#so scourge has to find another way | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

brayneworms · 1 year

Text

shoot it up (straight to the heart).

featuring. childe/reader

word count. 5.7k

content. merc!reader, drinking, kissing, masochist!childe because i am not immune to that agenda, sparring, gender neutral reader, childe is a little shit, blood, finger sucking, biting, handjobs, hair pulling, one instance of degradation (whore), light begging and light crying.

synopsis. childe has always found you fascinating; now that his stint in liyue is up and he's scheduled to return to snezhnaya, he takes the opportunity to get something from you he's wanted for months.

notes. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, i check the notes and you will be blocked.

"Ahh, the scourge of the complacent! Fancy seeing you here on a night like tonight."

You tip your eyes up to the ceiling of the inn; his voice rings out clear as bells over the chatter and rowdiness, and maybe it's a mark of your attunement to his specific brand of irksomeness that you hear the bounce of his footsteps approach over the general cacophony of laughter and drinks slamming.

There are four empty stools at the bar. He takes the one right next to you, sliding home with a boyish grin. You scratch at your forehead with all the fatigue of a working mother-of-five, catch the bartender's eye, and silently flag down another drink.

Tartaglia whistles as you raise the cup to your lips, making you pause; mead sops against your mouth, burning against raw picked skin. "I see even the alcohol of Liyue is no match for you, scourge."

"Don't call me that," you say flatly, and knock the cup back. There isn't enough booze in this whole tavern to make this a bearable conversation, but at least you could soften the edges. If you got drunk enough, you might be able to pretend he was nothing more than a lurid ginger mosquito buzzing around your head for attention.

Attention you always seemed to grant, no matter how much you swear you'll ignore him.

"Your lovely friend at the funeral parlour told me I might find you here," Tartaglia continues talking even though you're staring at the ceiling praying for patience. "She's pretty fond of you, huh? Can't imagine why, with your prickly attitude—oh, barkeep, I'll have what they're having, please." He flashes a pearly grin at the bartender, who pours him a cup of mead.

"Did you come here just to bother me?" you grit out, staring at the dregs in your cup; it sloshes darkly amongst the dull silver, and you can see a glimmer of a reflection, your eye staring back at you.

"What an ego you sport!" Tartaglia sounds righteously offended. "I came here to drink." And as if to prove his point, he raises his cup to his lips and takes a deep gulp. You can see his pale throat flex as he swallows, the bob of bones beneath papery skin.

He coughs a little as he sets the cup back down, empty. You try not to let your surprise show on your face.

"Liyue mead has quite the burn," Tartaglia comments. "You'd think I'd be used to it after being weaned on that Snezhnyan paint-thinner, but what can I say? This place has a kick."

He leans back on his barstool, a vaguely soft, wistful look passing over his features. Then he says, "I'll certainly miss it."

The cup slips from your fingers, and you curse yourself. "You're leaving?"

Tartaglia smiles, a little sadly. "The Tsaritsa summoned me back. I'll have to take off by the end of the week."

"No shit?" Tartaglia's been posted here and bothering you for way longer than you arrived to act as a temporary guard for the Wangsheng Funeral Parlour. You weren't sure why such a place needed extra beef with security, but it paid well, and Hu Tao and Zhongli were well-meaning employers and good company, so you could hardly complain. That was the beauty of freelance, after all.

"Oh? You sound disappointed." Tartaglia leans forward, cupping his chin in his hand; his eyes find yours, gleaming in the low light. "What? Don't tell me you're going to miss me?"

You glare at him. "Do people miss the mosquitoes they swat when they're buzzing around their head?"

"You always act like I'm vermin," Tartaglia pouts. "Still, you're having a drink with me—I consider that a victory."

"One of your few," you toast, raising your cup, and Tartaglia's playful expression sullens a touch, like a cloud covering up the sun. "Oh, don't get all kicked-puppy on me. Thought you could take a little pain."

"Better than you know," Tartaglia says with a stunning return to form and a coy grin. You must be just tipsy enough to entertain him, because you don't seize a handful of his bright hair and ram his face into the bar like you briefly consider doing. There wouldn't be much in it for you beyond the satisfying crack of bone and yelp of pain. As for Tartaglia, he'd probably get off on it.

You both down another cup, and now the lines that make up the tavern are starting to blur pleasantly. There's a soft, fuzzy feeling filling you up, like you're made of cotton instead of flesh and blood and magic. A faint flush has made itself known on Tartaglia's cheekbones, lurid against his hair, illuminating the scatter of freckles across the bridge of his nose. He's surprisingly lightweight, for as hard as you known Snezhnayan liquor to be.

"Would you walk with me?" Tartaglia holds your eye like he's making a promise, though not to you. He says half the things he says like he's talking to someone else, someone you cannot see. He holds out a gloved hand, grinning. "C'mon. I want to show you something."

Your brows knit up, suspicious. "Why me?"

"I'm currently not speaking to any of my other friends," Tartaglia says haughtily. "Sneaks and liars, all of 'em. As, uh, disarming as you are, scourge, at least you're honest. So... c'mon. Humour a man's last wish."

"You're not dying," you say acidly, but you get up. Tartaglia grins, delighted, sweeping up his coat from the barstool and paying out. You follow him out of the tavern; Liyue comes alive at night, you think, the harbour glimmering with a thousand lights, the water lapping at the chalky walls. Tartaglia takes your hand as the tavern door swings shut behind you. He runs warm, and you can see freckles spiralling up his wrist, and before you can protest he's started a brisk pace away from the water.

"The hell?" you mutter, making a weak attempt at taking your arm back. "Hey. Tartaglia. Where are we going?"

"So formal," he calls over his shoulder. "You can call me Childe, you know."

"Like that's even your real name," you roll your eyes. "What difference does it make?"

"Hm. Tartaglia feels more like a title. It's the name I use when I want to intimidate, you know?" He looks over his shoulder at you, the dull blue of his eyes catching in the moonlight. "I'm not foolish enough to think I could ever intimidate you, of all people."

And when he says that, it feels like a compliment. You curse the hot prickling you can feel at the backs of your ears as he leads you through town, up near where the mountains crest. It's all rickety ladders and bridges for a while before you come to a plane nestled between two great rocks. Grass and gravel spill out beneath your feet; in the middle of the wobbly circle is a wooden training dummy with chunks carved out of it. Torches bracket the space, filling the night with shifting bronze light.

It occurs to you briefly that Childe could be luring you out here to kill you, but just as easily the notion flees. He might be Fatui, and he might be insufferable, but the two of you have no real grievances as far as you know.

Besides—you're stronger. And the both of you know it.

You sweep a flat look around the circle and raise a brow. “Homey.”

Childe giggles. “You’re always so sharp-tongued, scourge. I’ve been reflecting on my stint in Liyue in light of everything, you know? What with my leaving so soon. I remembered the first time I saw you fight.”

Your brows draw up, taken aback; this is not a sentiment he has shared with you before. He paces as he talks, starts gesticulating like he’s trying to stir up a wind, though the night is virtually breezeless. Warm and damp and encapsulating. A line of sweat encroaches under your collar.

“Some treasure-hoarders, they made a chokepoint out in the Guili Planes to intercept traders going down the road,” he tells you, as if this is news. “Zhongli asked me to deal with them myself, ‘cause they were stopping import to the city. But as soon as I got up there to scout it out, I saw you. What you’d left, anyway. This… trail. Like this—this big patch of carnage and you just in the middle of it, going blade-to-blade with this monster of a thief twice your size. Would you believe I was almost arrogant enough to think you needed my help?” His eyes shine feverishly, the moonlight catching off dead-fish-blue. “You brought him to heel like a misbehaving dog. He gave you a bloody nose and you just—just wiped at it like it was nothing. Didn’t it hurt? Always wanted to know if it hurt.”

“It hurt,” you manage, frozen with shock. He’s getting entirely too het-up too quickly, feverish in his excitement, pale cheeks flushed wine-red, and he moves closer as he waves his hands, eyes locked onto you like he’s a dog and you’re his master. It makes your blood feel too thick and too hot in your veins.

“Thought so,” he breathes. “Thought it must’ve. It kinda… it sings, though. Doesn’t it?”

Stuck, you nod, though you only half understand what he’s talking about.

Apparently satiated, Childe rubs the back of his neck bashfully. "Hah, sorry. You really get me talking, scourge."

"Don't give me the credit," you mumble. "It's one of your natural talents."

"Wanna see another one of my natural talents?" Childe grins; at your sharp look, he raises his hands placatingly, smile stretching ever wider. "I meant fighting, of course. C'mon. Truthfully, I've been thinking about it ever since that day. Fighting you."

He says that—fighting you—with the same sort of soft reverence one might reserve for making love or worshipping a deity. Like it's the centre of his world, the cell his heart was born from. You wonder how long it's been since Childe's days were anything but fighting, then reckon that that's probably a deliberate choice.

When he holds out a blunt wooden training staff out to you, his hands are perfectly steady. You heft it in your grip, getting used to the weight and balance. You're more accustomed to knives and swords, and small blades you can slip into your boot or belts, but you're not unfamiliar with polearms, exactly.

"Feel good?"

You jump; Childe's pressed closer to you in the time it took to examine your new weapon, and his words are accompanied with a brush of warm air across the back of your ear. "It's okay."

"Good! I want you at top form for this." He slopes off, twirling his own staff between gloved fingers obnoxiously. It makes a faint whistling sound against the warm night air. "Think you're ready?"

"Ready?" You can't help but sneer. "I don't need to be ready to fight a pest. I just do it."

Childe's grin is so wide that the flushed apples of his cheeks turn pointy. "Alright, killer. I've been looking forward to this for a while, and, y'know, I dunno when the next time is I'll meet someone as interesting as you... so don't disappoint me, yeah?"

The first crack of your staffs together sings.

It's an old melody, one you're attuned to, one you think you were born with. Impact shivers up your bones, disturbs the skin in a railroad of gooseflesh, sets your teeth on edge. There's the anticipation, the moment right before the new sensation turns uncomfortable or painful, like pressing down on a bruise, the moment before it starts hurting. The staffs gnash together like wooden teeth.

"You're quick," Childe says approvingly as you draw your arm back to your side, circling him in short steps. His eyes follow the lines of your body like he's trying to set you alight. You're not sure why you're doing this, actually—your relationship with Childe has been nothing but tepid the whole time he's been stinted in Liyue. From your end, anyways. He tends to sort of follow you around like a lost puppy when he has free time. No matter how many times you smack him and send him reeling, he always comes back with a bone clamped between his teeth, looking for fun.

A drink, a fuck. A fight. Maybe it's all sort of the same to him.

Your fight is a dance; Childe is undeniably skilled, and polearms aren't your first choice of weapon, so it's a fairly even fight despite your strength. Several times he moves far too quickly for you to comprehend—like you blink and he's shifted with the moonlight, gone from in front to behind you in a second. Laughing, poking, teasing until your blood is boiling despite the cold.

When you finally land a hit on him, it's sweet. Your staff cracks across his jaw with all the force of his annoyance to you over the last months, and Childe barely has time to widen his eyes before he crashes to the dirt. He lets out a pained grunt as he plants into the earth, and just as you're opening your mouth to gloat—

"Again."

It cracks into the night air like the crash of your staff against his jaw, pursed between wheezing breaths. His voice sings like cut piano strings, dissonant against what is happening. You stand over him, breathing hard, brow cinched as he sprawls in the dirt.

He's got chalky soil all over his pretty light uniform. He doesn't seem to care. Dull blue eyes blink up at you, round as pennies; you can see an angry welt raising on his jaw where your blow had made contact, flaring up scarlet against the pale skin. No doubt it will have flowered into a nasty bruise tomorrow, something the colour of overripe lavender melon.

But Childe grins.

You stumble back, frowning hard, and Childe makes a noise at the back of his throat as he sees you retreat. He scrambles messily to his feet, brushing dirt carelessly from his clothes.

"What?"

Childe cradles his jaw with a hiss. "You pack a punch. But I'm not done yet."

"You said again." You eye him warily, arms still not raised. "What did you..."

He huffs a laugh with a return of that boyish grin. "Ah, caught that, did you? I guess you could say I have a certain admiration for people who can land a hit on me. It's impressive. You're impressive."

Before you can decide whether he's swelteringly egotistical or just a pervert who gets off on pain, Childe lunges, swinging his sparring spear overhead; you shriek and parry it last-minute, your grip faltering enough that the wooden shafts collide with a harsh thwack; you don't fend the blow off completely thanks to your shoddy reaction time, but you manage to avoid getting struck in the head.

"Asshole," you grit out, stumbling left a few paces to get your bearings again; Childe circles you, twirling his spear between deft fingers with a sharp grin.

"I sensed your attention wandering," he shrugs. "You think you can hit me again?"

Your chin juts out, indignant. "Yeah. I'm stronger."

