#fight against the system be strong be brutal so no one fucks with you

[clockworkreapers]

So Majell and Falmea have feelings for each-other??

Yep! It’s platonic though, kinda like a familial bond more than anything. So they would be moirales I suppose. Will they say it/ do they have to say it though? No not really, they know what they are to each other and that’s good enough for them.

#adult relationships do be like that sometimes #and Falmea doesn’t let her barrier down around people all too much cuz she’s gotta be the badass rust blood others look up to #fight against the system be strong be brutal so no one fucks with you #but with Majell and conversations with her you kinda see her relax a bit #Majell also just appreciates her tenacity and fire (pun intended) #Majell also is a lesbian by human standards but she doesn’t see Falmea in that way #does she want to help her and be there for her and protect her cuz she cares about her? yes obviously #but you can do that without wanting to have an intimate relationship #either way their relationship is a soft one ice and fire they care in their own ways #I don’t mind if people wanna do more with that tho lol have fun #clock rambles #aleph null

[soraka-in-warhammer40k]

A theory on the Primarch Mirror-Pairings and figuring out the identity of the Lost Primarchs from that

So this theory as a whole is nothing new, and I have seen versions of it going around. However, as a fun thought exercise, I thought maybe if there are two able to match up, that could be a hint towards two two "mystery" ones. Generally when dealing with Chaos you never just get the thing you want - you usually get two, neither being exactly what you wished for but technically fitting the definition. Given how the Emperor "tricked" the Chaos Gods in cooperating (strong word for just saying "No Fuck Off when being presented with the bill), the Primarchs should be no exception with this.

For this we will start with the most obvious pairings, and then move on to the speculative bits. Overall we should get ten pairings, each themed around a thing one would need as a load bearing pillar of the empire.

Pairing One: Rogal Dorn and Peturabo. Infrastructure. Iron Warriors and Imperial Fists are probably the only two legions that are actively involved in building infrastructure. These two are the ones who even in peace times could have their place in the Imperium - just imagine construction crews of Astartes taming even the most dangerous deathworlds and turning them into habitable planets. Sadly, in their timeline, there is only war.

Pairing two, Roboute Guiliman and Horus. Logistical prowess, with the difference being that while the Ultramarines are superior at running a multi-system-empire, in terms of pure war logistics Horus is superior. The Lunar Wolves always won because they were good at fighting, stealth, speed, and anything - but because it is hard to lose when you got a fuckload of tanks and artillery backing you up and blasting the enemy to bits before you even get into close range.

Pairing three: The Lion and Alpharius. Secrets. Oh so many secrets. One is vey good at keeping them, the other at getting them. Both are defined by a paranoid streak that puts their own little club above everything in the universe, inculding the Empire they are a part of or the Chaos Gods respectively.

Most likely pair to do a loyality-swap in the future edition.

Pairing Four: Leman Russ and Angron. The "send them somewhere quick and brutal"-team. People tend to forget that lore detail, but given pre-nail Angron's palandin-equse abilities and personality, the War Dogs were initially designed as a rapid responder to help other legions. They were the cavallary coming in to save their friends in trouble by straight up murdering the enemy full-force. Sadly, the Nails in Angron's head had other plans.

Meanwhile the Space Wolves are there to get sent on allies should they pose a danger. They are the only legion that had combat experience against Astartes before the Heresy. Both would rush into combat with absolute savagery and brutality.

Pairing Five: Corvus Corax and Kondrad Curze. Role: being in your vents. Right now. These are the stealthy boys. Not much can be said here because the premise is quite simple, even if both legions draw entirely different conclusion on how to operate with their stealth.

The Raven Guard is more about surgical strikes from impossible positions, while the Night Lords are, well... more prone to evading the actual enemy while forcing a planet into compliance by sheer incomprehensible terror.

Pairing Six: The Khan and Mortarion. Movement. You wanna go somewhere and you definetly need to go get there? Either get there faster than anyone else, or just get there absolutely no matter what stands between you and the destination.

Pairing Seven: Sanguinius and Fulgrim. The potentially cultural icons of the Empire. Aside from both legions being some of the few that truly respect the arts, they are also both the legions with the most severe build-in mental illnesses. Both of them are a result of how "emotionally crippled" Astartes are by design when compared to regular beings. This probably deserves its own post.

---

This leaves us Ferrus Manus, Vulcan, Magnus, and Lorgar. It could make sense to put the first two into a category, but that would be the first pairing that would not follow the pattern of "loyalist vs. chaos" which by now has been established. Meanwhile Magnus and Lorgar do not really fit together either. Sure they both meddle with the warp, but that's something other Primarchs do too, even if to various degrees.

Assuming we put Vulcan and Ferrus Manus into the "Craftsmen" category, that must mean that the two Lost Primarchs might be mirrors to Magnus and Lorgar respectively. Alternatively one could put Magnus and Ferrus Manus into a combo themed around transhumanism, either by technology or psykic ability. This would fit with the established pattern.

Then the two lost would be mirrors of Volcan and Lorgar.

Since it is Lorgar in both cases, it would make sense given how out of his brothers the purge of the Lost shook him the most. In fact, the Emperor's lack of mercy in this case was probably the one thing that set the conditions for the heresy to happen. Him having a counterpart, probably a philosophical mind to bounce of his theologics, would make sense, and given how both within that theme would be more civilized than some of their brothers, they'd probably have some interesting contrast him.

Both would probably be the same in the way that they seek their salvation in something deemed superior to them. For the Word Bearers that was the Emperor. But who could it be for the Lost One? Maybe the Glorious Machine God? The Omnissiah? Given how the Word Bearers have a lot of cybernetic constructs fighting for them, despite that having little to do with their original theme, and Lorgar canonically having being close with one of the Lost, it is save to assume that Lost Legion One went HARD into tech - and probably got purged due to meddling with AI.

Vulcan meanwhile, while being a big guy with a big heart and some mad smithing skills he picked up at his core is about one thing: survival. He is a perpetual and just can't die, and under that theme his legions self-reliancy when it comes to weapons and other tech makes a lot of sense. The Salamanders are probably some of the toughest Astartes around, and they are very aware of it. Ironically that combined with the personality led to the highest casuality rates of any legion early on, as they would sacrifice themselves a lot to get civillians and guard out of the danger zone. Because who if not the toughest boys around should be the ones to rush head first into danger? It could also be that Perpetuals in general have an subconscious lower self-preservation-instinct, and that gets put into his Astartes as well - who sadly are NOT Perpetuals. They just get the brain of one.

So how would a mirror look like to this? Simple: survival through adaptation. A highly adaptive biology that with some bio-science adding it up could probably do everything from making them grow protective scales to getting gills. It could explain some of the weirder animal-themed chapters running around today.

They were probably purged because they went a bit too hard into "becoming their own species" by accident. Turns out when you are biological clay, changing one's sex is not exactly hard. So yeah, this is where the Lady Space Marines ended up - with the response of the Emperor being "Ew, girls are yucky - and also you are about to betray humanity as a whole by evolving away from it" followed by a purge.

Wait, doesn't this all sound familiar? OH RIGHT IT TOTALLY ADDS UP WITH MY PREVIOUS THEORY ON THE LOST PRIMARCHS.

Who could have known? It's almost like I had some thought put into it for a long ass time :>

#Warhammer 40k #wh40k #primarchs #theory #fan theory

[parallelplastic]

Could you do Kokichi getting swarmed by tentacles filled with aphrodisiacs? Mind break and belly bulge are preferable.

Drabble below cut:

Kokichi's heart leapt into his throat the same time a tentacle shoved itself down. He desperately tried to pull at his binds, but only found his legs and arms spread further apart. No matter how hard he squirmed, the monster was unrelenting now that it had it's victim.

He tried hard to not give it the reaction it wanted, but he couldn't ignore the hot buzzing feeling spreading across his skin wherever they touched. Or how his breathing got heavier and heavier. How his legs trembled and the way it squeezed his thighs. The way it poured sweet liquid down his throat, forcing him to swallow big gulps and stuffing his stomach.

He whimpered, feeling his mind getting fuzzier as time went on. By now his hard weeping cock has soaked the inside of his boxers. One of the tentacles reached up and rubbed harshly though his pants, causing him to flinch and buck.

Oh.

Oh. That felt good.

His eyes fluttered back for a moment as his mind went numb. He rocked his hips back into the rubbing tentacle, moaning and drooling around the one in his mouth.

When another poked at his ass he felt a rush of his rationale coming back to him. He stuttered his desperate motions to a halt, shaking and crying and drooling and swallowing. He wasn't supposed to be enjoying this. He was supposed to be fighting his way out.

The tentacle ripped a hole in the back of his pants and boxers.

If his mind got temporarily fucked over by a simple bit of rutting, what would happen once it fucked him for real?

Kokichi felt panic returning to him, but when he tried to struggle he ended up rubbing his crotch against the sweet sweet hot tentacle once again. He gasped and whined, but when he moved back he was greeted with another pressing against his hole and leaving it with that buzzing warm feeling.

His whole body felt buzzing and warm and his brain felt dumb and mushy and wrong.

All at once the tentacle shoved into his now slicked up hole and began thrusting hard enough that his entire body shook with it. At his front, his cock was enveloped and milked to oblivion. At his mouth, a heavier stream of delicious sweet brain melting drugs was shoved down his throat, stuffing him to the point where he thought he couldn't handle it anymore.

His eyes fully rolled back now, little muffled "ah..! Ahh..!"s fell out his mouth with every thrust. The pleasure felt so good that his arms and legs kept shaking and trying to escape the onslaught of GOOD.

He was going to be become addicted to this.

His cock was throbbing and dripping all over the place. He could barely breathe with how hard he gasped.

Don't give in, he thought. Stay strong.

Stay strong...

Don't give ...don't give in....don't....

Kokichi tried to look around, as a last ditch escape effort. His eyes could barely focus, lolling around and limp. When he looked down, he saw the way his stomach was pushed out in the shape of the tentacle fucking him.

It..

It feels too good!!

Kokichi screamed, his orgasm brutalizing his nerves in one big explosion. His cock, continuing to be milk, sprayed against the wall with three thick pumps. He continued to shake and cry through it. Begging for more. Shoving his ass back to fuck himself, drawing out the sparks of his orgasm as long as he could. The toe curling high never seemed to end, not with the drugs still being pumped through his system.

"ah.... ahhh....mmm...."

His still hard cock slowed down, but continued to twitch. He couldn't think anymore. He didn't care anymore.

The only word left in his mind was "more"

#nsft #danganronpa #kokichi ouma #hope you enjoyed! #dr #drv3 #ndrv3

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

5 times Merlin does something that requires a considerable amount of strength;

+1 time the gang has time to actually bring it up.

Everyone is baffled, half distracted by Merlin’s surprising buffness and half amused by Arthur’s gay panic:

1)

The clearing fills with the sounds of a brutal fight. 

The Knights of Camelot, along with their King, had given up on trying to figure out how bandits always managed to find them in the woods. It seemed impossible for there to be so many mercenary groups that it was just coincidence for them to stumble upon each other so often, but equally, the knights moved quietly and always covered their tracks well, so... yeah, who knows.

The point is, they’re outnumbered three to one, and all of them were starting to regret not listening to Merlin’s earlier suggestion that they keep riding for another hour or so; their camp was destroyed and the fight was tiring them out.

Three to one weren’t bad odds, especially for knights with such a high level of skill, but it was exhausting and time consuming and they just wanted it to be over. Merlin was having similar thoughts as he stumbles through the middle of the crowd, trying to get out of the way. He was keeping an eye on them of course, but his friends were winning so his magical intervention wasn’t really needed; he was just annoyed that Arthur was almost certainly going to make him clear everything up afterwards.

His attention is suddenly caught when Percival’s voice rings out across the clearing:

“Merlin! Behind you!”

All of the knights’ gazes whip to the servant when they hear the giant’s yell, and they all abandon their own battles to step towards him despite knowing that they were too far away to be able to help in time. The servant takes in a sharp breath at Percival’s warning, becoming suddenly aware of a fast-moving presence behind him; he forms a fist and turns, swinging blindly with all his strength and following through even when his knuckles crunch with surprising accuracy against the temple of a bandit.

The man, not expecting the rapid attack, doesn’t have time to move out of the way, and his head jerks to the side, his entire body following as if an afterthought. He crumples to the floor gracelessly, unconscious before his head makes contact with the trampled undergrowth.

Merlin hisses at the pain bursting through his knuckles and up into his wrist, shaking his hand out as he steps over the bandit’s still form without even blinking, back to focusing on attempting to find a tree to sit behind and sulk, as if nothing had happened.

The knights only have a fraction of a second to freeze in shock before they’re dragged back to their own fights, forced to defend themselves lest they get skewered. 

The battle only lasts a few more minutes; despite being outnumbered, the knights far outmatch the bandits in skill (and sufficient armour) and Merlin was correct in his assumption that they wouldn’t need any of his DIY luck, which is a good thing really, considering how much his hand is throbbing. He peeks his head around the tree when things go suspiciously quiet, getting up and making his way to the abandoned bag of medical supplies when he sees the knights victorious.

The servant runs a quick gaze over them, taking stock of any potential injuries as he makes his way through the clearing, injured hand clenched tightly and held to his chest. He may have knocked the bandit out, but that just meant that the punch was hard enough to do damage to his hand as well as the other guy’s head. When he finds nothing more than the odd bruise on the others, he grabs a roll of bandages for himself, quickly wrapping his hand almost painfully tight, before turning to Arthur with a scowl:

“I told you we were too close to the road, I told you we should’ve kept on going. But do you ever listen to me? No, because you’re-”

He’s cut off by The King stepping towards him and taking his bandaged hand, cradling it gently and looking to Merlin in concern:

“Merlin, are you alright?”

Merlin just rolls his eyes and huffs, snatching his hand back and retreating to check on the horses, thankfully tied and uninjured at the edge of the clearing:

“No, my hand fucking hurts, because, surprisingly enough, these idiots have skulls almost as thick as yours. We need to move camps, like I said earlier. Prat.”

Arthur frowns, looking down to Merlin’s unconscious bandit at his feet, and then glancing back to the other knights, who all just shrug with wide eyes. The King sighs, reluctantly nodding at Merlin’s assertion as he stares up at the darkening sky, deciding that Merlin must’ve... hit a pressure point or... something:

“Everyone pack up, I want to be moving on in three minutes.”

2)

Merlin had foregone his jacket and rolled his sleeves up in the surprising Spring heatwave.

Which was a sight in itself.

But what really made the knights look twice (I mean... Arthur was just outright staring, but Leon had long since glared the others into not mentioning The King’s little... crush) was the way the supposedly wimpy servant had two sets of chainmail folded on one shoulder, his arm curled over them to keep them balanced, and a few odd bits of mismatched armour clutched in his other hand. He was making his way from the training field up to the castle, presumably to find an empty room to sit quietly and clean them.

Elyan waves at him across the field, the movement just about catching the servant’s gaze as he twists around, flashing a bright, sunny grin in place of waving back. 

Arthur gulps, eyes drawn to the vein standing out from Merlin’s uncovered neck; apparently the heat had encouraged him to abandon his neckerchief as well. The King takes a deep breath, sending a scowl Merlin’s way to cover his... surprise, holding in a smirk when the servant just rolls his eyes and turns back to the castle.

His stride was strong, and though his arms were straining against the weight, he looked entirely unbothered, not even breathing deeply as he picks up his pace, jogging up the citadel steps.

Training had all but stopped at this point, the roundtable knights staring in confusion as Merlin carefully pulled the door open, making sure he wouldn’t drop anything, before nudging the door shut again with his hip. Gwaine was the first to break the silence, quirking one of his eyebrows up as he speaks in a slightly surprised tone:

“Didn’t know he had it in him. Wearing one set, when the weight is evenly distributed, is hard enough, let alone carrying two sets. And armour. Up steps. Huh.”

Arthur clears his throat, looking away with a slight blush as he asserts:

“Yes, well, knights carry the same weight in armour and weapons everyday, if not more. If you’re that impressed Sir Gwaine, perhaps you should work on your strength.”

Gwaine turns to him with a smirk, but Leon’s warning glare stops him from teasing, or saying anything else that could be considered treasonous. Instead, he rolls his eyes at the first knight before humming non-committedly and pointing his sword at The King:

“That, Princess, sounds like a challenge.”

Arthur, blush forgotten, looks up with raised eyebrows and a chuckle, noting with satisfaction the way the other knights spread out to form a circle around the two of them, swords lowered and expectant looks on their faces:

“Does it now? I suppose you’ll have to take me up on it then, won’t you?”

3)

The knights were on some stupid (in Merlin’s opinion) quest.

The group was currently making their way through a complicated cave system. They had maps, thankfully, but they were old, and provided by a small village of locals who hadn’t spoken common very well. 

They’d had to trade away half of their supplies in return for the maps, so Arthur was already in a foul mood, but a dotted line on the page across the path they were following was worrying him. The note written next to it was in some old, almost lost native language, so The King had just resigned himself to carrying on and hoping for the best.

Which is why he let out a series of echoing curse words when they turned a corner to find a ragged overhang, about eight feet above the path. The wall curved in on itself before jutting out again at the top, making it impossible to climb, even without armour and swords and packs.

Elyan is the first to break the tense silence after Arthur’s outburst, his tone half amused, half annoyed, as he mutters:

“That’ll be why the locals kept pointing at that ladder then.”

Arthur huffs, glaring at the knight with a rare venom, but Leon gestures to the map in his hand before he can retort:

“We can always go back, or is there another way around?”

Arthur huffs louder, letting out a short growl as he thrusts the maps to Leon’s chest and paces closer to the overhang:

“Feel free, if you can find an alternative route, please, enlighten me. The village is a day’s journey away, we don’t have time to go back.”

Leon covers his annoyance at Arthur’s harshness well, but Merlin scowls at The King openly before moving to stand at the junction between the wall of the corridor, and the overhang in front of them:

“Don’t be an arse, Arthur, it’s not Leon’s fault that none of us can understand Old... whatever it was. And it’s not that high, just-”

With that, Merlin braces his foot against the wall, bending his knees slightly before pushing off and jumping up, reaching out and grabbing the overhang, his feet dangling off the ground. The knights stare in shock, but before they can say anything, Merlin swings his feet forwards, and backwards, and forwards again. When they swing back for the second time, he uses the momentum to pull himself up, his arms locking out straight beneath him as he lifts his knees up, crawling over the edge and onto the floor above them.

Arthur blinks, looking from the floor, to the wall, and up to Merlin again, trying to figure out how the hell his manservant had enough strength in his arms and core to pull himself up; he hadn’t even taken his pack off.

Lancelot clears his throat, tilting his head and frowning as he slowly speaks:

“That was... impressive. But we’re wearing armour, Merlin, I don’t think we’ll be able to manage that with all the extra weight.”

No one mentions that they don’t think they could do it even without armour.

Merlin just rolls his eyes and sits on the edge, his feet dangling below him as he gestures vaguely:

“Well if you just get your hands on the ledge then I can pull you up. Take your packs off and throw them up first if you’re so worried, you can give each other a hand up, and Percival can go last because of how tall he is. Come on, it wasn’t that hard.”

Lancelot shrugs, taking his pack off and throwing it up with all his might. Merlin leans out, catching it with ease and chucking it behind him as he motions Percival to interlock his hands. The knight does so, allowing Lancelot to step on them and throw himself up, just about managing to catch the ledge and groaning at the strain in his arms. Merlin brings his feet back over the overhang, bracing his heels against the stone as he reaches down, gripping Lancelot’s wrists and hauling him up and over the edge.

Lance yelps as Merlin yanks him up, rolling onto his back and panting at the ceiling as he blinks in surprise. Merlin doesn’t pay him any attention, frowning down at the others and gesturing at them to hurry:

“Come on, I thought we were in a rush?”

With that, they all huddle below, taking turns to be thrown up and hauled over the edge. Merlin drags Elyan up on his own, Lance still recovering from his slight shock, but the more people gather at the top, the less work Merlin has to do. Which is good, because he may be strong, but he’s not sure he could manage Percival on his own. The giant has to take a running leap at the ledge, and it takes four of them to pull him up without dislocating any shoulders or throwing out any backs.

When they’re all successfully at the top, Merlin wordlessly picks his pack up, shrugging it onto his shoulders as he begins a quick pace along the corridor as if he hadn’t a care in the world; the knights break out of their stupors and jog to catch up, knowing that Merlin was right and they needed to hurry.

4)

Arthur was glaring resolutely at the floor, trying to psych himself up to confront whatever arsehole had managed to get the drop on him and his six best knights. The others were arguing in whispers around him, trying to figure out some way to escape the dungeon unscathed, though The King kept silent, knowing that the only way out was if someone unlocked these infernal chains first.

They’d only been there for around an hour, so no one from Camelot would have realised they were missing yet; their only hope was that Merlin was making his way back to the city to get help. He’d been off gathering firewood, and he’d already been gone half a candle mark when they’d been ambushed; Arthur would never admit it, but he had faith that Merlin would be able to sort everything out.

The King harshly shushes the knights as he hears the guards begin to yell, but frowns in confusion when he hears “They’re going crazy up there!” and “What the fuck?!” before the unmistakable sound of armoured boots running up the stairs and away from the dungeons reaches them.

The knights all look to each other in confusion, straining against their chains to try and see through the small barred window at the top of the door. A shadow passes through the square of light on the floor, and they all shuffle back against the wall, staying silent. None of them manage to hold in their surprised yelps however, when the door suddenly bursts in, the wood around the lock splintering violently and spreading shards across the dungeon floor.

A strong arm extends out, stopping the now broken beyond repair door from swinging shut again, and the knights look up, taking in sharp gasps when they see Merlin stood there, scowling disapprovingly with a ring of keys in his other hand and one foot in front of the other, as if he had... as if he had kicked the door. Leon is the first to break the silence:

“Merlin?? What are you doing here?”

Merlin’s scowl deepens as he glances down the corridor before stepping into the dungeon, sorting through the keys to try and figure out which one would open which set of chains:

“Well I’m rescuing you lot, obviously. I leave camp for barely a candle-mark and you get yourselves kidnapped. Honestly, how hard is it to not find trouble, for once?”

Arthur is too busy staring at Merlin’s apparently muscled legs to say anything, even when Elyan clears his throat and kicks him, so Percival is the next to speak as Merlin unlocks his chains:

“Why not just... unlock the door?”

Merlin doesn’t look at the largest of the knights as he moves on to the others, unchaining them one by one as he responds, his scowl still firmly in place:

“The key was on a separate ring and I only had time to grab one, figured the door would be easier to break than the chains.”

Arthur finally blinks and shakes his head free of.... distracting, thoughts as Merlin finally turns to him, holding his hands out to be unchained as he clears his throat and says strongly, forcing the waiver from his voice:

“How did you distract the guards?”

Merlin finally smiles at that, standing and reaching into his pocket to pull out a lumpy looking bit of plant:

“Snuck in and pretended to be one of their slaves, laced all the jugs with mandrake root. They’re all going loopy with hallucinations upstairs, a few of them vomited and I think one guy might have shit himself. The guards went to see what was wrong, so we don’t have much time, come on.”

Arthur nods impressed, and was the last of the group to sneak from the dungeon, pausing briefly to run a hand over the splintered wood and warped metal of the kicked-in door, before shaking his head and following the others out of the not-quite-abandoned fort.

5)

It had been almost a year since Merlin had last seen his mother, so when the servant requested two weeks off to visit home, wanting to help the village out with repairs before the winter set in, Arthur agreed immediately, on the condition that he and a couple of the knights could tag along.

Merlin reluctantly gave in, but only after insisting that he wouldn’t be Arthur’s servant, and whoever came would have to dig in and help out. To be honest, Arthur was mentally exhausted after months of work on repealing the magic ban, so Merlin was silently grateful that he was coming; The King needed a break, and Merlin knew how secretly fond the man was of Merlin’s mother, and her simple country life. 

In the end, Leon and Mordred were the only ones who could come; Lancelot and Elyan were left in charge of patrols, Percival and Gwaine were left in charge of training, and Guinevere, Gaius, and Morgana were left to oversee the council and the general running of the Kingdom. Arthur wasn’t worried to be honest, they were only going to be gone for two weeks, and if disaster set in they were only a two day’s ride away at most.

It was chilly, the winter was setting in early so Merlin and Hunith were eager for work to start as soon as possible. There were numerous leaks and fences to fix, and one of the village’s barns needed clearing out so it could filled with grain over the snowy season.

That, and as much firewood needed to be collected as possible so they could stockpile. They normally barely had enough to last them through the winter; Arthur had nodded in approval when Merlin had meekly asked if they could take a cart of wood with them from Camelot, but they still had a lot to gather.

It was the afternoon of their first day, Leon had been sent to a neighbour’s to fix a roof, Merlin was doing something outside, and Mordred was just about to head over to one of the livestock pastures to strengthen a few of the fences. Hunith was preparing the evening’s meal and Arthur stood politely in the doorway as he spoke:

“Merlin said that firewood had to be gathered? I can get started on that if you can point me in the right direction.”

