#what do you MEAN you left him behind as a storyteller PLEASE

[arashi-no-saxlphone]

I'm thinking about Asuka again because I really can't get over him. I really hope they do more with him in the next game it makes me really fucking sad that he goes to the moon alone and basically plans to off himself (he kind of works it out but still). He can't play the role he wants to in fixing the world no matter how hard he tries and his two best friends in the whole world are no longer really in his life. I think part of why Raven likes him so much is that he gets it: "oh, no matter how hard you try to be helpful or human your strange abilities preclude you from getting what you want? Me too bestie I coped by becoming a massive masochist but fucking off to the moon is cool too." Please. Please. I'm nauseous it makes me so fucking sad I wanna rip my heart out and bite down on it.

#sairambles #guilty gear #asuka #asuka r kreutz #raven #fuck I need Raven in Strive I need him to have Asuka interactions #what do you MEAN you left him behind as a storyteller PLEASE #DO YOU GUYS REMEMBER HOW HURT RAVEN WAS WHEN INO TOLD HIM SHE WAS LEAVING #AND THEN ASUKA IS FUCKING OFF TO THE MOON??? #DO YOU SEE THE PARALLELS??? #ASUKA LOSES FREDERICK AND ARIA AND RAVEN LOSES ASUKA AND INO (+Jack-O) #I'M SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP WHAT THE FUCK MAN

[estrellami-1]

Keep You Company

So this happened because 1) I was babysitting and the little girl wouldn’t sleep until I laid in bed with her and my heart has NEVER been more full and 2) my dad’s an audio engineer with a home studio and my mom will just???? Sit in there with him????? He’s got a couch for when clients come over but 90% of the time if I can’t find either of my parents they’re both in there. I love my mom but I swear she’s tone deaf. Not to mention if any of you have heard someone else work on pitch correction you KNOW how annoying it can get after roughly .3 seconds. But she sits in there completely content because they just???? Want to be near each other????? After close to 30 years of marriage????? Where can I find someone who loves me the way my parents love each other. And the way Steve and Eddie love each other. Please.

Also side note if any of yall read Little Love I’m tempted to make this a future excerpt 👀 different name bc who knows if anything’s gonna come of this. and Joanie’s name comes from Joan Jett anyone who got that gets a gold star ⭐️ also Joanie is either 4 or 6. Idk which. But she’s one of those ages. Which if you know anything about kids you know there’s somehow no difference and yet every difference in the world between those two ages.

“Night, Daddy,” Joanie says, moving into Eddie’s studio to drop a kiss onto his cheek. “Love you.”

Eddie startles away from the computer screen, blinking as he realizes just how late it already is. The clock on his desk blinks 9:08 in red, incriminating flashes.

He smiles at his daughter and throws his arms around her as he stands, hugging her to himself and whirling them around the space, careful around the low coffee table. “Goodnight, my little rockstar!” He crows, peppering kisses to her cheeks and forehead, feeling laughter bubble up inside him in response to Joanie’s giggles.

“Daddy!” She shrieks, but doesn’t try to pull away. He laughs and finally puts her down, pressing one last kiss to the crown of her head as he kneels in front of her.

“Night, Joanie-bug,” he murmurs. “Sorry I’ve been stuck in here all day. I wish I could just play with you all day instead.”

He boops her nose and she giggles. “What are you doing?”

Eddie hums and picks her up, moving closer to the computer to save his project. “Well, y’know how Daddy’s in a band?”

“Yuh-huh.”

“Well sometimes, Uncle Gareth gets a note wrong.”

Joanie giggles. “Only Uncle Gareth?”

“Only Uncle Gareth,” Eddie agrees in a super-serious way that they both know he doesn’t mean.

“And sometimes Daddy forgets how not to be a perfectionist,” Steve adds from the doorway with a smile.

“Also very true,” Eddie nods, putting his computer to sleep. “But I did a lot of work today, so hopefully I should be done soon. How about for now, I do bedtime clean-up routine, and Papa can read you your book?”

“M’kay,” Joanie says happily, because she’s a heathen and prefers Steve’s storytelling skills over Eddie’s. Eddie wants to bite her cheeks, she’s so cute, so he does, takes a big chomp and makes a dinosaur noise that has Joanie shrieking and laughing.

“Okay, munchkin,” he says, swinging her around onto his back and trotting through the house, purposely jostling her. “Beddy-bye time, which means it’s time for teeth brushing!”

“Can you sing the song?”

Eddie fights back a groan. Somehow, he’d forgotten this was coming. “Sure thing, Joanie. Let’s get some toothpaste on that brush, alright?”

They do, and Joanie looks at him expectantly. “Sing it, Daddy! Sing it!”

“Brush your teeth, up and down. Brush your teeth, ‘round and ‘round. Brush your teeth from left to right, brush your teeth in the morning and night.”

He goes through the entire song, helpless to the smile that grows as Joanie bops happily along to his singing. “Okay, baby bug,” he says finally, standing behind her with a brush. “How d’you want your hair tonight?”

Regardless of the rat’s nest it will be in the morning, Joanie refuses to sleep if her hair is at all in her face. Steve and Eddie started with simple braids until she discovered the magic of YouTube tutorials, which makes the bedtime routine both longer and less mundane.

“Two Elsa braids,” she says, resolutely not learning the proper name and instead using the one Eddie had jokingly said once.

“Two Elsa braids, coming up,” he says, because it’s cute and he’s not going to dissuade her.

“Can we do beads?”

“Beads are a daytime hairstyle, ‘member, munchkin?”

Joanie pouts at him in the mirror. “But they’re pretty!”

“They are pretty, but they won’t stay while you sleep. They’ll fall out, and then you’ll wake up in the middle of the night ‘cause you’re laying on beads, and you’ll wake us up, and then we’ll all be cranky.” Not that that exact thing had happened.

She narrows her eyes at him, trying to find a way around it, then finally huffs and agrees. “Okay.”

“You’ll look pretty even without the beads,” Eddie promises her. “And Elsa doesn’t have beads, remember?”

“Yeah, but Daddy, Elsa’s got magic powers!”

“That she does.”

Joanie pretends to shoot Eddie with her Elsa powers, and Eddie freezes in the middle of the first braid. “I can’t move,” he says, not moving his lips. “You froze me!”

Joanie giggles. “Unfreeze, Daddy!”

He dramatically relaxes and sighs. “Oh, good! Thank you!”

He finishes doing her hair and chases her into her room, where she picks out her pajamas: a pink shirt with ballet-dancing kittens, and a neon-green pair of leggings. “Bold choice,” Eddie comments. “You wanna do it yourself? Or do you want me to help you?”

“I wanna do it,” Joanie says, just like Eddie knew she would.

A few minutes later, she huffs, frustrated. “Daddy, help,” she asks, just like Eddie knew she would.

He helps rescue her from her shirt that had somehow become sentient long enough to wrap around her head, then gets her pants on and tucks her into bed before pressing a long, loud kiss to her forehead. “Nighty-night, Joanie-bug,” he murmurs. “Don’t let the bedbugs bite.”

Joanie giggles. “Only Joanie-bugs allowed in my bed!” She declares, and Eddie chuckles. “That’s right.”

He moves toward the door where Steve’s waiting to press a kiss to his husband’s forehead. “Sorry I was so busy.”

“You were working,” Steve murmurs. “It’s fine. I’ll come join you when I’m done, m’kay?”

“I’m gonna be in the studio for at least another hour tonight, babe,” Eddie says apologetically.

“Then I guess I’ll come keep you company.” He presses a quick kiss to Eddie’s lips before shoving him out the door. “Go work, I’ll be there in a bit.”

“Sir yes sir,” Eddie salutes, marching back to his studio.

The next time he surfaces, it’s to a tugging at his sleeve. He blinks, glances at the clock—10:37—and turns, ready to apologize to Steve, only to see Joanie.

A quick look reveals no Steve anywhere in the studio, so Eddie thinks he’s probably in bed. “Hey, munchkin,” he murmurs, picking her up and setting her in his lap. “We put you to bed an hour ago, what’s going on? Bad dream?”

Joanie shakes her head before resting it on Eddie’s shoulder. “Papa’s snoring.”

Eddie blinks. Steve does snore, but not loud enough she should be able to hear it from her room. “Oh,” he says quietly. “Did he fall asleep before finishing the story?”

Joanie nods against his shoulder, and he sighs as he cuddles her closer, once again saving his project before completely shutting the computer down for the night. “M’kay, Joanie-bug, let’s go get Papa into his own bed.”

“Daddy?” She asks on the way to her room.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Why’s Papa so tired?”

Eddie sighs. “He’s a teacher, sweet pea. He does a lot all day. And he loves his job, but it is very tiring. Then he comes home and cooks, ‘cause he’s better at it than I am. And there’s a lot of stuff that needs to be done around the house.”

Joanie’s quiet for a second. “And me?” She finally asks.

Eddie’s heart stutters painfully. “No, baby,” he murmurs. “Your Papa and I love you, so much, okay?”

“Okay,” Joanie agrees, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I love you too, Daddy.” After a few seconds of thought, she says, “Are there cooking videos on YouTube? Like for hair?”

Eddie blinks. “To learn how to do it? Yeah, I think so.”

Joanie nods. “You should watch those. And cook for Papa.”

Eddie chuckles. “Maybe I will,” he agrees, stopping short in the doorway to smile at the sight in front of him.

The bedside lamp is on and Steve, glasses askew, is halfway on the bed, on top of the covers. The book is open in his lap, hands still holding on to the sides. He is, as Joanie had said, snoring.

Eddie kisses Joanie’s forehead and puts her into bed beside Steve before taking the book from Steve’s lax hands, shutting it and putting it on her bedside table before kissing Steve’s forehead. “Stevie, baby,” he murmurs. “Wake up.”

Steve’s eyebrows scrunch and his eyes flutter beneath his closed lids before he takes an extra-deep breath and his eyes open. “Eds?” He murmurs. “What’s wrong?”

“You’ve gotta get up,” Eddie murmurs. “This isn’t your bed.”

He watches as Steve processes his words then looks around. He sees the confusion morph into understanding when he sees Joan. “Oh,” Steve murmurs. “Sorry, Joanie.”

“‘S okay, Papa,” Joanie answers. “You should go to bed.”

Steve chuckles tiredly and kisses her forehead. “I am, right now,” he promises. “Night, Joanie.”

“Night, Papa. Night, Daddy!”

“Night, Joanie-bug,” Eddie answers, wrapping his arm around Steve’s waist, half as a hug and half to help his husband stay steady.

“Sorry, Eds,” Steve murmurs. “Meant to join you.”

“It’s alright,” Eddie promises. “How about tomorrow I take Joanie out early for breakfast and let you sleep in?”

Steve frowns. “But you have work.”

“I’ve done the majority of it already,” Eddie answers. “You could take her out tomorrow afternoon if you want. Or just have a movie marathon here. I’ll finish up what I have to do. Tomorrow’s Saturday, right? So I’ll finish tomorrow, then Sunday I can make waffles for all of us. How’s that sound?”

Steve hums. “Good, ‘sides the you cooking part of it.”

“Oh, you little shit,” Eddie says delightedly, pressing a kiss to Steve’s temple. “Just you wait, you’ll understand the power of YouTube tutorials.”

Steve chuckles, quiet, tired, but no less full of love. “I can’t wait.”

Permanent Taglist (which I’ve been COMPLETELY terrible at I’m so sorry I promise I’ll try to do better): @justforthedead89 @ilovecupcakesandtea @madigoround @bookbinderbitch @suddenlyinlove @nburkhardt @artiststarme @paintsplatteredandimperfect @i-less-than-three-you @alyelf @quarble @messrs-weasley @littlewildflowerkitten @vankaar @starman-jpg @bornonthesavage @steddie-there @goodolefashionedloverboi @andienotannie @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @platinum-sunset @just-ladyme @steddiestains @swimmingbirdrunningrock @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @martinskis-lydias @notaqueenakhaleesi @sleepyboosstuff @bestwifehaver @m-owo-n @thatonebadideapanda @finalmoondragon @velocitytimes2 @callmeanythjing @ajeff855 @ilikeititspretty @knitsforthetrail @sillysparrow @that-one-corvid @ace-is-bored @muricel @harpymoth @weirdandabsurd42

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #kid fic #is this what constitutes a kid fic? #or is that when the characters turn into kids #asking the important questions here #it’s 3:20am #I wrote this in like. two hours #send help #just an excuse to write fluff honestly #starambles

[hyunjins-orange-slice-too]

nightmare

genre: comfort

word count: ~1.5k

warnings: nightmare, mentions of death and fear, pet names, Chan is low key mean for a sec, reader has curly hair, reader has glasses, she/her used, I think that’s all.

synopsis: while recording in the studio, you have a nightmare and chan comforts you. written in third person for easier storytelling from both perspectives.

masterlist

She spent lots of time in this studio, always with her boyfriend and his friends, who were more like brothers to her. They were ‘famous’ or whatever but that was so easy for her to forget sometimes. When hyunjin would come in to record with his hands covered in dried paint, when Changbin would yell at his phone over the current score of the soccer game, when jeongin would drag himself into the booth and sleepily rub at his eyes before absolutely nailing his part, they all just seemed so normal to her. It was always strange to her when they went out for lunch and people would recognize them on the street, screaming their names and asking for pictures. It was those times that felt strange to her, like those screaming fans have no idea what these boys are actually like. Her boys. Ever since the beginning of her relationship with Chan, she had always gotten along well with his ‘kids’ as she liked to call them. But now, after years of being together, they were more like family to her. They were her kids just as much as they were his and she loved them all so very much.

Todays studio session was no different than the others. Felix had just finished recording and she peeked up over the pages of her book to wave and tell him goodbye as he left. She sunk deeper into the couch, returning to her book as Lee Know entered the booth. Things were going well, Minho having no trouble at all with his part. Just then a draft moved through the room, brushing against her skin and giving her goosebumps. She shivered.

“Yeah just do that part one more time and we should be good." Chan said into the mic. Minho nodded and waited for the guide to lead him in. Chan swiveled his chair around to check on her. She had her knees pulled up to her chest, her arms wrapped around her legs, her hands propping open her book. She was the most beautiful thing in the world to him, her curls falling loosely around her shoulders, her glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose. She pushed them back up with the tips of her fingers before she let out a shiver and hugged herself tighter. She must be cold he thought. He slipped his black hoodie over his head and off his body before tossing it in her direction. It hit her square in the face. She looked up, startled out of her fantasy land. Chan chuckled at her expression. "You’re shivering, baby. Put that on please."

"All done?" Minhos voice came from the booth. Chan turned back around, holding the red button before saying "yeah, sounds great." Minho exited the booth, walking past Han who was on his way in to record his part. With a light slap to Han’s backside, a silly face to Chan, and a gentle wave to her, he made his way out of the studio. She picked Chan’s hoodie up off the floor where it had fallen. She slipped her arms inside and brought the material over her head. It was warm, and smelled like him. The hoodie swallowed her, enough so that she could pull it over her legs as well. She pulled the hood up over her head, and the sleeves fell down over her hands. It felt like a big hug. She felt so cozy and safe, now so warm and surrounded by the scent of her favorite person. She could faintly hear Han singing, and Chan giving a few notes, before her eyes fell closed and her head hit the back of the couch.