Beneath his lurid red hair, Childe's cheeks colour faintly. "Prove it, killer. Lemme feel it. Hit me—"

And he lunges, spear cracking through the air; this time, you're ready for it, seeing the telltale twitches of his body getting into formation before the pounce. You dodge his first hit, sending the tip of his spear sinking into the dirt, and whilst he's distracted with pulling it out you sweep the shaft of your own against the back of his knees. He buckles with a grunt, staggering, and you use his surprise to barrel your full body weight into his side.

He slips into the dirt, head thudding against the packed earth with a dull thud, and in your momentum you follow. By the time he's blinked the stars out of his eyes, your dagger is pressed up against his throat, nestled amongst the pale skin.

He breathes fast and sharp, a distinct contrast to his general collectedness. Your thighs cage his hips, and even from here you can feel his strength; his skin is shot through with sinew and iron. He could reach up, tussle, throw you off, put up a good fight. But he doesn't. He lays limp like a puppet with its strings cut, looking up at you with big, starry eyes—waiting for you to make the next move.

You come to a rather grim hypothesis.

The blunt tip of the dagger encroaches his skin, pushing in hard enough for blood to bead around it. Childe draws in a ragged gasp.

"Gonna kill me?" His tongue flicks out to wet his bottom lip. He says that like it's an act of worship, like carving his throat out with a cinquedea is akin to leaving incense at a shrine for a far-flung god. Like his blood would be spattered amongst the stars if only you spilled it. Your breath catches; you hadn't been ready for the rush of power Childe's perversion would give you. You can feel it nestling under your skin like a heartbeat.

"I think you could, if you wanted," Childe whispers, and then he shudders at the thought, pretty eyes fluttering closed. He looks like he isn't sparing two thoughts to your hand holding a knife to his throat; skin breaks, and blood makes a thin rivulet down his pale skin. "Mm. Maybe I'd—I'd even let you. You could ask real nice."

"You're hardly in a position to be making demands," you murmur, feeling quite frozen. "Why don't you just be quiet for once?"

At once, Childe falls silent.

His bottom lip has split; probably why he was tonguing at it earlier. Now, with nothing to stop it, blood makes a languid trail down the slope of his chin. With your free hand, with the curiosity of a child petting a stray animal for the first time, you swipe at the trail with the pad of your thumb. You track it up to the seam, the cut, the split, press down hard until the surrounding skin of his lip turns white. You can feel the short, hot shocks of his quick breath against the skin of your nail.

The flash of his tongue surprises you, sliding over the bloody pad of your thumb, cleaning up his mess. A dog licking at its own wounds. Your breath catches, but you've never known when you're wading too deep. It's your one weakness as a fighter. You always think you can take more than you can.

So you press deeper. Your thumb sinks into his mouth up to the knuckle, and Childe lets out a faint groan. There's the ghostly scrape of teeth before his lips close over the skin, tongue swirling over the mess of blood and chalky dirt on the blunt tip of the digit.

Somewhere in the back of your head, you register faintly that this is not normal. Your interactions with Childe have been limited, so far, to snarky deadpans, irritable smacks, and the occasional drink. If you have occasionally caught his eyes lingering on the collar of your shirt, or following you when you enter a room soaked in hilichurl gore, you've made no comment. You'd assumed it would fizzle out, anyway. He's Fatui. They're hardly known for staying in one place a significant portion of time—they're dark-dressed ravens, flocking from place to place and bringing suspicion and misery for a while before taking to the sky again.

But Childe is not scoring the horizon. He's in the dirt with your finger in his mouth, and it looks like he's right at home there.

He releases you with a wet pop. Saliva and blood make a diluted trail down to his chin, and his eyes have peeled open again—heavy and half-lidded, blue slate stone, scoring deep into you. Your body feels hot and too full.

He cracks a lazy smile. "Never seen you speechless before, scourge. Does this mean I win?"

And something snaps.

In a fluid movement, you grab both of his wrists and pin them to the ground beside his head. Childe grunts a sound of surprise as your fingers tighten on his wrists, back instinctively arching from the sudden pressure; one of his legs slips in the earth and knocks against your ankle. He blinks up at you, eyes practically bioluminescent in the night.

"You don't look much like a winner," you snarl.

"Depends on your position."

"You're the Tsaritsa's bitch," you spit. "And if not hers, Zhongli's, or was it Signora who was the last one to get one up on you? Really, you've been failing upwards so much lately it's getting hard to keep count."

Childe's eyes narrow, the first glimmer of defiance sparking in the blue. For the first time you feel him throw his weight behind his halfhearted squirming—he raises his hips to try and buck you off, tugs at your grip on his wrists with renewed vigour. His fighting back shouldn't spark something in you—it shouldn't—but you can feel yourself growing excited.

The thing is, you sort of like killing. People don't get into your line of work if they don't. There's something about holding something down and winning through nothing but sheer strength that makes you feel strong, like you've earned a place on this earth. Watching Childe's jaw tick in frustration the longer he goes without unseating you is making all sorts of dangerous ideas brew in your head.

It's just—maybe it's the drink, or the fight, but the world is still pleasantly pretty and still. And Childe looks sort of gorgeous with his brow all scrunched up like that, the hint of icy anger in his eyes, the gritted teeth. His neck is strained in such a way that bares every jut and bone to you, and you can see his pulse fluttering away under the taut skin, the bob of his adam's apple.

You want to bite it.

Some sort of magnetism pulls you down, nosing at the skin of his neck. Childe grunts, half-frustrated and half-confused when he feels your lips brush over his throat. He smells like salt and mead and copper, labour smells, but his skin here is smooth like it's never seen a day of wear.

"What're you—" Childe huffs out, but his mouth drops open with a choked noise when you seal your teeth in a ring over his neck and bite down. Not quite enough to hurt, you don't think, just enough to satisfy the weird part of you that's sparking for the urge to maim. "Archons, scourge."

Oh dear. His voice has gone all strangled and weak. You dare to release one of his wrists to cup the back of his neck, holding him still, brushing the feathery down of hair on his nape. Automatically, his free hand flies for you, but it stops short, hovering as if unsure.

You can almost feel him weighing his choices in his mind. He has a hand free, and you're not even looking at him. Even if he can't beat you outright, he'd do alright with the element of surprise. He could definitely knock you spinning and flee before you get your bearings.

You wait. Count the fast thuds of Childe's pulse against his neck. The muscles in his free arm go limp, and he wraps it around your waist to pull you closer.

Figuring you're done pretending, you skim your lips up his neck and jaw before catching his mouth in a hard, bruising kiss. Childe moans, softly, into your mouth, hand clenching hard over the fabric of your waist before sliding under. His fingers span out over the small of your back, worn leather and warm flesh, and you shudder despite yourself.

His lips are chapped, and you can taste blood still oozing from the split in the plush lower one. "Someone's sensitive," you gloat, and he huffs. "Not had time to get laid here?"

"What can I say?" Childe's breezy tone would be more believable it it wasn't coming out so strangled. "Been a busy guy. Don't seem to have time for m-many... simple pleasures."

"You always seemed to find time to annoy me, though," you say darkly.

"Less of a luxury, more of a need," Childe breathes. "You make just the most interesting faces when you're irritated."

"Yeah? That get you all wet?"

Childe laughs weakly. "Scourge, please. I'm but a blushing virgin. You'll burn my poor ears off."

You shoot an obvious glance down to the tent straining against Childe's slacks. "I can well believe that."

He squirms in embarrassment, the tips of his ears lighting up scarlet. His eyes blink up at you, the usual lusterless blue fleeing in wake of reflecting the thousands of stars above you, and he seems to glow from the inside out, for a moment. The coppery blood on his face catches the moonlight.

A tongue flicks out to wet his lips, a dog wetting its snout. "Won't you take pity, scourge?" he pleads. "You got me well and truly at your mercy. You win. So..."

Before you can stop to consider the ramifications of your actions, your free hand has already scrambled to his belt buckle. Childe's breath catches, eyes widening as he registers your movements as the brass clinks in the silence. For a moment there's nothing but the hasty shuffling of clothing as you shuck Childe's dirt-streaked trousers down his thighs, his hips lifting to assist. There's a small furrow between his brows, his cheeks alight with a blush that makes his freckles sing against his skin.

The skin of his thighs catches, milk-white in the moonlight. Even here, scars have made their home, pink or bruise-dark, crisscrossing over the flesh in railroads. You get his trousers down past his knees before you stop bothering; he's left in dark underclothes, erection so stiff it's pulling the thin fabric taut, and the slit in his shirt that you've always found obscene betrays the quick, shallow bursts of his breath.

His throat flexes when he swallows. "Are you really going to—mmmgh!"

Childe sputters to a halt with a rather embarrassing high-pitched noise as you cup him through his boxers. You roll your palm experimentally over the tip of the tent, and his eyes flutter shut, rolling back against his skull with a pretty, desperate noise. This side of him is so foreign, but so familiar, so obvious, you wonder why you didn't think of it before.

"Ah, fuck," Childe swears, already sounding breathless. With how obvious he's always been, the lazy slide of his eyes, you'd assumed he had at least some experience—but maybe your teasing just a moment ago was a little more on the nose than you'd anticipated. He's unusually sensitive. "Scourge, I don't—"

"Stop calling me that," you mutter, pulling the fabric of his underwear till it strains against his cock, and he swallows back a gasp, spine arching against the dirt. "Did you want something?"

"You're so cruel," he whines. "Y/n, Archons, please—"

"Alright, alright, you big baby," you sigh, shedding his soaked underwear. Childe shudders, thighs tightening under you as he hits the cold air. The strain of his arousal and the chafing fabric is obvious; pre drips eagerly from the reddish tip, and he fits neatly into your palm when you swipe over the leaking hands before wrapping your fingers around him. Childe jolts into the touch, cursing under his breath, and as you start to jerk him off his lashes flutter. His blue eyes roll to the heavens and his head thumps against the earth with a long, shaky moan.

The night fills with noise, somewhere between what you find obscene and what sends heat rushing between your own legs as your fist pumps lazily up his length. Childe is more receptive than you would've put money on, gasping and swearing, hiccuping small, wounded noises in the back of his throat. His brow is scrunched, lips slack and wet with saliva, eyes screwed shut. His hips jump like they have a brain of their own.

You squeeze, prompting a panicked noise; Childe's eyes fly open and find your sly smile. "You look pretty," you tell him. Childe goes scarlet.

"W-wha?" he dredges up intelligently, frowning. "Why'd you—what?"

You find it funny that you've literally got your hand around his cock, but calling him pretty is apparently what crosses the line in flustering him. You cock your head, grinning.

"You don't think?" you coo. "I think you're lovely like this. I never realised how attractive you'd be once you shut your mouth. Maybe I should beat you in a fight more often."

"W-wouldn't complain," Childe pants, still alight with a feverish blush.

"I'm sure," you say noncommitally. "You fucking whore."

Childe moans, loud and shameless, and his free hand flails to scratch his nails down his own skin. "D-don't stop, fuck, don't stop—"

You stare at the scarlet railroads left on the pale skin of his stomach, and with your free hand yank up his shirt to his chest. Childe lets out a startled sound, looking at you with round, surprised eyes. His torso is littered with scars, raised and pale and dark against freckled skin. He is pretty. You love the marks of his exertions and pains, a history of his losses mapped out over his body. One of his nipple has a healed slash running right through it; when you reach up and tweak it, Childe shudders.

"Anyone would think you like losing," you murmur.

Childe looks at you weakly, crying out when your hand resumes at a faster pace. "Like it when—hnn—when it's real. I like it when they don't hold back. 'S why I'm just—hah!—e-enamoured with you, I guess."

"'Cause I'm ruthless?" you quip.

Childe flutters his lashes. "Nice enough to let me come, I hope," he says sweetly, and it makes your cheeks burn momentarily with embarrassment, the brazenness of his statement. "I'm not above begging."

"I liked you better when you were quiet," you mutter, and swipe your thumb hard over the slit. Childe yelps, muscles melting like butter, and when you start rubbing cruelly like you've found some sort of button his face flames, his mouth drops open, and he lets out a wailing noise, legs thrashing.

"Archons," he keens, but with your free hand you seize and handful of his hair and pull, hard.

"No Archons," you snarl. "Just me."

Tears prick at the corners of Childe's eyes as he rolls his hips to meet your unrelenting strokes, whimpering. "Y-yes, yeah, just you, just you, do that again."

You oblige, dig your fingers into the red hair so deep your nails scrape his scalp, and tug. The tears spill over Childe's lashline as he chokes on the moan that bursts from him at the movement.

"Keep it there," he begs, thighs shaking. "Pleasepleaseplease—"

"You close?" you ask innocently. "Already?"

There's no more pretence; the fine line of pleasure and pain seems to have wrought Childe down to only basic instincts, as his hips roll against your hand as you fist his length rough and quick, head tipped right back against the ground, exposing the heaving column of his throat. The toned concave of his stomach flexes with each punched-out breath, the scars coiling and elongating respectively.

