards shows, Eren’s family, and other pictures of you and your friends who she lovingly recognized.

It was odd to know that, as she looked at all of the photographs of people who she had just seen last week, there were two people in some pictures who would never, ever age. The photos of Levi and Armin existed as a permanent reminder of how they will always be known.

Towards the back of the photo album, there was a picture of you with another man she didn’t recognize, but it wasn’t Levi. It wasn’t Armin.

“Is that Connie Springer?” Your daughter leaned over to show you a photograph of you and Connie dressed in suits and gowns for some sort of event.

“Yes,” you said. “That was my album release party. It was the first night Connie let me out of my bedroom after locking me away.”

“Uh,” Nia frowned. “That’s really-”

Nia interrupted her own sentence, distracted by the very last photo in the photo album.

It was a picture that was much older than the other ones. Not only did the date give it away, but the horrible camera quality as well.

It was a photo that couldn’t be found online. A photograph that was worth more than diamonds and gold.

Four young teenagers, standing in front of beautiful trees and bushes, smiling brightly, were photographed by her grandmother, Carla Yeager.

Nia read the little description below the childhood photo of Eren, Jean, Connie, and Marco: The original Eldian Devils. So long & farewell.

Below that, there was a photo of two young children trying to catch fireflies in a patch of high grass underneath a streetlight, photographed by her other grandmother, whom she had never known.

The little description below that childhood photo read: First loves. So long & farewell.

Nia closed the photo album.

“I think I’m gonna cry, Mom,” Nia started to bury her head in her hands. But then, she suddenly perked up and pushed herself out of her seat. “I gotta go see Dad!”

The young girl speed-walked through the enormous home. At this hour, she was certain where to find him.

Opening the door to the family room, there he was, strumming his guitar.

“Hi angel,” Eren smiled, soft wrinkles by his emerald eyes appeared as he greeted his beloved daughter with her favorite nickname, but upon seeing her eyes glistening with sadness, he immediately put down his guitar. “What’s wrong?”

He motioned the girl over, who quickly ran to him and sat down, wrapping her arms around him.

While he didn’t know why she was so upset, he had years of experience soothing her cries.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m here,” he repeated.

Nia was a touch more sensitive and incredibly empathetic compared to the average person, that much was true, and right now, she could only think about all the pain her father experienced. The abuse. Almost dying. Losing friends.

And it hurt terribly, especially because she had only known him as the kind-hearted man who was a phenomenal father.

“I’m glad mom picked you,” Nia mumbled. “Thank you for always watching The Parent Trap with me . . . showing up to all of my shows and stuff . . . reading my papers . . . and just . . . you’re a great dad. I love you.”

“Aw, I love you too.” Eren hugged his girl even tighter. “Of course, sweetheart. Always.”

When you stepped into the room, smiling softly, Eren gave you a confused look that silently asked: What’s going on?

You held up the photo album, and he immediately understood.

Eren then motioned you over. Once you sat beside him, he kissed your forehead and wrapped his arm around you as well, holding on to the two people he cherished more than anyone or anything else in the world.

“I love you, mom. You’re so strong, and pretty amazing, too.” Nia reached out, touching your arm. “I hope I can be like you when I’m your age. Older you. Not younger you. You used to be a mess.”

For a while, the three of you sat there, hugging one another, experiencing nothing but pure love and joy.

—

A few months later, it was Thanksgiving.

The heartwarming event was hosted at your house, as it was every year, and familiar faces were gathered around the enormous dining room table covered with warm plates of food.

This year, Nia approached everyone and asked them more specific questions about their lives, wanting more details about the story she heard.

Aunt Hange was more than happy to answer just about everything after having too much wine.

Everyone was lovingly questioned by the teenager, and she shared what you had told her with their children as well.

After having dinner, Jean and his wife were sitting in the living room, playing cards with Erwin and Hange.

Reiner and his wife, who had flown in from Tennessee, were socializing with Annie, her girlfriend, and Sasha — who brought her husband, Niccolo, and their son.

Nia hung out in the recreation room with Reiner’s three children, who both had hair as blonde as his and were slightly younger than she was.

Mikasa, who had settled down in Washington after seeing the world, wanting to be closer to her friends and family, was telling you and Eren about one Thanksgiving year that she had spent lost in the middle of a forest.

A little while afterward, once dinner, laughter, and board games came to an end, Eren found you outside on the patio, staring at the glowing fireplace.

“Hi, baby. Everyone’s gone,” Eren sat down beside you. “Nia’s asleep, or she’s pretending to be, I’m not sure.”

“She’s probably tired, so I’m guessing she's actually asleep,” you said with a grin. “Today was fun. I miss everyone already.”

“Me too,” Eren smiled softly. “I’m glad everyone’s doing well. I hope it stays that way.”

“It will,” you suddenly yawned.

“Come on,” Eren stood up and reached his hand out, and you took it. “Let’s get ready for bed.”

“Someone’s excited to cuddle, huh?” You teased, expecting him to deny it, but proudly, he grinned wider and said, “Of course I am, so hurry up.”

After having a shower together, you and Eren both cuddled up in bed, falling asleep in each other’s arms.