Hunith smiles over her shoulder briefly, and Arthur ignores the warm fuzziness in his stomach at the sight as she speaks:

“Oh don’t worry about that, we’ve only one axe in the village and Merlin is out by the barn chopping wood now. I know there’s a leak somewhere in the basement of the village hall, a few of the boys are already down there if you’re looking for something to do?”

Arthur raises his eyebrow at Hunith’s insistence that Merlin, his lanky manservant, was outside with an axe chopping wood, and he glances at Mordred over his shoulder, who just shrugs, nodding to Hunith’s turned back. The King responds quietly, trying to keep the amusement out of his voice:

“Hmm. I’ll go check in with Merlin and then head down to the hall, if he doesn’t need help.”

Hunith hums in agreement, but otherwise doesn’t reply, mumbling under her breath about herbs and measurements as she stirs something into the pot. Arthur smirks at Mordred and the two of them head out, neither mentioning how Mordred was following Arthur to find Merlin instead of getting to the fences.

They walk in silence, though they both freeze on the spot when they turn a corner to see Merlin, once again with his sleeves rolled up, hefting around a huge lump of wood, a ginormous axe resting on his shoulder. He gets the wood where he wants it, stepping back and wiping his forearm across his sweaty forehead before lifting the axe and swinging it down again. The stump splits easily beneath the sharpened metal, and Merlin wastes no time in repositioning the new pieces of wood, ready to be chopped again.

Arthur doesn’t even realise his mouth is hanging open until Mordred looks at him and smirks, biting his lip before giving in and snorting quietly:

“You’re the colour of our capes, Sire, and you might want to shut your mouth. Don’t want to catch flies, do you?”

Arthur’s jaw snaps shut with a clack, and he frowns as his teeth begin to ache. Mordred chuckles slightly and though Arthur is grateful that the young knight is finally comfortable enough to joke around with him, he desperately wishes he wasn’t at Gwaine’s level of comfort.

Instead of retorting, Arthur just clears his throat and turns around, striding towards the village hall:

“It appears he’s got things handled. Those fences won’t fix themselves, Sir Mordred.”

Mordred only just manages to hold in his giggle, looking up to see Merlin staring confusedly at him and Arthur’s rapidly retreating back. He waves briefly, sending a quick “I’ll tell you later.” over their mental link before turning himself and heading in the direction of the pastures.

He knows full well that he has no intention of telling Merlin about Arthur’s crush; watching them tiptoe around each other was the funniest thing ever, and he didn’t want to ruin the bet that Gwaine had going.

+1)

The fight was vicious, more so than any of the skirmishes the knights had dealt with in the last several months.

They were vastly outnumbered, and the addition of four powerful sorcerers to the enemy ranks meant that Merlin and Mordred were quickly running out of energy, having to focus on both the magical aspect of the fight, and trying to keep everyone else alive.

The metallic scent of blood was almost overwhelming, and the constant clang of metal on metal mixed with the whooshing echoes of sorcerous fire and vines was deafening. The fight went on a lot longer than Merlin had thought it would; the enemy was clearly more skilled than predicted, but the Camelot knights did prevail eventually, Percival ending the fight with the smooth slice of his blade across the last mercenary’s throat.

Merlin wastes no time in running his gaze over the knights, giving special attention to Arthur as he searches for any injuries that need seeing to immediately. The last of the sorcerers had managed to escape, so they needed to get out of there as soon as possible: there’s no way they’d survive a second attack if he came back with reinforcements.

Merlin was relieved to see nothing too serious; Lancelot had a gash on his temple that would need a thorough cleaning and a few stitches, and Gwaine was holding his wrist to his chest in a way that told Merlin it was likely broken, but everyone was on their feet and no one was crying. That’s a good start.

Merlin relaxes, but his shoulders quickly tense again as Mordred’s voice echoes weakly through his head:

“Emrys... I’m... I’m tired...”

Merlin whips around quickly, his eyes wide and panicked as his frantic gaze lands on the young knight. He’s leaning against a tree, his eyes hooded and focused on the floor. Merlin leaps towards him, catching him just before his head lands harshly on a boulder, and pulling the collapsed younger man into a more comfortable position as Arthur rushes over:

“What’s wrong with him? I don’t see any blood, was he hit with magic?”

Merlin waves him off, checking Mordred’s pulse and breathing before he relaxes again, sending a tired, but relieved smile up to The King:

“He’s fine, just exhausted. This is the first time he’s used this much magic in years, he’ll need a little while to recover his strength, but we need to get out of here in case they come back.”

Arthur lets out a relieved sigh and nods, leaning down to take one of Mordred’s arms and waving Gwaine over to pick his legs up, but before either of them get even close, Merlin stands up, dragging Mordred with him and settling the armoured knight across his shoulders. He looks to Arthur next to him, not seeming to notice The King’s shock as he quickly says:

“I know you’re The King and all, but would you mind carrying my bag?”

Arthur nods dumbly, picking up Merlin’s dropped medical bag without taking his gaze off the Warlock, who wanders around double checking that the other knights were ok and that all the bandits were dead as if he didn’t have about 240 pounds of man and armour dangling from his shoulders.

Leon catches Arthur’s eye, nodding pointedly towards the path they needed to take, trying to pull Arthur back into the present before the others notice him gawping. Arthur gulps, blushing as he nods his thanks and moves away from the battlefield, Merlin’s bag secured on his shoulders as he confidently speaks:

“Merlin’s right, we need to get as far away from here as we can. I saw a cave about two hours’ back North, we can make camp there before heading back to Camelot in the morning. Gather as much as you can carry, we’ve no hope of finding the horses before nightfall, hopefully they can make their own way home.”

The knights all nod, following Arthur’s lead as he steps carefully through the underbrush, trying not leave any obvious pointers to their direction. He keeps his gaze resolutely ahead as he hears Percival ask:

“You alright, Merlin? Sure you don’t want a hand?”

Despite keeping his gaze stubbornly forward, Arthur strains his ears to hear Merlin’s response, refusing to acknowledge the sudden weakness in his knees at what the Warlock replies with:

“Nah, it’s fine, he’s not that heavy.”

Leon subtly sidles up to walk next to The King, glancing behind him before leaning in close, talking quietly as they moved:

“Perhaps you should... let him know of you affections, Sire?”

Arthur’s blushing gaze quickly finds the older knight’s before he looks away again:

“I don’t know what you think you’re implying, Sir Leon.”

Leon just raises his eyebrow in an unusual display of amused defiance:

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Arthur. He’s been by your side for ten years, you’ve been through the unspeakable, both with each other and for each other. That, and he has a surprisingly... admirable physique.-”

Arthur’s blush deepens and he clears his throat, crossing his arms petulantly and staring resolutely ahead. Leon puts a hand on The young King’s shoulder as he continues:

“-You’re...-”

The knight sighs and bites his lip again, debating with himself over whether he should say it or not:

“-you’re head over heels for him, Sire, perhaps it’s time to do something about it? Gods know he feels the same, and the Gods also know that he’ll never make the first move. He’s still... nervous, about messing things up, I think. His-”

Leon glances over his shoulder again to make sure no one could hear him before dropping his voice to a whisper:

“-his magic being outed put him... on edge, even after all these months. He won’t do anything that he think could push you away or anger you.”

Arthur sighs and nods, before turning to him slowly with an embarrassed scowl on his face; he doesn’t shrug off Leon’s hand, which the knight takes as a good sign:

“Not a word to anyone, Leon, I swear to the Gods.”

Leon holds his hand up and uses his other to wave a cross over his heart:

“I swear, Sire. Though I feel the need to tell you that... at least three of the other servants, and I do believe Lady Bronwyn and Sir Galahad, also have... uh... their eyes on him, as it were.”

Arthur’s scowl gets impossibly deeper as he huffs, muttering to himself:

“They do, do they? Well, we’ll see about that.”

Leon just smirks again and rolls his eyes fondly before falling back to walk with Elyan.

~

They finally make it back to the cave, though it took them even longer without horses. Merlin had requested they stop around a candle mark in so he could remove some of the heavier bits of Mordred’s armour, passing them off to the other knights, but he had once again rejected any offers of help, saying that he was slowly siphoning his own magic into Mordred so he would wake sooner. Apparently they needed to be touching for that to happen, and though Merlin had been teaching them, none of them had enough knowledge on magic to know whether that was true or not, but they did know that Merlin was incredibly protective of the young Druid, so they let it be.

A fire was lit quickly and supplies were laid out. A map had been saved, thankfully, so they could figure out roughly where they were and how long it would take them to get back home as Merlin quickly treated Lance’s gash and Gwaine’s wrist.

Mordred begins to stir just as Percival serves up food, groaning slightly and rubbing at his eyes before struggling to sit himself up. Merlin had rushed to his side as soon as he felt the Druid begin to wake, and helps prop him up against the cave wall, handing him a water-skin as he stares at him with concern. Mordred takes a long drink, nodding his thanks and clearing his throat before speaking, his voice gravelly and slow:

“This... this is the cave we passed a few hours ago...”

His voice trails off, and Arthur answers the question in his tone:

“Hmm. We had no horses, so we were never going to make it back to the city, but we couldn’t stay where we were.”

Mordred nods, yawning widely and rubbing his eyes again as he asks:

“How did you get me this far without horses?”

Arthur clenches his jaw, blushing slightly as he looks away, but thankfully Gwaine butts in, answering with a grin on his face before anyone notices The King’s flush:

“Merlin here is stronger than he looks. Carried you the whole way, didn’t use magic or anything.”

Mordred turns his incredulous gaze to Merlin and he just shrugs absentmindedly:

“You don’t weigh that much, it was fairly easy.”

Elyan laughs and shakes his head, joining in on the conversation quickly:

“Are you kidding me? I mean... sure, I could’ve carried him for maybe an hour, if I was at full strength and it was easy terrain. You carried him for three, only took his armour off in the second hour, down what could barely be classified as a path, in a barely tamed forest, after a pretty hefty fight. That’s... impressive.”

Merlin raises an eyebrow, looking around the room in bafflement as he realises that everyone is staring at him with varying levels of impressed confusion:

“You guys... you guys know that I grew up in the country, right? I spent my childhood climbing trees and running away from predators, and my teenage years chopping wood, building things with barely any help, and fighting the odd bear. I then arrive in Camelot, only to immediately be given a job that involves carrying a shit ton of heavy stuff, including, but not limited to: armour, luggage, hunting equipment, and the occasional unconscious idiot.”

Arthur sits up straight and scowls slightly when Merlin gestures to him instead of Mordred:

“You have never had to carry me anywhere.”

Merlin raises an eyebrow, gaze sinking to the floor as he smirks and coughs out something that sounds suspiciously like “Sophia”.

Arthur’s blush deepens and he jabs an accusing finger in Merlin’s direction:

“That. Didn’t. Happen.”

Merlin bites his lip to stop himself from laughing, but his dimples still show through despite his best effort and he holds his hands up in surrender:

“Whatever you say, Sire.”

Arthur just clenches his jaw and sits back against the wall with eyes focused on his food and cheeks red, stubbornly ignoring the knights’ curious stares as everyone eats their food. Merlin fusses over Mordred for a few more minutes but is quickly waved away by the younger man; the Warlock huffs and rolls his eyes, but gives in to the fact that Mordred did not need, nor want, to be babied. He moves subtly around the cave to sit down next to Arthur, barely a foot of air between them despite the abundance of space elsewhere.

Arthur forces his blush down at Merlin’s proximity, refusing to think of anything but his food and the difficult journey home, desperately keeping his gaze on his meal instead of Merlin’s strong legs stretched out next to him.

The King doesn’t acknowledge him, but doesn’t move away either, which Merlin takes as a good sign as he settles in, wrapping himself in a blanket to protect his body from the impending cold.

The other knights have long since finished their meals, scarping the lot in a matter of seconds in an attempt to gain back a little energy after the hours of riding and fighting and walking; they quickly settle into the blankets and cloaks and bedrolls they had managed to carry, though Leon seems to deliberately move slower, waiting for Arthur to glance up at him so he can give a pointed look to Merlin, just finishing his food, before laying down and attempting to sleep.

Arthur blushes with wide eyes, but Leon turns around before he has time to glare at him, and The King huffs quietly, risking a glance to a shivering Merlin next to him. He quickly frowns, not moving his gaze away like he had intended to, instead whispering softly:

“Cold? Can’t you use magic to warm up?”

Merlin looks to him tiredly, leaning his head back against the wall as his eyelids droop slightly:

“Hmm. I gave most of my reserves to Mordred, he was worse off than I first thought so he needed a lot more magic than I realised to keep him alive long enough for his energy to build up again.-”

Arthur widens his eyes at the fact that he was so close to losing one of his knights, but then shakes his head, huffing as he glares at the Warlock disapprovingly, but Merlin closes his eyes and continues before he can get told off:

“-I’ll be fine by morning, I just need-”

He’s interrupted when his body is wracked by a particularly strong shiver:

“-I just need some sleep.”

Arthur rolls his eyes, shuffling into a more comfortable position before opening his arms, spreading his cloak wide as if they were a pair of majestic wings:

“Come here, you idiot. I can’t have you freezing to death because you refuse to look after yourself.”

In normal circumstance Merlin would’ve argued, but he really was cold, so when he cracks his eyes open to see Arthur ready and waiting, he doesn’t hesitate to crawl hurriedly over. Arthur ignores the flush rising on his cheeks as Merlin clambers over one of his legs, settling between them and shoving his head under the blonde’s chin; he wraps his cloak around the two of them and rubs his cheek into the Warlock’s soft hair. 

He can feel Merlin grin against his collarbone, and it’s enough to distract him from the surprising, but not unwelcome, weight of Merlin’s muscled form against his chest:

“You know, Arthur, if you wanted to feel up my muscles so badly you just had to ask. You stare far too often to think you’re subtle.”

Arthur’s flush deepens and his body goes rigid as Merlin giggles. He clenches his jaw and lands a punch, far softer than he would normally go for, on the other man’s shoulder, but that just makes him giggle harder, and Arthur has to hush him in fear of waking the others. Merlin looks up at him through thick eyelashes, blinking tiredly with a satisfied smile on his face:

“Just let me know if you ever want carrying around, I’m more than happy to help.”

Arthur gulps, refusing to make eye contact as he stares resolutely at the opposite wall and not acknowledging the red hue of his cheeks:

“When we get back to Camelot, I’m hanging you for treason.”

Merlin snorts quietly, re-burying his face in Arthur’s chest and curling up tightly in his lap to stave off the cold:

“Whatever you say, Sire.”

Arthur gives in, smiling slightly and rolling his eyes as he tightens his hold on the other man. He lets his cheek fall back to rest on his soft hair as he closes his eyes, allowing his exhaustion to take over and descending into an easy sleep.

~

THE END!!

We stan Arthur gay panicking and all the knights (bar Leon of course, who handles it as tactically as he’s able) ruthlessly taking the piss :D

I hope y’all enjoyed reading this, I certainly enjoyed writing it! Thank you anon, I loved writing this!!!

Same as always, someone wants to write it up in full, go for it!! Drop me a message and credit/tag me :)

#bbc merlin #merthur #merlin #merlin/arthur #good mordred #arthur pendragon #arthur gay panics all the way through #sir leon the long suffering #buff merlin #bamf merlin #sir leon #leon #sir gwaine #gwaine #sir lancelot #lancelot #sir elyan #elyan #sir percival #percival #mordred #sir mordred #good morgana #morgana #gaius #gwen #guinevere #5+1 #fluff #merthur fluff

[kirishoshego]

Moneypulated PT.2//Aizawa

!!!MINORS DNI!!! 18+ONLY!!!

Special thanks to Emmie for creating this awesome S&M event and letting me participate and those who requested a part two of my first Aizawa piece x

If you like Sadism and Masochism, BNHA; AOT and Haikyuu the event is definitely for you :)

Pairing: Sadist!Mob-Boss!Dom!Aizawa x Masochist!Sub!femreader Words:3.2+

Summary: When your life is threatened Aizawa realized just how important you are to him. A small fight leaves you bend over the couch, cross eyes and leads to him admitting his feelings for you.

TW: slight mention of torture (a bit more at the end), s&m, controlling Aizawa, calling him sir, knife play (no blood), slight ass and nipple play, orgasm denial, slight oral, biting, spanking, hair pulling, dirty talk, slight bit of degration and teasing

Three month, three weeks and three days. That’s how long it took you to develop positive feelings for him. He gave you everything, but privacy, something you had to learn rather quick because that man was strong and even though he doesn’t look like it, heavy. You told him no twice. The first time left you bruised for at least three days, fucked into oblivion. The second time left you sobbing from his impact play. You hated how little you could control your body, dripping wet before he slipped into you. Something he would love to taunt you with. „Always so quiet and modest. Yet here you are begging to be fucked by a criminal after he spanked you blue and green. Don’t tell me you like that. Tsk, dirty girl,“ he told you with a slight smirk on his face, one hand having a strong hold in your hair to hold you up so he could look at you. The other one pinched and played with clit, milking orgasm after orgasm.

He knew how to work his charm, knew how to impress you. Listened, remembered basically every detail about you. Aizawa wanted to know everything about you, from childhood memories to teenage drama to your goals and dreams. Of course he was genially interested in you, after all he wanted you at his side, but it was also helpful to know one or too secrets. Just in case. It was understandable that he was a bit shocked and also even more alarmed when Shota noticed how fast you adapted to the captive state of yours. There was no attempt of you running away, either because you knew it wouldn’t work with guards everywhere around you, or because you were afraid. So he tested it out. Gave you a car, told you to go enjoy yourself, get pampered for a surprise he had prepared.

First thing you did was getting new underwear because as much as you… appreciated him buying it for you you would like to have a few comfortable pieces that cover more than 3 inches of your skin. You stopped to get a nice drink at a small restaurant, got a small snack before you ended up buying four new plants. A smile creeped up on his face when his phone signaled him he got a new message from Shinso. Attached to it was a picture of you smiling while picking up the most sad looking flower he had ever seen.

It happened while driving back. You realized happiness started to form in your stomach at the thought of seeing him again. Excitement about showing him what you had bought. How could you be happy? After how he treated you in front of so many men, so many strangers. But then again he took care of a man who had sold you for his addiction. You knew he was in the hospital right now, after trying to enter the casino again. At first you thought he was there to get you, to show at least some sort of remorse. Even though their boss told them not to tell you those details Denki let it slip that Kirishima caught him gambling. With that your last string of attachment ripped apart. It wasn’t hard to choose between being left alone with nothing or a slightly questionable man who (as much as you would like to deny it) made you feel good, save and wanted.

That day was the first time he took you to the casino with him, introduced you to a part of his world. The one that was less brutal. He wouldn’t not let you see someone getting tortured. But he knew how gruesome it can get and even though he wouldn’t tell anyone, he threw up after his first time, felt sick the first five. It just made it so much easier to get people to talk. Or make them stop. Sometimes they need to be taught a lesson or too to not put their noses in his businesses.

Rumors started to spread around fast after your first appearance. Shota Aizawa has a trophy wife. Something that made him weak. A pretty one on top of that and she was supposed to be his little lucky charm. Every table you appeared at, the house would win. You didn’t play yourself, you only sat besides your... Well, besides the mob boss himself.

There was no explanation for it really, it wasn’t luck per se. It was math. Some liked math in school, some didn’t. What you liked more though was winning. And games like these were hard to predict, but not impossible. Another aspect were their faces. Everyone focused on their face and those of others, tried to keep cool while detecting a mistake of others that they forgot about other limbs. Some tapped their fingers against the table or cards, others would play with their drink, swirling the ice cubes around without touching it. Some bounced their legs, crossed them, scratched them. Once you caught their mistake it was over for them.

While some got scared because of it, others seemed to find a challenge in it. They wanted to beat you. How could you know that one night you will have the son of another mob boss on the table? He was supposed to be a spy, simply collect information about you and leave. But the opportunity to beat you and therefor Aizawa was too alluring. How could he know that he will lose almost 33 Million yen in one night? And with those 33 Million yen came a big target right on your back.

In less than 24 hours a collection of pictures and informations about you was delivered to Peony. In less than 24 hours your world was turned upside down yet again. The freedom you were given was taken away in order to protect you. His worry for you was understandable but when he decided to have Bakugo and Kirishima on your heels 24/7 you had enough.

--------------------------------------------

„I’m inside the house! The house has walls almost thrice as high as Kirishima’s 7 foot frame, a massive garden with six well trained guard dogs running around. You have the best alarm system there is on the market and still I’m not even allowed to use the bathroom in private. It’s humiliating,“ you explained to him angrily. „I would rather humiliate you than pick up your dead body limp by limp,“ he tried reasoning. „Do you even hear yourself? How can you say something like that? Do you not trust your men? I can defend myself! Eijiro has-„ suddenly you went quiet, realizing too late what gravitating mistake you just that you had just exposed yourself.

„Eijiro has what? Continue doll. I‘m all ears,“ he leaned back against his desk, crossing his arms over his in a black shirt clad chest. „We shouldn‘t be changing the subject now. I need-," „What you need is to tell me what Kirishima did,“ you wouldn‘t be so on edge if he yelled at you, screaming at the top of his lungs, slam his hand on the desk, anything. Instead he was dangerously calm, collected, ready for you to make the next step. Knowing you were trapped like a small mouse between a wall and an awaiting cat, only playing with its fear.

„I will tell you if you promise me he isn‘t going to suffer any consequences. He had no ill intentions,“ you started explaining, making a step forward and trying to look as timid as possible so he will show mercy. „You actually think you‘re in a position to negotiate? Oh darling, it is breaking my heart a tiny bit to see you’re underestimating me,“ he faked a pained expression before closing the gab between the two of you.

You knew better than to relax yourself into his touch as he caressed your cheek, planting a small kiss on your forehead.

„Now,“ Aizawa stood behind you within a second, your wrists in his hand behind your back, something cold against your neck. „Please continue before I lose the small amount of patience that is left inside of me,” he sounded threatening, his voice deep and raspy, mouth dangerously close to your ear lobe. The knife near your aorta send adrenaline through your whole body, your pussy pulsing as you caught sight of your current position in his window.

You noticed his eyes wandering over the curves of your body, as the sound heavy breathing hit your ear. It seems like he was holding back, but be the looks of it all he wanted to do was drag the knife along your clothes and watch it drop to the floor. It wasn’t on purpose, more or less, but your hand brushed against his crotch, hearing him hiss as you touched his hard length for a mere second. The grip on the red handle tightened, pulling your body into his and leading your hand back to his crotch.

Eyes met in the window as he licked his lips. He tilted your head back slightly with the tip of the sharp blade, kissing the spot behind your ear.

„Sorry kitten, but this isn’t the time to play,“ he whispered into your ear while you started massaging him through his suit pants. A smirk appeared on your face as you agreed with him ‚oh I know, sir‘ you basically purred. Within seconds you pulled yourself away from him with your whole strength, bowing as he went to grab your hair and kicking back into his stomach as you turned which send him to the floor as he stumbled. Grabbing the knife from his hand and dropping onto his hips as you held the knife to his throat.

„Eijiro taught me how to defend myself, so I don’t have creepy old men all over me,“ you told him, a sudden wisp of a moan leaving your throat as he grabbed your hips and ground his pelvis against yours. „I didn’t know I’m a creepy old man. Wasn’t it just yesterday that you begged me to stuff you? And wasn’t it you that screamed my name so the whole house could hear who fucks you ‚like a god‘? Hm… I must confuse you with someone else that came cross eyed all over me considering I don’t play with brats,“ as the last word left his mouth he flipped you around, turning you so your stomach was flat against the freshly cleaned floor, hand in between your shoulder blades to hold you down.

He thanked the sun for shining so brightly and the clouds for not appearing, considering it lead to you dressed in the shortest little sundress you could find in your closet. The color suited you so damn well and the dress made it so easy for him to uncover your ass. His hungry eyes starred at it in its full glory, feeling his rock hard cock to twitch in his pants.

The blade was dragged across your skin and he could have fucked you right then and there as he noticed how you tried to clench your legs, goose bumps appearing on your skin. „Don’t tell me you enjoy this, such a dirty girl,“ he stopped right at the hem of your underwear, dragging the flat side across your clit and earning another moan of yours. He chuckled, „I see.“

Suddenly the blade was back at your throat, his other hand massaging your ass. „If you try to move or forget to thank me I might have to use the sharp side next time and we don’t want that do we doll?“ Shota asked you, the tip slightly pressed onto your sweet spot as you took to long to reply for his liking. „No sir,“ your voice was slightly shaky as the anticipation inside of you grew. „Not so tough anymore, thought so,“ he loved your submissive state, every time he thought he went too far you were there dripping wet for him.

Without a warning his hand came down hard on your ass, massaging your cheek before disappearing again. „Thank you sir,“ you moaned, the next slap delivered right after. „Thank you sir,“ you said again, feeling our wetness slowly seeping through the thin fabric covering your cunt. Every once in a while he would dip his fingers between your folds, playing with your clit until you’re about to cum, only to stop and spank you again.

Once your ass was a bright red and noticeable handprints adorned your flesh he decided he had enough. The last few thank you’s gave away that you started crying softly, maybe slightly caused by the pain, but more at fault definitely were the denied orgasms.