—

He had been in front of the mic for what felt like hours, unable to get his part perfect. He was getting frustrated, and needed a break. Han was trying to give Chan direction, but it still wasn’t coming out now they wanted it to. He noticed her sleeping on the couch behind Han, swallowed up in his hoodie. He loved seeing her in his clothes. Even though everyone knew she was his, they had been together for so long, seeing her in his clothes made him feel better, like she was physically marked as his. He hung his headphones over the stand in front of him and exited the booth. He returned to his chair, combing his hands through his hair as he complained to Han. He could hear her moving in her sleep, and making quiet sounds.

"She’s been doing that for a few minutes." Han said. "She even said your name once I think."

Chan turned to admire her, she always looked so cute while she slept. But this time, her face was scrunched up, her eyes as tight as she could get them, her hands balled up in the black material surrounding them. She made a louder noise this time, her head falling to one side. Chan looked at Han "She’s been doing that?" Chan asked, jumping up from his seat.

Han nodded. "Why didn’t you fucking tell me?" Chans words coming out harsher than he intended. "She obviously having a nightmare." He rushed to the couch, kneeling on the floor next to her sleeping form. He reached out and gently took her hand in his. Rubbing softly back and forth across her knuckles he tried to wake her. "Baby? Are you having a bad dream? Wake up, sweetie." He gently shook her shoulders before her eyes flew open, wildly looking around the room. Her scared gaze landed on him and her eyes instantly filled with tears.

"Chan?" She choked out.

"Yeah baby, it’s me. Im here."

She flung herself at him then, wrapping her arms around his neck and squeezing him so tight. "You’re okay? You’re real?" She said through sobs.

Chan was startled at first, but quickly returned her embrace, rubbing soothing strokes across her back. "Of course I’m real, baby. You were having a nightmare."

She pulled back to look at his face. His heart broke at the sight of her tear stained cheeks, the snot under her nose and the fear still in her eyes. "Channie, it felt so real." She hugged him again.

"I know, baby. It’s okay. It’s over now." He kissed the top of her head. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"You- you-" she choked on a sob. "Plane crash- and you-" she couldn’t get it out but Chan could piece it together.

"Did something happen to me in a plane crash?" He asked. She nodded, pulling away to wipe at her nose with the sleeve of his sweater.

"You were a-all on the p-plane and it crashed. Everyone was okay, but you- you were helping seungmin w-with his seatbelt an-and you didn’t have time to p-put yours on and-" her body was still shaking, tears still flowing down her cheeks as she looked at him.

"Oh, princess." Chan said quietly, wiping her tears away with his thumbs. "Im sorry, baby. It’s okay though. Im fine. No crash, yeah?" He smiled at her. She nodded weakly. "Im fine." He told her again, before leaning to the side and gesturing toward Han. "Han’s fine. It was just a dream."

She was slightly embarrassed at the state in which Han was currently seeing her, but he smiled at her reassuringly.

She wiped at her face again with her sleeves. "Just a dream." She repeated.

"We’re done recording for the day, would you like to go home?" Chan asked. She nodded. He helped her stand from the couch and he grabbed her book and his laptop before wrapping his arm around her and heading for the door.

He looked toward Han. "Im going to get her home." He told him. "I’ll see you tomorrow at practice, yeah?" Han nodded, gathering his things. "And, I’m sorry for being mean earlier. I was frustrated with the song and worried about her. I shouldn’t have talked to you like that."

"Talked to him like what?" She spoke up, voice strong now. "What did you say to my Hannie?"

"He yelled at me for not ‘fucking telling him’ you were having a nightmare." Han laughed.

She slapped Chan on his arm, pushing him away. "He didn’t know! Don’t you be mean to him, he’s just a baby."

Chan rolled his eyes. "He’s a full grown man, and I know he had no way of knowing you were having a nightmare. That’s why I’m apologizing. Now come here." He pulled her close again, kissing her forehead. "Such a protective mom, huh?" He said, chuckling.

She grumbled under her breath, leaning into his warm hold on her.

"Really am sorry, Han. Won’t happen again."

Han patted him on the shoulder. "S’okay hyung. But, I’m afraid I have to tell Lee Know."

The color drained from Chan’s face. He stuttered and stumbled over his words. "Don’t- you don’t- I didn’t-"

She and Han just laughed as they shut the lights out and headed for the elevator.

🚨reminder: this blog is 18+ only. i’ve been getting a lot of new followers (which i greatly appreciate) but if there’s no age identifier on your blog, i’m blocking you no questions asked. (for my own sanity and peace of mind.) ik some people don’t actually go to my page to read the warnings, so im going to start attaching a warning at the bottom of all my posts. thanks for understanding. 💕

#stray kids #bang chan #stray kids x reader #bang chan stray kids #bang chan x reader #stray kids imagines #bang chan fluff #stray kids bang chan #bang chan comfort #stray kids comfort #han jisung #hyunjins orange slice too

[viviane-lefay]

AU for Dagan & Santari

… because I absolutely can't accept how things turned out for them - therefore, I made my own, preferred scenario for them.  

I’m not much of a writer, I’m afraid, and I don’t have much experience in storytelling, so this text will mostly be of a descriptive nature, like a plot, if you will - with some parts in between where I comment on certain aspects, sharing my opinion on them. It’s a bit chaotic, but please bear with me. ^^;;

Of course this is just my headcanon, based on my take on these characters & their relationship (more about that here & here), as well as my personal preferences. I mainly wrote this for myself, after all – and, hopefully, some like-minded others.

Anyway, please be nice! If you like it, then that is great - even if you only like some parts … just pick whatever resonates with you. And if you don't - please keep that to yourself, ok!?

Here's (roughly, for now) what I had in mind:

~*~

From what is shown in the game, there is no information about what happened to Santari after she left Koboh.

What if she, after she realized that Zee failed her mission, and there was no one left to release Dagan from his stasis (who would likely remain like this for a prolonged period of time), put herself in a stasis too, linked in duration to his (and, hence, didn't die), because ...

she just couldn't let go of him like this, refusing to give up on believing in him

but also felt that he needed to make a decision for himself, which path to choose undistractedly, and therefore didn't go to release him herself (which he, unfortunately, misinterpreted as yet another abandonment upon his release by Cal - but, then again, he was still traumatized by her turning on him during their last encounter).

Since she left Koboh for good with the remaining ships, it struck me as rather odd that, in the game, you can find her lightsaber hidden in a chest there, located in a sealed passageway.

Why is it on this very planet, of all places!? Shouldn't it rather be in her latest location? Or did she even leave it there on purpose?

Knowing of the significance of the saber for the Jedi, as well as the importance to never lose it (“This weapon is your life.” - Obi-Wan, Ep. II), it makes me wonder if she left behind the life of a Jedi, and just remained a scientist. Since being a Jedi was such an important part of her life, this must have been a very profound decision to make, and maybe even a sacrifice for something of even greater importance to her.

Frankly, her complete disregard for the Jedi council's decision, as well as her further plans, make it pretty clear where her true loyalties and priorities lie - and it's not the Jedi order in this case.

You can see that illustrated very well in the game, when she refuses to turn him in, disobeying a direct order by the council by doing so - which, in itself, is already a huge crime, given his actions and how powerful and dangerous he is. Then, she keeps what happened to Dagan a secret, hides him from them, plotting for him to get away with it all and reach his goals nonetheless.

That she also plans to reunite with him after he is released from stasis indeed raises the question of her potentially having left the order – because to them he is a wanted criminal now – and it would make no sense if she lead him into a trap when she had already put in so much effort into his protection. Imho, her leaving because she chose the man she loves over the Jedi order is definitely the most likely explanation.

That she turned on him in the end is not because of his open rebellion against the order, or his plans regarding Tanalorr - after all she rebelled in her own way, albeit in a more subtle, hidden manner. Her and his goals were the same … the means, however, weren't.

And that is exactly where the problem is - the way he went about it - especially with him turning to the dark side.

She was clearly desperate, terrified to lose him because of this, and tried to stop him for that very reason. She wanted to prevent him from going further down that road.

Ironically, he wasn't able to see that, and, of all things, it was her (perceived) betrayal first and foremost, that caused his actual fall, and further descent after being released from stasis.

Her severing his arm was a complete kneejerk reaction, borne out of her despair, and I’m inclined to believe that it weighed quite heavily on her, and would haunt her from then on.

In the flashback scene you can clearly tell how distressed she is, inside, despite her somewhat level-headed demeanor. How she immediately rushes to him and holds him, calling out for help. Only after he's fallen unconscious, she gives vent to her feelings, doubles over and cries (you can't see her face, but it's fairly obvious that she does).

Aside from the arm issue, their confrontation was quite faltering anyway. You could really tell that neither wanted to do this, let alone hurt the other.

Especially with him, this becomes evident, given what he did to the other Jedi who opposed him, and what he is capable of, combat skills - wise. (I'm sure, Santari is proficient with her lightsaber, but she's not a warrior, like him, who is renowned for his outstanding skills as a duelist. She would have lasted some time, I'll grant her that, but not for long.) Instead he just shoves her away via the force, and also just lightly.

~*~

Anyway, here’s a description of one of the key scenarios I had in mind:

After awakening from her stasis and coming to terms with the historic changes that have taken place, galaxy-wide, Santari prepares for her return to Koboh. Once there, she keeps a low profile, as not to catch too much attention, and to just gather information on the recent happenings there. Troubled by what she learned, she decides to act instead of taking a more passive, observant approach, as she planned earlier.

She barely made it to the observatory in time to interrupt the fight between Dagan, Cal, and Bode, that had just started.

Her sudden appearance unfortunately heated up the situation any further, throwing the already upset Dagan into complete turmoil.

She tried to reason with him, but he was too caught up in his feelings of betrayal, and the version of reality he had so carefully constructed to endure and justify everything, that he just wouldn’t hear her out – not before Tanalorr was secured.

But he would not attack her. After all that had happened between them, he still did not hate her. Anger, yes, resentment for her actions, but hate ... he couldn't bring himself to feel that way towards her - and never would.

Instead, he quickly redirected his rage towards Cal again, and the fight resumed, more furious than before.

Bode, who was getting impatient, inserted himself at some point by starting to fire shots from his blaster at Dagan in quick succession, which were all blocked, but one. Normally, this wouldn't have been a challenge for Dagan, but the whole situation with Santari had thrown him off balance, and he lacked his usual poise.

The damage was but minor, but it jolted not only Dagan awake again, but also Santari, who had been watching the scenario unfold in grief-stricken numbness.

Seeing their chance, Cal and Bode started a coordinated attack from different directions.

This time, he would have been able to both parry Cal's blows, as well as deflect Bode's shots, but an alarmed Santari rushed behind him to block the blaster shots, just in the moment as he spun around and set out to do so himself.

It happened too fast even for him, too unexpected, and the moment was already over before the realization about what had occurred crept in. He could only watch in dismay as his blade struck her, see her falter and fall, only to be caught by him, just before she would hit the ground, and hear himself crying out her name, holding her seemingly lifeless body in his arms, as the world zeroed in on her and her mere existence, and a wave of mind-numbing pain and regret washed over him.

As he holds her close, he notices that she is still breathing, albeit weakly, and thus still alive, despite her serious injury. Desperate to save her, he carefully picks her up and sets out in a rush to carry her to the nearest medical facility.

Just as he got up, an incensed and clearly impatient Bode steps in his way and shouts at him, demanding the compass, which at the time is still in Dagan’s possession.

Aware that any further delay would come at the cost of Santari’s life, Dagan, who is beyond caring at this point, snatches the compass from his belt and dismissively tosses it in Bode’s direction, before storming off.

~*~

Frankly, in his case I think a profound shock such as this is necessary to snap him out of his rather set thought- and behavioural patterns and to truly make him question his actions.

It is also important that it was Dagan, of all people, to strike her down, and not her being hit by an attack by Bode or Cal. If it had been the latter, it wouldn’t have had such a transformative effect on him in the way the proposed scenario did, as it would have just provided an opportunity for him to further project onto others, and to redirect his anger towards his opponents any further.

Accidentally hurting the woman he loves, himself, with no one else to lay the blame on, would finally be the catalyst for him to shift his focus inwards and recognize the error of his decisions and actions - that it was his own pride and obstinacy that led to this outcome - and then to take accountability.

Above all I want him to realize (or rather remember) that he loves Santari more than anything in the universe, that he would do anything for this woman, and would gladly sacrifice anything for her - be it Tanalorr, his pride, any other ambition of his, whatever the cost - that all these things are meaningless without her, and that he is willing to forego it all, if only she is alive and well.

Basically, I want them to have this "reverse anidala" theme, where the man's love for the woman, and his strong attachment to her, instead of spelling his doom, ultimately is the key factor that saves him from the dark side, initiating a profound transformation within him, which also leads to his redemption arc.

You know, in Star Wars foreshadowing (especially via dialogue) has always been a huge theme. More often than not, there was a deeper meaning hidden somewhere, which would become evident during the course of the story.

A prime example of this is Obi-Wan's remark to Anakin: "Why do I get the feeling that you're going to be the death of me?", or when Anakin says to Padmé: "The thought of not being with you - I can't breathe." These are all allusions to things that have not yet come to pass, but eventually will.

In Dagan's case, this one line, spoken to Santari in a Force Echo, really stood out to me as such a potentially prophetic statement:

"You're the only one who can guide me back."

In the scene itself they were talking about Dagan's perilous mission to fly into the Koboh Abyss. I found the choice of name for this nebula quite interesting on a symbolic level, as the word "abyss” (which, in myth, was a term used to describe the underworld, and even the hellish realms - a dark and dreadful place) could very well stand as a perfect analogy for the dark side, and getting lost therein.

As we saw, Santari’s betrayal and her loss of course had been a major factor in his fall, there is no deying that (for instance, we see that this particular memory was the crucial one to truly complete the bleeding of his lightsaber’s kyber crystal).

In the game's canon, however, we are merely confronted with a missed opportunity. There was no Santari anymore - she was long since gone - so he had to deal with this ultimate loss on top of his already existing trauma, and all that was left for him was to cling like a madman to the only remaining thing that had a connection to her, which was Tanalorr. And it was pretty clear that his emotional ties to Santari were a pivotal aspect of his obsession with this planet.

So, in my AU I want to explore what would have happened, if Dagan had been given that chance, and Santari would have been there, after all, "guiding him back" - or rather her being the catalyst for him, to give him the hope and strength to walk this path himself, as it actually is his love for her that truly guides him back:

That this would be possible is pretty much a given, as there were other characters that were way further gone, darkside-wise, than he was, that also turned back to the light - prime example being Anakin Skywalker, of course.