That night, you dreamt of your past — making cinnamon rolls in a bakery and staring at stars from a rooftop.

It was a dream that you often had, but not out of regret. Not out of pain. But out of reflection of just how much you healed. How much your life had changed.

There were some people you wished you could bring back — Armin and Levi.

Some questions went unanswered — who your stalker was all those years ago, and whether it was a stranger or a lover.

But, even so, after having five husbands, and after every beautiful experience and painful memory, you could finally say that you had found contentment, and your one true love was the happiness you experienced as you grew old with your friends and family by your side.

— ONE MONTH LATER —

Five years.

That’s how long Eren had been trying his hardest to visit Connie in prison.

And a month after having Thanksgiving dinner with his family and friends, Connie allowed him to come.

What a stubborn man Connie was, but Eren’s persistence had won.

Eren couldn’t lie. He was nervous. The last time he laid eyes on the CS Records owner, he was testifying against him in court, both of them as young men. Both of them wishing that the other person would simply fall over and die.

But now, as the man in his forties sat in an uncomfortable chair in a private room, waiting for Connie to arrive on the other side of the thick glass, he couldn’t help but wonder what made Connie finally allow him to visit.

But he wouldn’t have to wonder much longer.

His leg, which shook with anticipation, halted its movement when a door opened and a prisoner was escorted out in chains, two correctional officers standing at his side.

It was him. Connie Springer.

Eren’s brows unintentionally furrowed, his face twitching as he fought the urge to both smile and frown.

It was Connie — the same man that tried to take his life. A murderer. Torturer. And yet, it was Connie, his old childhood friend who had aged just as he did, and despite being behind bars, he looked rather well.

If Connie was as shocked to see Eren after years upon years, Eren couldn’t tell, as the prisoner simply blinked at him as he was escorted to his seat on the other side of the glass, his face expressionless. Intimidating.

And he just stared at Eren.

The former musician was the first one to pick up the phone hanging on the wall to communicate. Connie did so as well a few moments later.

Pressing the phone to his ear, Eren’s emotional, shiny eyes darted away from Connie’s, down at the new tattoo on Connie’s left arm, and back up at him.

“Hey,” Eren spoke first.

Connie didn’t respond.

He just stared at Eren.

“I’m here because I wanted to see how you were doing,” Eren spoke yet again.

Connie’s chains rattled as he shifted in his seat.

He just stared at Eren.

With a frown, Eren questioned, “Why did you let me come visit you if you weren’t going to talk to me?”

“You didn’t give me a choice. I thought you’d give up . . . after five fucking years.”

Finally.

Eren couldn’t help but smile a bit. Hearing his voice again after forgetting what it sounded like was rather startling.

“You only said yes so I’d leave you alone?” Eren asked.

“Yeah.”

“Alright. I’ll take what I can get,” Eren softly sighed. “I never thought that I’d ever want to see you again, but here I am.”

“You really did all this to check on me?” Connie’s question was fired rather abruptly, nearly cutting off Eren’s sentence. “I put a bullet through your chest. I’m the reason you only have eight fingers left. I killed your friends, and I could keep naming shit I’ve done. Why are you here?”

Eren glanced away, adjusting the dark green phone in his hand.

“Time heals all wounds.”

“That something your therapist came up with?”

“Yeah.”

The corner of Connie’s mouth twitched as, this time, he was the one fighting the urge to smile.

“What I’m trying to say is that I can’t forgive you for what you did to Armin and Levi, and it’s not my place to or not to. But I forgive you for what you did to me.” Eren’s eyes glistened with subtle sadness. “I guess I’m just hoping that after all this time . . . after all we’ve been through . . . I can talk to my friend again. Not CS Records owner, Connie Springer, but my friend. I haven’t spoken to him since I was fifteen, and I woke up with two new gray hairs today.”

It was a soft noise, one that was very brief and vanished as soon as it had arrived, but Connie chuckled.

“You’re saying some corny stuff, man.”

Eren’s smile brightened. “That’s what happens when you have a kid. All I do now is think of dad jokes, and try to-”

“You have a kid?”

Eren’s face faltered in utter confusion, but as he stared at Connie’s slightly shocked face, he could tell that the man wasn’t messing around.

Nia’s birth was worldwide news. It was a steady hot topic for an entire year — one would have thought that a new member of the royal family had been born.

But then, Eren realized that for the most part, behind bars, the outside world ceased to exist. Especially in maximum security facilities.

“Yeah,” Eren said. “I have a daughter. She turned fourteen a month ago.”

“Is her mom around? Who’s she?”

“Her mom is Y/N. And, yeah, she’s around. We’ve been married for years.”

“Seriously?” Connie couldn’t hide the shock and surprise. A look of amusement appeared upon his face as he raised his eyebrows. “Well, uh . . . congratulations. How’s Y/N?”

Eren couldn’t help but smile as he thought about you, his beautiful wife. “She’s good. She’s great. Her companies are still going strong, and she’s finally happy.”

“Didn’t wanna come see me?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Connie nodded.

Then, his face fell into a small frown, hazel eyes darting down to the corner of the glass, staring at nothing in particular.

“How’s Jean doing?”

