#This might be a good time to point out I have no idea what the difference between a crow and a raven is

[tofixtheshadows]

I've been thinking a lot lately about how Kabru deprives himself.

Kabru as a character is intertwined with the idea that sometimes we have to sacrifice the needs of the few for the good of the many. He ultimately subverts this first by sabotaging the Canaries and then by letting Laios go, but in practice he's already been living a life of self-sacrifice.

Saving people, and learning the secrets of the dungeons to seal them, are what's important. Not his own comforts. Not his own desires. He forces them down until he doesn't know they're there, until one of them has to come spilling out during the confession in chapter 76.

Specifically, I think it's very significant, in a story about food and all that it entails, that Kabru is rarely shown eating. He's the deuteragonist of Dungeon Meshi, the cooking manga, but while meals are the anchoring points of Laios's journey, given loving focus, for Kabru, they're ... not.

I'm sure he eats during dungeon expeditions, in the routine way that adventurers must when they sit down to camp. But on the surface, you get the idea that Kabru spends most of his time doing his self-assigned dungeon-related tasks: meeting with people, studying them, putting together that evidence board, researching the dungeon, god knows what else. Feeding himself is secondary.

He's introduced during a meal, eating at a restaurant, just to set up the contrast between his party and Laios's. And it's the last normal meal we see him eating until the communal ending feast (if you consider Falin's dragon parts normal).

First, we get this:

Kabru's response here is such a non-answer, it strongly implies to me that he wasn't thinking about it until Rin brought it up. That he might not even be feeling the hunger signals that he logically knew he should.

They sit down to eat, but Kabru is never drawn reaching for food or eating it like the rest of his party. He only drinks.

It's possible this means nothing, that we can just assume he's putting food in his mouth off-panel, but again, this entire manga is about food. Cooking it, eating it, appreciating it, taking pleasure in it, grounding yourself in the necessary routine of it and affirming your right to live by consuming it. It's given such a huge focus.

We don't see him eat again until the harpy egg.

What a significant question for the protagonist to ask his foil in this story about eating! Aren't you hungry? Aren't you, Kabru?

He was revived only minutes ago after a violent encounter. And then he chokes down food that causes him further harm by triggering him, all because he's so determined to stay in Laios's good graces.

In his flashback, we see Milsiril trying to spoon-feed young Kabru cake that we know he doesn't like. He doesn't want to eat: he wants to be training.

Then with Mithrun, we see him eating the least-monstery monster food he can get his hands on, for the sake of survival- walking mushroom, barometz, an egg. The barometz is his first chance to make something like an a real meal, and he actually seems excited about it because he wants to replicate a lamb dish his mother used to make him!

...but he doesn't get to enjoy it like he wanted to.

Then, when all the Canaries are eating field rations ... Kabru still isn't shown eating. He's only shown giving food to Mithrun.

And of course the next time he eats is the bavarois, which for his sake is at least plant based ... but he still has to use a coping mechanism to get through it.

I don't think Kabru does this all on purpose. I think Kui does this all on purpose. Kabru's Post Traumatic Stress Disorder should be understood as informing his character just as much as Laios's autism informs his. It's another way that Kabru and Laios act as foils: where Laios takes pleasure in meals and approaches food with the excitement of discovery, Kabru's experiences with eating are tainted by his trauma. Laios indulges; Kabru denies himself. Laios is shown enjoying food, Kabru is shown struggling with it.

And I can very easily imagine a reason why Kabru might have a subconscious aversion towards eating.

Meals are the privilege of the living.

#Dungeon Meshi #Delicious in Dungeon #Kabru #Kabru of Utaya #Laios Touden #Dungeon Meshi meta #you can have him in the tags too. as a treat. #Dungeon Meshi spoilers #this was directly inspired by livelaughlaios's post about Kabru self harming but I decided it got too long to make it a direct reply #this is a theory I've been working on for weeks because I kept noticing this while skimming for screencaps #I'm hesitant to trigger tag this because of the way certain subcultures on tumblr operate #but if anyone needs me to add a content warning please let me know #also I included image descriptions! I did my best #I think they even help illustrate my points but my god were they sad to write. Kabru is so fucking sad you guys #musings with Dea

[hgfictionwriter]

Handy - Part Three

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: Your projects with Jessie are coming to a close. What's next?

Warnings: Nothing again - just more corny, cheesy romance.

A/N: Final part! Thanks again everyone. Part One and Part Two if you need them.

“Oh good, you have my bed set up already,” you said with a pointed look over your shoulder as you approached Jessie’s couch that had a pillow and blankets laid out on it. You reached out asking her to hand you your bag, which she’d insisted on carrying inside for you.

She raised her eyebrows and wordlessly walked into her bedroom with your bag.

“Jessie!” You scolded as you practically stomped after her.

You spied the subdued smirk on lips as she set your bag down on the bed. You came up next to her and tried to grab your bag, but Jessie wasn’t budging.

“Jessie.” You repeated and she merely snickered. You planted your feet and tried to push against her with your shoulder to get to the bag. She hardly swayed. You tried to push her arm with your hands, which was an even worse idea because now you were brutally distracted by how her muscles were flexing under your grasp. Jessie just kept laughing under her breath.

“Come on,” you whined now. “I can’t kick you out of your bed again.”

“I’m offering it to you. You’re not kicking me out,” she corrected calmly. “If it means anything, I give you points for effort.”

You exhaled with a frustrated groan and crossed your arms. You vaguely noted how she smiled quietly at you.

“Whatever. Fine,” you said flatly.

“Great. Thank you for being so accommodating,” she said wryly with a short laugh. “Now wait here. I’ll get you that heat pack for your back.”

Your face was still heavy with a frown as you peered over your shoulder when she walked to another room. You contemplated your options for a moment before closing the bedroom door and getting changed as quickly as you could. You opened the door gingerly, trying to be discrete and rushed out to the couch to get under the covers.

“It might be a little too hot, so just be care-” Jessie stopped mid-sentence and mid-step, a deep frown quickly settling on her face. When she spoke her voice was high and taut. “What the hell is this?” You laughed, very satisfied with yourself.

“Guess you’re taking the bed,” you said smugly.

She scoffed, putting the heat pack down on a table. “You clearly underestimate me.” She crossed her arms and looked down at you. “Y/N. Please get up and take the bed.”

“Jessie. It’s only fair. Come on - you took the couch last time.”

“Y/N.”

“I’m not moving,” you told her defiantly. “And you have a game! You need to get a good sleep.”

“I won’t sleep well if you’re on the couch,” she said without missing a beat. You rolled your eyes.

“Jess, you’re being silly. Just take the bed. It’s your apartment!”

“I will ask one more time,” she said calmly. “Please get up.”

You were in a stare down and you chose not to speak. Neither of you broke eye contact for several moments before Jessie raised her eyebrows slightly and exhaled.

“You asked for it.”

You drew yourself into the couch briefly before exclaiming as Jessie reached down and hoisted you up off of the couch in her arms. You flailed momentarily before gripping onto her tightly for fear of falling.

She crossed into the bedroom in a few easy steps and set you down on the bed, her face inadvertently closer to yours than expected. You released each other quickly and though Jessie’s face was suddenly crimson red, from the heat you felt on yours, you imagined you weren’t far off either.

Jessie took a couple of exaggerated steps back from the bed and clasped her hands behind her back, gaze meeting yours briefly before falling to the floor.

“I’m sorry. That was probably highly inappropriate. But I feel very strongly that I will take the couch.”

“Okay,” you accepted mildly as you were still far too distracted by the physical proximity of the exchange. “You win.”

“I’m really sorry,” she went on, her blush not letting up and now she scratched her temple nervously. “We do stuff like that all the time - like, me and my teammates. I didn’t really think. It doesn’t mean anything, you know.” She rambled on.

“Okay. It’s fine,” you told her. And it was. More than fine. If anything you hoped she was lying when she said it didn’t mean anything.

“Um, here,” she started before scurrying out and back in with the heat pack held out for you. “Careful - it’s still really hot,” she went on.

“Jessie. It’s totally fine. Thank you.” You took it from her and she took another large step back. “I didn’t mind at all. We’re good,” you assured her with a laugh. She nodded rapidly and gave you a stiff smile.

“Okay, well, have a good sleep.” Her fingers were now twisting and tapping against one another in front of her. “I thought I’d make us French toast for breakfast.” She trailed off slightly in volume. “You said you like that.”

While you’d recovered, Jessie was clearly still anxious about the whole exchange. You got up and you saw her swallow as her eyes followed you. You smiled at her.

“That sounds amazing. Thank you.” You closed the space between you and wrapped your arms around her in a hug, which she was slow to reciprocate, but soon her arms were wrapped tightly around your back. You soon pulled away, trying not to let your nerves get the best of you as the touch lingered. You smiled at her again. “And thank you for all of your help today. Sleep tight.”

She returned your smile, looking far more relaxed now than a minute ago.

“Good night.”

—————

You’d offered to get a head start on painting while Jessie would be at her game, but she was adamant that you wait for her. It didn’t take much convincing, your body honestly needed the break.

While you’d been to Jessie’s - well, Janine’s - games before, you couldn’t say that you’d ever arrived together.

You were so distracted the entire lead up. Her getting her bag ready, quietly witnessing her pre-game rituals and it affected you in a way you didn’t fully expect.

Jessie pulled over a couple of blocks away from the stadium and turned to you.

“I hate to do this, but you should get out here. The media team loves taking videos and photos of players arriving and you don’t want to get caught up in that.”

You nodded eagerly. “Yeah, no thank you!”

“I’ll find you after the game.” Jessie told you. She was very much in a serious headspace, but she cracked a radiant smile for you. “And we should still have enough time to finish the final coat.”

You gawked internally at how your body almost instinctively leaned over to give her a kiss. You blushed and she frowned at you, likely confused.

“Okay. Have a great game. I’ll see you after.”

You took your time and made your way to your seat in the stands. You followed up on missed messages while you waited for warm-ups, but your mind was constantly drawn back to the past 24 hours with Jessie. More than once you caught yourself smiling.

Eventually, staff and some players from the visiting team started to trickle out onto the field. Soon enough, the Thorns came out and you cheered alongside the rest of the crowd. With zero effort, you spotted Jessie in the group of players as they began to run drills.

As usual, Jessie was very in the zone. She wore a subtle frown on her face as she went through exercises. It was the norm that Jessie steadfastly ignored you as soon as she was on the pitch, so you weren’t bothered. Janine, on the other hand, waved up at you enthusiastically, drawing out a laugh from you.

However, a wave of surprise went through you when Jessie was jogging back to the start of a drill and glanced up at you to gave a small series of quick waves, coupled with a tight-lipped smile. You were so caught off guard you didn’t even wave back in time before she turned and began sprinting again.

Warm-ups ended and you watched as the team retreated back to the tunnel. Your eyes were drawn to Jessie who walked back, her cheeks adorably rosy. She glanced up at you, catching each other’s eye. She lifted her hand tentatively in a half wave. This time you readily waved back.

You squinted as Janine came running up behind her and slung an arm around her shoulders, immediately leaning in and whispering something. You frowned further as Jessie ducked her head, dodging away from Janine - cheeks redder than before - and gave her a light shove before running off. Janine simply laughed and waved up at you again.

The game went by quickly. Probably aided by the fact that Jessie played the full 90, keeping your attention squarely on her the game.

The final whistle blew and you killed time in the stands. After the crowds dispersed you heard a loud whistle ring through the stands and you saw Janine waving you down to the pitch.

You gave her a skeptical look as you saw the smug smirk on her face as she leaned against the barrier and waited for you.

“Good game,” you said slowly as you eyed her. “That goal was a banger.”

Mention of the goal seemed to momentarily distract her and she went with it, giving a flamboyant flip of her hair. “Oh that? No big deal.” Her expression then turned impish. “You know what is a big deal though?”

“I’m afraid to ask,” you said in a flat voice, already rolling your eyes.

“Spending the night at Jess’s house,” she whispered conspiratorially while waggling her eyebrows at you.

You felt heat rushing to your face immediately but worked to fend it off.

“Oh please. Don’t even start with me,” you said dismissively.

“Oh no. You’re not getting off the hook that easily,” Janine responded with a wicked grin.

“What are you implying anyhow?” You asked, sounding disinterested.

“Oh I don’t know. Just two of my best friends having a ‘friendly’ little sleep over and purposefully hiding it. Seems a bit sus to me,” she teased.

“Oh my God, Janine,” you chided. “And truly. There’s nothing going on anyway.” You tried to rid your voice of disappointment. She shot you a doubtful look. You huffed and when you spoke your voice was low. “Seriously. There’s nothing to report.” You paused, a small spark of hope burgeoning in your chest. “Unless if Jessie’s telling you something different.”

Janine rolled her eyes and guffawed in exaggeration. “Seriously? You think she’s telling me anything? She guards things like they’re state secrets.”

“Well you heard I spent the night.”

“Simply through powers of deduction,” Janine corrected before grinning once more. “The only confirmation she gave me was the bright red blush on her cheeks. And now you confirming it too.”

“Oh my God,” you complained. You had to laugh at how self-satisfied she looked though. “And for the record. She slept on the couch. Even though I told her I’d take it this time.” You rolled your eyes in recollection.

“This time?!” Janine asked, eyes wide and leaning in. “As in more than once?”

Oh shit.

“What are you two talking about?”

You felt a lightness come over you as you heard Jessie’s voice. You turned your head to her with a smile as she came up beside Janine.

“Oh nothing,” Janine said very innocently, but with a concealed grin on her face.

You shot Jessie a look and she immediately sighed.

“You’re giving her a hard time too, now?” She asked. “Leave her alone, Janine.” The blonde merely snickered. Jessie gave you a nod, beckoning you. “Let’s go.”

“Have fun painting,” Janine called after you both. “Domestic bliss looks good on you!”

Both you and Jessie stopped in your tracks, mouths open, scandalized. You both turned on your heels.

“Shut up!”

Blushes immediately formed on your faces as you looked to each other and Janine keeled over laughing.

“You’re in sync already!”

You shot each other a look and hurried out.

—————

With Janine’s razzing behind you, you both focused on applying a final coat of paint throughout your apartment.

It was easier and faster than yesterday, not only with a bit more practice under your belt, but your teamwork was even more cohesive.