(The original) Star Wars has always been all about hope, faith, and making the seemingly impossible possible – at its core it has always been deeply optimistic, with a firm belief in and emphasis on the good in mankind. If you're looking for nihilist, cynical portrayals and outcomes ... sorry, wrong universe. (If that is the shit you want, then try Game of Thrones, ffs!)

No one believed that Anakin could be saved, except for Luke, and Padmé, who expressed her unwavering faith in Anakin's innate goodness and his ability turn back with her dying breath.

More cynical minds would probably say that both Luke's, and Padmé's judgements were clouded by their feelings for Anakin - except that this wasn't the case - quite the opposite, in fact.

As for Padmé - she might not have been able to acknowledge the warning signs of his imminent fall in the moment, but she certainly felt that something troubling was going on. However, concerning the nature of his being, her perception couldn’t have been any more accurate.

After all it was her, who had this profound and intimate connection to him, who knew him better and deeper than anyone else, and, for that very reason, was able to perceive something in him that the others just couldn't. And she was a woman with a sharp mind and common sense, and her reasoning was absolutely sound.

And, yes, she was vindicated in the end!

I see that very much mirrored in Santari, her unwavering faith in Dagan, and her unwillingness to give up on him.

Here's her expressing her conviction in a force echo scene, that took place after her confrontation with Dagan, and right after he was put in the bacta tank:

"The council may have given up on you, but I know who you truly are, Dagan. Even if you yourself have forgotten..."

Of course she knows! It has been hinted at in the game multiple times that these two have known each other for a long time, are very, very close, and share a deep bond based on mutual trust, amongst other things. So, this conviction of hers is very much built on the fact that she knows him better, deeper, and more intimately than anyone else - that she knows things about him that no one else knows, has seen a side of him that no one else has ever seen. That she is the only one able to see him truly as the way he is, and is, therefore, the only one able to make a sound judgement of him and what he is capable of - or isn't.

This woman is anything but a sentimental fool, not only is she a fucking genius, she also possesses great wisdom, discernment, patience, and self-control, so, of course, there is substance to her claims, regardless of the fact that she is in love with him.

~*~

That said, I’ll now continue to describe the scenario for my AU:

Cal had been watching everything unfold with conflicting emotions, and he could not deny that the tragic turn of events on his opponent’s side affected him.

Ever since he saw them together in the force echoes, Cal has always had his suspicions about the true nature of the feelings the two Jedi harboured for each other, and now he saw the undeniable truth right in front of his eyes.

As much as he resented Dagan’s previous actions - seeing this proud man so broken and forlorn, clasping the lifeless form of his lost love to his bosom, he could not help but empathize with him, being all too familiar with love and loss himself.

It did impress him no less to see Dagan, moments later, relinquish the key to Tanalorr - to his discovery, his home, his ambitions, and his great obsession - without a moment’s hesitation, as not to lose time for saving his beloved.

At the same time, Bode’s behaviour in this situation filled him with indignation. How was this any better than Dagan’s previous conduct towards them!? It was not. If anything, it was just as unscrupulous, and that was not how he wanted to be, or to act.

Maybe it was his sense of justice, maybe it was a surge of sympathy, maybe both, that made him turn and go after Dagan, who had just disappeared through the door.

Even so, his sudden reappearance, was met by a furious glare by Dagan who was in no mood to tolerate any further delays, not believing Cal’s claim of only wanting to help. So Cal just prompted BD-1 to act, who immediately understood and administered the last health stim in his possession to Santari, who indeed seemed to show a response.

Dagan, who was too caught up in his concern for Santari just shot him a glance, before rushing off again. However short it had been, the surprise and relief in his eyes had still been visible - as well as a hint of gratitude, or so Cal believed.

From behind, Bode urged him to leave, but he refused, saying he would follow later. He needed time to reflect.

As he made his way back down, hours later, walking through the corridors, he passed by the medical ward. He stopped and stood there, wondering what had become of Santari - if his help had made any difference, however small, even if it meant that she just barely made it, and if, at this point, she was still alive after all.

With a mixture of curiosity and concern, he entered the hallway that led to the examination room. The door was still left open and he slowly made his way to the front, so he could catch sight of what was going on inside.

On the surgery couch, connected to a device that was monitoring her vital parameters, there was a still unconscious, but alive Santari.

Inclined towards her, Dagan was sitting by her side, lost in thought, holding her hand in his remaining one, his eyes fixated on the delicate features of the woman in front of him. His expression was full of sorrow and longing, yet above it all there was a deep affection gracing his handsome face, displaying a tenderness, Cal wouldn’t have associated with him before.

How long had he been watching over her like this, Cal wondered. Night had almost passed, and the horizon was already lighting up in a faint violet.

Daring not to interrupt the scene, he slowly turned, moving as silently as he could, when a deep voice, lowly but firmly, commanded him to wait. He did not know how and when, but somewhere along the line Dagan must have taken notice of his presence.

He again turned to face the Jedi master, who sat still, immovable, in his spot. Even now, as Dagan spoke on, his gaze remained, dwelling upon his beloved.

“When she was examined, I was informed, that it was your medicine that had made a difference, after all. Without it, I would have lost her.”, he concluded, his voice raw with unexpressed emotion. A moment of silence followed, an indrawn breath.

“Thank you!”

Although greatly humbled by the previous events, it must not have easily passed his lips … and yet, he seemed to feel the need to express this to him. A declaration so simple, as it was powerful, genuine, heartfelt.

Cal could appreciate that, inquiring if there was a chance she might make it now that her condition had stabilized at last.

Dagan nodded, ascertaining that until then, he would remain by her side and keep vigil over her quiescent state, waiting for a sign, however long it would take.

In case she woke again, he expressed his hopes that, should they meet again, may this be on better terms than their past encounters.

In case she did not … he paused with a pained expression, briefly closing his eyes, before continuing … then this should now be his bidding him a final farewell.

Cal, understanding the unspoken message, dared not pursue the question any further, and instead agreed expressly to Dagan’s sentiment regarding better future relations, before taking his leave.

Still deep in thought, he returned to his friends, who were already waiting for him at the Mantis, ready to take off for Jedha.

For Dagan, a long vigil remained, that would last another night and day, hours of uncertainty and doubt wearing on in a gruellingly slow pace.

In the silence that surrounded him, the voices in his mind kept on howling all the louder, seized with remorse, confronting him with every decision he made, every action he took - that ultimately led to this result, that he now realized were wrong - in an unceasing and damning judgement.

“If she dies, it is your fault!”, they would scream, and he knew there was nothing he could say to deny their allegations, that lessened his guilt in this matter even for one bit. That was the hardest thought to bear – that it was him, his pride, his obstinacy, and impatience, who had brought about this misery, him, of all people, who hurt her – the one he loved the most.

At this point, the voices that wondered about the “what if”s and “what could have been”s chimed in, telling him the tantalizing tale of chances lost, and all the roads not taken. If only he had listened to her …

At last, a breathed sigh that signalled her waking pulled him out of his thoughts, after a time that felt like an eternity, spent in his personal purgatory.

Her eyelids slowly fluttered open to reveal the soft brown gaze that he so often had lost himself in, that he was again losing himself in in this very moment. With quivering lips, he uttered her name, his voice shaky and raw.

Her mouth silently forming the syllables of his name in response, and the accompanying expression, the longing he felt mirrored in her eyes, were enough to push him over the edge.

A sudden, hot wave of emotion overtook him and before he knew, their lips were locking, and he was kissing her with a desperate, fervent hunger he had not known before – not like this.

When he finally let go, his eyes were moist, and two rivulets of tears, shed out of relief and regret in equal measure, were trickling down his face. His heart was screaming and pleading her to forgive him, but the words just barely escaped his mouth. Dainty fingers reached up and softly brushed his cheek, concern and understanding in her eyes.

Just as he set on to speak again, she just lightly shook her head and pulled him in once more.

Slender arms wound tightly around his broad shoulders, and her hands delved deep into the silver masses of his hair, silken strands between her fingers.

His own remaining arm gently slid behind her back, supported by his force-conjured limb, to pull her up and close, always careful not to put too much pressure on her still fragile and healing form. Still, his hand was clutching the fabric of her tunic so hard it was almost shaking, clinging to her with the urgency of a drowning man.

As short and intense their previous kiss was, it was merely a prelude to the additional sweetness and depth of the one they shared now. She yielded under his touch like delicate flower petals under the rain, sinking back into the crook of his arm, as his lips were bearing down on hers with the full weight and ardour of the love he could not contain anymore.

After what seemed like ages, and yet too soon, their lips slowly parted, softly grazing, catching and releasing each other in feverish zeal in between, reluctant to let go.

They would remain, tightly entangled in their embrace, for a long while, trying to steady themselves, their breath still shaky from their madly racing heart. Trying to make up for the loss of his hand, that would have come up to rest at her face at this point, he inclined, giving her nose a gentle nudge with his own.

Santari, who knew the mannerisms of her beloved like no other, picked up his unspoken intention. Memories came welling up, unbidden, in a wave of guilt and regret that had never left her since their altercation on the Shattered Moon, overtaking her mind and finding their final release in a strangled sob, with her own heart begging for a forgiveness it would never grant itself, but knew it was already given by the one her plea was directed towards.

Like an answer, his cheek came to rest against hers, and their tears mingled, building bit by bit into a torrent, running in silence, until one of them finally rose to speak.

And there was so much to speak about, so much that they had to tell each other, that finally had to be said.

As they talked, they made their way up again, towards the top level of the observatory, with Santari leaning on Dagan for support, who had wrapped his arm around her in a protective manner, steadying her, attending her along the way, walking slowly, carefully.

When they arrived, the sun was nearing the horizon, painting the sky in a gradient of fire, that, itself, was fading into the darkening blue of the falling night, wherein the most luminous stars were already glimmering, scattered across the celestial landscape.

They sat down in the spot they so often had frequented once, two centuries in the past, gazing at the starlit sky, dreaming together. His arm remained, tightly wound around her and she sank into his embrace again, as he patiently, intently listened to her, before it was his turn again to speak, in an exchange that would yet become hours of unburdening their hearts.

It was already deep into the night when Dagan’s exhaustion eventually made itself known, getting the better of him after his prolonged, untiring vigil without rest. So, they laid down, snuggled up to each other on their makeshift bed under the stars, heads rested on his cloak, turned into a pillow for them both, and under Santari’s loving and watchful gaze, he finally allowed himself to drift off to sleep – this time, with her keeping guard over him instead.

He woke to her humming, the caressing, feathery touch of her fingers running through his hair, and a smile as warm as the rays of the midday sun that now stood at its zenith in the sky. She was still in the same position she occupied last night, concerned not to rouse him all too early, but also not entirely willing to remove herself from his embrace either, savouring the languid hours of a morning slept-in in the arms of her love, something they were but seldomly granted to do in the past, watching the expression of serenity and peace gracing his exquisitely fair face.

She already felt better, invigorated even, and so did Dagan, who had regained his usual strength after his long overdue night’s rest.

Both agreed that it was now time for them to leave and they set out for the landing platform on which Santari’s ship was stationed.

The ship was an old relic from a bygone era, that Dagan immediately recognized as his own, that, despite its age and traces of usage, had served him well during his countless expeditions, bearing him to many faraway places, just as it now had borne her here.

So, instead of choosing a new one, she took his old ship and made it her own, just as he had planned to do with her droid. He could not help but chuckle at the thought.

Granted, it was an elegant vessel, with its streamlined form, and tasteful, spacious interior, that in its day had its use as the private transport of some aristocrat – at least that is what the previous owner had told him. What most stood out about it, though, was its great maneuverability and speed, that even time and use did not diminish – qualities that, aside from his own outstanding capabilities as a pilot, carried him through the Abyss and back again.

Whereto would it carry them now?

That was the one question that still remained. Where did they go now, without a home to return to!?

But the answer was - it did not matter – truly, it never did. All he knew and all that did matter now, was that he could go anywhere, anyplace, as long as she was with him. His true and only home was her - the home he could not live without, the home that he never wanted to be parted from again.

As he expressed these sentiments to her, he gave in to the thought that had been occupying his mind during the lonesome hours of his vigil, a rekindled dream of yore.

He took a step back, all the while keeping his eyes locked on hers and his gaze, strangely intense, took on an almost imploring quality. Like this, he remained for a moment, his breath shaky, then he sank to his knee, finally daring to ask the once forbidden question that had long since been burning in his heart.

With a gasp of disbelief and recognition, her eyes widened …

It had been a secret dream of theirs, something they once had wondered about - she remembered it like yesterday - born in a blissful moment, as they lay in each other’s arms, snuggled together after lovemaking and immersed in the other’s eyes, exchanging drowsy kisses every now and again, they were envisioning what life would have been like for them together if they were no Jedi, dreaming up a possible scenario … just a woman and a man, bound by no other vows but the one that tied them together as one.

And they would go on - imagining the home they would have built and shared together, a small sanctuary just for the two of them - until they drifted off to sleep, only to wake up again in the life they had - the life of a scientist and a knight of the order, and a love lived in secrecy. Because that was all it was – just a fond wish, a lovely fantasy far beyond their grasp. Tanalorr was the closest they got, and yet it had been taken from them.

But now … times had changed - the order was gone, the Jedi but few, their doctrine a mere relic of the past, and they were free – free to do whatever they pleased – a second chance to try and seize, but even now she would not have dared to believe, to hope, he would be so bold and act – to actually ask her – and yet here they were.

Too overwhelmed to speak, she just stood there for a moment, her hand cupped over her quivering lips, gulping back a sob, before she fell down into his arms, finally blurting out the answer he so longed to hear. With a deep sigh of relief, betraying how tense and nervous he must have felt, he pulled her close and kissed her in his characteristic, passionate manner that always made her knees go weak.

~*~

Frankly, I don't think the assumption that they might have these desires is all that unreasonable, considering they had this dream of a shared home, that was at the core of their overarching plans of building a temple, and achieving great things for the order.

This is especially strong with Dagan … first of all – because it is mentioned by him in the game (along with other things being heavily implied).

When he bleeds his kyber crystal, his voice takes on an increasingly agitated tone, finally peaking when he refers to Tanalorr as “my home” - not his project, his contribution to the order, but his home - and then, when he mentions Santari’s betrayal, everything explodes.

Of course, you also, if not especially, need to consider his formative years as a slave on Arkania (at least how I imagine them to be like), and the influence these had on his needs and desires.

So, why should marrying the woman he loves not be one of these desires!? Maybe not of Dagan the knight, with his lofty and noble ambitions, but of Dagan the man, carrying this wish in his most secret heart.

It definitely sounds like something he would want, and actually act upon once he sees a chance – after all, he’s a very emotionally passionate person, prone to follow his heart’s desire, as well as his instincts more than anything else (just like Anakin), and someone who doesn’t give a f*** about conventions (also very much like Anakin, who also happens to be not the only Jedi ever to have tied the knot, btw – it is said there have always been some to have done this despite the “rules”).