"Please," Childe sobs in answer. "I'll be good, be real good, I'm close..."

You surge forward, digging your face into Childe's neck as you speed up your pace, and sink your teeth into the soft skin at the junction of his neck and shoulder. Hard enough for blood to bubble under your lips, hard enough for Childe to let out a strangled scream as he comes all over your hand, spilling over your fingers and his stomach in pearly arcs.

He's panting when you pull back, winces as you dislodge your teeth and unwind your fingers from his hair. He touches the bite mark with a wince and hiss, examining the blood on his fingers with light interest. It really shouldn't surprise or arouse you nearly as much when he dips them into his mouth and licks them clean.

"Degenerate," you tell him. Childe smiles crookedly, the flush on his face still stark red.

"There's this old saying about a pot and a kettle," he says, voice still weak and shaky.

The bite mark is leaking. As he reaches for you, you get the fleeting thought that it will leave another scar to add to his masses, another permanent trophy of another loss.

A loss to you.

And you smile.

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zzthekaiju · 2 months

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So, Godzilla X Mothra as a Monsterverse movie, hmm...

Well, I got a lot of replies to the big comic saying that they’d like to hear my pitch for a GxM movie. So, here you go!

The film should be, at its core, of the romance genre variety. For both the kaiju and the human sub-plots. The overarching theme should not only be the Monsterverse’s usual “natural balance” motif, but also that of loving one another despite our differences and flaws, or perhaps because of them.

After all, “If you love a person, you accept the total person. With all the defects. Because those defects are a part of the person.”

Obviously, Godzilla and Mothra are at the center of the kaiju side of the story. Big G is still patrolling for rogue titans while Mothra has made residence in Indonesia. Monarch returns with Madison Russell trying to prove her worth as a part of it. However, not only is her stubborn attitude grating on everyone, but her head is in a whirlwind because of Mothra’s newest ambassador: A good-natured and pacifistic young lady her age native to where the big bug titan lives. She and this newcomer (we’ll call her Lora for simplicity’s sake) are a mirror to Godzilla and Mothra. Also, Bernie and Trapper should return because there was NO way they weren’t having eyes for each other in the last movie.

As for our two kaiju, their relationship hits a snag when a new titan shows up with an uncanny resemblance to Mothra. And yes, this will be the Monsterverse’s answer to Battra (we’ll call him that here from now on). Battra is something of an older brother to Mothra, and the two have a very strong connection. Unfortunately, Battra’s way of handling protecting the Earth runs counter to how Godzilla does it (as in, wipe out human settlements and attack titans for the most minor of infractions), and Big G tries to handle it the only way he knows how (ie, beating him to death). But not only is Battra much stronger than he lets on (complete with an ability to control plant life), but Mothra intervenes on her ancestor’s side out of familial loyalty (she’s unaware of Battra killing people at this point), causing the king and queen to come to blows until she and Battra emerge victorious, driving Godzilla away.

This turns out to be a really bad move, as Battra is determined to wipe out humanity, believing them to be a scourge that Mothra foolishly trusted. Mothra doesn’t realize her mistake until Battra wipes out an entire village for the crime of being near a forest. She tries to stop him, but nearly gets killed before retreating.

Monarch’s main goal throughout the film is to reunite Godzilla and Mothra, requiring them to look high and low for clues to how this unique symbiotic relationship came to be. A major stop is the Hollow Earth Iwi tribe, which shows how the two met in the first place, and gives Jia a chance to enter the narrative. As time goes by, Madison and Lora’s relationship goes from “unstoppable force meets immovable object” to them finding common ground, and eventually falling in love. It’s them that enables Monarch to hatch a plan. With the help of Jia, and Madison’s mastery of the ORCA, they set Godzilla and Mothra up to meet again. Of course, they’re all rather surprised to see Godzilla so thoroughly heartbroken and ashamed of himself that he submits to her like any titan would to him. But as Jia translates Mothra’s thoughts, the insect Goddess and her king make up for each other’s faults.

Soon, it’s Godzilla and Mothra vs. Battra. But it’s not easy, as Battra has mastery over the elements, giving him an advantage over Godzilla by summoning giant plants to ensnare and attack him. Mothra gets in a lot of good hits, but in the end, it’s a combination attack from king and queen that destroys Battra’s wings, and reduces him to harmlessness. To show how much he trusts his queen, Godzilla allows him to live and Mothra to decide his fate. She ultimately has him confined to the same place she lives so that he has familial company. It ultimately ends with Godzilla and Mothra resting at the area where they first met, as Monarch watches from a safe distance with Madison and Lora sharing their first kiss. At least one person, probably Bernie, states that it’s the best double date ever.

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

If anyone has other ideas/opinions, feel free to let me know!

#Ramblings #godzilla #kaiju #monsterverse #mothra #mothzilla #godzilla x kong: the new empire

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undiscovered-horizon · 5 months

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Hi, I read a few of your posts and I really liked your writing. May I ask a hcs/drabble/one shot of ONE PIECE with Shanks (and Mihawk if it’s possible) who are in a relationship with a woman who have her own crew and the woman flee away in their sleep, leaving them behind, with her crew after years of relationship? A bit angsty 🙊 and they never found her again, seeing her in newspapers or rumors only.

Thank you if you made it and sorry if It doesn’t suit your blog! Have a nice day <3

At first, he though he read the title wrong. But no matter how many times his eyes glided across the black ink, the newspaper headline said the exact same thing: BLACK TOOTH GRINS: A NEW SCOURGE?

There was a picture attached underneath the title. Part of him thought that maybe the familiarity in the woman’s face was just his longing; a product of a mind too lovesick to hold on to sanity. Alas, this time, too, his senses were not deceiving him.

It is your face. You're alive and well as it seems. Looking exactly the same as the day you had left.

The heartache comes back to him tenfold. Not it has ever left but the pain and anger are now suffocating. So many months have passed when he hasn't heard from you as though you've suddenly ceased to exist. No one has heard about you, no one has seen. How can a whole person just vanish? At some point, he told himself that maybe you've met your end. It was entirely possible.

But nothing has prepared him for this. To realize that he was abandoned by the one he loved.

The anguish slowly fades into numbness like a radio falls silent after piercing ears with static. Everything stands still as he recalls the day some part of him had died:

"Greatest swordsman in the world" is a quite hefty title to carry. It is also quite a hefty title to be overshadowed by. Wherever the two of you showed up, you'd always be perceived as a decoration to Mihawk rather than his partner. Like a pearly white Maltese carried by rich ladies in their purses. Having voiced your concerns, Mihawk knew that you feel in some way inferior to him. He just never thought it was that severe.

He was woken up that night, actually. The sky was still black and starry, morning long hours away. You were getting out of bed and your stirring woke him up. But he quickly went back to sleep when you whispered that you were just going to the bathroom. By all means, it was just another night. Like countless others you've spent together. Nothing unusual.

In the morning, everything was gone. All of your belongings had disappeared as though you had never been on his ship in the first place. Like a ghost he's grown to love had simply become bored of haunting him.

Only one thing, however, suggested that you were not a figment of imagination: a laconic note that vaguely explained the situation. In a few words, you told him that you're tired of being seen as an accessory to someone, a pair of gloves that will be out of season when snow thaws. Knowing that you're more than the Maltese in a purse, you ventured into the wide world to become an infamous name of your own.

Throughout many years, every day has he thought of that night and the morning that followed. What if he hadn't fallen asleep? Was he too calloused to notice how much you've been suffering? Was there something he could have done but decided not to for some reason?

The longer he thought about it, the more he came to the same, heart-wrenching conclusion - he was just abandoned in the middle of the night. Whether it was his hurt pride or respect towards your wishes, he's never gone on an escapade to find you.

As years went by and he hadn't heard from you or about you, Mihawk simply assumed that you'd died. It seemed the most probable. Part of him wanted to take the blame: if he had noticed your pain earlier, had he taken your worries seriously, you wouldn't have left and you wouldn't have died. It was his responsibility to protect you, to ensure that his beloved is safe and sound. Alas, he had failed. Quite utterly at that.

He grew bitter and vicious. What good is his swordsmanship if it failed that one time it could have mattered? What good is he if he was too blind and oblivious to ease your burden?

But all of those painful thoughts disappeared today.

Mihawk tears the newspaper and throws it away. He's grown almost used to the weight of bereavement on his shoulders but now he's absolved of it. One shouldn't grieve someone who is still alive. But contrary to his expectations, he doesn't feel better because of that. In fact, he feels a lot worse. Even if your death had been brought by your own choices, it is not your fault. Your death, however, hasn't occurred as of yet, so the time you've spent building infamy was just time you chose to leave him broken and aching.

He mourned you! Turned his grief and misery into a fury that burned entire towns. He became a shadow of the person he used to be. And for what? To learn that he was disposable to you? That his love for you was less important than your pride and ambitions?

Now that you've made it on the front page with an equally hefty title "A New Scourge", perhaps you're a danger big enough to be hunted down by none other but one of the Warlords. Was it not what you wanted? To be truly someone among pirates?

Oh, he will find you. Even if you told him not to look for you. Mihawk will find you and make you take responsibility for the damage you've done - for the man you've irreversibly changed for the worse; the heart you've forced to turn into stone.

Is it revenge or is it justice? No matter. It is right.

If the butterfly effect is true, Shanks, or rather his tendencies, would be the said butterfly that causes a tornado down the line. He's been known as a man with no commitment and certainly not a devout monogamist. It didn't matter that for a few years he's been exactly that - happily wrapped around the finger of one woman. Most of his men "respectfully" disregarded the relationship status as something temporary.

"Shanks thinks he's in love. Like a thousand times before her."

Which was probably why you've gone years being called a variation of "Shanks's girl". Whether they meant it or not, people around you made sure that you know you're disposable. A fling.

But you never were. Gods above! You never were.

Shanks thought it was quite obvious that he didn't consider you a fling. All the jokes and jabs at his previous love life were just that - meaningless jokes among friends. Even when you explicitly told him that they start to make you uncomfortable and that you want to be taken seriously, the pirate captain never quite took you as seriously as he probably should have. "They're just joking".

The jokes stopped one day and, seemingly, so did Shanks's humour altogether. All of your belongings were gone. You were gone. Nowhere to be found, disappeared like fog on a spring morning. The only thing he had from you was a note, hastily scribbled in the corner of a map lying on his desk as though you were too rushed to take your time to write a proper letter.

He's read that note every day for years. Naively hoping that one day he'll somehow be enlightened as to where you've gone. Maybe one of the letters is strangely pointing towards an island? Or maybe the fact that you've written your message in the North-East of the map was a sign? No matter how many asinine guesses he's made, all of them were wrong. You just... disappeared.

Despite asking him not to look for you, Shanks couldn't help himself. Each village he has visited, he would ask about you. Has anyone seen you? Or heard about you? A few times he thought he had seen you in the crowd, only for the woman to turn out to be a stranger vaguely fitting your description. But this investigation, too, proved to be in vain. For better or worse, it seemed as though you had never existed in the first place.

To put things simply, Shanks had given up. If no one across the seas had seen you or heard about you, it seemed the most probable that you'd met your end. Somewhere far away, among unfamiliar waters and surrounded by strangers. Were you in pain? Were you afraid? Did you wish he could have been there? Or maybe you thought-

No. He shouldn't be thinking like that.

Shanks is locked in his cabin. If his crewmates believed he had an alcohol problem after you disappeared, their captain's state right now would be "alcohol catastrophe". He hasn't been sober since he saw the newspaper.

At first, he was excited, yes! You were alive and well! But then the realization set in: you've left in the middle of the night, asked him not to look for you and never once reached out to him. Telling him that you don't love him anymore would have hurt incomparably less.

He's sitting on the floor. His clothes reek but he doesn't care about that. A shaking hand has trouble lifting another bottle of strong alcohol. The front page of the newspaper with your face on it is lying in front of him. He's just blankly staring at it, letting tears fall down his cheeks.

Among the darkness of the room, there's just him, the bottle and the dull, unbearable ache in his chest.

Shanks wishes to find you. To ask what in the Hell you were thinking. Then ask what he can do to have you back with him. But beware, as whatever you demand he will do. Even if it costs him his other hand.

That is, if his liver won't kill him first.

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bonefall · 4 months

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I like both ideas, bc it provides an opportunity for the Dark Forest to evolve in some way; I really like the idea of Curl taking lead and trying to make the Dark Forest cats united (not for any real GOAL, but bc they're still clan cats dammit, and separated in little pockets they'll never be able to grow).