Were you still distracted when Jessie came out of the bathroom in her paint clothes, casually walking over to you as she tucked in her shirt and put on your hat again? Yes. Or when she was cutting in on her section of the room, brow furrowed in concentration as she wiped her forehead with the back of her hand? Certainly.

Never mind when she approached you, retrieving the towel she had hanging from her back pocket. “You have something…do you mind?” She asked as she gestured to your cheek and held up the towel. You merely shook your head and she gently wiped away some paint before tucking the end of the towel back into her pocket.

That just about did you in.

You ate a late dinner together, huddled up on the floor, letting the paint dry before moving furniture back.

With everything more or less back in place, Jessie stood by the door once more ready to leave.

“Looks really good in here,” she said as she took in your work.

“Thanks to you.”

She gave you a mild look, but cracked a smile.

“So…,” She trailed off. “What’s the next project?” You peered around, but ultimately shrugged.

“I really don’t know. I’m pretty happy with everything as is.” You made a slight face and spoke regretfully. “I think that might be it. For now anyway.”

Jessie gave a slow nod paired with a small noise of acceptance, but didn’t say anything. You took a breath and spoke instead.

"I've really enjoyed spending time with you these past few weeks. It's been a lot of fun. It didn't feel like work," you gave a small laugh, "-well, I suppose because you did all of the work. Anyway, I hope you take me up on the offer to hang out even without projects, because...I've had a great time and I hope we still get to see each other."

Jessie nodded with a tight smile. "Yeah, of course. I-I had a good time, too." Neither of you spoke for a moment until Jessie gave you a wry smirk. "If I run more errands near your office we can still go for lunch. If you have time."

A small wave of disappointment went through you despite the wink and nudge of her comment. You didn't want to just have lunch with her. You gave a small smile.

"Yeah, that's always an option."

Jessie smiled, but didn't say more. You searched your mind for other ways to encourage momentum.

"Hey, you mentioned that new restaurant downtown, maybe we could check it out together,” you proposed hopefully.

Belated realization crossed Jessie’s face and she nodded. "Oh yeah. That sounds good."

A small pit formed in your stomach. She didn't seem all that excited. She eventually brought a finger up to her chin in contemplation.

"I have international duty coming up, so I'll be gone for a few weeks. But, when I get back?"

You smiled. "Yeah, of course."

Jessie exhaled through her nose. "Okay. Well. You've gotta work tomorrow, so I'll let you go. But, um, yeah. It looks great in here." She repeated as she stood idle for a second before smiling at you. "We'll text."

You offered a stiff smile. "Yeah."

A few beats passed before you both initiated a hug. It lingered longer than usual, but you still felt the weight of disappointment when she pulled away.

She gave you a small smile. "Night." You mustered up a smile of your own and nodded before she gave you a wave and left.

You closed the door behind her and stood there for several moments, unsure of what just happened. Things had been going so well and then suddenly fizzled. You frowned. Did you read into things? Maybe she legitimately just wanted to help you and that was it. She was really that thoughtful and generous of a friend.

You sighed heavily and turn on your heel. You were too much in your feelings and needed to relax. You should reflect on things in the morning instead.

A knock came at your door, pulling a perplexed expression out of you. You turned back and walked over to the door to peer through the peephole.

Jessie. You frowned further. She was looking around and seemed tense. You opened the door.

"Hey Jess. Everything okay?"

She moved past you quickly before stopping in front of you.

"Yeah. I just forgot something," she told you, almost short on breath.

You didn't get a chance to inquire, because she took a step forward, her hand coming up to cup the side of your neck and kiss you. The kiss was hard and a bit stiff and it caught you completely off guard. You let out a muffled noise of surprise and she pulled back with the cutest look of worry on her face though her hand remained warmly on your neck.

"Wa-was that okay? I didn't ask first."

You reached forward and grabbed her hoodie, pulling her back in and kissing her once more. She stumbled into you, but quickly recovered and relaxed into the kiss. You continued to kiss, wrapping your arms around one another. You would've felt beyond embarrassed by the slight moan that escaped you as she deepened her kiss, if not for the one that came from her immediately after.

When you broke apart, you were both breathless and warmth radiated from your cheeks. You held back your smile of elation.

"Took you long enough," you teased as you bundled her hoodie in your hands and gave her the gentlest push. She smiled, giving a sniff of a laugh as she pulled you closer. You kissed her again.

"You had me worried at the end there," you told her quietly. She exhaled, her eyes searching yours.

"Yeah, that didn't end the way I was picturing it would," she said before cracking a smirk. "Hence me coming back."

Your smile grew and you cupped her cheek. You kissed her once more, her readily returning it.

"I'm so glad you did." You let out a small laugh and frowned at her. "I was legitimately contemplating if I'd misread everything and you were really just itching to do some renovation projects."

She laughed in return, a blush returning to her cheeks.

"Yeah, not entirely," she deadpanned. "I legitimately enjoyed doing those projects with you, but yeah, I can't say I didn't have ulterior motives." She snickered lightly. "Kelli heard I've been doing this work for you and she's been asking me to come by and fix her kitchen faucet. I keep dodging it and telling her I'm busy."

"You mean you don't do this for everyone?" You feigned surprise before continuing. You laced your fingers behind her neck and idly ran a thumb along the nape of her neck. You worked to cap the feeling inside of you as she leaned into your touch.

"If I was really smart," you continued, "I would've dragged this out until you built me a whole new apartment."

Jessie didn't skip a beat.

"I'll build you anything you want," she said, her tone serious and gaze steady. You bit your lip. Who was this girl?

"I really, really like you," you told her softly and slowly. "Have I told you that?"

"Not exactly," she replied before gesturing to your surroundings with a nod. "I think half your condo is a testament to how much I like you."

You bit back a grin. "You could always say it...," you coaxed hopefully. She gave you a quiet smile.

"I really, really like you, Y/N."

You captured her lips again in a kiss. When you pulled back a soft sigh of disappointment escaped you.

"Are you sure you have to go?"

Your heart raced as she leaned her forehead against yours and squeezed you tighter. You could hardly believe what was happening. A short while ago Jessie was telling you "We'll text" and now her body was flush against yours, she was telling you how much she liked you and kisses peppered your conversation. It was like a new evolution of Jessie - a side of her you'd only dreamt of.

"You're making it very hard to leave," she said with a sigh. "Believe me I don't want to." She leaned her head down to lay a single kiss on your neck and very successfully sending shivers down your spine. "I have a team meeting first thing in the morning."

You bit the inside of your lip. You should really try to be good. But with Jessie finally in your arms, you didn't want the moment to end.

"I can drive you in the morning." You smiled at her. "It's only fair." She chuckled and you leaned in. “And, if you’re comfortable with it, no one has to take the couch tonight.”

A/N: Well, that's all, folks! Thanks again for the indulging me. Hope you all enjoyed!

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #jflem #woso x reader #woso #woso community #woso imagine #canwnt #janine beckie #portland thorns

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Shining Din Djarin x Female Reader

Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: You want Mando to make you shine. Warnings: Smut, oral (m receiving), exhibitionism (you let Din watch you masturbate), p in v sex, creampie (reader has an implant), light sub/dom vibes, Din gets handcuffed by his own binders, sensory deprivation with the help of Din's helmet. Words: 3,735 A/N: This idea has been dancing around in my head for the past week, thanks to @frannyzooey for her thot night post and kind motivation. Also, shout out to "Ghost In The Machine" by SZA. I dunno man, this is the first time I've ever written Din and wow, he was fun.

Mandalorians want for nothing, so why did he want you so bad? 

Months of you joining him on his hunts, a damned demand of Karga. “She’s young and capable, she’ll be good for my little friend to have someone else to take care of him. I won’t take no, you owe me.” 

Your little trinkets taking up precious cargo in his small ship, your pretty face always shining through the display tempting him to give it all up just for a glimpse of the color of your soft skin, your beautiful body keeping him up and frustrated at night while you sleep soundly on the cot you insisted you needed. The only reason why he caved is because he was tired of you sneaking into his pod and leaving his blankets smelling like you. 

The kid, the damn kid loves you, adores you. He’s pretty sure he loves you more than he loves him. The way you talk to him with your sweet voice, the way you run over to him whenever he lets out a frustrated cry, the way his kid looks held in your arms as you soothe him.

He was frustrated, he was at his breaking point. You’re so beautiful and so delicate and yet you call him out on his shit, you keep him in line. He’s never wanted anybody like he wants you.

He hated facing you after stepping out of the fresher, always feeling like you can look behind the beskar he’s covered in. Like you know he just came on the shower wall imagining the cold, flat metal is the warm, silky skin of your tits. 

Tonight, in the middle of nowhere on this backwater planet, you trounce around the fire in your gauze sleep gown, smiling and laughing as the kid chases you. You look like an angel, lit by the flames licking across your skin casting your body in a deep amber glow. He tries to focus on the gun he’s cleaning to keep his attention off of you but he can’t stop staring. He counts the minutes until it’s the kid’s bedtime. He has to do something about this, either he needs to take you back home or he needs to feel how your cunt feels wrapped around his cock. Taking you home would be easier. 

——

“Well, that didn’t take long,” you say, leaning against the opening of the ship. 

He nods at you, his helmet still downcast focused on cleaning his armor. He’s gotten used to you obviously, he’ll at least remove a piece of armor in front of you. Never the helmet, you understand that, but seeing him without his usual chest piece makes you so wet he might as well be fully naked.

You’re going mad, the Crest isn’t a big ship and he’s a big man. If you have to feel the cool touch of beskar against your skin as you move past him one more time you just might explode. 

You’re used to getting what you want, you’re smart, you’re clever, you’re resolute. Like Karga always tells you, “you have spunk kid, nobody will ever be able to tell you no.” That’s why you put the white nightgown on, he might be wearing a helmet, but you can always tell just how much he likes what you’re wearing by how hard you feel his stare behind that faceless mask, you really feel it whenever you wear this. 

“He’s tired,” you walk down the ramp, “I think all I did today was play with him, don’t know why he needed so much attention.” 

“He knows you’ll always give him it.”

“Really?” You roll your eyes as you sit across the fire from him. “At least he’ll sleep through the night, you’re welcome by the way.” 

“Hm,” he nods, still preoccupied by shining his armor. 

“Think it’s shiny enough, big guy?” You lean over, your hands resting on your knees, the neckline of your dress dipping farther down as you lean forward to look at him above the fire.

“Just about,” he’s rubbing his chest plate harder and faster… you know he’s avoiding looking over at you. 

“I love how your armor reflects the flames,” your voice coming out lower and huskier. “I love being able to watch the fire burn on your chest, like your heart’s been set aflame.”

His hand pauses, the cloth he was using sits idle against the metal. His helmet tilts up, you feel his eyes back on you. 

“Is it shiny enough for me to see that now?” 

A single nod before he lifts his armor over his head and attaches it. “I can see,” you whisper.

He stares forward, his eyes are on you, something has shifted in the air of this small circle around the fire.

You lean even more forward, the plush of your breasts almost spilling out of your dress. You watch his chest rise as he takes a deep breath in. 

“I wish I could shine like you,” your confession leaving your mouth as you run a hand up and down your neck and chest.

“You shine,” the modulated voice sizzles through you.

“Yeah? How bright can I shine for you tonight?” Your hand dipping underneath the fabric of your dress petting back and forth across your breasts.

“As bright as you want for me.”

“Sure about that? I can burn really bright. Can I see if I burn bright in your armor?”

He straightens, sitting taller and nods.

You rise off the rock, grabbing the bottom of your dress as you stand, lifting it up over your head.

You pad over to him naked, the crisp breeze of the forest hitting your skin. It truly feels like you’re the only two people on this whole planet. His hands clench into fists as you stand in front of him. 

“Can’t see much, just the outline of my body in the flickering light. What do you see?”

“You,” the modulated crackling as he chokes out, “all of you.”

You lift one of his hands, grabbing the edge of his glove. “Can I?” 

He nods. 

You remove it. Thick fingers, well manicured short nails, trails of veins running through strong muscles. Your cunt begins to weep as you think of what his hand would feel like between your legs. You’ve seen his bare hands before, sometimes he gives the kid it to entertain himself with, sometimes he needs his hand bare to repair something. But, you’ve never seen it this close. It’s the only body part you’ve seen of his, you imagine the rest of him to be just as golden, just as toned, just as thick as his hand. 

You rest it on your hip, a moan escapes your mouth at the contact. He lets out a huff of modulated air as he grips your skin. 

“Maker,” you whisper into the night sky, just his hand on you igniting something powerful. He tests you, running a lazy line up to your chest and back down to your hips, the path sets your skin ablaze. You want him to go lower, you want one of his thick fingers to push inside, you want him to feel how wet you are.

“See, sometimes you shine too bright, and it does things to me. Sometimes I can’t look away and it makes being around you really hard for me and I have to sneak my hand down at night ‘n try to dull that ache. I think you feel the same way… sometimes I can hear you in that fresher,” his head raises towards you, his grip tightening now searing against your skin, “the walls are thin.”

“I hear you… I-I listen.” Maker, his voice. You’ve never heard his voice this way, the shame dripping out of the tinny speakers.

Your eyebrow raises at his confession. “You listen to me?”

A solemn nod, downcast.

“Hey,” you touch the edge of his helmet, lifting it so he can look at you. This is the first time you’ve ever touched it. In fact, this is the first time you’ve actually touched him, besides a quick brush as you move past or put the baby in his arms. “I like that. Would you watch me if you could?” 

His helmet nods in your hold. 

You can feel the tensity radiating off of him, you know he’s a hunter you know that under all of those layers he’s screaming to get out, to attack you, to make you his bounty. 

“You know, I see you hunt people all of the time. I can’t explain what it does to me to see your big body in the distance walking towards us and the ship, your bounty cuffed and subservient to you. I love the power you hold, but I think you’d like someone else to have that power over you. Am I right?”

“Yes.” 

“Can I have that power over you?” 

“Yes.”

“You want to watch me?” 

He nods.

You turn away from him, grabbing the blanket folded on the rock you were using earlier to look up at the stars with the kid, laying it on the ground by the fire. You settle yourself on it, the warmth from the flames heating your body. You lean back on your hands, locking your knees together. 

“Tell me what you want to see, you’re such a being of few words, talk to me.”