Imho, he’d totally dig this idea of the completely committed nature of marriage, this absolute and unbreakable bond, as well as showing Santari his undying love and devotion this way. And the fact, that it’s very much an official thing – even better! The whole galaxy has to know, too!

As for Santari … I think her sentiments are absolutely the same, but she’s, of course, more the sober-minded and patient one, but not any less strong-willed, nor any less stubborn and defiant than him, if she truly wants something, mind you - it’s just that her nature allows her to act in a far more subtle manner.

One thing is certain - their actions have more than proven that their priorities and loyalties lie, first and foremost, with each other, and no one else!

Ultimately, I feel, getting married is such a great choice for them, because of their bond that runs so deep - a love that is not only profound and strong, but also enduring - and the magnitude of their attachment that is already present.

Sealing this bond in marriage - while being of singular personal importance to them, of course - would only be a symbolic act, in the end, to make said bond visible to the outside world. So, regarding their status as force user and Jedi, it would hardly have any relevance, as the attachment is already there anyway, as I said.

[ Btw, I can’t stand the attitude that emotional commitment and attachment has to be this exclusively negative thing, with predominantly negative consequences. It is said to only lead to the dark side, but, Imho, there is so much potential for the positive in these bonds – if only they can be channeled in a favourable direction.

Only a bond as deep and as powerful as this would be able to produce the emotional impulse of a magnitude strong enough to tear someone away from the grasp of the dark side for good, as was seen with Anakin. I’m actually more than a little surprised that this fact gets overlooked so constantly. Shame!

Besides - as if Jedi hooking up, sleeping around and just leaving with unfazed detachment because “muh rules”, even becoming deadbeat dads in the process, is any better … WTF! And no, producing force sensitive children and potential initiates for the order is no excuse. Ugh, I hate this argument! Whoever must have come up with that must have been a massive fuckboy…

Dagan definitely isn’t such a guy – quite the opposite, in fact!

Good that Luke got rid of that stupid mindset and rule! After all, his father fell, to a significant degree, just because of it. And I wonder how many Jedi did as well, who remain unmentioned – let alone the hearts that got broken because of it. ]

Maybe Tanalorr was the attempt to reconcile these two sides (the two Jedi versus the man and the woman), and make this dream, which he shared with Santari, a reality.

And, of course, "what happens in the Temple on Tanalorr stays in the Temple on Tanalorr", as I read somewhere. ;)

~*~

Some hours later, they were off, heading to Coruscant, leaving Koboh behind for a while, to accomplish what they had planned to do.

At Santari’s urging, they made a stopover at the nearest medical center, for Dagan to finally get a cybernetic replacement for his lost arm. Still full of remorse over what happened on the Shattered Moon base, she felt unable to find any peace of mind until at least the visible signs of the damage, that her saber had wrought, were undone. Dagan, who still felt the pain of his own regret as acutely, perceived her sorrow despite her composed demeanor, drew her in his still one-armed embrace, and tried to cheer her up, voicing his support of the idea, as it would enable him to hold her again like he used to. The prospect, as well as the disarming nonchalance in which it was stated, the playful smirk and the twinkle in his eye, still managed to conjure a smile on her face.

When they returned to Koboh two weeks later, now a married couple, they first made a visit to Pyloon’s Saloon, to look for Zee, as Santari had learned of her whereabouts after her initial arrival on the planet, and was looking forward to meet her old assistant, hoping for her to join them again – especially after the restoration of her memory.

Just as they wanted to enter the saloon, the Mantis emerged in the skies and landed on its usual place on the platform – Cal, Merrin, Greez, and Kata disembarked and came their way.

Cal, who was still reeling from Bode’s betrayal and loss, a downcast and sombre expression darkening his face, lightened up a little at their sight, seeming almost glad to see them.

Once inside, they were about to exchange greetings, still a little tense despite their recently changed, now more amicable relations, when Zee, who had recognized their voices from above, rushed down to greet them, only to be brought up short at the sight of Dagan, of whom she took note with no little bewilderment and shock, the memory of their last encounter still present in her mind.

But when the delicate figure, that clung to his side, his arm gently placed around her, turned her head in Zee’s direction and was immediately recognized as her old master, she came heading towards her in exuberant spirits, an overjoyed exclamation of “Master Khri!” ringing out of her vocalizer, and immediately assailed her with a plethora of questions, inquiring to know about the reason of her sudden appearance, which also aroused the attention of the others in their circle.

Santari explained everything Zee, as well as the others, wanted to know, in her usual calm and patient manner. It was the instant, when she was speaking about Dagan, referring to him as her husband, that took everyone by surprise, and for a moment there was silence.

While it was, by now, known to everyone but Zee, that the bond between Santari and Dagan was one of love (thanks to Cal’s account), none of them had expected the two Jedi to take it a step further and actually wed, in complete defiance of the rules the Order had instilled into them from early on.

Rules that were quickly brought up by the nonplussed droid, who just couldn’t believe her master would ever go against this doctrine - and now seemed so unconcerned about it, happy even, exchanging enamoured glances with her now-husband, who put his affections on display with a boldness that would have made Zee blush, had she been able to.

Curious enough, no one else seemed to have any objections, and, she didn’t know if she read it right, but there seemed to be a subtle note of approval, respect even, colouring the voice of young Cal Kestis, as he joined Merrin in expressing his congratulations to his fellow Jedi.

Following this, the conversation quickly evolved into a discussion about the recent events.

Eventually, they came to the conclusion that it was best to unite regarding the settlement on Tanalorr, as well as the redevelopment of the Jedi temple, and the new directions the teachings should be taken to.

The only matter left to sort out now were the Bedlam Raiders, and what was to happen with them, now that Dagan, their leader, and the only person with enough influence to rein them in, was to depart to Tanalorr.

That is what they were now planning to take care of, before starting their journey together with the others.

Before they set out for the Raiders’ Lucrehulk headquarters, Santari pulled a small device out of her pocket, a data carrier of sorts, and quickly restored Zee’s memory.

Out of consideration, the latter was allowed to wait in the Saloon for their return, instead of joining them on their mission to the place that still held nothing but bad memories for her. Greez, however, was grateful to have someone to help him with the preparations for the upcoming relocation.

~*~

So much for the key part of my AU.

Of course, there is more, but the most important aspect, the big turning point, has been dealt with here.

#please be nice #btw - by keeping certain things to oneself I also mean those intent to argue about the things I write about here #in regards to the validity of my content #again it is my canon and I created it the way I did for a reason - because that is exactly how I want it to be #debates are for real life topics but not for fictional headcanons - these are not up to discussion #again I am looking for like-minded people - not verbal sparring partners - that is literally the ONLY reason I even posted it on here #so can you please respect that and not shit on the little joys one still has left ... it's really not too much to ask for #headcanon #alternate universe #otp #dagan/santari #santari/dagan #daganxsantari #santarixdagan #dagtari #dagan gera #santari khri #star wars #jedi survivor

[frau-kali]

On Self Awareness and Cognitive Dissonance

So @jaynovz made this really interesting and excellent post about Silver's crazy decision to go to Charlestown at the end of S2. I thought I'd toss out my two cents as to why he might have done it. And also discuss some related stuff. Buckle up, folks!

So first, let's begin with THE SCENE:

Silver: I've had my fill of adapting lately, doing your bidding, keeping the crew in line for you. Flint: I wasn't the only one who benefited from that. Silver: It certainly seemed that way.

Here Flint refers to Silver's position among the crew, which Flint sees as a benefit to both of them. As we see:

Flint: I need your help. They need your help. Silver: Oh please. Don't try to convince me to do it for the sake of their futures. Flint: For the sake of your own. Those men listen to you, they care about what you think, what you want them to think. Where else in the world is that true? Where else would you wake up in the morning and matter?

I could talk endlessly about this whole scene, particularly about Silver's incredibly amazing lie and how he acts during it and his bitterness toward Flint, but that's beyond the scope of this. Instead I wanna focus on self awareness.

With these few words, Flint basically drags Silver kicking and screaming to self awareness land. He is suddenly exposed to the fact that he actually means something here. And by his reaction, I think it's fair to assume this is one the few times, if not perhaps the first time, he's been in a position like this. Based on his past actions and his desire to remain anonymous (see refusing to show his face during the schedule thing, it’s safer to be anonymous), I think his previous modus operandi has been to position himself behind some powerful figure and work in the background to help them achieve their shared goals of getting lots of money. Said people were also probably not as smart as him so he could easily manipulate them as well. We see him do this with Flint a bunch, too, working in the background to help him. And that's what his position on the Walrus crew starts out as.

But then he becomes the centre of attention. They start to like him, which he didn't even necessarily expect when he started his gossip monger plan, he just wanted them to need him, despite his proclaiming that he’s a hard man not to like. But no, they get attached to him. And he, unbeknownst to himself, becomes attached right back.

Now, it's entirely possible that he's been in similar situations in the past just like this one, but because he is very good at repression and lying to himself, he was able to walk away without any real trouble. Maybe he realized afterwards that he actually liked those people but it didn't matter because he'd already left and he tells himself it’s for the best anyway. Silver is likely carrying around some heavy trauma related to emotional attachments to other people, given how he tells Muldoon that “we’ll take care of you” is the most terrifying part of everything that’s happened after losing his leg. And, considering everything else, that sure is saying something.

But here, he has hitched his wagon to James Flint, a man after his own heart. Flint is a lot like Silver, a brilliant liar and excellent manipulator, able to bend people to his will and look damn good while doing it.

Then he does it to Silver, too. And it's all while Silver is in the middle of pulling off his own master class in lying, some of his best work, by being outraged and angry that the gold he actually stole is gone and trying to extricate himself from Flint and the crew. Except Flint won't let him.

Flint's request for Silver's help doesn't, I don't think, extend merely to the lovely speech Silver gives to swing the vote in his favour, either. During the voyage to Charlestown, Silver continues working to convince the men of the dangers that lie ahead, presumably at Flint's behest. Scott does indicate to Billy that Silver is using his storytelling powers to “help the captain” when Silver is addressing the crew.

So Silver stays because he has come to value his position on the crew. However he doesn't yet realize how attached to them he's actually become. Jay is right, he could’ve easily deserted after the vote, run off to hide somewhere until Flint is gone, but he doesn’t. And he's still lying to himself about why. He thinks “yeah ok, Flint, you won this round. I'll stay and go on the voyage so as not to arouse suspicion from you and everyone else, and I’ll take the scouts along because I don’t trust them not to fuck this up, but I am leaving after that.” The real reason he stays is because he values his position, he actually likes that he matters, but he is still convinced he’s going to leave because he also wants the money. I think he probably would’ve left, too, but he’s trying not to think too hard about the newly exposed self awareness and continuously telling himself he doesn’t need this and he sure as fuck doesn’t actually care about these people, even as he stays. It’s like he’s torn between how he wants to be and how he actually is and he cannot bring himself to go no matter how much he wants to.

That’s also not even going into how, during the voyage, he is exposed to how much power he actually has over the men on the crew when he gives the scout a fucking look and said scout kills their co-conspirator because of it. And then that same scout tells Silver that all the men know he cares about their best interests and Silver is just fucking taken aback by the level of regard these people have for him. This is on display again when they all stand up in his defence after Vane’s men come to grab him.

When Vane’s men attack the ship, Silver could swim to shore with the remaining scout and if they kept their heads down, they'd probably be ok. They could likely swim far enough away to not get caught, especially at night. Silver surely knows this, too.

Instead, he cuts the forestay and saves the crew. And then he refuses to give up a list of names, once again saving the crew. He has, against all his own cognitive dissonance, become attached to them enough that he endures torture and risks death for them. Now, I don’t think that he ever thought that he would lose his leg, I don’t think that he made space in his mind for the possibility of being tortured either, he knew that one of the men had grabbed the keys during the scuffle when they took him away and he thought that he could stall long enough until they broke in and saved him because he’s good at talking his way out of trouble. I also have to say that it is such a nice moment when he says this to Vane’s man: “The question you should be asking yourself is, where are his keys and has he seen them since he took me away from my men?” They are his men now, his brothers, whereas before he always set himself apart from them.

And it's all because Flint made him see that he valued his position enough to stay and go on the journey to Charlestown in the first place. Silver even gives Flint credit for this in 305 - “Such a waste, it seems to me, knowing that it doesn't have to be this way. That the man who talked me into giving a shit about this crew, he could talk those people out there into anything. If he wanted to.”

Or that’s how I read it anyway. The way Silver’s attachment to the Walrus crew is developed over the course of season 2 and the final culmination of him refusing to betray them is one of my favourite things about his story and I have a lot of feelings about it. I could be wrong in my interpretation, of course, but thank you all for coming to my Ted Talk :)

#black sails #john silver #silverflint #black sails meta #i've never written meta before #i just have a lot of feelings about this #and about silver in general #so i wanted to share #i could just be coping with this headcanon to paper over something that doesn't make sense (silver refusing to leave) #but it makes sense to me #who knows tho #shrug emoji

[andy-wm]

The 3D Teaser: the first four seconds.

Some people never read the prologue of a novel. And that's okay.

It's not vital. It often plays no part in the events that will unfold in the book, and you can skip it knowing you will still enjoy the story. But what it does ... is it gives context to the narrative you are about to read. It could (and usually does) change your prespective on the events in the book. It gives you insight.

And that's what the first four secods of this teaser is.

It's the prologue.

This is where it starts...

Jungkook, in white, ascends the stairs.

The fact that the MV opens with this scene means it's important. Not just for the structure of the story, but for impact. For our experience.

Why the stairs?

Firstly, we've seen the use of stairs in BTS narratives so many times... in the intro VCRs for concerts, for photoshoots, for choreo. It’s a recognised part of BTS's visual storytelling.

So this is very significant, taking that same visual cue and using it for one individual, in a way that clearly echoes of so many BTS photoshoots and videos. It ties JK to BTS through this familiar - almost ceremonial - ascension of the stairs - even down to the measured pace of his steps.

The aesthetic is also very familiar. Styling artists in a single colour right down to their shoes is a hallmark of K-Pop - and BTS,

The blue and white palette in the opening scene is very clearly reminiscent of Yet To Come. Even the style of outfit is the same - loose fitting off-white jacket and trousers... and that's no accident. This insert feels like a reminder that he remains part of the group, and that he (and his solo work) is intrinsically linked to BTS.

It ALSO says 'this where I left off... This is my best is yet to come'. It's a link from the past to the present.

This is his story.

Beyond the BTS link, stairs physically transport you... whether ascending or descending, moving towards a destination or moving away, stairs move you in three dimensions.

Clever, right?

Here's the most import part of this four second prologue:

BTS usually descends the stairs coming towards us physically and metaphorically. In this case JK is climbing OUT of the picture. He's moving away, BEYOND the BTS framework and into a different space.

Its not insignificant that we cannot see what's at the top of those stairs. Where do they lead? How far do they go up?

Unknown.

We don't know if he can see what new plane or platform he's going to be on either.

But he's walking confidently and at a measured pace. He's not running recklessly and he's also not tentative. He is (as expected) sure of himself and his direction.