“Jean’s fine. He’s retired from music. He married a pianist.” Eren paused. “Everyone else is doing fine too. Reiner has kids and a wife, and they all have Southern accents — it’s funny to hear. Mikasa finally . . .”

For a while, Connie listened to Eren ramble on about the progressive lives of the people he once knew.

As his old friend spoke, he couldn’t help but wonder how his life would have turned out if he had made different choices.

Sadness pricked at his heart, sending a small ache throughout his body.

If only he wasn’t such an idiot back then.

No. He was worse than an idiot.

He was a monster.

“What about you, Connie? I know you’re locked up, but how are they treating you here? Knowing you, you probably run this place, huh?”

Truth be told, Connie was rather surprised to know Eren cared. It was just as touching as it was shocking.

“Damn right,” Connie said.

And it was true, but not in the way one would imagine.

He intimated who he needed to. Ruined lives when he needed to. But, over the nearly two decades he had been behind bars, he had done it solely to stick up for the defenseless prisoners, both young and old, who didn’t deserve to be treated as he once was when he was locked up the first time.

It wasn’t some change of heart that had occurred over the last several years, either.

From the very first day he entered as a younger man, he was both starting fights and finishing them to protect others.

He couldn’t explain why he did such things. It was no secret that he didn’t mind letting other people get hurt, considering he excelled at harming others, but this was different.

Somehow, it just was.

“Can I ask you something? And be honest with me,” Eren paused, carefully thinking over his words before he dared to utter them. “Do you regret it? Any of it?”

Connie ran his hand down his lower face.

It was a difficult question, and not because he didn’t know the answer, because he did, but rather, he wasn’t sure if the truth was an acceptable response.

Telling the truth meant showing weakness. Losing power.

Letting go of that mentality was rather difficult, especially behind bars where weakness was preyed on.

But he didn’t care about those former beliefs anymore. He was getting too old for such stupidity.

“Telling you I regret it will give you closure, right?”

“Surely you want closure too.”

“I regret everything.” The prisoner looked into his old friend’s eyes as he spoke. “I wish I . . .” He clenched his jaw. He couldn’t speak anymore — but there were, perhaps, no words in the English language that could properly express what he felt in his heart.

“Well, uh, how about this,” The other man sniffled softly as spoke. “You’ll have to be under constant supervision, but, in a few years, how about we work on getting you out of here . . . letting you see the sun again? What do you say?”

Fighting the urge to cry was an incredibly difficult battle. The prisoner nodded, his teary eyes shining with guilt and hope, and the other man nodded along with him.

“Okay, well,” the former musician smiled sadly, “I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Okay.”

The visit ended with goodbyes and promises that they both intended to keep. Your dear husband couldn’t be certain what the future held, but as he did the day he first met you all those years ago, approaching you backstage with great curiosity, he’d trust his gut.

For it had led him to his one true love, and he’d listen to it — always.

Thanks for reading! What did you think? Please let me know by like, reblogging, and/or commenting on the last chapter, or in my inbox!

[yall-hate-kids-tourney]

Round 3: Chara Dreemurr (Undertale) vs. Jason Todd (DC)

Propaganda below the cut

Chara Dreemurr (?):

They were constantly blamed for killing all of monster kind in the no mercy route, despite players choosing to go that route. People ignored that they sacrificed themselves to attempt to free the monsters from the underground.

----

everyone wants to blame their own actions (genocide route) on chara, who is a literal child. i don’t know how to tell you this but you are the one playing the game. it’s about YOUR CHOICES. chara is there is punish you for that, you killed the only family that ever loved them! how could they not be upset at that! also if you don’t mind, here’s a good video essay on the subject 

Jason Todd (~12):

Most of the Tumblr fandom likes this guy but if you step outside this website then wham so many people say he got what he deserved as a kid and Batman can't be cool if he's a dad so it's important for Batman to trash-talk his dead child constantly so we can all agree what a bad idea it was. Also wanna highlight that a lot of the records we have from fans at the time were clear they disliked Robin for BEING a child. Like a lot of the little dude characters in this tournament are treated too harshly for making an ugly choice and the fans aren't being understanding or sympathetic that the choice is made by a child character who is immature and not developed and strong enough to make a good choice and stuff. But THIS little dude was specifically hated FOR being a child. People wanted tough loner guy Batman not Batdad and his little buddy. The first Robin would drive back from college and guest star sometimes and be advertised as the Teen Wonder and people were like yeah okay but then Batman actually starts being a single parent for a child with needs and people were like UGH not the BOY Wonder. Today pretty much everywhere you see Batman fans saying Batman is better solo, no kid, it's not realistic to have a kid, a kid shouldn't be in the movies blah. Even if the comics they always find a way to send away the new kid so that Batman never has to parent. So all the Robins are being excluded from the narrative but I think this one is THE symbol of Batman fans hating a child character just for being a child.

