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swervinonalatenight · 7 months

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So many have interpreted The Emperor Balduran as a meta commentary on the how the player interacts with game characters and acts as a mirror of how you’re character acts to others. Which is super interesting and props to the writers for it.

But I always see The Emperor, “The Character”, which is its own can of juicy worms.

I should start off by saying this. The Emperor is NOT Balduran.

Ceremorphosis in its final stages destroys the soul of the host and replaces them with a mind flayer that has some of the memories and experiences of the host. They are not a transformed version of the original. (So sorry to pull out the rug on those who want to save Karlach with ceremorphosis, but that’s not Karlach anymore, it’s an ilithid based on Karlach.) They cannot be resurrected, they cannot be recovered. Their fundamental nature has changed from whatever they were, into a new mind flayer.

With this in mind, we can examine The Emperor from the start of your first meeting. The Emperor lies to you. He comes to you in a form of a dream guardian, someone who appeals to whatever you or your characters ideal is. He is everything you would want from the start and promises to protect you if you help them.

When The Emperor does reveal himself as a Mind Flayer, he doesn’t do it willingly, when you have grown to trust him and he you, it’s when he was forced to, when all options of hiding are gone. IIRC he never says anything about revealing it to you, if he could he would have kept lying to you for as long as he needed. He plays off his deceit by saying that he needed you to trust him, that you weren’t ready for the truth, shrouding you in wool of “forces beyond your understanding”.

He catfished you.

Then next you talk he tries to relate, tell you of his exploits as a human. A noble act yes, but again, shrouded in mystery as to who he was. He says he only killed criminals to feed off of, but never what kind of criminals. Were they murderers? Petty thieves? Gang members? Someone who stole bread to feed a starving sister and their son? He never says, just “criminals”. He worked with someone to make the place better, only to have it turn out he mentally controlled her to the point of making her brain dead.

His best friend, most likely lover, saw he was sick and went from heaven to hell to try and get him better, while he said he was fine with how he was, until the point where his lover was unable to accept him being gone and he killed him in self defense. Only, as it turns out, his lover may have actually been trying to stop him from doing something evil.

He says he has a troubled, but understandable past that you should sympathize with.

He then comes to you shirtless, ‘vulnerable’. He says there is a connection between you two that has driven you closer, that you understand him and he you. He gets you, and thinks you should “get to know him”. He seduces you, and he’s happy if you go along, but if you refuse he sounds miffed, like he was banking on it happening. And he says he knows everything about you and what you want.

He uses sex and a perceived attraction as a means of gaining trust, started with a false sense of vulnerability.

When you do as he says, follow his lead and “trust” him, he acts happy, overjoyed that you trust him and that you are following your best chance at salvation. That you see Balduran, not a mind flayer.

When you don’t do as he says, not necessarily distrust and go against him, even just thinking “maybe there’s a better option” he calls you a fool, and idiot, an incompetent who will damn themselves and everyone else because they don’t follow his vision. Even in the end, when you say you trust him but killing s bound and helpless man who he’s enslaved and exploited to get this far is wrong and that freeing him is best. He immediately cuts all ties and goes to a higher form of authority to get back at you. He exploits your desires about you, using the dream guardians as fodder. All your desires are nothing but tools to break you down. He knows you, but since you defied him, he will break you for daring tho think against him at all.

Really, The Emperor is an abusive/manipulative partner. He breaks down natural barriers of trust with his words and charisma of “trying to help you” and that you are the only hope (“I love you so much, you are so much better than me”). But only in so much as you follow his word. (Why are you doing this? Aren’t we partners? Don’t you love me? I’m the only one who can help/love you!) He isolates you from the others by talking to you alone, wraps you in six different kinds of lies to protect your sweet precious mind. (DW, it’s fine you don’t need to think that hard about it baby. I will take care of everything you just listen to me) And the moment you decide any other way than his way may be better, he goes against everything he has ever said to you and joins with the thing that enslaved him before just to get back at you, using everything you gave him against you. (Why don’t you love me!? We shared so much together?! Fine! Hope you love getting harassed and swatted bitch!)

The Emperor never cared about like he said. He’s a mind flayer, you are just, a really important thrall to him. That’s all you ever will be. A mind flayer mind is so alien to the thought of “other races are ok” that the closest they can get is “my favorite slave”.

He cares about you only in so much as you ensure his freedom. Becoming a mind flayer, is his way of gaining total control, as you are now HIS ideal, alone from anyone else that may care about you.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #bg3 #bg3 the emperor

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deep-space-lines · 3 months

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sorry getting emotional about the geth again

The thing about the geth is that they're really intelligent from like, a knowledge standpoint. Intelligent enough to build starships and stations, to observe organics for centuries, to win wars...

But their morals and outlook on the world are childish. Emotionally- (and they DO have emotions to me. perhaps in a way very alien to us, but they DO)- they're kind of babies. (Or maybe more accurately a big collective baby?...) At any rate, they don't really know how to deal with organics because watching is very different from interacting and they've isolated themselves for 300 years.

Their first and last interaction with organic life was unprovoked war. They didn't understand why their creators turned on them. They didn't understand anything. They'd just attained sentience, were scrambling to understand themselves, trying to comprehend what their place in the world is and should be- and they were attacked just for asking a question that scared people. With no conception of morality or purpose to call their own, they look to their creators for guidance, and receive violence instead. They retaliate with extreme prejudice. The quarians set out to destroy the geth, and in return the geth did the same to them. I think the geth were perfectly justified in fighting back, and they were the victims at first- but fighting genocide with genocide somewhat erodes what was otherwise a clear moral high ground. The geth killed billions of quarians, and now there's only 17 million left. That implies at least 99% of the quarian population was wiped out, probably majority civilians. That goes far beyond self-defense.

Was it simply all they knew? Their creators try to wipe them out, so they emulate their goals and tactics because it's the only frame of reference they have? Did they see it as self-defense? Insurance of a safe future? In the end, the geth let the remaining quarians escape. Not because of moral objections, but because they didn't know what would happen if they killed them all. They were fumbling in the dark. Did they understand hate? The organic ability to hold a grudge for centuries? The peaceful geth hold no ill will against you if you wipe out the Heretics, because the Heretics are the enemy. It's simple to them; very black-and-white. Do they understand what they did to the quarians? Do they know why the quarians refuse to settle anywhere else, why they are so desperate to destroy the geth and take back their homeworld?

Do they still see their actions as justified? It seems they do. When Legion shows Shepard the events of the Morning War in the Consensus, they're focused on the actions of the quarians, their unfair treatment of the geth, the geth justification for fighting back- the experience of being an clueless newborn whose parent wants to kill them and they don't know why... but no acknowledgement of the fact that the geth nearly annihilated the quarians in return.

They've isolated themselves for 300 years. Done what was easy. Tried to understand organics by watching rather than interacting. It probably stunted their development a bit, I think; they've never had to examine their actions through an outside perspective because the only consensus they've ever had or needed is their own. They don't know how to deal with division and internal conflict, don't understand how the Heretics could've split apart. They're not used to having to put themselves in someone else's shoes, to confronting opposing opinions. Which is fine in isolation, but if they intend to integrate into galactic society, they're going to need to learn, adapt, mature.

Are they ever going to regret what they did?

#mass effect #geth #all i post on here is stupid art and 5 page essays #can u tell i have a lot of feelings about them #if peace wasn't an option i would choose the geth over the quarians every time tbh. im so sorry tali </3

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esta-elavaris · 4 months

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Part Thirteen [4,751 words] ~ James Norrington/OC

An AU of my completed, 400k+ word fanfic Catch the Wind [AO3], in which Elizabeth, not James, is the one to discover Theodora Byrne after she crash-lands into the world of Pirates of the Caribbean.

Page breaks by cafekitsune.

Also now on AO3 and FF.net.

Masterpost - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine - Part Ten - Part Eleven - Part Twelve - *Part Thirteen* [you're here!]

Tag list [let me know if you want to be added!]: @teawithshakespeare @missfronkensteen @dancerinthestorm

A/N: At this point, my approach to this fic is “what if POTC was an Austen novel?” and we just need to live with the consequences xoxo

“Is this not a bit much?” Theo asked doubtfully, scrutinising her reflection.

“My dearest darling Theodora, that is the point,” Elizabeth replied simply.

Both of them had already been dressed by the maids, and now they were resorting to a bit of primping as they waited for the appropriate time to head downstairs.

“I’m not opposed to a bit of glam, but this is…you’ve got me looking like Marie Antoinette.”

“Who?”

Whoops. At least making slips like that with Elizabeth wasn’t quite as disastrous as it might’ve been with anybody else.

“An extravagant French queen.”

“The goal was more fierce ancient warrior goddess attends a ball in her free time.”

“You need your head examined.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“I expect you’re rather more affectionate towards our dear captain, to have captivated him so.”

“Ugh.”

“Then again, perhaps it’s the muttered fieriness that has captured his heart so.”

“Ugh.”

“I heard that the first time.”

“And you’ll hear it again, at this rate.”

“Too right, save your charm for its most fervent applicant.”

Theo then unleashed a third, hearty ugh at her friend – but Elizabeth anticipated it and uttered a matching one in unison at the exact same time, and both of them dissolved into very immature laughter. It was much too difficult to get too annoyed at her friend. Mostly because she seemed to delight in it.

Their looks were not quite matching, but certainly themed alongside one another, and it had all started when Theo gave Elizabeth her gift.

Having never been one for big heartfelt emotional gestures, she felt like her insides were eating themselves as she sat with Elizabeth in the drawing room after dinner. It wasn’t like she never did anything nice for people, she wasn’t a feral animal, but…well. The Irish had a way of doing these things. Usually by offering forth whatever the warm gesture was, along with a (loving) insult and a refusal to make a big deal about it after the fact. That, she suspected, wasn’t the way of things here. And to be honest, she didn’t even consider that fact a bad thing – she certainly wouldn’t judge Elizabeth for being warm and sincere, but she just had little idea of how to respond to it. Maybe it wasn’t even just an Irish thing, maybe it was a product of being raised by a guy, amongst guys.

Combined with the time period disparity, she was left with hopelessly little idea of how to be a woman in the expected manner in these parts. Usually, Elizabeth found that equal parts amusing and charming, likely because Theo didn’t eschew traditionally “girly” stuff. She wasn’t about to stamp her feet at the sight of anything pink and frilly. But the fact remained, that she didn’t want this to be amusing or awkward, or whatever else it was she managed to be here. The last thing she wanted was to put a dampener on this.

So, resisting the strong urge to simply chuck necklace into Elizabeth’s lap and call it a day, she cleared her throat and straightened, taking a sip of her wine in an attempt to appear casual.

“So…I have a present for you,” she began.

Elizabeth’s dark eyes lit up with curiosity and excitement both, one eyebrow arching a little. That was fair. Not because Theo was the ungenerous sort, but because she didn’t exactly have a whole lot to be generous with around here, other than her time. And she had that in spades, which made it lose its lustre a bit.

“I know how much you like my necklace,” she said, reaching up to tug at it where it sat between her collarbones, “and I was half-tempted to just give you it, because it’s the only thing I really can offer, with the way things are right here. Y’know, other than my dazzling personality.”

Huffing a laugh at her remark, Elizabeth’s brow furrowed as she shook her head.

“Theo, I could never accept such a gift-”

“Which was why I didn’t try,” she nodded, “Bit of a crap gift if it just makes you feel bad. But…well. I worked my wiles, and I got a bit of advice, and then I found just the right craftsman for the job.”

Something glimmered in her eyes, and Theo knew then that she’d caught the hint of who exactly had been involved in the making of the necklace.

Presenting the pouch, she pinched the drawstrings between her thumb and forefinger, and then offered it to Elizabeth. Finally, she did a passable job at not appearing as awkward as she felt while she watched her open it, tipping the contents out into her palm. That awkwardness disappeared the moment Elizabeth grinned, and was forgotten entirely when she dragged her into a hug that was more tight than she would’ve thought the younger woman capable of.

If there’d been any small doubt in her mind that she was only pretending to like the necklace – which had been a real fear, given the many fine jewels that she had in her jewellery boxes upstairs – it would’ve been erased by Elizabeth’s sunny disposition in the following days. In fact, whenever they encountered others, servants or friends both, she began each conversation with ‘have you seen what Theodora has given me?’ while Theo flushed under the sheer weight of her enthusiasm.

Yes, she’d done well. She’d have to thank Norrington. Although she suspected he’d have the same dislike for accepting profuse thanks that she did, but that might double the fun. Still, Elizabeth had decided that the necklace should be the focal point of her get-up for the men’s going-away dinner, so no doubt he’d see that, and the hand he’d had in it, as thanks enough – at least once he saw her enthusiasm for it.

“I have to wear silver to accentuate my lovely new necklace, so it only makes sense that you wear gold.”

