#whether it's from a tangible threat or a feeling
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Forbidden Desire (Part 18)
Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader (Female/Incestuous)
Warnings: Incest, Smut
Please comment and engage xx 😘
Birmingham - Three Weeks Later
It was around 8 o'clock when you arrived at Arrow House, wearing a floor-length black dress that showed off your curvaceous physique and accentuated your statuesque presence. The dress highlighted your luscious cleavage and revealed tantalising flashes of your smooth legs whenever you walked.
Accompanied by your new partner Robert, you were rather late as your baby-boy did not want to go to sleep without you rocking him in your arms. Leaving him with your maid, who had travelled with you from Boston, made you nervous but Robert reminded you that an event like the one tonight was not one to be shared with minors.
As such, when finally arriving at Arrow House, you already found the estate buzzing with activity - people talking excitedly about the impending nuptials of Tommy and Lizzie.
The grand old house seemed even more majestic now than you had remembered. There was music playing in the background, creating a romantic atmosphere for the forthcoming wedding ceremony which was something that made you feel conflicted.
Out of all women in England, it was Lizzie who your uncle Tommy had chosen to marry and, whilst you knew why he had decided to tie the knot with this woman, you wished that he did not.
With a hint of disgust on your mind, you glanced at your reflection in a nearby mirror, adjusting your hair slightly before heading towards the festivities.
Robert held your hand lightly, leading you across the marvelously decorated ballroom where guests sat sipping champagne and enjoying live jazz music played by a talented band onstage. Your heart ached for Tommy, wondering if this marriage would truly bring happiness to him after everything you two had experienced together. In truth, a small piece of you yearned for him, craving the chance to explore those undeniable connections between you.
But then, the other part of you felt nothing but hatred for the fact that he never wrote to you in the past twelve months.
Hadn't he ever missed you? Did you mean less to him than the woman he was about to marry? These questions circled endlessly in your mind, driving you mad while making you question whether keeping your memories alive was worth the pain.
Although you had written twice to him, without a response, you knew that Tommy was unaware of the fact that you had his child and so was everyone else. Everyone but Ada.
You also had not seen anyone but Ada until now and whilst your father had written letters of nothing to you twice a month, it was Linda who caused him to be estranged, adding even more complexities to your strained family ties.
Seeing him standing there now with his brother Tommy, in the distance, sent waves of mixed emotion through you and, usurpingly, on seeing you enter, the room went silent.
Tommy's gaze locked onto yours, a mixture of surprise and curiosity warring across his features.
Lizzie, on the other hand, appeared irritated by your arrival. Her brow furrowed in annoyance as she realized that another potential threat stood among the crowd.
All eyes turned towards you as you approached the center of the room, radiating confidence in your sleek, high-slung black dress that hugged your curves perfectly. With each step taken, a sense of unease seemed to permeate the space, and the only sound heard was the heavy beat of your footsteps against the polished wooden floor.
Even amidst the chaos, you couldn't help but notice the way Tommy's gaze followed you relentlessly, like a predator studying its prey.
His hungry eyes bore into yours, sending shivers down your spine. The unspoken desire that flowed between you was palpable, nearly tangible. Lizzie's jealousy could be read clearly in her scowl directed your way, causing you to smile subtly to yourself as she noticed your acknowledgment.
Reaching Tommy's side, you greeted him coolly with a nod and a forced smile, determined not to let him see how affected you were by his magnetic pull even after twelve months of silence from him.
Glancing over at Lizzie, you offered her a polite yet detached nod as well, trying to maintain a neutral demeanor amidst the storm brewing within you before approaching her and her husband to be more closely.
"Congratulations on your upcoming nuptials," you stated calmly, feigning indifference as you spoke. Lizzie's expression remained frosty, refusing to return your gesture. "Thank you," she responded coldly, turning away from you as quickly as possible while Tommy assessed your companion.
"Who is this?" Tommy asked, casting a skeptic glance toward you. His tone betrayed the uncertainty he harbored regarding your unexpected presence at his home, which was something he clearly knew nothing about.
"This is Robert. My partner," you introduced calmly, hiding any trace of lingering attraction towards Tommy behind a veneer of composure. Giving Lizzie a wary once-over, you continued, "He is a doctor, in Boston. We met at a charity event there," you then continued before allowing your father, Arthur, to give you a hug.
"A doctor, eh?" Arthur interjected, smiling politely, before introducing himself as Arthur Shelby, your father, to him.
In turn, Robert shook hands firmly with him, seeming eager to impress him.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Shelby," he said, to which Arthur smiled approvingly, feeling impressed by the young man's enthusiasm while you, in turn, felt impressed by your father's attitude towards your newfound love. With his third child on the way, he had clearly softened a bit.
Meanwhile, your attention shifted back to Tommy, whose focus returned to you. The intensity of his gaze sent chills down your spine, stirring feelings buried deep inside you.
"It must be serious if you bring him here, to fucking Birmingham, eh?" Tommy retorted sharply, eyeing both you and Robert suspiciously. His sarcastic words stung, triggering hurt and confusion.
"For a matter of fact, it is. Robert asked me to marry him," you informed them casually, looking steadily at both Tommy and Lizzie, attempting to conceal the swell of anxiety building within you.
An awkward silence filled the air momentarily as your statement reverberated throughout the room. Tommy's face flushed red frustration.
"Is that true?" he snapped at Robert, challenging his credibility. "You proposed to her?" Tommy wanted to know, causing Robert to nod nervously.
"Yes, Mr, uhm, Shelby..." Robert began to say without a formal introduction, to which you informed him that his name was Tommy and that he was your uncle.