The camp one is kinda obvious- it was a place of horror, but they need a place to stay. She never came too close to the place until she realized that if she wanted to unite the cats into a group, they needed a camp. And Starclan (she hisses at the irony) knows she'll never do it on her own. She enters, and it terrifies her- before she knows it shes backing away and fleeing. Over time though, she makes it further in, stays a bit longer. She finds the dens are still pretty decent, and that her heart feels a lot lighter as she rips down and destroys the cage. She's elated to find hierloom tools in the camp eventually- some are broken, but can be fixed. She purrs as she thinks how happy Darkstripe would be to have some proper cooking tools. This was a place of fear and death, yes, but it doesn't always have to be that way, does it?

The dogs less so but hear me out. At first she is haunted by the dogs, downright terrified- the gnashing of teeth, the frenzied barks. It's not even anything she can think or dwell on; as soon as she hears the howling and barking, she's immediately running away, fleeing as far as her paws take her. She knows she'll never actually die here, but she's still so, so scared. Maybe she comes to the conclusion on her own, or maybe someone else points it out, but eventually she realizes what you mentioned. She saved her CHILD- she should be PROUD, not scared. This is her greatest moment- her death an irrelevant footnote compared to her baby's life. Idk *exactly* how it should go, but she confronts her fear, and manages to 'tame' it. She is no longer afraid, this illusion holds no power over her. Either they fade away and just stop existing without Curl's fear to feed it, maybe they turn docile and harmless, idk. No matter what though, i have a feeling that something like THAT will catch the eye of some DF cats, sorta like a Tiny to Scourge deal. "She got rid of her land mar" into "She destroyed the land mar" to "She KILLED her land mar"- even the first one has to gain her some respect frok the others, and gives her a solid footing to try and get cats together and united.

Ask was sent a while ago, and I've been looking at it since then. It's a really good pitch, and I had things to do, so I just passively chewed it for a while. Both ideas are really good; so I was trying to think of some way to get them together.

I think I've got a good thought now;

I'll make Curlfeather's Land Mar dog related.

But they're not the same dogs that actually attacked her (which, depending on how the arc goes, might ACTUALLY be apparitions from the Dark Forest which Ashfur dragged out for his schemes. Specifically they'd be Brightheart's nightmares.)

Curlfeather's Hounds are blind. They hunt completely through "smell," and they smell her fear

I can keep her Land Mar being quite unique by actually having it follow her. Instead of it being a place she's trapped in, she's haunted by random dog events which will inevitably interrupt any plans she makes.

So she's perpetually close to making the group that she wants, uniting these demons just because it's what she deserves, but she is forced to flee when her hounds find her.

The camp she ends up using doesn't have to be her OWN Land Mar; I have another cat who actually has a 1:1 camp as theirs.

Morningstar, the deposed leader of ThunderClan who refused to allow his cats to fight. His is simply his camp, on the day where Pearstar invented the Right to Challenge and killed him for his position.

Morningstar's also HATED in the Dark Forest, because of his pacifism. Thinking about it, it's actually a great parallel for what I'm planning with Curlfeather!

She has disdain for her father because she sees him as weak. Reedwhisker swearing loyalty to The Kin after being tortured was her catalyst for believing he needed to die; that RiverClan would have a sniveling, careless leader.

So if it's Morningstar she ends up developing a bond with, they can help each other.

Morningstar can make her realize that her terrifying death by the dogs is something she can be proud of. That it isn't something to fear and revile, but a sign that when she was forced to choose between love and ambition, she chose love.

And Curlfeather can see that maybe people like Morningstar, who she'd always seen as weak, have wisdom she'd never considered. Uniting these cats isn't about power or recognition; it's just about helping to make everyone's lives better.

I can even keep the "empty camp" idea. Stepping into Morningstar's gloomy Land Mar, setting a little fire just to help with the mist, and realizing it's not all that bad. There's old tools laying strewn about, the dens are all in working order. We can make a proper home here, if we let it be.

There's probably a cage there because of Ashfur, maybe it's the one that he made the demons toss Rootspring into. Maybe I'll have the demons eventually trick Curlfeather's Sighthounds into Deadfrost's Labyrinth, if Shredtail's still around. He double-died in canon but I wouldn't be too opposed to killing someone else in his stead.

She'll also have to prove herself to the other demons. Most of them are pretty wary of "leader-types" after what happened with Tigerstar. Ironically the closest thing they have to a "leader" is Darkstripe because his soups are so good. If he doesn't like your vibe, you're cut off from the "Social Circle."

I need to make some sort of pun out of Rings of Hell and Social Circle. Social Ring of Hell.

#As opposed to the ''Alpha Baboons'' which I can't stop calling them in my head #the Alpha Baboons were the Tigerstar-supporters who made life in the DF unpleasant with their schemes and desire to haunt and attack--#the living so they could dethrone or threaten starclan #I call them the Alpha Baboons because. Just like the case study of the alpha baboons who were bullies and ate poison trash and died.--#--life got better in Hell after their double-deaths in the BOTTE.#There's a few Alpha Baboons still around but their number is smaller than Darkstripe's Social Ring.#So the gentler demons will be wary of Curlfeather until her intentions and personality is better known #BB!Dark Forest #Better Bones AU #BB!ASC #BB!Curlfeather #BB!Morningstar

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chaoticrushu · 10 months

Text

God everything about Lisa is so tragic. Her trigger event, being forced into villainy by Coil, her desperate attempts to find out as much as she can to prevent the end of the world, and her whole relationship with Taylor.

She sees Taylor for the first time and immediately knows she's passively suicidal. She can't let that go, if course she can't, she can't let another Rex happen. So she reaches out, she invites Taylor to join the Undersiders, knowing the whole time Taylor's lying from the start. She gives her a friends/family/a support group, desperately hoping to give Taylor a reason to live. She takes her shopping, hoping to boost Taylor's confidence in herself. She pushes Taylor to go out with Brian, because she knows Brian has the same feelings, and she thinks it'll both help Taylor feel more tied to the group and help make her happier.

And it kinda works. Taylor gains confidence, she's stronger, she's happier.

"I'm sorry," Lisa put her hand on my shoulder. I felt grateful that she wasn’t pulling away or laughing. It was the first time I’d ever really talked about it, and I wasn’t sure I could’ve dealt if she had.

Shell 4.3

It kind of surprised me, but I realized what I was saying was true, so I didn’t even need to worry about tipping Lisa off. A second later, I realized I might have been a little presumptuous.

"I mean, assuming that we are frien—"

"If you finish that sentence,” Lisa warned me, "I'm going to slap you across the head." I felt the heat of a flush in my cheeks and ears. "Yes, Taylor, we’re friends," Brian said.

Shell 4.3

"I don’t know how to say this gracefully," I said. I paused, noting the presence of a hero nearby who’d raised a camera towards me. Whatever, I’d say it anyways. "But you guys mean a lot to me. I’m sorry I didn’t say it before, but I couldn’t without letting on that something was going on. You’re my family, in a way. As lame as it might be, I love you guys."

Drone 23.5

"I know," Grace said, after a pause. "I get that. I get that there’s other reasons. Like the fact that you love those guys and you never loved us. Cool. Makes sense."

"I liked you guys."

"But you didn’t love us.”

"No," I said.

Venom 29.1

By Arc 19, Lisa's sure she succeeded. She averted another Rex, she saved Taylor. Even with how self destructive Taylor is, pushing herself so hard towards a goal, first saving Dinah then saving everyone, throwing herself in dangerous situations one after another, she's in a better state than she was before. But is Lisa?

Taylor and Lisa have somewhat of a distant emotional connection. As much as Lisa has helped Taylor, Taylor can't really do the same to Lisa. Because even when she isn't wearing a mask in a literal sense. she's always wearing one metaphorically, one that she almost never lets slip. So as much as Taylor loves Lisa, she doesn't really know Lisa. She can't. Lisa's given Taylor a support system, but she herself doesn't have one.

"Except you’ve been talking to the heroes, and you’ve had that to help center yourself, figure out where you stand," Tattletale said. "I haven't."

"That’s it? You need to talk to someone?"

"No. That’s not what I’m saying," she said. She sighed. "Yes. Kind of. It’s only part of it. Who the hell am I going to talk to that grasps things on a level I do? Do you really expect me to find a therapist and sit down and not pick him apart faster than he can decipher me?"

"You could talk to me ," I said. "Not when you’re part of the problem, part of what I’d need to work past."

"That’s not fair," I told her.

"No, it isn’t," she admitted."

Scourge 19.7

And that disconnect shows in Taylor's pov. Even in Taylor's head, Lisa is so often thought of as Tattletale, not Lisa. Even as she's eviscerating Taylor on personal level in 30.1, she's still Tattletale, not Lisa. Rachel is almost always Rachel more than Bitch, and I'm pretty sure Aisha is Aisha'd as much as she's Imp'd.

Later in the same chapter, she explains herself, her first time in the whole book being genuine and letting herself be vulnerable.

Me? When you shot Coil, I realized I was done. I’d helped you out of the same trap of despair Rex had been in. Don’t know if the road I helped you down was a good one or a bad, but I’d finished."

"But why be reckless? Why take the risks?"

"Because I did what I had to do, I helped you, and I still feel like the stupid, self-obsessed little child that let her big brother die. It wasn’t conscious, but maybe I felt like I needed to up the stakes. Pull something dramatic. Show that, with these crazy smart capes like Alexandria and Faultline around, I could still be the smartest person in the room."

Scourge 19.7

She's finished her project, she's saved Taylor, whether for good or ill. She's freed herself of Coil. And it didn't fix her; She still bears all that guilt over Rex. Maybe, given time, Taylor could have helped Lisa, returned the favour. But they never had the time, because so soon after this, Taylor is outed, and things escalate, and Taylor is gone. I can't imagine what that did to Lisa, but it I'd guess that it means that her one true friend, probably the only person who even comes close to understanding her, is gone. Of course, she keeps in touch. But the letter she sends, its so impersonal, naught more than a status report. Whereas Brian and Rachel's are emotional and personal, confessions of their feelings. (I love Taylor and Rachel's relationship so much, but that's not the point here.) And when they meet all meet back up before Behemoth, the only thing she says to Taylor is asking her to survive. I think that even though she said she felt like she'd succeeded fixing Taylor, she was still doubting. Taylor is Taylor, I don't think she ever really could have been saved just by who she is. And Lisa could probably tell.

With a touch more seriousness, Tattletale said, "No dying, okay, Skitter?"

"Weaver," I corrected.

"Skitter," she said. "Here, today, you’re Skitter. Consider it a good luck charm. And no dying . I’ll say it as many times as it takes, until it gets through to you."

...

“Just remember,” Tattletale called out, “You’re officially Skitter today. Don’t be a hero. No point to all this shit if you do something brave and get yourself killed.”

Drone 23.5

And it all leads to Khepri. Taylor ruining herself, letting someone alter her brain to such an extent in a desperation to beat Scion. And it kills Lisa

"You couldn’t have made it easy?” Tattletale asked, looking down at it. “Because standing by while you do this… that’s fucking hard . It’s honestly easier if I’m on their side and I’m helping them stop you. If I can blame the fuck-up job Panacea did to your head."

"While I’m saying all this, kiddo, you gotta know I love you. I adore you, warts and all. You saved me, as much as I like to think I saved you. All this stuff I’m bitching about, it’s the same stuff that got us through some pretty hairy shit, and I love you for it as much as I groan about it. You’re brilliant and you’re reckless and you care too much about people in general when I really wish you’d leave things well enough alone and be selfish. But this?"

"Shit ," Tattletale said. "You gotta forgive me, just this once. Because seeing this and knowing what you pulled hurts enough that I gotta say this. This makes me feel really sorry for your dad, because I’m starting to get a sense of what you put him through.

Speck 30.1

Like, god. The tragedy of loving Taylor Hebert, a stubborn, persistent, unyielding person, one who doesn't value herself but will give everything to fight for her friends. For all that Lisa could try and do to save her, for all the happiness she could try and give her, it didn't work. Taylor becomes Khepri, and she loses her forever. I'm don't even know if Lisa knows what happened to Taylor, that she's on another earth, safe with the opportunity for genuine happiness without all the crises, able to be a regular person. Or does she assume Taylor died, maybe at the hands of a cape traumatised and angry and being mind controlled, maybe because of her own shard destroying her?

Does she ever regret trying to fix Taylor? Does she ever think back on it and wonder if Taylor would be better off if she hadn't guided her into villainy?

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catcake24 · 11 days

Text

Okay so I have barely watched Earthspark due to ADHD but already have an au idea.

You know how in some continuities earth is implied or even stated to be Unicron??? What if… what if Unicron’s energy gave life to the Terrans??

He’s been asleep for thousands of years, awakening to find his body trapped and Primus’ creations having the nerve to live on the crust surrounding his body. This infuriates him, but all he can do is wait and bide his time… spreading his dark energon through the planet and waiting for the perfect moment… he has Scourge on speed dial, telling him to observe for the perfect moment…

But then, the most unexpected thing happens - his energon, diluted but still his dark energy, is combined with an artifact of Primus and creates the Terrans (I was spoiled on how the Terrans came to be somewhat, with some kind of Prime Artifact, but I’m not done the series yet so I don’t know much lol).