And it may look like he's walking away from us but he can go steadily forward because he knows,

He’s got ARMY right behind him when he says so.

Are you crying yet?

I am.

But it's ok, because there's one more important thing to remember.

Those stairs? They're not going to disappear.

I am absolutely confident that he will be coming back the exact same way he left. Probably with that trademark Jungkook swagger (maybe with a giggle, maybe with a tear or two, maybe with the blisteringly hot reentry of a space shuttle. Who knows.)

What we DO know is that he will be coming back down those stairs before 2025.

All WE can do, is be behind him when he asks us to.

💜

Oh, one last thing... If he smashes that hydrant and the MV turns into a wet tshirt competition again, please send flowers to my husband because I will expire.

(and MY god I NEED those shoes!!!!!)

#jeon jungguk #jungkook #전정국 #jungkook 3d #jungkook ft. jack harlow #3d single #3d Jungkook

[ninadove]

Nina reads Dracula 🦇

May 5th

My good friend Jonathan has made it to Dracula castle at last! Although his travels were a little more stressful than he would have liked. I’m not worried though!!! He’s always sooo dramatic!!!

So what do we start with?

There are many odd things to put down, and, lest who reads them may fancy that I dined too well before I left Bistritz, let me put down my dinner exactly.

Of course. 🤦‍♀️ I sure hope this love for food won’t be used to quiet his survival instincts later in the evening…!

I could hear a lot of words often repeated, queer words, for there were many nationalities in the crowd; so I quietly got my polyglot dictionary from my bag and looked them out. I must say they were not cheering to me, for amongst them were "Ordog"—Satan, "pokol"—hell, "stregoica"—witch, "vrolok" and "vlkoslak"—both of which mean the same thing, one being Slovak and the other Servian for something that is either were-wolf or vampire. (Mem., I must ask the Count about these superstitions) (😢)

As he spoke he smiled, and the lamplight fell on a hard-looking mouth, with very red lips and sharp-looking teeth, as white as ivory. One of my companions whispered to another the line from Burger's "Lenore": — "Denn die Todten reiten schnell"— ("For the dead travel fast.") (😡)

THIS IS NOT NICE!!!!! We don’t judge people based on appearances!!! So what if he has fangs and claws and turns into a bat when he thinks no one’s looking? Down with these unrealistic beauty standards!!!

As we wound on our endless way, and the sun sank lower and lower behind us, the shadows of the evening began to creep round us. […]

Sometimes, as the road was cut through the pine woods that seemed in the darkness to be closing down upon us, great masses of greyness, which here and there bestrewed the trees, produced a peculiarly weird and solemn effect, which carried on the thoughts and grim fancies engendered earlier in the evening, when the falling sunset threw into strange relief the ghost-like clouds which amongst the Carpathians seem to wind ceaselessly through the valleys. […]

The only light was the flickering rays of our own lamps, in which the steam from our hard-driven horses rose in a white cloud. […]

It grew colder and colder still, and fine, powdery snow began to fall (!), so that soon we and all around us were covered with a white blanket. (!!!)

Environmental storytelling… snow like a shroud over my good friend Jonathan… I’m not worried at all! ❄️

[…] but just then the moon, sailing through the black clouds, appeared behind the jagged crest of a beetling, pine-clad rock, and by its light I saw around us a ring of wolves, with white teeth and lolling red tongues, with long, sinewy limbs and shaggy hair.

🎶 TAAAAALE AS OOOLD AS TIIIIIIIIIIME 🎶

Was this a customary incident in the life of a solicitor's clerk sent out to explain the purchase of a London estate to a foreigner? (Completely customary. Please carry on.)

Solicitor's clerk! Mina would not like that. (🥺) Solicitor—for just before leaving London I got word that my examination was successful; and I am now a full-blown solicitor! I began to rub my eyes and pinch myself to see if I were awake.

Oh so we do find out what he came here for!!! I love that Mina supports his career and that the thought of her brings him comfort… even though there’s nothing to fear:

"Welcome to my house! Enter freely and of your own will!"

"Welcome to my house. Come freely. Go safely; and leave something of the happiness you bring!"

For this is perfectly normal alive human behaviour!!! 🦇

The Count himself came forward and took off the cover of a dish, and I fell to at once on an excellent roast chicken. This, with some cheese and a salad and a bottle of old Tokay, of which I had two glasses, was my supper.

You may fascinate a human by giving him a piece of cheese 🧀

His face was a strong—a very strong—aquiline, with high bridge of the thin nose and peculiarly arched nostrils; with lofty domed forehead, and hair growing scantily round the temples but profusely elsewhere. His eyebrows were very massive, almost meeting over the nose, and with bushy hair that seemed to curl in its own profusion. The mouth, so far as I could see it under the heavy moustache, was fixed and rather cruel-looking, with peculiarly sharp white teeth; these protruded over the lips, whose remarkable ruddiness showed astonishing vitality in a man of his years. For the rest, his ears were pale, and at the tops extremely pointed; the chin was broad and strong, and the cheeks firm though thin. The general effect was one of extraordinary pallor.

Hitherto I had noticed the backs of his hands as they lay on his knees in the firelight, and they had seemed rather white and fine; but seeing them now close to me, I could not but notice that they were rather coarse—broad, with squat fingers. Strange to say, there were hairs in the centre of the palm. The nails were long and fine, and cut to a sharp point. As the Count leaned over me and his hands touched me, I could not repress a shudder. […]

I am all in a sea of wonders. I doubt; I fear; I think strange things, which I dare not confess to my own soul. God keep me, if only for the sake of those dear to me!

MY GOOD FRIEND JONATHAN YOU HAVE A FIANCÉE/GIRLFRIEND/MINA

You know what, I’m sure it’s just exhaustion talking. He’ll see more clearly after a good night’s sleep! 💤

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#dracula #dracula daily #nina reads dracula

[youandtom2]

Hi. How are you? Anyways, Im so addicted to your Dark Peter Parker stories. Thank you for sharing the stories. Please more dark peter or dom Tom. Either the two, id love to read! Keep up the good work! 😘😊

Non-Fiction (dom!Tom)

Summary: Tom's been wondering what it is about your new book that has you reading it ALL the time. Themes: just smut (18+) w/c: 2.1k a lil shorty

A/n: doing dom!tom because I have other plans for dark!peter!!!!! Also this was written very quickly so excuse any mistakes!!

MASTERLIST

Tom should've known that there was something about the giddiness over your new purchase that it was going to completely steal you away from him. It was a book of encyclopedic mass, weighty with pages and littered with tiny inscriptions on each page. You were a habitual reader, that much he knew and he enjoyed seeing you embrace your hobby, wrapped up on the sofa with a mug of tea sitting precariously across your middle while your hands hold your book. Tom himself didn't have much time to read, but he offers you the time to tell him about the stories you read, and your storytelling is probably the next best thing beside reading.

But there was something about your new book in particular that had your undivided attention, stealing every minute of your waking life and it was stealing every opportunity Tom had to spend time with you. It was rare to see your hands empty of it and Tom was determined to find out why.

"Hey bubs?" Tom called from the kitchen entrance. "What do you want for dinner? There's some left over stir fry in the fridge?" The echo of his voice travelled around the house but yet remained unanswered which was strange; he was sure you were in the house. "Bubs?" He tried again but no avail, no response. He didn't exactly want to go searching for you, but it seemed he had no other option.

He found you in the bedroom, sat upon the small fabric couch that sits in front of the bay window, overlooking your garden. Of course, you were reading your book and Tom couldn't see your face it was perched so closely to you. Only when Tom circled around the couch did he see the crimson glow to your cheeks and the bashful smile that pulled at your lips. It painted a rather guilty look on your face, like you had been caught doing something you shouldn't.

"Hello? Lights on, nobody home?"

Tom's voice broke you from your reverie and he didn't miss the way you held your book so defensively to your chest. He quirked an eyebrow. "I've been shouting on you, didn't you hear me?"

"Oh, sorry. I was...reading."

"So I see. That good?"

A coy laugh spilled and your blush returned, eyes pulling elsewhere with what Tom interpreted as...embarrassment?

"Y-yeah. It's pretty good."

"Care to share?"

"NO! No--I mean, you probably won't like it anyway, it's not for everyone."

Tom's eyes roamed over you, face and body, its language screaming that it had something to hide. Not only did you deny him of explaining your story, which you never do, but your eyes panicked at his request, slamming over the pages and hiding the book behind the cushion, not to mention the dead give-away of your terrible lying. It was all adding up to something very suspicious indeed.

Tom folded his arms, a sly smirk on his face. He had a plan. "Is that right? What happened to don't judge a book by its cover?"

"Uh...well, I just--I know the book and I know you and I don't think you would like it. I'm saving you time."

"Well can I spend that time with my girlfriend? She's been awfully caught up in this book of hers." Tom leaned down and aimed for your lips, capturing them in a soft kiss. You were so caught up in it that you didn't compute Tom's hand sliding under the cushion, grabbing the hard cover of the book and pulling it out from its hiding place. You were just a second too slow and you stood mortified as Tom held it firmly in his grasp.

"Tom, give it back." You warned.

"I just want to see what the fuss is about!"

"There is no fuss! Give it!"

You pounced but he narrowly side stepped out of your path, and the two of you continued on with what seemed like a disjointed waltz around the room for a couple of minutes, clambering over each other in a desperation to claim back what was yours.

When all hope was lost (mainly because Tom had grappled both your wrists in his fist) you gave in, surrendering to your embarrassment and your teeth sunk into your lip. Cautious eyes watched for every slight change in his facial expression as his eyes dragged across the sentences on the page. Your heart raced inside you because you knew what page he was reading, you knew what graphic filth was being depicted and you were utterly mortified that those pages saw the light of day by someone other than yourself.

Tom wasn't sure what to expect, so when he learned that the book was endless pages of extreme eroticism, he was quite surprised. But he gave away nothing of his shock, and his stone cold eyes continued to roam the pages while you worryingly wriggled beside him. On the inside though, he was a devil chuckling at your expense.

The silence gave him time to think and the more he read, the more he could begin to understand why it had you so hooked; it was hot, arousing and sensual, far beyond the reaches of anything you've tried before, but after seeing your blushes, your teeth sinking into your lip and hearing your cute, little squeals made Tom consider the possibility that everything inside this book was your fantasy.

Tom held your gaze and you held your breath. A beat, and then a smirk.

"Keira was aroused from her slumber to find that she was detained in what she figured was chains; twisting and burning at her skin as she fretted and fussed--"

"Tom--"

"A cold, concrete wall stood behind her, feeling the delicate touches of her soft skin as she squirmed on the spot. With her arms above her head, her legs spread, and a blackness over her eyes, she was unquestionably vulnerable. She didn't dare think about what lay ahead of her, especially now that her capture had entered the room, or what he liked to call, the dungeon."

"La, la, la, la, la, not listening!" Your attempts to break free were hampered by Tom pulling you even closer than before. Your cheeks were burning and you tried everything you could to block out the salacious words of your book, wishing you could shut your ears as tightly as your eyes had shut. Yet, Tom continued.

"The clinking of the chains on her wrists and ankles entered her ears, completely unaware that her capture was actually relieving her of their tight grip. Shortly after, her blindfold was lifted and within seconds, she found herself staring into the silver eyes of her capture. The sight haunted her, and before she was able to take her first bare-footed step towards her escape, Keira was once again snatched by the hand of her capture. Grunting, he tugged her closer--" With a short yelp, you found yourself pressed against Tom's chest, his eyes still glued to the book. "--lifted his lips to her ear and whispered..."

You held your breath and Tom's plush lips pressed against the shell of your ear, following every action just as the book described.

"Get. On. The. Bed."

Oh my God.

The shake in your breath as you released it had Tom smirking. In the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of you trying to compose yourself, trying with every bit of self-control to contain what girly squeal was bubbling in your throat. It was conjuring up so many emotions that you could barely say a word.

"Didn't you hear me?"

Bewildered, you stared blankly at him. That's not what happens next..."What?"

"I said get on the bed. I'm not going to ask again."

Tom slammed the book closed, a mighty thump in your ear before its discarded onto the couch, leaving nothing to stand in between you and a somewhat demanding Tom. Is this a joke or...?

You crossed your legs at the sight of Tom tilting his head just ever so slightly, his patience clearly being tested and it was the last hint you needed to know that he wasn't joking. Suddenly, the room felt like it was on fire, parts of you sweltering, suffering in its heat but you felt like you couldn't move. Fuck, you were so aroused it was ridiculous.

"Three..." Three? Three what? Three times he's asked? Three times I've ignored him, fuck, three what!? "Two..."

Shit. It's a countdown. Bed. Now!

Tom's heavy footsteps followed soon after, not sparing you a second to settle upon the sheets before your yanked back by him, a struggle that resulted with you on your back and Tom shadowing over you. Arms above your head, your legs kicked far apart, Keira sprung to mind, the very character you had been silently envying for the last few weeks and now that you faced a similar situation, your heart was tripping up over itself.

Above you, Tom smoldered wickedly with a mischievous glint to his eye.

"Tom, what is this?" You nervously giggled.

"I've been wondering what it is about that bloody book of yours that's been distracting you, stealing you from me. Now I know. Are you really that bored of me, love?"

"What?! No! No, of course not--"

"Let's make sure of that then, because I should be the one who makes you blush and squirm and fulfil all your fantasies. Me. Your boyfriend. Not some fictional book. Besides..." His lips planted a hungry kiss to the side of your neck, underneath your ear. "Why read it when you can experience it?"

Tom's hot mouth roamed your neck, sucking and biting every inch of flesh his lips could find, branding you as his very own. His grip around your hands became tighter as you moans grew louder, the provocative sounds triggering him to start desperately rutting into you. "Who knew my girl was so filthy?"

"Fuck, Tom."

"Say my name again."

"Tom!"

Tom released a resounding grunt, aiming all of his uncontrollable lust and desire into tearing a hole into your leggings - something he had never done before. No matter, you didn't stop him, too distracted by his sudden animosity - one similar to Keira's capture in your book - to say anything otherwise.

It wasn't a coincidence that everything Tom was doing was exactly how the book described it; how the capture took complete control and ownership over Keira, stripping her of what clothes covered her modesty, handling her with such unbridled strength that she couldn't fight against it, doing what he could to tease out the pleasure he knew was locked away inside her.

And there you were, at Tom's mercy as he buried his head between your thighs, crying out for release. You writhed upon the bed, shaking at the harsh lashings of Tom's tongue coursing through your folds, finding your sensitive bud with every intention to abuse it. He flicked, swiped and sucked where he could, doing everything within his power to make you fall apart beneath him. You both hummed simultaneously, you finding pleasure in the way he takes you within his mouth, and him finding complete ecstasy as you became wetter and wetter.

You were slipping over the edge, mere seconds from giving into the pressure building in your abdomen and nothing convinced you to relinquish that control more than the hungry, dark eyes of Tom staring up at you as he lapped up your cunt.

As quickly as it had arrived, it disappeared.