„Had time to overthink your statement from earlier?“ Aizawa went down to your ass, pushing your panties to the side and dragging his tongue across your slit, dipping inside for a second to collect some of your juice. Kisses were plastered across your abused skin, bitting down onto it to hear you moan again.

„I give you ten seconds to go over to my couch, get undressed and bend over it,“ if you weren’t so incredibly needy right now you might even had begged for some more spanks.

You could hear him get undressed as you did the same, back turned to him to allow him a nice view on your behind.

You could feel his presence even before he touched you, the smell of his cologne mixed with his sweat hitting your nose. Rough hands collided with your ass once more, before wandering up your back, one finding its way into your hair, the other one holding his thick girth in his hand and dragging it from your clit to your hole. You whined as you noticed him going back down again with his tip, which lead to him plunging into your throbbing pussy all at once. Curses tumbled from the both of you, finally getting what you wanted.

Shota pulled you up by your hair, allowing his hand to play with chest. Cold metal came in contact with your nipples and only now did you realize that he had brought the knife with him. It took maybe a minute for your first orgasm to hit, considering the ones you were denied earlier had you on edge already. „Done already kitten? Does that mean you want me to stop?“ He knew it meant everything but. It’s just, having you beg for more gets him every time and he can’t deny how powerful it made him feel, which he needed now more than ever. „No, fuck. Please sir, need mo-oh, more,“ a moan cut through you as a single thrust hit your g-spot directly.

„Take it then,“ he pulled you down with him on the couch, his back against the backrest as you straddled his legs. Do to the new position his cock was even deeper than before and you were shaking with almost every bounce as you went up and down on him. Black eyes wandered from your face to your tits to your cunt, watching him disappear inside of you over and over again. Aizawa’s arms wandered from its resting place back to your body, one going to your back, the other one staying in the front.

You hissed, eyes growing wide as you felt rough fingers circling your puckering hole, while the other ones drew lazy patterns on your clit. Every now and then he would meet your movements, burying himself even deeper inside of you. By now you were a moaning mess, clenching around him as you could feel another knot building up in the pit of your stomach. „It’s alright, I got you. You can cum, I know you want to,“ Shota groaned, picking up the speed of his fingers and watching in pure bliss as you came undone once again, slowing down and pulling you into a deep kiss.

As you went to get up from him, your body now sensitive he grabbed your hips, pushing you down again. „Just because you’re on top doesn’t mean you get to control when we’re done,“ he said, delivering a harsh slip to the left side of your tits, before grabbing your throat and pushing you down into the mating press. „You have to remember your place doll. I get decide when we’re finished and I’m not done yet,“ he grunted, snapping his hips as the hand around you held you in place firmly. A warning slap heated up your tears stained cheek when you tried to wiggle away from him and he felt you clenching around his dick.

You looked so good with mascara running down your face, he thought, feeling himself getting closer and closer as you moaned his name like some sort of prayer. „Again, please,“ you said, feeling the third high coming. It took him a second to understand what you asked for, but when it finally clicked he cursed under his breath, telling you how perfect you are. As he slapped you again, holding your face in his hand and kissing your lips hotly you were holding onto his arm for dear life. Stars appeared in front your eyes as you came once again. You barely noticed anything but his thrusts turning sloppy before he released himself inside of you, buried deep and painting your insides white.

„I didn’t know pain turned you on so much,“ he said with a lazy smile on his face, looking down on your face, your embarrassed expression hardly hidden. „Me neither to be honest… You know how it went in the past,“ you hinted at your unsatisfied sex life with your ex husband, who thought doggy style was already pretty kinky. No shame to vanilla people, but now you knew it wasn’t what you wanted. „It’s good to know, we will test out more things in the future,“ the thought of it turned you on again already and you kissed his chest, letting him know you like the sound of that idea.

„I love you, you know?“ He mumbled as the two of you laid on the couch while drawing patterns on your back lazily. Your heart skipped a bit, this was the first time Aizawa mentioned his feelings for you. „You don’t gotta say it back, I know it’s all a bit messy,“ he said, kissing your forehead. „No, it’s just… After sex the mind is always bit-,“ „Yours might be after that but mine is as clear as ever,“ he cut you off, making you roll your eyes and laugh gently. „I love you too,“ it was mumbled, almost unnoticeable, but he heard you just fine which was all he needed.

————————————- Extra—————————————-

„I run this town. Piss me off again and your wife will find out about your little affair with your little lover boy. She’s pregnant, right? And you would like to be able to care for her don’t you? If so, I suggest you to never threaten my wife or my men ever again. It won’t just be your finger that I cut off, understood?“ He knew killing him off immediately will only cause war. He would win, of course, but it would be unnecessary and taking too much of his energy. „Yes Mister Aizawa,“ the hatred and fear in his eyes pleased him enough for the day, so he walked out of the room, ordering Bakugo to drop him off a few miles away from everyone. A nice nightly walk might clear his head he explained so the man bound to the chair could hear him just fine. „Don’t worry, I will let you keep your finger, but you should hurry, they turn bad fast,“ with that he went into the dark, ready to get home to you.

©kirishoshego//do not repost on any plattforms

#Shota Aizawa smut #aizawa smut #bnha smut #mha smut #bnha aizawa smut #bnha shota aizawa smut #mha shota aizawa smut #shota smut #aizawa x reader smut #aizawa x y/n smut #aizawa x you smut #shota aizawa smut #shota aizawa x you smut #shota aizawa x reader smut #shota aizawa x y/n smut #aizawa x you #aizawa x reader #aizawa x y/n #bnha x reader smut #bnha x y/n smut #bnha x you smut #bnha aizawa x reader smut #bnha aizawa x y/n smut #bnha aizawa x you smut #mha aizawa x you smut #mha aizawa x y/n smut #mha aizawa x reader smut #bnha shota aizawa x you smut #bnha shota aizawa x reader smut #bnha shota aizawa x y/n smut

[redspiderling]

I’m seeing comments that Taskmaster was the “worst MCU villain” and that the twist fell flat. I thought it tied well into Natasha’s arc. I can understand TM fans not liking the change, but there are a lot of dumb takes too. Saying that the climax inadequately showed Nat washing her hands clean, or that she had already “gotten over” it before. Even though Nat is so haunted by regret that she later throws herself off a cliff? Why does this movie go straight over some people’s heads?

Hiya anon!

Well, there's a few reasons why people can have these reactions, and not interpret the film as it was meant to. Some reasons are more innocent than others.

For example, Marvel did push the whole "Taskmaster will appear" message while promoting this film. We know they did this to hook in a very specific crowd. I find their frustration understandable because Taskmaster is a minor character, compared to the Russian family.

I don't understand though what those people's expectations were. This movie isn't called Taskmaster. It's called Black Widow. Natasha is going to be the main character. Even if Taskmaster was closer to the comic book version his role wouldn't have more prominence, or development, in the film. Everyone was saying that this movie was going to be a tribute to Natasha Romanoff, so, what gives?

I found the twist very satisfying. I don't see how that was "Natasha washing her hands clean". Just because the girl survived, doesn't mean that Natasha didn't make the choice to sacrifice her life. If I shoot a person and they survive, I'll still be put to trial as an attempted murderer. Natasha's decision allowed Draykov to turn his own daughter into a mindless tool. All Natasha got, was a moment to look her past action in the eyes, acknowledge the brutality of them, and apologise to another victim. Because they were both victims of the same system.

In regards to how this movie sits in reference to Endgame: It undoes a lot of it. Natasha's emotional state in Endgame would realistically be different if she had gone through the soul-searching adventure of Black Widow beforehand.

Even if her entire Russian family had been dusted she'd just be even more determined to fix the world, she wouldn't despair, and she wouldn't have looked so abandoned. Because the Natasha of Endgame was broken not by the events of Infinity War, but by the resignation of the surviving Avengers- they were the ones who left her alone to shoulder that burden.

Finally, while I rarely acknowledge the scene in Vormir as anything other than moronic and completely unnecessary, I do need to make this point clear:

Natasha didn't sacrificed herself because she thought herself unworthy. Marvel sacrificed Natasha because they thought she deserved it.

Natasha loves her people deeply, and she is just that strong, and that brave, and that heroic, that she could just run towards death without a thought and without a hint of fear. And Cate showed us that in Black Widow, where she made her jump off one crazy spot after another, when she literally jumped into nothing to save Yelena. Of course, Cate is smart and she brought Natasha back to us after each and every crazy jump. Because a character doesn't have to fucking die to prove that they're heroes.

Finally, this movie goes straight over people's heads for a lot of reasons.

For one thing, people are used to the male gaze, and focused on the wrong things. Like whether the human trafficker gets enough of a development to make us feel something when he dies for example. And then when the movie disregards that character like the bastard that he is, and just blows him to smithereens, they're disappointed because they're like "hang on, you just killed him off before I had a chance to bond with the lad!". And to them, that's a flaw.

Another issue is that Marvel movies tend to be very clear about who you're fighting against. It makes it easier when a villain has a face, you know? Even CAWS had enough baddies to make us direct our anger to specific characters (like Rumlow, Pierce, Zola, Sitwell), while the actual enemy was an organisation/system in place.

So when Black Widow comes along, viewers who are used to the system above are confused. Because if Yelena isn't bad, and if the Widows aren't bad, and if Taskmaster isn't bad, who is?

Our patriarchal, sexist society. That's who. The mentality that creates men like Draykov, who think of women as commodities. And how can you possibly show them as villains, when they're literally all around us?

You don't. You focus on the women, and how we deal with that pain. This movie was about people who were damaged by a fucked up system. And the movie itself couldn't offer a solution to fix the system. It could only give us the satisfaction of watching a trafficker get blown up, and the relief of watching those women free themselves from that hell. It showed us that there is hope in surviving. It gave us back what Endgame took away.

Anyway, to chose off this rant, don't be upset anon. I mean, there are people out there who, to this day, think Endgame was one of the best movies of all time. Rotten Tomatoes has it rated at like, 95%. Some people are just interested in the surface of things, and the rest of us just have to accept it. Enjoy our moment of vindication, remind yourself that Natasha's living her best life, hopefully stay away from twitter, and all will be well.

#asks #anons #Black Widow Spoilers #Black Widow #the joy of ranting away about the black widow movie #man I could go on forever this is nothing #I don't think I've thanked Cate today #THANK YOU CATE

[madeyoumyvillain]

Although I say I love Aleksander because he's hot and evil and sexy,this man genuinely makes me tear up. I love him. No,you don't get it. I love him. I have immense respect for this man and how driven and determined he is even at his worst. He deserved better,and this is a hill I'm willing to be buried alive on.

The fact that when he was a child,who was almost murdered by children his own age, decided to make this world a better place for others like him so NO ONE has to go through that,is said to be his "villain origin story" is so fucked up.

Respectfully,that's not a villain. That's a child who knows nothing but fear. Fear of living. Fear of being caught. Fear of disappointing his mother. Fear of not living upto his potential. Fear of forgetting his own name. This child was almost murdered by his own kind,but it did not make him angry. It made him understand. It made him realise that the helplessness of his people is the reason why they take such desperate measures. And he promises himself that he will make sure no other person his kind has,no matter how weak or strong,will ever go through the same circumstances. This isn't a villain origin story,it's the birth of a revolutionary, tired of being scared of merely existing.

Alot of people in this fandom say Aleksander is a fascist. Who's gonna tell them that a man fighting against the majority who allow his people to be murdered is not a stand-in for Hitler? He is the oppressed minority here,not the oppressor. He's not the one killing innocent people for existing. (Read a book,y'all)

The Grishas face state sanctioned violence,are sold as slaves, treated like lab rats and experimented on,burned at stakes like witches for simply existing. And Aleksander is a man who's seen centuries of this. He is someone who's fighting wars on three different fronts. This man is the only one in those books trying to break the status quo and bring down the monarchy. If you stop siding with the oppressed minority just because their methods don't fit into your boxes,you are siding with the oppressor. Of course he's going to be brutal,he did not turn into what he is in a single day. He was a child who strived for peace and centuries later,he's an immortal who's tired of fighting the "right way". He is the only person who fought for the Grishas. Alina joined hands with the same monarchy that ignored the violence against Grishas and Nikolai is pretty much the woke,white saviour,a product of the same monarchy. Even if it's called The Grisha Triology,it's heavily anti-Grisha and does nothing to ease their suffering. The narrative that "killing=bad" is shoved down our throats multiple times. In itself,it's a pretty centrist take. Aleksander was NOT a supremacist,he was NOT a fascist. They did not care about his motives,they just saw him as evil because those methods didn't cater to their ideals. So they killed him,destroyed the Fold,one piece of protection for the Grishas and called it a day. What about Shu Han experimenting on Grishas, Fjerda burning them on stakes and Kerch selling them as slaves? Bad guy gone,Fold gone,time to fulfill my cottagecore dreams<3 Also,Zoya becoming the Queen of Ravka doesn't solve anything. Assuming this gives off the same vibes as "Oh,a Black President,racism solved!!!" NO. Girlboss-ifying Zoya isn't the answer, especially when people have such strong hatred towards Grishas. It needs to be eradicated from the grass root level and will take years to happen.

The flashback in the show,where the king's soldiers repeatedly shoot arrows at him no matter how many times he told them he did not want to harm them and then seeing Luda being killed immediately while he kept on begging,makes his behaviour totally understandable. "But there has to be another way,right?" Try telling this to the centuries old man who has used any method possible. Served several kings and won them wars to get on their good side hoping it would make things easier for his people. His methods are shown to be brutal now because he's been trying for a long time and nothing else worked.

Given the present day scenario and minorities all over the world facing systemic oppression and their lives being threatened, Aleksander did NOTHING wrong. We can take into account the BLM and Stop Asian Hate movements. If you do not fit into their boxes of activism and protests,they claim you're the wrong ones. They do not work for your betterment,but they keep on demonizing you and belittling your cause. In the same way, Aleksander was leading a rebellion against the persecutors,while the Good Ones™ only cared about his methods and reminding us how evil he is, not giving a single fuck about his motives,or the geopolitical situation. At the end of the day,they win. Because it's easy to kill the rebel,easier than helping him in his cause and taking away the suffering of his people. If Alina and the rest of them really wanted to be the heroes of this story then they shouldn't have made killing the only man who gave Grisha a sanctuary and was trying to improve their situation as their main goal if they were going to do nothing after their woke victory moment. I have absolutely no idea how they're going to acknowledge racism against Grishas in the show and kill the only person striving to stop it without recieving backlash for it.

TL;DR: If a revolutionary man came to me, asking for help to make this world a better place for OUR people,stop their oppression and bring down the ones who use our people for their benefit but do not bat a fucking eyelash when they're killed,I would've helped him. No matter how evil or corrupted I'm being framed as. RIP to Alina Starkov,but I'm built different. (I'll also like to fuck him but we're talking about serious stuff rn and y'all already know I'm a whore for him)

#yes #i can use my braincells #i can make my ramblings make sense #or maybe not #forget all of that #i love Aleksander Morozova #and no anti #or author #can make me stop loving him #he's a freedom fighter #antis read a book how tf can an opressed minority be hitler just how #shadow and bone #the darkling #ben barnes #the grishaverse #aleksander morozova #general kirigan #the grisha series #I'll definitely add more to this in the future #i have OPINIONS #im just lazy #btw im not excusing the shit he did to zoya genya alina and nikolai #before someone attacks #didn't realise how long this got #lmao #im UNHINGED today💅🏼

[strawberrysoup]

Pocketful of Posies || Chapter 5

You’d been hiding for years and years now; from your family, from society, from alphas and packs. Suppressants were dangerous but effective and necessary for an omega who refused to be owned—but no suppressants were strong enough to fool the nose of a super soldier, who together with his pack would stop at nothing to bind you to them forever.

pairings: dark!Avengers x reader

word length: 4.7k

chapters: 5/?

warnings: A/B/O dynamics, power imbalances, noncon and dubcon sexual situations, loss of autonomy, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat — this is a dark!fic, read at your own risk. more detailed content warnings are included at the end of the chapter to avoid spoilers, click through the read more, CTRL + F “content warnings”. 

Rationality within Carol’s pack was often treated like a talking stick; only one person could have and use it at a time, and stealing it required either brute force or a clever trick—which was why she and Loki fumbled it back and forth so often. Sam seemed to have snatched it for a moment, until their omega’s sharp tongue made him fumble. She was cutting and brutal, as wild as she’d looked the first time Carol saw her: covered in mud and blood, half soaked from the bath and thrashing violently while Thor and Peter tried to gently get her in the tub.

The blonde figured it was time to regain the upper hand over their omega and came to stand at the top of the stairs, eyes locking on Sam from behind. He was turning the corner from patience to frustration, their little omega’s demeaning comments making the muscle in his jaw clench. It was impressive though; any of the other alpha’s in the house (plus herself and maybe minus Peter) would’ve had her nose in the corner by now, bent over to hold her own ankles and struggling for balance so that her forehead didn’t press against the wall lest she earn herself a spanking for being sulky.

“Alright Sammy, tag out,” Carol made sure that there was an undertone of mirth in her voice, hoping to bring the other alpha out of his anger. “You should probably go check on dinner and—Bruce, test results?”

“Oh, you’re right,” the beta nodded, immediately headed for the stairs. “Her hormone analysis should be ready at the least.”

The moment her eyes landed on the little omega on the bed, Carol felt her heart melt just a bit. Despite the vitriol she’d been spitting just moments before, the precious thing looked like an angel sprawled out in their den. All she wore was one of Thor’s t-shirts, the hem brushing the tops of her thighs and perfuming her scentless skin with his musk—she couldn’t wait until the suppressants were out of their omega’s system, Carol desperately wanted to know what she smelled like.

“Sammy?” The blonde prompted when the male alpha didn’t move, leading him to sigh.

“Yeah babe,” he leaned over and pressed a kiss against the omega’s forehead, ignoring how she shrunk back into the pillows behind her. “I’m out. Take care of her, beautiful.”

Sam stopped to press a kiss against Carol’s cheek on his way down the stairs, gesturing for Tony to follow. The genius rolled his eyes and huffed but followed nonetheless, only after tossing a wink at the scowling omega huddled in what would hopefully soon be a nest. Carol waited until they were both down before returning her attention to the younger woman, stomach filling with butterflies.

Carol had wanted an omega since she presented as an alpha at twelve. 90% of the people she interacted with thought she was such a waste—a female alpha? Objectively, a useless combination. Female alphas were weak and passive, certainly not strong enough to lead a pack or produce strong alpha babies. If only she’d been a delta or a beta, she could’ve at least carried children. She’d always been fully aware that society’s perspective was incredibly flawed; she was as dominant as any male, just as potent and just as strong. Stronger even—more recently by unimaginable levels.

But omegas rarely looked negatively upon female alphas. Omegas preened and clamored for the attention female alphas provided, they saw it as more tender and careful. Carol didn’t know if she exactly agreed with that either, but at least an omega would never look at her and consider her a very pretty waste.

Or so the blonde had thought, right up until making eye contact with the sweet-faced omega her pack had managed to stumble upon. She certainly didn’t look pleased, her glare verging on incendiary.

“You sure are feisty,” she felt her lips quirking at the corners, especially when the omega seemed to puff up like an angry kitten. “What you said to Sam wasn’t very nice. You gonna hiss at me too?”

The answer was a resounding yes, the cute, clicking cub growl she made only reinforcing Carol’s gut instinct that the little omega was perfect. She liked that fire, it wasn’t disrespectful—it demanded respect and the blonde could certainly understand that sort of attitude. Considering her omega’s evident disdain for modern presentation centered care, it could even be considered mild.

“Claws away, baby,” she ordered, tone amused and the smile still curling her lips as she toed her shoes off at the edge of the bed. “Be a good girl for me now.”

Carol pressed the omega flat to the bed before she could fight, plastering herself against the half-naked woman and burying her face in the crook of her neck. Scenting deeply made the blonde’s eyes roll back in her head—the faint scent of panicking omega wafted off her skin, only noticeable at such a distance. Thank God the Hulk picked it up, the alpha’s senses so incredibly strong that even while masked by Bruce’s beta he had picked up the faint whiff of omega; if Bruce hadn’t prompted Steve to scent carefully they might not’ve found her. Carol hadn’t been the only one in the pack desperate for an omega.

Thor had been… devastated to learn of the lack of omegas on Earth. With the destruction of Asgard and the remaining population’s relocation, it had been another gut punch to the alpha prime who’s people had already endured so much. He’d spoken at length about how omega Aesir were different than humans’ and the tone of longing and sadness in the prime had radiated through their entire pack.

The deltas, Bucky, Tony and Loki had all realized years ago how sorely their dynamic suffered without an omega. A delta’s overwhelming physiological drive was to provide support and comfort to pack members, their intuition let them see their packmates in a way the other presentation’s couldn’t replicate. Their pack’s deltas were all incredibly intuitive, beyond the norm, and without an omega to properly direct them they got manipulative. It was rarely antagonistic or cruel and if there had only been one delta in the pack, it would’ve slid by without notice—but deltas perceived the deception where others didn’t and it usually led to dissent amongst the three.

And while Steve had never said a word, Carol knew that as a sickly little beta he’d dreamt of being ‘strong enough to deserve an omega’. Bucky had mentioned it briefly—as had Tony, who’d heard it from his father at least biweekly. Steve loved omegas; he loved that they balanced an incredible strength with equal fragility. The very nature of them spoke to his inner artist, ‘his inner romantic,’ Bucky had teased. Now that he was a big ass alpha prime? He could deserve an omega now, he was strong enough now.

Their omega was practically a miracle, considering how few of them there were—so few adults, especially. Some claimed the overall population of omegas was going up despite the overwhelming evidence of the opposite and besides, the number of omegas born every year didn’t matter when you had packmates approaching their mid-forties. Tony, Bruce, and Clint were getting up there, as everyone liked to tease. Finding a reasonably aged omega that was also unclaimed? They’d never even considered the possibility, it was unfathomable.

Carol had consoled herself with the knowledge that her pack loved her deeply, found no fault in her gender or presentation. She knew it would take time, but soon her omega would realize the same. There was nothing wrong with her, she didn’t need to hide or put on a façade; not in their pack, not under their protection. Whatever the omega had gone through in her life must’ve been traumatizing, the blonde could only assume some sort of abuse, and it would be tough to instill confidence in her. They’d need to build her back up from scratch.

“You know, if you’d let Wanda search your mind, we’d have a much easier time understanding what’s going on,” the blonde murmured into the omega’s neck, nose brushing back and forth over her left scent gland. “Will you tell me why you’re so scared? Are you afraid of alphas or of packs? Or deltas?”

“I’m afraid of being trapped forever by a bunch of fucking rapists and kidnappers!” She spat furiously in response, struggling futilely under Carol’s careful grasp. “Get your fucking face out of my neck!”

“Packs it is then,” Carol sighed, lifting her head but keeping the woman pinned beneath her.

“You’re so shifty ‘mega, calm down. There are some horrible people out there, we know that better than anyone, and I’m sorry that you were hurt. I’m sorry you had to go through whatever it was.”

The omega froze, muscles pulling so tightly that she started to shiver. Her lips pursed, jaw clenching and her eyes got dim, lashes fluttering as she looked into the distance over Carol’s shoulder. It was a dead-eyed stare, one the blonde had seen before. Her baby was half trapped in a memory, tightly clenched hands clawing at Carol’s shirt and trying to force her body away.

“I’m sorry baby, I’m sorry, come back—” Carol cooed into the omega’s ear, holding her tighter as she struggled. “You’re with me baby, you’re safe. Breathe with me, come back to me.”

“Would you fucking get off!” The omega choked, sounding both parts desolate and frustrated. “Why don’t you people fucking listen? Am I speaking gibberish?”

“I’m sorry you’re so angry omega,” the blonde’s eyebrows furrowed, sadness permeating her expression as she lowered her head to rest her forehead against the omega’s. “I’m sorry, I can’t get off—you need the pheromones, the alpha contact chemicals. Even if you’re traumatized, once the suppressants you’re on start to wear off you’re going to have to submit. We need to start practicing now so you can get comfortable with it, before it’s critical for your health.”

“Stop saying you’re sorry, you’re not sorry! If you were, you would’ve let me go. You wouldn’t be holding me here! I don’t need or want your help, I don’t want to be in a pack!”

“I hear you, baby, I promise I understand what you’re saying,” Carol carefully pinned one of the flailing omega’s arms down with her knee, reaching up to stroke the woman’s face. “You don’t want to be here, you don’t want to have a pack, I’m sure you don’t want to be bonded to us. But you’re on so many suppressants baby, there are so many mind-altering chemicals in the shit you were taking—”

“If you force me to stop taking them I’ll only be under the ‘mind-altering’ chemicals produced by the other presentations and—and this stupid collar forcing my body to produce addictive chemicals at a rapid rate,” she argued, “you want to argue that I’m out of my mind like I can’t be trusted with my own safety! I’m fully conscious, I’m not stupid, I’m an adult for fuck’s sake. The only thing that’s going to fuck up my personal agency is you!”