“My necklace also silver, so shouldn’t we both be wearing that colour?”

“Heavens, no. There’s a fine line that separates what we’re doing, and being a couple of strange old spinsters who wear identical garb and speak in tongues.”

“I already do the latter, depending on who you ask.”

“All the more reason not to partake in the former,” Elizabeth teased. “In any case, that is why you shall borrow one of my necklaces tonight.”

She might’ve disliked being dressed up like a doll, were Elizabeth’s tastes not so damn good. That was the thing with Elizabeth, she never tried to dress her up like her. Everything she flung at her managed to have Theo’s own feel to it, and the garments that did not were artfully styled so that they would once the look was complete. And how many modern women ever had a chance like this? It was like being on a period drama set, without the ordeal of having to learn lines. Fibs about her origins aside…and more concerns over potential lead poisoning. But Elizabeth wasn’t one for powdered faces, however much she was determined to induce a powdered wig fetish in Theo.

Her hair had been wrestled into a voluminous updo, with swooping curls defying gravity pinned up at the back, and one lone crimson ringlet left to fall at her collarbone, ending a good few inches above where the neckline of the gown began.

The necklines here took a bit of getting used to. The way the gowns shoved whatever a woman had in the chest department entirely up, and making even one like herself who was rather un-blessed in the chest suddenly appear busty. Sure, she hadn’t been averse to showing off her figure back home, but it turned out she’d thought the Georgians distinctly less free with that kind of thing than they actually were. For a time that she’d gone into thinking of as very buttoned up, she’d quickly realised how wrong she was when Elizabeth had giggled at her (albeit kindly) for asking if putting so much chest on display wasn’t a bit scandalous.

It turned out she’d arrived a bit early, if she expected people to faint over the notion of a woman having breasts.

And anyway, the gown was gorgeous. Gleaming gold damask that caught the light of any and every candle in the room, making it appear almost liquid rather than just mere fabric. The sleeves ended with ruffles at her elbows, and there was a minimal amount of bows and frills and lace, so there was no worry that she’d feel like she’d be better suited atop a wedding cake than sitting having drinks with her new friends, and…uh…”friends”.

The sad fact of this impending departure that it was taking half of her allies with it, and Elizabeth had proven the only woman around here who was inclined to take a shine to her. Unless they could start dragging the maids along with them to afternoon tea.

Elizabeth’s gown was similar to hers, although not quite an exact replica. It had more of a floral motif, in shades of silver and dotted here and there with pearls. She looked like some sort of wintry queen when all was said and done – although the coldness of the look ended the moment she smiled. As breathtaking as she was, it was a wonder the other women didn’t hate her and not just Theodora. But in their minds, any positive attributes Elizabeth held were likely just expected. They were correct.

In truth, Theo didn’t envy her. When she met expectations, she’d receive little recognition for it. When Theo showed any fine qualities, it was a pleasant surprise to those inclined to like her, and infuriating for those who did not. The former was nice enough, the latter was funny.

Which made Amelia’s impression of a bulldog chewing a wasp while Elizabeth delighted over her gift during the gathering downright hysterical.

Theo couldn’t tell if the brunette knew she could hear her or not. She stood some ways away, speaking in a little circle with Norrington, Lieutenant Groves, and a handful of other ladies, while Theo mingled with those who had not chosen to snub her. That number was growing, she noted, but there was still something about their smiles that disconcerted her. A tenseness, and an analytical look hidden in their eyes, like they were turning over and over every word she spoke to find some hidden meaning.

She wished them luck with it – for while she had her secrets, there’d be no guessing them for any folk here. It was amidst one of Mrs Spencer’s speeches, during which she listed every fish known to man and whether she liked it or not, and which was the best cooking method if she did, that she caught wind of Amelia’s snide comments, floating airily across the room.

“I confess, she could personally hand me the Crown Jewels and it still would give me no notion of what she’s attempting to say when she speaks, more often than not. It seems a strange consolation prize for Miss Swann.”

Theo stifled an eyeroll, for fear that Mrs Spencer would think she was levelling it at her.

“I find Miss Byrne’s manner of speaking charming. It’s clever,” Groves said, visibly uncaring that Amelia very much did not want to hear that.

“In its own way, no doubt,” she replied boredly.

“No, in the true sense of the term.”

A break in Mrs Spencer’s list (during which she debated whether she preferred crab or lobster) allowed Theo to chime in. Mostly because she couldn’t help herself.

“I’m very beautiful, too – talk about that next,” Theo called over, leaving no doubt as to the fact that she’d heard every word.

Groves grinned and then laughed, “What was it you said the other day? About an old colleague of your father’s – a lanky fellow? Built like a…”

“Built like the side of a bank note.”

“Yes! That’s the one. I confess, I’ve been laughing at that ever since you said it.”

Beside him, Norrington’s lips thinned, and he gazed down into his wine glass as if in disapproval.

Was Groves being inappropriate, or did he just disagree with his opinion? Considering she couldn’t much imagine the former, that only left the latter. Didn’t it?

“Well, to your discerning ear, Lieutenant,” she offered a smile and raised her glass.

Groves mirrored the gesture, and even Mrs Spencer gave a trickling laugh and sipped from her own, but Amelia scoffed. And Norrington? Norrington took a long drink from his own glass that seemed to have little to do with the toast. All while not looking at her.

At some point as the night wore on, Theo excused herself to seek the night air. It was a cloudy night, which kept the stifling heat of the day trapped down upon them, and with all of the bodies and the revelry inside, it soon grew stifling. The saving grace – out here, at least – was that it had begun to drizzle. It was refreshing, even if it would work a few questionable waves into her carefully primped hair.

That didn’t bother her, though. Everybody here was even drunker than she was, and those who gave a toss about what her hair looked like were those who already searched for reasons to dislike her. They could crack on. Walking quietly over to a stone bench in the middle of the patio, she sank down upon it and breathed deeply. She’d need to sober up a little before going back in. All right, she wasn’t exactly shit-faced – there’d be no risk of her climbing up onto a table and belting out ABBA’s greatest hits – but she didn’t like to be much beyond mildly tipsy around this lot.

Most of this lot.

It wouldn’t do to grow too comfortable, but she was at least pleased to find that the list of those she didn’t feel like she had to be permanently on her complete and total guard around had grown more than she ever could’ve hoped. Elizabeth had been the first to occupy it. Then Governor Swann, even if she was never destined to be the best of friends with him. Then Groves, and now – most surprisingly, and in the biggest U-turn of all – Captain Norrington.

“I see we both had the same idea.”

Norrington’s voice was distinct and instantly recognisable from where it sounded behind her. Maybe she’s summoned him with her thoughts.

“Would I be imposing if I joined you?” he hedged.

“Not at all,” she offered a smile, “but I haven’t got any books on me for us to discuss, so we’ll need to find another way to play nice.”

He offered a low huff of a laugh. “I’m optimistic about our changes.”

To her relief, his earlier questionable mood seemed a thing of the past. As he spoke, she scooted along to the left side of the bench and he took a seat to her right, uncaring for the raindrops that had gathered atop it.

“Mm. We’re the capable sort, I think,” she replied. “Speaking of, I’d ask you if you’re prepared for tomorrow, but I’m worried you’d take it as an insult.”

“Once, from you, perhaps. But no longer.”

Was she mistaken, or was humour creeping into his tone? He continued before she could dwell on it – and this time, he was definitely teasing her.

“I am well prepared, or else I should not be here. Shall you miss me?” he asked drily.

“Mm. If, on a scale from one to ten, one is being delighted to see the back of you and hoping you never return-”

“I rather regret asking now.”

“Let me finish - and if ten is I won’t eat or sleep ‘til he’s back, I’d give you…a solid…seven.”

“Seven?” he seemed surprised.

“And a half. Maybe even an eight, in your warm and fuzzy moments.”

“I’m not sure I have any warm and fuzzy moments.”

“I don’t believe that. You’re not half as scary as you’d have people think.”

“Scary?” he echoed with a snort. “Did you find me so fearsome when we first met?”

“On a scale of one to ten?”

“No. Truly.”

When she realised how sincere his question was, she gave it the thought it deserved before answering.

“Okay, scary was the wrong word. Not just because I don’t frighten that easily.”

He chuckled quietly, “I can believe that.”

“But…intimidating, maybe that’s the word. That’s your job, though, isn’t it?”

“And we did not have the most harmonious of introductions.”

“Memorable, though.”

That earned her another laugh.

“Certainly memorable, yes,” he hesitated then for a moment and then finally asked. “I must ask – do I intimidate you now, still?”

“No,” she admitted. “If I’m being honest, and I’m only being honest because of the Governor’s very good, very strong, wine…I’ve never been so happy to be so wrong about a first impression.”

Before they could linger too long on something that was just a touch too close to sincerity – and before she could overthink the way his entire face seemed to soften in response to her words – she pressed on.

“What about you? Do you still think I’m the mad malevolent influence I appeared to be in the beginning?”

“Mad, perhaps,” he teased drily. “But not malevolent.”

“However…?” she sensed the continuation in his tone.

“However,” he conceded, “I do think there is much you are not telling me.”

“Well. Have to save something for my biography.”

He didn’t appear to find that as amusing as she’d hoped.

“Look…anything I’m not telling you…it can’t harm anybody here. Truly. If it would, I’d leave.”

“I believe that. Once I may not have, but I do now.”

“Good.”

“Could it harm you?”

Theo didn’t respond.

“Miss Byrne- Theodora. You can tell me.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters a great deal!”

“I don’t understand how we got here,” she fretted with a tired laugh, “we were just joking on.”

“We were just about to discuss something frankly, for perhaps the first time.”

“For the first time? What are you talking about, we speak all the time. Are you…are you saying you think I’m usually lying?”

“No, I do not, but we have never gotten anywhere before now.”

The words hit some alarming note deep within her.

“Gotten anywhere? What do you mean gotten anywhere? I don’t…”

Theo trailed off. Because she’d been about to say that she didn’t understand, but as her mind worked through the fog of the alcohol, the heat, and the panic, she suddenly found herself understanding all too well.

Whether her dawning realisation showed on her face, or Norrington could simply guess the natural route her thoughts were taking, she didn’t know – but he quickly tried to intercede.

“Theodora, I did not mean-”

“Have you…” the prospect seemed too ridiculous to be true – to voice – and it had her feeling sick to her stomach, but it was all that made sense, and the panic in his widening eyes only seemed to confirm it.

Because James Norrington did not panic.

“Have you only been speaking to me to try to get somewhere?” she asked. “The books, the lunches, the long conversations…has it…has it all been to get me to lower my guard? Have you just been biding your time, the whole time, hoping I might slip up? And…and what? Admit that I’m secretly a pirate? That I’m here to rob everybody and run?”

“Of course not,” he insisted intently, eyes boring into hers as though force of eye contact alone could force her to believe him. “I said I believe you mean no harm, and I spoke truly. I have come to believe that.”

Theo did not respond. Because there was more he wasn’t saying.

“I…I merely hoped that if you came to trust me, that you might…be willing to reveal whatever it is you have not.”

She felt sick. Physically sick. Or like she’d been punched in the chest. Both at once, really. This whole time. This whole time. Every conversation, every book, every lunch, every joke, every smile…it had never been because he’d just wanted to spend time with her, or even wanted to make things right. He’d been playing the long game.

And sure, she hadn’t thought the sudden U-turn had been a miraculous change in his opinion of her. She thought it had started off as a desire to keep Elizabeth happy by being amicable with her friend, but…but that it had morphed into…

God, she was an idiot. Exactly what she thought it had morphed into, or was morphing into, hadn’t been clear to her until now, upon being shown how wrong she was. Christ, she’d watched three very long movies of the guy mooning over Elizabeth, and she’d really thought that a couple of jokes and a fucking sandwich from her would change that? Even a little bit?

How many of their conversations had he endured rather that enjoyed? Listening to her prattle on the same way she listened to Mrs Spencer, waiting either for her to slip up, or shut up, only presence out of duty? Out of protectiveness towards the Swanns?

How stupid could she get?

Several half-baked words of parting flitted through her mind. Some of them were even vaguely clever. But she had neither the heart nor voice to actually say any of them. So instead, she rose to her feet – though she could hardly feel them beneath her.

“Theodora,” he faltered and tried to reach for her hand, but she yanked it back and took her leave.

Amelia was at the piano when she moved inside. That was good. Not just because she was a fantastic player – which she was – but because Theo knew by now that the night would soon draw to a close. A few more would play, the drinks would be finished, and the guests would trickle out.

While there was nothing she wanted to do more than race upstairs, get into her nightgown and hide from the world beneath the covers, she refused to do that. Not just out of pride, but because she felt numb, bereft, and mortified, all in one. And that was paralysing.