"Fuck!" The frustration in your voice filled the room. An angry stare was passed Tom's way who was rising to a stand.

"Do you not remember how the book goes, love? The capture doesn't allow Keira to cum, at least not until the morning."

"You're...you're not serious, are you?"

"Oh, I'm deadly serious." Tom flashed you a wink, the only affection he showed before his hands twisted you around to your front, your head buried into the sheets by the hand coiled around the nape of your neck. Your breath hitched in your throat the second you felt the tip of Tom's cock skating through your slick, a small warning of what lay ahead of you.

Just then, his whispered words found your ears.

"After this, you're not going to even remember that that book exists. You want fantasy? You come to me, got it?"

You opened your mouth to answer, but he deliberately pushed his cock into you and nothing but shaky breaths and muffled moans seeped out. The feeling was too insatiable for words.

A harsh hand whipped across your ass. "Hmm, that's what I thought."

#tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland fluff #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfic #tom holland imagine #smut #lemon #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #peter parker #request

[ahmedmootaz]

On the topic of Limbus Sinners, do you ever find it weird too that Gregor's claw hand in his Base EGO has Malkuth, Gebura, Chesed, Binah and Hokma's symbols on it? Was there ever a connection between him and the Librarians aside from having similar Jewish origins? Or was there ever an explanation why Yesod, Hod, Netzach, Tiphereth and Kether's symbols weren't?

I refuse to believe that PM just stuck on only those specific symbols for aesthetics on Gregor's arm considering how much attention is paid to the details in their world. There has to be a reason but I'm pulling out my hair asking what it all means. Please send help. Or if you can't, send headcanons instead please. I just need a bone to gnaw on in this mystery.

Dear Anonymous,

Well, that's just one of the many mysteries with PM's storytelling, eh? The way they leave us pulling out our teeth and hair, hehe...

Now, I can't claim to be a Limbus expert; I don't seek out every inkling of lore as I did with LC and LoR, although based on my experience with PM's previous works, if we are to apply Occam's razor, then the reason behind the emblems being there is...reused art assets. Yup, believe it or not, I think that this could be one of the main reasons they're there, but at the same time, you have a point, Anon; it would be quite odd if they left reused assets on such an important sprite...

In which case, perhaps it's a call-back? A reference of sorts? I cannot find a link between these particular Sephirahs; Binah and Hokma, I can link them to the Smoke War, which formed an important part of Gregor's life. But Gebura, Malkuth, and Chesed...? What would they have to do with anything? It's a bit convoluted, I must admit, so I cannot say that I have an answer, but either it is something that will be so brilliant when PM eventually reveals what it is, ooooooooooooor...it'll just be another plot hole that PM will leave for us to fill one day, hehehe.

Until next time, Anon, sorry for not being able to give a more detailed answer! Take care, be well, and see ya'!

#lobotomy corporation #library of ruina #limbus company #gregor #ask

[mybworlds]

Chapter 11: The party

Pairing: The Hound x Sansa Stark

Summary: Arya, Sandor and Sansa arrive in an unknown village where there's a party. Sansa meets a handsome young man triggering strange thoughts in Sandor who wonders about their relationship, Arya notices all this and can't stop herself from commenting on their strange relationship.

Chapter Warnings: language, attempted rape hint

Masterlist

Before to start... thank you to follow me, please remember English is not my first language.

Thanks @vase-of-lilies for the banner

The next day, they stopped at an inn, there was a party in that remote village, there were storytellers, jugglers, musicians, none of the three of them knew what the party was about: Sansa once knew everything about it, she did everything to know what the others were celebrating so that she too could take part in it, but that time Sansa knew nothing.

The village was not among the richest ones they had been to so far; however, the cheerfulness that exuded from the pale, emaciated faces of the people who animated the streets of that unknown village made Sansa smile. There, the girl could finally buy a dress; it was not like the fine clothes she left behind in King's Landing or Winterfell, but at least she was covered and could avoid Arya's comments, the stares that some of the men were giving her, and Sandor's gradually more intense stares. She loved parties, even if the ones she loved were parties of a very different kind! In spite of this, she was enchanted in observing strange colored fruits with aphrodisiacal powers, a salesman said, or in observing strange wooden objects at the end of which there were small dangling colored feathers, it was Arya and the Hound who pulled the girl away. "For tonight we stop here." the Hound declared. Sansa was pleased and smiled, at that moment her eyes fell on a boy with dark curly hair, an upturned nose, and full lips, he was not like her prince charming, but he really came close. He was handsome, she thought. The dark-haired boy looked up and noticed her watching him raptly, so he decided to dedicate a song to her, a song about a young maiden with hair kissed by fire. Sansa smiled: no one dedicated a song to her in a long time. The first and only time was when a storyteller dedicated a story to her about the beauty of a future princess of the North. "My sister is like this," Arya said somberly. They were at that inn for a few hours, Arya and the Hound were sitting at a dusty old table eating and drinking, he mostly drinking. Sansa, on the other hand, was laughing and dancing sinuously beside the commoners who laughed and shouted contentedly at the fleeting joy that the drums, harps and lutes conveyed to the dancers. "What do you mean?" he asked her, gobbling down another big gulp of red wine. "All she has to do is blink a little, smile and everyone falls at her regal feet," she spat venomously without losing sight of her older sister. "Are you jealous or am I wrong?" the Hound asked her, looking away for just one fleeting moment from the little girl with long red hair. "Me? About that lying princess? Not a bit." she spat in an aggressive tone. "Sure." he commented, however, not believing his tablemate's words. He watched as Sansa, elated, danced. It was regal even the way she danced, even how she smiled. Sandor watched her rapt, "I'd say that's how it went with you, too, right?" Arya resumed. "What?" he asked caught out. "You like my sister." that was not a question, Arya was sure "I've seen the way you look at her. You want her before you kill us, scarhead?" she provoked him violently. "Careful, you brat." he admonished her in hopes of making the young girl beside him stop. "Or what? Afraid of the truth?" the little girl resumed "You fool!" Arya railed and then got up and went outside, something told him to follow the younger Stark who just walked away, but something else told him to stay there. Sansa was fucking beautiful that night, in addition to being damn drunk, and everyone was eating her up with their eyes, including that boy she immediately eyeballed as soon as they got there. Sandor called himself a fool; it was obvious that she was looking at a good-looking young man who also spoke well to her, who especially spoke sweet words to her; on the other hand, she deserved that.

Sansa was having a good time, she was as happy as she had been in a long time, even accomplice to a few too many drinks. She allowed herself to be persuaded by Lian, the boy who immediately attracted her attention, to let loose and enjoy herself. He sung to her and danced with her, and she felt happy. She could not even remember how long it had been since she experienced such a feeling. It almost felt like feeling good again. However, from time to time she found herself looking at Sandor, "Hello Stranger." greeted her Lian "You look beautiful." he certainly was a straightforward guy, Sansa thought as she lowered her gaze slightly embarrassed. "Thank you." she said simply. "What is such a rare beauty doing in such a village? You ain't from around here." "No." she replied offhandedly only to remember in a glimmer of lucidity about what the Hound told her which means not to talk too much and especially not to reveal her identity for any reason in the world. "Where are you from?" he asked her, taking a glass with some amber liquid with a spicy smell. "You?" she replied. "Cape Kraken, I live in a small village." he replied, Sansa frowned. She cast another glance toward the Hound who was drinking more and more, she sighed and then looked back toward the good-looking boy: in doing so she noticed a coat of arms, a tree and three snakes entwined around it. Sansa whitened and looked toward the young man who noticing the change on her face asked her if she felt well, she asked, "Is that your banner?" Lian turned his head toward the direction indicated and he replied, "Yes." Sansa looked at him with disdain "What's going on?" he asked interdictedly. "Are you their leader?" he asked again. "Leader?! I lead them, but … I don't like to call myself leader." "Your soldiers attacked me and were about to rape me in the woods." she blurted out as she stood up, he stopped her by the wrist "Let me go you're hurting me!" she shouted, but without arousing anyone's attention since they were all too busy singing, dancing, drinking and eating. "Please, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for-- for what they did. They have all been punished." "Liar! My friend punished them!" Sansa never attacked someone before. That attitude would be typical of Arya: strong, resentful. Sansa was not like that, but she became: her experiences up to that point and the Hound's harsh words like slaps opened her eyes. Sansa learned what to do with those people she did not know: no fine words, no ceremony. She was a Stark of Winterfell and would be respected, by noble or commoner alike. But most of all, she wondered how long she considered the Hound her friend?

"The only two survivors have been punished, please, princess, believe me." "I'm not a princess," she objected harshly. "But you are as beautiful as one, your skin is so … perfect, your lips …"

Was that young man courting her? If Sansa had spoken like that a long time ago, she probably would have blushed and fallen at the man's feet, but today… oh, for a moment she deluded herself that she could be as happy again as she was when she was in Winterfell with her whole family, but that illusion had lasted but a blink of an eye: reality immediately reminded her of what she was actually experiencing. Her eyes caught a movement: the Hound gotten up and was heading upstairs, he was going to the room they paid for that night, she would have liked to reach him, stop him and drag him there with her, but Sansa did not. "Stop." she told him in a firm voice, "Your flattery don't interest me." "Because of my men?" "I'm not interested," she replied hastily and turned away from him. She was too tired to continue drinking or dancing or hearing singing, so she went up the stairs and opened the door to the room, the one she learned with embarrassment a few hours earlier that she had to share with her sister and the Hound; when she opened it, however, she saw not her sister, but only the Hound abandoned in a chair drinking. "I thought you were already asleep." Sansa looked at him and seemed to him as if he suddenly aged despite being not too much older than her; she approached him and resumed, saying, "Why don't you sleep?" "I couldn't." he replied simply and slurring the two words. "Why?" she asked her. His hair fell uncomfortably in front of his face and she, maybe it was the thrill, reached out to push those strands of hair away and caress his face, he reacted in a way that made Sansa wince: he grabbed her wrist and stood up abruptly. "You frighten me," she said, looking toward his face hidden by hair. "You shouldn't be…not of me…" he said letting go of her wrist and placing a hand in her hair "…Sansa." she looked him straight in the eye: it was the first time he called her by her name and not using one of the usual nicknames. She found herself swallowing hard, the air around them became charged with a strange and unfamiliar force and neither he nor she knew what to do, Sansa looked as if she wished she wanted to do something or expected something, but she did not know what to say or do, Sandor knew against what to do, but was afraid to do it with her. She was not just anyone, she was not just some whore found in the first brothel, she was Sansa Stark, and he suddenly felt uncomfortable. Shit, that little girl totally clouded his mind! "Sansa?" he called her in the semi-darkness and she pointed her blue eyes into his gray ones "I'm going to kiss you." he warned her, if she wanted she could have pulled away and run out, maybe she could have even yelled at him, but Sansa didn't move, she just stood there waiting and he asked her "Do you really want this? Do you really want this kiss?"

Was he, Sandor Clegane, really asking for someone's wish? The world and its order were being completely turned upside down.

And so, was this what it felt like to kiss someone, she thought as his imperfect lips rested on hers, is this really what it felt like? Surrendering and strong at the same time? Sansa thought for a moment about her mother, when she used to talk to her about how beautiful it was to love and be loved by one's lord, she hoped and dreamed with all her heart that the lord her mother spoke of would be a knight in a shining armor and on a white horse would lead her to his castle where they would live together as happy as her mother and father. Life, however, gave her a man in a dark armor always smeared with blood, with long dark hair and a weathered face, a man always ready to bite and attack, but a faithful, fearless and strong man. Sandor held her close by wrapping one arm around her and with the other slipped a hand through her hair. When Sansa opened her eyes, the light illuminated the room and she was alone there, lying on the bed wearing the Hound's cloak, her head ached and then she remembered that kiss… but had it really happened or was it the effect of alcohol that revealed to her what she really wanted? That is, to kiss and be kissed by him. By Sandor Clegane.

Before you leave... thank you for reading and if you want consider to like, reblog or leave a comment, or if you want you can leave me a pm. I leave with this question, Sansa and Sandor shared a kiss or it was a dream only?

#the princess in the north and the hound #game of thrones #fanfic #got #game of thrones fic #game of thrones fanfiction #got fanfiction #got fic #the houndxsansa #the hound #sandor clegane #sansa x sandor #richard armitage #sophie turner #sansan #sansa stark #asoiaf #the hound and the little bird #sansan ff #sansa x the hound #tpitnath #sansa x sandor ff #tpinath

[corfisers]

Same anon here and please, pop off about ryuuzaki, anytime. Especially paralleled to Doumeki. I was rereading vol 5 and 6 (let me tell you that I needed that bc I'm so dumb that this is the first time that I noticed that the yakuza who was caught having sex with Y and expelled HAS A SCAR IN THE SAME CHEEK AS D. I lost my mind,,,,) and in the official translation of my country there a difference that made me connect by contrast R and D.

In the eng trl that you can find online, when Y and R talk in the police car after R was rescued (and arrested), R first thinks "if you were a women, I would have protected you" and this is the same in my copy of the manga BUT a few pages later in my version R thinks "if I died, I wouldn't want him to know" and "if he protects me, I can't take care of him" VS "you'll find out over my dead body!" and "I can't believe he is the one protecting me!" in the eng vers.

The meaning may be somewhat the same but DAMN, the feeling behind it is radically heavier in my version.

I like better my country's version just because at the beginning of vol 6 when doumeki realises that he has been left behind and finds the two cleaners, the same words came up. D says "take me to the boss because I am the only one who can protect me, you wouldn't be able to" and the cleaner scoffs at him "you are the one who is been protected" -and that is the same in the online eng translation. That's something good to chew on, at least for me.