“Open your legs.”

You separate your legs, spreading them open, your pussy is on full display for him, dripping for him. His hands rest on his knees as he leans forward. 

“Touch yourself,” he whispers out.

You trail your hand down to in between your legs, rubbing a line from your clit to your hole. 

“Am I shining here for you?”

“Yes,” the modulator crackles as he hisses.

Your fingers light a trail around your clit, your hips cant up whenever you rub against the tight bundle of nerves. You’re putting on a show for him, biting your lip and staring straight forward into the small window of his helmet. Even though you can’t see them, you know his eyes are only focused on you. You moan into the night, tilting your head back to look at the stars as your finger dips into your entrance. 

You can hear his breathing over the squelchy sound of your finger pumping in and out of you, your head turning back down towards him when you hear a low groan. His hands are gripping his knees, he’s leaning over as far as he can as he watches you fuck yourself. 

The way his large shoulders are rising and falling rapidly as his breathing quickens makes your body ache, your palm knocks against your clit as you add another finger and fuck yourself.  

“Do you want me to cum for you like this?” 

“C-c-can I touch you when you do?”

Oh, his voice. It’s so heavy and yet so light. You’ve never heard it like this, he sounds so young, so excited, so unlike the scary Mandalorian that secretly intimidates you, not that you’d ever let him know. 

“Come here,” you shuffle your feet wider, spreading your legs as far as you can. “Kneel down.”

He moves lightning quick, a dash of metal appearing in between your legs. He’s so fucking big, so fucking broad, so fucking handsome, so fucking strong, he drives you crazy and all you’ve ever seen of him is his hand. 

He takes his other glove off and throwing it to the side before tentatively placing his hands on your knees, the feel of his rough palms planting against your soft skin bringing you closer to your climax. 

“Cum for me,” he whispers. You wish he didn’t have that damn helmet, you wish his real voice could float across the air and land against your cunt. 

His hands grip you harder as your hips begin to rise and fall while you writhe against the soft blanket, your cunt tightening around your fingers as you pull yourself onto the cliff and leap down into the ocean of your pleasure. 

You don’t break eye contact with Mando, his firm stare you feel behind that damned black shield shattering your heart and your pussy into a million pieces as you scream out into the vast wilderness of the night. 

His hands chart a path across your knees, his touch so gentle versus the way he was just clutching you as you came for him. 

“Did I shine for you?” Your voice comes out smaller and more delicate than you wanted. 

“Brightly.” 

“Can I make you shine bright for me?” 

“Yes.”

“Can I have my way with you, the way I want it? The way I’ve dreamed about taking you?” You sit up, his hands still rub your legs, as if once you’ve given him permission to touch you it’s all he wants to do now. 

He nods. 

You turn your head to the side, looking at all of his now clean weapons laid out on the table. The binders are still there, their presence has been on your mind since you saw him pick them up earlier to clean. 

“Can I borrow something from over there?”

“What?”

“Can I borrow your binders?”

“Y-yes.”

You rise up off the blanket, moving quickly to pick them up, as if you don’t do this right now, he’s going to back out. You’re now the hunter. You pick them up in your hand, they’re heavier than you thought, the metal is cool against your touch.

“Can I cuff you like I caught you… like you’re my bounty?”

His deep growl as he tips his head back shoots a wave of pleasure through your body, you can only assume it matches what he’s currently feeling. You love that the two of you are now sharing in each other’s pleasure instead of hiding it behind the thin metal walls of a spaceship. 

“Yes.”

You can’t hide your smile as you stalk towards him, like he’s now caught and you’re ready to get your reward. He hasn’t moved from where he knelt in front of you as he watched you fuck yourself.

“Can you take your vambraces off for me?”

He deftly removes them without a word, laying them next to him.

“Can you do something else for me?” 

He nods.

“Can you show me how to turn your volume and display off in your helmet? You saw my cunt, you heard me fuck myself, but you’ve never felt my pussy or mouth. I want you to only feel it now.”

“Dank farrik,” he grunts. “Yes.” 

He picks up a vambrace, putting in a couple of codes, his fingers driving you crazy as they move across the small buttons. 

“Press this when you want it,” he pants out as he hands it to you.

“Thank you. Put your hands in front, raise them up.” 

He follows your instructions. He looks so good like this, kneeling in front of you ready to serve, you like having this power over him. This must be how he feels whenever he catches his prey.

You grab one of his arms, pushing the sleeve up of his flight suit. His skin is just as bronzed as you expected it to be, born that way, hidden away for years underneath fabric and armor. You do the same with the other arm, the sight of his toned and hairy forearms causing a wave of heat to spread over your body.

You put a cuff over his wrist, locking it in place. You look up at him, checking to make sure he’s okay with this. He nods his approval as you slip the other cuff on and lock it. He’s now bound, still kneeling, his thick legs supporting him as he lowers his hands down. 

“Good?” You whisper as you stand tall in front of him. “Lay on your back, put your arms over your head.” 

You’ll never not be shocked at how big he is, yet how easily he moves in his large body. He takes up the whole blanket. Your mouth waters as you notice how his pants are tented as he lays down for you.

“I promise I won’t remove any more armor or your helmet, but I will help myself to you. I want you to be as loud as you can be, let yourself go, let me have the power, you deserve it. I’m going to turn off the display and your sound, is that okay?”

“Yes, Maker, yes.”

“If you need me, say Lothal,” you hit the button he showed you, Din’s head thuds against the dirt as you imagine he’s now cast in complete darkness and silence. You listen to his deep breathing as you look down at him. Fuck, this is going to be good. 

You settle on the ground kneeling between his spread legs, just like he did for you. Your hands move across the rough fabric of his flight suit, his hoarse groan rumbles through his body when you caress his thighs.

“That’s it, that’s it baby,” you whisper to nobody, the thrill of seeing him like this letting go for you makes your head spin. 

The shape of his hard cock straining against the zipper of his flight suit beckons you. You run a hand across it, his whole body shudders. He’s panting, the sounds of his struggle soaring into the air causing goosebumps to prickle against your skin and your cunt to clench.

You lick your lips as you unzip the zipper, grabbing the heft of him and lifting it out. Maker, Maker, Maker. He’s so wide and firm, just like you knew he would be. Swollen, throbbing, fucking gorgeous, precum leaking down his tip.   

He lets out a rasped “ahhh” as you wrap your fist around his length. His skin is so soft, so silky, so firm. Your thumb swipes across his tip, collecting the precum on the pad of it, bringing it to your mouth to taste him. He tastes delicious… salty and musky. You sit back and watch him lay there vulnerable only for you, his exposed cock twitching in the light of the fire. Your head, heart, and core are heavy with want for this mystery of a man… you wonder if anybody has ever had him like you do right now. 

“Mesh’la?” His voice breaks you out of your daze. Mando’a, you’ve never heard him speak it. You make a note to yourself to look that word up on your datapad later. 

“I’m here,” you say before realizing he can’t hear you. You place a hand on his thigh and gently squeeze it as you lay in between his thick thighs, his legs caging you in. 

You angle your head forward and seal your mouth over the head of his cock, his whole body shivers as you suck him. He feels so good in your mouth, you love the slight stretch of your lips as you move his length down your throat. 

Your eyes water as you take him all the way down, his tip hitting the back of your throat making you gag around him. You slide him out of your mouth, grabbing him at the base and slapping his length against your lips, you revel in the sting it leaves against your skin as you stick him back in and bob your mouth up and down, your tongue tasting the salt of his skin. 

You hollow your cheeks around him, the combined sounds of ecstasy coming out of the speakers of his helmet mixed with the slurp of your lips soundtrack the night as his hips begin to lift when he begins fucking into your mouth. 

You know he’s close, the way his moans garble, the way his hips begin to stutter as you swirl your tongue against him. He chokes out a protest as you slip him out of your mouth, leaving him pulsing. You’re selfish, you want what you want and he’s given you the opportunity tonight to take whatever you want from him. 

You grab his vambrace before sitting down and straddling his thighs. Reaching down you grab his cock, angling him to rub between your soaked folds, the tip bumps against your swollen clit and you yelp. 

You want him to watch, you want him to hear. You hit the button on his vambrace, his helmet instantly pops up, the black T of his helmet angled to look right at the apex of your thighs. 

“Wanted you to see this,” you say as you rise up, grabbing his cock and slowly sinking yourself down on it. 

Your body accepts all of him as you roll your hips, getting comfortable around the feeling of being stuffed so full of him.

“You feel so good in me, I knew you would, let me do the work, let me fuck you,” you whimper as he stretches your tight hole. 

You use him to fuck yourself, he lays perfectly still like you asked him, you never imagined he’d listen so well to your instructions. He’s panting for you, his arms still raised above his head, his wrists straining against the cuffs, hands forming tight fists as you begin to pound him. 

You move your hand down to start rubbing circles around your clit, you’re on the edge of another orgasm, you can tell he’s even closer. 

“You can cum for me, I have the implant, I want to feel you pump your cum inside me, cum for me Mando.”

His helmet bobbles as his body shudders underneath you.

It destroys you, the feel of his big cock spearing you as he empties himself into you, the sound of the garbled words he’s grunting as he tilts his hips up into you, the feel of your fingers tracing your clit, the heat of the fire warming your already feverish body. 

You strangle his cock as you orgasm, your slick mixing with his spend inside you as you lean forward on him, laying your body on top of his. You reach up and remove both cuffs, throwing them to the side as he shakes each hand out. You stare into his helmet, you can make out the reflection of your face in the black T of his visor. 

“I can see myself shining in you now,” you say as he wraps his arms around you. 

#din djarin fic #din djarin ff #Mandalorian fic #din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin smut #pedro pascal #mandalorian smut #din djarin x reader #mandalorian x you #pedro pascal character fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #mandalorian fanfic #Mandalorian ff #din djarin one shot

[fooled-around-and-fell]

how low can you go?

summary: gojo satoru is possessive. you are also possessive. apparently it's not good to be possessive over your partner, so you're... trying to work it out. not really. pairing: gojo satoru x female reader content warnings: borderline toxic relationship (or maybe no borderline, just toxic), jealousy, fluff a/n: not my best work... slightly weird... kinda just wanted the banter and make it short so... thank you for the idea luv, sorry if I did not do it justice :") @sadmonke

Masterlist

-----

You've talked about it before -- Satoru being possessive and you.. being the same. You literally almost threw a dart between a girl's eyes, through her skull and into her brain because Satoru was trying to get you jealous. And Satoru... well... let's just say you had to pay bail.

So here you are, in the living room, both sulking and irritated. You and Satoru recently met a friend who's a couple's therapist apparently, and she said what you and Satoru currently have is highly toxic. She recommended you and Satoru fix things before it gets out of hand.

"So, no more getting jealous." He repeats.

"Same goes to you." You mutter. "And no fighting other people."

"Or threatening or glaring-"

"-that's impossible." You glare at him to prove your point.

"Look, I'm not any happier about this than you are." He says. "But.. apparently this is what we have to do to move our relationship forward."

You sigh. And so the deal begins.

You try to soothe your glare away as you watch Satoru teach a new student. Sure, some guidance is needed, but does he need to have his hands touch her to do it?

Feeling lasers at the back of his head, Satoru turns around and grins when he sees you glaring at him. He wiggles his index finger as if saying "no, no, no jealousy or glaring," but proceeds to put his hands on the new student (appropriately, ofc, just enough to make her blush).

"Ugh." You roll your eyes when you see Satoru giggling. You're ready to let the thought go and walk away, but then you see a familiar face walking towards you and a brilliant idea pops into your head.

"Hmm, two can play that game."

"Megumi!" You call out the raven haired boy.

Satoru's head cocks to the side as he hears your voice fade, realizing your attention isn't on him anymore. Then he sees you looping an arm around Megumi -- which you've never done before, and he pouts.

"Fine. I guess we are playing that game."

You spend the rest of the day with Megumi, dragging him to where Satoru always is, feigning it as coincidence -- you're just showing the kid around the school grounds that was just recently renovated.

And though you might think Satoru will never be jealous of Megumi, the child you and him practically raised, don't forget that Satoru is jealous over any attention you give to other people but him.

"Can I go now?" Megumi sighs, tired of circling around the school grounds twice now.

"No." You smile sweetly at him before dragging him to walk towards where Satoru is.

Satoru's finished teaching the new student, and just as he's about to walk back, he runs into you, talking to Megumi about something you're apparently so passionate about.

"Hi sweetie," Satoru smiles, "Having fun with Megs?"

"Don't call me that." Megumi rolls his eyes.

"Megs and I occasionally have a good time," You answer. "Finished teaching? Hope he wasn't too rough on you." You smile back to the new student.

The new student looks flustered and Megumi sighs, deciding to be a good senior and take her back to her dorm room, away from all of your and Satoru's toxicity.

"Seriously," Megumi adds, "Get it together."

You roll your eyes at the younger boy. Always acts so mature and such an adult when he doesn't need to be one yet. Reflecting at your own actions throughout your relationship with Satoru, it's possible that you might've been acting childish.

"So this isn't working, huh?"

Satoru sighs, shaking his head. "Guess not."

You walk back home with him, hand in hand. "I'm sorry I'm a jealous person... I'd say I'll do better but... we both know I won't."

"We're both very jealous," Satoru adds, "but at the same time I'm cocky enough to know that there's no one else you'd rather be with but me."

You laugh and playfully elbow his side, "not wrong."

Satoru puts his arm around you, pulling you closer to him. "But in all seriousness, I want you to know that even though I am very jealous, I also trust you with everything I've got. I know you won't do anything to purposely hurt me."

"Never." You affirm, "And me too. I get super jealous and it's probably not healthy to silently threaten every girl who gets close to you, but I know you won't do anything."

"But is it going to ruin our relationship?" You ask out loud.

"Maybe it's just our dynamic?"

"It's super weird as far as dynamics go."

"Yeah," Satoru nods, "But we're both weird."

"We? Oh sweetie." You shake your head. "It's really just you."

Satoru pinches your nose as you tease him.

"I fucking love you, you know that?"

"I fucking love you too."