“We’ll know for sure when Bruce gets your test results back,” Carol sighed realizing how unlikely it would be for her to get through to the omega. “Tony’s having some equipment dropped by in the morning so he and Bruce can run some more. If your hormone levels aren’t entirely trashed, we’ll revisit this conversation.”

“You have to let me take my suppressants tonight then,” the omega pushed against the blonde again, grunting with effort and irritation when she didn’t move at all. “Otherwise the test results from today won’t match the ones tomorrow, missing a dose will entirely trash my hormone levels! The tests won’t provide an accurate reading!”

Carol was shaking her head before she’d even finished the explanation. “No way, there’s a reason those are illegal, baby. They’re so dangerous—”

“I’ve been taking them for fifteen years and I’m completely fine, come on—”

She watched the omega’s face fall when she sighed, “it’s not gonna happen baby. This one isn’t up for debate.”

“This one?” The omega scoffed bitterly, lips twisting as angry tears collected in her eyes. “Nothing is ‘up for debate’. I’m here, aren’t I? Obviously against my will. I’m not even wearing my own clothes, you won’t let me move! You’re acting like this is the one bit of agency you’re planning to strip from me but you’re either too stupid to realize that or you’re too caught up in the idea of having a house bitch to care!”

“Hey, don’t say that,” Carol frowned, thumb smoothing over the crease between her brows. “We’re not looking to ruin your life, baby. The last thing we want is to make you meek or take away your ability to make your own choices, but we have to take care of you.”

“Y-you don’t though,” she hissed, breath hitching as she fought not to cry in front of the alpha. “I’ve been taking care of-of myself for years. I’ve never had a problem I’ve—I’ve never been attacked or assaulted or—”

Carol shifted until the omega was cradled in her lap, easily blocking the omega’s attempts to escape her grasp, “If that’s true baby girl, I don’t think you understand how rare it is—or how it would mean you were poisoning yourself so thoroughly that no alpha could scent you. There’s too many people out there would hurt you just for being you; the only way for you to be safe is with us, where you don’t have to keep taking the pill equivalent of drinking gasoline and bleach.”

“I should have the choice!”

“The choice to slowly kill yourself?” The blonde looked down into the omega’s face in disbelief. “No one in their right mind would allow another person to suffer like that.”

Their attention was suddenly and brutally drawn to the stairwell, both of their hindbrains reacting to the scent of overwhelmingly aroused alphas accompanied by raised voices and shouting. The omega in her lap went completely and utterly still, instincts locking down all movement as if it could prevent her from being seen. Carol sighed quietly through her nose, nudging her forehead gently against the charming little creature hiding against her chest. She couldn’t really tell what they were yelling about but she figured it had something to do with whatever Bruce found.

“Someone has to—!”

“That doesn’t mean—!”

“It should be—!”

The blonde cracked her neck, arms slipping around the waist of her omega and locking in place like iron bands. The cowering made it easier for Carol to snuggle her tightly against her chest, wiggling them carefully as several pairs of feet began stomping up the stairs, until the omega was entirely engulfed by the alpha from behind. Steve and Thor made it up first, shoulder to shoulder and passive-aggressively nudging each other in the ribs. Sam was next, along with Bucky—both of whom were being decidedly antagonistic to poor Peter who followed behind.

“Would you guys shut the hell up? What’s going on?”

Before anyone else could respond Bruce forced his way between the group of more dominant males, eyes flashing green even as he attempted to shake it off, “the amount of alpha pheromone in her blood is so low it’s amazing she isn’t in shock.”

“What?!” The omega snapped furiously, eyes darting between the people standing around the room nervously. “There’s nothing wrong with me—!”

“Carol, hold her,” Steve ordered, as if the blonde hadn’t locked the omega down the second they heard them coming. “Thor, how are we gonna do this?”

Both primes looked almost pained, their faces painted with grimaces as they exchanged glances. Their struggle was easy to identify; neither wanted to cause any strife between them, damage to their partnership would damage the pack but they wanted to be first. Their hindbrains could barely function beyond the desire to fuck their omega, their pretty, sweet little omega who desperately needed alpha semen because her body would stop functioning without it. Primes always got first take on omegas, but when there were two primes in a pack things got dicey.

“Have one of us do it,” Carol chimed, carefully maintaining an expression that relayed she wasn’t trying to step on toes. “Both of you are massive, you could do damage without proper prep and if it’s that serious we can’t wait on that.”

“I’ll do it!” Peter was quick to step forward. “You all know I’ll the gentlest and she’s already upset—”

“Shut it Spiderboy,” Sam quickly interjected, giving the younger alpha a stern look, “she needs careful handling, not some teenager fumbling with his knot.”

“I’m not a teenager anymore you asshole—!”

“Carol’s cock is the smallest,” Tony stated nonchalantly as he kicked off his shoes in the closet that faced the den, “no offense babe, just logistics.”  

“None taken,” the blonde snorted slightly in amusement before turning her attention to the two primes, “I can get her started, at least get her hormones on the right track.”

“Let go of me you psycho!” The omega howled, voice constricted by her collar. “Get away from me, let me go!”

A low, bone-deep rumble suddenly washed over everyone in the attic, the growl emanating from both Steve and Thor. A keening moan escaped the omega, her breath hitching and eyes rolling as viscous slick gushed from her pussy. The scent of it made waves through the rest of the pack, a cacophony of moans and growls echoing off the high ceiling as the responding scent of hot and bothered emanated through the den.

“Thor?” Steve questioned the other prime imploringly, knowing that they needed an immediate answer and follow through.

The taller man grit his teeth, nose flaring for several moments before he let out another low growl that made their omega cry with arousal. “You first—leave my shirt on her, please.”

“Oh God, oh God,” the whimpering omega shifted in Carol’s arms, likely about to try to make a break for it when Steve swept her up into his arms. “Please, wait—!”

“Your pussy is dripping for your primes, isn’t it precious?” The alpha male hummed quietly as he swiftly lowered them both to the bed, hands grasping the backs of her thighs and pressing her knees towards her shoulders. “So much slick for such a little thing.”

The whine that came from Peter sounded wrecked, only minutely more embarrassing than the groans and panting coming from the rest of the pack as they watched. The omega looked to be approaching frantic and Carol sighed, shifting farther away from the prime on the bed—there was no reason to test Steve’s incredible patience. Well, that had been Carol’s opinion anyway.

Evidently Loki believed otherwise, but then again the delta was habitually prone to testing Steve’s last goddamn nerve. The brunet had appeared with a shimmering green light, lying on the bed so close to the omega that the scent from his ridiculously expensive Fendi sweater was transferring to her arm and shoulder. The prime had barely flinched, certainly hadn’t reacted in a manner more noticeable than a slight dilation in his pupil. Thor made a reprimanding noise but didn’t move forward to remove the delta, much to Bucky and Tony’s immediate disdain.

“Why the fuck does he get to—!”

“You better rethink that, Ice Man!”

The combined snarls from both primes quickly brought all three deltas to heel and while Loki didn’t retreat, he did keep his hands to himself. One hand propped up his head, the other tightly fisted and rested on the bed between himself and the omega’s borrowed shirt while eyes burned into him from all sides. The omega’s wide eyes were locked on the man, some flicker of recognition fleetingly passing over her face. Loki was good at surprise entrances and even better at taking advantage of his brother’s status in the pack—not that he necessarily got away with things the others wouldn’t, but none of the others particularly wanted to find out what the prime’s breaking point was either.

“I just want to keep her calm, is that so horrible?” The tone the God used was smooth and Carol remembered the talking stick analogy again. “You can smell the poor thing’s terror, is it really necessary?”

Steve looked conflicted for maybe two seconds when a light went off behind his eyes. “Keep her calm so I don’t have to purr and you can stay.”

The delta’s hand immediately slipped up the front of her shirt, cupping the curve of her rib cage just under her breast. His nose pressed into her neck in the following moments, a small golden glow flowing over the little omega’s skin where he touched her. The odor of fear was quick to recede once the windows were open, replaced with the tangy-sweet scent of her pussy. Carol inhaled sharply and whined, drawing Steve’s attention to her wide, sad eyes.

The prime huffed, running one big hand through his hair while Loki held the omega’s thigh in place. “Hands to yourself, Carol.”

The blonde immediately tucked her nose into the other side of the omega’s neck, hands clenched into fists and tucked tightly against her stomach. She could hear the rest of the pack shuffling around, vying for space and views on the bed. Steve seemed entirely unbothered, his gaze once again locked on the pretty omega’s.

“Is your cunt working your slick hard enough precious?” He murmured directly into her ear, lips brushing the skin gently. “If those muscles aren’t strong enough we might have to put in a bit more effort to stretch you out. Squeeze around my fingers baby.”

Carol’s eyes rolled back when a breathy whine escaped the omega, the only perceivable reaction that might’ve betrayed her fear—otherwise, whatever magic Loki had used made her eyes shine with bliss. Steve had two fingers knuckle deep in her cunt, still pressing forward while his slick coated thumb swept up through her folds to pass over her clit. She shook under the grasp of his packmates, hips shifting without her consent to follow the movement of his hand.

“Come on sweetheart, please?” Steve implored quietly, looking at the loosely pinned omega with soft eyes. “Clench your pussy for me, let me take care of you. Please, I—oh, there you go, that’s a good girl.”

He hummed, working his fingers deeper into her cunt and scissoring them carefully. A smile lit the prime’s face when the cutest hiccupping moan escaped the omega, her legs pressing futilely against his hold. Muscle memory tried to guide her legs closed but Carol easily slipped a hand around her knee, keeping her spread wide while Steve continued to stretch her pussy. Another bass toned growl from Thor reverberated off the walls and she wailed, slick dripping over Steve’s fingers while her pussy contracted in waves as commanded by the prime’s guttural growl.

“I’m gonna take care of you precious,” her low whine prompted a moan from Steve as he added a third finger, carefully pressing the pads of his fingers up against her g-spot. “You’ll feel so much better once we fuck you, I promise.”

Carol watched with heavily lidded eyes as the omega’s attention was sparked by Steve’s use of the collective we. Likely it was only Loki’s magic that kept her from lashing out as viciously as they knew she was capable of. In spite of it, her little teeth showed, sharp incisors flashing in a botched hiss. The prime poised himself over her carefully with a small grin, fingers still fucking into her with vigor while he rested his weight on his elbow next to her head.

“It’s gonna be okay omega, it’s gonna be okay,” he cooed quietly against her ear, removing his hand only to pull his cock from his pants. “Take deep breaths, baby.”

“Don’t—” She didn’t sound distressed, the omega sounded aroused and desperate, “I—”

“Shhhh,” the prime’s lips skimmed over her cheeks, down her nose while his hand guided his dick up and down her slick folds until he was dripping with her arousal. “I’m gonna take care of you, precious. We’re gonna take care of you.”

The sound that escaped the omega’s lips as he slipped into her was goosebump inducing in the best way. She whined as the head popped in, breath hitching with every millimetre that came thereafter—and there were a lot of them. The omega was squirming, her heels scrambling against the blankets and both Loki and Carol found themselves having to focus much harder than expected on keeping her still while Steve bottomed out.

“You’re doing so well, darling,” Loki cooed, his nose brushing the line of her jaw. “I know it’s a lot but you’re taking it beautifully. Stay still love, just relax we’ll hold you.”

“That’s right ‘mega,” Steve groaned as he withdrew, the squelch of her cunt making his teeth clench. “We’ll do all the work precious, you just have to be a good girl and take my cock.”

It was easier said than done and everyone in the room save Thor was fully aware of that. The omega’s sweet little whines and cries were causing a massive feedback loop of arousal in the pack’s consciousness and Carol was pretty sure she could hear the sounds of several people going at it but she couldn’t pull her gaze away from where Steve’s cock was drilling into that pretty cunt. Evidently said feedback loop was also affecting Steve, who very suddenly growled possessively.

“Carol, Loki, off,” The prime snapped barely hesitating before dropping his elbows into the pillows on either side of the omega’s head, narrowly avoiding giving his pack mates concussions. “Now.”

Both the alpha and the delta were yanked off the bed by their ankles—well, Carol was yanked off the bed. Loki was yanked off the bed and then promptly thrown into the wall by said ankles. The reinforced exterior wall meant there was only a small dent where the god had landed, but the ensuing ruckus had a strong potential of causing even more damage. Thor immediately turned to deal with the problem, along with several other packmates.

Several things occurred in the next few seconds and the pack would probably fight about what really happened for the next twenty years, but somehow Bucky was thrown through the window and Tony’s right ring finger was broken.

And Wanda—poor Wanda, Thor pushed her out of the way before Bucky could accidentally take her through the window with him. The beta was sent flying, sailing across the bed until she hit the unyielding form of Steve. He startled in shock, immediately drawing back to assess her condition—only for a heel to slam directly into his nose. The prime’s head snapped back from the force, big body falling backwards while his hands scrambled for purchase on his face.

The omega probably would’ve even gotten down the stairs if Natasha hadn’t been ascending the stairs at that moment, having heard the commotion from where she and Clint had been putting away groceries. The redhead smelled her before seeing her, a somewhat sinister grin pulling Nat’s lips when the omega ran directly into her while attempting escape #2.

“Now where are you going, kitten? With that mess dripping down your thighs,” the beta cooed, head tilting as she scented the air. “Why can I smell Steve on you, but not his cum?”

There was a horrible, long pause while the omega seemed to consider her options before landing on Go For Broke. She attempted to dodge past Natasha but the beta’s strong arm immediately lashed around her waist, her superior strength making it easy to force her up the stairs even as she refused to hold her own weight.

Steve met them just two steps from the top, dick out and covered in blood. The prime’s expression wasn’t so much angry as it was disappointed and Natasha hummed in false sympathy.

“Someone’s been naughty, huh kitten?”

content warnings: nonconsensual sex, voyeurism 

#avengers x reader #steve rogers x reader #thor x reader #loki x reader #sam wilson x reader #carol danvers x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #clint barton x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #bruce banner x reader #tony stark x reader #bucky barnes x reader #dark!avengers #omegaverse #abo dynamics #will potentially reblog with tags if i remember no promises

[baku-writes]

Omgggg I just love the hawks request you did it was amazing and sooo good imma request something similar to it but with DABI/ Touya todoroki can you do where the reader and Touya as children like yk childhood friends both grew up with parents who abused them and one day Touya was about to get beaten badly in training and the reader took it for them ( timeskip when they learnt Touya died they were absolutely sadand almost suicide? And DABI finds her in time and they just talk and confess? <333 :)

AAAAAA I LOVE THIS IDEA!! Personally, even though Dabi isn't my fav character I love his backstory. I just find it so interesting.

Touya todoroki x gn!reader (mostly children versions so angst and fluff)

TW: Abuse, fake suicide (?), suicidal thoughts, minor bodily injury (mentions of burnt skin, bruises and blood). ANGST, spoilers (?)

Back from the dead

Summary: you and touya todoroki grew up together and were both victims of brutal parenting. However, when you took the punishment for Touya it was the final straw... he wasn't Touya anymore...

Life was difficult.

It always had been.

Your entire life you were told you would be nothing, your parents beat you into submission until no motivation ever sparked within you other than to be what they wanted. They wanted a hero. The next number one, just like allmight. They didn't want another version of endeavor, but a capable young hero who could fight any villain and take them down with ease.

Your parents weren't pro heroes, both were rejected by UA and didn't pass the hero course for any other school. It crushed them. But also drove them to insanity. Everything they had ever worked for in their childhood come crashing down within a short period of their lives, that is how the both met. However, when they had you they saw a sadistic glimmer of hope. Hope that their 'spawn' could do what they couldn't and hope that their child could live out their dream for them.

And so they would train you. And train you. And train you. Until you couldn't walk, talk and sometimes even eat due to exhaustion. But once they realised they could no longer give you any more training boosts due to their lack of experience, they handed you off to the number 2, endeavour. Even though they despised him, if that is what they had to do to make you strong.... they were going to make you do it.

And there you met Touya. A young boy, the same age as you, with aspirations and dreams of becoming the hero his father wanted him to be. However, like your parents, they taught this motivation through sadistic punishments and abusive training.

It was obvious the kid was worn out. Burn scars scorched his arms and even his face. It confused you, but also made you protective of him. You hated how overworked he was. You hated to see him get hurt. Ofcourse you wouldn't tell anyone this, knowing your sadistic parents they would threaten his life to motivate you.

One day it was the usual training. Your parents dropped you off at the number 2's house, with only a single bottle of water and a small dirt kids towel. Your overgrown and unkept hair was in an uncomfortably tight messy bun and your limbs ached from the previous days grueling training.

The day started off as normal: using your quirk until you couldn't do it anymore or collapse from exhaustion. Your quirk is called manipulation, it allows you to manipulate the shapes of near by non living objects, fir example you could make a smooth rock spiky. However, your quirk took a lot of focus and energy, so far you could only use your quirk on objects as large as a vase, you were only young.

Touya was next to you, hot flames spewing from his hands and arms. Singing his skin and burning the near by area... that was until he noticed his dads near by ornament fall and shatter on the ground.

Was this ornament important to endeavor? No. But would he still be pissed? Yes.

Fear immediately clouded Touya's mind....

"Nonononono" his panicked cries began to fill the room as you ran over to him, his cries would only alert endeavour sooner. Not because endeavour would be worried for him, but because endeavour would be angry at whatever he had done.

"Touya calm down. Here, I'll sweep it u-"

You barely had time to look up when you hear the sound of the door slam and angry heavy footsteps head towards the training room. Oh no. He's heard.

The door slammed open and silence cascaded over the room. Everything went still as time began to slow, the only sound you could hear was your heart thumping against your rib cage. Touya was going to get hurt.... and you hated that.

"Touya..... did you break the ornament?" He was calm at first. Some may see this as a good sign, but you two know better. He was going to explode any minute, he was a ticking time bomb waiting to blow.

"DID YOU BREAK THE FUCKING THING?" His voice was raised, his steps heading towards the two of you.

He raised his hand, ready to hit his son until your voice chimed in. Weak and unconfident you stood in front of your chest friend as you spoke.

"It was me... I broke it."

Silence filled the room. The scowl on his face grew deeper as he grabbed onto your arm with force.

"You know what's going to happen. Don't tell a fucking soul, you hear me?"

.....

After around 10 minutes you left the backroom, beaten and bloodied. Ofcourse, it wasn't to a severe extent, but still enough to hurt and be noticed by any possible strangers.

Touya didn't speak to you for the rest of the day.... and the next day training was cancelled...

Touya was dead.... death by fire. It was suicide. You knew it.

(TIME SKIP, CURRENT TIME)

The fall from the bridge seemed welcoming. You had got no where in life, running away from your parents at the age of 16 you found yourself helpless and homeless years later.

Recently, you discovered everything was a lie... Toiya wasn't dead... well the Touya you knew was. But the body if him was alive, just being controlled by a man who goes by the name "Dabi". You didn't want to accept that ot was your friend, you didn't want to accept the fact that you still liked him. He was a murderer... you should hate him. But what you hated even more was how you pitied endeavour, the abuser who tortured you two and lead his own son to 'suicide'. He had changed, but you will never forgive him.

The hopelessness and confusion in your life was too much. You let the cool air whip against your face for the final few minutes, you might as well enjoy the last moments in your life. Ironically, it was peaceful, you never really got peace before. And it had to be your final moments that ot decided to make an appearance.

Now was the time. The time to end this miserable life. The time to end the memories and pain that tormented you for years. You would never have to get hurt again, the pain will just stop and never appear. No one will miss you, your friend is gone and your family was never there. Tears began to pour down your face as you realised your life was nothing but a misery... you never even lived. You just survived...

You took a step closer to the ledge.

Until you felt a harsh tug pull you back and force you onto the concrete floor.

"OW WHAT THE HELL?!"

Your head shot up to glare at who ever pulled you down to the ground. But your blood ran cold as a white haired 5'9 figure covered in burn scars stood in front of you...

"D-dabi."

Shock overwhelmed your system, the tears ran down your face faster as you come face to face with your 'dead' best friend. The boy who abandoned you all those years ago..... the man who you never got over...

"Come on now, you know that's not my name." His smile creased his face and wrinkled his scars a little and his held out his hand to you. Warily, you took his hand and allowed him to pull you up. Should you trust him? He was a murderer.... but he was your friend.....

"Long time no see, huh?" He chuckled a little bit. Was this a fucking normal meeting for him. Is he making a guxking joke out of this.... after he abandoned you all those years ago, just to become some low life thug who murders people. INNOCENT PEOPLE.

"What the fuck? Is this funny to you? You think this is funny? Laughing when you left me all those years ago. Laughing when you become this.... a- a... A monster, a freak who murderers out of revenge? Fuck you."

Anger shot through you. You don't care if this gets you killed, either he will do it or you'll do it yourself. He was a monster. A killer. Everything you ever despised in one person. A person you used to love turned into a revenge crazed maniac who kills the innocent.

Surprise flooded his features as you rammed a finger into his chest.

"YOU KILL INNOCENT PEOPLE. YOU HAVE PROBABLY KILLED FUCKING CHILDREN! Who the hell do you think you are coming to see me after what, 5 to 10 years? FUCK I don't even remember anymore because I don't see the point in keeping track of the days I had to live thinking you died! You're a monster...."

Your figure began to crumple, your tough exterior caving in as your pent up emotions broke free from their cage. You collapsed into his arms as he ran a soothing hand down your back. You were so confused.... you were angry yet happy. Sad at what he had become but proud of his strength to fight back...

"Why did you leave me Touya? I c-could of saved you..."

The cool breeze blew against the two of you as Touya continued running soothing strokes down your back. Suprisingly, he was guilty. But he wasn't here to see you upset. He was here to get you, save you, help you. He was here to take you to the LOV, his new family.

"I know I left, but I'm here now. I'm taking you to the League, but I promise they won't hurt you. They are family, you want to change the world right? Fix society? That's our goal too. We have all been hurt one way or another.... but please. Come with me. Let me make up for the time we have missed out on so far, let me be the man you need."

You looked up at him, your eyes sore from crying and nose running. Slowly, you nodded. His warm embrace was welcoming, the first hug you have had in at least 5 years.

"Okay...... but you have to take ms out on a date first." A small goggle escaped your lips as you expected a disgusted face to scrunch his features.

But instead...

"Sure, but we're heading over to the LOV hide out right now sweetheart."

Surprise filled your features as be smiled again, his smile just like his old self.

....

Maybe the new Touya wasn't that bad... maybe the old Touya never left...

-----------------

Never wrote for Dabi before so I hope this is good enough!!! Sorry if it took a while to write, I've had a few mental health things pop up within the last 2 days but I'm going to be okay <33. Let me know if this is what you wanted 💞💞

#bnha #bnha manga #mha #my hero academia imagines #bakugo katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugo katsuki smut #bakugou katsuki smut #alpha!bakugou #dabi x you #yagami yato bakugo #dabi x reader #dabi x gender neutral reader #dabi #dabi smut #dabi x reader smut #touya x reader #dabi angst #dabi and shoto #todoroki family #enji todoroki #mha todoroki #bnha shoto todoroki #bnha todoroki #todoroki x y/n #todoroki x reader #todoroki x reader smut

[zemodaddy]

Shades of Him

Chapter 6

I just wanna say I’m sorry.

Warnings: violence, swearing, fluff

Word count:

Chapter 6

You follow the girl into a building which supposed to house Karli. She points to a doorway signalling that she’s just up ahead. “You got ten minutes, then we’re doing things my way” Walker pushes Zemo against a wall and handcuffs him to some kind of machinery. “Aggressive, but I get it” You try your best to ignore the urge to send Walker flying out of a window. “Go ahead Sam, we’ll stay here” you say.

You all wait in silence. Bucky and you blocking the doorway that Sam went through, Zemo restrained opposite you, Leemar was sat on a ledge and Walker kept on walking up and down. He was restless, he hated not being in control. A woman having dominance over him must irk him to the core. You smile to yourself. You look at Zemo to find him looking at you already. He tilted his head lightly, glanced at Walker, and grinned in amusement as if to say ‘what’s wrong with this guy’. You shake your head widening your smile.

Walker now walks up to Bucky and you, looking over your shoulders as if he could see through walls and see Sam. “No no no this is a bad idea” he states, walking away again. “Sit tight john it hasn’t been ten minutes yet” Bucky says calmly. “Don’t do that, don’t patronise me” what is with this dude. “He knows what he’s doing” you say. After a second Walker goes “I’m goin in”. You both stop him, yet he’s persistent. “Your partner needs back up in there, do you really want his blood on your hands?”

“Bucky really?” He had let Walker and his friend pass. Luckily you had snipped the keys to Zemos handcuffs from his pocket before he left. After discreetly tossing them to Zemo you follow Bucky after Walker. A commotion was already happening between him, Sam and Karli. Fuck. Karli looked betrayed by Sam and quickly started running for the nearest door. Bucky pushes past everyone and follows her.

“See what you did Johnny” you shout. He flings the shield at you to which you duck. He is really testing your patience. Before you could find the best way to take him out he had already disappeared after Karli. “That little git”. You run after him.