THAT SAID (I am very verbose, I am sorry), tysm for your in depth response at my last ask, it was a super good read and after thinking about it, I agree to your points. Especially because kou Yoneda is a master of silent storytelling, I'm always in awe of her use of silent panels. Her pure visual storytelling is where the worst sucker punches come from. Sometimes more subtle than others, you are right about that, but still very very much a storytelling choice.

hi anon, i'm glad you enjoyed my reply to your last ask, and thank you for giving me more food for thought! i do want to talk about ryuzaki at some point, both in general and specifically the parallels between him and doumeki. i'd need to reread some parts to refresh my memory and take a closer look at him first tho. ryuzaki's one of the characters who i wasn't paying super close attention to initially, but he grew on me over time, in a weird way. like moss

putting some stuff regarding translation and other things under read more (for my poor followers' dashboard experiences sake)

i looked at the original text for the part you're talking about, and i want to say that the translation you have in your version is closer to the original. it's something like "if i died, i wouldn't want him to know [about the stupid thoughts i had back then]" in reference to ryuzaki wanting to protect yashiro if he was a woman. no idea how to put the other sentence nicely in english (the one about how ryuzaki can't take care of yashiro if he's the one being protected), but again, your version seems to be more accurate, and it nicely parallels the part with doumeki. also worth noting that ryuzaki isn't exactly throwing "!" in his internal monologue here at the end of the sentences, and in the drama cd for that part he sounds pretty calm and i guess just… sad. i've noticed some punctuation changes in the translation before and they shift the tone slightly, guess it's one of those cases. wish i had junemanga's translation on hand, but i can't buy it because my country sucks (might ask a friend to buy me the digital version at some point, but idk if it's worth it since there's a lot of mistranslations in it based on what i've seen)

all that being said, my japanese isn't exactly great, neither is my english if we're being honest, so while i can point out and check some things here and there i am definitely not an expert when it comes to translation and i'm only like 70% confident in what i'm saying. just wanted to talk about this because you made me curious and i never bothered to compare the texts for this part before. and i still really appreciate all the work actual translators put in, even if there are some inconsistencies or differences here and there

moving on from the translation stuff - if you get involved with yashiro in some way i guess you're destined to get a cut on the cheek, because nanahara got one recently as well. we only see yashiro slapping the band-aid over it, so idk how the actual cut looks and there might be nothing much to it, but it's still a neat little detail

don't have much to say regarding the visual story telling, i agree with you, it's great, some of the best pages have no words on them, i'm obsessed with yoneda kou's art and she's been a huge inspiration for me since i got into saezuru. love her work so so so much

but yeah, uh, thank you again for the ask, both the previous and this one, i love having an excuse to blabber about saezuru or go look at specific scenes/chapters! going to think real hard about ryuzaki and try to organize my thoughts about him and write up something in the future

#don't be sorry for being verbose anon! clearly you're not the only one #also if anyone wants to come and smash me over the head with a rock over the translation stuff you're allowed to do so #asks #saezuru tag

[your-stranger-halfblood-things]

Secrets, What Are Those? - A Byler Fanfic

"it would be really cool if you made a fic where holly caught onto mike crush on will an she told nance and they did something like locked them in a room together lol 😊😊😊"

Warnings: implied homophobia, light angst like very light- is it even angst?, Will being cool as hell, cursing

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

Holly sat on the stairs as she played with Mr. Buttons, her stuffed animal. She looked up when a knock echoed on the front door. Her dad walked past the staircase and opened the door. "William."

"It's Will actually."

"William," Ted said, almost distastefully. "Mike's in his room."

The door closed and Holly felt the stairs under her move as the teenage boy almost ran up them. "Hey Holly," he said as he dashed past.

Holly heard Mike and Will laugh as her brother closed the door behind them. She knew of them, of course, her brother was a terrible liar and had an even worse poker face. "Mr. Buttons, let's go make Mike happy," she said, standing up. Her bear hung from her hand as she walked over to her sister's room. "Nancy?"

"Holly? What do you want? My friend will be here soon, I need to clean-" Nancy rushed as she opened her door and scurrying off to clean her already spotless room. "-you know Robin, right? Yeah, she's coming over and- What were you going to say?" She turned to Holly.

"Mike likes Will."

"Yes. Was he trying to hide it?"

"Mike likes boys. That's not allowed. He is sad. Let's make him happy."

Nancy looked at Holly is shock. "A boy can like a b-"

"Daddy said it's bad."

Silence.

Nancy sat on her bed and patted the empty space next to her. "C'mon bugger, you want to make Mike happy? Tell me your plan."

And Holly did.

-----------

Will threw the small figurine back at Mike. "It's really cool. Now you only need two more to complete the collection."

Mike nodded. He set the dragon on his shelf. "What do you-"

There was a knock on the door and Mike scowled. "Leave us alone!"

"Mr. Buttons has a hole in it!" Holly cried from behind the closed door. Mike froze. He knew how much her stuffed bear meant to her. "Nancy is busy, and mom and daddy just left," she continued to wail.

Mike opened the door and was met by a sobbing Holly. "Please," she said hoarsely. "He's in the basement."

Mike turned to Will, who was pretending not to be paying attention to them. "You don't mind if I go for-"

"I'll come with you," Will said instantly. He wasn't sure if it was to be with Mike or not be stuck with a crying Holly. "I mean, mom taught me how to sew..."

Mike smiled. "C'mon then."

The two boys made their way down the stairs to the basement. "Sorry again," the taller boy said. He bumped shoulders with Will. "How about after we get ice cream or something?"

There will be no after, Holly thought from the top of the stairs. She closed the basement door and locked it. She smiled to herself. "Let the chaos begin."

-----------

Will tried the door again. "I swear we didn't even close it," he said when it didn't budge. "Shit," he muttered.

"Fuck this," Mike kicked the door with all his might but only ended up hurting himself. He winced in pain. "I swear to god..." He slumped against the wall. Will joined him after a moment, resting his head on the wooden walls.

"It's okay, someone will notice us gone at some point," the shorter teen assured Mike.

They kept busy, looking through old boxes and laughing at nostalgic memories they shared in the basement. Mike held up an old book. "You used to make me read this to you every time you slept over without the others," he handed the book to Will, who held it up to his chest.

"You're a good storyteller."

There was a silence which seemed to last forever. Will swore it got hotter than moments before, but he didn't say anything. He just took off his flannel shirt, leaving himself in his ET tank top. He felt Mike watching him, but he didn't care. Yes Michael, I can wear short sleeves.

Mike himself wasn't sure why he was looking. He was transfixed by the way Will's muscles moved as he moved another cardboard box to the side. Mike gulped.

"Stop staring at me.*

"What?" Mike asked, averting his taze to the bookshelf.

Will looked at him. "People might think you're...different."

"Different? Like how you described yourself in the van. What exactly did you mean by that?" Mike looked absolutely serious and Will cursed at his obliviousness.

The shorter teen stomped over to Mike and grabbed his shoulders. "Mike. I am gay."

"Oh."

"Oh?" Will repeated. He was mad. "What do you mean 'oh'?" He crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow.

Mike raised his hands in surrender. "Not a bad oh! I meant it as in a me too oh." His face heated up. "I mean, I think I am. I never really liked El. That's why we broke up."

Will moved backwards and sat on the couch. "You never liked El?"

Mike shook his head. "Never." He sat next to Will. "And you? You never dated anyone."

Will fidgeted with his hands. "I never needed to. I always liked just one person and that's all I needed." He paused and waited for Mike to say something. He didn't. So, he continued. "Mike, I don't know how to make this any more clear. I like you."

"You like me." Mike asked slowly. He knew he heard correctly. He knew this was real.

Will grabbed his hands in his own. "Yes Michael. Do you hate me?"

"What, no? I could never hate you." Mike moved closer to Will. "I think I like you too."

"Think?"

Mike nodded. "When you were...gone..." he saw Will touch the back of his neck and hated seeing his this anxious. "When you were gone," he started again, "I thought that was it. You meant to much to me. I loved you so much and since you were gone, so was my point of life. I couldn't like without you. And then you can back and suddenly the world was colorful again. You made me happy again."

Will touched the side of Mike's face. "Can I kiss you?"

Mike nodded, too scared to speak. He felt Will's soft lips against his own chapped ones. And then they were gone. Just a press of lips against each other. That was all Mike needed. He grabbed Will and hugged him as tightly as he could. "God Will, I missed you so much when you lived in California," he muttered against Will's shoulder.

Will smiled. "I missed you too. A lot."

"Can I kiss you this time?" Mike asked when they broke apart.

Will nodded. "Yes. Yes, please, Micheal, kiss me." And Mike did. He kissed the other boy's lips, his cheek, his forehead- just small pecks across his whole face. He needed Will to not only understand how much he loved him, but also that he needed him.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

And it was true. It was obvious, even Holly knew. She and Nancy high fived as Robin looked between the two in concern. "You locked your brother and his friend in the basement so they confess to each other?!" she asked. "Give me the notes. Steve and Eddie are just getting annoying at this point."

Holly kissed Mr. Buttons head and swing him around in a circle. "Thank you, you were a big help today!"

#stranger things #byler #ronance #steddie #will byers #mike wheeler #nancy wheeler #holly wheeler #robin buckley #i like writing fanfic #request

[ace-for-eddie]

Part 3

“So how do you know this is actually your biological child Munson?” Hopper asked sternly.

Joyce had driven them back to the cabin and was looking through the duffle bag left for Evelyn. She grimaced at the sharp acridic smells of cigarette smoke, must and other unidentified scents.

“The timing adds up.” Eddie shrugged, still coming to terms with the news himself.

“Sure but how do you know she didn’t just put your name on the birth certificate?”

“I know she is his daughter. They look alike.” El stated from the floor where she and Evelyn where playing with some blocks that Joyce had pulled out of storage.

Hopper groaned.

“I just don’t think we can be sure.” He rubbed his temples.

“Should we call social services or something? Isn’t that like abandonment?” Jonathan asked unhelpfully from the hallway.

“No. Absolutely not!” Eddie stated with a fire in his eyes. “Sorry, just no. She’s not going into foster care.” He sighed shakily trying to push away unwanted memories.

Joyce stand behind the couch and squeezed his shoulders gently. “It’s okay Eddie, she’s staying with us. With you. And we are here to help.”

He gave her a tired smile.

“Oh god. I have to call Wayne.” He buried his head in his hands, shaking again.

“When’s he off work?” Hop asked.

“2” Eddie sighed.

“I’m going to call and have him swing by here when he’s done alright?” Joyce asked. She picked up the phone with the go ahead.

Eddie was so damn thankful for Joyce. He really needed a real adult to help him figure things out and he was sure Wayne would help but he was worried about the initial conversation that was needed.

“Eddie,” El said. “Come read a book with us.”

Evelyn looked up at Eddie and smiled. He obliged and gently lowered himself to the floor careful of his still tender wounds.

“What will she call you?” El asked.

“What do you mean?” Eddie asked in confusion.

“You are her father. She can’t call you Eddie. Will she call you Dad or Daddy?” El inquired.

“I don’t know, I guess Daddy is fine.” He really hadn’t thought about it.

El nodded swiftly. “Your Daddy can read you a book Evie.”

“I like the nickname,” Eddie smiled.

“Okay Miss. Evie. Which book did you pick out?”

“Puppy book.” Evelyn smiled up at Eddie.

“Deddie wread book please.”

El and Joyce erupted into laughter at the adorable new nickname Eddie had just received.

“How could I possibly say no to that?” Eddie wheezed out a huff, heart melting.

“Okay sweetheart, The Poky Little Puppy. Oh I like this one already. What is that?” Eddie pointed to the page.

“Poky Puppy.” Evelyn grinned wiggling in joy.

“And what in the world is that?” Eddie gasped.

“Is that a dragon?” Eddie pointed to the small green lizard on the cover.

“Noooooo…” Evelyn giggled. “It’s a lizawrd.”

“A wizard? I don’t think wizards are green.” Eddie huffed.

Evie laughed even more. “No… lizawrd.”

“A lizard? Really?” Eddie looked at her with eyebrows furrowed, “If you say so. Let’s find out…”

Eddie opened the book and started reading with his little girl snuggled up beside him.

He discovered that reading children’s books wasn’t that different from DMing. It was all storytelling, and Eddie knew how to tell a damn good story.

Now he just needed to tell ones with less gore, fighting, and monsters.

Joyce smiled widely as she listened to the young man create a world for the little girl and snuggle with her. She was surprised at how good he was with her. She hadn’t expected him to be bad with her, but he was far surpassing her expectations of most parents she knew.

#Eddiemunson #Eddieisadeddie #Deddie Eddie #eddiemunsonisadad #joyce byers is everyone's mom #hopper byers family

[the-fiction-witch]

I Swear P4

Media IRL

Character Thomas Brodie Sangster

Couple TBS X reader

Rating Smut

Concept The Storytellers curse

Smut Nonconcetual / restraint / BJ / Seed 

I was only left to stew in my rage I did want to marry the perverted boy and this damn curse knew it as it still refused to allow me even a shed of movement as if I had been laid on the strongest of glues. And I only got angry as darkness fell again. 

I headed the door opened and quickly close behind him the glow of the candle getting brighter and brighter as his steps grew closer 

"Hello princess, miss me?" 

"No I did not"

"Awww come on you know you missed me" he smirked setting his candle down beside me as he came into view "even if you just missed my fingers" he smirked 

"Please just leave me alone"

"But I wanted to come check up on my pretty little princess"

"Not your princess"

"Of course how silly of me. My future queen" he smirked giving my cheek a kiss 

"What do you want Thomas?"

"To come see you"

"You never want to just see me"

"Fine. I suppose it is best to get straight to the point" he smirked "the real reason I came"

"Is to be a perverted asshole"

"If that's what you want to call it" he smirked unlacing his pants revealing his hard erection "I thought I would test out one of the places on my pretty future queen"

"Don't you fucking dare!"

"Relax, I'm not deflowering you princess. Yet" he smirked "I'm more interested in testing somewhere else" he smirked stroking my jaw 

I immediately gasped but shut my mouth up as tightly as I could shaking my head

"Princess, don't be difficult." 

But I didn't stop

"I just wanna see what my little princess feels like? I'll pay you back I promise."

"That thing is not going anywhere near my mouth"

"Or what?"

"Or I'll bite it" 

"You bite me princess, I'll cut your pretty head off." He warned 

"I'd rather die"

"Would you? Either way I'll still do it princess"

"How?"

"I'll simply keep your head" he warns "so? Is my cute little princess going to behave herself? And open her mouth" 

I sighed as much as I hated it I knew I didn't have a choice I let our a breath and opened my mouth 

"Good girl" he Cooes moving to stand Infront of me, I didn't have to do much of anything as he grabbed my hair and forced me down to take his shaft I did my best not to gag or let my eyes water, I barely sucked or did anything but he didn't care getting a sick kick from his treatment of me moving my head back and forth by my hair using his hips to give himself the pleasure he desired all the while groaning and moaning in response to the pleasure "ummmm you are going to make such a perfect queen. I might just have to use you like this every day" he growled getting faster "uhh fuck I'm close -" 

Immediately I tried to move away but he only smirked digging his nails into my hair 

"Ah ah ah." He scolds "you're staying right here princess"

I did my best just to look away try not to think about it and soon enough his hips jerked erratically and the horrific-tasting stuff filled my mouth before he pulled out leaving some to leak down my lips as he retired his pants 

"Fuck. You are too perfect" he smirked "swallow it all princess, the guards find out any of my seed wasn't felt with properly well we'd both be in big trouble" he laughed going to fetch me a small drink "very concerned about bastard's around here" he clarified

I did as he ordered and swallowed it even if it tasted foul doing my best not to gag at the taste and texture of it having a sip of the drink he gave me “I know I promised something for you tonight but its getting late, you really took the energy out of me princess. Tomorrow night I promise I’ll repay my little princess” He smirked “sleep tight my queen, smutty little dreams” he cooed as he headed out leaving me unable to stop my tears. 

Unfortunately today he had business in the throne room meaning he sat on that damn throne all day being a perverted bastard, making little winks and such at me which only made me sick until his guards left leaving us alone. 

“Princess?”

“What?”

“Why won’t you love me?”

“Why? Because your a perverted little bastard who simply uses his position as king as this unfortunate situation to facilitate his perverted sick desires” 

“Ummm such big words for a pretty girly”

“Ughhh!” I complained, “why would I love you?”