-

Robin, Jason Todd, THE hated child character. In the 1980s, Batman comics had become increasingly dark and gritty. According to editor O'Neil himself, the courted audience wasn't kids but 19-40 year old men with disposable income. Batman's child sidekick, Robin, was offensively campy and childish. Fans called him wimpy, annoying, dumb, bratty, etc. Also people complained that Batman acting like an affectionate dad was unmanly and gay. Robin acts violent and emotional and people are like "ew he's so childish and emotional"—and then Batman literally acts just as murderously and emotionally within literally the same exact story and people are like "wow he's so dark and tortured". So in 1988 (after brutalizing Batgirl to get rid of her for being too bright and nice and kid-friendly), DC held a paid poll for fans to vote for Robin to live or die. O'Neil claims he heard a fan (a grown man with a dayjob as a lawyer) programmed a phone to spam kill votes. One fanguy claimed that he sold his Mercedes to buy kill votes (probably an exaggeration but still). By less than 1% margin, the vote decided to kill Robin in a spectacularly violent way. Anyway the 1989 Batman movie brought in a huge wave of new child comicbook fans who liked the new Robin (a very cool teenage high school Robin with a driver's license and a girlfriend), and DC started a separate Robin-less Batman series called Legends of the Dark Knight to make the anti-Robin writers and fans happy. But to this day, many fans agree it was a good idea to kill off the other Robin so that his foolish death reminds other characters to never be childish and stupid again. Bonus: the current Robin (usually a traumatized 10-year-old) has also been facing some pretty loud hatred for over 15 years.

#yall hate kids tourney #round 3 #undertale #undertale spoilers #chara undertale #chara dreemurr #chara #dc #dc comics #batman #batfamily #dc robin #batman comics #batman and robin #jason todd #cw suicide #cw self sacrifice #cw child death #Youtube

[jbaileyfansite]

Interview with 'Bustle' talking about Fellow Travelers, Bridgerton and Wicked

Showtime’s Fellow Travelers explores a star-crossed romance between Tim Laughlin (Jonathan Bailey) and Hawkins “Hawk” Fuller (Matt Bomer) set against the backdrop of America’s Lavender Scare: the persecution of LGBTQ+ government workers in the mid-20th century.

Tim and Hawk, who both work in politics, meet at a party in 1950s Washington, D.C., and quickly strike up an on-and-off relationship, which carries on for over four decades. Their meetings are urgent, secret, and steamy — enough for Out to dub the historical drama “one of the sexiest shows in recent memory,” thanks in no small part to an erotic toe-sucking scene. But the most vulnerable moments between Tim and Hawk have little to do with sex.

“The most intimate scenes are not the physical ones, but the ones where they’re really looking at each other and being kind to each other,” Bailey tells Bustle over Zoom. “Those felt really, really joyful. In those dark periods, that’s what these characters live for.”

In the relationship, Bailey’s character is pious and submissive — a far cry from his brooding, Mr. Darcy-coded character on Bridgerton. The actor is “grateful” that many of those fans will follow him to the new show, which is based on Thomas Mallon’s same-named 2007 novel.

“Doing something like Bridgerton, which is such a populist celebration of a show, what I loved, and probably a reason I was led toward Fellow Travelers,is the opportunity to guide people [to] stories that are slightly more niche,” he says.

As for Bridgerton, Bailey will return as the newly married Anthony when the show returns in 2024, and he’s excited for Luke Newton and Nicola Coughlan (aka Colin and Penelope) to “completely thrive” in Season 3.

Could Season 3 include more LGBTQ+ storylines? “I’m always hopeful for inclusion in that way,” Bailey says. “There’s so much that Bridgerton has achieved in storytelling, and there’s absolutely no doubt in my mind that with the brilliance of Shondaland, everyone’s gonna see themselves in the story at some point, I’m sure.”

Below, the actor opens up about filming Fellow Travelers, his role in the upcoming Wicked adaptation, and the rom-com legend he’d love to work with.

Fellow Travelers depicts more of Tim and Hawk’s relationship than we get to see in the book. What was it like to act across all the decades?

That’s exactly what drew me to it. So much of [what drew me to it] was about talking to [series creator Ron Nyswaner], and understanding how much of his own experience he pulled into it. That really set the bar, I think, for the level of commitment that I was excited to give.

I love Tim as a character. I’ve learned so much from him — about the way he deconstructs the hands that are given to him, and the way he’s constantly searching for truth. He operates in kindness, even though he’s flawed.

What was the most interesting thing you learned?

I’m obsessed with the inclusion of the Frankie and Marcus storyline [and] understanding how the civil rights movement and queer liberation movement really intersected. The queer Black spaces were more robust, and they created a safe haven [for] the white, queer people coming into them — whereas it didn’t work the other way around.

Tim drinks a lot of milk in the show. How much did you go through while filming... and what kind?

My milk appreciation has evolved! I think it was oat milk — but yeah, bless Tim and his milk habit. He’s obviously not calcium-deficient in any way, which is good.

You’ve been open about the busy filming schedule between Fellow Travelers and Bridgerton. I’m sure making each season has to be a little different — so what was most special about Season 3?

The thing that’s special is the overwhelming love that you feel. Every year, it’s a different lead character. So, tonally, it shifts. Even in the way that they market each series, you see the tonal colors, the passion, the different ways in which people can fall in love.

The personal experience of suddenly being exposed on Netflix, it’s life-changing. [Being on the show] makes you feel the need to be stabilized in this industry, but it’s also the thing that gives you [stability].So it’s a really lovely thing to be able to go away and to come back. We’re a tribe.