Arriving just in time, you find Zemo smashing some blue vials on the ground. Walker was taking a few swift steps towards him before lifting his shield to Zemos head. Correction, Steve’s shield. Before you could stop him he launches it. “What the hell, Walker” you rush over to Zemo who now lay on the floor. However, while examining his face for any serious damage you don’t notice Walker bending down and picking the one vial that wasn’t destroyed.

Luckily, Zemo wasn’t hurt, just knocked out. You move to Walker and as he turns around you punch him in the face. “You’re going to regret that” he says. You laugh “am I?” you summon flames into your hands, daring him to make his move. At the sight of your hands he seemed to back down a little. The others rush in. “What did we miss?”

“Somethings not right about Walker” Bucky walks into the main kitchen/lounge area. “Yeah he’s batshit crazy.” You say, earning a chuckle from Sam. Zemo was lying on one of the couches, with a wet flannel you had given him upon your return to his house on his face. “You shouldn’t have given him the shield” Bucky aims this statement at Sam. “I didn’t give him the shield.” “Well Steve definitely didn’t.” You were walking over to Zemo to check on his face when the front doors fly open. “Fucking hell”

“Alright that’s it let’s go, I’m ordering you to had him over.” Walker struts into your space. “That’s not going to happen”you say. Zemo gets up behind you and begins to walk to the outer edge of the room. “Shield or no shield the only think your running in here is your mouth” sam says. You follow Zemo and whisper “this can’t be good”. Seconds after you say this a loud thud noise sounds. A long spear had wedged itself before Walker into the wall. The Dora Milaje enter. “Release him to us now” Zemo seems to be in high demand today. “Hi, John Walker, captain America” the leader doesn’t say a word. “Well, uh let’s put down the pointy sticks” “you might want to fight Bucky before fighting the Dora milaje Johnny boo” you say. “Yeah well the Dora Milaje don’t have jurisdiction here”. Now the woman speaks “the Dora milaje have jurisdiction wherever they find themselves to be”

A fight was to be expected. Walker gave them too little credit. “We should do something” Sam voices. “Looking strong John” Bucky shouts over the chaos. You pour yourself a drink while watching everyone fight. It didn’t seem fitting to I interrupt them just yet. Bucky and Sam had now got themselves involved meaning that they’d probably need back up soon. However you hadn’t notice Zemo slip into a bathroom and lock the doors behind him, you were too focused on wondering who to help.

You decide to aid Sam in his struggle against one of the Dora Milaje. She overpowered him way to easily. After some struggling both parties stopped fighting as the leader found that Zemo had left. Somehow Bucky’s arm had been removed and was lying on the floor. They soon left leaving you all of bit dishevelled. Walker looked as if he’d dropped his favourite toy in the toilet.

“I can’t believe he pulled an El chapo” the three of you were gazing at the uncovered hole in the bathroom which Zemo had escaped through. “I can” Bucky says. “Ill follow him, you guys focus on Karli” “no” they both say at the same time. “I can track him and make sure he is secured while you guys finish the mission” there was no other way and they both knew it. “Fine, but be careful.”

You waste no time in finding Zemo. However, instead of going underground, you follow the tracker Bucky had placed on him when he first escaped from prison. He had travelled far already. By the looks of the screen in front of you he was heading for Sokovia. He knew he was being tracked, yet used his one opportunity of freedom to visit his old home. You guess it was time to ask another favour from your old friend.

“Hey Sharon its me again.” You speak into your phone “Y/n? Is something wrong” “Zemo snuck out and I’m finding him now but he’s in the air” “Do you happen to have a plane I could borrow?” You hear Sharon sigh over the phone. “Head to your nearest airstrip, ill get one ready” “Thank you so much I owe you one Sharon” “The things I do for you three” you could hear the eye roll in her voice.

As promised, you find yourself on a jet plane, heading for Sokovia. You receive an alert on your phone. It read ‘Captain America brutally murders civilian’. “What” you knew he was insane but you certainly didn’t expect this. You quickly dial for Sam. “What happened?” You couldn’t get the words out quick enough. “We went to talk to Karli but Walker followed. Leemar got killed in action and he went mad” “Shit are you guys okay?” “Yeah, Karli got away though. Have you found Zemo?” “I’m nearly at his location” “Okay, we’ll meet you there” and he hung up.

The Dora Milaje must be searching for Zemo too, so you had to get to him first. Finally, the plane lands. You knew exactly where he would be, it was obvious, you didn’t have to check the tracker. The whole of the flight you thought over some options on how to get Zemo away from the Dora. Each time you came to the same conclusion. They would never stop searching for him, not until he breathes his last breath.

You find Zemo standing in front of the memorial that was built for the grieving friends and families after Ultron. You walk next to him. “I thought you’d be here sooner” he says. You ignore him and wrap your arms around his torso. Theres no other options you remind yourself. He places his arms around your shoulders. “I can’t believe you slipped away unnoticed like that” “That house has many secret escape systems, I just used that situation to my advantage” he certainly did. You part from him a little, creating enough space for you to lean into a kiss. “Sam and Bucky are on their way here, and so are the Dora” you press your forehead against his, both your hands leant against his chest. He looks down. You don’t have the strength to look into his eyes.

“We can leave, together, right now.” You stroke the back of his head. “I know”. “Will you come with me?” You sigh parting from him a little further. “Do you trust me, Helmut?” Tears begin to fill your eyes. It felt like a million knives were stabbing into your heart. You knew what you had to do but every inch of your body told you not do it. You hug him one last time and whisper “Close your eyes”. “Why are you cry-“ “Helmut please” you cut him off. The fight against yourself was hard enough already.

He does as you say. You press a kiss between his eyebrows and slowly move way from him. You walk 3 or 4 meters before turning to face Zemo. Reaching behind your back you pull out the cold, black weapon from your strap. You hesitate before pointing the barrel of the gun towards the man you had come to trust despite his past. Your hands were shaking uncontrollably as you place a finger on the trigger. A single tear slips down your cheek as you stand there, your arm raised. Time seems to slow, it didn’t feel real anymore.

Never had you imagined it would come to this but he left you no other choice. An aircraft flies over head; Sam and Bucky must have arrived. “Y/n what are you-“ Zemo was looking at you now. You have waited too long. His eyes widen when he realises what you wanted to do.

“I’m sorry” you pull the trigger.

@killsandthrills @aisling1985 @booklover2929 @noavengers @arianalilyblack @your-pixels-are-showing @kenna-1904 @mochminnie @the-lil-spud @starssscary @safiakillspop

#baron zemo #baron zemo x reader #baron zemo x you #daniel brühl #helmut zemo #helmut zemo x reader #marvel #mcu #sugar daddy zemo

[pyrrhiccomedy]

the People have requested my book report on The Library at Mt. Char so this is now a Mt Char book club.

if you have not read The Library at Mt Char there is no reason to keep reading. I hope you're having a nice day, stay safe and don't do drugs.

So Mt Char has a couple of problems, but in my opinion only one grave problem.

Not a grave problem:

Erwin doesn't need to be in this book. An astonishing amount of ink is spilled on giving us Erwin's POV and I am at a loss in regards to what that's supposed to bring to the story. I mean, it's kind of neat to see Carolyn's "trick shot" from the POV of one of the people being manipulated, but that perspective could have just been provided by Steve. Everything Erwin does of any plot significance could have been done by Steve, a character who actually matters.

Please note that I don't hate Erwin, he's perfectly fine as characters go, he just contributes nothing, and it is baffling that he and Carolyn get the last scene in the book (instead of just ending on her reunion with Michael, a scene that was emotionally affecting and felt like a natural end point to her story). We are taking no questions, Erwin needed to be cut.

Also not a grave problem in my opinion, but I am sure others feel differently and I understand why they would:

Yo, the scope of what the catalogs cover is mad vague. I mean, I get that that's the point: when you have a character whose magic powers are "anything that has to do with death or murder," that's a broad license, and I'm fine with that. These are supposed to be demi-gods. I don't require a rigorously explicated magic system.

But then like...why can't Jennifer, the healer, also heal minds? That seems weird. Or like, it's implied that she kinda can, maybe, but none of the kids talk about their therapy sessions with Jennifer: they explicitly call out that she heals their bodies. But then she talks about how Margaret and David are sick (meaning mentally) in a way she can "no longer help?" Aren't you supposed to be the God Of Healing? Why can't you help anymore? And were you actually trying to help them before - or anyone else? That's never shown. You could have just said you only healed bodies, not minds, but then it's repeatedly implied that she CAN diagnose mental and emotional problems (and therefore should probably be able to do something about them).

So that's weird.

Or like, why is there Alicia, who "sees the future," and Rachel, who "sees possible futures?" That, uh, just sounds like the author was running out of ideas. Also, if Alicia could see the future, she probably shouldn't have been in that house when the SWAT team hit, yeah?

Stuff like that. The magic the kids can do is very "they have the powers the author needs them to have when the author needs them to have them, and they can't do anything the author would find inconvenient for them to do" but that's not a deal breaker for me because overall the vibe being put off by their various magical specialties works for me. Still, there were ways of getting us where we needed to go without begging quite so many questions.

Also not a grave problem, although more of a problem than the other stuff:

You know that anime trope where a super-genius character is having an entire conversation with another super-genius character through a screen, and it's revealed that the whole conversation was a distraction and pre-recorded so that Character 2 could Complete His Scheme against Character 1? And used his super-genius brain to predict every single thing Character 1 would say? And your suspension of disbelief staggers bloodied into the alleyway and collapses because you're really trying to hang in there, Code Geass, but that's fucking stupid, you're asking for me to believe that this character's intelligence is flat-out supernatural now and you've given me no reason why that should be?

That's how I feel about Carolyn, by the time she takes over the Library. Like, okay. The kids canonically have not even been at the Library long enough for any of them to master their catalogues except for Jennifer. None of them but Jennifer are masters of even their own subject.

Carolyn has been studying in secret from multiple catalogues - which is cool! I like how she slowly reveals over the course of the latter half of the book that she has powers from other people's specialties.

...But like...

She seems close to mastering her own catalogue. She is a competent healer and can raise the dead (Jennifer's catalogue). She can block attempts to read her mind, beats David in a fight, and understands how to kill Father (David's catalogue). She speaks lion and controls the dogs that surround the Library (Michael's catalogue). She could make the mathy "Denial That Rends" thing that kicks off the whole plot, and she can make a new sun and correct orbital rotations around it (Peter's catalogue). She can predict the future with such specificity that she knows how to cause Steve to drop a clip of bullets while he's being attacked by dogs exactly where Erwin will need to pick it up later (Rachel's catalogue, also this one is stupid, she could have just given Erwin an extra clip or something, but whatever).

That's half the catalogues. Carolyn doesn't seem prodigiously more intelligent than the other kids. She's smart, sure, but they're all weird demi-gods with a genius for their specialties. The rest of them haven't even mastered their own catalogue, and I'm supposed to swallow that Carolyn has attained 'competent or better' status in six? When she has to research five of them in secret? Without falling behind in her own studies?

It would be fine if they had all been masters of their own catalogues for years and years; that would mean they would begin to stagnate, while Carolyn kept learning. But that's not the case. By the end I wasn't impressed anymore at Carolyn's resourcefulness, it just felt like she could do anything and everything, shh, don't ask questions, she's the Chosen One so she just can.

The reason this isn't a grave problem to me is because Carolyn's journey isn't about becoming more powerful: it's about her emotional journey, which isn't affected by her being stupidly OP for no reason by the end of the book. She still sucked at the things that mattered, like "feelings" and "relationships" and "not being a shitty person." But I do think it hurt the story. I should be cheering on my protagonist when her wild schemes come together, not rolling my eyes.

Anyway. All that was the aperitif. Let's talk about

THE GRAVE AND GLARING PROBLEM AT THE CENTER OF MT CHAR.

So everything that happens in the book stems from Carolyn's thoroughly justified hatred of Father (and David, but David was made that way by Father). Father treated her, and all of the other kids, with extravagant cruelty. If you haven't read the book in a while, here's a sample of the kinds of things Father did to the kids, or, if David did them, that Father did nothing to prevent:

- Cooked David alive over 2 full days in a giant bronze bull (and made the rest of the kids bring the fuel)

- Put Michael's eyes out with a hot poker every night for 2 weeks (and made the rest of the kids watch)

- Murdered Margaret every few days, often in drawn-out and painful ways

- Made Rachel repeatedly give birth, raise the babies to about 9 months, then murder them with her own hands

- Allowed David to rape all 11 of the other kids (except Jennifer, probably because she was the healer and he wanted to stay on her good side)

- Allowed David to crucify, brutalize and rape Carolyn and Peter

- Gave Carolyn a loving new family for a year when she was nine years old (those two deer), then had David murder them in front of her and blame it on her for not remembering her homework well enough, then served the two deer at a feast to 'celebrate' her returning to the family

- Whippings, skinnings, and bone-breakings as standard disciplinary actions

Whoo-ee! Okay! We are talking about mythological cruelty. I am fine with this! The story takes place on a mythological scale. As outlandish as all of that is, the cruelty feels proportionate in a story about killing and replacing god. Father is cruel, indifferent, controlling, and alien. I have no questions, Carolyn please proceed with your revenge. We seemed on track for a tale in which Carolyn defeats Father, but in doing so she runs the risk of becoming him. Will she step back from the brink and retain her humanity after all of the trauma and brutality she's endured? Let's find out!

And then

and then.

Oh boy.

And then.

...It turns out, Father is a good guy after all.

And let me be clear: THIS IS NOT, IN AND OF ITSELF, A PROBLEM.

By the time you learn that Father is actually benevolent, and loved those kids, and cares about being a responsible steward to the world, and tried to leave the universe a better place than he found it, and genuinely regretted the suffering he inflicted on them when they were growing up, it feels kind of...natural? Like, I was surprised, but also not, because there were 90 pages of book left and Carolyn had already become god. This seemed like a thematically meaningful place to take the rest of the story.

It turns out Father was training Carolyn to replace him the entire time. He had to make her hate David because it was important that she "defeat a monster" on her path to becoming god. (It's not explained why she had to defeat a monster, but sure, okay; it's the kind of mythic feat that fits with the story we're in.)

Why did he choose Carolyn to be his successor? Well, originally he chose David, but David wasn't strong enough: every time Carolyn was the monster in David's story, she defeated him, and went on to rule the universe as an unspeakable tyrant. Since Carolyn always won, Father swapped their roles. He knew he had made the right choice when he put David into the bronze bull, and heard David begging for mercy: because when Carolyn had been the fated monster, she had never begged.

...Okay, so...hang on.

Hang on.

The only rule that we've established on "how to become god" is "you have to defeat a monster," right? I'll even grant you for free that it has to be a monster who is personally meaningful to you, although that part is never stated. Overcoming a great evil which has cast you down and abused you many times before, sure, okay.

...Why the FUCK did all that other awful shit have to happen??

I did not have this question when Father was just evil! That was a good enough explanation! But now that he's not evil, you HAVE TO EXPLAIN why he treated all of the kids so brutally!

Like dude you're GOD. If you need a monster for Carolyn, I'm sure you can make that happen without TORTURING CHILDREN FOR DECADES.

There didn't even need to be any other children! You could have two kids: the languages-kid, who is the chosen one (the chosen one has to be the languages-kid so they can read the Onyx Codex or whatever it was called at the end, the one written by Original God), and the war-and-murder kid, who is the monster. They could have just been forbidden to read the other codices, if it's important to you that your chosen one still prove her resourcefulness or whatever.

Why include all of the other kids??? It wasn't to give your chosen one a sense of family: Carolyn didn't feel close to any of them except for Michael (who I liked, but whose contribution to the plot was negligible).

Or keep the kids! But then why make them, and Carolyn, hate you?? You could just say, "Hey Carolyn, I am raising you to be my successor, you have to figure it out yourself because part of proving your worthiness is this kind of abstract, big-picture thinking, but I love you and whatever you end up deciding to do, just believe in yourself." And meanwhile you're off torturing the fated monster in order to get him piping hot and ready to be served.

Was the idea that Carolyn had to endure so much horror in order to prove she was 'tough enough' to be god?? Because that's not how trauma works! Kids who have been brutally traumatized are usually not made tougher by the experience! A fact that even the book understands, because 10 of the 12 kids are completely destroyed by their upbringing (I'm giving marginal exceptions to Michael and Carolyn herself).

And like

if Father doesn't have a good reason for having treated them so badly, the whole book falls apart!

Because getting revenge for that cruelty is Carolyn's whole motivation!

We are clearly supposed to feel okay about Father going to make a new universe at the end of the book: he's going with his cool tiger friend and that little girl with the connection to the elemental plane of joy who used to be the sun, he's happy to see Carolyn embracing compassion and kindness, which means he cares about compassion and kindness. He invented light and pleasure. Carolyn does nothing to try to stop him from going. He seems like a pretty good candidate for god. And I do feel okay with him leaving! I was convinced! Father is not evil after all!

But then you have! to explain! the abuse!!

It can be a throwaway line!! "Carolyn realized that everything she and her siblings went through had to happen the way it did, because [X]," embedded in the middle of a paragraph! That would have been enough! But I need an explanation!

"They were raised the way Father was raised himself" WHY? He was raised by the Emperor, an on-the-record awful fucking dude! Father proceeded to rule the universe in a far more benevolent way than the Emperor did, why would he feel like he had to raise his kids the way the Emperor raised him?

"Carolyn needed to overcome challenges on her path to godhood" how is TRAUMATIZING HER SO BADLY SHE ALMOST BECOMES INHUMAN - SOMETHING YOU WERE OSTENSIBLY TRYING TO PREVENT, see Steve being preserved as something that could give her hope, etc - A "CHALLENGE??"

Again, none of this is a problem if Father is just evil! YOU CHOSE to make him not evil! And that's fine!! I think it's a good choice for the story actually!! But then you have to, you have to, HAVE TO explain why all of that bad shit happened!

Because all of that bad shit is the reason Carolyn made there be a story.

And it turns out it doesn't make sense.

#the library at mount char

[kallypsowrites]

The Darkling and the “Extremist Leader” Trope

I’ve been thinking a lot about the Darkling lately (I know, a shock, you cannot tell this from the everything on my dash) and while within the text I don’t exactly want a redemption arc for him, I am still annoyed with how much Leigh simplified his character in order to simplify the conflict.

I remember reading in an interview in the back of one of the books that she didn’t want things to simple. That she wanted her readers to be drawn in by the Darkling because he’s charismatic and complex and all that. And while he’s certainly one of the most interesting characters and I love him to death as a villain I also love him for how much more he could have been. And I think one of my main gripes with the trajectory of his arc ultimately comes from the common fantasy trope he falls into: the leader of a group of marginalized people who is ultimately too extreme or power hungry.

We’ve seen this trope constant times in media. Magneto (X-Men), Amon (Korra), that one guy from RWBY who’s name I can’t remember (Adam right? It was Adam?). Dolores from Westworld (though who even KNOWS what was happening with her in season 3. I still haven’t fully processed that mess). In these worlds the mutants or non-benders or faunus or robots are on the bottom rung of society. They have legitimate struggles. They have reason to be angry or upset. They long for safety. And then a leader arises--strong or charismatic or both--and tells them that they SHOULD feel angry. They are right to want more. And they have a plan to get it for them.

But gosh darn it they’re just too EXTREME. They murder people (Magneto, Dolores), they have an excessive vendetta against their ex- girlfriend and also murder people (Adam), or they’re lying about their true intentions/past and they murder people (Amon). And it renders them unsympathetic. It encourages us to root against them and instead side with a more moderate/neutral party (Professor X, Korra, Blake, most of the other main character robots in Westworld etc).

The Darkling certainly falls into this trope. His original motivation was to make a place for Grisha where they don’t have to be afraid. And with every other surrounding country fucking MURDERING them for various reasons, that’s fair enough. But gosh darn it he just gets too power hungry. He murders and tortures people. He lies about his past/intentions. And he’s definitely got a vendetta against his ex-girlfriend. We must root instead for our more moderate Grisha who don’t want total rebellion/overthrowing of the monarchy that has done nothing but use Grisha for their own personal gain.

The problem with this trope is how it turns our focus--it makes it about a fight of ideals within the marginalized group and not about a fight against the system that marginalized them. Because maybe we deal with that system to a point. But it isn’t the real villain. The ultimate evil that must be destroyed is the extremist leader.

Now some of the examples I’ve given have done interesting things with this trope. Amon actually not being a non-bender and just using the group was an intriguing twist. X-men has explored Magneto’s motivations and made him less villainous/ more complex in several different stories. Westworld was good with morally grey framing so that it never fully condemned any one party. And...fuck it I haven’t watched RWBY since season 3. Let me know if Adam suddenly got complex or something. But no matter what they do with the trope, it still makes the extremist more evil in order to make it easier to defeat them/kill them.

It’s not that you can’t have people with questionable methods. Debates about how to handle the situation. Moral greys are good to explore in fiction. But when you have a character from a marginalized group do something over the top bad just to make the audience separate from them. Why? Why make it that easy?

The Darkling still could have been brutal. Harsh. Cold. Focused singularly on his goal to find Grisha a place without thinking about the moral quandaries. Alina still could have clashed with him over that. And heck, it’d be nice to see the Grisha who sided him like...at all, because they are essentially as developed as his shadow demons--a faceless enemy we don’t have to feel conflicted about killing. Every over the top bad thing he does which doesn’t serve his goal just feels like something to make the choice ‘easier’ for the reader. It robs the story of complexity.

Because our heroes ultimately don’t think much about how to get Grisha more rights, change the system. It’s an afterthought to the conflict of ‘defeat the Darkling’. Instead of any sort of widespread social change, the solution is putting a nice guy on the throne. Which, I love Nikolai, but it feels like a bandaid on a much larger problem.

The story makes sense if you consume it in a bubble and it’s perfectly fine. But when you observe it next to a lot of other fantasy stories, a pattern starts to emerge. That the system isn’t the main villain. It’s the person trying just a little too hard to overthrow it. I’m certainly not saying that’s what Leigh was going for, but it is there.

Guess I’m just wishing for a little more complexity and moral greys at the end of the day and a little more focus on the plight of Grisha’s in this world. If you’re going to have an oppression narrative in your fantasy, you gotta fully dive into it But I still enjoy the books, and the character of the Darkling for what they are. There’s just a ‘what could have been’ element to it.

#the grishaverse #the darkling #darklina #shadow and bone #tropes #meta #my post

[katfett]

A/Ns: Thank you for the love for chapter one! Here is chapter two! Ivar, Hvit and the boys come face to face with Nora.

TAGLIST: @peachyboneless @youbloodymadgenius @criminaly-supernatural @heavenly1927 @zuxiezendler @surewhyynot @revolution-starter @punkrocknpearls @oldglitterstory @bloooferladyy 

(If you wish to be added, removed - just lemme know)

SUMMARY: She wasn’t meant to be here, she was on holiday in England and the next thing she knew she was in the middle of a war. Nora needs to survive if she ever hopes of finding her way home, but she wasn’t prepared to run into the sons of Ragnar Lothbrok. She wasn’t prepared for the adventure and trials coming her way.

CHAPTER TWO

Nora swung at the man. He ducked her punch, not swinging back as he ended up behind her. He wasn’t trying to hurt her; he seemed as entertained over her attempt to fight as his men were. As he chuckled, talking to the men around them in that strange language, Nora turned and shot forward, kicking the inside of his knee. He went down; the laughter died around them. Nora was breathing shakily, exhausted and trying hard not to collapse. She was running on pure steam, a combination of the adrenaline and panic in her system.

She grunted as he lunged at her; he’d tossed his axe to another, not bringing it into the fight. Small condolences she’d thought bitterly.

He pinned her arms to her side. Struggling against the vice like grip on her, she stepped on his foot, and buried her elbow into his gut. He growled, turning her to face him as he wrenched her arms behind her back. She growled back, throwing her head forward as he grinned down at her. The sickening crunch of bone crushing should’ve made her wince, but she’d broken a few noses over the years and suffered one once. Blood gushed from his nose. Nora wasn’t finished. She brought her knee up and focused as he was on his now bloodied, hopefully broken nose, he didn’t have a chance to stop her. The impact had all the blood draining from his face. He released her as he fell to his knees.

She could feel the collective wince from the men in the circle around them and it would’ve been comical, but this was serious. This was life and death to her. She had no idea what they planned but she’d even television to hazard a guess. Her nose was bleeding from the head butt, she could feel the throb of pain spread.

Nora glanced at the men around them; surprised, she found them watching her. The man with the facial tattoos was watching her through watery eyes. He’d be lucky if he could walk straight after that. She stepped to him and swung a left hook at him. His head was like a fucking rock, but she knocked him to the ground. He sprawled out on the ground, groaning. She stood there, panting. Her hand ached and her fingers shook. She didn’t know if she could do that again.

She startled as someone grabbed her from behind by her jacket. Twisting sharply, she came face to face with a giant of a man. His hair was shaved to the scalp at the sides, the top pulled back. His blue eyes were fierce, intense as they stared down at her. She tried to tug herself free, but his grip was solid. She clawed and tugged at his arm, fighting like a little hellcat against him. He barked something out over her head, ignoring her. Nora tried with all her might to break away from him.