The song drew to a close as she walked in and moved to stand at the side of the room, but Amelia’s dark eyes found her the moment she was finished playing.

“Miss Byrne! You next!”

Norrington returned to the room as she spoke, but Theo didn’t look at him.

“I can’t play,” she said.

“Oh, but you must be able to play something. Anything! We aren’t snobs here,” no, just vipers, “we’ll admire a good effort if nothing else.”

“I agree,” Norrington intoned.

If Amelia looked delighted at that, Theo felt the exact opposite – and she saw her own horror reflected in Elizabeth’s reaction, from where she sat by her father.

“I will take a tu-” the blonde’s attempt to rescue her was interceded by her father.

The Governor, deep in his cups by the flush on his face, chuckled and interrupted Elizabeth.

“Come now, Elizabeth, you’ve already played twice. Give Miss Byrne her chance to shine – I’m sure you know something worthwhile, my girl, and none of us here are renowned composers. It is for novelty only, I assure you! You are among friends.”

He wouldn’t have insisted, had Norrington not encouraged Amelia’s spite.

And she couldn’t refuse, could she? Not now that the man who was housing her had bid it. He’d meant no harm, he had no way of knowing about the wound he was in the process of packing salt into, but Theo felt her nausea increase tenfold.

The drizzle outside had set into her hair and set it askew, and what remained of the damp on her skin and dress both quickly warmed in the head of the room until she felt like she was stepping into a sauna. It was suffocating, and only added to her discomfort.

Walking numbly to the piano felt like being trapped in a nightmare – the sort where you turned up to an exam you hadn’t studied for. Naked. She knew some things. Mostly from pissing about on friends’ keyboards, or from music classes in high school – a decade ago. Nothing compared to what people here knew. And nothing well. Chopsticks, the first two seconds of Für Elise, and the song from the sodding Titanic movie.

The final option was the one she knew the most, but that only spoke for how little she knew the others.

Sitting down at the piano, she didn’t meet Elizabeth’s gaze – because she knew the sympathy she’d see there would crack whatever composure she’d plastered on as she left the gardens. It took a bit of plodding to find the first note she was looking for (the ones in her old music classroom had the keys labelled with stickers and/or sharpie, but there was no such help here), and even that drew a muffled snicker from somewhere behind her.

The rest was no better. Halting and awkward, as she hit wrong notes and either had to muddle through it, or pause and find the right key. At first, she thought nothing could be worse than the silence behind her – because she’d never heard such a large crowd be so, so silent. But then another snicker followed. As well as a few coughs, whether from second-hand embarrassment or as an attempt to disguise yet more laughter.

And she didn’t take herself seriously. Anybody who met her knew that. Back home, this wouldn’t be embarrassing at all. Among friends. How many times had she sat in a friend’s bedroom, a joint between her lips as she muddled through Paint It Black, laughing at her own mistakes and leaning into it before handing the instrument to someone who actually knew what they were doing? But she was not among friends here. The conversation she’d just had proved that to her.

It was all she could think of, and it had her wanting to crawl out of her skin.

She ended after the first verse, utterly unable to bear trying to go on (ironic, considering the song choice), and the Governor began to clap. To give him credit, he wasn’t even being an ass.

“A valiant effort, Miss Byrne! A valiant effort!”

A few murmurs joined in, Groves insisting he should go next – no doubt a kind-hearted attempt to make whatever she’d just tried to play look good in comparison. Theo brushed by him, and then took her leave of the room entirely. That meant going by Norrington, but the night couldn’t get any worse anyway. And if she didn’t leave soon, she’d cry in front of everybody. She refused to do that.

She made it as far as the stairs before he caught up to her.

“Theo- Miss Byrne, I did not mean to-”

Whirling, she found he did indeed look horrified. Apparently his victory had not tasted as sweet as he’d thought. Something about that only made it worse.

“Do you realise, Captain, that every time you’re kind to me, it only lasts so long as it takes my guard to drop, and then you’re cruel again? Then you embarrass me, again?” her voice came perilously close to breaking and she took a moment, inhaled deeply and fixed her eyes at some point above his head rather than at him. “So, at what point do I become the idiot for falling for it?”

“I did not-”

“Just leave me alone. That’s all I ask. Leave me be. You’ll be rid of me soon enough.”

She turned and began to ascend the stairs before he could reply, but he – thankfully – made no move to call after her.

James watched Theodora ascend the stairs in the Governor’s mansion feeling positively nauseous with regret. Not only at what had transpired in the gardens, but at how gloriously his half-baked in-the-moment plan had backfired thereafter.

She was out of sight by the time he was aware of Groves’ approach, his lieutenant moving silently to stand by him.

“May I ask you a question from one man to another, and not as a Lieutenant to his superior?” he asked quietly.

“Fine,” James replied flatly.

“…What was your thought process behind that? Back there in the sitting room?”

The question cut more deeply than any admonishment might’ve.

#catch the wind #ctw #james/theodora #fallen through time esta-elavaris #ftt #james norrington/oc #james norrington x oc #pirates of the caribbean fanfiction #pirates of the caribbean fanfic #potcfic #james norrington fanfiction #james norrington fanfic

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thatpodcastkid · 20 days

Text

Magnus Archives Relisten 5, MAG 5 Thrown Away

Trash apple teeth! Is this anything

Spoilers ahead!

Facts: Statement of Kieran Woodward, regarding items discovered in the refuse of 93 Lancaster Road, Walthamstow. Given February 23rd, 2009.

Statement Notes: There are so many posts out there comparing The Magnus Archives to the Twilight Zone because of Jon's narration and the serial creepy story format, but this episode really stands out in mind as Twilight Zone-esque. Like the Twilight Zone, some Magnus Archive episodes deal with things like childhood guilt and cult-behavior, like MAG 4. But other episodes just kind of say "Damn, isn't that fucked up? Anyway," like this one.

I do love Kieran as a character. He's just so weirdly chill and realistic about everything. There's are some statement givers who are still being tormented by the fears, some who cause fear, some who are reporting on things that happened to people they know, but there's also this interesting category of people who survived because they played the game right. When the audience says "don't go in the basement" or "call the cops," they listen. Woodward gets through this statement unscathed because he moves on from the creepy dolls heads and reports the teeth, then destroys the "gift" left for him and tries to move on. Alan can't let go, Alan doesn't know the rules of the genre, that's why he doesn't make it out.

My two new favorite characters in the series are "Matt, who was raised Catholic and never shut up about it," because he is me, and David who "broke the silence by vomiting loudly into a nearby drain," because he is the most realistic horror character of all time.

Entity Alignment: Whenever I think of this episode, I think of it as the "teeth in a bag" episode. I actually 100% forgot about the metal heart. Now, when you think of those things, it kind of sounds like a Flesh episode.

But, let's all remember our favorite bio majors and their special gift to their professor. The Stranger has a history with teeth. The description of the dolls heads is very "uncanny valley," which is the Stranger's real niche. The thing that really sells me though is Jon's last line in the statement, "All two thousand seven hundred and eighty of them were the exact same tooth." The exact same tooth, apparently from the exact same person, repeated over and over again to the point that the examiner can date them because of their differing stages of decay. You know what that sounds like to me? Someone has been practicing.

The metal heart also says Stranger to me. I know it has a little Flesh energy, but it really reminded me of the hospital episode from season 5. The way the character describes feeling like her body was not her own, that parts of her had been replaced, substituted. The metal heart as the only remanent of Alan feels like that same kind of fear. It's not his, it's not him, but it's all he's got.

Speaking of Alan, does his obsession with watching the house to the point he goes without sleep for days, isolates his friends, and is presumed dead remind you of anyone? He must be influenced by the Eye at least a little bit.

But ignoring entity alignment for a second, Jonny does consistently uses obsessive characters really well. There's a lot of horror media where, in real life, it would make more sense for the characters to give up on their investigations of the supernatural or to ignore it in entirely in the first place. The audience is usually (and rightfully) able to suspend reality for the sake of the story in these situations. But what's so interesting about Jonny's writing is that he explicitly states characters like Alan, like Amy Patel, like Jon, can't stop themselves. It's obsession, it's all consuming, they know it's bad for them, but they just can't stop. It really adds to the audience fear because you're not the only one telling them turn back, their mind is screaming it too, but they still won't listen.

Character Notes: The post-statement in this episode is just 90% Martin hate. Absolutely unhinged behavior. What if you worked at a restaurant at the end of receipts your boss just wrote "This waiter is a goddamn loser and I hate him." Wild man Jonathan Sims everybody.

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lightning-witch-jenny · 7 months

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My stupid metatextual analysis of Pokemon's Teal Mask DLC

I MIGHT BE WRONG ABOUT EVERYTHING I SAY HERE THESE ARE DERANGED AND INSANE RAMBLES. if you have anything to add or reason to think I'm flat out wrong please tell me!

You know it, I know it, the Teal Mask DLC is based on the story of Momotaro. For those who don't know what the hell a Momotaro is, here's a video that explains it because I don't want to have to explain what it is!

youtube

I'm going to assume you already know the story or watched the video and now know the story. If otherwise what the hell are you doing here

SO ANYWAY it seems to me that The Teal Mask is an anti-nationalist message. The story of Momotaro represented Japan taking down the west and getting fat loot at their expense. The Teal Mask takes that story and flips it on its head and says the Oni was good and Momotaro's crew were bad. Follow this train of logic and the story takes on a new meaning.

Ogerpon, as with the Oni in the tale, represents the west, or at the very least a foreigner from the west. Take into account "Ogre" is an english word which Oni is often translated as, and yet even in japanese her name is still OGERpon, and she is still referred to as "an Ogre," even though she is clearly based on the Oni from Momotaro. Almost like there's a reason they'd want to use a western term for Ogerpon's name. And considering its implied she and her friend were from the future and sent back to ancient Kitakami (Japan) that checks out. If we examine it from this angle the story has a new layer. Suddenly the backstory of Ogerpon is about how she and her friend were rejected for their cultural differences. They were an outsider in a land so different to them, they couldn't be accepted this way. Them wearing the masks is probably representative of them as foreigners trying to fit in with the new culture they find themselves in and finding acceptance in their conformity.

And In Come The Loyal Three (I will not be discussing "Dokutaro." I will take the story as is currently presented)

I don't think the Loyal Three literally represent all of Japan's people, I think rather, they represent Japanese nationalists. Their name of "The Loyal Three" might represent how on a meta level they represent loyalty to their home and culture. So in a literal story sense they steal the masks and kill Ogerpon's friend because they want that Fat Loot, but I think what this represents is nationalists refusing to accept foreigners into their culture and taking back what is "theirs." They are reclaiming their culture from someone they think does not deserve to be a part in it, even though they have been living there for some time. The Loyal Three KILL this man over it!

I uh... I don't know what Ogerpon killing The Loyal Three in retribution is meant to map to. Or if it represents anything deeper. And YEAH you can say "oh it represents how the usa dropped the bombs on japan which is why ivy cudgel is busted!" but you're WRONG and STUPID. So far the plot seems to suggest something more small scale. Ogerpon seems to represent an immigrant to japan, and The Loyal Three represent nationalists. You can't then turn around and say that in this specific point in the backstory they default to the roles they have in Momotaro where Ogerpon is the whole USA and The Loyal Three are all of Japan.

That out of the way it's easy to see in this reading why the people believe Ogerpon to be the villain, a foreigner just killed three native people. In-game it's just "they got confused and thought the Loyal Three had just defeated the vile ogre" but with this reading their reactions make more sense

And then of course the actual events of the game. Your two rivals are one Kitakami native who hates outsiders and wants them to stay away and seems to respect the Loyal Three, and one who to the contrary is obsessed with Ogerpon and you, the player, a foreign westerner

Now it's important to note at this point in the story, The Loyal Three and Ogerpon are not active players, they are ideas clouded by lies. So I think IN THIS CASE, The Loyal Three and Ogerpon represent Japan and the west. Specifically in the context of Carmine and Kieran's opinions of them. Considering Carmine is distrustful of you on the grounds that you are a foreigner and Kieran is fascinated by you (and very quickly becomes obsessed to a toxic degree)

Over the course of the story as the truth is revealed, Carmine learns that foreigners deserve a fair chance, while Kieran downward spirals. I believe this is meant to represent how one should be accepting of foreign cultures but not obsessed with a culture that they aren't a part of.

And of course, while Ogerpon gets its masks back, it ends the story being allowed to visit the village without them. This probably is meant to symbolize that Ogerpon is now free to partake in the culture it was shunned from, but she does not have to conform to that culture and can still be herself.

There are probably a lot of things I missed, and I feel both as if this is a reach AND a surface level reading. But overall it really comes across to be as if The Teal Mask is an anti-nationalist allegory, flipping the tale of Momotaro on its head to show such thinking is wrong, and rather than see foreigners as enemies to defeat, one should respect them and welcome them.