Speaking of life-changing roles, how did you and the Wicked cast keep up during the SAG-AFTRA strike?

I felt particularly sorry for Cynthia [Erivo]. As we were getting near the end, there were so many big moments that were about to be filmed. So [holding onto those] simmering [moments], it must have been really hard for her. But we’re always in touch and bonded by such an extraordinary experience thus far, and I’m sure that experience will only get wilder and more brilliant.

You’re killing it in these different romantic roles. Is there a rom-com you personally gravitate toward — maybe a festive one at this time of year?

Well, I watch Love Actually every time I do my tax return. That is the ultimate antidote to stress. Richard Curtis’ anthology of incredible rom-coms is basically a grounding for wanting to be an actor as well. I’d be really excited about the idea of a collaboration [with him].

Source

#jonathan bailey #jonny bailey #bustle interview #bustle #fellow travelers #bridgerton #wicked #interviews #interviews:2023 #lgbtq+ #lgbtqia #NEW!

[kirbybecomesastarwarrior]

 Kirby becomes a Star Warrior / Sir Uther (OC)

Now I’ve seen Uther used from the Arthurian mythos in other Kirby AU merely defining him as Sir Arthur’s father who he inherited the GSA from. Not many are written as straight up bad guys, that is until today Sir Uther is a villain in the KBASW universe and he’s not Arthur’s dad in this one just mentor in the story (but frankly he shouldn’t be anyone’s dad.) 

I just had to post this before publishing the story cause everyone’s gonna wonder “who’s he when reading?” So yeah this is the face of Uther, when he’s mentioned in the story.

I definitely wrote him as the guy everyone hates and though he maybe gone, his selfishness and pride were what ultimately what brought down the GSA. After his death Arthur vowed to reverse and rewrite the mistakes of Uther’s cruelty; becoming the new leader of the GSA. Arthur was and still afraid of his old mentor, his influenced is what made Arthur hide MK’s wings all the time. Meta thought Arthur was afraid of his demon side when in reality he was afraid of Uther. Uther does and kicks off many of the downfalls and tragedies of the GSA & MK’s crew. Due to his own prejudices towards Meta which come back to haunt him.

This Uther is highly inspired by Merlin (2008) Uther the show’s but if your want to hear more explanation on the character but basically yeah the Uther in that show hates magic and kills many innocent people because of that so just switch that around with Nightmare and his demons and yeah same principals.

Also his character color scheme is actually based off the Queen of Hearts from Alice & Wonderland. A bit of foreshadowing of his temperament as well as his madness. 

And his relationship with Galacta Knight; well let’s just say his ego was knocked down a peg once Galacta was recognized as the strongest warrior in the galaxy by the Ancients. Before Galacta it was Uther and he was the leader of the GSA because of that... with Galacta there he felt his authority was challenged..

He guys I’ve been actually working on this OC for months since I named dropped him in Dec. it’s also my first OC and let me tell you creating an OC is tough, I hope my efforts were worth it and you guys like it.

keep reading the content character explanation below...

Now I’ve seen a lot of people characterize Sir Arthur as a well-meaning person who’s just stuck in their old ways. Sometimes straight-up “good guy” or “leader” who live long enough to see themselves become the villain; similar to the many interpretations depending on which version you see/

Now I don’t mind Uther being interpreted as a good guy or someone in the grey area but I’m just surprised with the lack of villainous Uthers. A constant in Arthurian legend is that Uther has always been a rotten human being. In the original story of Arthur’s conception, Uther wanted to get with the Duke of Cornwall's wife and started a war because of it. (I'm not going to explain any more of the story but yeah you should read the original for the rest of it.) But yeah he straight-kicks up war cause he gets what he wants which ends up being betrayed by his own people.

I wanted to take that type of self-destructive villainy from the original Uther making him as despicable as the original from the story. With a little mix of my own spin on the character with some modern-day villains too. 

When designing his character I knew I wanted to have some foreshadowing and symbolism in his design. I really wanted to make him very intimidating along with the level of regality. I ended up thinking about old-school villains from Disney and I came up with Queen of Hearts which fit his character perfectly. And after I just knew I had to give him a scythe as his weapon no questions asked! He’d definitely say “OFF WITH YOUR HEAD”, before slicing up one of his victims. 

And I got a bit of inspiration from Avatar’s Ozai too similar temperament as well. that’s how I got the idea to have Uther control fire as well as light. Which emerged the idea for his wings. Couldn’t decide whether I wanted to give him dragon wings or bird wings... But when the concept of Phoenix wings came up I knew I could work more story into them than just the dragon wings. 

I also wanted to show the importance of status to him with his armor and cape & mantle; being adored with gold.  His mask has two colors red & black very reminiscent of a checkerboard; conveying his two-facedness. Seeing his soldiers as pawns wanting to be in control of everything. I hope I was able to convey that in his design... He cares so much about his position and hates when his authority is questioned in any way; he makes sure everyone knows who’s in charge. 

When I call Uther an elitist, I mean that he would give very little care to the soldiers who were not as puffballs and would immediately categorize them as lesser beings. During the war when the GSA & the ancients were defining other galaxies' worth: they would prioritize the more advanced civilization and the lesser solar system was the last to be protected. This eventually formed the Star Systems Alliance (or the S.S.A.) which was controlled by the Ancients, the GSA elites, and the upper crusts of the galaxy so yeah corrupt government everybody.