Now you might think Unicron wouldn’t care, or feel resentment to these two new dark sparks, but it’s quite the opposite. He had never created anything before, hadn’t felt the connection to another cybertronian being in millenia, and now he has two new creations. It’s not quite like a parental bond, but something almost unknowable to mortals - a feeling of connection and pride over them. He sees how they forge themselves, how they defy what they’re told, creating chaos in their own way, and he is nothing but delighted, especially as more come into existence with his own energy flowing through them and feeling more connections.

Meanwhile, the series mostly goes over as normal for awhile. The Terrans are completely unaware of Unicron or anything being weird with them, but there are some early signs

The Terrans energon in their lines is dark purple, the colour of dark energon. They can drink normal energon, as their systems basically just process it into dark energon, but this means their “blood” is a really weird colour when the other bots see it.

Anything related to Primus or the Primes (which channel his power) directly either has no effect or actively hurts them, whichever makes more sense in the series.

Their coding is actively evolving and isn’t set in stone, which follows the theme of chaos and evolution with Unicron, which is why they act a lot more like kids in the series. Normal Cybertronians usually grow up much quicker, their coding staying somewhat static when they emerge, since they are born almost fully cooked.

Eventually though, probably post series when there are more Terrans I have no idea about, Unicron wants to meet his creations. He could call Scourge, but he doesn’t trust him to handle it delicately, so he goes with a… different approach.

The Terrans start hearing a deep voice in their heads, calling them to somewhere. At first it’s ignored, then when they tell the others they try to see if someone is tampering with the Terrans, but eventually the call gets too strong to resist and they are basically going on a road trip against their will, their sparks being pulled by some invisible force that isn’t effecting the others.

Eventually, they are pulled into a cave system that eventually goes deep enough they enter Unicron, and it’s all revealed when Scourge emerges and fights the Cybertronian bots but then backs off when the Terrans go to help them defend themselves. Scourge is the one to bring them all to Unicron’s spark chamber, and then… Unicron has a little talk with them and fawns over his creations.

Optimus’ reaction? “Primus he’s just like Primus with his creations. How is the un-maker so… not evil?”

Yeah the twist, which has been obvious for awhile, is that Unicron isn’t evil here. He’s a representation of destruction and Chaos, but he’s been villainized by Primus’ creations since he had, what he calls, a “brotherly spat” with Primus. It’s turns out, Unicron’s job is to basically destroy things to make more room for Primus to create. However, due to some kind of interference or whatever they both ended up fighting then going dormant. They can’t exist without one another, which is why when Primus became a planet Unicron had to as well. Now, Unicron is very very happy to have his own creations and extensions of his will like Primus did - Unicron wanted creations of his own but his dark energon could only corrupt Cybertronians until now.

Everyone’s reactions from here require more knowledge about the series than I currently posses, so that’s all for now lol

#tranformers Earthspark #Earthspark #tf earthspark #TFE au #maccadam #transformers Earthspark AU #tf au #transformers au #Unicron is earth #Unicron #cringe #Unicron Terrans AU

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god-complex-12 · 1 year

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Can i request, "No just...I can't believe you're wearing my clothes." And "You are my love" with Marc from Moonknight.

My Love

— Paring; Marc Spector x male reader. Fandom; Marvel/Moon Knight.

Prompt; “No, I just… I can’t believe you’re wearing my clothes.” & “You are my love.”

Description; Marc has no place to stay so he calls up the only person he truly trusts. Disclaimer; Reader and Marc are not dating. Talks of pain. Confession.

Word Count: 1.5k

Masterlist

A/N: I changed my layout, is this better or worse? Also, I took the prompts and morphed it into a little confession story. Thank you for your request and thank you for using two of my prompts.

Y/N tiredly slumped in his office chair. His head and gaze descended to the side; looking out the floor to roof windows that took up the wall to his right. He mindlessly watched the birds flee from one rooftop to another. The sun was setting, so he couldn’t see too much. He purposely let his mind drift; trying to find any excuse to not do the pile of work on his wooden desk. His hand ached for a break, and he was gonna give it that.

Y/N zoned out at a nearby apartment balcony. The railing was laced with vines and various plants dripping down the side. A cat walked along the metal pole. He, from what he could see from the distance he was at, assumed it was a Japanese Bobtail.

Y/N’s attention was urged to his screaming phone on the desk. It rang throughout the quiet room; loudly vibrating against the desk. Y/N looked at the name: “Marcus”.

Y/N subconsciously smiled. His hand raced to the phone — answering it, and putting it to his ear. He straightened up his posture — his mood immediately brightened.

“Hey, Marcus. What do you need?” He asked cheerfully.

He heard a groan of annoyance on the other line. “It’s Marc. Not Marc as in short for Marcus: Marc as in just Marc. Stop calling me that.”

Y/N chuckled. “What do you need, Marc?” He corrected himself.

He heard the merc hesitate. “Would it be okay if I stayed at your place for tonight?” He asked.

Y/N hastily nodded. He felt stupid when he realized Marc couldn’t see him. “Yeah. I’m not home right now, but I will be. That pad code is 7294.” Y/N said.

“Thank you.” Marc thoughtfully spoke.

Y/N hummed in agreement. “Text me when you get there safe.”

“I will.” The call ended, and Y/N happily placed his phone back on his desk.

Y/N was more than motivated to get back to work now; wanting to get home as soon as possible. He wrote for another 40 minutes before the pain in his hand became unbearable. He made a notice of his leave before rushing out the building door.

—

Y/N entered his dimly lit home. The light from the lamp illuminated the main room; the yellow luminescence gave the room a warm feel. It was night time, but it wasn’t late.

“Marc?” Y/N called out. He was met with no response.

He stalked through the house, making his way to his cracked open door. He peeked into the room and saw Marc laying in his bed. Y/N pillow was enveloped in the merc’s arms. Y/N laughed quietly before heading off to the kitchen.

At the thought of food, Y/N’s stomach grumbled. He didn’t notice how hungry he actually was until now. He scourged through the cabinets for ingredients. He thought long and hard about what his guest would like. He didn’t want to cook a meal and Marc not like it.

He quickly decided, prepping the stove and utensils. He mindlessly began cooking. As he worked, he felt that growing pain circulate in his palm. He ignored it to the best of his abilities.

It took a surprisingly short amount of time for Y/N to finish cooking. He heard light footsteps behind him, and a quiet sigh.

“What’re you cooking?” The Chicago laced accent made Y/N smile.

“Hope you like hamburgers.” Y/N called out. “I don’t know what you like, so I chose a classic and hoped for the best.” He then turned to face Marc.

“Good strategy.”

Y/N’s eyes were widened in shock. He didn’t say anything, but his mouth slightly stuttered, opening and shutting in hesitation as he took in Marc’s appearance.

“What?” Marc asked the gawking man.

Y/N gestured to the man’s whole body. Marc instinctively looked at himself, and it all clicked. He was in Y/N’s clothes. Slight embarrassment flooded him as he stammered to explain himself.

“Oh, yeah, I really needed to take a shower and I didn’t have any clean clothes. I can take it off if you want.” Marc tried to reason.

“No, I just… I can’t believe you’re wearing my clothes.” Y/N said. An awkward silence enveloped the room. “Not- not in, like, a weird way, it’s just- I’m gonna shut up. What do you like on your burgers?”

“Whatever you have to offer.” Marc said hastily. He quickly sat at the kitchen island while Y/N went back to work.

When Y/N was finished, he slid both of their plates to where Marc was seated. Y/N cringed at the pain in his hand again.

“This is a big ass burger.” Marc said.

Y/N chuckled, getting both of them water. “I was hungry.” He explained. He picked up both of the glasses, and Y/N’s entire hand was overcome with pain. He dropped the glass in his dominant hand and then the class in his other to comfort his weeping hand. Both glasses shattered against the ground; shards and water painted the floor.

“Shit.” He cursed. “I’m so sorry.” He apologized

“Are you okay?” Marc asked, shooting up from his seat to assist the hurting man.

“Yeah, it’s my hand.” Y/N tried to explain.

Marc grabbed Y/N’s, hand pulling it closer to look at it. “Is it cramping?”

“Yeah, but it’s fine.” Y/N tried to take his hand back, but Marc’s hold stopped him.

“Let me help.” He began gently kneading the man’s palm.

Y/N got slightly lost in the sinsation. He wasn’t used to Marc being this close, let alone, touching him in such a caring way. He memorized the feeling. His hands were comfortingly warm but rough. His hands have been worn down.

“How does that feel?” Y/N didn’t comprehend the words. His mind was focused on the two hands clasped around his.

“Y/N?” Y/N met Marc’s eyes. He said nothing. His gaze was soft and thoughtless.

Marc’s held confusion and comfort, wondering why there wasn’t a single thought behind the man’s eyes. Marc’s hands stopped, now only holding the other’s hand. “Is your hand feeling better?”

Y/N snapped out whatever trance had a grasp on his conscience, and frantically nodded his head. “Yes, yeah. Thank you.” He pulled his hand away, stretching his hand for any pain. “That’s great. Painless. No pain. Awesome. Thank you.” He nervously rambled.

Y/N looked at the mess at his feet. “I’ll clean this up and get you a new glass.”

“I can get the drinks.” He followed where he had watched Y/N get the drinks.

“Thank you.” Y/N awkwardly mumbled as he scurried off to get the broom.

Marc carefully prepared the drinks while Y/N cleaned up his mess. He threw away all the broken pieces and sat down next to Marc.

“So why did you choose me?” Y/N asked.

“Hm?”

“Like why did you choose to stay with me? Why not a lover?”

“A lover?” Marc questioned.

“Yeah. Don’t you have a lover?”

“Y/N, you are my love. You’re everything I got. I needed a place to stay, I can’t go home just yet.” Marc explained.

“I’m sorry. What was that first part?” Y/N questioned.

“‘You are my love’?”

Y/N grinned. “Marcus, you dog. Are you confessing to me?”

Marc gave Y/N a shocked look. “I thought I made it obvious! I don’t just massage random people’s hands.”

“You’re not very good at showing it. Marc, you do realize, you’re a very closed off person. Via physical and mental emotions. It’s hard for people to read you, which, granted, could be a good thing if I were your enemy.” Y/N said with a chuckle.

Marc chuckled along with him. “Yeah. I guess, I didn’t think about that.” Marc stopped for a moment. “So did I just out myself?”

“Yeah, a little bit, but that's okay because, in the great words of you, ‘you are my love’ too.” Y/N said. “I don’t just let any random person massage my hand.” He joked.

Marc chuckled. “Well, what does that make of us?”

“How about we go on a few dates and then we decide?”

Marc nodded. “Can this be the first one?”

“If you want.”

“Do you think we could end this date with a kiss?”

Y/N chuckled. “I’ve never seen you act like this.”

“Is that a ‘no’?”

Y/N’s hand grabbed the side of Marc’s neck, making him look at him. Y/N shook his head before pulling Marc for a kiss.

“I could never say ‘no’ to that.”

—

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justagirlfr · 1 month

Text

One Teardrop From My Eye

Noah Diaz x reader

summary: pt 2 of Just One More Tear To Cry - reader is saved from the Terrorcons :D

tw: blood, slight gore, a little bit of angst, electrocution

a/n: this one is so badly written but ty to the 2 people who asked for a part 2, love u guys !!

Your screams of agony fill the room as the electrocution finally stops. Nightwing is looking at you menacingly, armed with a malicious smile and terrible intentions. Body arching and burning, you slump forward on the ground, gasping for breath. You don't even have the strength to shudder as Scourge's underling runs its claws along your chin and forces you up to look.

"This doesn't have to continue," Nightwing snarls. "You know what I want."

You groan achingly. "I don't know- where it- where it is," you huff. "I'm telling the truth…" you utter weakly, Nightwing's sharp fingers tightening around your chin and drawing blood.

Scourge lets out an angry growl, overlooking the vast Peruvian jungle from atop a cliff. It was night now. You had been captured and taken when trying to escape with Noah out of the Maximals' hidden underground temple. In a daze, Scourge's spider-like minion captured you and brought you back here when the Terrorcons lost the rest of the Autobots and Noah.

"That's alright," he says. His tone of voice is cold and unforgiving. "I have another use for you in mind."

—

Mirage tucks Noah in and bids him goodnight, telling him that they'll find you soon. You'll be okay, everything will turn out fine, and he'll get to hold you in his arms once again. That is the future he so desperately prays for.

Noah finds that he is unable to sleep. Anxiety around whether or not you are still alive haunts him throughout the hours, and he tosses and turns underneath his wigwam, willing himself to fall asleep. When morning comes, Noah is tired, worried, and borderline depressed.