“Becuase we should get married, and I know you agree we should so… why are you still stuck to my floor?”

“If I knew why I was still stuck to the floor don’t you think I’d have done something about it! I do not enjoy being your prisoner let alone your perverted sex toy”  

“Then we should discuss”

“Discuss what?”

“Politics” 

“I’d rather die” I sighed

“I know, so would I. we both know I want you off that floor as badly as you do. So Why do you not truely swear allegiance to me?”

“I do-”

“No you don’t you did you’d be able to get off the floor” he says “Do you not believe an alliance is best for both of our kingdoms?”

“I cannot deny an alliance would be best for both of our kingdoms I know it has long been intentioned of all kingdoms even the three that joining was and is a future for us”

“Hence what started the damn war in the first place”

“What?”

“You don’t know?”

“No”

“The war was started princess, becuase Ethirsa refused to join with morana and antalia it was planned as I recall the king of antalia would wed the princess of morana and then in turn their son or daughter would wed the won or daughter of the kingdom of ethirsa but ethirsa refused this deal feeling it was an insult the king would not marry his current daughter or that the queen would not marry his son, and so began the war of three. Hence why Morana and Antalia have had so little bad blood between them even though we were at war it was not of our own doing” He explained 

“I- I didn’t know that” 

“Now with Ethrisa scattered to the winds of demisa. It makes sense now to continue as the deal was planned, we both know there is no future for morana and antalia, kingdoms grow large and fast post-war, soon enough we’ll be emproching on each other and start a war again which we both know neither of us wants.”

“I know” 

“And we both know the taller a kingdom gets the more fragile it becomes, it would make sense for the stability of our people”

“True”

“So? Why won’t you swear to me”

“I don’t trust you”

“Why not?”

“I just don’t”

“Why not!”

“I’m sorry! I just don’t”

“You think I’m a monster”

“... you haven’t given me alot of reasons to believe otherwise.” 

“I’m sorry…”

“What?”

“I’m sorry! I know it's not an excuse but… you don’t know the life I’ve lived. Your beautiful, your smart, and I’ve been told relentlessly that my father had always planned to marry us together. For god sake, I’ve never been outside the palace, my only social interaction maids, guards and whores.” He explained 

“What was your life like?”

“Horrible.” He answered “My father came home during the winter peace and knocked up my mother, a palace maid, he quickly returned to war leaving my mother to be cared for by the other maid, My mother bled out when I was born, and never even got to hold me. As my father was away at the war and most of the kingdom didn’t know I even existed so they kept me in the palace training, I had my fun with the whores and all but they were just… things, toys to occupy my time as I couldn’t leave the palace, once my father died in battle I was thrown on the throne with no idea how I even…talk to people. And I treat everyone like a whore I’m paying to share my bed for an evening or a guard because… there the only people I’ve ever known”

“That's understandable. My father barely let me out the castle either thought it was too dangerous with a war raging.”

“If I promised to change, to learn to treat you like my queen. Would you swear to me?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you want another war?” 

I froze unable to stop the tears “of course I don’t”

“Becuase if you don't swear you know I don’t have a choice.” he says “Do you want to go to war”

“No!” I yelled “I hate war. I’ve always hated the war. I would do whatever I could I would die to prevent another war” I cried 

“What?”

“You don’t hate the war” He sighed “I lost my father in it you didn’t lose anything!”

“I lost Lucas!” 

I nodded he came to my side and held my hands softly 

“Lucas. My Lucas. He was a guard in the castle when I was young, he would bring me flowers every day from the hill. I loved him… more than anything. He wanted to marry me.” I explained through my tears “days before the end of the war, he died on the battlefeild. They wouldn’t even let me see him. So don’t you dare tell me I haven’t lost anything in this war”

He was quiet for a moment “That's why you can’t swear to me. Even though you know it would be better for our kingdoms for us to marry… you can’t face being married to me. Because I’m not him” 

“Y/n. I’m sorry. I can’t imagine how it feels to loose someone you care so much about. But… he is dead. And nothing will ever return him to this world. I’m sure the last thing he would want is for you to grieve for him forever. To see the war he gave his life for returned. To see you wither and die in mourning. I can’t ever be your Lucas. But I can try to give you life as good as what you could have had with him” 

“Do you mean that?”

“Truly. I do”

“I’d like that” I smiled 

“Then you swear? And you’ll agree for us to marry?”

“I will” I nodded he gave me a soft kiss and I tried to move my hands him attempting to help but -

Still, I didn’t move. 

[self-loathing-angel-of-thursday2]

Beautiful Spouse’s Rewatch Thoughts SPN 15x13 Destiny’s Child

“Pause the show - I made birthday cupcake mess” “did somebody open a rift into their world or what?” “kinda looks like it” “goddammit” “What the fuck?” “oh it’s them” “can the hair get any worse?” “was that pair from California? Is that the joke?” “is Jack taking after Dean or what? Eating on set? Or whatever” “are you ready?” “like a cosmic Cialis commercial? Are you ready?” “God is a dick after all, and he’s not at full strength” “since when did they ever care about balance?” “I mean a little bit I guess” “again with Sergei?” “that was kinda funny” “it’s our faith healer lady. There we go. The other red head” “She would never have taken it, right?” “not a lawyer idk” “that was really cheesy about being better looking than god” “I miss Meg. She had a cool voice” “I love how Dean agrees with his eyes. You can see him thinking with his eyes” “so he’s admitting it now/ took more than a season” “this is just coming to light now?” “last I checked, hell encompassed 7 or 8 sets.  It’s not that big” “exciting” “he doesn’t seem so enthused” “aren’t you supposed to be watching this other spell?” “this is never going to go as planned” “what the hell is wrong with these people?” “pretty sure the guy with no soul knows what’s going on here. More left brained approach” “Yeah sure whatever this is good” “Jack is going to fuck this up somehow” “a trap?” “yay” “he had to kill both the girls first” “what bitch are we talking about? I’m confused already” “Did they mean Sister Jo?” “hey it’s her. The one I was talking about” “I feel like they have a similar facial structure. Not exactly the same, but they could be siblings” “it’s the first we’ve heard the empty described” “I want this empty storyline damn” “helluva a lot of angel juice or whatever” “if angels can regenerate their grace, why aren’t they storing their extras elsewhere. Or are they allowed a finite limit?” “Doesn’t God know everything? No, he’s sick” “Jack can’t use his powers. That’s right” laughter

“Yuck” laughter

Laughter

“Your hair is pretty awful and not far behind” “I like the silk scarf” “the lock in the middle type of doors are easy to break down. Although if you kicked it down, you wouldn’t be able to seek protection” “stained glass in the window or something?” “so he has to eat it or what?” “ugh god” laughter

“What’s this thing do? Is he going to get shrunk into a box?” “I’m fkn terribly lost. i like the storytelling though” “apple to go please” “fkn drugs man” “whatever’s in that ball really messed Jack up” “ok” “those are the cleanest jeans and carhartt jacket i’ve ever seen on Jack” “how would you not know? I suppose they were somewhere” “miraculous” “amazing we caught that on film” “did he get his fkn soul back or what?” “heyyy” “that’s fkn magical”

#beautifulspouserewatchesspn #supernatural rewatch #supernatural #supernatural s15

[myu21]

The unacknowledged conflict between “zhiji” and “lover”

a video essay by QiJunXiaoSu, titled: “Film school student analyses WOH ending – Zihiji? Lovers? ‘Hear the thunder that arises from silence’”. Video link.

(for preface and all other posts in this WOH-meta series, click here)

QiJunXiaoSu is a film school student and a high quality content creator on bilibili. The scriptwriter of Word of Honor, XiaoChu Nada, also follows her work.

t/n: This article will use the term “zhiji” rather than “soulmate” in order to isolate the particular meanings that belong to the original Chinese term. 知己 is zhiji is “the one who knows and understands me”.

After watching the ending of Word of Honor yesterday, I cried my eyes out. I felt deeply satisfied and at peace, as if the bustle of the world had nothing to do with me. But I see that there is still much debate surrounding the ending, so I will take a look at these issues.

The first point I want to discuss is the much used “zhiji” and “lover” concepts. Wen Kexing and Zhou Zishu: are they ultimately zhiji or lovers? In fact, there is no answer to this question.

In the creation of story, a common storytelling method is to use the opposition between identities to create conflict - good vs evil, enemy vs enemy etc. It is the same with Word of Honor. “Zhiji” and “lover” seem at first harmonious identities but are in fact at inherent conflict with one another - “zhiji” is self-oriented, “lover” is other-oriented. Much of the drama towards the end of Word of Honor arises from the collision between these two identities, but this is a conflict of superior quality. When the majority of other stories are merely exploring superficial oppositions, I have been surprised by the deep uncovering of human nature in Word of Honor.

So long as one watches Word of Honor carefully, one can see that they, Wen Kexing and Zhou Zishu, have always understood each other. I need to emphasise here that understanding one another is not equivalent to being able to do everything that the other desires.

In my previous episode, I analysed the concept of zhiji. On the one hand, WenZhou completely understand the deepest desires of each other and know that they are each willing to die for the other. On the other hand, they are also lovers. They can accept giving up their own life in order to die with the other, but they cannot accept letting the other die with them when they are dying themselves. This is actually a very simple problem of human nature.

Wen Kexing, Zhou Zishu. “Zhiji” is their foundation, “lovers” is their essence.

Once they understand the deepest desires of the other, conflict begins to manifest. Love is selfless, they are willing to die for the other. But in the face of choice, they will both choose for the other to live. After Zhou Zishu removes the nails, he asks Cheng Ling to lie to Wen Kexing. In the end, Wen Kexing lies to Zhou Zishu. What they choose is the same.

The idea of “zhiji” has been overlaid with an otherworldly glow, while “lovers” belongs squarely in the world. In love, people are vulnerable, they have worries, they have cares. To summarise in a sentence: I understand, but I’m sorry, I love you.

A conflict such as this can really tear a person’s heart in two. I’ll provide an example. In episode 36, Wen Kexing chooses to give up his life for the sake of Zhou Zishu. Does he not know that Zhou Zishu does not desire to survive alone? He said “The person who is left behind suffers most.” Wen Kexing understands everything, but please remember, the choice to accompany him in death can only be made by Zhou Zishu, the choice to accompany Zhou Zishu in death can only be made by Wen Kexing. The right to make this choice is forever in the hands of the other person. Wen Kexing has lost too much in his life, he would save Zhou Zishu in spite of the knowledge that Zhou Zishu does not desire to survive alone, but nor would he stop Zhou Zishu from dying with him after he saves Zhou Zishu. How real is this love! So real that my heart feels pierced.

I understand, but I love you. This is a classic structure of emotional dilemma, an undergoing of maximum inner suffering that brings out the full magnetism of the character. No one can finish the show and claim that there is no love between Wen Kexing and Zhou Zishu, they are lovers who know each other’s heart.

The second point I want to discuss is the one that shook me the most – the scene in the armoury. After the intense tragedy of ep 35, I thought I was already emotionally exhausted, who knew that I would once again undergo a round of emotional torment. If one compares the red wedding to a sudden blow to the head that leaves one dazed, then the finale of the double cultivation is a sharp knife that cuts one bloody.

Even on first viewing, I noticed that Laowen’s behaviour was out of the ordinary. His entire demeanor was off, from his complaints to A-Xu, to his mocking tone, to his unusually calm reaction to A-Xu removing his nails, he was like a tightened string that was on the brink of snapping. Gong Jun once said that he felt the saddest during the scene in the armoury. Having watched it, I now begin to understand.

If one looks carefully, Laowen’s eyes are always glistening with tears, his eyes seem to yet seem not to linger on A-Xu, like the final intimate moments before a farewell. Many people have said that, in the last few episodes, Laowen’s love, care and regret towards A-Xu are not shown. I utterly disagree with this. I will say it again, “hear the thunder that arises from silence.”

He just stands there, love and despair eating him alive, grabbing onto the last moments he can to act a little coy and whiny with his lover.

When he opens his eyes for the final time, I burst out crying. How can it be so painful. “The one who is left behind suffers most. You are my senior, please allow me.” This the most painful farewell I have seen in recent years. Wen Kexing lost his parents, lost his daughter and son-in-law, lost almost everything, he cannot lose A-Xu as well. This line, after an entire life of living in the wrong moment, is his last stubbornness.

The final look in A-Xu’s eyes is even more painful than that in ep 32. The director really knew what he was doing. The two shots of the slowly sliding hands are silent messages of the highest beauty, expressing heartache through the most subtle of ways. Compared to one hugging the other in sobbing tears, this hurts me even more. Fortunately, fortunately they did end up together. Wen Kexing’s hands that slowly slide down are firmly caught by Zhou Zishu, both times. 

They are both covered in scars and injuries, how could I fret over logic in this moment? That they can always be together, that Cheng Ling established Four Seasons Manor next to their snowy mountain, what more can I ask for?

The third point I want to discuss is characterisation I often hear people say that some characters are mere plot devices to other characters. As someone who also writes stories and scripts, I was so angry I had to laugh. Firstly, a character’s charisma lies in its clashes and conflicts with other characters. Why do so many people like to ship characters? Because so often the attractiveness of a certain character appears only in relation to another character. If it weren’t for the extremeness of Wen Kexing, how does one show Zhou Zishu’s compassion? If it weren’t for the maturity of Zhou Zishu, how does one show the naivety of Wen Kexing? If this is reducing a character to mere plot device, then all characters would be.

I will say this forthrightly. Many people have complained that the scriptwriter has made the lives of the characters’ too unbearable. But if their story did not contain such tragedy, would you really be attracted to them? To love beauty, to admire strength, to feel pity – these are three basic qualities of human nature, hence why characters that embody “beauty, strength and tragedy” continue to fascinate us century after century.  

Wen Kexing’s tragic past evokes great pity from audiences; Zhou Zishu’s loneliness evokes empathy from so many people. This is essential to bringing out the magnetism of characters.

What audiences experience is the presentation of the whole story. Perhaps the last few episodes were not able to satisfy everyone, but remember that ep 12 and ep 27 are also the achievements of the scriptwriter. If the high points lifted your expectations high and therefore you begin to hurl abuses at the scriptwriter for the other plot points that do not satisfy your expectations, notice I say hurl abuses, not constructive criticism, then one begins to lose heart. How is this any different to the actions of Long Xiao? The comments under the scriptwriter’s Weibo have left me depressed. As someone also in the industry, if you care about the future of cinema and drama in China, then please spare some sympathy for those in the industry, give them some basic respect because they do not work solely to please audiences.

The story of Word of Honor is not perfect. Are there plot holes? Certainly. But this does not mean that this is not an excellent drama. Word of Honor is not a godly masterpiece, it is simply Word of Honor. A small-budget web series. A surprise that arrived in spring and made me walk outside my door to enjoy the sunshine. I am very grateful for Word of Honor.

(please comment or reblog if you would like more content like this post)

#word of honor #woh meta #qijunxiaosu