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo satoru x you #gojo x you #satoru x you #satoru x reader #satoru angst #gojo satoru angst #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru jjk #gojo x female reader #gojo satoru x female reader #satoru fluff #gojo satoru x reader fluff #satoru x female reader #satoru x female reader fluff

[revvethasmythh]

Have you witnessed discoursing about Orym in the past several months? Would you like to be more well-informed about the subject matter? Well, then, do I have a post for you! As a reference for myself and potentially for others:

A Comprehensive Write-Up Of Relevant Times And Contexts Where Orym Has Brought Up His Dead Family While The Group Discusses The Vanguard/Predathos--With Receipts

Disclaimer: these are all of the instances in which I was able to find independently through the Critical Role transcript search, not from rewatching everything. It is therefore possible there are some instances unaccounted for.

Episode 34. Post-resurrection after being killed by Otohan Thull, he brings up the fact that Otohan had a hand in killing his family to emphasize to Imogen how dangerous Otohan is and that she may potentially continue to be an issue for her specifically due to her apparent interest in Imogen (exalting her during the battle in the previous episode)

2. Episode 46. An early God Talk™️, prompted by Ludinus using (presumably) Feeblemind on Professor Kadija Sumal. He holds his opinion until the very end of the conversation, after entertaining Imogen's idea that "they make some good points" and listening to the group discuss if the gods are good or bad for several minutes.

"I don't need to debate it. I lost my husband and father to these people, I'm not on board. Some of the gods are terrifying, and some of them have put their thumbs on the scales for people for centuries, even in the last few decades. Who are they, who are we to decide who lives or dies, god or mortal or otherwise? I don't think they have any good points."

3. Episode 49. He brings them up combatively ("Well, Imogen, I wish. my family didn't have to die for their brighter tomorrow"), against Imogen's statement of, "What if it's not that bad? [...] What if what we're doing is just fighting change?" after she solely received a vision of a Utopia-like future from her mother. Imogen backs down quickly after his reproach and acknowledges that the vision was likely a part of cult brainwashing.

4. Episode 61. Orym pulls Prism aside, after she asks the party and Elder Abbadina if Predathos would cause a world-ending event, or if it would only be bad for some (the Elder did not know anything about Predathos at all), to say, "I don't think we know anything [...] The only thing I have to go on is the track record of the guys trying to bring Predathos out. And that track record is not very good." At further prompting from Prism about if he ever thought the Vanguard's ideas were right, he says, "Prism, I don't understand the gods. I don't know anything about the titans. I don't know an eidolon from eyeliner. [...] But I'm a widower, because of the people who want to bring this about. So it's hard for me to wrangle with the other side."

5. Episode 61, pt. 2. Orym listens to the party converse with Elder Abbadina for a little while longer before silently sneaking out "to go think about his dead father and his dead husband."

6. Episode 77. Another God Talk™️ with the whole party, prompted by FCG asking what everyone's motive was in going to the moon. For his reasoning, he says, "We don't know what's going to happen to any inch of this world if Predathos is unleashed. Yeah, this started with my husband and my father. It's so much bigger than that. If my life can secure the lives of everyone who comes after us, well spent."

7. Episode 92. After the death of another loved one to Otohan Thull, in response to Liliana's statement that temples might hunt down Ruidusborn in the theoretical event that Ludinus' plot is foiled, "Cold comfort for my family in the ground."

8. Episode 92, pt. 2. In response to a throwaway, thoughtless comment Ashton made that, "I hope [Liliana] is right. I really do. I hope her ends are fucking great because these means are just not forgivable." Orym has Chetney bring out Otohan's sword, jams one into the sand and declares, "This is the sword that killed my father and my husband. She is not right."

-

So, with all of the information in front of us, what conclusions can we draw from them? When asked by others to assess if the Vanguard has valid points, Orym repeatedly abstains from having an opinion. Whether or not the Vanguard has a reason to be upset is irrelevant to him--what is relevant is the loss of life they have incurred along the way. Orym takes no stance on the gods, he repeatedly states he doesn't understand them or know anything about them or harbor much of a connection to them. As far as he is concerned, his role in this is to oppose the violence being done to the people of Exandria. Why waste your time debating the merits of a cult's ideology when you know, in the end, you will have to fight against them to end the slaughter? To protect people?

And for what it's worth, in almost every instance, Ashton has effectively taken the same side as Orym. I have not included all of these moments, but they are easily located if you wanted to search up these moments on your own. The continual focus on de-legitimizing Orym's opinion seems strongly tied to the fact that he has a personal reason to hate the Vanguard. But facts being facts, Ashton hates them just the same--and he has no love of the gods, either. He hates the Vanguard based on their actions, same as Orym. In fact, Ashton and Laudna have both expressed outright dislike for the gods, and all other Bells Hells except for FCG expressed ambivalence. This is not about the gods. Not for Orym, not for the others who remain. This is about no more bodies on the pyre of Ludinus' machinations.

P.S. if you know of any other instances this topic has come up that I have not included, please feel free to let me know! I want this post to be as comprehensive as it can be, but I am fallible and may have missed something. Don't be afraid to tell me about a scene I missed!

#is this a little bit petty? yes #but also i genuinely did want all the info in one post for reference's sake #so hopefully this reference has helped others as well as decent compilation of information! #cr tag #I contemplated maintagging this. but. maybe that's a little too petty even for me #anyway the people who want to find this will probably find this. so.

[storm-driver]

hi, i have feelings about cartoon nostalgia and the audience perception of them 20 years on

this is gonna read hyper-specific, but bear with me

i refuse to credit butch hartman for the way danny phantom came out during it's first two seasons, at least outside of the initial pitch and the idea of the protagonist having white hair. i know the majority of enthusiasts for this show are more than aware of hartman's antics at this point. these anctics, i won't get into. other people are far more suited to explain that stuff vs me, a random guy on the internet. but there's very specific topics that i don't often see get brought up in detail, like the production and staff behind this show.

i'll get into it below the cut so as not to clutter your dashboard. but if you're not familiar with the actual production history of danny phantom, this might be interesting to read.

it's common knowledge these days that stephen silver is the one who developed the design for danny based on hartman's original rough sketches. the similarity between each drawing is apparent, but you can see clear as day which design was gonna be more apt for animation and overall audience allure back in 2003.

he also did character designs for hartman's other poster child, Fairly Oddparents. the trend is similar, though far from a huge concern. character design overhauls happen all the time in media production. designs might be too complicated for animation, so they get stripped down. or maybe things aren't complex enough and more nuance needs to be added. that's normal stuff, and i am not dunking on hartman for not nailing danny's design right out the gate. i'm pointing this out in case you've ever looked at butch hartman's recent work and wondered "how are these done by the same artist?"

the answer is they weren't. hartman had to adapt to stephen silver's conceptual designs in order to work on the storyboards. take from that what you will.

onto the actual writing.

butch barely wrote a single episode for this show's first two seasons.

steve marmel helped write at least 28 episodes of the original two seasons, with writers like sib ventress and marty isenberg bringing a good amount of episodes to the table, as well.

butch hartman is credited primarily for directing and storyboarding this show. the episode pitch and writing was by other people almost entirely. the ONLY episodes in the first two seasons that hartman is credited with having written are mystery meat, one of a kind and splitting images. and he's credited with co-writing these episodes alongside steve marmel and mark banker. ie, he did not write these episodes on his own. and allegedly, butch hartman had a tendency to be credited as a writer for an episode, even if he only wrote a few lines of dialogue. again, take from that what you will.

past that in season 3, he wrote infinite realms, torrent of terror, forever phantom, urban jungle, and ofc, phantom planet. which a lot of people know, these episodes in particular weren't the most enjoyable, nor was the overall direction of them very good.

a director's job is to make sure that the overall tone, feel, and message of the show is being kept consistent with intent. that means meeting with producers, who are the ones managing the, y'know, producing part of the whole project. it may sound like the director is the one heading the project if it's their job to keep things in check. which, i will not deny, hartman must've put in a good deal of work to make the show come out as well as it did.

but pile that with some of the off things per episode. the mean-spirited way that characters tend to be taught lessons, the voice direction getting a drastic change in season 3 (you can hear it explicitly with david kaufman suddenly going for higher pitches instead of the usual one he's done so far). there's really only one consistent motif in the entire show's OST. which isn't a bash against the music producer. it's a concern that the director of the show never asked him to change things up, and ONLY stuck to this one motif.

to briefly touch on the mean-spirited thing. there's multiple instances in the show where danny or someone else is seen fighting back against whatever has given them trouble, or they're taking matters into their own hands to ensure they won't be hurt ahead of time. and repeatedly, the show likes to kick these characters back down for trying to stand up. it's a trend in all of butch hartman's shows, and it's treated more like comedy than anything else. it's up to audience perception on how to view it. but for me personally, it starts to feel like an overused gag and turns into something more malevolent after seeing it overused almost every single episode.

okay besides that, i actually wanna look at specific examples of episodes that steve marmel wrote for. again, this is the guy who's more or less responsible for the show's serialization.

the complete list of episodes is as follows:

Mystery Meat, Parental Bonding, One of a Kind, Attack of the Killer Garage Sale, Splitting Images, What You Want, Bitter Reunions, Prisoners of Love, My Brother's Keeper, Shades of Gray, Fanning the Flames, Teacher of the Year, Fright Night, 13(Thirteen), Public Enemies, Memory Blank, Reign Storm, The Ultimate Enemy, The Fright Before Christmas, Secret Weapons, Flirting with Disaster, Micro Management , Kindred Spirits, and Reality Trip.

multiple episodes listed here are from the first season, which a lot of people consider the show's best. and of the handful listed for season 2, he wrote all of the hour-long specials.

i would be here for hours talking about how steve marmel tackles all of these characters and concepts significantly better than hartman does in season 3. but that's a topic best praised elsewhere. point is, if you watched any of these episodes and thought to yourself "wow, that was actually kinda clever," steve marmel is more or less the guy responsible.

butch hartman was in charge of direction, but that does not give him exclusive credit for every single line of dialogue or plot beat. there could be a LOT we just don't know because people on production staff don't want to comment. but the writing consistency taking a dive off the board by season 3, which is the same season that steve marmel departed from the project due to conflicting direction in the story? you might deduce that butch hartman was not the prized writer and artist behind this otherwise beloved cartoon.

to dredge up an easier-to-tackle target, season 3.

my criticisms are 18-year old echoes at this point, you've heard them all. from otherwise pointless episodes that don't develop the characters or world, to completely out-of-touch writing (looking at you, phantom planet) that juxtaposes the characters with everything we've been told about them so far. it became a slog of a season that didn't have any build-up to it's finale. the occasional gem of an episode like frightmare helped in some aspects. or the promise for something later with d-stabilized. but it all gets swept under the rug thanks to a rushed finale with poor build-up, bad writing direction for the characters, and most importantly, an unlasting effect on the viewer. (or a negative lasting effect, which is arguably worse)

for a season that knew it was on its last leg before inevitably needing to give up, there's seldom few episodes dedicated to advancing an overall narrative, and thus give a slimmer of hope for a satisfying conclusion. instead, the show goes all in with villain-of-the-week stories, and even the returning villains are hardly taken seriously or given more to do besides just being there.

of course, we know the reason steve marmel had left the project was because hartman wanted the show not to taken a more story-focused drive. it almost starts to feel like spite that kept the show so horribly grounded, letting it become stagnant before eventually being forgettable.

all this is in service of letting people know, it really wasn't butch hartman that made the show, not alone. death of the author and all that nonsense aside, he pitched the concept. and it takes a lot of love and dedication to make a concept something you can physically see and adore. don't let him swath in all the credit. recognize the others who made the work you can still enjoy.

#stormy weather #danny phantom #hey guess what i found in my drafts!!! #this is an INCREDIBLY old post #this is dating back to like almost 2016!!! #anyways i rewrote most of it because the og was a lil rough lol #but all of these feelings remain the same to this day #it's kinda wack #a younger me knew what he was feeling #and an older me knows how to say it

[brucewaynehater101]

You know what would be so much funnier than Tim getting into fights with Darkside? In the YJ98 comic run, at one point Darkside canonically adopts a character named Secret. Before he does so, they have a few actually cute scenes together such as him giving her genuine life lessons and advice while she was on the home world of The New Gods and when she goes to Apocolypse, instead of getting tortured like most he gives her all the ice cream she can eat <3. She even calls him Doug!

Fun fact about Secret. She is also on a team with Tim. She had a crush on him at one point! He was actively dating Steph at the time tho, but the pair are still good friends even up to modern comics! She's *still* part of the Young Justice crew through and through.

So that leads me to this silly idea you may like: Darkside and Tim exchanging parenting tips. Darkside may or may not owe Tim a few favors thanks to helping Secret with stuff (he would have done the stuff even without the promised favor it was just a nice bonus). He can go on vacation to Apocolypse any time he wants to and he perfectly safe. Has he tried to recruit Tim? Probably. But Tim just said he already has a job and when his job ends he'll think about it. None of the Bats have the faintest clue about this.

I love this idea so much. I wonder how the BruceQuest would affect this relationship, but I think they might be able to get over that slump. Perhaps Darkseid even informs Tim, after Tim goes to beat him up and ask him to get Bruce out of the timestream right this second, that the body was just a clone of Bruce. Darkseid couldn't grab Bruce, but he gives Tim some aid (and many many apology gifts).

Tim gets revenge, but it helps them to move past Darkseid hurting Tim's son.

Anita, Tim, Darkseid, and Ma Kent all have lunches once every six months to chat about parenting. No one, not even Clark, knows about these lunches besides those involved and YJ.

Because Darkseid and Tim are friends, Tim may even provide him assistance here and there.

I love fics where the Bats find out some crazy shit that Tim gets up to and I'd love to see their reaction to this

#dc comics #tim drake #dc universe #dc au #thank you for the ask!!!! #darkseid

[the-xolotl]

What I think your Hazbin Hotel fav says about you

Pt. I ; Charlie, Vaggie, Alastor, Lucifer, Angel

A/N: these are entirely my opinions based on what each of the characters have meant for me. i’m a psych major and like doing lil analysis of things so it’s for funsis nothing else XD and i’m writing these with adult personalities in mind ! just fyi

it’s kinda long, fair warning, lots of text.

—• TAGS: none, completely sfw

ᯓ፥Charlie ꪆ

Starting off with the MC herself; I can see her being a fav bc you are the sunshine coded individual that likes to do things diplomatically first, handles situations with words first and foremost as well as enthusiasm and optimism. You’ll always see the bright side of things and like to see the good in people.