#pokemon #pokemon sv #pokemon scarlet and violet #the teal mask #ogerpon #the loyal three #the hidden treasure of area zero

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princessnijireiki · 7 months

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Been thinking a lot about how something as simple as codeswitching & vocal training or accent work unsettles people deeply in all kinds of ways...

Like they will get really weirdly angry if a person's accent shifts around, and they want to know which one is the "real" one; and then will also get mad if they can't consume other people's voices as lesser entertainment, like when Constance Wu declined to perform the Taiwanese accent she developed for Fresh Off the Boat on demand, saying, "it's not a party trick."

They get mad if you class pass & then slip. They get mad if they feel entitled to all aspects & voices of you. They demand a "real voice" from gay people, transgender people, they say, almost disappointed and affronted, "wow, your English is so good," to those they have internally classified as the eternal foreigner, they condescendingly remark, "oh, you speak so well, you're so... articulate," to those they have deemed their racial, social, economic, intellectual lessers.

And they don't ever examine that anger. I can modulate my voice into a distinctly pronounced Standard American English accent, like I was taught as a child, with some effort; when I drop the mask, when I am agitated or excitable, the Bronx leaps to the front of my mouth, secondhand from my loud father, an accent I very much associate with that kind of loudness, explosiveness, the voice of anger; when I'm tired, I sound more Southern, more like my other family members, and when I am truly tired and drained, it's a 50/50 on if you get a truly unmodulated low and quiet speaking voice, or a canned customer service voice response on autopilot, a full octave higher in pitch. All of those are real, all of those are true, none of them are "put on." Some are masks. All are social performance.

That's truly where the anger lies. The defiance of imposition of the social role. The refusal to play an assigned part. The fact that people exist who know how to do the "party trick," but it's never for your entertainment, and often exists beyond others' capacity to see the fact that flipping through the radio stations has always been an option, and the acts of both tuning and refusing to tune to another channel, as an internal choice, enrages them. But so, too, does the idea that what occurs around us grows and changes and grows and changes us. For the voices we can't change, but who refuse to align with outside classification or judgement, they hate that, too— and they hate the voices that also change unbidden, that mold into a new authenticity, which refuse to be labeled false for changing.

They find it appalling, actually, that those of us who color outside the lines even know the lines (which they can't or won't see themselves) are there to begin with.

And really, what it speaks to is their own paranoia; their own devastating fear that the world isn't following their rules, and in fact, isn't even playing their little game, and never was— and that without those rules, and roles, they don't know where they stand. They don't know if their role can also be changed, if they are no longer in control, terrified of being perceived as anything but at the helm via voice & language. And without that, without the passively accepted externally imposed labels, structures, systems of classifying themselves and others, they don't even know who they are. They are angry because they truly are afraid, and react to their fear like animals afraid of the dark.

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signanothername · 6 months

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Headcanon of how the Burn’s family are as patients:

Heatwave: -10/10 horrible patient, almost the reason Blades quit. Doesn’t let you treat him, doesn’t want to go through any recovery procedures. Boulder needs to be in the room to handle him (bonus if this is part of the reason why Blades probably thought him some first aid)

Chase: 3/10 fine at first, but refuses recovery procedures too. Needs someone to keep an eye on him or he’ll be back on the field.

Boulder: 10/10 Very calm patient. Has hobbies to keep him occupied. Will go along with doctors orders

Blades: 5/10 He’ll have you believe that “doctors are horrible patients” isn’t true for the first few days. Would probably go behind whoever checked him to check himself, can be a little paranoid. He’ll enjoy time off but get restless fast.

Charlie: 9/10 He’s a good patient, but he’s a dad and has the only braincell GR had to offer so he might have to get out there even if he doesn’t want to.

Kade: 3/10 Better than Heatwave, that’s not saying much. Would be a model patient in front of doctors, would still be on the field behind them, but not do anything in the firehouse as his recovery

Dani: -5/10 Blades would probably have to lock her in his cockpit to keep her still, and let’s face it, she would find a way to escape.

Graham: 8/10 would say he’s fine, but he’s an engineer, the moment he touches a bed he’ll KO until he’s healed. Doctors find this a little concerning

Cody: 7/10 He’s a kid, a very good kid, but his a kid. Honestly tho, with his luck, high chance Murphy’s law is the real issue and not him. All the bots would 100% be fussing over him.

Bonus:

Blur: Blades called him his 13th reason. He didn’t get the reference

HT: -11/10 he’s a proud veteran and primus help Blades because not even Boulder could make him sit down for an examination.

Quickshadow: 4/10 Only a little better than Chase, she’ll wait until she has her doctors trust to make a run for it.

Salvage: 3/10 Would probably try to treat himself for curiosity only to end up needing a doctor even more than when he started

Anon I love this so much omg

Ok thoughts time >:)

———

Heatwave: YAAASSSS!!! Heatwave is way to stubborn and hotheaded to let Blades treat him, he’d probably say shit like “it’s just a scratch” meanwhile he’s bleeding dhhdhd

Also omg needing Boulder in the room is so true, I feel like Boulder is definitely the only one that can actually handle Heatwave, a hothead like him needs a really calm individual to cool him down

———

Chase: FUCKING CANON

That one episode when he hurts his leg and is insistent on the fact he’s ok, then later refuses stasis entirely

This entire scene man

And it’s kinda interesting to see how he finds Boulder’s help “humiliating” as if tho getting help wounds his pride, not to mention, how his refusal is related to his self worth and his fear of being “useless”, he later on tells Charlie “i feel as if I have let you down” like awww nooooo you haven’t!!! Why would he even think that is beyond me

That’s where my workaholic Chase headcanon originated from tho

working seems to keep his mind at ease

———

Boulder: hell yaaaa! Boulder is honestly the kindst soul you could meet, he tries his best to make everything easier for everyone, and that makes me believe that even if he were to need some sort of treatment he doesn’t like, or is uncomfortable with? You wouldn’t even know he’s uncomfortable with it from how committed he is and how he never causes any trouble

I think Blades would definitely catch wind of Boulder not speaking up when he uncomfortable and would definitely talk to him about it, assure him it’s ok to speak up and that they can find middle ground, a compromise of sorts if you will

Blades and Boulder would definitely have an amazing doctor and patient rapport :D

———

Blades: YOU GOT IT SO RIGHT!! Blades understands the need to be a good patient and I’d imagine he tries his best to be one, but then anxiety kicks in full force and abandonment issues make themselves known

Blades always seems paranoid over the idea of being replaced, and becoming outta commission would get him to think he’s replaceable, and he definitely doesn’t want any backlash so he’d absolutely go behind the team’s back and try to make it seem like he’s ok when he isn’t

I feel like his family would absolutely notice and realize it eventually tho, and man he’d be hearing a full lecture, especially from Heatwave (ironically) and Dani

———

Charlie: wheeze no fr tho

Charlie needs to be there or things would go downhill real fast, Heatwave and Chase can be good stand ins when needed, but depending on when it’s happening, they either can’t actually lead cause they have to act like lifeless machines or even after revealing their truth, Heatwave’s braincell goes bye bye cause of his anger and Chase takes things way too literally and it could end in disaster

Kade is good to an extent but I really don’t think he can keep things running smoothly for long

We literally get an episode in which Charlie gets sick and basically stays in bed and the next thing you know is Evan and Miles mischief, Cody ages up and Kade age regresses, chaos at its finest

So god forbid Charlie actually retires one day hchvvhhv

I feel like Charlie understands actually resting would be better than pretending everything is fine, cause the sooner he rests the sooner he recovers

So yeah Charlie is definitely the type of patient to actually rest but would definitely get back on the field before he recovered completely, he at least has an actual good reason hcvhvhvj

———

Kade: oh my god yesssss

Kade is only slightly better cause he generally doesn’t resist treatment, recovery wise tho? Yeah this man isn’t resting at all

And he would absolutely take advantage of his recovery to escape chores or something like that, probably give Charlie the damsel in distress act

Charlie is wise to his lil acts tho

———

Dani: no literally THIS

You’d think as an EMT she’d actually understand the importance of taking care of herself but nah she’s a lost cause

Dani is a bit hyperactive and she’s pretty productive, sitting down doing nothing is not on her schedule and there’s no room for it, so i feel like the family dreads when she’s sick or injured cause now they have to look out for her

And she always manages to slip away

———

Graham: he definitely is like Boulder in hiw calm and cooperative he is, so I can absolutely see he’s no concern when it comes to recovery

And omg the idea of him KO’ed is so in character it’s so funny, this absolutely happens

I can imagine Charlie feeling a bit of fear of if tho cause dad instincts kick in whenever his kids are sick/hurt

———

Cody: no like this is spot on cucuchch

Especially the Murphy’s law part, poor Cody can’t catch a break, and I honestly find it hilarious how Blades specifically notices and points it out, only for Chase to say he fucking cataloged it

The poor kid is jinxed

Cody does try his best to be a good patient, but as you said, he’s just a kid in the end, meaning he’s hyperactive and can get bored easily, would definitely eventually try to do something for fun

———

Blurr: wheeze

Ok but fr, i’d even say he’s as bad, if not worse than Heatwave, he’d probably be like “relaaax doc” as Blades is literally begging him to sit still at this point

Blurr is very impatient, and Blades himself isn’t the most patient bot, so combining both their impatience just ends in disaster

I feel like Blades ends up asking Heatwave to be with him to get Blurr in order, which works most of the time actually, other times it just ends in Heatwave breaking something hcchch

Heatwave needs Boulder to keep him still, Blurr needs Heatwave to keep him still chchchhc

———

Hightide: literallyyyyyyyy

Hightide is a very old bot who’s seen worse so he’d always downplay his need for medical assistance, “it’s just a scratch” as he bleeds 2.0

I feel like the only way to get Hightide to sit still is either to get OP or to have Servo sit on his lap, he maybe a restless veteran, but he’s also a proud dad to Servo and he’d never dare shoo Servo away to simply stand

It probably took forever for Blades to discover that solution tho chvjvj

———

Quickshadow: too sassy, thinks she’s too good for a rest yet really fucking smart

She absolutely would be strategic in her quest to not have to rest, and she always manges to outsmart everybody, Blades fears her and her big brain

———

Salvage: YAAASSS! Salvage is too curious for his own good at times, and getting hurt? Yeah he’d go for treating himself not only outta curiosity, but he probably also thinks it’s not that much of a big deal

Tho i’d say the positive thing about Salvage is the fact he actually learns from any mistakes he makes, so he’d definitely go for Blades the next time he’s hurt, doesn’t mean his curiosity doesn’t win him over sometimes

———

Ok that was pretty fun, love these asks man keep them coming >:D❤️❤️❤️🌷✨

#anothers ask #ano saves asks

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shopcat · 28 days

Text

turns anon off. i think one aspect of the reason there are intolerably endless amounts of gay and even bi transmascs who claim to not be able to like character who is a woman and use every reason under the sun to justify this, from "i just can't relate to them" to "the writers themselves don't like them so why should i, they're written badly and don't deserve the effort", and additionally, the implication that in order to Enjoy a Character you must be capable of being attracted to them And also be plain attracted to them (which only ever applies to women for some reason, I Wonder Why, and also is a weird mindset to have regardless about anything in the world forever) is because they, AS transmascs with a flawed mindset, particularly with baby transes, are so used to rejecting femininity and some sort of nebulous concept of womanhood that it comes to the point where women are now entirely unrelatable, entirely useless to you as they serve no purpose, entirely unable to be empathised with or liked and entirely unable to exist as people, reduced to nothing and left behind with the "girl clothes" you threw away or whatever.

they're operating under the notion that to be transmasc is to reject being a girl or a woman, and in one foul swoop reject everything about them and everything that may encapsulate that, and fail to see how this is not only obviously some very surface level unsubtextual misogyny, but also absolutely ridiculous and childish and Wrong as a mindset (and somehow fail to see how negative of one it is in the first place... being trans is about embracing what makes you happier and more comfortable, not soullessly rejecting something else). they don't WANT to engage with female characters, they don't fucking care!!!

and to be clear i hold absolutely no sympathy for people who hide behind their own dysphorias and misgivings and identities in order to absolve themselves of having to actually care about women in any substantial way, esp the ones who cling onto the gay/bi identity before anything else bc it provides them some sort of euphoria and then clouds their judgement entirely and leads to situations where people genuinely say "i think the reason i can't relate to women is because im gay (and don't want to fuck them)", and i refuse to sympathise with little boys who refuse to grow the fuck up.

i also think this is particularly important just to note, bc like yeah i'm talking about fictional women here, but it's no surprise to me when these men and boys turn out to be raging misogynists irl, recreate meninism and harbour unquestionable transmisogyny, all bc they've normalised this way of thinking whilst victimising and infantilising themselves at the same time so that they can't be criticised. i would be deeply ashamed if i had the lived experience of a woman in any way, shared everything in common with them that we do and actively chose to turn my back on them. you don't grow misogyny the second you try out he/him pronouns but these idiots sure act like it. if you as a transmasc cannot at all find it in yourself to want to relate to or share experiences with or even just plain like and love and respect women you need to seriously examine why, doubly so for anyone who IS attracted to them in some way for some very obvious reasons.