I got this idea in the Wolfwrath episode with Sword & Blade explaining their backstories as he described that the war had turned the galaxy into a wasteland and that they had to become bandits & thieves to survive.

So yeah that’s basically what Uther’s doing... he would use lesser planets as battlegrounds, and make many of the inhabitants helpless. This is how the volunteer army gets started.  The GSA would offer benefits and supplies to those who volunteer to join. However they’d have to live long enough to actually receive these benefits. So yeah he took advantage of lesser planets to get new soldiers and made sure they’d be his battle plan guinea pigs. 

This brings Jecra and Garlude into that mix as well... Jerca who had just lost his partner did not have the means to provide for his baby son (Knuckle Joe). He had his parents but they were too old to work. Heard about the GSA’s offer and signed up; his parents weren’t sure and knew their son would be on the front line. But Jecra brought up the point that it’s either that or they all die by starvation. Sadly they agreed and promised to take care of Joe.

As for Garlude she was noble and had people under her care, the war had been pulling resources away from her people. Her husband (a man she married out of obligation but was friends with) went himself to negotiate for resources with the Ancients & from the S.S Alliance but mysteriously disappeared afterward. So to find out the truth of her husband’s disappearance and to provide for her people (as well as her daughter) joins the volunteer army. 

Eventually, there were so many who volunteered that they needed someone to supervise and train them. Uther didn’t want to waste training these volunteers and use one of his elite soldiers (they were gonna die quickly anyway). Then there was the Meta newly knighted Star Warrior, who he rejected into joining the Holy Knights. The other higher-up knights and ancients didn’t know what to do with him because they didn’t want MK to represent them and they were all looking to Uther for an answer. It was more of a way to stall until he could think of what to properly what to do with him properly. Which was probably the best thing he could have done for MK.

After 4 months of training, Meta Knight wants to join their ranks and become the sole person in charge of the Volunteer Army. Which lowers his status never being able to join the higher-ups. Uther thinks this is a great way to save face and get rid of MK. To him, Meta was finally accepting his fate of dying on the battlefield, but to Meta Knight, he was freeing himself from all of them. 

And with that MK renamed the group Team Halberd... and became the most beloved group of Knights of the GSA. And Uther became pissed he’d give MK and his group the most difficult missions but that made them more famous. Things only started going south for the team after the fall of the Ancients & Yami’s betrayal. Also, Yamikage was not part of Team Halberd he was part of the ninja section of the army which Dragato was in charge of.  (And yes I made the MK ship into angst fuel Halberd the ship being named in honor of his original unit). And Uther starts to go mad and plays a big role in Kirby’s birth... hope you guys stay to find out.

#kirby #Sir Uther #Meta Knight #kirby oc #kirby right back at ya #sir uther #Sir Arthur #Hoshi no Kaabii #kbasw #kirby au #my first oc #fanlore #GSA

[just-late-roman-republic-things]

What sources do you think had cemented a view of Caesar where he is this guy ultimately tying to destroy the republic to make it into a one man show?

Good question! This is just my opinion - I'm not a historian - but I think there are several layers to this:

Ancient sources. Cicero, Caesar himself, Sallust, Pollio, Hirtius, Augustus, Velleius Paterculus, Suetonius, Plutarch, Appian, and Cassius Dio are the big hitters here.

Some are pro-Caesar, some are anti-Caesar, and some (like Cicero) show different views at different times. But one thing they all have in common is that Caesar tends to "take over the story" as either a hero or villain. They also tend to be "backward-looking," in that they look for evidence of this heroism or villainy long before the civil war broke out in 49 BCE. It's like when a scandal breaks about a modern celebrity and people start digging up old rumors about them, or looking for signs that there was always something "off."

This is why Suetonius gives us stories of Caesar plotting to overthrow the government at times that don't make logical sense, and Plutarch highlights Caesar's charisma by telling us how he charmed the pirates who captured him. Even when a writer isn't trying to be biased, they still tend to assume Caesar's actions in 49-44 BCE reflect the values and goals he always held.

Most people change considerably throughout their lives, and a lot of our actions are dictated by luck and external pressures. But acknowledging this would go against the "story" that Caesar was exceptional, either for good or evil. It is, quite frankly, uncomfortable to imagine that an ordinary person could do monstrous things under the wrong circumstances, or that "bad people" have a lot in common with us. Easier to say that Caesar was different, Caesar chose to break the republic, not like us who are just making the best decisions we can in difficult circumstances.

(This is not me making excuses for the bad shit Caesar did do; I've criticized him in other posts.)

2. Secondary sources.

Caesar doesn't change, but the way we see him changes with every generation. Ronald Syme's monumental work The Roman Revolution came out in 1939, under the shadow of rising fascism in Italy and Germany; that influenced his views of Caesar and Augustus considerably. Napoleon saw Caesar as a role model, an exemplar of a "middle path" between tyranny and mob rule. The American founding fathers saw him as a boogeyman, a symbol of everything they were trying to get away from, and drafted the Constitution with the fear of an "American Caesar" in mind.