So probably relate a lot to her.

You have a tendency to put others way above yourself and your own needs, most of the time unconsciously so.

Maybe you’re the mom-friend of the group. You’re the most caring and giving out of your surrounding friends or family.

Which kinda makes me think you may have a mix of daddy and mommy issues.

However sometimes your kindness is taken for weakness and naivety when that couldn’t be further from the truth. You’re not unaware of the world around you, in fact you’re probably someone who understands a little too good, so you choose to give positivity to the sea of negativity.

You’re highly emotionally intelligent, mature and likely find yourself always taking the reign in things. You’re a doer, determined to see everything you put your mind to to completion, lots of initiative in many aspects.

A WORKAHOLIC. Completely unaware of that aspect tho. Or just unintentionally so. Bc you are so determine on projects you give 120% and don’t stop until it’s completed.

You probably find comfort in her character in some ways; either bc you see yourself in her or strive to find a person like her who will see your redeeming qualities when you can’t, and want to help you grow as a person.

You aren’t a strict planner or someone who sticks 100% with a plan but do like to have an outline at least. Even if you have to improv further down the line at least you have an idea of wtf you’re doing.

So you can also roll with being spontaneous, you can easily think of a loose path to follow and roll with it whenever.

You’re very enjoyable company !! Smile and laugh is contagious, it’s impossible to not feel good around you.

ᯓ፥Vaggie ꪆ

You struggle a lot with imposter’s syndrome so let me be the one to tell you; you deserve good things, you belong in good places and with the people you love and love you back.

You’re likely the person everyone turns to for a voice of reason.

Ms./Mr./Mx. Hyper-Independent™️

You’re very headstrong, you’re the decision maker in whatever circle you run.

You’re likely also the mediator. Are you the middle child in your family?

You’re a perfectionist to a fault, and fear failure. Sometimes you need a little reassurance.

However, you’re an exceptional lover. You’re loyal, attentive, your love language might be acts of service and/or words of affirmation.

You greatly value those around you and just want to help them be successful.

Sometimes you’re too strict with yourself, even with others but you mean well.

Despite anything though, you have a pretty firm grasp in your sense of self, you know who you are and what you want in life.

You stand up for yourself, you don’t let anyone push you around; you’re the scary dog privileges.

And even if you sometimes come across as hard around the edges, you’re quite soft on the inside. You still choose to act with kindness even if someone doesn’t deserve it. But you’re good at killing with kindness.

You give me Taurus energy. And despite the bullet-point above you have made grown men cry. You’re kind but you are capable to hurting with your words if you so choose.

ᯓ፥Alastor ꪆ

I’ll just get it out of the way: raging daddy issues

But the kind of daddy issues that come from resentment and anger at a fatherly figure or men that remind you of that fatherly figure.

You neither want fatherly comfort nor find someone that is a good fatherly figure. You don’t need it, you’ve been this long without it so what’s the point ?

Maybe you’re likely even the type of person who comforts others but don’t want/let others comfort you. You don’t need others, others need you.

You value your privacy, very reserved about your personal life. Keeping everything close to the vest do to the load of trust issues you carry.

Definitely into older partners (more specifically older men)

Unless don’t you do dating or physical relationships. In this case you maybe find yourself being the older friend of a group of friends.

You don’t have a parental bone in your body but you have this innate need to make sure others never feel the way you did; alone, helpless. This whether you admit it or not.

Much like our resident Radio Demon you have an appreciation for the entertainment and may take some sadistic pleasure in watching the people you don’t care for fail (especially those who have wrong you in the past).

But if not giving a fuck was an olympic sport you’d be a gold medalist. You are winning the 'idgaf war' every time, bc you don’t need to retaliate immediately when someone does do you wrong either, remaining unbothered knowing that person will do themselves in.

You like to play the long game in some situations, waiting for the right time to make a move.

You don’t have time for bullshit, time costs and yours comes at a high rate. You rather get to the point than run circles. And the biggest pet-peeve is getting lead on in any way just to ultimately waste your time and get nothing out it.

In most circumstances you don’t do anything without receiving a benefit from it unless it’s the people you truly care about. Everything has a price, a lot of things you do are for self fulfillment (Not in a negative way. You value yourself and know your worth)

You’re also a go-getter. Not waiting around for opportunities to just fall on your lap you go and make your own opportunities and open your own doors.

However one of your biggest flaws is overestimating yourself which ultimately leads you to feel like you failed at something when really you didn’t, you didn’t reach the intended goal even if the outcome was fine. Pride comes before the fall, for sure (And you’re trying to work on it. Kinda).

But you do have an issue with feeling like you’re absolutely invincible no matter what.

You have your own skeletons in the closet. Things you don’t like looking back on, decisions you regret to this day bc they shaped more of your life than you intended. But here you are persevering in one piece. If maybe a little jaded to the world around you, but in one piece. Good job.

ᯓ፥Lucifer ꪆ

You and Alastor fans are two sides of the same coin but with marked differences.

Daddy issues here too, but the ones who actually want a good fatherly figure. One you often find from a mentor or someone to give you affection and/or guidance.

You’re less likely to seek these out in romantic relationships as really what you want is to heal your inner child.

You heard More Than Anything, cried bc it’s beautiful song than cried harder wondering why couldn’t someone love you like that.

More than anything (ba-dum-tsss) you crave to be protected, you can do it yourself, you have been. But you’re tired. You want someone else to do it for a changed, see you for who you are and love you unconditionally.

I have the feeling you’re the oldest child of a broken home that had to be a 3rd parent at a young age to your even younger siblings and it hurt like a bitch having to leave them once you were able to get out of your parent’s house. But you couldn’t stay there a second longer.

It’s also likely in your upbringing you were seen as the black sheep of the family, whatever the reason may have been. That’s something that still hurts to this day even through the no-contact you’ve likely established.

You have a lot of love to give but often don’t know how to express it or measure it. In the sense that you love too hard or too little, but you care so much. You really do.

And this is why you probably have a lot of people coming to your for a shoulder to cry on, because what you will do is protect the ones you care about the way you wish someone did you in your worse times. This is where your over abundance of love comes the most handy.

BUT behind all of this there’s also a high spirit that can be the life of any party. You have a unique magnetism and easy going personality despite anything that makes people gravitate towards you.

ᯓ፥Angel ꪆ

You have likely been through some awful shit (I’m sorry you had to go through that, me too 🫂) and that has shaped you a lot as a person today.

Probably came out of those experiences a hyper sexual that has to constantly advocate for those of us who don’t cope the same ways others do.

Angel is like a breath of fresh air because for once you get to see a representative whose bad experiences aren’t romanticized or glamorized.

The level at which you relate to him when he yelled “It’s not an act! It’s who I need to be!” was spiritual and it left you a little broken bc you likely use your persona as a shield bc if you don’t laugh you’ll cry

You don’t like letting your past define you but the line between who you are and who’s the persona built for the public keeps thinning more and more.

The trust issues you carry are so deep sometimes you accidentally push people you care about and who care about you away.

Because you do care, so much but it’s hard to let people in not knowing who’s truly going to treat you well.

Sometimes the only was you let in are the ones who go above and beyond to climb the tall thick walls you’ve put around yourself.

But life has made you strong, resilient. You know how to defend yourself and you take no shit from anyone.

You either want Angel’s rambunctious confidence or you have it and know how to work it. (work it 💅)

Don’t forget you’re more than what you can offer people. There’s genuine value in you as the person you are, not for what you can offer.

a/n: thank you for reading. i’ll probably take a while to upload the next parts tbh !

—

© 2024 the-xolotl — all rights reserved. do NOT alter, translate, or repost my works on any platform without my consent, do not claim my content as yours.

#hazbin hotel #lucifer hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin hotel #charlie hazbin hotel #vaggie hazbin hotel #angel dust hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel lucifer morningstar #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fandom #fanfic #charlie morningstar hazbin #charlie hazbin #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel vaggie #vaggie #angel dust #angel hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel characters #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin lucifer #hazbin charlie #hazbin vaggie #hazbin angel dust #hazbin hotel fandom

[clonerightsagenda]

Could you please recommend some sources or would you be able to give a summary on how swordfighting would work in spacesuits? I'm doing book research, am trying to figure out how it would differ and ended up browsing your space tags for facts.

Ok, first of all, I absolutely love that people are coming to me for weird space scenarios now. That being said, I don't know anything about swordfighting. So I will give you some thoughts from the space perspective, and perhaps some people with swordplay experience can chime in.

First of all, what's important to remember is that spacesuits are pressurized. They're not as pressurized as shuttles and stations, which means you have to breathe pure O2 or sit in a less pressurized airlock for a while so you don't get the bends on your spacewalk, but they're still somewhat pressurized. That makes it very hard to bend the joints. Spacewalking is a workout - many astronauts take Ibuprofen beforehand. It also wrecks your hands and nails - one astronaut even removed their nails before they could fall off. Finger dexterity goes way down. Your range of motion is limited, as is your field of vision - you've got your helmet visor, but good luck turning your head over your shoulder. It's also quite easy to overheat, and if you build up sweat and condensation in your visor, there's no way to clear it off.

Overall, I'll be honest - I struggle to see people successfully swordfighting in modern spacesuits. Visibility is bad. They're too stiff and clumsy. You'd lose your grip on the sword and it would go spinning into the void, and possibly you rip off some fingernails at the same time.

But fear not! Something that's been in the works for a while is what MIT calls the Biosuit. The idea here is a skintight compression garment that provides the same pressure as a traditional spacesuit but with less bulk and more mobility. It even looks a bit like fencing gear! If you're writing a book where space swordfighting is a thing, I'd say go with a spacefuture where they have suits like this. Preferably made out of fabric that's very resistant to slashing and stabbing. Even so, given the dangers of a suit rupture or getting knocked into the void, I'd think getting into a fight outside a ship or station would be an act of last resort.

Inside a pressurized station or vessel where you're not going to drop your sword and never see it again, blades make a lot more sense - you don't want to hit a gas line or ignite the atmosphere! Your biggest concern at that point would be the laws of motion. If you hit someone with force, you might go flying backward. I imagine that would change the kind of blocks and strikes you use, but again, I know nothing about swordplay. An entirely new school of zero G swordfighting might develop? There's some room to play around!

#terrible space facts

[television-overload]

of our own making

(an X-Files fanfic)

Chapter 7/34 - pocket bow tie

[Read on AO3]

She looks excited. At least, he thinks she does.

The good news is, she doesn't look like she's about to bolt out the door, and he calls that a win.

They may not be committing themselves to each other in the way a marriage is typically supposed to go, but this is a big commitment all the same. If she changes her mind now, their plans for adoption are as good as gone. The idea of family, as foreign as it has been for the last 26 years of his life.

He’ll admit he’s gotten rather attached to the idea. Perhaps a little too much so, considering how unique their situation is, and how often they've been dealt blow after blow of disappointment.

He looks down at the woman to his left. Any worries he might have had melt away at the sight of her. She's calm, her lips quirked up in a quiet, content smile as they wait to be called into the courtroom. Her shoulder brushes against his arm, and he resists the temptation to touch her, to hold her hand in his, knowing he will have his chance later.

"You look beautiful, by the way," he says, having held on to that one all morning. She smiles up at him, looking every bit the blushing bride she is, despite the absence of the big white dress and veil.

"I think Bill was intimidated by how nicely you were dressed," she teases back.

He looks down at his fine-cut suit. "What, this old thing?"

Scully has never been the kind to care how expensive one's clothes were, but even she has to admit that he looks good in Armani. And judging by his smirk, he knows it too.

"Did you have that bow tie stuffed in your pocket all morning, Mulder?" she asks, reaching up to straighten it.

"Had to look nice for our special day," he answers cheesily. "Plus, you told me to ditch the colorful ties. Figured I'd get a head start on the whole 'happy wife, happy life' thing."

Wife. Husband. Those words sound so foreign, and yet, in just a few moments time, they will apply to them.

'Excuse me, table for me and my wife, please.'

'Yes, I'm her husband. That's me.'

The insanity of it all makes him want to laugh.

"Fox Mulder and Dana Scully?" a clerk asks, popping her head out of the courtroom door.

He feels Scully's hand grasp for his, and a thrill runs up his spine. "That's us," she says, stepping forward. He gives her hand a squeeze, following after her like a lost puppy.

Here we go.

Once they’re inside, the judge gestures for them to approach the bench, and they stand side-by-side in the center of the chamber. The dark oak wood is daunting, bringing back memories of not particularly enjoyable times they’ve been in courtrooms.

This time is different, though. The judge is smiling, for one, looking down her thin, half-moon spectacles at them. And, for once, their time in court will serve to unite them, rather than split them apart.

Yes, this would be a very nice change, indeed.

“What a beautiful couple you make,” the older woman speaks, her eyes crinkling in joy. Scully smiles, and Mulder clings a little tighter to her hand. “Are we ready to get started?”

They nod, and Mulder has to focus to keep his knees steady under him. They’re really doing this. He can hardly believe it has come to this point.

“We are gathered here to join Fox and Dana in the blessed union of marriage,” the judge starts, reciting her opening statement to the mostly empty room. One clerk stands by as their witness, a camera in hand to capture their memories of the day, probably with the intent to sell them back to them at an exorbitant price. 

It doesn’t matter. Mulder will pay it anyway, whatever the cost.

“This is not a responsibility to be taken lightly,” she continues. “A marriage ought to be founded on mutual respect, affection, and a desire to see through any challenges that may come your way. If you speak your vows in truth, this union will strengthen your bond, serving as a constant reminder of your unwavering love for one another.”

Mulder swallows, holding fast to the comfortable weight of Scully’s hand in his. The judge’s words only reinforce his belief that this is the right decision, that this is meant to be. Mutual respect, affection, going through life’s challenges… how else would he describe what he and Scully have? What they’ve had for over half a decade?

Unwavering love . He’s got that in spades. He feels it from her too, that fierce loyalty. “Love…” Well, he’d like to think so. At least some form of it.

“Fox,” the judge speaks, calling him to attention. He fumbles for Scully’s other hand, the way he remembers seeing at a friend’s wedding once in Oxford. “Will you take Dana to be your lawfully wedded wife? To love her, comfort her, honor her, and keep her, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?”