The events that ensue are as follows: Everyone discovers Airazor to be infected, and the Terrorcons have been alerted to their location amongst the tribe of Peruvians who are protecting the other half of the time warp key. In an effort to keep it safe, the Autobots tell Noah to take the key and run. He heads to a nearby river, thinking of destroying it but he finds that he can't bring himself to do it. The key may be the only way to get you back, and although all he wants to do is keep his planet and family safe, he has come to realize that you are a large part of his inner circle now, and there’s no way he’ll live in any universe without you.

Unluckily for him and the rest of the Autobots, an infected Airazor steals the key

and brings it back to Scourge.

“And if you think about coming after us,” Scourge snarls. “Remember who we have.”

Nightwing soars above them, dangling your limp figure for all to see. Noah lets out an angry scream and runs as fast as he can to attack Scourge, but Mirage pulls him back. Noah is screaming your name, but you’re unable to respond, being seemingly unconscious.

For a while, Noah is crumpled on the ground, heaving sobs. That is, until Kris reminds him of who he really is.

“Sonic? Sonic is that you?” Noah can hear the familiar way his little brother’s voice crackles through the walkie-talkie attached to Mirage’s arm. “Come in, Sonic.”

“Tails! Tails it’s me,” Noah’s heart warms. “How’s Ma, man?”

“She’s good, she’s worried about you,” Kris says from the other end. “But I got her. Have you saved Earth yet?”

Noah sighs. “We’re…” his voice trails off. He doesn't know what to say. He wants to tell his brother, more than anything, that they’ve got it under control. That he’ll never have to worry about the end of the world nearing again, that everything will turn out alright and that life will be perfect from here on out. But he can’t bring himself to say it, not with you gone from his side.

“Sonic? Listen man.” Mirage brings the device closer to Noah’s face so he can hear better. “I don’t care if times are tough, you’re my brother and you always know how to get yourself out of things. You got me? I don’t want to hear no giving up on your end, Sonic.”

Noah smiles through his tears. “But what if I’m not made for this kinda stuff. I couldn’t even get you help at the hospital.”

“Superman had trouble before he became a hero too. He had to get through some of the stuff, you know? But you’ve gotten past that. Now all that’s left is to be the hero.” He feels himself lighting up a little at Kris’s words. “You read me, Sonic?”

“Yeah, yeah I read you. Thanks man. Love you.”

“Yeah yeah, now go back and save the rest of the world.”

“You got it man.” With that, the line clicks off and Noah knows Kris is gone for now. But the conversation ignites something in him, and within the next few minutes he starts coming up with a plan.

–

Scourge has Nightwing electrocute you a few more times to make sure you’re too weak to get away. He places you on the ground in front of him, watching out for any sign of the Autobots. As soon as Optimus Prime rolls in, he knows he’s the one with the high ground.

“Optimus,” he says, an unwelcome greeting.

“Scourge,” Prime responds. “Hand over the keys. I won’t ask a second time.”

“For someone with such prestige, you sure are blind to the circumstances at which you make demands.” He smiles. It’s a horrendously ugly smile. Everything about Scourge is disgusting, from the way the metal on him rusts, to how crusty his eyes are (I’m a Scourge hater, he killed my beloved Mirage). Scourge picks you up in one hand and squeezes you hard enough to make you gasp for air. “Thought you cared a little more for your human pets.” He laughs darkly.

From below, Noah scurries down the underground passageway, hoping to shut off the portal and take the keys. He holds his breath, listening to the conversation from above. Beads of sweat coat his exposed skin, and he can feel the temperature rise drastically the farther he runs.

“I do.” Is all Optimus says, before Mirage shoots Scourge from behind. Scourge lets out an anguished cry, and you fall from his hand, hitting the ground harshly. Something sticky and warm trails down the side of your head, and you can taste blood in your mouth. Your ears are ringing and everything is spinning. You try to scramble away as the fighting behind you ensues.

–

As soon as Noah retrieves the halves of the key and shuts the system down, he runs back out of the passageway. When he sees your dying figure on the ground, a large pool of blood pooling around you, he pushes up on one of the grates and rushes to meet you.

“Oh my gosh,” he cries, looking at how damaged you are. “Stay awake, please, stay awake…” his voice fades in and out as you try to come to terms with the fact that it’s him. It’s really him.

“Noah?” your voice is hoarse from all the screaming you did earlier when the Terrorcons were interrogating you.

Noah holds both of his hands up to your face, looking down at you with a bittersweet smile. “We gotta get you out of here-”

He’s the last thing you see and hear before you fully black out.

–

When you next awake, you’re lying down in a cosy bed. The sheets are navy blue, and when you look around there are all sorts of parts lying everywhere. A barely working boxy television sits on the cluttered desk to the left of you, and the door in front of you is creaked open just enough where you can make out a source of light and some gentle talking. You look out the window and notice that it’s night. With a heavy groan, you try to get up, but it hurts your head way too much, and you’re forced to lie back down. The door opens and Noah comes in urgently. His eyes are wide open. He’s dressed in a tank top and just his boxers. “Oh my god,” he says, rushing to your side immediately. You smile weakly at him. “The doctor said not to stress yourself too much when you wake-”

You interrupt him by pulling him into a chaste kiss. Surprised, it takes him a moment to kiss back. When the two of you part, he’s breathless. There are tears in his eyes, too. “I missed you,” you rasp. “I missed you so much.”

Noah’s vision is blurred with tears, and he wipes them away, not wanting his view of you to be obstructed in any way. “I missed you too.”

He comes into bed with you, holding you against his chest. From off the desk, he feeds you small sips of water. Afterwards, he starts talking about everything that happened after. How the Prime killed Scourge, how Mirage almost died but was fixed by Noah just a few days ago, how he had taken you to the hospital and moved you back to his room, where his mom was happy to make accommodations, how his little brother had been so happy to see him back, and how he was happy he had you back. He cradles you in his arms.

—

~Bonus ~

You awake in the middle of the night, screaming and thrashing violently against arms trying to pin you down.

“Hey! Hey it’s me, it’s Noah! It’s Noah!” You stop abruptly and open your eyes, sobbing.

“Noah…?”

“Come here,” he whispers, putting his arms around you and bringing you close to his chest. “You’re alright. You’re safe.”

In between sobs, you manage, “I thought- I thought I was back there with them again.”

“I would never let that happen again. Ever.” He kisses your forehead gently, and lays the both of you back down on his bed. “It’s okay,” he coos as you continue to cry into him.

He pulls the covers over the two of you and listens to you cry yourself to sleep in his arms.

#noah diaz x reader #noah diaz #fanfic #rotb mirage #transformers rotb #x reader #little angst #transformers #tf rotb

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istadris · 11 months

Text

I’m back with another Mario Movie AU, because apparently I can’t stop.

(It’s not really intended as a Bowuigi / Bowsario / Powser scenario, but if you want to read it that way, be my guest and go wild with your ideas).

Luigi gets captured and taken to Bowser, you know the drill. BUT. Two details make a big difference from canon :

Luigi, who’s been in a Hobbit bingewatch recently, manages to take a leaf out of the “surviving the huge murderous dragon by stroking their ego” book and starts complimenting and praising Bowser, whose reputation spreads beyond this world, he claims. He’s only come here to admire the glory of such a magnificent king, the Terror of the Darklands, the Scourge of the Kingdoms, the King of Monsters (he’s pulling all of this out of what he’s heard and awkwardly guessed so far). How could he not, after everything he’s heard about him ?? And yet the tales pale in comparaison of the real thing. Yes, that’s totally why he’s here. “And that other human with a moustache ?” “ Do you think I know every human being with a moustache wearing an identical outfit with a hat with the letter of his first name on it?! ...Because I don't! That’s just how normal human males look like !!! Are your mask guys related just because they look like each other ??” Bowser, turning towards the Shy Guys: “Are you ?” “No!! Gross, we’re married, Sir!” “A-anyway, I’m sure that human (who has nothing to do with me at all) is here for the same reason as me! To meet you and tell you how much he finds you awesome! Not for your fiancé at all!”

Bowser is dumb enough to believe all of it.

So now Bowser is very happy because not only does he loves sycophants as a general rule, but this one is human! If just his reputation was enough to make human flock to his kingdom, surely Peach will be head over heels for him once she meets him ! Ha! Take that, random Ex-Koopa-Now-Dry-Bones !!

“Told you all I was irresistible! Now she WILL say yes!!!”

But because he wants to hit every single bullet point in human attraction (and not at all because he’s a bit nervous), he’s asking Luigi for his “opinion”. Which, for Luigi, amounts to stand around while Bowser is singing his lungs out and pretends that yes, a human would totally be charmed by this!

“How about a mass ritual sacrifice for our wedding ?”

“Oh god, that’s a thing ???”

“Yes, obviously ! Pure Koopa wedding tradition! Won’t she love it?!”

“mamma mia...”

“What was that ?”

“I MEAN- Yeah that’s. That’s very cool, but how about you go even further ?”

“More victims? I mean, I can scrounge up some forced volunteers in my troops...”

“No!! Erm, how about you manage to win the war without making a single causality ? Any warlord can kill everyone on his path, but you’re THE Bowser! You don’t even need to use your full strength to be respected!”

“...That’s very stupid. And I don’t want to be respected, I want to be feared.”

“Well you didn’t hurt me (very much) and I fear AND respect you very much !”

“Fair point.”

“And if you manage to do that ? That Princess Peach, she’ll swoon straight into your arms!”

BONUS !

In the Rainbow Road battle, instead of falling in the sea, Mario and DK are captured and taken to Bowser (with Luigi present in the throne room).

Bowser is gloating and Mario is ready to fight despite the danger:

“So, human, did you also come here to sing my praises?”

“Oh I’ll sing something alright, you...”

“Brother!!” Luigi starts yelling in Italian, “for ONCE in your life, don’t pick a fight you can’t win and listen to me! Just pretend that the maniac with fire breath is the most amazing guy you’ve ever seen, our lives depend on it!”

“...you amazing, incredible and badass king, I can’t believe I ever tried to fight you!”, Mario quickly plays along to the point of dropping on one knee (but mostly to hide his gagging face).

Bowser immediately turns toward Luigi :

“What did you say?? What was that gibberish ?!”

“Eerrr Magic! Yes! To-to make him admit how much he finds you awesome!”

“You can use magic?!”

“Human magic!! That only works on humans!! Not on Koopas or whatever -not that I would have used it on you, of course, eh ehehe....”

“You can make humans fall in love with me on command ?? That’s even BETTER! Now Peach WILL marry me without any doubt!!”

#super mario bros #mario movie #miscellaneous mario madness #ah my old friend : shenanigans based on misunderstandings and outrageous bluffs #any of you got ideas based on this one please let me know

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crusherthedoctor · 2 months

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I like how Sonic 06’s defenders and their arguments never conform or line up with one another, like each of them has a different interpretation and headcanon to the game’s plot and characters.

Some say the Time Travel works in X way, others say it works in Y way, and so on, even though it’s never outright stated in the game any of this, and their own theories have their share of inconsistencies and holes with what the game shows us. Then there are the ones who say Mephiles is a 400 IQ villain whose actions were all according to his masterful and sadistic plan (despite all the other characters becoming fucking dumbass for all the ass plot to happen), and there are ones who says he’s supposed to be a dumbass and a coward, even though Eggman in the end props him up like a master manipulator who trolled them all, so I’m not exactly sure if the game confirms this view.

There is never a consensus on what exactly is the case on these things and it’s so funny to me. Maybe someone could say that because the story is so complex, deep and masterful, one could draw many interpretations from it. Like, yeah, it’s totally not because everything in the story is poorly explained, established, shown and executed, making everyone have the chance to fill in the gaps with any kind of bullshit the game shows and establishes or even what it doesn’t show and establishes lol.

Surge might have dethroned him as my least favourite Sonic villain of all time (funny how it didn't really take that much effort beyond simply being as annoying as possible for my tastes...), but Leslie the Dark is still a shoddy result who similarly did not earn his fandom acclaim. Much like how my personal distaste for Frontiers doesn't mean I'm suddenly going to start fawning over '06, or any other game I consider too flawed to consider good in the unironic sense.

You can tell Mephiles was set up to be the ultimate mastermind, and that him failing to line up with that role was not intentional. Notice you'll get fans gushing over how brilliant he is, but once you point out the issues with him, then they'll switch gears and act as though his flaws were deliberately woven into his portrayal. Either that, or that you can't expect perfection from a Sonic story (which is hilarious since most fans make a big deal about how they care more about the story than the gameplay, to the point of excusing certain installments of their non-nitpick shortcomings if they find the story to be halfway decent). It's no different to claiming Scourge was always meant to be a parody, despite how he would frequently be presented as the biggest and baddest threat with no irony whatsoever: it's a lazy excuse to justify bad writing, and very obviously such.