I don't think there's ever been a consensus on "How should we feel about Julius Caesar?" We cannot help but project our own values, fears, and cultural baggage onto him. In fact, I'd argue that most people's views of Caesar are more about what he represents to us than about what he personally did.

This is why I recommend A Companion to Julius Caesar and Julius Caesar and the Roman People so highly. Both books attempt to distinguish Caesar, the ordinary and fallible person, from Caesar the legend.

3. Cultural values.

One of the reasons we have so many conflicting views of Caesar is that in many ways he exemplified the cultural values of Roman politicians, and our values have changed significantly since then. Like, I detest Caesar's conquest of Gaul, but most of his contemporaries would have attempted to do the same thing, and very few Romans would have seen it as immoral.

Even during Caesar's lifetime, people disagreed on how to interpret his actions. When he reinstated Marius' statues, was he piously honoring his family, or was he dissenting from the post-Sullan establishment? Was his conquest of Gaul a traditional, respectable way of serving the state, or was he building an independent base of power to challenge the state? Were his multiple dictatorships necessary responses to breakdowns in public order, or a sign that he wanted to amass power for himself? Depends who you ask!

Ultimately, I think it's impossible to have an objective view of Caesar. And we'll never know what was really going through his head; we can only make our best guesses. But we can try to distinguish the man from the myth, to examine what we know and don't know, and to become aware of our own biases.

And all of this [waves in nerdy frustration] is why I tag posts like this with #caesarhell!

#just roman asks #julius caesar #caesarhell #historiography #jlrrt essays

[distort-opia]

why hasn't batman tried to ask a medium to communicate with the spirits of his parents? he has enough magic connections for that??

He wouldn't even need a medium, actually. He could have tried to learn magic himself, reach out to his parents' spirits. He could've time-traveled or he could've tried to use the Lazarus Pit to revive them or he could've attempted any number of magical and/or techological ways to get them back. But he hasn't.

There's more than one story dealing with this; it isn't a plot hole or an unexplored avenue, but rather a conscious choice on Bruce's part. Most recently, Batman: The Knight (2022) has recounted Bruce's time prior to being Batman, traveling and training with people like Giovanni Zatara, a magician and master of escapism. It's there that he had the chance to use a book detailing rituals of communication with the dead, but instead of keeping it he returns it and says this:

Batman: The Knight #7

There's much more to it than magic having an inevitable cost, because Bruce turns down the opportunity to communicate through secondary means, like hearing from Deadman:

Detective Comics #1027 -- Ghost Story

So, it's clear that him not finding a way to reach the spirits of his parents is an active choice. It's the choice that lies at the foundations of Batman: the choice to never heal and move on. To stay angry.

If Bruce talked to his parents, if he confronted his trauma and his grief, resolved it somehow-- then he'd need to let go. It's difficult to truly define what he'd let go of. Bruce's whole life and personality grew around the trauma of losing his parents. He made it so. He says it himself: "But everything else I've worked at would just... disappear." In many ways, it's the same thing that drives him to self-sabotage his attempts at happiness; fear of losing himself, fear that he wouldn't know who he is anymore without the anger and the pain, fear that he's worthless without the anger and the pain, fear that he'd fail even when genuinely trying to move on. The creation of Batman, first and foremost, kept Bruce alive after his parents got killed. It's something absolutely essential to him. And the thing is, he knows what his parents would say, if they saw who he became. They'd want him to stop. There's multiple moments in which Bruce is made to admit that this life isn't what his parents would have wanted for him (and Alfred's responsible for a good chunk of them).

But then there's the fact that being Batman grew larger than vengeance, in time. There's two essential cathartic aspects in being Batman to Bruce: revenge on the criminal that took away his parents with every criminal he beats up and puts away, and saving his parents' lives with every life he manages to save. The anger was much more prevalent at first, but the more people he saved, the more like-minded children he adopted and felt less alone with... the more being Batman also became about Gotham, about Family, about everyone else. So it isn't just that Bruce would feel lost without his Vow, but he also feels tremendous guilt at the idea of how many people would die without Batman there to save them. And it's such a tragic thing, because he already sacrificed every bit of himself to become Batman. But then actually being Batman and seeing the good resulting from it convinced him that he's right to always put himself second. It's worth suffering, it's worth never being happy and never moving on and never being at peace, because people depend on him. He's saving lives.

I really like how Bruce's understanding of himself and his Mission changed in the decades he's done it. There's a story in Urban Legends that just ended called The Murder Club (#20-23), and it has Thomas and Martha Wayne briefly travel forwards in time and meeting adult Bruce as Batman. At first they heavily disapprove, especially Thomas (unsurprisingly, seeing as the Flashpoint version of Thomas later tries to traumatize Bruce into giving up Batman in City of Bane), and... if this plot happened in Bruce's first couple of years as Batman, without the Family and the identity he's worked to solidify, I think he would've reacted very differently. But this story is highly relevant to your question (Bruce actually met his parents again, we're not even talking ghosts), so I'm not going to spoil more. Perhaps you want to read it.

Anyway :)) Kind of went off on a tangent with this answer, but I hope it was helpful.