Easiest yes in the entire world.

Green eyes meet blue.

“I will,” he says.

“And Dana,” he feels his throat close, choking back a sudden rise of emotion. “Will you take Fox to be your lawfully wedded husband? To love him, comfort him, honor him, and keep him, forsaking all others, so long as you both shall live?”

It’s the ‘forsaking all others’ part he feels like Scully shouldn’t be agreeing to, but they’ve talked this over. He still can’t quite believe she picked him. Him! Out of any man she could have.

“I will,” she answers, squeezing his hands once. He nods, and feels—not for the first time—that she’d known exactly what was going through his head. They certainly are spooky like that, sometimes.

“Excellent,” the judge praises. “Now, do you have your own vows, or—”

“The standard is fine,” Scully says, smiling up at Mulder.

“Standard it is,” she says. “Fox, repeat after me. I, Fox, take you Dana.”

“I, Fox, take you, Dana.” He leans in close and adds, for her ears only, “Scully,” with a conspiratorial smile, whispering the name he gave her that first day they met. It’s the only one that feels right coming from his lips, and he needs her to know that this isn’t just for show. This isn’t ‘Fox’ making promises to ‘Dana.’ This is them—Mulder and Scully. It’s real. As real as anything she can prove with her beloved science. 

The judge, oblivious to his unprompted addition, continues. “To be my wife,” she says.

“To be my wife.”

His. He would have a wife, and it would be Scully. His Scully. He runs his thumb over her knuckles in circular strokes, swallowing back emotion. She shudders under the intensity of his gaze.

“To have and to hold, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, to love and to cherish, from this day forward.”

It feels good to speak these promises aloud. For so long, he’s taken and taken and taken from her, watched her life and her dreams be stolen from her grasp, powerless to stop it. Now he can finally give, starting here and now, with his solemn vow to be there for her in every way the judge described. He hopes she can see the truth in his eyes. How much he means these words, from the bottom of his heart.

Judging by the way her eyes glisten, he’s coming across loud and clear.

Then, it’s her turn, and she looks up at him through fluttering eyelashes. “I, Dana,” she says, smiling coyly in preparation for what they both know comes next. “Take you, Fox.” His name is spoken with a teasing lilt, and it sounds just as unnatural as it always does coming from her mouth. He breathes a laugh, jostling her hands playfully between them. “Mulder,” she whispers, just as he had, and his heart melts. “To be my husband.”

The rest of her vows follow, equal to his, just as they are equal in all things. The weight of what they are promising lands squarely on their shoulders, at once harrowing and freeing. Mulder can hardly believe the ceremony is almost over.

“Now, do you have rings to exchange?”

Scully goes to answer that, no, they don’t, but movement from Mulder stalls her. He fishes something from his pocket, facing her with a shy smile.

“Merry Christmas, Scully,” he says, dropping a plain silver band in the palm of her hand. She sees his fist clenched around what must be her ring, and tilts her head in fond exasperation, a silent whine of ‘Mulder…’ that he looks forward to hearing every time they exchange gifts. 

The judge waxes poetic (as poetic as city hall can get) about the meaning of rings, their significance in a marriage, symbolism—but Mulder and Scully are barely listening. All they hear is her instruction to place the band on each other’s left ring finger, which they happily do, taking their time to slide it into place. The weight feels heavy, but right, on Mulder’s hand, and Scully’s… Scully’s sparkles just like he’d imagined it would when he picked it out at the jewelry shop.

They won’t be able to wear them in public most of the time—he’d known that from the start—but for now, in this room where everyone is privy to the legal bonds being established between them, they are free to do whatever they wish. 

“Well then,” the judge speaks up, beaming from ear to ear. “Having consented to enter into this union and pledged your vows to each other, by the authority vested in me by the State of Maryland and the circuit courts of Anne Arundel County, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” She reaches up and takes off her glasses, setting them down in front of her. “Mr. Mulder, you may kiss your bride.”

Blood rushes to his ears, and for a second all he can hear is the pounding of his heart.

Somehow, in all the weeks they’ve been planning this, he’d never considered this particular part of the ceremony. A startling oversight, considering how thorough he’d been with everything else.

Scully is looking up at him, the only sign of her own internal turmoil being the way she bites her lip and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. He wants to kiss her, oh, does he want to kiss her. But this is where the line between real and fake goes gray. 

‘Is this okay?’ he asks with his eyes, his hands suddenly sweating a fair bit more than they had been before. He gets an almost imperceptible nod in return, and makes up his mind.

It’s chaste, the way his lips first meet hers. His hands land on that place on her back that she thinks of as belonging to him, and he dips down to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth. She turns and catches him with her lips, her hand coming up to lay flat against his chest. It barely lasts more than a few seconds, but it leaves him feeling dizzy nonetheless, breathless. He smiles a lopsided grin.

Of all the ways he imagined their first kiss going, in front of two complete strangers at their wedding was not one of them. 

The air feels awkward when they pull back, not quite able to meet each other’s eyes, but the silence is quickly filled with congratulatory remarks from both the judge and their witness. In an act of boldness, he captures her hand again as they are ushered out of the room, holding tightly to it. As he predicted, their witness-slash-photographer takes Mulder’s money, promising that the prints from their ceremony will be delivered to his address in a month’s time, and he thanks her.

Step one is complete. They have officially started the process that would have them labeled the craziest agents in the FBI.