He was too strong. She didn’t expect the butt of the axe swinging into the side of her head. She went down in a heap, out cold.

***

The laughing and cheering had drawn the attention of Bjorn and his brothers. Those who stood in the circle parted for the sons as they approached. The scene before them was, interesting, to say the least. A young woman swung her fist into Harald’s face as he knelt on the ground. He went sprawling across the dirt hard. Still conscious though in a world of pain from the bloody nose and way he was clutching his groin were any indication.

Bjorn smirked, glancing around to his younger brothers. Ubbe was grinning, Hvitserk and Sigurd’s brows were furrowed, and Ivar was by Ubbe’s feet watching the scene with that passive expression on his face. The sight of Harald being knocked onto his back by a woman half his size was entertaining.

He needed to get them focused, they should be securing this place not watching Harald be beaten to a pulp by a damn woman.

As the woman stood before them, her back to him, Bjorn took the opportunity to advance and grab at her clothing, strange as it was. He held firm as she twisted round on him, clawing, and tugging at him. Unlike Harald, Bjorn could withstand the small woman’s assault. She barely came to his chest.

“Get back to work!” he barked at the crowd. Slowly, they began to disperse. He took the butt of his axe and swung it at the side of her head, knocking her out. She crumpled against him and he caught her, picking her up and tossing her over his shoulder. Ecbert hadn’t been lying, the woman was strange. Her pants were a strange fabric he’d not come across before; here or in the Mediterranean.

“Come,” he said as he turned to his brothers, pushing past them. He stopped halfway, looking over to where Halfdan stood nearby. “Halfdan, get him up.” Bjorn jerked his head in the direction of Harald. Halfdan nodded, stepping towards his older brother.

***

Bjorn stepped into the hall, looking for somewhere to put her. He dropped the woman unceremoniously down near a pillar. “Find something to tie her up with, make sure her hands are bound.”

Sigurd disappeared back out the doors as Bjorn turned towards Ecbert in the cage. He was looking at the young woman, his face unreadable. Sigurd returned, tossing the rope he’d found at Ubbe who knelt and worked quick to bind the woman’s hands, tying her upright to the pillar Bjorn had dumped her against.

“Strange, is she not?” Ecbert pondered out loud.

Bjorn glanced at the woman. She was. He’d not seen clothing like that, ever. He’d also not seen an Englishwoman put up such a show of force in all the weeks they’d been here. Many cowered and cried as they were claimed or killed, some tried to bribe or beg their way out of what was to come. This woman had stood toe to toe with Harald. Ivar had reclaimed his seat nearby as Sigurd and Hvitserk watched Ubbe.

Bjorn had no idea what to do with the woman.

***

Nora came to with another headache. It radiated from her nose and across her temple. She remembered the blonde man who’d cracked her over the head with his axe and she let out a weak groan. She brought her hand up to probe at the side only she couldn’t. Opening her eyes, she looked down.

“Fuck,” she muttered. For a moment she stared at her hands which were bound at the wrist, not believing it, but what was worse was the fact she was pinned in an upright position against a pillar, rope tied about her torso. Growling, she twisted, hoping it gave way. She wasn’t that lucky.

Her head jerked up as she heard a voice; she still didn’t understand any of what was said. Glancing round, she saw the blonde who’d knocked her out. He wasn’t alone. The dying light outside indicated just how long she’d been unconscious as her dark eyes took in the four other men with the blonde. They were scattered about the room they occupied. They were, for the most part, dressed like the man she’d fought though they all looked younger.

“Let me go!” she snapped; her voice rougher than usual. She hadn’t had a drink in some time, her throat was sore and scratchy, the old man had been evacuated with the rest of the people who’d lived here. Her brother had been a LARPer when they’d been teenagers, she still had a shield hanging on her wall back home from when she’d join in a few times. This was wholly different; these men were flesh and blood Vikings. They weren’t playing, there were no rules here. She was facing life and death right now. They stared back at her. 

Stumped, Nora glowered at the blonde who’d hit her. He looked arrogant. Another blonde, his hairstyle somewhat like the firsts had his arms folded across a massive chest as he grinned at her. She didn’t understand what he found so amusing about all this.

A third blonde; his hair shoulder-length and curly was scattered with braids. His face was sweeter, softer than the first two which felt strange to think considering he was armed with a brutal axe like the others.

The fourth was not as fair, his dirty blonde hair was pulled back into braids and he was grinning from where he sat leaning against the side of a chair. As she pulled her gaze away to the fifth who sat in said chair, Nora felt a silver of fear creep into her. He was spinning a knife in his hand as he watched her, his bright blue eyes cold.

He glanced away first, and Nora didn’t glance away as he spoke. His voice was softer than she expected of a man with such a presence. The blonde below him chuckled, the one who’d knocked her out shook his head. She desperately wished she knew what they were saying. How was she going to get herself out of this when she couldn’t even talk to them?

Angry at the situation, she swore again, jerking at the restraints. She wanted out. She couldn’t stay here, she needed to find a way home. The whizz of air and sudden thud by her head startled her. Nora’s eyes jerked from the knife buried in the pillar by her head to the dark haired man. It was close.

“You missed,” she spat out, glaring.

There was a flash of confusion in those intensely blue eyes and then a smile spread across his face. Nora felt the breath be knocked out of her at the sight. He was dirty and covered in grime, but she had to admit, he was breathtaking as he smiled. She’d felt half mad before this, but as the thought crossed her mind, she admitted to herself she was crazy to even consider it when she was tied to a pillar and their prisoner. He chuckled, turning his gaze back to the others who stood nearby.

The larger one, the first blonde, stepped toward her and Nora tensed up, not trusting him. She watched him, wary as he closed the distance between them in only a few strides. He crouched down in front of her, his head titled to the side as he watched her. His broad shoulders blocked out her view of the others.

He spoke again, and Nora rolled her eyes, speaking over him. “I can’t understand you, why do you keep bothering?”

His hand shot out, curling around her throat. She winced as his fingers tightened on her, the warning real as he glared at her. He spoke again, the foreign language was different again, sharper. His eyes searched her face as she stared back at him, unmoving as his fingers on her throat reminded her of what he might do to her.

As though realising she genuinely had no idea what he was saying, his grip uncurled from her neck, and she released the breath she’d been containing.

He reached out and yanked the knife free from by her head. He held it between them, studying it for a moment before he looked back at her face. Nora held her hands up, smiling in what she hoped was a sweet way. “Please?” she asked, even though he couldn’t understand her.

He reached out and sliced through the rope holding her to the pillar, but not her hands. As soon as it fell from around her, Nora tried to make a break for it. She’d barely gotten to her feet when the bastard tripped her up. She yelped as she hit the ground, hard. Nora groaned, rolling onto her back. He was laughing at her.

Nora glowered as she lifted her head to look at him. She was not in the mood. Her boot shot out and she tried to kick at his knee. He shifted, avoiding the kick. Nora scrambled backwards, backing herself into a corner.

***

Bjorn glanced at his brothers, watching as the woman backed herself into the corner. Her language was foreign, they’d never come across it.

“What do we do with her?” Sigurd asked.

The woman looked wild, exhausted but still willing to put up a fight. Bjorn glanced round to his young brothers.

“I don’t know.” He pushed himself to his feet, folding his arms over his chest as he stared down at her. It was the truth, he didn’t know how to talk to her, he didn’t know what to do with her. The English had wanted to kill her as a warning to them, thinking she belonged to them. He could see why they might have thought it, at first. Ecbert was no longer present, Bjorn had used the time while she was unconscious to deal with the man. It’d taken a little to convince Ivar to agree to the terms, but he had. “She can’t understand us, nor we her.”

“She’s not Saxon, and even with the way she fights like she has the blood of Tyr in her, she isn’t one of us,” Ubbe commented. They tried Saxon, they’d tried their native tongue, heck he’d even tried some of the words he’d picked up in the Mediterranean. Nothing. Bjorn sighed heavily and turned back to his brothers. He strode to Ivar, handing him back his knife.

“Until we know who, or what, she is, we need to keep her under guard.”

“We could put her in the cage,” Ivar suggested, eyeing the cage that had held King Ecbert mere hours ago. His cold gaze lowered to the woman huddled in the corner, watching them, and he smirked. “Though I think getting her in it might present a challenge.”

Ubbe chuckled, nodding as he scratched the back of his neck. “We could knock her out. Let her save that wild energy for something more useful.”

Sigurd and Hvitserk both laughed at their elder brother’s words, knowing what he inferred.

Ivar rolled his eyes at them before he moved and hopped down from his chair. 

***

Nora watched the men as they spoke. They stood between her and the way out. When the dark haired one looked at the cage sitting on the platform, cold dread ran down her spine. Was that for her? Fuck, how would she escape if she ended up in that thing?

His gaze fell to her and Nora felt uneasy as cold eyes met dark ones. She watched, wide-eyed as he lifted himself down from the chair. He didn’t stand, instead he dragged himself toward her. Stunned, Nora didn’t move. He was crippled. His legs were strapped together, she’d been so intent on their faces, she’d not really noticed the way his legs were bound.

He stopped a few feet away. She didn’t know what to make of this development. He’d thrown a knife at her only moments ago and she wagered he’d do it again if he felt like it. He shifted to sit, pulling his legs around to rest between them. Nora’s eyes took in the crude braces and straps holding his legs together. She frowned, wondering what condition he had that had crippled his ability to walk. Had he been born with it? How had he survived such a life with it? Somewhat fascinated, Nora let her gaze slowly roam across his thighs, up his torso and back to his face.

She couldn’t work out what he was thinking; his face was passive. Nora didn’t shy away though from those cold eyes though. Silence settled between them. 

After a moment, he smiled at her. It wasn’t like the first one she’d experienced. This wasn’t cold and her heart beat a little faster in her chest. He was even more handsome closer and face on. Yeah, she was certainly mad.

He lifted a hand to his chest as he spoke: “Ivar.” He said it slowly, repeating himself twice more. Ivar? Was that – was that his name? Nora looked over his shoulder at the other men. The blonde who had been sitting by the chair was now perched on it, and that’s as far as anyone had moved. Their eyes were intent on Nora and Ivar. She looked back at him, licking her lips as she struggled to whisper his name back. She slowly nodded, indicating she understood him.

That smile spread further across his face, and he then pointed at her. Did Nora give them her full name? Would it be of any use here? They couldn’t use her as a hostage for her family; she had no idea who where ancestors were in this time.

The young man, Ivar, was patient, simply watching her as she slowly uncurled herself from the corner. Pointing to herself, she managed to find her voice and say her name. Slow and careful with the way she pronounced it. “Nora.”

He repeated her name out loud, slowly sounding it out. It was thick with his heavy accent, but he managed to say it well enough.

He then motioned to behind him, a little more eagerly than she expected. Her eyes went to the one who’d tried to strangle her. “Bjorn.”

Nora glowered. Jackass was more like it. She repeated his name, showing she understood. The second blonde was Ubbe; the third was Sigurd. Nora rested her head on her knees as she watched his hand move to the fifth man, the one who was not yet introduced. Hvitserk.

She butchered it. Her Australian drawl doing her no favors. The man in question grinned, showing off a cheeky expression as he said something to Ivar, who rolled his eyes. Nora couldn’t contain her smile at the dramatic way he did.

She tried the name again. It wasn’t as bad the third time she tried.

***

“You should let me part those pretty thighs, she’d learn my name quick enough,” Hvitserk said, grinning at the young woman, Nora. He didn’t need to see Ivar’s reaction, the woman’s slight smile told him Ivar had rolled his eyes in his usual dramatic fashion.

“Well, she understood that,” Bjorn grunted.

Now, they had a name, Nora. Strange as it was, Ivar was curious about her language, of where she was from, her accent was different, and where she got her clothes from. Most of all, he was curious as to her lack of horror seeing his legs. It was rare for people to not be taken aback by his crawling, the braces, and crude straps on him. Her initial surprise had subsided quickly, giving way to a frown and he had kept his face passive. Her frown hadn’t been scorn, more confusion as though she was trying to piece something together as she looked at him.

“Enough for now,” Bjorn said, stepping forward. Ivar immediately picked up on the way the woman tensed. He didn’t stop his brother though. She needed securing, if not to avoid her escape, then at least to keep the men off her. She was pretty enough, if his brothers reactions were any indication. Most of the men wouldn’t hesitate to take a turn on her if they were given the opportunity. Harald would no doubt be fuming he had been stripped of the pleasure of punishing her for humiliating him like she had.

***

Nora climbed to her feet as Bjorn came closer. She wasn’t restrained now. Her hands were bound, sure, but she wasn’t entirely defenseless. When he got in reach, Nora lashed out, kicking him in the thigh. She’d aimed too low but from the rough grunt he let out as he stumbled back a step, it had the desire effect to catch him off guard.

His eyes were wide as he stared at her. She glowered back. “Do not touch me again.”

She wouldn’t miss her next target. He growled and then lunged at her faster than she was anticipating. Nora barely managed to duck beneath his arms and slip out of his way, darting behind him and putting the pillar she’d been tied to between them. Her eyes went to the cage. “You are not putting me in that thing.”

She forgot in the need to put space between herself and Bjorn, that the other three men still occupied the room, and she’d backed herself right into them. Bjorn advanced on her and she stumbled back into the hands of Ubbe and Sigurd. They each caught on one her arms, and holding fast, they managed to drag her towards the metal contraption. Hvitserk must’ve opened it and was standing wide of the door.

Ubbe ended up with a nasty bite on his hand courtesy of Nora. Sigurd had a handful of hair pulled out as Ubbe had released her arm when she’d sunk her teeth into his skin. He’d caught her in time to stop her from tearing Sigurd’s head off. With a harsh shove she was forced into the cage and the door slammed behind her.

Panic, white hot, crept through her. She didn’t like small, spaces, even though this thing was barred, she was cramped, cornered and caged. She kicked at the bars and shouted at them to let her out. They hefted her up into the air and secured the rope. Eventually, they left her. Alone and caged.

Nora spent the next several hours kicking the bars and yelling until her throat was destroyed, her voice barely a hoarse whisper, and her leg hurting due to the impact on the cage bars.

It was only when exhaustion set back in, and she couldn’t fight it anymore, that Nora’s kicked and screaming quietened.

#little valkyrie #ivar #ivar vikings #ivar the boneless #ivar lothbrok #ivar x oc #ivar x #ivar ragnarsson #hvitserk #hvitserk x ofc #hvitserk x oc #hvitserk ragnarsson #hvitty #hvit #hvitserk vikings #FANFICTION #fanfic #romance #love triangle #vikings #vikings fanfiction #vikings fanfic #timetravel #time travel #time traveller #writing #stories #story #drama #adventure

[dreamteamfanblog]

Obligatory I haven't kept up with Season Three at all and everything I talk about is pre Tommy dying, pre Niki joining the syndicate, pre Red Banquet, pre Los Navadas, pre Wilbur Revival, and pre Tommy/Ranboo marriage. To the point where I don't actually know functionally anything about any of the events I just mentioned except that they are the names of things that have gone down that y'all may know about so you can figure out when I stopped watching and what the most recent events at the time were. Pretty much everything I bring up in any of my posts will be primarily based in season one or season two discourse/events and I cannot promise anything is accounted for past the season two finale.

SO ONTO THE ACTUAL POST.

Hey why is it that the Techno Apologists never latch onto any examples of L'manburg actually being fucked up?

Like, it's always whining about how Techno was Betrayed when Pogtopia did literally exactly what they had been openly planning to do since the beginning, or about how The Butcher Army was supposedly so Mean and Bad for trying to execute Techno, or about how....idk man, L'manburg being awful solely because they were involved in so much conflict?

Which I mean not only are all of these arguments very weirdly untrue.

They're also super hypocritical.

Like it's so consistently argued that Techno didn't betray Pogtopia since he made his intentions clear from the start, but that also debunks their point that Techno was betrayed on account of the fact that Pogtopia made their intentions clear from the start too. People cheered and loudly passionately agreed and supported Techno's "And those that treat me with injustice — that use me, that hunt me down, that hurt my friends — I shall repay that injustice a thousand times over!" thing and yet this adamant support of such brutal retribution during a conflict in which Techno himself had landed the first blow....actively contradicts the narrative that the Butcher Army are bad and evil and had no right to do what they did? I mean Techno literally canonically both hunted Quackity down and hurt his friends and the case that Techno was used at all is only about as strong as the case that he used the others so either both of em' were or neither were, and in either case, there's no leg to stand on when Techno apologists happily support Techno destroying an entire nation including the lives and homes of people who had nothing to do with The Butcher Army yet also scoff at the very idea that executing a war criminal for murder and terrorism against them could possibly be anything other than horrifically evil and corrupt! Not to mention that again, "L'manburg are filled with such Violent Troublemakers who cause so much Chaos and Conflict", is a really weird and hypocritical thing to claim when you're defending mister Blood For The Blood God over here who literally jumped in the second he heard the word Revolution because he was just that fucking ready to fight then canonically took the lives of multiple members of L'manburg and blew up their whole city while explicitly talking about his desire for Chaos in a "Dog Eat Dog World"????

Like not only is it pretty easy to argue all these points on a "that's like factually incorrect?" basis alone but even completely refusing to touch that angle, literally nothing L'manburg did that's brought up by Techno Apologists as a gotcha can stand as an actual argument in his favour because every single fucking bit of it is stuff that Techno himself holds as part of his Oh So Righteous Ideology and it really doesn't work to say "Retribution is bad, but Retribution For Retribution! THAT I can get behind!" or "Conflict is bad, except when the bloodshed is For The Blood God of course" or "Pogtopia still Used and Betrayed him even though they were upfront from the start and the alliance was a mutual agreement initiated by Techno actually but Techno didn't use or betray anyone, he was upfront from the start and the alliance was a mutual agreement, how could he have betrayed them?"

Which is actually Painful lately because THERE ARE ACTUAL POINTS YA'LL COULD BE MAKING THAT AREN'T COMPLETELY FALSE OR HYPOCRITICAL ACTUALLY!

I don't support c!Techno by any means, in large part because I don't think he believes what he says and even if he did he hurts the people in his attempts to 'help'. But i'd like to point out very easy arguments to make in favour of the ideology and stance many Techno apologists seem keen on arguing he has.

For example, what about the L'manburg election? Two of the parties committed voter fraud which actively put the liberty/freedom of the people at risk. There was literally One decent party who's entire reason for joining was literally "Hey that's really fucked up that you just tried to ensure your own governmental power through unfair means at the expense of the people's agency?" with a side point of "Also while we're at it maybe you shouldn't ban a whole group of people from your country entirely all because like Two people who happen to be part of that group hurt you, that's kinda messed up too" and then there was a fourth party who literally Opened their campaign by swinging at other people and manically declaring their power. In the end the guys who literally tried to rig the election and honestly should have been banned outright from running because of the blatant act of corruption still won popular vote and in a desperate attempt to mediate how Bad of a decision the people had made there the one halfway decent candidate pooled votes with the only dude who didn't commit voter fraud but then the people still suffered because the coalition was quickly completely overpowered by the more corrupt/violent party and literally no amount of attempts to make things better through begging him to listen or going behind his back to free people who'd been unfairly imprisoned or anything else along those lines could change the fact that "I'm the president here, not you~". This situation was really fucked up. Behind door number one we've got the Hamilton Cosplay Tyrants who keep talking about the Glory Days or the War Effort or whatever and won't let anyone who doesn't have a similar enough accent to them into the country. Door number two are the Baked Goods Tyrants who are using this election to promote their cookies and stick it to the candidates dad that he's cooler than him or whatever, they literally hack the voter count and are Known for dragging other people into petty conflict (and not like "fighting your oppressors is so unnecessary" anti-l'manburg bad take levels of supposed "petty conflict", i mean like, actual petty conflict, case in point the damn pet wars). Then with door number three there's the Alcoholism-Is-Cool Tyrant man who at least didn't fudge any votes but also has never not been drunk and literally hunted the other candidates for sport when he first showed up so I mean in what world is this guy a stable candidate for anything at all, much less for a position of authority over people as influential as president. Now, behind door number four, there's actually a...pretty decent option? The entire reason he joined to begin with is because he was absolutely enraged by the corrupt bs the others were pulling with their little "run a single party election" stunt. The other party's spread blatantly false quotes supposedly from him to make him look bad. The other parties go out of their way to burn down his builds. He's honestly relatively cordial in comparison but still hits hard during debates, mainly because he's got some points. "There's good in everyone", i've been told he'd insisted, trying his best to talk to one of the other candidates and get to know him only to be shut down entirely. There were three AWFUL candidates and one honestly good one. And yet the way the system was set up meant there was pretty much no chance of winning. Meant the people were screwed no matter what. The people trying to commit ballot fraud and slandering the competition were the ones who set the terms of the election, two complete randos who didn't bother signing up initially showed up drunk or trying to prove something to their dad and also just all around being Awful and they were still allowed to enter. Which all kinda fucked Quackity over, actually. And then he was forced to either let Wilbur have full control knowing how corrupt and manipulative he was or pool votes with the violent drunk and maybe swerve their shared administration into something good. The entire setup from the word go completely fucked over Quackity and that

completely fucked over the innocent people of L'manburg. And even going into their shared administration, Quackity was so powerless! Schlatt did horrible corrupt things to everyone and Quackity was there at every juncture trying his absolute best to mediate that. But there was so little he could do from his position that he had to resort to very non legal methods like breaking Niki out of jail behind Schlatt's back, standing in the blast radius while he tried to convince Schlatt not to go through with Tubbo's execution because they can't just take the shot with him standing in the line of fire trying to talk them out of it surely, and even eventually firing an arrow into Schlatt and being the only person to canonically have the guts to not only walk out of Manburg of their own free will openly spiting Schlatt, but the only person who had the guts to purposefully take a life from him as well. And. Well. THIS IS ALL A HUGE FUCKING ISSUE. There was no good reason someone corrupt had to win that election, there was even a decent candidate running! And genuinely for no other reason than because the alternatives were Really Fucked Up as well! Then the fact that Quackity, even as vice president, had so little say in anything that he wasn't even legally allowed to protect good people from wrongful imprisonment or stop Schlatt from tearing down priceless monuments that meant a LOT to people? That's so much worse. Corrupt people designing the system specifically to facilitate their corruption and lend an unreasonable amount of power to a select few people to the extent where the goddamn vice president, another member of the government, can't do anything legally to stop the president from doing horrific things. That's bad. That is actually really bad. And even beyond the bullshit of the election and how little Quackity could do about any of this despite literally doing everything he was supposed to and was legally capable of doing, there's the added layer of how little agency the people of L'manburg had in all of this! Schlatt's main political rivals were immediately exiled- and not even for the corruption scandal, literally just because they were Schlatt's political rivals- and he literally threw his dissenters in jail not to mention executing a kid and tearing down important history. I mean, he had an approval rate of Literally Nobody and was actively hurting/oppressing his people. And there seemed to be literally no impeachment process at all in place and when the people he was meant to lead unanimously took up arms against him THEY were criticized and labeled as villainous usurpers as the vague ideal of ~Legality~ was placed as more important than actual real life people. trying to live without a dictator hanging constantly over them! Schlatt's technical legal position is regularly cited as a mark against the Pogtopia revolution, because apparently Schlatt's right to sit upon a blood coated throne drinking his life away ruling a ghost town where nobody felt they could safely live was somehow more important than the rights of every single person who lived in and loved that nation to stay alive and feel secure in their own homes! In this case the government did fail. In this case corrupt people set up a corrupt system that boosted other corrupt people with no reasonable way for any single good politician to negate nor any way for the people themselves to change this. Not without going outside of the law and being deemed immoral for impeding on the rule of their rightful leader. This IS a situation in which the government systematically hurt and failed the people in ways that were near impossible to change or escape. THIS IS L'MANBURG HAVING A CORRUPT GOVERNMENT.

Look no further than mister Dreamwastaken for more examples of governmental corruption! I mean, sure, Dream never technically held an office, but his lack of title does nothing to change his position as the ruler of the Smp. Dream is the one who names and dethrones kings, Dream is the one who chooses which nations to legitimize and which to destroy, Dream is the decider of the laws of this land and he can add or remove them as he pleases down to exerting his permission to break even the most sacred laws of the server such as killing within the holy lands. It doesn't matter if Dream had a specific title, he was, by definition, Government. Government is "the governing body of a nation, state, or community", a governing body is the person/people with authority to conduct the policy, actions, and affairs of a state, organization, or people. Dream. Was. Government. Corrupt government! From the very beginning of the server exerting his supreme god given control over people who didn't want it! Lying, cheating, stealing, killing, forcing his will onto others, hurting the people constantly. Dream was an honest to god tyrant, even moreso than any other villain on the server had ever been! And if you look back at every other awful thing that happened in the series it links back almost without fail to him. To his control. I mean need I remind everyone that one of the primary reasons Schlatt wasn't forcefully overthrown sooner was because Dream was standing in support of his rule? Need I remind everyone that the entire reason L'manburg ever had to exist anyway was because unionizing and protesting and standing as a united front was the only way the people of the server could hope to escape Dream's unwanted and oppressive government? Dream stood behind the actions of damn near every terrible government official we ever saw as well with the one exception being maybe Badboyhalo. Dream was government and he was extremely corrupt. Like. BLATANTLY so.