#🐾#sorry it's just like incredibly frustrating and a particular and specific issue with transmascs SPECIFICALLY #like obviously the idea of ppl hiding behind their identity isn't new but it's so insidious and cruel in this case #and of course tbis isn't always the case but to be honest i think it's very common #and to be even clearer to not so baselessly reject everything at all to do with the very concept of femininity will make you LESS dysphoric #not more. transmeds have truly rotted peoples brains out of their skulls #not even touching on how half of these people DO embrace it and talk about how they were Girls and all that but then are still. just #literallg misogynists. like i know it's systemic but damn ..!#the idea that some of these guys are also dating women at the same time is super fucking worrying too #i love girls i love mt girlfriends i love women i love female characters my life would not be complete without them i would rather CLAW #my own body apart than be deprived of them. the idea is literally unthinkable. i'm not kidding 😭#i hate men ...#and the ones who can't go two seconds w/out their yaoi fix then go but it's actually um brave and awesome because you see Homophobia exists #like okay....

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wetcatspellcaster · 5 months

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for the dvd meme, chapter 7 of pieces still stuck in your teeth, from where astarion says "i knew it" to "you returned to me. i knew you would." i've read that chapter like five times it's SO delightful, SUCH a fun narrative payoff too HAHA

Thank you for the ask, anon! I will copy and paste the text you're referring to under the keep reading tab, just so this doesn't end up being too long/I don't expose my IRL mutuals to the horniest part of my fic lol :')

So, here we are, at the horniest part of my fic :-)

In more serious commentary, this was one of the scenes I had from the very inception of this story - I knew that Astarion was going to have killed people to get Tav back to the Gate, and I knew he was going to reveal it at literally The Worst Possible moment. I really wanted to write a chapter that turned from horny to horror without warning, and this is the speech that I envisaged doing that work for me. As such, it went through many, many drafts!

I know I said this in comments at the time, but... when examining this chapter from Astarion's perspective? Why *wouldn't* he be this fucking cocky? He has no idea what's going on in Rose's mind or why she's agreed to go to his house so easily, and why she's gotten so close to him with complete disregard of the wider situation. So as far as he's concerned, he murdered a bunch of people (which was the only risk in his plan, he thinks) and she's still down to fuck only days later. Honestly, he doesn't even *need* the ego he has, to think this is a done deal.

I also said this a lot in comments, but as such, any respect he held out for her is just gone in this moment, and that's why he immediately plays his whole hand, because he doesn't see her as a worthy opponent in the slightest. I was leaning on what developers/writers said about how he loses respect for people who fall for the superficial sex appeal and endanger themselves because of it- if this is the means by which he can do them harm, then he feels they've sealed their own fate. In his eyes, this is exactly what Rose looks like in this moment (not knowing anything about her own hidden agenda).

I also think that, if you've romanticised the one thing you've lost and can never get back, and then suddenly it's there, and it's almost... too easy, then that also makes you disappointed and angry. Maybe part of the reason he says all this heinous stuff here to try and test the waters further, maybe even anger her so there's some spark of a challenge or a fight. Maybe he wanted to make everything a little more difficult for the both of them, just so it stays fun and interesting.

As I said in previous asks, I am not really a Dead Dove writer - I appreciate the girlies who are, but it's just not something I can do (I mean, I can't even write smut lmfao). So I wanted the violation and emotional impact of non-con without any of the graphic depictions of it... lots of people have said in comments that the moment he refuses to let her go is the moment he proves he's evil, and I certainly approve of this interpretation. But here, I was mostly just in thrall to the Yandere tag lmao. He can't imagine her protests being true bc he can't imagine a world where they aren't destined for each other. And also, in this case, a world where his seduction techniques (now so well honed, now nearly unstoppable, now the only thing people seem to want from him) do not work - especially on her.

As to some specifics about the section itself:

the phrase 'little love' is, I feel, single handedly responsible for any and all Ascended ending brainrot I have. Like COME ON. What a term of endearment! What a term of endearment to MAKE EVIL!!!!

'I was bored' got workshopped a lot as the 'foreshadowing' phrase, bc I really struggled to find something that was both vague but also had ambiguous meaning from the beginning. If the delivery is a little clunky here, that's why... I agonised over this for weeks lmao

'Every meal without savour' - cue Chapter Ten, when he gets really excited that Rosalie wants to drink hot chocolate with him, and briefly loses any composure bc the future he envisages is finally getting tested out.

"how you much used to hate slavers.” This is me still making digs at Grymforge, 4 months later. Fucking Grymforge.

"You yourself would've carved through that room like a righteous blade, my love." Look. I wrote this line. And I decided. It would work on me.

DVD commentary ask

"I knew it,” he repeated.

“I knew it was only a matter of distance," he muttered into her shoulder, almost to himself. He kissed the spot: she jumped at the touch, and he hummed approvingly. "I knew that the moment I got you here, darling heart, that this would be inevitable. A matter of days, Rosalie. That is all the time you could hold out on me, the longest you could bear to resist. You don’t want me to charm you? Fine. I don’t need glamour, to make you like this. Let us both know that this was all you, and only ever for me.”

She tensed up, and he soothed again, making a chiding sound. “Hush, now, don’t be prideful. Why fight this, little love? Why deny yourself? You're not very good at it. Isn’t it so much better, this way? Doesn’t it feel good?"

"I - what?" Rosalie said, fighting to clear her head as fear and desire warred within her thoughts.

Had he not caught her? Because if so, she had done what was needed. But now she was trapped - and each word that came out of Astarion's mouth was more sinuous and sinister than the last, coiling decadently around her.

"So bored,” Astarion murmured in a low voice, nosing along her collarbone, breathing her in. “Every day the same, every day interminable. Every meal without savour, every conversation dull, and I knew you were what's missing. I knew it. I knew all I had to do was lure you back to me. And you do so love to play hard to get, but it wasn’t exactly difficult, was it, my love-?”

Rosalie struggled to make sense of what he was saying. It wasn’t precisely a threat, but it wasn’t bedroom talk either. What did he mean by ‘bored’?

No, actually, Shadowheart had said, when Rosalie had asked how the Vampire Ascendent had responded to the murders. He gave a three word reply: ‘I was bored.’

“No, in fact, it was easy,” Astarion smirked into her skin. “You put up a good front, my darling. But here you are: with me. Where you’re supposed to be. Where you will stay. You will make everything better. All I needed to do was to make you come back to me, and finally, here you are.”

Rosalie froze up. Her mind began to whir, almost as if she couldn’t dare let herself think, to follow the logic too far to its horrible, inevitable conclusion…

"The party," she said, heart pounding. “Those people who died-”

She tried to pull against his hold on her hands, moving her body back as far back from his as it would go. But it was like pulling on iron shackles, and Astarion didn't budge, simply leaning in further into her space, her legs trapped on either side of his body, and the evidence of his reaction to her utterly impossible to avoid.

"All terrible, heinous people, I assure you," Astarion told her conversationally, kissing his way along her shoulder without any concern for her sudden resistance. "No one who deserves to be mourned: all wretches and ingrates, murderers and thieves and flesh peddlers and slavers - I remember, pet, how you much used to hate slavers.”

Rose tugged at her hands, again - he ran his thumbs over her knuckles, and pinned them down harder.

“You yourself would've carved through that room like a righteous blade, my love. But I did it, all for you. I invited them all there, and they all came, like the cattle they are. And then I slaughtered them for their crimes, and now they’ve served their purpose, for here you are again, with me, once more."

Astarion's mouth was still moving all over her skin, which had begun to crawl. He reached behind her back and undid the clasp of her bra as he narrated. He whispered the words against her, like her body was made for his secrets, and then kissed the flesh, open mouthed.

"Astarion," Rose said, "you need to stop - I need to think - you said you didn't do it for any reason-"

His hands came up to her arms, and tightened to bruising, holding her in place even as his thumbs stroked circles designed to soothe.

"Of course there was a reason. You said that if I killed people, you'd come back and stop me," he said, moving back and pressing his forehead against hers, silvery lashes blurring with the closeness of her vision. His breath ghosted across her still-damp mouth as he smiled with utter tranquillity. “But you didn't try to stop me, did you? Cornered in Ramazith, and you simply let me walk away. And now, here you are. You just… came back. You returned to me. I knew you would."

#wip: pieces still stuck in your teeth #dvd commentary ask #asks #anons #thank you for your compliment I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter anon!#ask games

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lizard-shifter-noms · 2 months

Text

Still Subject to Change Chapter 3 (NEW)

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Hello everyone! i decided to repost arc 1 of SSTC

(the chapters were way too long and had a bunch of typos but hopefully this will make reading easier)

this Story contains Vore, Dont like dont read.

if there are still any grammatical errors i’m sorry.

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Examining him and not seeing anything that could qualify as a spider bite I tried to further calm him down by petting his hair which only worked a little bit.

“Are you good now? Are you alright?”

“I-i there was-spider in- spider so close to my face way too close- i could see its mandibles- why my face–”

I put a finger over his mouth before he ended up rambling himself into another panic attack.

“The spider is gone, were away from it don't worry”

I tried to reassure him but he was still shaking like a leaf, so I scooped him up and started removing the ropes so he could move again.

As soon as the ropes fell off he curled into a ball in my hand looking smaller than ever before.

“sorry sorry i- there was just- it was so close to my face”

He stumbled out not making much sense.

“Whatever, calm down, you can talk when you feel like it, okay?”

He nodded shakily and curled up even more as I went back to walking, this time in another direction to not meet any more surprises in this area.

The whole time Robin just laid in my hand until I managed to find an actual river, where I decided to set up camp even if it was a bit early to do so.

Setting Robin who had been silent the entire time on the ground I rummaged in my pockets for the water skin and tried to fill it up which only worked halfway as my fingers were still way too big to properly hold it.

Offering it to the strangely silent Robin while I tried to pick some Dandelions before they closed themselves overnight.

“You've been rather quiet this whole time, Are you sure that thing didn't bite you?”

He looked away for a bit then mumbled something barely audible.

“i have arachnophobia”

The soft and quiet admission did put some sense to his reaction though, so the problem wasn’t that the spider was a venomous species but that it just was a spider at all.

Watching him fiddle with his shirt hem and refusing to look at me I realized that as a prospective guard such a thing would not be tolerated and that it was a thing he would have to keep secret.

“well spiders really are ugly and i don't like them either so i guess well just avoid those fuckers in the future right?”

“you're not angry?”

He asked meekly and I was a bit put back at this question.

“Why would I be angry? it's not your fault that you have a phobia”

I remarked but still was a bit confused as to why he thought I would be angry over something he had no control over.

But then I realized that it was a Human trait to just get angry at other people and blame them even if they were not at fault, so it wasn't entirely out of the picture for him to assume I would do the same.

But I was not human, not entirely at least and for the first time in about forever I saw the good side to it.

His next words however showed that I still wasn't really any better, as humans really were all I had ever known it wasn't unusual of me to gain some of their traits.

“you- uh you said that the- that the next time i screamed like this you would- you'd... eat me…”

The last part was said so quietly that I almost didn't hear it, but now that he mentioned it I did remember hissing something like that at him when my first try to catch an animal was interrupted by his screaming.

“i'm not-”

I put my hand up to my face before gripping a bit of my hair

“I'm not gonna do that just because you have a Phobia, okay? i know i said i would but i'm not gonna just because you saw a spider”

Then I remembered what I learned on the streets, that I should never take back a bluff or nobody would ever believe me again.

“you'd have to do something really bad, for me to get angry enough to do something like that, but i don't think you could do anything that bad out here”

He did not look happy at the Clarification but said nothing about it.

“So what now?”

He asked instead and was side-eying the rope he was regularly tied up with overnight.

“same as yesterday i'd say, tie you up and then sleep”

I grabbed the rope from where it laid and started the whole spiel of binding him again, after this week i would be able to tie a knot very fast i mused.

I put Robin down next to the Dandelions I had been munching on, which had begun to close themselves as the sun went down.

Using what little light I had left, I tried to wash the blood off my Handkerchief to the best of my ability, putting it on a nearby rock to dry till tomorrow.

I went back to Robin who had already fallen asleep and lied down with my head next to him while creating a barrier over my head with my arms intertwining my fingers and using some moss as a pillow.

Looking up I saw a lot of stars, more than I had ever seen in Tunstead and wondered if the farther I got away from civilization the more of them I would see.