For once, he doesn’t really mind being the crazy one.

~~~

Lovely tag list ♡: [if you would like to be added or removed, let me know!]

@today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr @agent-troi @angegova @baronessblixen @calimanc @captainsolocide @clo-thespin @cutemothman @danasculls @deathsbestgirl @edierone @enigmaticxbee @figureofdismay @frogsmulder @hippocampouts @invidiosa @monaiargancoconutsoy @numinousmysteries @primrose19 @randomfoggytiger @skelavender @skylarksong @slippinmickeys @stephy-gold @teenie-xf @the-redhead-in-a-dress @vincentsleftear @whovianderson

#msr #txf #x files #xf fanfic #mulder and scully #my fanfiction #fox mulder #dana scully #of our own making #ooom #msr adoption fic #adoption #hope i did this one justice #more to come

[revscarecrow]

Translation of post:

I was bullshitting when I said I knew what the charity streams were this year. I thought that since one was done for Ukraine, one would possibly for done for Palestine or Israel (I don’t support Israel, I’m just insinuating your friends would). Everyone would most likely have a bad take, because they aren’t as political as you, possibly even being zionists. The pediatric cancer research fund and the Palestine children’s relief fund have the same acronym. Therefore, if they announced the charity stream for the cancer fund with the acronym, everyone would assume it would be for Palestine. I want you to stop being friends with the vinesauce circle, because they probably don’t have very good politics. The only other vinesauce related person to have ever done anything with Palestine stuff (to my knowledge) was Gpm, and that time it was apparently an accident. I’m not expecting a charity stream for Palestine, nor am I expecting any of them to speak about it, because I feel like they would all have bad takes. You do not need to tell them to do anything. But I generally feel like you shouldn’t be friends with any of them, because I feel they’re not leftist enough. Besides, from what I remember, Joel set up the Ukraine thing (I might be extremely wrong) and since he is from europe, he probably did it because he felt threatened by russia.

tldr: I think your friends are probably zionists. Tbh, until they show otherwise, I believe that most content creators/Jewish people are.

Alright I gave this another go this morning and I'll give you a hot tip. This shit does make more sense when sober. Evil until proven otherwise is an wild purity test. Assuming all Jewish people support Isreal is also a hell of a take. Not being friends with people because they don't do thier job just like me is also a fucked up take. It's a really really bad move financially to talk the way I do. 1. Because gamers are only political when it regards titty censorship or the occasional shitty boycott (until the next big announcement happens). 2. It also pisses people off who agree with me because they might know I'm right and have been dealing with it and fighting the good fight and now when they come home to relax I'm also talking about it as well. Sometimes people just want to turn off their brains and for good reason. Activist burn out is real. So this thing I do is a really bad idea in general but I'm the type of person who can't shut up so I do it anyway. That doesn't mean that everyone has the same view point on how to do this streaming YouTube thing. It just means that's how I do it. Watch who you want for whatever reason you want but don't tell me who to be friends with or how to do my job and expect me to follow your directives.

[whooiew]

Hi! I'm very curious about what is the basis of the Kafsant ship? Just cause cute?

Hello! I actually have a full script for this one question!

I'll separate them into different bits depending on how interested you are in learning more

They both came from a pretty fucked up past Kafka needing to fight tooth and nail to survive on the Columbian streets Snowsant with POVERTY and RACISM They both also have a fondness for braids Kafka is all street smarts and 0 books smarts While Snowsant is all books smarts (a literaly prodigy engineer) and 0 street smarts (extremely obvious in her operator records) Snowsant is anxious and worries a lot about the future (not anymore since So Long Adele, she has more self confidence now, we love to see it) Kafka is more of a living in the moment kinda girl And most importantly, the part that slam jams this ship together in the first place Snowsant is a place of comfort and reliability that the operators can rely on She's extremely genuine and pure of heart Kafka desperately needs a place of comfort and reliability in her life, and is magnitized to people who she sees as genuine, cause she just, wants someone that she can trust

And from here we'll be going into the DETAILS (1257 words ahead, might get sexual towards the end)

Kafka has absolutely no idea what love is like, in fact she's completely avoiding it most of the time due to her past but due to the nurture and nature dillema of Kafka

She actually greatly yearns for any sort of connection, as shown in her operator records featuring Silence Her Module featuring Silence Her Operator files featuring Rhodes Island treating them extremely well, as shown in Pinecone's Operator Records and Kafka's Files where she takes cares of the children and actively makes gifts for the Mansfield crew Snowsant on the other hand we don't really have any idea how she's like in terms of the concept of love, but if the liberi trend is anything to go by she'll be pretty intimate with it, making Kafka the one outlier whom's actively avoiding it

And I have a concept on how they've met actually

In case you didn't know, Kafka's basically Arknight's version of Robin Hood, she runs around stealing and stabbing people on the streets of Columbia but she still has a heart of gold and really only shanks those that deserves it, if they don't she'll just steal it, and she also looks out for her fellow hobos despite everything

IN Kafka's operator records, towards the end it was shown that Silence has met Kafka before actually

Back when Kafka stole Silence's breakfast and passes it along to a homeless child before running off, she also paid Silence of course, leaving her with a single coin (we'll come back to the coin part in a bit for brain rot) Now how does this tie to Snowsant you may wonder Snowsant's a Lungmen character isn't she? She's from Lungmen, how would she have met a Columbian WELL MY DEAR READER SNOWSANT'S BEEN TO COLUMBIA BEFORE!

Using her painfully saved up money and her winnings at Lungmen's Invention Competition, she moved to Columbia to further her studies to be the most EPIC ENGINEER EVER

But life for our little Snowsant isn't that good in Columbia

Being a Lungman Citizen she got hit with a good dose of RACISM, her social standing doesn't help either, causing her to not be treated that kindly throughout her stay there

If you've read So Long Adele, you should know that Snowsant cried herself to sleep over the prices of writing letters there

She was not well off in Columbia at all Now she actually made something FUCKING AMAZING, ABSOLUTELY REVOLUTIONARY, but due to her ZERO STREET SMARTS, she didn't copyright it, it got stolen, and the thieves made BANK with HER CREATION, ASSHOLES

Least to say poor Snowsant was fucking dying at this point

Now that's when our favorite corvid comes along, KAFKA, OUR ROBIN HOOD, she descends from the heavens to provide food and stuff whenever she can to Snowsant cause Snowsant's her fellow hobo at this point basically And of course eventually Snowsant goes back to Lungmen and stuff yadda yadda BUT EVENTUALLY, Snowsant and Kafka met back up on Rhodes again

Snowsant's of course very thankful and stuff, and from there on they sorta just hang out more cause Kafka's like, omg a fellow street kid YOOOOOO

So Kafka pays more attention in terms of taking care of Snowsant, which causes Snowsant to think Kafka might have feelings for her, after a bit eventually Snowsant drags her on a date and something something, oh hey maybe Kafka likes her too and she'll have to be forced to confront to the idea of it causing her to explode into a mess of feathers

As a result who knows Snowsant might think she did something wrong due to how she is as a a character and now its a MESS OH NO, eventually Kafka will have to get through to her feelings and confront it and YIPPEE YURI Apart from that I just think they'd be really cute with each other, they bounce off each other's flaws really well, like, Kafka's infinite confidence and gusto countering Snowsant's sheer lack of it

And Snowsant just being a general safe zone for Kafka to let her guard down around, because Snowsant's never really hiding anything, she's always genuine

Which is something Kafka really likes. ALSO THEY HAVE THE SAME LIBERI TRAIT OF SIDE HAIR FEATHERS And that's pretty much the basics

So now that we've gone over express details on how Snowsant and Kafka are like as characters I'ma explain a bit more about them Snowsant is a pure of heart girl, your average goodie two shoes, she's a prodigy genius, she has an insane amount of mental endurance, being able to go through failure after failure but despite it all still being able to keep her head up high and continue moving forward

She cares for her family greatly, family is extremely important to her in fact, hell a good amount of her paycheck gets sent back to her family even

But all of that comes with a price, she's still slightly anxious about things, doesn't really take care of herself, and has a nasty habit of, zoning in too much (this will be discussed further later)

Kafka on the other hand, on the surface may seem like an annoying piece of shit, but once you get to know her she actually has a heart of gold, becoming Rhodes Island's invisible guardian angle in a sense, looking out for her fellow operators whenever wherever

She also has a fondness for kids as she visits them often and even makes gifts for them

Speaking of gift making, Kafka is an avid tinkerer and arts and crafts nerd

And of course can't forget, harboring of PLANT AUTISM

But yeah, she cares for people greatly, especially ones that's close to her

Be it anyone from the Mansfield Crew Silence Ifrit (implied) You the Doctor She's the peak of Liberi, with how Liberi characters are usually very caring about their relationships, be it their S/O or their friends and family, they care greatly for them Fitting for Kafka because she's a Jackdaw! Jackdaws immensely loyal to their partners and will pretty much never leave one once they find one all that aside, I just think these 2 would be really sweet and they'd just be happy to have someone that they can lean on especially Kafka

(This is where the sexual parts are: )

There's also the side to Snowsant where she actually surprisingly dominant

Which unironically fits how White Eared Pheasants are like

I've always made Snowsant the more assertive one, and more recent Snowsant content supports that fact

There's some parts to Snowsant, small parts, but pieced together it shows a bigger picture and I'd say Snowsant does have a dominant side to her but she keeps it in check It'll only really come out when she's in the mood and zone for it, specifically when she starts zoning stuff out again Like damn yeah she'd definitely tie Kafka up and whisper sensually into her ears while teasing her

The whole zoning out thing I've explored a bit more when writing a specific short fic but it was shown officially in her operator records where Snowsant completely zoned out everything around her when she got caught thinking about how to pay for her book publishing fee, completely zoning out the fact that Closure was telling her that Doc and Closure already paid for it

Which fits into white eared pheasants being usually pretty reserved when it comes to the act of sex until a switch flips on and they go into a breeding frenzy

Also Snowsant's fucking RICH NOW BABY YEAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

#arknights #kafka arknights #snowsant arknights #kafsant #A LOT OF TEXT #AND A LOT OF BRAIN ROT

[yukidragon]

Okay so I'm trying really hard to get into SWWSDJ but there's so much lore not e en in the games I feel very much in over my head lol. Can you like...give a rundown? Or at least point me in the direction of where to start? I wanna write fic about the clown man damn it lol

I understand what you mean. When you fist enter into a fandom it can be pretty daunting, especially if you don't get a lot of the references and information that the bulk of the fandom takes as common knowledge.

A lot of the information we have about the lore for SWWSDJ comes from the various demos and teasers. However, the lore is being updated as the game is in development, as evidenced by the differences in each of the demos. Things have changed since its initial demo release, and will likely continue to change until the full game is released. SWWSDJ is very much a work in progress.

The most obvious place to start of course is the latest demo. You can check out a public release of it on the SnaccPop Studios Patreon over here.

There's a release that came after this one with a bit more content, but you'll have to become a member if you want to see it for yourself. Personally I think it's worth it for all the goodies that are regularly released on the patreon. If you've signed up, I highly recommend checking it out.

After that, I think it's good to look at the official webpages for SWWSDJ, including the official tumblr over on @sunny-day-jack-official. The tumblr page answers quite a number of questions from the fans, as well as some teasers. They've even made a listing of most of the other official webpages in this post here.

Another page that teases some juicy lore is the official profiles over on Toyhouse. Want to know the canon heights of the love interests and their birthdays? This is the place to get that info.

The official twitter page has been a place to pick up bits of lore since the beginning. There's plenty of teasers, profiles, and it gives a good sense of how things have evolved during development.

There are some teasers that are floating around posted by the original creator and others working on the project, but the rule of thumb is to take these with a pinch of salt. They're very good to inspire ideas and lore crafting, but if it's not on an official page like the twitter, tumblr, patreon, etc. then it's technically not canon.

Speaking of technically not canon, if you're interested in seeing my deep dives into my theories about the lore, AU crafting, and just gushing about the series in general, feel free to check out my rambles. I've done a lot of thinking about this series, and my opinions keep evolving as new developments release. I've also done quite a lot of writing as well.

I hope this can be helpful to get you started, and that you enjoy your time in this fandom. If you have more specific questions, feel free to toss them into my inbox. I might take a while to answer, but I appreciate every ask sent my way. I look forward to seeing your stories, as well as the stories of everyone else in this lovely fandom.💖

@channydraws @earthgirlaesthetic @sai-of-the-7-stars @cheriihoney @illary-kore @okamiliqueur @kurokrisps

#Sunny Day Jack #Something's Wrong With Sunny Day Jack #SunnyDayJack #sdj #swwsdj #Headcanon Ramblings

[soupthatistohot]

BSD: An Absurdist Analysis - Ch. 114.5

Fyodor: The Unkillable Devil

[BSD Absurdism Masterpost]

So, I was mostly correct in my speculations from last month's chapter! I'm really proud of this, though I will admit that my theory wasn't a complete match to what ended up happening

I assumed that Fyodor took on the guard's lifeforce, but it was Bram who he body-swapped with, which makes for a much for interesting (and higher stakes) situation.

Admittedly, this post is going to be a bit less analysis and more me sharing my thoughts and questions, because not much has changed from what I said last month: Fyodor being practically unkillable is the ultimate absurdity for him as a villain -- how do you defeat a literally immortal super genius?

It's just made even worse now by the fact that it is Bram's body who he's "subsuming." It puts considerable distance between himself (now in Japan) and Dazai (in France), who is the only human being capable of killing him due to his nullification. This is deeply ironic in that Dazai was so goddamn close to killing Fyodor, if only he had delivered the final blow himself, he would have succeeded. That's dramatic irony for ya!

The ultimate absurdity lies within the fact that Dazai was so close to victory the entire time; Fyodor was in genuine danger throughout the whole prison break thing (because either poison or Dazai could have actually killed him), but one lapse in judgement has now left Dazai relatively powerless.

There is also absurdity in the fact that Fukuawa, Fukuchi, Aya, and Teruko are basically incapable of stopping Fyodor not only from subsuming Bram's body, but from carrying out his plan with the tripolar singularity. They don't even have enough time to enact a last-ditch effort to stop him before he stabs Fukuchi.

Jumping back to the reveal of Fyodor's ability, this chapter has left me with some questions about Fyodor's plan:

Why allow Sigma to learn of this? I see no really good reason for why Fyodor didn't kill Sigma when given the chance. The only thing I can think of is that he wanted to distract Dazai, ultimately knowing that he would eventually go back for Sigma and try to figure out why he was passed out, killing some time. Still, this doesn't really make much sense to me, as killing Sigma would have done practically the same thing. Also, at that point, there's really no reason to distract Dazai, the deed has already been done. My only other idea is that he figured that once he was able to subsume Bram, it wouldn't matter if Dazai knew about his ability, so he allowed Sigma to obtain this information in order to let Dazai know of his loss. Still, this doesn't make any strategic sense in the way that keeping Dazai in the dark for as long as possible appears to be the optimal course of action.

Does Nikolai know about Fyodor's ability? If so, it would explain the usage of the poison in the prison break challenge, given that his ultimate goal is to kill Fyodor. It might also explain why he considers them to be "besties," because he's one of very few people who know the true nature of Fyodor's ability. This is complete speculation, though, as it could really go either way.

Did Fyodor know Chuuya was faking it the whole time? Because if not, I think Chuuya was his fallback plan. If he truly believed Chuuya to be a vampire controlled by Bram, then at any point he could have ordered him to kill him, but I think the only thing that stopped him from doing so was his desperation to have Dazai killed as the only person capable of actually taking his life. If he did indeed know Chuuya was just acting, though, I wonder if he had just thought far enough ahead to know how things would go and needed Chuuya to be present to get to that conclusion. I'm really curious as to how much of this plan was actual foresight and how much was improvisation.

As for the tripolar singularity... well I think we know where that leads, given that the anime gave us a little preview to future events.

I'll admit that the concept of the singularity is one of the things I least understand about the BSD lore/universe, but this certainly raises the stakes. I might be wrong about this, but aren't there theories that somehow Akutagawa and Atsushi's abilities combined are able to supersede singularities? In this way, they'd be the only hope against Tripolar Singularity Fukuchi (which I've got to assume works much like Arahabaki in that Fukuchi is not in control anymore).

We also now can now assume that Akutagawa (and assumedly anyone else who was turned into a vampire) becomes un-vampirified because Bram ceases to exist when Fyodor takes on his body, so this explains how we get to the above situation.

That's all I got for now! Please feel free to add to my analysis and discuss the questions I've asked, I love talking about this stuff with y'all! :)

Edit: Ok so of course almost immediately upon posting this I thought of more things to add in terms of how this all relates to absurdism. The concept of Fyodor being unable to die is not only absurd from the storytelling perspective of him being BSD's ultimate villain for so long, but also on a personal level for himself.

One of humanity's defining qualities is mortality -- the idea that we all die eventually, whether we like it or not. For Fyodor, this isn't true, though. His ability is a curse that traps him into living so long as people try to kill him. This further explains his ultimate motive of wanting to eliminate all abilities, probably because he recognizes many abilities to be curses and also that abilities have potential to be abused by those in power, whether for "right" or "wrong" reasons.

The irony in this is that Fyodor is doing just that, he has used his ability to remain alive far longer than he should have, and is thus able to carry out his plans. Yes, he believes what he is doing is for the good of humanity, but as the reader, we also know that this is not his decision to make. He has become the very thing he's trying to fight! This can be seen as Fyodor giving into the absurdity of reality, rather than actually rebelling against it, which makes him the antagonist to our absurdist protagonists, who refuse to give in and continue to push back against life's absurdities.

Fyodor's problem (and I think I talked about this in the chapter where he "died") is that he wants to control the absurd reality, but that is just not possible. You can't control meaninglessness, all you can do is not become a part of it, which Fyodor fails to do in his effort to not do so. It's a complete paradox.

Hopefully what I'm saying here makes sense, I am currently running on like five hours of sleep (which not a lot for me) and black tea lol

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd manga #bsd manga spoilers #bsd 114.5 #fyodor dostoevsky #sigma bsd #dazai osamu #fukuchi ouchi #fukuzawa yukichi #chuuya nakahara #bsd absurdism analysis #soup rants

[thealogie]

Thea have you seen Good yet? I feel devastated after watching it. I already live in a chronic state of political depression as I come from a country where dissidents all go to prison and disappear, and it's practically illegal for me to even browse this little website.