And god, i'm still shocked by how little I saw Techno apologists talk about the fucking exile. I mean dear god. That was the accumulation of like Every shitty government problem in the whole server. I mean first off enter Dream being unreasonable and Awful again, obviously, I mean Tommy burned a few blocks, who cares, it was fixed in like five seconds and George didn't even care that much. But Dream used his position as, y'know, the governing body of the Smp, to blow it out of proportion and demand Tommy be unfairly and disproportionately punished. Not only did Dream's governing position enable him to do this, he took advantage of George's and Tommy's own positions as a means to twist the narrative in his favour. Dream blatantly exploited his government position, George's government position, Tommy's government position, and then worst of all Tubbo's. Quackity and Fundy desperately urged Tubbo not to go through with the exile, Ranboo swiftly snapped to Tommy's defense and called out that this whole thing was completely unfair, Tommy himself was completely dismayed and insisted this wasn't right. And it wasn't! Anyone could see that, this whole situation was a blatant abuse of government power in like ten different ways from Dream and the only thing to do was to shut him down! It would be a betrayal to everything they stood for, to their personal relationships, to the duty they had to protect innocent people, to general morality and basic principles, to go through with the exile, and the majority of people felt this very strongly. Wanted to protect Tommy and themselves from Dream's governmental abuse. But Tubbo did it anyway. This was the decision of two people and two people alone. Dreamwastaken and Tubbounderscore. But their opinions were the only ones that mattered, because they're the leaders. They're the heads of government. And if they spoke the command, to see that Tommyinnit were out of their territories where he would be tortured and abused for months? Then so be it. Then their word is law. Fundy and Quackity were struck with complete horror, they screamed, they pushed, they were in complete and utter disarray, and there was nothing they could do as long as Tubbo held to his decision because as we established back during Schlatt's reign, not even a good politician desperate for things to be better holds a candle to the decision of the president, and there's nothing that can be done, because he's president and they're not. Within much of the fandom Quackity and Fundy were criticized for "disrespecting" Tubbo's choice. Because what right did they have to speak out against the choice of the president? Tubbo was in charge, and it was their job to shut up and facilitate his decisions. That was an implication I saw often at the time. That because Tubbo was president, because of his title, his governmental position, his opinion was inherently more important and was absolutely not subject to scrutiny from those 'below' him. That the anger and hurt and fear of Quackity and Fundy, of real people, for their livelihoods and their safety and their friend, were less important than Tubbo's decision. This placement of Tubbo as 'above' the others and the implication that they are obligated to bite their tongues for the sake of 'respect' towards their president and his authority? It was complete and total bullshit. And I fully expected the Techno apologists to come out of the woodwork to affirm this! I fully expected to be able to agree with the Techno apologists for once, maybe not on every level, but at the very least on the level that this situation oozed governmental abuse from every pore and the idea that real people who felt hurt and scared and betrayed and angry because of Tubbo and Dream's little political nightmare were somehow out of line in their intense feelings because Tubbo's word is law and they need to show some respect to their government? I thought immediately that there was NO way in HELL this wouldn't be picked up immediately by the anti government Techno apologists!

But the thing is. It wasn't.

None of these were.

Techno apologists rarely acknowledge any of these actual examples of the government being really fucked up in favour of exhaustingly see through and hypocritical non examples to justify Techno's anti-government stance.

And, well, I highly suspect the reason for this is exactly the reason I can't support the perspective of c!Techno to begin with despite how I just went on my own rant about government corruption.

And that reason is because Techno, and by association the people who argue for his world view, don't actually care.

I mean, let me ask you a question. Just really, truly, honestly. In all of these examples of real honest to god government corruption issues from Wilbur to Schlatt to Dream.....who were the victims?

The people.

The people of L'manburg.

Tubbo, Niki, Fundy, Tommyinnit, Quackity. I mean they Kinda played parts in Some of these issues but usually under direst distress/manipulation from Wilbur or Schlatt or Dream.

The people who suffered, the people who's lives were effected, the people who were disproportionally hurt by all of the real governmental issues on the server are the people of L'manburg. The people who suffered under Schlatt's leadership, the child executed unfairly, the woman thrown in prison, the one politician who fought to make things right but was overpowered at every step, the people who lost their homes, the people who lost their friends, the other child exiled and abused for months for no good reason, the two who begged and pleaded and did everything to stop it only to be left powerless to protect him, even the young president himself cornered into this decision by fear and trauma and threats from somebody intent on exploiting the governmental dynamics to hurt people. Those are the fucking victims!

And nobody defending a Techno perspective can afford to acknowledge a situation in which the people of L'manburg are the victims!

It's a question nobody seems to know how to answer, really. The argument is made and even taken for granted as true that Techno things governments are corrupt and oppressive, he did what he did to protect the people this oppression would hurt. But who exactly are these people Techno protected? Where are these livelihoods defended? These lives saved? These homes maintained? These happy people Techno saved from the oppressive government?

The truth is that they're not real.

And the only people Techno ever managed to hurt were the victims he claims to be defending from the corruption of governments.

Now, the sources of corruption were Wilbur, Schlatt, Dream, and their policies. The way the elections were set up, the unfair power dynamic established by the corrupt first two presidents of the nation, and the control/abuse Dream exerted from his own governmental position. So naturally anybody who wants to actually tackle government corruption in the Smp needs to take care of them first and foremost. Get Wilbur and Schlatt out of power at least, get rid of Dream period, and then start reforming and limiting governmental controls. If not completely dismantling the government at least establishing things within L'manburg like actually effective checks and balances within the governmental body, setting up an impeachment process, putting harder vigilance onto what a president can or can't do, upheaving and adding more restrictions/rules/protections within the election system, etc. Outside of L'manburg would be trickier, however it likely wouldn't be too difficult to at least significantly alter/water-down the roles of Eret or George or whoever the king is at this point, again, if not entirely abolishing the role. The Badlands are a weird situation and honestly especially with the whole egg thing they'd for sure still be an Issue and a lot harder to reform but I mean to be fair their whole schtick is literally just being a corrupt government and trying to take as much land as possible and rule the world so what you wanna do there is use the same force you used with Wilbur, Schlatt, and Dream to disband The Badlands.

"Woah Woah Woah, you talk about that like it's so easy, that wouldn't be possib-"

yes it would be.

Schlatt died of alcohol poisoning before we could even touch him, Wilbur threw himself onto a sword with gusto, and Dream for all his bravado literally did not put up any fight once people got off their asses for two seconds to take care of him, okay? And again, The Badlands are a more worrying situation with The Egg and the amount of land they own and Sam's jurisdiction over the prison and all, but I mean from what i've heard via word of mouth pretty much everyone's canonically sick of their shit and are fairing pretty well thus far all things considered.

"Okay, fine, Beating People Up is easy enough, but what about the real work of government reforms?!? All these people are so Greedy and Powerhungry they'd neve-"

That's the whole thing, though, isn't it? They're NOT. Quackity spent literally the first two seasons at least as an active part of the government and he did fuck all for himself, he spent the whole time trying to stop Wilbur's corruption after finding out about his voter fraud or trying to stop Schlatt's corruption from hurting people or trying to stop Dream's corruption or trying to make sure his friends aren't abused/killed/jailed for no good reason or trying to keep their homes from being blown up again and the only reason he even got involved in politics at all was literally specifically because Wilbur was trying to run a one party election and SOMEONE had to put their foot down there, Quackity's always been very about Power To The People and preserving the rights/history of the people generally and has a history of stepping back into a less commanding role when he's secure in the knowledge that he doesn't Need to be taking charge or everyone might suffer/die/lose-their-homes-again. Tommy outright refused to be president when he was given the chance and has really consistently moreso cheered for the people he loves when they land in some sort of office rather than persuing leadership himself, and while he's been very willing to take up a leadership role when it's needed and people are in danger/in need of someone to step up and rally them, Tommy would really rather just listen to his music discs and spend time with his friends and pull a few relatively harmless pranks here and there and make big ugly (/lh/pos) cobble towers that he's so proud of anyway and doesn't seem to get why everyone else exasperatedly roll their eyes at them because he just thinks they're so neat! Tubbo is much the same, he took on a leadership position when it didn't seem there was any other choice but to do so but he's been content to play support for the most part other than that and really truly just wants to live a peaceful life with his bees and his best friend. Fundy and Niki actively chased the presidency at one point, of course, and I used their campaign as an example of corrupt bs as well, but honestly they were just dumb rebellious teens who didn't seem to get the weight of the election and just kinda like handed out pastries then lost miserably, so I mean, more than forgivable on their part, really, and for the large majority of L'manburg's history they followed in everyone else's pattern of stepping in when people need to be protected but otherwise just trying to live happy peaceful normal lives. This little group spent the large majority of their time in L'manburg just trying to defend themselves and their homes and each other from corruption and oppression so that maybe just maybe they could finally get to rest knowing that nobody's in any danger. If the danger went away, so would their need to step in. Quackity would go do some dumb (/lh/pos) bit where he puts on a ridiculous skin and sings even more ridiculous songs, Niki would be baking cookies and sharing them with her best buddy Fundy and anyone else who wanted to drop by, Tubbo and Tommy would be in a field somewhere watching the bees and listening to Mellohi while they giggle to themselves waiting for someone to find the big goofy posters they put up everywhere as a prank. That's who they were for the large majority of their arcs throughout L'manburg's existence. On the other side of things neither George nor Eret really care too deeply about the crown either. George only ever wanted a crown after he lost it, not because of the power, but because he was hurt by Dream's lack of regard for him. Eret on the other hand has a precedent of putting aside his crown for the wellbeing of other people and has long since resolved himself to be better than the person he used to be. None of them would be opposed to heavy reformation or even absolution of government powers. The entire reason L'manburg even exists is because of the fear and trauma and pain that came from the oppressive government force that is Dream and the people's desire to cling together for a chance at personal

freedom, with the threats gone they don't need to hold on quite so hard. These were never powerhungry monsters, these were victims of oppression and abuse and violence that spent their entire lives trying to defend themselves and their homes so they could just be happy and free.

These are the measures Techno SHOULD have taken! These are the people he SHOULD have been protecting! If he stands by his ideology that governments are oppressive and hurt people and if he truly did want to protect people from that oppression then why DIDN'T he?!?

Why didn't his morals and principals and desire to take down oppressors kick in during the festival when he was ordered by a tyrant to kill a child and did it instead of standing up and protecting the victims of tyranny?!? Why didn't he take Wilbur down when he realized how full of greed envy Wilbur was and that he planned to hurt people?!? Why did he, multiple times, work with Dream, the epitome of government oppression on the server?!? Why is it that the only people Techno consistently targets are the VICTIMS of the actual governmental oppression that Techno largely ignores?!?

And THAT is exactly why you don't see Techno apologists going on and on about how unfair the election was because of Wilbur or how the presidency in L'manburg was set up to where despite people trying desperately to push back Schlatt could not be opposed legally or how Dream is literally the most horrifically oppressive tyrant who is a prime example of how governments can be extremely corrupt. You never see Techno apologists going on about any of these ACTUAL issues because when you talk about Wilbur and Schlatt and Dream a bit too in detail a little bit of focus ends up on who exactly their victims were and there doesn't seem to be a good explanation regarding Techno's extreme actions only extending to victims of governmental abuse often in only minor roles of power if even that out of necessity to protect against the real oppressors. Why Techno's extreme actions frequently involved working alongside these actual oppressive forces against a group of people who literally want to be left alone and are only part of/live under a government like the one they do because they're in constant danger and this is the only way to maybe protect yourself and others against someone like Dream.

Tommy, Tubbo, Quackity, Fundy, and Niki shouldn't have been Techno's enemies. They shouldn't have been his targets! THEY hate oppressive government just as much as he does! They don't want anything to do with this bullshit anymore than he does! The side you see Techno Apologists claim he's on is literally THEIR SIDE. If he truly believes what he says and wants to fight tyranny then these are his allies! These are the victims he's so invested in looking out for! And yet these are the people he's slaughtering and bombing and aiding in the oppression of!

Techno apologism, by its very nature, requires you to see these citizens of L'manburg as oppressive. Requires you to see at least Tommy and Quackity as powergrabbing foolish tyrants who care more about the government then people. I heavily suspect this is the primary reason most Techno apologists aren't keen on looking at actual examples of this government corruption Techno talks so much about.

I mean, if you bring up the election in too much detail as an example, stressful little details like Wilbur's voter fraud and the fact that Quackity's entire motive for ever running for an office was to prevent government corruption. Which is a sticky scenario because Techno helps Wilbur in the end and seriously hurt Quackity in specific a Lot throughout this arc. Techno apologism relies a biiitttt too much at speeding by Wilbur real quick and hoping nobody points out that Wilbur wasn't motivated by a desire to get rid of governments but rather by a sense of envy and entitlement that if he can't have it noone can as well as relying on the ability to swiftly and decisively assert Quackity's motives as powergrabbing from the election onwards. Examining the corruption in the election itself throws that off. A Lot. When you have to look head on at Wilbur's corruption the fact that his "If I can't have it noone can" thing was a corrupt government official hurting the people out of envy and pride, and Wilbur's main source of contention being Quackity very quickly comes into focus as everyone suddenly remembers that hey, wasn't Quackity the only one who didn't commit fraud, and didn't he run in the first place to fight government corruption? And then Techno's role in all of this looks significantly odder and less in line with the claims that he's heroically opposing corruption. Furthermore examining the power dynamics of the tyranny within Schlatt's reign, you see a president with too much power enabled by Wilbur's shotty election system and Dream's vocal support, something outwardly opposed by the people beneath them; Tommy, Tubbo, Niki, Fundy, Quackity, who are all hurt by this abuse of government power more than anybody else is. Similarly the exile decision. Examining Dream as a tyrant is in of itself a sore spot on account of Techno's fairly frequent alliances with him. But even worse is what happens when you acknowledge the extent of Tubbo's power as president and the idea that his decision is inherently more important than the feeling of his people who he hurt, which is a good point towards the corruption of the government, but intensely highlights Fundy and Quackity's responses as valid or even correct, something that Techno apologists really can't do for obvious reasons.

Techno's perspective and actually defending it relies heavily on the villainization of victims and the understatement of real sources of corruption. It's a trade off, it seems. There are many points that can be made to form a very strong case against the government dynamics on the smp, something that would do wonders in strengthening the Techno Apologist claim that Government Bad, Anarchy Right, however this comes at the tradeoff of making it clear that the oppressive government forces come from people like Dream or Wilbur and not people like Quackity or Tommy who are the victims of said oppressive government, something that you REALLY cannot afford to imply if you're trying to argue that Techno was right and was working from a desire to prevent oppression when he worked with Dream and Wilbur to hurt Quackity and Tommy. I doubt this is intentional obviously because who the fuck takes a stance in discourse that they Know For A Fact Is False, lol, but if you believe Techno's right then you also have to believe the people of L'manburg are power hungry or tyrannical which means doing these mental gymnastics often without realizing it.

So we see these debates stick to examples like The Butcher Army, things that are significantly flimsier but also aren't liable to literally cripple their claim if examined too closely.

But the truth continues to be that Techno has irreparably hurt and traumatized the victims of the very kind of governmental abuse that it's so often claimed he's protecting people from. When he should have been fighting people like Dream, Wilbur, and Schlatt, and helping the people of L'manburg recover and reform their community, he instead attacked and destroyed and killed these people, often fighting alongside real tyrants in doing so.

I mean, hell, if Techno really was super against oppressive governments and wanted to fight/destroy them and help the victims? He and Quackity would be best friends. Quackity stood up against Wilbur's corruption at every turn and was the first person to do so, and if Techno actually fought corruption half as much as he claims to, he would have been right there with Quack rather than colluding with Wilbur to destroy innocent people's land. During the festival execution Quackity was trying his absolute best to put a stop to it and even stood in the blast radius while doing so, if Techno had cared half as much as he claims he does about tyranny then he wouldn't have taken the fucking shot, not with Quackity in the line of fire, not at Tubbo to begin with. Quackity realized that they needed to shake Dream off once and for all or they'd never truly be free from abuse of power from those above them, and if Techno really truly had a vested interest in freeing victims from governments that hurt them then he would have been right there at Quackity's side throughout season two. And yet not once, through the two seasons I watched of screentime with them, not once was there a moment in which they were working towards the same thing. At the festival, Techno had the chance to run or refuse or realign his shot to take out Schlatt instead and very likely would have made it out alright, meanwhile Quackity was actively putting his life at risk by standing where he was and making the attempts he was to make Schlatt see reason even though Quackity was pretty much unarmed, had a rocket pointed near him, and his entire life was in L'manburg, it was Quackity who had more to lose and Techno who had the chance to run, and yet it was Quackity alone who stood against the orders of a tyrant and voiced that this shouldn't be happening, and it was Techno who took not only Quackity's life but the life of a child as well when he took the shot anyway. As soon as he'd joined Pogtopia, Quackity was opposing Wilbur, standing besides Tommy in the button room and putting his own life on the line as well while they tried desperately to convince Wilbur not to ruin innocent people's lives, and yet Techno not only never put himself at risk to stop Wilbur, he actively collaborated with Wilbur, with a corrupt politician, as he planned to selfishly steal the happiness of the people just because he lost his own power. That's not even to speak of Doomsday, in which Techno, with actual corrupt politicians all around him, aimed weapons of mass destruction towards their victims, towards Quackity and everyone he loved. And of course, Techno wasn't there to help fight Dream, the L'manburg cabinet even suspected he may help, he's meant to be against tyranny after all, but of course, Techno wasn't there, and in fact allied himself with Dream yet again throughout the season. If Techno ACTUALLY followed through with his supposed principals, the people of L'manburg would have loved him, especially Quackity, who is very much similar to what Techno claims to be (someone who's fierce in his defense against corruption and who will fight almost without fail for victims of oppression and against harmful systems even if he's not always particularly palatable and nice and malleable in his regard towards tyrants), and the fact that they specifically have been played against each other at literally every single turn to the point where Techno, after having associated himself with helping fuckers like Schlatt, Wilbur, or Dream for so long, joined them on Quackity's list of people who've treated him with injustice, hunted him down, hurt his friends, and needs to be repaid- oh huh sounds familiar. Like Quackity is in a lot of ways what Techno would be if his ideology actually lined up with the heroic freedom fighter against tyranny ideology that's subscribed to him way too often despite the fact that he's either so weirdly out of touch he completely misread ALL the dynamics on this server or he genuinely honest to god doesn't actually believe in or care about his whole I Fight The

Immorality Of Government Corruption thing.

Hell, beyond literally Quackity actually, just look to Puffy for the actually honest and good aligned alternatives for people who say they want to fiercely fight against corruption and actually do it.

Idk man, it's just weird to me. I didn't even plan the ending of this post like at all, the premise was just supposed to be pointing out the actual government corruption and asking why Techno Apologists weren't on that but then the whole 'okay but if you pay attention to all that then techno's literally been targeting the victims of the corruption he claims to hate instead of helping them fight it' realization hit and I was like, Yep, His Whole Anti Government Ideology Still Doesn't Check Out.

#dream smp #dream smp discourse

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Rose Red’s All Hallows Eve: Preordained Position

Summary- 5.8k Curtis Everett x You. Your boyfriend got you tickets to a charity Haunted House, and the special features include immersed scenes from the movie of your choice. Once you hear that the one and only Curtis Everett from Snowpiercer is a part of the choices, you just have to go. Prepare for a night of apocalyptic fun! 

Warnings- Brutal Killing, Drug Use, Non Con/Dub Con, Swears. Read at your own risk. 

A/N- Written for @jtargaryen18 Haunted House 2020. Be sure to read the warnings for each chapter. The page dividers were made by @firefly-graphics​ , I highly suggest checking out her work, its really excellent and a bit of everything to choose from. The manor described in this story, Rose Red, is a piece of work from Stephen King, and I highly suggest watching the tv mini series, if you can find it. Perfect for this time of year. Special thanks to @what-is-your-plan-today​ for being my Beta in this project. Happy Reading and Haunting! 😈🎃 🌹

Chapter 2 / Rose Red’s All Hallows Eve Masterlist

“Why the fuck we keeping her?” Edgar sneered at you. You swallowed and looked away feeling a little more exposed now it was just the five of you left. Edgar, Grey, Nam, Curtis and of course you. Somehow you've made it this far. 

Curtis searched through the room, but found little of much use, his boot pushing aside children's bodies while he went through desks and bins. Straightening, he responded finally to Edgar’s question. 

“Because she's useful, Wilford’s pet. Even if he sent her to the tail end, he hasn't lost track of her. If we kill the bitch now, what leverage do we have? Besides, she gave us information. Before we came in this car, she told me to watch out.” 

You looked down and shrugged a bit. “I didn't know it was going to be like this.” 

“Well, we could have come out of it a lot worse. I should have listened.” Curtis paused for a moment at Tonya and reached down to close the woman's eyes, sighing at the lost members of their group once more. Moving to a stand and grabbing a hold of the handle of his ax, he nodded to Nam. “We move forward.” 

This time when Curtis jerked you to his side, it wasn't as rough, checking your shoulder with prods of his fingers. “This needs to be sealed off or else you are going to get weak and pass out. I'm not dragging you along.” 

You could already feel the pain and blood loss starting to tire you out. “Next car, it’s medical, dentistry… other stuff.” You try to remember, but it's getting hazier now, doubting yourself after all the differences you’d already encountered compared to what you’d expected.

“Medic. Good. We can get them to patch us up.” Curtis nodded as he gave you a gentle push forward. Nam opened the next door and you stepped through wondering what hell you were all going to find this time. 

Thankfully, it was nice, much nicer than any of the other carriages you have been in. Wide open rooms lined the sides of a red carpet, and Curtis peeked in each one in turn as you walked down the middle. Edgar and Grey remained at the rear, clearly on guard should anything pop out. But nothing happened, in fact the people filling this cart seemed to ignore each of you completely, which suited you fine. Curtis paused at a room which contained what looked like a doctor treating a patient, and steered you in there. For the first time since you’d entered this cart someone seemed to notice you two. 

“I’m with a patient.” The doctor remarked, pulling away with a needle he had been injecting the man's face with. You couldn't help the wince you gave at the man's now unnatural looking face, much like those grinning kids that would haunt you probably for the rest of your life. 

Curtis obviously didn't give a shit, using his axe to point at the door. “Get out before I carve your heart out.” The simple threat from this menacing man left the patient scrambling to get past everyone, scoffing when he brushed against Edgar and wiping the invisible dirt from his shirt. Edgar made like he was going to throw his own weapon, lining him up. “Be so easy ya know’ Just one fling.” 

“Edgar get your ass in here and let's get you fixed up.” Curtis grunted as he eased his coat off, and then you could see where his shirt had been shredded, unaware of just how much damage he had taken. 

At first concern bloomed through your chest, worried at what you were seeing. The doctor tutted as he started to patch up Curtis’s back, muttering under his breath. Then you started to remember this man kept you alive just cause you were useful, raped you because he thought you were nothing more then Wilford’s whore and your concern melted away as fast as it had appeared.

“Get over here Little Bird and let him look at your shoulder.” Curtis snapped when you were glaring at him, as he pushed off the seat. Just as he was moving to a stand, the doctor's hand whipped out from his jacket pocket and stabbed a needle into Curtis’s neck, pushing whatever was in the vial into his system. 

With a yell Curtis whipped around and grabbed at the doctor's neck, his fingers digging into the column of his throat, but he started to collapse. Behind you the same thing was happening to Grey, Edgar and Nam, all caught unaware by guards who had seemingly appeared from nowhere, each man crumbling down into a heap on the floor. The doctor wrenched Curtis’s hand off him, and stepped away, tossing the used needle aside. You backed into a corner as the militia men came to collect each one of your captors, dragging them away. You tried to follow as they took Curtis, but the doctor stopped you sharply. “Oh I don't think so Y/N.” 

“How do you know my name?” You snapped, trying to wrench away from him. This frail but surprisingly strong man smirked. 

“Wilford already filled us in.” He stretched your arm out and used a prepared needle to stab you, even while you tried struggling. 

“Where is he? He put me in this place” You tried to get answers, wriggling to get him to release you, but whatever he injected immediately hit you. This time when you started to go under, it wasn't nearly as painful as last time and the last thing you heard was the doctor's calming voice. 

“If you survive this next couple of cars, you will meet with him.” 

And then it was nothing but darkness, blessed darkness and you hoped to stay there for the rest of the time. 

You woke to hands pawing at you, hot lips on your neck and your body being tossed back and forth as parts of your clothing got pulled off. When your eyes sprang open, you seemed to be in a pit, loud people standing above you looking down at you, laughing at your expense as they stared at you like you were an animal in a zoo. They started pouring bottles of cheap champagne over you till you were spluttering from being unable to breath without inhaling the alcohol, and they sprinkled you with something foul smelling, Even blowing the powder down at your face forcing you to inhale it. What the fuck? You try rubbing your face when everything starts fading in and out of focus, a slurred giggle bubbling from your chest. “W-what?”