The only reason you could give Mephiles for going out of his way to convince Silver to kill Sonic is that he couldn't do so himself for whatever reason... which goes out the window when he ends up doing the deed himself anyway. It's not like he was too busy either, since up to that point, he spent the rest of his time fooling around with Shadow in ways that didn't really contribute anything to his ultimate plan. Or that he could have teleported all the Chaos Emeralds to his destination from the start, since it turns out he can do that as well, with no reason provided in the game as to why he didn't do so beforehand. While you can write a villain whose indulgements might occasionally drift from their overall scheme, you need to be smart about it, and provide context that doesn't compromise the story's structure.

This is what happens when prioritizing cheap power level thrills overwrites the plotting. To my dismay, this would not be the last time it becomes an issue in a Sonic game. *looks at Frontiers' shortsighted milking of super forms*

The recent push to retcon '06 in general as secretly brilliant is always going to be an example of why I don't take a statement as gospel just because it's a popular one. Yes, '06 does have some moments worthy of praise, and some ideas did have potential, but that doesn't mean the final overall product is actually good. The humans still look uncanny. The world still leans too far into realism for realism's sake. The gameplay remains as broken as ever, and no amount of praise given to Project '06 will change that the original game remains broken. Elise's character being reevaluated and appreciated is nice, but she was still used poorly in the plot. Silver might be powerful, but on top of being made to piggyback off of Shadow's popularity (and the majority of his creative process being little more than "think Trunks"), he was ultimately portrayed as a total idiot, and the way they framed him beating Sonic was just as unearned as Mephiles' kill, and contributed to Sonic's poor treatment in the game as a whole. Do I even need to go on, given what game that nearly killed the franchise we're talking about?

It's frustrating for me because not only can I express fondness for a less than stellar product while also acknowledging its quality with no issue at all (I am fully trained in the ways of Enter the Dragonfly and its lip flapping muppet models), I also happen to love stories that deliberately keep some of the details ambiguous in a way that's satisfying and intriguing instead of coming off as a cop out. So for people to hold up '06 as an example of that offends me lol, especially after so many years of later games being beaten over the head because fans cried up and down about not settling for mediocrity.

So we won't settle for perceived mediocrity, but outright shit is fair game?

#Crusher's Asks #Opinion #Mephiles the Dark #Sonic the Hedgehog 2006

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autiedonnie · 1 month

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So, what is your Transformers Fan Continuity like? 🤩

Ok ok so Neo:U is a next gen au in a sense? Many fankids bc i adore sparklings and odd crackships that ended up weirdly wholesome. I made it with my bf @official-big-gay-fish

Basically in Neo:U Megatron as the Decepticon leader never lost his way at least in the sense no violence he comitted was against his fellow con, his fight was ALWAYS to liberate the lower caste and cold forged. When he realized the Autobots who in this AU are spear headed by the Senate ( Optimus and those who follow him are a splinter faction of the original Senate controlled Autobots who want to prevent either side from destroying Cybertron and end things peacefully) were going to win he boarded every con the nemesis and left Cybertron. (This is a whole other thing i can get into) Optimus determined to find his old friend travels the starts with his splinter group of Autobots to find them upon discovering the Senate intends to either kill or reprogram every con the capture. Eventually they find Earth and due to low energon reserves they stay there for a while and ironically never interact with humans lmao.

Anyways the main crux of the story is Hot Rod is appointed head of the Survey Corps. where and his group scour Earth for resources and to learn about humans to live in peace with them in the future. Everything’s going great until they run into a group of cons.

Hot Rod being the person he is and not wanting to lose his freedom on Earth convinces everyone to stay quiet. This leads to shenanigans and multiple accidental interactions with the con kids. Especially since this au they use holoavatars a lot. Overtime to keep the peace and keep everyone safe and maybe a bit of curiosity they all truce which turns into friendship. a lot of the story revolves around these kids uncovering their past of a war ravaged planet, who their parents were during the war, coming to terms with trauma (especially generational oop), and finally ending said war. Also uhhhhh oops sorry kids you may be buddies now but hey haha whats that in sky? On no its scourge and the terrorcons.

You get a lot of high tension awkward interactions with the autobot and con kids! I say kids but they’re basically robot 25 which is absolutely baby to the old bots.

Autobots are

Hotrod (this hot rod is a MTO but my god no one will ever know outside Optimus and Ratchet) your typical Hot Rod stuff, big loud jokester who never takes anything seriously and hates himself. He has a Situationship with Magnus that he doesn’t wanna think about.

Strongarm- Shes Jazz and Prowls kid in this universe, looks like Jazz unfortunately takes after Prowl. A lot of her story is unpacking the beliefs Prowl instilled into her. She’s socially awkward and sucks at reading the room, but is very into music and singing. She also finds out she loves fighting and spars with everyone!!

Cloudchaser- One of my OCs, was found in the ruins of Vos as a sparkling by Wheeljack and Ratchet. They tried to find her family but do to what happened to Vos there’s very few flyers in the Autobots making trying to find them dangerous. So now she has a mad scientist grandpa and a grouchy grandpa. Clouds a very bubbly, chatty person. She’s the autobot gossip, if its a rumor Cloud knows it. If its sensitive info Cloud knows it. Cloud is super competent but she hides that behind a hyper egotistical, sassy, bratty mask because she has mixed feelings on being an autobot. Shes Hot Rods amica, and one of the only ones who knows hes a MTO.

Starpursuit- My bfs fankid of Elita-1 and Arcee. They’re a motorcycle and use they/she/he. Pursuits the type if they don’t respect you she’s not listening, they got that bullheadedness in them. Hes definitely a bit obsessive and intense at times, they get bored easy and love fun so shes easily swayed into Hot Rod shenanigans. Shes got the worlds biggest crush on Strongarm.

Metamelody- Another fankid of the bf. He’s Ironhide and Chromias! Hes a big ass van, almost as big as his sire. Mel is extremely soft and sweet. He’s shy, and despite being a ruler follower like Strongarm is easily pulled into shenanigans. He joined Hot Rods crew because he doesn’t know how to tell Ironhide he doesn’t want to go into weapons op, he wants to be a musician.

Decepticon kids

Nitrobreak-BFs oc whose the kid of my characters Cursor and Blackdirge. Nitrobreak is Hot Rods foil, he as zero worrys or doubts about his position as his crews leader. He’s confident and wears it well and it frustrates Hot Rod. Hes well loved amongst his faction and has a very healthy understanding of who he is. His challenge in life is all external vs Hot Rods internal struggles. They hate each other at the start

Blacklight- BFs oc, unfortunately Shockwaves child. If you acknowledge this or bring it up Blacklight will maul you. They were conceived when Shockwave was still a senator, and came into life during the war but because Neonstreak their carrier is a NAIL they never experienced it. They have complicated feelings about Shockwave, they’re scared of him but they love him, they’re obsessed with him, they want to understand him and work with him in energon conservation. They ARE daddy issues.

Dragstrip- Swindles kid because I made a joke they look similar and it somehow stuck. Devious trickster bastard, will sell everything and everyone for a single cornchip minus his carrier.

Wildbreak- u kno the joke wilbreak rid15 is breakdown and knockouts kid? Yeah yeah 100% hes still the awkward shy easily started person hes shown as in rid15. He wants to be a nurse and studies under his sire!

Jetlag- remember when I mentioned some of the ships that were crack ships that became canon? Yeah Jetlags the result of one of those crackships. Hes Skywarp and Thunderhoofs kid. Hes a seeker, but has fuck all antlers and hoof peedes instead of heels. He’s a bit stupid, and continuously bonks people with his antlers by accident. He has a crush on Blacklight but never wants to admit it because he knows Blacklights so scared of becoming Shockwave he doesn’t even want to attempt relationships.

#SORRY THISVGOT SO LONG #feel free to ask anything pre during or post war about canon characters or ocs

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fleetsonourgecentral · 1 month

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I suddenly remember That you never told us how a meeting between Prime/Archie! Sonic and Fleetway (Amnesiac/Good) Super Sonic would go.

Also I want to read Fleetway Sonic and scourge reactions if They somehow end Up dating (I like Fleetonic and I need something to draw lol)

I imagine any meeting between Prime and Super would likely come after Prime has already had the misfortune of meeting Sonic, and subsequently had at least one (1) argument about Super. If the argument hasn't already happened by the time Prime and Super meet, it's definitely imminent. I imagine Prime would be a lot more forgiving of Super than Sonic is (partly because he just doesn't have the same baggage Sonic does and partly because he's just overall less of a dick) so he'd be sympathetic to his plight. He'd be much quicker to believe Super when he says he doesn't want to be that evil person who hurts and kills people for fun. Sonic would scoff and call him a trusting idiot, but it's not that Prime is oblivious to or ignoring the danger that Super can cause, he just doesn't believe dogpiling the guy about it will actually help his situation

Sonic's reaction to finding out they're dating would just be more "I think you're fucking stupid" or, depending on how not-awful his relationship with Super is, just a quiet scoff. He probably tells Prime that if he's soooo fond of Super, then he can take Super with him back to his dimension, but he's probably also secretly worried about Prime actually following through, because if anything goes wrong, Sonic isn't there to help stop it. Chaos energy in the fleetway dimension is fucky and corrupted; for all his bitching and "don't come crying to me if he tries to kill all your friends", Sonic doesn't actually want another universe to suffer from that corrupted energy. He definitely doesn't want the chaos energy in the prime zone to become corrupted the same way his was, either

I can't imagine Scourge has much emotional attachment to Super to care too much. Like, he sees a part of himself in Super, specifically in how both of their identities used to be tied to Sonic, but he doesn't like that he can relate to Super. He doesn't hate or dislike him, but he definitely doesn't like him, either. He just often ends up being the one Ebony calls for out of everyone else in the freedom fighters because he's the one with the least amount of history with Super, so Super doesn't put him on edge the same way he does everyone else. So if Super started dating Prime, he'd probably just make some snarky comment about weak-hearted goody-two-shoes flocking together

Ultimately, the two of them together will probably mock the relationship. They probably only find out because one of them comes home and immediately starts bitching about how "did you HEAR Super and Prime are dating now???" and then they spend an hour talking shit about them. After all, even if Sonic has warmed up to Super a little, he probably still doesn't trust him or is comfortable being around him, and Scourge is a stubborn fucker who won't change his mind about disliking Prime out of sheer spite, so neither Prime nor Super have much of Sonic and Scourge's respect

#sonic the hedgehog #scourge the hedgehog #fleetway sonic #stc sonic #asks #headcanon #fleetway super sonic #prime sonic #they would not be polite about it because they're fucking rude #prime and super are missing nothing tbh let them live in bliss away from these two assholes (affectionate)#i'd elaborate more on sonic and super's relationship but 1 i'm sadly not that familiar with sonic's characterisation in the archie comics #(yes i could fix this by reading the comics properly no i won't do that. SO many issues of that comic and i am. so lazy)#and 2 i feel like that would probably be a little too off topic for this blog #probably shouldn't spam the ship blog with posts talking about a different ship lol #the amount of times i have to remind myself to stay on topic instead of replying with unrelated shit when i'm answering an ask is unreal lo #i'm so sorry i couldn't make the 'scourge and sonic finding out' part a fic btw #i WANTED to but the writing part of my brain was Not Cooperating #i hope writing what few thoughts i could scrape up as headcanons will suffice instead #either way thank you for the question

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wc-wild-rewrite · 8 months

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what’s ravenpaw like in this rewrite 👀

Unfortunately, Ravenpaw still has to leave since ol' tiger is still a murderer, but things do differ!

This got really long and sort of dramatic, so more under the cut

Firstly, he has a sister, Cherrypaw. She dies in the same fight that Tigerclaw came back from with Redtail's body. He also carries her back. Importantly, he did Not kill her, but Ravenpaw was in such shock afterwards that he thought he did. She is brought up repeatedly by Ravenpaw and the other apprentices, she was the bold optimism to Ravenpaw's anxious worry.

Ravenpaw leaves similarly to the books, but unlike the books, they actually hold vigil for him. They see him from time to time, particularly for more details on redtail's death, but in Book 8 a gang of rogues take over the barn to try re-create the more murdery side of bloodclan, so Raven, Barley, Fire, and Scourge (Ice at that point) team up to chase them off.

He also has vitligo. So there's not much white on his fur when he first shows up, but by the time the clans leave the territories, there's far more of it.

They say their goodbyes to him when their leaving for the mountains, and Firestar promises he'll come and visit if he's in the area, and asks him to direct Greystripe to the mountains if he appears, as Grey still gets captured in this.

However, when Greystripe arrives, Ravenpaw is dying. And Greystripe knows it, because he grew up with Raven, and Cherry, and Chestnutkit, the third littermate who died in the greencough epidemic just before the first book. Anyway, Grey and Millie stay at the barn for a while, postponing their return to the clans to keep an old friend company as he slowly worsens from an unknown illness that even the twolegs can't fix. Liver cancer, to be specific, but the cats don't know that.