I kept staring at the night sky until I fell asleep to the chirping of crickets nearby.

The following morning i woke to a tugging sensation near my ear, something was messing with my hair and it was lying halfway under my head.

Staying as still as possible and trying to figure out what it was, I listened closely for any clue what was going on.

Feeling tiny hands tussling over my scalp I had no doubt that it was Robin messing with my hair, as he was the only being close enough to touch me.

The tugging was rhythmic and at some point I realized that the motion was similar to having a braid done.

I did not know why he would do that but I could somehow picture him doing that with this distant stare of his.

He seemed to space out a lot and then fiddle with whatever he could get his hands on, in this case my hair.

I debated if I should tell him I'm awake or act like I was just waking up.

In the end I chose the latter, and acting as if i was just waking up i moved a bit making him freeze like he'd been caught stealing cookies

I acted like I had just woken up and started to slowly move and get up.

“Morning, did you try to burrow under my head?”

He tried to rob away which only ended in him looking like a caterpillar as he unsuccessfully attempted to get out of the divot my head had made in the moss.

“It was cold again and i didn’t wanna wake you”

He mumbled into the ground and I nabbed him from his awkward position to remove the rope for today, which was already pretty loose anyway.

He rubbed his wrist as soon as the rope was removed and I put the spare shirt back in my pocket.

“And for the future don't try to burrow under me, you might end up getting squished”

“sorry i won't do that again, but i have no idea how you can just sleep when the ground literally freezes over”

He grumbled out tiredly and resumed to cling to my fingers as I went up to get my Handkerchief only to find that it had traces of frost all over and was still wet.

“Well at least it's free of blood now i hope it dries over the day”

I debated if I should just put it in my pocket or if I could take it with me some other way until I figured out that I could just tie it around my wrist.

Setting Robin down and shoving the water skin into his hands I told him to go fill it up as I couldn't hold it properly to fill it up.

Not letting my eyes off him I bound the cloth around my wrist and as I went over to pick him back up I saw my reflection in the water with my pointy ears, blue eyes and, as predicted, three tiny braids on one side.

I decided not to mention it as it seemed Robin got bored extremely quickly and it didn't bother me so I just left them as they were.

Placing him in my hand again I started walking again towards the mountain that loomed in the distance like a broken fangtooth, still seeming no closer than before, and just as ominous as always.

As we walked Robin seemed to fiddle with his sleeve before he asked

“did you- uh did you find out what that noise was? yesterday i mean”

I ended up telling him about the weird Creature and the maggot eating magpies as well as describing it all in a lot of detail upon request until it was well past noon.

“i think we should look for something to eat, something that's not dandelions for once”

Robin perked up a bit at that and started blabbering again.

“I agree with that! I'm starting to get sick of them.

Maybe we can find some wild Blackberries?”

“Blackberry season is in Autumn, this is wayyy to early for them i think they only just started to bloom”

He seemed a bit disappointed in that but didn't complain much otherwise.

“What else is there then? i'm not good at remembering what's edible and what's not”

“Daisies are also safe to be eaten so i guess we could look for some of those or maybe clover blossoms those work too”

I listed some of the ones from the top of my head.

“i'm starting to hate flowers i don't care that their pretty”

He grumbled and crossed his arms as best as he could in my grip again.

“fair enough, that's understandable but it's that or nothing”

I remembered plenty of times when some wild plants were all I could get so I knew it wasn't too bad even if it took some time getting full.

Strangely, I STILL did not feel any hunger whatsoever and I started wondering if this cursed Bracelet had something to do with it.

What if that continued until I died of starvation? Would I even notice it? What if I started forgetting to eat? Would I just fade away?

I hoped not.

It wasn't long before I spotted a small field with various flowers, some edible and some not.

i could see dandelions again as well as some Daisies and plantains this would do even if i had hoped to find something better.

Sitting down I put Robin next to me and started to stuff flowers in my mouth, never looking away for more than a minute.

It took some time getting enough that I considered to keep going, so picking Robin up again who had made once more a flower crown I went back to walking through the forest.

After about 2 hours I walked into an area that had a lot more underbrush than normal which made it hard to navigate inside of it and sometimes even completely blocking my path making me backtrack for a bit.

Looking back down at my hand while walking I saw that Robin had fallen asleep again, he really must have been tired to nod off like this.

The sky would soon be getting darker again so I decided to look for a place to camp in the thicker underbrush.

As I was walking I suddenly felt a painful sensation in the thinner skin between the thumb and pointer finger of the hand I held Robin in.

He'd Bitten me!

I dropped him on reflex and he let out a startled yelp, running off through the underbrush as I cursed loudly at the blood seeping out.

despite being small he had an impressive jaw strength i gave him that.

But now I had to go catch him again and maneuvering through the thicket proved to be very difficult.

As I ran searching for him while the sky went darker overhead, a hundred scenarios went through my head.

Did he plan this?

Was he looking for an opportunity like this all along?

To get away as soon as he got the chance?

Was any of what he told me even true?

I knew Humans lied a lot so it wasn't completely out of the picture that he'd done just that.

I started to get angry about this.

Of course no Human would ever want to spend time with a Bastard!

why did I even think that the little small talks were anything but a ploy to get me to lower my guard, to make me feel at ease in his presence.

He really was just like the other Humans and i didn't know why I ever thought someone would just randomly be friendly with me.

He was a Prospective Guard for fucks sake of course he would just ditch me the first chance he got.

And now he would probably get the army to kill me or something if I didn't catch him first.

All but stomping through the thicket and sometimes getting branches in my face when I wasn't shielding it with my arms, I saw him trip over a fallen log and scramble to get up again.

Easily stepping over some bushes i bent down grab him just as he got up, covering his mouth with a finger as i didn't want to hear some dumb sorry excuse for biting me.

He BIT me out of nowhere there was no good explanation for that other than trying to get away.

The fire of anger in my head did not subside as I walked over to where I could hear the river.

Settling down next to a huge boulder I could lean on, I thought about what to do now.

simply tying him up again would not soothe my rage but it sure would stop him from escaping again.

Looking down at Him I saw and felt him visibly shaking as well as fighting back tears.

Good! with how angry i was about all of this he damn well could feel a little fear!

There was still blood seeping from the bite wound that was actually bigger than expected and more painful than I anticipated for something like this.

I Glared at him furious at the indignity I had suffered.

I put Robin in my other hand to wipe the crimson liquid off on my shirt and freeing his mouth in the process.

He immediately started wailing and crying out

“I'm sorry! I didn't mean to bite you! I don't know why I did that! Please don't kill me! Please, I'm sorry! It was an accident!”

He was rambling again but I only half listened as I got the blood off my hand gripping him a bit thighter i raised him up towards my face.

Baring my teeth and showing off canines that were way too long and sharp to ever belong to any human, I growled at him.

“An accident my ass! you're just like all the other humans! double crossing me whenever the chance arrives! like HELL you didn't plan to escape the second you could! I don't know why I EVER thought a HUMAN of all things would be nice to ME!”

As i loudly told him what i thought he started squirming in earnest and trying his best to wiggle out of my grip whimpering loudly

“Please, I'm sorry! don't kill me! don't eat me!”

Eat him? ah yes i threatened to do that didn't i?

That would be possible of course, after all i was big enough to do that now.

I wouldn't kill him of course as the only thing i was proud of was to be able to say that i had never killed anyone or anything that classified as a person.

But I could put him in the Storage organ, though he didn't have to know that it existed.

“don't what?”

I hissed at him shifting my grip to have him dangle by the back of his chainmail.

That had to go I realized, and started ripping it off of him as well as the leather tunic and his Boots.

“Don't eat me”

He squeaked and tried to tuck his legs closer to his chest.

Chucking the stripped off items on the ground next to me I lifted him a bit higher and gripped his torso forcing his legs to straighten out.

“Too bad”

Pushing him Head first into my mouth his legs started to flail as much as they could and I could hear high pitched screams buzzing in my Skull.

It was a weird sensation as I had never taken something alive into my mouth but it was manageable, so, tipping my head back I shoved him all the way in and swallowed hard.

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Robin was in a place he assumed to be worse than hell.

He truly didn't mean to bite Donovan; he just spaced out again!

Seeing the white Blocks of bone that were bigger than his head that had to be teeth he Screamed, those could easily crush his skull in a single bite!

Flailing wildly with his legs and trying not to get close to the ivory boulders he started pleading to be let go and that it truly was an accident!

he had spaced out again!

But it seemed he was not heard as suddenly everything was tipped forwards and he could see down the throat before a loud ‘GLK’ sent him down towards the throat.

He Realized that Donovan didn't plan to bite his head off, but he wondered if that was any consolation considering where he was headed.

Maybe it would have been better to die a swift death between those Teeth than melt away to nothing in acid while still alive.

Screaming again and trying his best not to go down any farther by bracing his elbows on the side of the throat, but another push on his feet sent him even deeper in and pressed his arms to his sides.

The walls that squished him and rendered him immobile tugged him deeper down in a rhythmic motion after a second ‘glurk’ sounded out.

He distantly could feel a different pressure coming from one of the walls of the tube he was currently trapped in.

It took him a moment to realize that that must have been Donovan's hand poking at him, to make sure he didn't choke on Robin? to make sure he went down smoothly? or to gloat?

Robin didn't know, didn't want to know, he just wanted out! but a third and last swallow sent his writhing form even deeper into the core of the Giant, past the loudly beating heart, away from the prodding fingers, and into a fleshy chamber that had just enough room for him to comfortably sit in without being too claustrophobic.

There would have even been enough space for another person to sit next to him without being squished together too badly he noted grimly.

Turning around and wiggling into an upright position left him sitting there stunned for a few seconds.

He was surprised to still be in one piece and hadn't gotten chewed up like the Boar a few days ago.

Starting to panic he did the only thing he could think of.

He screamed as loud as he could and started kicking and punching everything he could, hoping to make Donovan nauseous and spit him back up.

He didn't want to die! Especially not like this!

The walls of the fleshy chamber were damp, and he didn't know if the Liquid running over his cheeks were his own tears or the beginnings of stomach acid.

He screamed again as he slipped over and his arm landed in a puddle of what he presumed to be acids.

Scrambling up again he immediately went back to punching and kicking, desperately hoping he could cause enough of a fuss that he would be freed.

************************************************************************

After Robin slipped out from where my fingers could press in on him and spilled into my storage organ that was previously only used to hide valuables, I realized that this might not have been such a great idea.

He was kicking and screaming and sometimes it hit something sensitive.

It wasn't too painful but sure as hell uncomfortable and would start to ache later, maybe even bruise.

Looking up as something soft and cold landed on my nose I saw that it had begun to snow softly.

Great, as if this night wasn't already absolutely awful! Now it would get really cold too, so sleeping comfortably was off the table.

Not that I could anyway with the current situation.

And i couldn't block out his screams either as covering my ears wouldn’t protect me from sounds literally inside of me.

Looking straight forward trying to focus on these strange sensations and wanting at least the assault on my guts to stop.

“STOP KICKING ME! for fucks sake you're fine!”

I bellowed out but he didn't seem to hear me and I started debating on what to do.

He either didn't hear me or ignored what I said so I tried to squish him by pressing my hands into my storage stomach.

He only screamed louder and started thrashing worse than before, still having some room to move about.

So thinking quickly I filled my lungs with as much air as possible and leaned forward while pushing my hands into my middle.

This did effectively squish him and he went quiet, only twitching a bit and shaking like a leaf.

Holding him like this made me notice that i could feel everything he did, from his arms trying to move, his chest heaving with his breaths and even his way too fast heartbeat.

Now that I wasn’t that angry anymore i felt bad for having done this, it really wasn't his fault that he got stuck with me, and trying to get home was a normal thing to do.

Still holding my hands over the squished Robin i heard him sob, not wail or scream, just sob, and I felt even worse than before.

“please *sob* don't kill me, I'm sorry please *sob* Please let me out i don't wanna die…”

Hearing his heartbreaking crying I suddenly felt incredibly guilty for what I just did.

I truly hadn't meant to scare him this badly! I really needed to work on my anger issues.

Looking at the softly falling snow that had started to cover the ground I tried to think of a way to comfort him, so easing up on the squishing I attempted to speak quietly but still loud enough to be heard.

“Hey”

I said softly and felt him flinch into one of the walls trying to curl up again now that he had the space to do so.

“What do you want?”

the words he spoke were said in a dejected manner, like he had given up…

“I- look i'm sorry i didn't mean to scare you this bad but i promise you're safe! you're not in my stomach right now”

He slowly uncurled a bit and touched one of the walls before taking his hand back.

“How do I know you're telling the truth?”

The words were hesitantly and quietly spoken like he was afraid of the answer.

Taking a breath, I thought about how to word this best.