Suddenly Edgar pushed you back, joined by Grey while they both jerked your pants down and you squealed in shock at the two men, each one wild eyed and giving that unnatural grin that scared you. You tried twisting away from them, desperately attempting to claw your way away. “No, no not again.” you sobbed. Just as you had almost pulled yourself free from the pit, a laughing front ender shoved their foot against your forehead and pushed you back into Grey and Edgar’s arms where they started grinding their aching bodies into your ass, hip, wherever they could while they hotly panted against your face. Whatever they gave you was making you lose your will to fight slowly, and Edgar rubbed a handful back under your nose so you breathed it in once more. Your eyes swept down to see that it was kronole and you suddenly realized that was the reason your mind was so foggy. As that thought broke through the mist in your brain you tried pulling away but to no avail.

Grey’s hands pulled you down to lay in the pit all the time the circle of people above remained jeering at your impeded state while he rutted through his clothing against you. 

You were about to be raped again and couldn't stop it. In fact you were getting to the point you didn't care, the more the kronole messed with your senses. You went limp, the two men manipulating you back and forth between them, bites to your neck and shoulders, hands grabbing your breasts through your bra…

And then, your addled mind registered a roar of rage which came from somewhere above, and a dark shadow loomed over the group standing around your pit. You shrunk back in fear, as Grey and Edgar looked up in surprise. 

Curtis dropped into the pit, clearly out of his mind too from kronole, but he was far more intimidating. “She's mine.” he snarled, and slammed both men away from you. He grabbed your hips, and jerked you against him, and his hand moved into your hair, ripping your head back viciously enough to make you scream. “Just proving my point, you’re Wilford’s whore rubbing against these boys.” He bit against your lips and pushed you back to sprawl against the ground. Grey was the first to recover, going for Curtis in a rage for being interrupted when Curtis whipped around, grabbing Grey’s head and giving a vicious wrench, twisting it till it jerked at an unnatural angle before he tossed his body out of the pit. Edgar came next, eyeing Curtis as he circled him, looking to attack. You tried to pull yourself up the wall when Curtis wrenched you back into him. 

“You couldn't get away last time, you're not getting away this time.” Above the drugged onlookers cheered, breaking more kronole and sprinkling it down over the three of you. Curtis inhaled the powder deeply once more as it settled all over his face like a dusting of ash, and his pupils blew almost black suddenly. Dropping you, he twisted and attacked Edgar, the two men unevenly matched and equally out of their minds. Curtis had the upper hand being bigger and he ended up crashing Edgar's head over and over into the steel side of the pit, once his head was completely crushed in, he let him go and turned towards you. 

Curtis was nothing but a kronole crazed demon now his face covered in the green dust of the drug. The lighting above continued shifting back and forth as more people packed in to watch, but your depraved audience faded out as the man came stalking towards you…

And then that fog descended on your brain once more and you realized you didn’t want to stop him. You were a slave to the heat rising in your chest and the clenching of your core at wanting this man to fuck you, needing him to fuck you. You scrambled over to him and leaped to wrap your arms and legs around him, grinding yourself into his tented pants, your nails digging into his jacket. You knew that if you didn’t fuck him right now, you would have to someone else. He slammed you into the wall, crushing your chest against his hard one, clearly experiencing the same madness you were, that driving need to pound into you. Edgar and Grey had done half the work before you were drugged, but now Curtis and his dirty clothes crushing the air from you was making you hotter, wetness coating the front of his pants as you gave a grind.

“Fuck me.” You finally hoarse out while trying to open the front of his pants. 

Curtis grasped your wrist and easily pinned them back, spitting in your face. “Mine, that pussy belongs to me. Fuck those boys, and Fuck Wilford.” 

You nodded and arched to give him room to get his cock out, causing you to look up, temporarily blinded once more as the partying people started to pour and throw random stuff down at you, garbage, more kronole dust, pouring that cheap champagne. But you didn't feel the stuff bouncing off you, nor did you hear the jeers at how nasty the tail enders were. No, all you could feel was Curtis as he slammed into you. So fast and hard, that you locked your legs harder around his hip, his grunts at how you were so tight around him were nothing but whooshing air right out of his lungs. Setting a brutal pace, fucking you into the wall, he used your body harshly, bruising you and you didn’t care. You didn't care that he was fisting his hand in your hair, or that his teeth were sinking into your neck and shoulders while his grunts matched each slamming slap on your body against the wall. 

For you it was satisfaction at the burn, the hard rage he was forcing into your body. Your eyes rolled back while he arched himself to bite and kiss on your breasts, marking them with broken skin and lapping the blood that started to seep down your cleavage. It felt good, all so good that you couldn't hold yourself back and started cumming on his cock with no warning. 

“Curtis- fuck I cant.” you started as he angled your hips, dragging his cock through clenching muscles and bottoming out. Those grinds against your clit, started you right back up again. 

“Mine.” was all he said, his pupils still black soulless orbs, a grin that scared the shit out of you and you could do nothing but hang on once more as he used your body, marking you every which way, forcing you open around his cock over and over till you were ragdoll limp between him and the wall until he brought you off again, crying cause it was too much. 

Then he finally jerked into you, his cum bringing you back aware at the soreness of your body, the sweaty ache and rawness where you were rubbed against him, between your thighs, sticky with a sharp ache. Your mind cleared, suddenly aware of where you were an what had happened and you took a shaky breath, your head sagging back against the wall as you fought back tears of despair. Curtis slowed, panting against your shoulder, and when he lifted away, those blue eyes you were familiar with were back, confusion as to what had happened was creased in every single line of his face, and he let your hands go, numb as they fell. You swiped your trembling hand over his kronole covered face quickly to wipe it away and you jerked his shirt over his nose.  “Don't inhale anymore!” You pleaded and he pulled away, his hands falling to your hips to hold you standing as your legs were shaking. 

“We have to get out of here. What's the next car?” He yanked his jacket off and swept it around you, covering your mouth and nose with the collar  as you tried to figure out how you two were supposed to get out and through the people, who you now realized were also out of there fucking minds from the kronole. Curtis didn't seem to hesitate though, approaching the edge, he grabbed someone's legs and yanked, sending them sprawling and laughing, pulling them over the edge and kicking at their heads. “They are so fucking out of it from kronole and alcohol that they won’t put up to much of a fight.” He kept going, smashing people down till he could crawl out, shouldering others out of the way and reaching with his hand to grasp you. You tried not to step on anyone and held onto his hand as your legs were grabbed, one of the first people recovered enough to make a snatch at you. You screamed, kicking out your legs while Curtis pulled you up. People started to crowd against him, jostling him and also grabbing at you as he managed to get you over the edge and as you straightened up you realized they were trying to push you both back in. 

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” they started chanting while Curtis kept you against his chest, pushing you away from the pit. 

Now you two were alone, weaponless, and being crowded in a mob of frontenders yelling obscenities. “Come on fuckers, we want a show.” Someone grasped at your coat and yanked you into the mob of people, you tried screaming Curtis' name but you were jostled too quickly, shifting from person to person, and you could see Curtis pushing through, trying to keep an eye on you as he split the crowd apart. 

One thing that the frontenders were not was fighters. Curtis was easily able to shove and punch his way through. You ended up getting slammed into a giant steel door with a W on it, your head colliding painfully making you see stars and you were just coming around as someone was trying to pry open your coat. You slapped at him, and kicked him away, pulling it back closed. Curtis soon joined you, roaring for people to get back which for whatever reason they did, shrinking away enough so he couldn't hit them, making threatening moves to come forward again though hoping to intimidate him. The door behind you creaked, and you grabbed the back of Curtis’s jacket to pull him through, sure that you two would be safe.

 The next room was nothing more than computers. You remembered this part of the movie, realizing that you were near the front and hopefully the end of this nightmare. Once Curtis was through, you slammed the door shut, pressing your forehead against it with a sob of fear while the crowd rushed forward, feeling the steel door shake with the force. 

“Were safe, for now.” you said as you moved to straighten, and someone other than Curtis spoke. 

“Yes, finally I’ve been waiting for a few days now for you two.” 

A shiver racked your body as ice dread filled your veins and you looked over your shoulder to see Curtis shaking too. But not in the same way you were, instead he was trembling in adrenaline and rage at the man sitting so calmly before you. Wilford smiled at the two of you as he brought a fragile cup of steaming tea to his lips and slurped it loudly, smacking his lips. “I will say though, it's been a hell of a show. Sit sit! Coffee, tea? How about a night cap?” 

You tug on Curtis’s sleeve to try to get his attention, but he's hyper fixated on Wilford, shaking you off. He storms forward to get his hands on him when Wilford pulls a gun out of his robe, aiming it for Curtis. 

“Another step Everett, and I will not hesitate. SIT.” 

With a look of absolute hatred on his face, begrudgingly Curtis did as told, whilst you remained still pressed against the door, feeling the slams of bodies pound on the door. “Come Y/N my dear, you have nothing to be worried about.” Wilford said in a manner so happy you wanted to scream at him.  

Curtis's accusing and hurt eyes turned towards you after Wilford said that, and you shook your head at him. 

“I swear Curtis, it isn't like that.” although why you were apologizing to your rapist captor you had no idea.

“I fucking know what it was like” Curtis spat “This was all a set up wasn't it?” 

Wilford gave a chuckle as he poured liquor into fancy glasses, bringing them to the table. 

“Well yes, it was a setup Curtis. But I assure you Y/N didn't know.” He pushed the glass to Curtis, and his icy blue eyes twinkled in joy. “But this is the first time you've gotten this far in a while.”

His head whipped back to Wilford. “Gotten this far?” 

“Oh yes, you don't seem to like staying in your preordained position Curtis.” Wilford sighs as he finishes his drink. You listened intently, this too wasn't right. “But such is life… or death? More like this is our death. So, time for you to return.” Wilford gave a snap of his fingers, and Curtis stiffened, moving to a stand almost robotically.

“Curtis?” you whimpered out a bit seeing him stride back towards you, everything you knew about him was missing as you gazed up at him. He brushed past you, his hand cupped your face, thumb sweeping back and forth over your cheek before whispering. “I'm sorry…” he whispered in such a broken way, your mouth just dropped, gaping at him. Gone was the rage and fight, leaving just sorrow on his face and he slipped out the door back into the crowd. You spun around to watch him disappear into the mob, Wilford watching your reaction curiously. The door slammed shut suddenly, making you jump and spin around to face the only person left with you in the room. “Why is he sorry? I don't understand what is going on, any of this. Why is he just leaving me here with you?!” your voice breaks as you're saying this, so close to just melting down at the stress and fear that was taking a toll on your body. 

“He’s sorry because he knows exactly what this place is and that he caused it. You see, before Curtis was this tailend leader, He was head of a construction crew for Rose Red, back in 1903.” Wilford seemed to struggle with remembering the date. “1904? Anyways, he was laying the foundation of Rose Red, while I was honeymooning with Ellen. I didn't want her to see any of this half finished, so we were touring across the world. Curtis had one major deadline, to finish our house in two years. I received telegraph after telegraph of nothing but issues from him. Working conditions were subpar, men were getting injured or killed in accidents of construction. The demands were unfair, pay not enough.” Wilford rolled his eyes listing the complaints, you were just listening in silence still in shock at what happened. “Finally I had enough, sent back that he was to be removed from the ground by authorities and another hired to take his place. Simple, correct?” He asked as if you were to answer. After a few seconds of those icy blue eyes staring at you he went back to the story. “Curtis thought he had all this ‘responsibility' to his men.’ Something in him snapped, and that bastard tried to stop the train I had bringing supplies in from the harbor. Curtis didn't just stop the train…” Wilford gave a chuckle of disbelief. “No, his attempts derailed the train where it sits now. Screeching metal coming to a stop, and killing hundreds of men onboard, himself included. That day is when Rose Red came to life, all that death, all at once stains the earth, the blood soaking into the dirt while they perished in the smoke and flames, trapped in steel boxes. When something that tragic happens, it stains the earth, trapped energy that allows hell on earth.”

You shook your head in disbelief, snapping out. “Impossible, whatever this is… why didn't Curtis just end you, we made it. This sick game you're playing with us. That's all this can be. I paid for an interactive experience, but not this.”  

“Whatever this is, it’s your fate little girl, accept it.” Wilford cut you off with a snap, smoothing his hands over the fine silk of his robe. “And don't worry about Curtis Y/N, he will return safely to the tail end, and start all over again, that is the way it has to be, that is what fate Rose Red wants for him.” 

You could feel bile threatening to burn its way up your throat, you couldn't let yourself believe what he was saying, as it was simply impossible. These things didn't exist, they were books and movies, tales told to tell children to scare them into behaving. Ghosts? Haunted Houses. Your mind echoed Bryce’s words earlier that night ‘You know that shit isn't real’. So what was Wilford playing at? You finally snapped, giggling, turning into laughter. Wilford ignored you, till you started screaming at him.

“YOU GO GET STACEY, CAUSE I WANT THE FUCK OFF THIS TRAIN, NOW.” your voice kept getting shriller with each word. “WHEN BRYCE HEARS ABOUT THIS, YOU CAN BET HIS GRANDFATHER WILL HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY ABOUT THIS CHARITY FUNCTION.” 

Wilford arched one brow and chuckled, moving to a stand, and wrapping his fingers around the second untouched glass. “Stacey? Y/n, you know what you saw. Wasn't Stacy’s face smashed in?” You closed your eyes, pushing down the image, chanting in your mind, not real, not real, all pretend. “Matter of factually Y/N, you have Bryce to thank for your active participation in Snowpiercer.” 

Your eyes snap open at this, narrowing on Wilford “Bryce? What does Bryce have to do with whatever this all is?” you’re confused at why your boyfriend would be mentioned and you slide along the wall to keep away from Wilford as he comes closer to you till you bump into the table and fall into Curtis’s seat. 

“Why everything Y/N. You see, Rose Red Manor is indeed haunted. My wife Ellen, that is her domain. Your boyfriend happened to break in looking for some artifacts I came back with when we were on our honeymoon in Africa. They would be considered valuable now, but my grandson didn't care to have my collection so they remained in the manor. Bryce though, well he admired the pieces, wanted to study them.” Wilford gave a shake of his head with a sigh. “Bryce was of course killed by Ellen. Her rage towards me, makes her banish men's souls to the ground.” 

And then your mind recalled the story, Rimbauer infected his wife with some unknown disease while they were on their exotic honeymoon, that was why the rumors went that men who entered Rose Red were gruesomely killed, where women simply disappeared to never be seen again…

“Bryce isn't dead, I saw him. I talked to him tonight.” You shook your head

“Yes, he's very much alive now Dear, but he wasn’t for a time. His body was stuck in the house, ready to rot right where Ellen killed him. But she banished his soul from the house, and left Bryce's soul wandering the grounds, he happened to stumble upon my part of Rose Red, what luck.” Wilford sipped from the glass, swirling it a bit. “You know I miss the real stuff?” shrugging he set it down. “Bryce happened to find me, begging to be brought back, and would give anything to return to the living. I had no interest, all that matters is Rose Red has fresh souls to feed off of. But your boyfriend made a proposition that I was intrigued with. An innocent soul in his place. Do you know how valuable an innocent soul is? So much more to give, cruel I know, the unfairness of using something so pure and innocent to keep his parasite of a house alive. But I must do what can to keep my Ellen happy in life or death. It is my fault she has to live eternity like this.” His cold fingers traced your face, you wrenching back out of his touch.  

“No… he wouldn't do that, he wouldn’t sacrifice me…” you whispered, your throat closing and your heart slamming in your chest. And then the wave of realization crashed over you. of course he would. Bryce was the most selfish man you've ever met. 

Wilford tsked a bit. “Well one innocent soul isn't enough to feed Rose Red, to give the house enough energy to keep building like Ellen wants. The house must keep growing, Ellen’s soul would die and fade away if she couldn't keep adding more to her collection. I told Bryce two innocent souls, delivered by tonight, and he could leave alive and free. But don't worry, Bryce will pay eventually, you can't make a deal with a devil and expect to walk away untainted.”  

Not Stacey too. You screamed internally. No wonder Bryce insisted you take her as well. 

“I must be asleep, a nightmare.” You spit out, your hands shaking as you rubbed at them, trying to wipe off the dried blood, hoping it would wake you up, that all this was some kind of crazy your mind made up. Wilford almost looked sympathetic when he spoke again.

“I’m afraid not Dear. Bryce told me about how you loved this Snowpiercer story, so I figured if you're going to be condemned to this, might as well be enjoyable.” 

“I don't want to be condemned! Please how can I get out of this?” You started to figure out ways to bargain, like Bryce apparently did. But Wilford responded with a mere shake of the head.

“Ahh, that won't be happening. Innocent souls are much stronger. Rose Red can keep building now… many years on you alone. Ellen will be much pleased. Curtis also likes you as well, he was always one of my favorite victims of Rose Red.” Wilford leaned back in his chair. “Since he's banished to an eternity of hell, he deserves someone to make it easier. His own little songbird singing him hope. Any other girl I’ve sent him, he always ends up murdering her before he gets cut down.” 

You were whipping your head back and forth, pushing to a stand to start looking for a way out, anyway to get off the train, and Wilford just watched you for a moment processing all that he was saying. 

“If it's any help, you will be joined with Stacey again. Maybe your next trip to the front, you will manage to keep her alive.” Wilford moved to a stand as you tried to open the door, yanking on it to open, when he twisted you to face him, your bottom lip trembling as you looked up at him. 

“Please… I don't deserve this.” you whimpered. 

“You don’t Dear, but you're going to endure it as we all must. Very few victims of Rose Red actually deserve the fate that has befallen them.” He plucked the Rose from his breast pocket from earlier and laced it through your hair while you trembled, tears rolling down your face as you started to accept the truth of it all.

“You're not going to let me off this train, are you?” your voice trembled with defeat, and Wilford shook his head. 

“No, you now belong to Curtis Dear. His one reward for his life of hell. Although I will leave you with a parting gift. Your memory will remain so you can help him make his way through the Cars to the end. Save you from some of the pain of being brutally killed.” fear washed over your face and Wilford smiled gently to reassure you, although there was no way it was going to make you feel any better, be less afraid. “I will be seeing you again soon Dear.” Wilford said softly before he leaned forward and kissed your forehead, your eyes closing in defeat. 

You opened to darkness, gasping as you tried to understand where you were. It was intensely cold again, and a dim light came into your view, a tiny fire from a match. A familiar face loomed from the darkness to rake cerulean eyes over you, his head tilting as he looked you up and down. 

“Wilford sent us a present.” 

No, not again. You think as you're dropping to your knees to beg Curtis not to hurt you. “Please, have mercy on me.” 

“Mercy? Were we ever shown any mercy? I don't know what Wilford was thinking Little Bird, sending you back to me with this innocent act of yours. But don’t worry I will make you sing.” 

And then he gave a shake of his wrist, killing the match and plunging you both back into the darkness.

Your hell started all over again.

#jshauntedhouse2020 #curtis everett #curtis everett x you #curtis everett fanfic #snowpiercer #snowpiercer fanfic #rose red's all hallows eve #amber writes #sweater writes

[generalfoolish]

Ad'ika

ad'ika: little one

Rating: 18+ (minors take a hike)

Warnings: canon-complaint violence, burn injuries, Luke and Din fight

Word count: ~1.2K

Pairing: (eventually!!!) Din Djarin x F!reader

Summary: A Mandalorian recovers after a nasty fight

A/N: Hey babes! This is part of the #mandomay2021 prompt list. I'm working to get caught up, this is "Day 16" Enjoy 💕

Masterlist | Ramikadyc | Chaaj’miit

Let me know if you want to be tagged!

It had been six months since you linked up with Din Djarin. Six months of revenge. Six months of hunting and brutalizing Imperials. It had also been six months of soft touches, grief, and hiding.

Luke had convinced you to take a week, just one week, to rest. Din’s ship was barely holding together, and the only time you weren’t in space was when you had boots down on enemy territory.

Of course, neither of you wanted to do that. Neither of you had any intention of doing so, until the last one had gone sideways.

The intel was bad. That had fucked you from the start.

“No more than ten.” The informant had assured you, and you’d forked over the credits.

There were closer to thirty. Not just stormtroopers, either.

“No heavy machinery.” The informant had assured you. You had easily believed him.

A crikking AT-ST and two TIE Fighters told you otherwise. More credits, and more lies.

When you saw how outnumbered you were, you wanted to pull back. You had argued with Din to leave. But, he’d been unmovable in his resolve to see it done. He’d tried to reason with you briefly.

“We can take them out, and then they can’t hurt anyone else.” He’d told you softly, crouched in the nearby brush.

“If we can take them out.” You’d retorted. But his mind had already been made. The darksaber now hung from his waist, and you knew that it was influencing his choice. His decisions had become bolder and rasher, and when he had first brought the darksaber you wondered if it was a mistake.

Now, you know.

You’ve just woken up, and the past week is fleeting. You remember scorched skin and screaming. Only know, memory hazy, do you realize that both the smell and the screams had been your own. A direct hit from the TIE Fighter.

Din had managed to take one TIE down. The AT-ST was next, you’re own doing. Fast-thinking had kept you both alive so far, and the actual Imps ahd gone down easily. The last TIE though, it had circled when you were messing with the legs of the AT-ST, and you hadn’t noticed the red laser in time. You’d crumpled immediately, and now, you realized why. You were burned, badly. The freezing cold of space was doing nothing for your comfort. You were shivering and it hurt your skin, and you knew you’d already been given an injection. There was only one onboard, you had fought Din for it to be here.

“Too expensive.” He had muttered when you had suggested it. Expensive, but necessary, you had countered. He’d seen your way, and you were glad he wasn’t pig-headed and stubborn all the time.

He had saved your life. You didn’t know how, just that you weren’t dead. By all accounts, you should be. You should be just another crumpled body on the jungle floor, but Din had carried you back to the ship. You wondered where he was going now.

Your eyes were heavy, and you realized the medicine was still strong in your system. You didn’t want to think about how bad off you’d be without it.

~~

You awoke to steady babbling. When you opened your eyes, you were greeted with Luke’s warm face smiling down at you.

“You took quite the beating, ad’ika.” Luke told you, searching your face. You stretched a little, and grimaced. “I did what I could, but you were badly hurt. You’ll likely be sore for a few more days.” You moved every muscle, slowly. Testing everything out. The last time you’d been awake, you had been badly burned. Your skin seemed healed, at least.

“Was that Mando'a? Are you learning it, Luke?” You asked, trying to sit up. You were in Luke’s hut, and you wondered how long you had been out. You only wore a tunic, and you felt swampy.

“Ah, yes. Din has been teaching me. I was going to try to teach Grogu a few words, as well as Basic.” You smiled, the thought of Din and Luke over the fire sounding out Mando’a calmed your worry.

“That is nice. Thank you for everything. How long have I been out?” You watched Luke’s features cloud a bit at your question.

“It’s been a week since you arrived, but Din told me that it took another week to travel here.” You hissed at his words. Unconscious for two weeks was a bad sign, and the pain radiating from every cell of your body was another.

“I heard Grogu, is he close?” You asked, your voice much more watery than you wanted it to be. Luke nodded, and helped you to your feet. You felt better standing, but knew you’d never get far. You relished the opportunity to stretch out, regardless.

“Swamp thing!” You cried, exiting the hut, and seeing two ears peeking over Din’s shoulder. The babbling ceased for a moment, and then Grogu climbed further up his dad to see you. He was all teeth and gums, smiling broadly at you, and making grabby hands. You obliged happily, and sat down next to Din, already feeling weaker. He rubbed your knee, and gave you a soft smile.

It was odd to see him without his armor. You assumed he had stashed it on the Crest, waiting for you to heal. His edges seemed much softer without the steel, and you noticed that the darksaber was left behind as well.

“How’re you feeling, cyar’ika?” You leaned against his broad shoulder and sighed.

“Better now. Thanks for...everything.” You told him quietly. He huffed.

“It’s my fault. We should have never...I should have listened to you. Next time, I will.” He promised, and you smiled at his words.

“Our brave warrior is going nowhere, anytime soon.” Luke said flatly, his arms crossed. He looked disappointed, almost angry.

“I’ll be fine in a few days, Luke. You said so yourself.” You told him, playing with Grogu’s ears absent-mindedly.

“Because of me. Because I Force healed you. You could have died.” His voice was tense, and you could feel Grogu begin to understand the tense shift in emotion.

“We can talk about this later.” You warned, eyes darting to your lap. Luke’s expression softened, but his posture remained tense.

“Accompany me for a walk, Din.” Luke said, and Din squeezed your shoulder. You had a feeling a lot of tense conversations had been had while you were out. You watched them walk into the dense swamp, and dropped your eyes.

“How have you been, ad’ika?” You asked, and his eyes lit up brightly. The babbling started again in earnest, and you tried to stop thinking about the terse conversation hidden in the swamp behind you.

#the mandalorian #mando x you #mando x fem!reader #Din Djarin #Din Djarin x you #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x f!reader #star wars #Star Wars fic #luke skywalker #mando and grogu