#my brain is the glass jar I'm shaking and Bruce is the bug trapped inside #why is he this way. stop giving me Emotions #asks #batman #batman meta #bruce wayne #bruce wayne meta #long post #my meta

[proxis-shattered-expectations]

You know in history during in a specific time period and even today where people will either heavily romanticize or demonize a prominent figure in history to fit into their narrative? usually in the way of demonizing they were given cruel nicknames like Mary i of England was named ‘Bloody Mary’ and Elizabeth Bathory was called the ‘Blood Countess’ or even in fiction when Jaime Lannister is dubbed the ‘Kingslayer’ despite saving millions of lives by killing the mad king. This is done often to the point that the person’s real name and role in history is forgotten or ignored and is only remembered by the insulting names forced on them.

I can totally see this with the Horsemen’s human, either after the false apocalypse when rebuilding Earth and even a good hundred years afterwards when they’re gone and their identity and role in history scrutinized or cherry picked by demonizing or romanizing them.

How would the Horsemen react to their friend’s (whether their still alive and just living their life or long gone) story being romanized or given a cruel and demeaning nickname?

Ooooooo, a great concept and possibility to consider, especially if those were the humans that were ressurected from Death. Having no direct experience of what it is like surviving the apocalypse, nor an understanding of heaven or hell, guaranteed hearing about a fellow human that has lived through and helped the horsemen is object to scrutiny. Directly after the end war if said human is still alive and helping pick up the pieces, at first some humans will be grateful and some a mixture of doubt. Some may feel that said human prioritizes otherworldly beings over humanity, to which these doubts could be dashed if the human went about it the right way and addressed everything that happened. Honesty plays an important role in building a trust, but more so action is what shows the intention, because like it or not, one of the only humans to live through the war and help the horsemen comes with attention and judgement.

What also can influence the reputation left behind is building a rapport with the humans that are more open to the horsemen and to hearing about the truth, those that have hope in a future, and understand things in the universe are not black/white. With that there will be those that have lost everything, and are not so welcoming to the beings that took part in the destruction of Earth. Those that will find fault in every part of the explanation, reasons to doubt and be defensive. The next step if that human wishes to move on is to accept that everyone won't want the truth, that to keep going forward despite that is part of being the human that aided. If the horsemen also follow the same tactic it could be favorable in the long run, and will 100% help in those efforts.

As for if the human were to pass, if the previous steps were followed they would more likely be romanticized then demonized. The horsemen would have a mixture of reactions, Strife finding it hilarious and Fury laughing at the incredulous stories humans made up about their friend. "The savior of Humanity" they would be called, and honestly while it is not entirely true, the horsemen would leave it be as they can live knowing how they were truly like. The result would be similar for the opposing result....but with conflicting ways it was dealt with.

In the beginning the story was more accurate, but with the human passing, over time those that did not like the horsemen twisted the story, and with every generation a new version would be rumored about, fading from truth, to myth to legend. The horsemen would be above the dealings of man at this point since their friend was the main reason they stuck around Earth....but they wouldn't exactly be pleased with the slander towards their memory. Strife would be a little bitter, and a little devastated at how his friend was remembered. He knows of course that humans are fickle and simple minded for some, so he doesn't exactly hate all of them for it...but he is bothered by it and more likely to voice it. If a human were to ask about it, he would wistfully mention how he knew them. Not as the stories now stated, but as the human he had come to call friend. Cue funny and happy stories of the time he spent with his friend.

Similar with Fury, but she is way more bitter. She is quick to demean just how ignorant some humans were, and if any human were stupid enough to say it in her vicinity they will receive a harsh tongue lashing laced with threats. No being in her eyes has any right to demonize the only human she had come to respect, one that she would never admit, but missed their weird human humor and spunk. She is upset that the humans she helped spawned these new ones that refused to tell truthfully, and she is frustrated.

War and Death are a different story. They are the more likely of the two to understand what that is like. War's whole journey being framed and demonized for the end war knew what it was like to be scrutinized, so he would understand the ignorance of the newer humans, but he is angry that they would do so upon the memory of his friend. To slander their story and lie so blantantly when they are not around to defend their name, he finds it dishonorable. Definitely do not recommend being that stupid human that insults them in his presence....he will take action.

Death has been through this, and knows it all too well. The stories told about him are worse, kinslayer, executioner, and traitor is associated with him many times, he is used to it. He accepts that as his burden to carry....but for the human that was nothing like the monster he felt himself to be, it was wrong. He is mournful hearing the human being referred to as the "Betrayer of Humanity.". Angry is an understatement, but it is masked with a sadness. For a moment he wonders if it was truly worth bringing humans back. Mind you he did it for War and balance, but for them to take for granted his sacrifice and stomp on the truth left him feeling distasteful. But he knows the human friend would not have wanted that, so he doesn't take any action or effort to convince them otherwise. If they wish to live in ignorance so be it, but at least he and his brothers know the truth.

Thank you for the ask!!

#darksiders #darksiders oc #darksiders nephilim #darksiders original character #nephilim #darksiders ocs #darksiders war #darksiders death #darksiders strife #darksiders fury #fury #darksiders ask #reader #darksiders horsemen #darksiders asks #asks #ask #strife #death #war