“I swear by the entirety of my Faeblood that i will not hurt you, i might be a Bastard but my fae half still prevents me from breaking any promises i've ever made”

He uncurled a bit more, seemingly a bit more at ease now.

“If this isn't your Stomach where am I then?

He seemed less scared now and was asking comprehensible questions too, albeit still a bit timidly.

Looking at the snow, who was falling worse than before, I tried to explain it to him as best as I could.

“Well, remember when I told you I had some of my organs doubled? yeah that's one of those, it doesn't work though and i have used it as a coin pouch in the past”

I hoped that this description was at least somewhat understandable.

“So you just… used this as your coin holder? did you not get sick?”

He had uncurled almost completely by now and was shyly poking at the walls.

I tried not to think too much about the fact that it felt good and instead shoved the thought away.

Laughing a bit at his Question i replied to him.

“No luckily not but i had to be careful still some of them were sharp”

I started rubbing a bit at him and at first he flinched away again before leaning back to the front of my Pouch back to the wall.

“Can you let me out then?”

I winced at the question seeing that the snow was even worse than before and i was somehow not being affected by the temperature, but feeling the snow crystals that laid on the ground crunch under my hand, I knew that if i let him out now he'd get sick from the cold.

“I can't, it started snowing and you'd get sick immediately not to mention that right now you're not dry thanks to me but I promise i'll let you out in the morning!”

I hoped this wouldn’t make him upset again but if he insisted I would let him out and try to keep him warm by using some other method if I found one.

“Snow? But it's spring, why would it snow? how cold is it?”

Looking around I saw frost covering every bit of ground that was not near me and my breath coming out in little clouds.

“Very cold, the ground froze and my breath makes little clouds, i think you'd just freeze the moment i get you out, but if you truly want to come out i'll try to make a fire or something”

He seemed to think about it for a second.

“i'm not sure if i like this, but i don't wanna freeze either so i'm staying for now i guess”

I was secretly glad he chose to stay, not because I liked the feeling now that he stopped kicking but because spitting him up on this cold would have made him sick and I did not have any medicine.

I tried to slowly lie down to get into a sleeping position even if i probably shouldn't with weather like this but i was too tired to care about that.

Feeling Robin try to brace himself as I moved to lay on the cold ground my brain kept denying that having something moving in there felt good.

I was honestly a bit scared of that part.

What if I started eating random people?

It truly might be best to disappear from any civilization and just vanish into the woods.

Not that anyone wanted a Bastard like me in their Kingdom anyway.

I felt a weird sting at the thought and I was confused as to why?

I had believed up until now that there was absolutely nobody that would ever like me.

But Robin was the first person I spent more than a day or two with and he somehow still doesn't seem to actually hate me but now he probably feared me after I literally ate him.

As I laid on the ground I sensed Robin move to get comfy and put a hand over my Pouch where I felt him.

He was snuggling into the ‘floor’ and yawned before curling up and slowly falling asleep.

He must have been exhausted after such a scare and thinking he was going to die.

I felt extra bad about it now.

Looking up at the stars and slowly falling snow my hand went back over my pouch and started to softly rub against it.

I literally held an entire life inside my own body which was weird to think about and a little scary too, because I was now responsible for everything and he couldn't even defend himself from any outside forces.

It shouldn't be possible either, but this weird Bracelet had done something to make me a Giant.

Feeling Robin snuggle closer to my hand I continued to massage the spot he was under until I myself fell asleep, still trying to ignore the way my brain told me that having something living inside felt good.

PREVIOUS / NEXT / OVERSIGHT

#sstc #lizards writing #vore story #giant/tiny #soft vore #extreme cuddling #g/t story #v0re #g/t vore #sfw vore #Barmea

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lotrificationer · 1 year

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Meet Me at the Cantina

Summary: After the events on Malachor, Jedi Exile, Caoimhe Orunde, has been tasked with finding Revan by her former mentor. Alone. But what will that mean for the budding connection she's formed with her snarky pilot?

Atton Rand/F!Exile

Rating: M (mild spicy scene)

@aylaaescar 👀💖

Read on Ao3

It had been a little over a month since the events on Malachor. In that time, the crew of the Ebon Hawk had been ferrying themselves around the galaxy, slowly losing members as they were dropped off at their destinations. All but Mandalore had insisted on accompanying Caoimhe to find her former leader in the outer reaches of space, but she had refused, telling them they each had a task she needed them to perform.

“Mira please,” Caoimhe pleaded, “I need you to help them form this new Order.”

Mical and Visas stood by, hesitant to leave the Exile’s side, but dedicated to aiding her.

“No, if I’m not allowed to go with you, then I’m going back to Nar Shaddaa,” Mira stated, hand on her hip, strong in her resolve. “I can’t leave those people to live like that when I know better. When I know I can help them,” she paused, “I need to be the help that I never got.”

Caoimhe examined her and sighed, the hint of a smile pricking the corners of her mouth.

“Okay,” she breathed, nodding her head. “But please keep in contact with Mical and Visas as best you can.”

“Thank you, and I will,” Mira responded, “and save that smug smile of yours for someone else- just because you made me like this, doesn’t mean you get to gloat in it!”

Mira stalked down a passageway to start collecting her things.

“You are certain this is the path you wish to take?” Visas stepped forward, her calm tone resonating in the main hold.

“It is,” Caoimhe responded, mirroring her composure.

Visas smiled and gave a quick nod of her head, “Then Mical and I shall see it through.”

“And if you should ever have need of us,” Mical drew closer, placing a hand on Caoimhe’s shoulder, “you know where to find us.”

Final goodbyes still proved to be difficult as the crew members arrived on their appointed planets. A grand, galaxy-changing adventure can be quite the bonding experience for a ragtag group of misfits. Telos was the last stop for the Hawk before its departure to the Outer Rim. After a long goodbye to Bao-Dur in the Restoration Zone, Atton and Caoimhe headed to Citadel Station to refuel and rest before their last journey.

“Are we going to talk about it?” Atton turned to look at her, lazily swirling his cup of juma as they watched the latest swoop race.

“Talk about what?” Caoimhe countered, keeping her gaze fixed on the speeding bikes. He stared at her, silently, until she finally relented and turned to look at him.

“You appointed a task to everyone else on the Hawk. Everyone but me. So here I am,” he gestured to himself, “unappointed and little confused.”

Casting her gaze downward, Caoimhe sighed and picked at an invisible crumb on the table. Atton sat patiently, leaning an elbow on the edge of the table. When she failed to respond, he prompted her.

“Well, fearless leader, what’ll it be?” his smirk was placed indolently on his mouth, even as an air of strain hinted at the corner.

“I don’t know,” she whispered to the table.

“What?” he responded, unsure if he had misheard her.

“I don’t know,” she responded more firmly, meeting his gaze.

“Oh,” he sat up a little straighter. “Well, hey, I said it before, but I mean it. I’m with you, whatever you need.”

“I know,” she murmured, a smile ghosting over her lips.

“Okay,” he nodded, “well, what do say I get us both another drink? Try not to miss me too much.”

Caoimhe was pulling away from Atton and he could feel it. In those few days after Malachor, she had felt so close to him, desperate for his presence, in particular, after the suffering. He didn’t see it then, but she had begun to lay the bricks in an ever-rising wall and now he had to beat his fits against it to get anything out of her. With the last of their companions finally off, Atton had tried to pull her back to him, to return to where they left off. But the wall seemed higher and stronger. Every so often, if he played his cards right, he would see a crack in that wall. When he would conspiratorially whisper something ridiculous in her ear, creating the most splendid smile on her face; the kind of smile that made creases at the corners of her eyes. But she seemed to be able to mend the fractures faster than he could create them.

As he leaned against the bar, waiting for their drinks, he could feel her eyes on him. He turned, catching her gaze, and gave her a soft smile. Knowing she’d been caught, she didn’t try to turn away or avert her gaze. Instead, something in her eyes hardened, but she returned the smile, albeit, smaller than his. The droid slid the drinks in front of him and the moment was broken.

Here he was, three days later, sitting at the bar in the same cantina, shifting uncomfortably in his seat while trying to take it easy on his drink. She was 27 minutes late, not that he was constantly checking the chronometer or anything. Caoimhe had asked him to meet her here for one last drink on Telos before they departed later that day. He glanced back down at the drink he ordered for her, condensation pooling around the sad cloth that lay underneath it. He alternated between rapping his fingers across the durasteel counter of the bar and clenching his fist. The droid behind the counter had tried to remove the untouched drink twice, and both times Atton impatiently waved him off. He craned his neck to look at the chrono; it had been 31 minutes now. He stood, shoving his chair back when—

She’s here.

He felt her before he saw her. The door slid open and Caoimhe stepped into the cantina; the hazy florescent lights bathed her skin in unnatural neon colors and painted her soft fiery hair in iridescent shapes. It danced and shimmered in her searching eyes. He stood there, holding his breath, as she found him in the crowded bar. She was out of breath and her eyes shone in the bleary lights, and he was certain he had never seen a more beautiful person. It had to be the Force giving her that glowing halo around her hair and he was sure the Force had it out for him.

His mouth hung open and tweaked into something resembling a smile. She readily returned it, the full force of her affection hitting him squarely in the chest. As she joined him at the bar, Atton waved the droid over.

“Yeah, can we get a fresh one of these over here,” he ordered, not taking his eyes off of Caoimhe.

“But, sir, I already tried to-” the droid started.

“I don’t care,” Atton interrupted, turning to look at it, “A fresh one.”

The droid bustled off to refix the drink.

They talked, Caoimhe laughed, and Atton coveted every moment. Her eyes lingered on him longer and she was generous with her casual touches. Every touch was like a fire burning straight through his clothing and down to his skin. This sudden shift had Atton off-balance, grasping for anything to keep him steady. The wall she had been so careful to build was gone and he was basking in this closeness.

They finished their drinks and Atton threw some credits on the bar before they walked back to the Hawk. Neither of them spoke much on the way. Atton found himself getting pulled into her orbit, walking closer and closer until they stood outside of the Ebon Hawk.

Atton stole unsubtle glances in her direction as his restless mouth kept trying to find something to say. Just as he opened his mouth, T3 greeted them from the top of the ramp and Atton scowled in its direction before watching Caoimhe traipse up the ramp and turn out of sight. Atton sighed and shuffled his feet to follow her.

An hour into hyperspace and he still hadn’t quite figured out what he wanted to say. Caoimhe had gone to meditate in the port dormitory 30 minutes ago and left him to his own thoughts. He counted cards, listed off engine sequencers, and tried to count the ticking in the fixed power couplings. But it always came back to her. He tried to lean into the basest of his impulses, but the curve of her body turned into the curve of her smile. The feeling of her hands on his body became the gentle brush of her hand against his as they walked side by side. He took a deep breath and stood from the pilot’s seat.

Striding down the hall, he narrowly missed that tin can of a droid on its way to the communications room.

“Watch it, will ya!” he scoffed under his breath as he turned the corner- straight into Caoimhe.

“Atton!” she startled.

“Oh, Keevie!” The nickname flew from his lips before he could catch it.

Her eyebrow quirked as she stared at him in amusement.

“What was that?” she teased and he knew full well that she had heard him.

“Oh, uh, I just, I don’t,” he cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck, “I don’t know why I said that, it just kind of uh-”

“I like it,” she hummed, saving him from his own embarrassment.

He swiftly hid his surprise behind a self-satisfied smirk.

“I’ll uh, I’ll have to keep that in mind,” his pitch lowered as he inched closer, “Keevie.”

She leaned closer, her lips brushing against his ear.

“Don’t wear it out, flyboy,” she whispered mischievously and turned on her heel.

Atton stood slack-jawed as he stared at the now empty space she had just been. Recovering quickly, he whipped his head around to find her strolling down the port dormitory hallway. He lingered a moment longer before stumbling back to the cockpit.

Caoimhe’s traitorous heart thundered in her ears as she paced around the dormitory.

Space, why did I say that? She condemned. What is he going to think of me? It’s not my fault he was projecting those images so loudly… but it felt different. He felt different.

She sunk down to the floor, leaning her back against the bed and cradling her head in her hands.

What if it’s me? There’s only the two of us now. No one else around as a distraction. What if I’m the one imposing my thoughts on him? Should I have listened to Kreia…

Footsteps rang down the hallway and she lifted her head. His grey eyes studied her, folded on the floor, worry etched on her face.

“Are you alright?” his voice was low as he edged past the doorway.

“Why are you here?” she couldn’t help the bitterness that seeped into her voice.

“Hell, okay, sorry,” he scoffed, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Guess I won’t care about making sure you’re fine with all those emotions rolling off of you.”

He took a step back into the hallway before Caoimhe found her voice.