I know the play comes as a warning that we should never give away our consciences and morality in face of evil ideology and extreme factions. But it's easier said than done. I saw the news of recent pro-Palestine student protests breaking out across the US. In my country, such things are totally unimaginable. You have no idea what it's like to live in a void of democracy and nomocracy while being a person who has yet to lose hope and aspire to make a change. I feel powerless and frightened and tired.

The timing of your ask is funny (not funny as in “haha” but funny as in “we’re all feeling it”). I’ve been thinking about this because I went to UCLA last night and watched these young people get shot at and beaten up by police for literally standing there. I feel both so dejected and hopeless for not being able to physically stop it and really so touched and hopeful at how many people showed up and how brave they were.

I grew up in Iran where people very much did disappear for being dissidents and while protests happened they were genuinely the most terrifying experience of my life. I went to exactly one. I genuinely thought I might die the whole time. I know a lot of places have it worse - not trying to say I know how it feels to live where you’re living but just saying I have some idea and it sucks. I’ve just been thinking about how the scene I saw last night is so similar to what you might see in an authoritarian country and yet I’m also grateful we still have a bare minimum of laws so that I’m not sitting here worried any of those people will never see their families again. You know?

There’s no point to that rant. Except to say I feel you, I’m sorry, I think there’s hope everywhere from the fact that people in Iran are risking death for the chance of living better lives to the fact that I saw kids last night who could very much be living their best life but chose to get beaten up to protest atrocities elsewhere.

All of this to say I don’t think I can watch the Nazi play without losing my mind at the moment.

[f4iry-bell]

Before I tell you about my request, I have to acknowledge that you are so FREAKING amazing at writing!!

Don't know if you've already done these before, but Jameson's POV of when he first met Avery, during the will reading, when he first snuck into Avery's room, and when Avery was leaving Will Blake's ranch in tfg. It's probably a lot, but I've been wanting to read about these for a while and I also know a good writer who is capable of doing that. Also, just know that I'm probably going to request you many more things to write about.

first of all I'm HONOURED. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR TRUSTING ME. second of all, i really hope this satisfy you and is enough 😭😭I'm no jlb, this is completely of what I think jameson would have thought from my understanding. if you think otherwise please do let me know. again, it's completely from my understanding of jamie's character. also sorry it took so long.

NOTE: all four parts are here. pretty long. some copy pasted dialogues!!!!!! hope you enjoy.

Jameson meeting Avery for the first time.

It was not easy for the Hawthornes, everyone grieved in their own way. But for some reason the grievance was put aside today by everyone, Jameson would like to say he has put it aside as well but the bottle in his hand and the obvious intoxication would say otherwise. It is not a good idea to get drunk during an important time like the reading of the will of the great Tobias Hawthorne, and it's definitely not a good idea to leave your family hanging while one sits at the edge of the balcony, only supported by the railing. But that's exactly what Jameson Hawthorne did.

His mind was all over the place looking for something, something that would give him the thrill more than sitting at the edge of the balcony, drunk. He might have been wrong, but there was a two out of ten chance that he may be right. He refused to look away from the brown haired girl who was standing in the backyard, completely mesmerised by the Hawthorne backyard. As she took in the view he took in her features and movements. He finally decided to interact in the only way he knew to find out what she is.

“If yes is no and once is never , then how many sides does a triangle have?” His words slurred but it got her attention. She looked up to him, bending her neck backwards.

“You’re going to fall.” She told him.

He smirked. “An interesting proposition.”

“That wasn’t a proposition,” She said.

He offered her a lazy grin. “There’s no shame in propositioning a Hawthorne.” Jameson’s smirk grew a bit wider when she noticed that he was shirtless.

“You must be Mystery Girl,” he said.

“I’m Avery,” She corrected.

She looked at him like anyone who knew what recently happened in the Hawthorne family would look at him, wondering why his face was anything but filled with grief. He wouldn't blame her for being a little judgemental. He is very good at grieving in his own way and an expert at hiding it.

“Whatever you say, M.G.,” he retorted. “Can I call you M.G., Mystery Girl?” He was trying to taunt her at this point.

She crossed her arms. “No.”

He brought his feet up to the railing and stood. He wobbled, he could see her thinking about something with worry and panic when he put one foot in front.

“Don't!” But he didn't listen to her. He twisted and grabbed the railing with his hands, holding himself vertical, feet in the air and dropped. He landed right next to her.

“You shouldn’t be out here, M.G.” He told her.

“Neither should you.” He can tell that her heart is beating fast. It was so obvious. Janeson’s heart was racing too, he told himself that it was because of the stunt he just pulled.

“If I do what I should no more often than I say what I shouldn’t”—his lips twisted—“then what does that make me?”

She sighed like she just realised who he is. She was taking in his features to make sure, especially his eyes, and his abs.

“What,” he repeated intently, “does that make me?”

“Drunk,” She said. Jameson was about to say something else, he was ready with a comeback but she added two more words. “And two.”

“What?” Jameson Hawthorne said.

“The answer to your first riddle,” She told him. “If yes is no and once is never , then the number of sides a triangle has… is… two .” She didn't explain her answer, she didn't have to.

“Touché, M.G.” Jameson ambled past her, brushing his bare arm lightly over mine as he did. “Touché.” He was impressed and intrigued.

Two out of ten, this time the odds were in his favour. And now that Jameson Hawthorne got the answer he wanted from this Mystery Girl, he has no plan to leave her alone. That moment he knew she was special. And his grandfather brought her here for a reason. He will find out why.

The Will Read

Jameson made his way to his wing and managed to find himself a shirt and suit jacket. He checked himself in the mirror once before heading to The Great Room. Once he was inside his eyes looked for a specific pair of brown eyes but he realised Avery hadn't arrived yet. He went further inside and stood with the rest of his family. Soon he watched Avery make her way inside and made eye contact with him. He immediately gave her a cheeky smile and a salute, he can also noticed Grayson stiffened at his action through the corner of his eyes.

Once the lawyers made sure everyone who is mentioned in the will was in the room they started. First, they handed an envelope to everyone in the family and to Avery as well. They were asked to open the letters after the will reading. Jameson is already curious about his letter and what the old man has to say to him and to Avery Grambs. His eyes were fixated on her envelope for a whole minute before focusing on the reading prudently.

“Mr. Hawthorne stipulated that all of the following individuals must be physically present for the reading of this will: Skye Hawthorne, Zara Hawthorne-Calligaris, Nash Hawthorne, Grayson Hawthorne, Jameson Hawthorne, Alexander Hawthorne, and Ms. Avery Kylie Grambs of New Castle, Connecticut.”

Everyone's eyes including a pair of green ones were on her. Avery Kylie Grambs.

“...To my daughters, Zara Hawthorne-Calligaris and Skye Hawthorne, I leave the funds necessary to pay off all debts accrued as of the date and time of my death.” Mr. Ortega paused before speaking, he looked directly at Zara and Skye then back to the will.

“Additionally, I leave to Skye my compass, may she always know true north, and to Zara, I leave my wedding ring, may she love as wholly and steadfastly as I loved her mother.” Another pause, more painful than the last.

“Go on.” That came from Zara’s husband.

“To each of my daughters,” Mr. Ortega read slowly, “beyond that already stated, I leave a one-time inheritance of fifty thousand dollars.”

Jameson wanted to smile but he knew better, just like how he knew that his mother and aunt won't be the one holding the old man's entire fortune. It's not a surprise, none of them should be surprised that the person who would be taking the fortune would be the heir apparent, his brother, Grayson Devenport Hawthorne.

There was a mini quarrel between Zara and Skye on how Jameson and his brothers became the old man's favourite, how Skye gave them to him so that her sons would have the inheritance.

“Now, if I may continue…” Mr. Ortega looked back down at the will in his hands. “To my grandsons, Nash Westbrook Hawthorne, Grayson Davenport Hawthorne, Jameson Winchester Hawthorne, and Alexander Blackwood Hawthorne, I leave…”

“Everything,” Zara muttered bitterly.

Mr. Ortega spoke over her. “Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars apiece, payable on their twenty-fifth birthdays, until such time to be managed by Alisa Ortega, trustee.”

Everyone heard Alisa’s audible shock. Unlike his brother Grayson who was utterly shocked and threw knives for the word ‘what’ Jameson Hawthorne thought that this is getting interesting.

The old man didn't leave everything to Grayson like everyone thought the old man would because of the way he was groomed. Or to Nash, or to Xander, or to me. There is only one person left in the will. There could be two things happening right here, and if his guess is right…

“The remainder of my estate,” Mr. Ortega read, “including all properties, monetary assets, and worldly possessions not otherwise specified, I leave to Avery Kylie Grambs.”

And it was indeed right, if you're smart you would have seen this coming right after they read that Tobias Hawthorne didn't leave his fortune to his daughters or his grandsons. The only blood related heirs. But now? A new heiress. Not blood related as far as he knows. She is not a random girl. He knew his grandfather too well to know that he wouldn't randomly write his entire fortune to a stranger. This is something. He doesn't know what she is yet. But he will find out.

Everyone's demeanour changed, especially Skye and Gray's. Not surprised. Even Avery’s, she is in utter shock, he can only say that much.

“...I assure you, there is no mistake.” Mr. Ortega met my gaze, then turned his attention to the others. “And I assure the rest of you, Tobias Hawthorne’s last will and testament is utterly unbreakable. Since the majority of the remaining details concern only Avery, we’ll cease with the dramatics. But let me make one thing very clear: Per the terms of the will, any heir who challenges Avery’s inheritance will forfeit their share of the estate entirely.”

“No will is that ironclad,” Constantine said, his voice acidic.

“Not when there’s this kind of money at stake.” “Spoken,” Nash Hawthorne interjected, “like someone who didn’t really know the old man.”

“Traps upon traps,” Jameson murmured. Trying to look into the old man's mind about this context. Trying to look into her mind. “And riddles upon riddles.” He looked right into Avery's eyes looking for something.

“I think you should leave,” Grayson told me curtly. An order. Typical Grayson.

“Technically…” Alisa Ortega sounded like she’d just swallowed arsenic. “It’s her house.”

“I don’t understand,” She said.

“My daughter is correct.” Mr. Ortega kept his tone neutral. “You own it all, Ms. Grambs. Not just the fortune, but all of Mr. Hawthorne’s properties, including Hawthorne House. Per the terms of your inheritance, which I will gladly go over with you, the current occupants have been granted tenancy unless—and until—they give you cause for removal.” He let those words hang in the air. “Under no circumstances,” he continued gravely, his words rife with warning, “can those tenants attempt to remove you.”

Oren stood between us and her.

“Oren!” Zara sounded shocked. “You work for this family.”

“I worked for Mr. Hawthorne.” John Oren paused and held up a piece of paper. It took me a moment to realise that it was his letter.

“It was his last request that I continue in the employment of Ms. Avery Kylie Grambs.” He glanced at her “Security. You’ll need it.”

“And not just to protect you from us!” Xander added to her left.

“Take a step back, please,” Oren ordered.

Xander held his hands up. “Peace,” he declared. “I make dire predictions in peace!”

“Xan’s right.” Jameson smiled, he knew it and he knew that he is not wrong about this. A random girl picked out from a random place far from home to be The Hawthorne Heiress, this isn't something regular, this a game. One of the old man's games. “The entire world’s going to want a piece of you, Mystery Girl. This has story of the century written all over it.” He reminded her about the media and how the world is going to talk about her.

Avery didn't say anything, she walked outside. He wanted to follow her but instead he opened the envelope that was held by him.

Jameson going to Avery’s room through the secret passageway

Avery didn't stay at Hawthorne House that night, he assumed her bodyguard and lawyer took her to one of the hotel's that was owned by Tobias Hawthorne and now hers. He saw her later the next day solving the keys, yet another game that proved that she is special, she solved it faster than any Hawthorne to start with. That night Jameson read his letter again and again, it took him one read to realise it was a clue, he can't help but read it again to see what it says, where it leads. But he also knew this would be nothing without the major clue, a walking brown eyed clue.

If he was a normal person he would have knocked on her door. Jameson Hawthorne is anything but normal. He walked into her wing and moved a picture frame to solve a simple puzzle to release a handle that popped two inches away from the drawer nearby the picture frame, he pulled it and twisted it four times to make the drawer and the wall it was attached to open.

Secret passageway. It was everywhere in Hawthorne House.

He made his way inside and made his way to his grandfather’s room, now owned by Avery. Once he was close to the fireplace he heard nothing, almost thought she wasn't there. But he gave it a shot anyway.

“Pull the candlestick.”

He wasn't sure if she heard because it was dead silent. So he spoke again “Pull the candlestick on the fireplace, Heiress. Unless you want me stuck back here?” His tone was frisky.

“Pretty sure this qualifies as stalking.” His lips curved into a smile once she said that.

He can tell that she was just pulling it. “Don’t just pull forward. Angle it down.”

She did as he asked. Once he heard the click and saw the gap below, Jameson lifted the fireplace up to the mantle to go through the opening. Once he was in the room he positioned the candlestick back to it's original form.

“Secret passage,” he explained to know if it intrigues her. “The house is full of them.”

“Am I supposed to find that comforting?” She asked him. “Or terrifying?”

“You tell me, Mystery Girl. Are you comforted or terrified?” He let me sit with that for a moment. “Or is it possible that you’re intrigued?

She didn't say anything but he knew the answer. She didn't ask him what he expected her to ask.

“You’re not asking about the keys.” Jameson offered her a crooked little smile. “I expected you to ask about the keys.”

She held the keys up. “This was your doing.” Not a question, he noted.

“It’s a little bit of a family tradition.” He said with a motive. He has done nothing but think about the will reading and raise questions to himself, whys and hows.

“I’m not family.” She tried to make a statement but wasn't sure herself.

He tilted his head to one side. “Do you believe that?”

“I don’t know.” She thought before she spoke. Does she know something? That was Janesons first thought.

“It would be a shame,” Jameson commented, “if we were related.” He spared another smile for me, slow and sharp-edged. “Don’t you think?” Jameson is good at a lot of things, flirting is definitely one of them.

“I think that you already have more family than you can deal with.” She crossed my arms. “I also think you’re a lot less smooth than you think are. You want something.”

Points to Heiress. She's quick.

“Everyone is going to want something from you soon, Heiress.” Jameson smiled. “The question is: How many of us want something you’re willing to give?” He spoke in a way that would make her want to give into him. But her resistance was stronger than he thought.

“Stop calling me Heiress,” She shot back. “And if you turn answering my question into some kind of riddle, I’m calling security.”

“That’s the thing, Mystery Girl. I don’t think I’m turning anything into a riddle. I don’t think I have to. You are a riddle, a puzzle, a game—my grandfather’s last.” He spoke and looked at her very intently. He didn't care how it sounded to her, he was sure of what he believed to be true.

“Why do you think this house has so many secret passages? Why are there so many keys that don’t work in any of the locks? Every desk my grandfather ever bought has secret compartments. There’s an organ in the theater, and if you play a specific sequence of notes, it unlocks a hidden drawer. Every Saturday morning, from the time I was a kid until the night my grandfather died, he sat my brothers and me down and gave us a riddle, a puzzle, an impossible challenge—something to solve. And then he died. And then…” Jameson took a step toward her. “There was you.” He tried explaining to her how Hawthorne House is, how his grandmother was. Why his grandfather chose her wasn't random.

“Grayson thinks you’re some master manipulator. My aunt is convinced you must have Hawthorne blood. But I think you’re the old man’s final riddle—one last puzzle to be solved.” He took another step, bringing the two of them much closer. “He chose you for a reason, Avery. You’re special, and I think he wanted us—wanted me —to figure out why.”

This point he was convinced that she was a puzzle to be solved or a clue that would lead him to something. Something his grandfather wanted him to find, to know. Because the old man knew damn well that Jameson Hawthorne could never resist a game.

“I’m not a puzzle.” Her heart was beating faster because of their closeness or because of what he's saying.

“Sure you are,” Jameson said. “We all are. Don’t tell me that some part of you hasn’t been trying to figure us out. Grayson. Me. Maybe even Xander.”

“Is this all just a game to you?” She put her hand out to stop him from advancing farther. He took one last step, forcing her palm to his chest. That touch shouldn't have excited him, even if it did, he didn't concentrate on it.

“Everything’s a game, Avery Grambs. The only thing we get to decide in this life is if we play to win.” He reached up to brush the hair from her face, and she jerked back.

“Get out,” She said lowly. “Use the normal door this time.”

“You’re angry,” Jameson said. Making her angry isn't helpful, if she's angry with him she may not help. Or see that this is a game, and she is a piece of it.

“I told you—if you want something, ask. Don’t come in here talking about how I’m special. Don’t touch my face.”

“You are special.” Jameson kept his hands to himself, but the heady expression in his eyes never shifted.

“And what I want is to figure out why. Why you, Avery?” He took a step back, giving her space. “Don’t tell me you don’t want to know, too.”

She does, she wants to know. She must.

“I’m going to leave this here.” Jameson held up an envelope. He laid it carefully on the mantel. “Read it, and then tell me this isn’t a game to be won. Tell me this isn’t a riddle.” Jameson reached for the candelabra, and as the fireplace passage opened once more, he offered a targeted, parting shot. “He left you the fortune, Avery, and all he left us is you.”

Avery coming out of Vincent Blake’s mansion (tfg)

Jameson wouldn't forgive himself if something happened inside, if someone happened to either of them. Avery and Grayson. Especially Avery because he let her go inside, knowing the kind of man Vincent Blake is. His heart could pop out any second, it was beating that fast. He tried to keep it cool with all the paparazzi outside. He kept looking at the gate, waiting for her. For her to come out alive and bring his brother, maybe Toby even. Whatever is happening inside, he prays that she is winning. Somehow she must.

His heart skipped a beat once he saw Avery come out with Grayson and Toby. He wanted to run and hug her, he didn't care that they'd cause a scene. but he stopped himself because he saw Toby talking to her, he slowly made his way to them and the car. To let her know he was there. He also let her have her moment with Toby.

He didn't know what happened inside, but from the look of it he can tell that Avery won. Whatever game they played, however she played, she won. And she was safe along with Grayson. That's all that mattered to him at that moment.

When she made her way to him, he didn't ask her what happened. “The knight returns with the damsel in distress,” Jameson declared. He glanced toward Grayson. “You’re the damsel.”

“I figured,” Grayson deadpanned.

“What are you doing here?” She asked Jameson. He can see the victory in her eyes, she was more open with him now that the first time they met. It was getting easier to tell what she was thinking.

“I thought you could use a ride home,” Jameson told her. She looked past him, expecting to see a helicopter.

“Pretty sure you aren’t allowed to land a helicopter there,” Grayson told his brother.

“You know what they say about permission and forgiveness,” Jameson replied, then he focused back on her with a familiar look—equal parts I dare you and I’ll never let you go. “Want to learn to fly?”

Avery smiled and took his hand. He still didn't ask her what happened, he just enjoyed her victory in the air. Just Avery and Jameson.

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