Raven and Barley are mates, and he always wanted kits, despite his anxious demenor he was fantastic with them, and he wanted to help more cats like him, that had to run away from a group or cat. But, he knows he won't get to, as he's laid in his death bed and fed by his old friend and his mate, both of whom know he won't recover. He feels himself slipping, so he asks Greystripe to do one thing: give him a warrior name.

Now, greystripe is not deputy at any point in this rewrite, and even if he was, he wouldn't have clearance for such a ceremony normally. But this is a dying apprentice ceremony, and so, Greystripe asks what he wants to be called. He picks Ravenfern, after the ferns his sister used to wear in her fur and play in so often when they were kits. Greystripe agrees, and performs the ceremony as best he knows how. Ravenfern passes less than a half hour later.

Barley is, of course, very upset by this, but he's gone through a lot, and he knows Ravenfern would want him to carry on. And so, he sends Greystripe and Millie on their way to the lake territories, and opens up the barn as a refuge for any cat who needs it. And its a massive success, having dozens of cats pass through the barn every cycle (year) and even having some cats be born there.

In particular, one queen passes through, with a litter of three following weakly behind her. He feeds them, as he does with every cat, the healthy cats currently passing through help out with the kits as well. But the queen admits she cannot raise them, she didn't mean to have them and her twolegs would not allow them to stay with her, so she gives them to Barley. They don't look much like him, nor Raven, one cream and two blues, but he raises them as his own, telling them tales of the wild cats who lived there, and the fantastic tom he fell in love with.

Eventually, a long, long time later, the clans pass back through, having to find yet another territory. Firestar is dead, and most living cats may not even remember Ravenpaw and Barley, and yet Brackenstar takes the time to drop by on the way, and checks on Barley and his three kits. Lola, Sadie, and Bread. The clans were already aware of Ravenfern's passing and new name, as Greystripe announced it at the gathering he returned to, but Sandstorm is still saddened to not see her friend. They weren't close, but they were nurserymates.

Lola and Bread end up continuing Barley and Raven's legacy once Barley passes, but Sadie leaves to join Bloodclan, who replace Skyclan in this rewrite and are being brought back to the new-new territories by Alderheart.

Oh, and barley plants a bunch of ferns around the edges of the barn in memory of him. He may have died young, but his legacy never stops.

(When firestar learns of Ravenfern's passinng, he holds an all-night vigil with Sand, Dust, and Grey. The first vigil wasn't real, but this one is. He knows the vigil is moons too late, but he hopes his friend found the way to Starclan easy enough)

Sorry for the slightly story-esque drama ramble, but yeah, thats what happens with him.

#warrior cats #warrior cats rewrite #wc #wc rewrite #warrior cat rewrite #firestar #greystripe #barley #ravenpaw #ravenfern #cherrypaw #chestnutkit #millie

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davekat-sucks · 2 months

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Between the implied incest between Ult Dirk and Rosebot and Rosebot and Terezi I’d prefer Rosebot <3< for one caveat.

For the decreasing population of Vrisrezi shippers, Terezi going with Rosebot cucks Vriska from her destined Moirail turned Matespirit, Terezi. (I mean moiraileigence is already romance and soulmates but Matespiritship is seen as traditional human romance… and sex between the pair for SMUT)

Of course Rosebot with anyone else but Kanaya cucks Kanaya.

So we have Kanaya and Vriska, two cucked by their girlfriends, so how do you cope with this double cuck? And say, do you remember 2 female trolls from Act 5 Act 1 who had a one sided crush on the other broken by flirtation with a lowblood?

Maybe they give them a second chance.

Well I guess there’s a problem that Vriska is still 16 in Beyond Canon while Kanaya is in her 20s… in sweeps.

But what the hell! It’s lesbianism! And can we forget Meenah and Vriska’s relationship? Let’s be consistent.

Anyways! Vriska <3 Kanaya is better than postcanon Rosemary.

Vriska x Kanaya aka Spidermoth is better than Davekat.

This is also the same Terezi too that actually had SEX with John and is now carrying his dead body in hopes of reviving him. Whether he becomes June or not, even he will have to find out eventually that Terezi had black flirted with Rosebot. Another heartbreak commence. For trolls, it is natural for them to enter in polygamy relationship because of quadrants, but in the case for humans like Rose and John, they had accepted monogamy. One even went through literal marriage before Rosebot left Kanaya. And Kanaya had to learn and accept about monogamy from human culture. If she finds out that Rosebot had flirted with both Dirk and Terezi, then she will call her a hypocrite and question herself on why she had thought monogamy was a good idea if it ends in heartache. I am curious how Vriska would react to all this. She would think she has grown better as a person. Would she think that Terezi is still the same or changed for the worse? Would VRISKA herself start to accept her own presence was the reason Terezi became this way and acknowledges their relationship, friendship or any quadrant kind, is toxic and they shouldn't be together? That would be an interesting character growth for Vriska if she herself sees that being the Scourge Sisters has ended its course. It would be in lovingly full circle for Kanaya to see that Vriska has gotten better as a person and knowing that she can't always idolize the bad girl persona. Kanaya would finally get her wish and dream granted of finally being with Vriska.

#Vrisnaya #KanVris #Kanaya x Vriska #Vriska x Kanaya #Homestuck #Homestuck 2 #HS2 #Homestuck^2 #Homestuck2 #Homestuck Beyond Canon #HSBC #Terezi Pyrope #Rosebot #John Egbert #June Egbert #HS^2

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sinisterexaggerator · 1 year

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Headcanon...?

Spoilers for a fic I will write eventually?

Do not read if you do not like made-up, author-indulgent backstories for characters who exist in the GFFA. This one is almost hard to post because it's kind of personal. Like, a story so plot driven that I am nervous people will hate my interpretation and my ships. Oh well, I guess, it's happening.

A discussion in the Duros hoes chat, and then between me and @allsystemsblue, got me thinking about what is Cad Bane's real name? It sure as hell ain't Cad Bane. A lot of the fandom seems to agree on that. "Cad" and "bane" are both words in the dictionary that can be defined.

Cad: a man who behaves dishonorably, especially toward a woman. / scoundrel / rogue / rascal.

Bane: a cause of great distress or annoyance. / scourge / ruin / death.

We shall come back to this.

I have a scene mapped out for Stars Above in which I want Cad to run into his sister. I have a plan for his backstory that does not include this particular fanfic, but another, a series I am working on that will be entitled "Annuals of an Outlaw," and is essentially a collection of works I have outlined that will contain my version of Cad Bane's "story" from his beginnings on Duro in the Descent Ghetto, to after the Clone Wars and beyond.

Yes, it will have smut. And angst. Lots and lots of angst. Many character will appear, including Jango, Hondo, Aurra, Bossk, Embo, Zam, Dengar, Todo 360, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and even Boba at some point. Oh, and let us not forget Shriv Suurgav. :)

Yes, Shriv.

You cannot stop me. Don't even try. This is my magnum opus, and by God it will make sense narratively. Just you wait. Or don't. I don't care. I am still going to write this thing if it's the last thing I ever do.

First of all, I enjoy playing around with Star Wars name generators. That is how I came up with the name of my OC, Zulara. I started sifting through them, piecing last names together with other first names, and voilà, a new name appeared to me that caught my attention.

Originally, I was looking for Durese words that maybe meant something in relation to his occupation or personality, but none of them called out. It appears others had that same idea in the past, so it makes sense to go with something new.

Anyway, my name for Cad Bane is Lumoon Troks.

Here are the outpouring of thoughts I had on the matter before I could stop myself. I came up with this over the last hour or two, and I am digging it so far. Who knows, maybe I will change my mind. It's helping me to fill in a lot of gaps, anyway, that I had in the plot, and I am happy about that.

So, I am giving Bane siblings. Two much older sisters, two brothers who are 1-2 years apart, and a younger sister who is four or five at the time Lumoon finally leaves home.

His siblings call him Lu, or Moon for short. When they want to be annoying, they call him Moody Moon, or "Lemon" because of his sour outlook ( lemons are "canon" in SW, I checked).

To sum things up briefly, Bane's mother was a kindhearted woman and his father was a gruff workaholic. They both were employed in the factories and rarely had time to spend with their family, but had too many mouths to feed.

Cad gets into trouble quite often. He runs wild in the streets from a young age. Maybe he hooks up with the wrong crowd. Nothing too menacing; some petty theft, vandalism, etc, etc.

His father's angry about it. He refuses to take on work in the factories with him. He wants more for himself. He's not about that grind day in, day out life. Things get so toxic between them that he leaves to make his own way, stops coming home, worries his mother sick, and his little sister to boot.

So much so, his little sister ( talking maybe preschool / kindergartener age ) decides she has to "bring Moon home" and takes it upon herself to find him. She loves her big brother and sorely misses him.

This does not end well. At all. The worst possible scenario unfolds. The first of many tragedies in Cad Bane's life. It deeply affects him. He tries to go to his mother; she isn't the same Duros any longer. She coldshoulders him, ignores him, and she suffers from a broken heart.

Cad blames himself. "She went out to find you and never came home." This time, he really does leave and never returns. I am sure there is a final fight between him and his father that maybe seals the deal. He takes up random jobs, anything that pays, from sex work, to being hired muscle, to thieving, to murder, you name it, as long as the pay is good and it keeps his mind off his own problems.

He learns skills along the way, and he also learns from his mistakes. Things start being a little too easy. He's tired of being bossed around. He wants to be his own boss. So, that's exactly what he becomes.

He decides to try his hand at bounty hunting. He begins to make a name for himself, except, he hasn't. He needs a new one, something intimidating, striking, and rememberable. Plus, he doesn't want his birthname floating around; that makes him vulnerable, as well as the rest of his surviving kin.

Bane's mother, in the early days of his youth, used to scold him for misbehaving. She called him the equivalent of a cad in Durese, and it translated that way from basic, something along the lines of "Lumoon! Quit being such a cad, you naughty boy!"

It means something to him. He feels it embodies what he has become. It is also a tribute to his mother as well as a punishment; something he has to live with and that he brought upon himself.

The next thing you know, one of his many enemies makes a snarky comment, saying to him, "you are the bane of my existence," or simply, "you are a bane!" From there, his new name takes shape in his mind. He thinks if you put two and two together, it sounds kind of nice. It sticks. He starts to introduce himself like that, when before he had only referred to himself as Cad.

Another misfortune befalls him, which I mentioned I wanted him to run into his sister. This would happen off-world somewhere, years later, and during the reign of the Galactic Empire. She would say something to the likes of: "Mom died. She never gave up on you. She waited for you to come home, everyday. I didn't have the heart to tell her I had seen your wanted posters."

It tears him apart for awhile. His second great tragedy. Never getting to reconcile with the Duros who raised him and whom he loved. He harbors this for the rest of his life.

Of course, running in the streets, he learns not to trust people. He's jaded. He gets fucked over a time or two, badly, and by people he thinks he can trust. He develops a shell; a way of looking at the world that allows him to keep his guard up for his own protection.

In that same vein, I believe Bane can love and that he can love hard given the right circumstances. One of the many reasons he's kept from saying it, is because every person he has ever cared about has either turned on him or dies. The galaxy is a harsh mistress. He's afraid of a repeat scenario; he doesn't let himself get close. He tells himself he's better off alone, doesn't need anybody; he prefers to run without a pack.

That is, until he meets Jango.

And, that, my friends, is a whole other story, but I want to add that Cad Bane has bad dreams. Nightmares, even. Visions. Terrible things happen, old memories replay, he is haunted by his past. The sister he couldn't save; the mother he thought had stopped loving him; the father he was never good enough to please.

Hondo compares himself to a sun, and Bane is the moon. This would fuck with him psychologically, and cause him to react unexpectantly should the nickname stick - one that is reminiscent of his childhood. It is Hondo Ohnaka in my story that saves Bane from himself after Fett meets his untimely end.

Jango, Hondo, and Shriv may call him moody from time-to-time, or grumpy, but that also does not sit well, either, considering his past.

Once Jango dies, and once he fails at training Boba, Cad is even more a wreck than before. In my story, he also does not get to reconcile with his old partner and mentor after their falling out. He drinks himself stupid in the presence of Boba to the point the boy gets fed-up and they have their duel.

Bane, in my mind, can't accept Boba as Fett's son; he is a clone; he could never accept the clone contract from the get go - it put a rift in their relationship. This adds more fuel to the "look out for yourself" fire that is his quote in the Book of Boba Fett.

Sorry this got so long-winded, but, I had to get that out as it came to me. Now, to actually write the story all these ideas are for!

#Star Wars #Cad Bane #Hondo Ohnaka #Shriv Suurgav #fictional backstories #headcanon #self-indulgent af

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