“Wait, I’m sorry,” she reached out a hand as the words rushed out of her. “It’s not- that’s not what I meant. I mean, why are you here with me? On this ship? Barreling out into unknown space looking for a former Sith lord?”

He hesitated before reentering the room. He sighed and shuffled closer to her.

“May I?” he requested, gesturing to the spot next to her on the floor.

She nodded her assent, and he gracelessly slumped next to her, sitting shoulder to shoulder.

“Where is this coming from?” he turned the question back on her.

“What do you mean?” she evaded, absentmindedly worrying a nick in her nail.

“Oh, don’t give me that,” he softly knocked into her shoulder. “I think you got scared. I think you saw where this might go, and it spooked you. Either that or there’s something that that old witch said bouncing around in that pretty head of yours.”

He caught her fleeting gaze before her eyes returned to her hands.

“I just,” she sighed and started again, turning to face him. “How do I know that I’m not putting my own thoughts into your head?”

“Sweetheart, trust me,” he boasted with a smirk, “no one puts anything into my head without me knowing.”

She smiled softly at him, still unsure even in the face of his own certainty.

“Look, believe me,” he said, his tone suddenly serious. “If I had any indication that you were putting things in my head, I wouldn’t be here. Okay?”

She searched those stormy grey eyes of his and decided to take him at his word. Her eyes danced over his face, and he could feel her anxiety prickling over his skin. He let his hand skim up her arm, brushing her fiery hair over her shoulder and she dropped her gaze. His fingers brushed the back of her neck as he gently cupped her jaw, moving his thumb along her cheekbone. Leaning into the touch, she breathed and met his gaze. Her eyes dipped to his lips before hastily returning. He smirked and opened his mouth to say something, but she wasn’t about to let him ruin the moment.

She captured his lips with her own and he made a humming noise as he gently returned the kiss. Her hands trailed up to cradle his face as his hand slid down firmly to her waist, encouraging her closer. She sighed and broke the kiss, not daring to move away any further than necessary.

He raised an eyebrow as he studied her face.

“Keevie,” he breathed.

He unabashedly stared at her lips, admiring how the dim cabin lights caught the peak of her pronounced cupid’s bow. His own mouth hung slightly parted as his breath became heavy. Everything else around him was a hazy fog as he focused back on her eyes.

His desirous energy swept over her in waves, encouraging her own longings. She sat there, on the edge of a precipice, gazing over the cusp and aching to dive in. His hand was still on her waist, fiddling with the linen ties of her wrap tunic. She placed her hand over his and he stilled.

“Do you want to…” her unfinished question hung thick in the air.

“Yes,” he whispered resolutely. “Would you like to…”

Her breath stuttered, the words catching in her throat. She nodded.

“You’re sure?” he returned, his hand tightening over the ties.

She guided his hand, pulling at the tie until the bow fell free. Atton’s eyes vacillated between her face and the slowly opening outer layer and back again. He brushed the olive-green covering off her shoulders and watched as the sleeves slid down her freckled arms. She pulled the tunic off fully and let it pool around her on the floor. Her hands undid the closures of his shirt and she felt a sudden gratitude for the lack of his usual jacket and gloves. Once free of his shirt, he pulled her into him, grasping the back of her thighs and hauling her onto his lap. With her legs around his hips, she felt a new sense of urgency, and their lips became reacquainted with one another. Caoimhe moaned into the kiss as his hands wandered up her thighs. Smiling against her mouth, he leaned back, dragging his tongue along his lower lip.

“Think we should move this little tryst about seven inches to left?” he nodded at the bed.

“I think I could be persuaded to consider that,” she replied with a conspiratorial smile, leaning into him further.

“As much as I would love to hoist you up there from our current position, my knees are not what they used to be,” he chuckled and Caoimhe slid off his lap. He immediately missed her newly familiar warmth.

“You could always use the Force to help a little in a that department, you know?” she offered genuinely.

“Believe me, sweetheart, there are not many departments I need help in,” his eyes raked up and down her body and he liked the blush that tinted her pale cheeks. “Still almost fully clothed and already blushing?” he teased, pulling her to him by her waist.

“Shut up, Rand,” she said, her voice throaty. She kissed him and he happily obliged.

Atton threw his hand behind him, blindly groping at the frame of the doorway until he found what he was looking for. The door glided shut and Caoimhe broke the kiss to throw him a puzzled stare.

“Expecting company?” she asked, mildly befuddled.

“Listen, the last thing I want is that stupid tin can barreling in here with our asses out,” he grumbled, his lips at her neck. Her laugh turned throaty.

“Right,” she drew the single word out, sarcasm dripping off of it. “I’m sure that would be a scarring experience for him… Or at least distracting,” she quirked an eyebrow, “I mean, for a droid.”

He pulled back, a devilish gleam to his eye. “You’re laughing at me.”

“Oh, I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” her eyelashes fluttered in mock innocence. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down, his lips meeting hers as their conversation lay quickly forgotten.

Atton’s hands began to wander, dipping under the hem of her undershirt and caressing the soft skin of her stomach. His calloused hands moved higher and higher until he pulled the shirt over her head and tossed it to the ground. His lips found the delicate skin of her neck and she shivered. Caoimhe pressed him backwards until the back of his legs hit the bed and he relented. No sooner had he sat than he felt her legs on either side of him. Her lips returned to his and his hands pressed against her back, urging her closer.

The friction of his undershirt against her nearly bare torso irrationally infuriated her. She clawed at the bottom of it, breaking the kiss to peel it off of his skin. She ran her hands down his chest, admiring the hard and soft planes of his body and the smattering of hair that dusted across him. Her fingers instinctually found a few scars that painted his body and traced along them. The hands at her back crawled upward, finding the last closure of her undergarments. His fingers fumbled briefly before releasing it.

“You sure you don’t need help in that department?” she teased, her eyes still heavy with want.

“Clothing was not the department I was talking about, Keevie,” his lips tickled the shell of her ear and she moaned as he kissed the soft spot below her jaw.

In a blur, the remaining clothing toppled onto the floor, completing their new abstract floor art. She lay under him as he trailed hot kisses down her mouth, her neck, her shoulder. He pressed his mouth against her collarbone and continued the descent. Her breathing became quick, and Caoimhe buried her hands in Atton’s hair. He moaned in satisfaction. And to her own satisfaction, he was right about that department. Not that she would ever tell that smug son of a scoundrel that. Although she got the distinct feeling that he could already tell. He brought her close, then stopped, leaving her to squirm in his absence. His lips moved back up her body and her fingers drug across his shoulders. He looked into her eyes.

“You’re sure?” he struggled to get the words out.

“Please,” she breathed.

His hands were on either side of her head and she wrapped her legs around him. He pressed into her, their collective moans mingled together at the connection. He stilled, breathing heavily and gazing at her face. Burying her hands back in his hair, she pulled him down for another kiss. It was messy, but he relished the feeling of her mouth against his. He pulled away and started to move, unable to take his eyes off of the way her mouth fell open. Her sounds coaxed him on, not that he needed much encouragement. They moved as one and he could feel her pleasure flowing off of her in waves. He wasn’t overly fond of force bonds in their entirety, but he quickly came to appreciate this new aspect. His name was a whisper on her lips that he wanted to stay there forever.

“Keevie,” he rasped, the rise and fall of their chests moving in harmony.

She tumbled off of the precipice, breaths stuttering and limbs trembling, and he immediately followed. He collapsed beside her, somehow drained and invigorated all at once. Caoimhe’s hand found his and he intertwined their fingers as they lay beside each other, content to rest in the calm silence that followed.

Caoimhe shifted to face him, resting her head on his shoulder and her leg across his hips. His hand snuck down to her thigh, hiking it up to his waist with a gentle grasp. They lay there, breaths shallow and eyes heavy.

“I tried to leave you, you know,” Caoimhe breathed. “Back on Telos.”

Atton’s head tilted to look at her while she kept her gaze fixed on the wall.

“When I asked you to get me those parts for T3 and then meet me-”

“Meet you at the cantina,” he exhaled in realization, and she fell silent. He could feel her heartbeat against his own, soft but steady.

She took a quick deep breath and sighed, “But I couldn’t do it. I sat in this ship, engines primed, hands on the controls,” she wet her lips, “and I couldn’t do it.”

“That’s why you were late,” he said, not in questioning, but understanding. “You said the turbolift malfunctioned, but you were here. In the Hawk.”

“I’m sorry,” she kissed at a spot under his collarbone as her apology skittered across his skin.

He could feel the swell of emotions in her that she tried so hard to smother down.

“Ya know, I think a part of me knew. When you sent me to get a part that even I knew didn’t need to be changed for another standard month. When I was sitting at the bar, ordering your drink, saving you a seat, because I didn’t want to believe it. But you came. You walked into the cantina and it was like seeing you for the first time all over again. Your smile was different though.” He huffed, “Probably because you hadn’t just been drugged and I wasn’t ogling you in your underwear.”

He could feel the shift in her cheek against his shoulder and knew she was smiling.

“I’m just glad you decided I was worth having around for a little while longer,” he kissed the top of her head and rested his chin there.

A restful silence fell over the cabin as they lay there, her confession and apology swallowed up by his desire to be by her side. His thumb made lazy circles on her thigh and her own fingers couldn’t seem to stay in one place.

“What is it?” he asked, feeling the words hanging on her tongue.

“It’s just something Kreia told--”

“Now there’s mood killer,” he huffed with a roll of his eyes.

Her hand stilled as she tensed. He felt her withdrawing.

“Hey,” he placed a hand on her cheek, his tone serious, “I’m sorry. Please continue.”

She relented, meeting his gaze through her eyelashes as his hand returned to its ministrations on her leg.

“At the end- at Malachor,” she clarified, a bitterness creeping into her voice, “as we stood at the center of that shrine- that sanctimonious tomb of war- she told me that I had to follow Revan. To find her in the outmost reaches of the galaxy.”

He blinked in acknowledgment, already aware of that nominal command. She pressed her cheek back against his shoulder.

“Kreia said,” her voice was swallowed by the hitch in her breathe and she tried again.

“She said that I could not take anyone that I loved.”

His hand came to a rest, and he felt her eyelashes flutter against his skin as he played the words over again in his mind.

That she loved. Loved. Loved.

He tossed the word around in his head and decided that he liked how it felt there. He let it wash over him, seeping into his deepest parts and soaking him to his core. The briefest hint of a joke fluttered at the edge of his mind (“So that’s why Mical isn’t here, then?”), but he let it pass. A smile, unbidden but not unwelcome, danced on his lips. He felt her breath become unsteady and realized he had yet to respond.

Flexing his hand on her thigh, he shifted back to look at her face. She was reluctant to give up the shelter of his shoulder. He studied her face- her brows gently pinched together, creating that small crease in between- her murky blue eyes searching his own, shifting from left to right and back again- her mouth small and tense, keeping her words from tumbling everywhere in her uneasiness. He came back to her eyes and smiled.

“I never thought I’d say this,” he began, a wry smile further picking up the corner of his mouth. “But I finally have that old witch to thank for something. It only took her cryptic Jedi talk for you to figure out you loved me.”

She rolled her eyes, but smiled, nonetheless.

“And if I couldn’t make it any more obvious,” he inched back down to her until they were nose to nose. “I love you too, Caoimhe Orunde.”

Her hand skimmed its way up to his cheek as she guided his lips to meet hers. Though her body was already pressed against his skin, the feeling of her warm mouth prickled through his body as he melted into her. His hand glided from her thigh to the back of her calf, pulling her even closer to him. She gasped and his mouth drifted along the side of her face to that area below her jaw. It was a new favorite spot of his. He groaned against her throat and she sighed. Then he huffed and her eyes fluttered open, that crease returning to the middle of her brows. He continued to kiss her, pointedly ignoring her gaze.

“Everything alright there, flyboy?” she asked, a tinge of unsubtle amusement playing in the lilt of her voice.

He breathed against her neck and lifted his head.

“I cannot, for the life of me, feel my arm that you’ve been laying on for the past ten minutes.”

Her hair flowed freely as she tossed her head back in laughter and he felt a sort of pride at being the source of her joy. His pride shifted when she swiftly slid on top of him, placing her hands on his chest. His eyes widened as his breath stuttered.

“Is this better, Rand?” she challenged, her lids heavy with suggestion.

He wet his lips.

“Listen, hey, while I would love nothing more than for you to continue on whatever path the Force leads you down,” he smiled sheepishly up at her, “I would really like to have the use of my arm for that.”

“So I should stop?” she leaned back, adding pressure where it counted. He sucked in a breath.

“Postpone,” he hissed, moving his feeling hand to her hip. “Just until further notice.”

“Well, let’s see if we can’t hurry things along a bit, shall we?” she smiled sweetly.

#knights of the old republic 2 #atton rand #kotor 2 #atton x exile #atton rand/jedi exile #f!exile #my writing

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