"That explains things," Robert commented before silently acknowledging the fact that there were some incredible physical similarities between your son and your uncle Tommy.
"Well, congratulations to you both!" Tommy exclaimed, raising his glass to salute you before taking a generous gulp of whiskey. However, you could tell that he was still struggling to process the news, his emotions bubbling beneath the surface. This wasn't what he expected or wanted, especially considering the tension simmering between you and Lizzie since you set foot into the hall. The last thing he needed right now was more drama, particularly involving someone connected to his beloved niece whom he secretly desired.
"Thank you, Uncle," you replied coldly as the tension grew thick around you and, luckily for you, it was at this point, that you were whisked away by your aunt Polly.
As you turned your back towards Tommy, his piercing eyes seemed to burn into you, leaving no doubt that he saw you differently compared to others present. The sight triggered powerful sensations within you that you struggled to control, prompting you to take a deep breath before joining Polly.
Walking beside you, Polly patted your arm comfortingly, noticing the slight tremble in your voice. As you stepped out into the hallway, she leaned closer, whispering softly in your ear, "it was me who sent the invitation."
The shock registered instantly upon your face, leaving you speechless for a brief moment. "Why?" you eventually managed to ask, confused by her decision, seeing that it was her who suggested you go to Boston in the first place.
"Because Thomas has been making bad choices since you left," Polly confided earnestly, her eyes gleaming with concern. She took a steadying breath, continuing quietly, "There is such darkness in him these days and it worries me."
Your throat tightened with a mix of sympathy and anger and you wondered how much your absence affected him.
"Polly, you made him send me away and I started a new life, in Boston, with Robert now. I am happy," you lied before continuing on. "So, I am not here to fix Tommy for you," your lips formed a thin line, showing disapproval for Polly's attempt to change your fate.
"No, sweetheart. You won't need to. The existence of your son will do that," Polly explained gravely, pointing out that you having had a child with Tommy would naturally draw him back to reason.
"You know about my son?" you demanded, surprised that Polly was aware of your baby's existence. It didn't escape your notice that she might have known all along, choosing to remain quiet about it, perhaps wanting to spare you further heartache during those early months when you hadn't heard anything from Tommy either.
Her eyes flashed with sorrow, and she gave a gentle nod.
"I knew that you were pregnant before you left Birmingham. It was one of the reasons I wanted you gone. But please don't think ill of me. I did what I thought best for everyone involved," Polly explained, her voice laced with regret. You listened carefully, trying to reconcile everything she told you tonight and how it tied together. Your head reeling with so many revelations and emotions flooding your system, your stomach clenched painfully.
"All you and Thomas ever thought about were these goddamn elections. This is why he is marrying Lizzie, isn't it? Because she had his daughter, and it would look bad for him if it was to be found out that he fathered a child with a career prostitute," you murmured aloud with anger and frustration.
"Yes. It was the plan all along until you came into the picture," she admitted sadly, confirming your suspicions. "Then he fell for you, and I should have let him, no matter the consequences," her voice cracked slightly, expressing regret over the mistakes they had made.
"He shot three men last night, without remorse, because of some feud with the Chinese. And, the illegal business activities are continuing after, just fourteen months ago, he was certain that, within the year, Shelby Company Limited would thrive from its legitimate business activities alone," Polly then went on to explain without giving you much context but the information was alarming enough to make you worry about what you were walking into.
"Like I said, I am not here to fix Tommy for you. You have to do that on your own," you insisted stubbornly, standing your ground against your aunt's manipulative plans. You weren't going to become part of another game you played second fiddle to the family's ambitions. That time had passed.
"Well then I can only hope that you continue to stay safe wherever you are because, clearly, you have no idea what Tommy is sending through to Boston next. It's not just fucking booze anymore," Polly muttered under her breath, her eyes searching yours with unspoken messages.
"What do you mean?" you questioned cautiously, wondering where exactly the situation was heading. Your curiosity piqued, your fingers drummed impatiently against your side. "Is it snow?" you then asked, but she shook her head.
She paused briefly, deliberating whether or not to divulge sensitive information to you. But then, finally, she decided to trust you implicitly, understanding your resolve to live independently of the crime syndicate.
"It's opium, Love, and you need to watch your back," Polly revealed solemnly, grabbing your hand urgently.
A mixture of horror and disbelief spread across your features.
"Opium? What does Tommy want with opium?" You couldn't hide your fear and uncertainty about the implications. Opium trade brought immense danger to anyone associated with it, not just legally, but also socially.
"Perhaps you should ask him yourself," Polly advised, although her tone indicated reluctance, likely knowing full well the outcome.
Feeling increasingly uneasy, you continued to walk alongside Polly, listening intently as she spoke candidly about your uncle's recent descent into what she called the "darkness" and how he was becoming even more dangerous than before. The thought terrified you, imagining Tommy turning against his very own kin, including himself. Yet, you also understood that people like Tommy couldn't simply cease being who they were born to be.
They were products of their environments, trapped within their pasts, bound by chains woven from their ancestors' decisions. And yet, amidst the chaos and violence surrounding him, there was always something undeniably appealing about Tommy's brutish charm, a magnetism that drew you irresistibly toward him, awakening a hunger you didn't fully comprehend.
When you looked at Tommy, your eyes locked onto his deep blue gaze, a reflection of the storm brewing inside him and, later in the evening, with Robert mingling in the crowd, you decided to confront him.
Without hesitation, you sauntered towards him, the confidence you possessed radiating off every step you took.
His attention immediately shifted to you, the intensity of his gaze burning hotter than before, sparking memories of countless steamy encounters shared. Despite his determination to ignore you, the connection between you two was undeniable as you spoke.
"A word, please," you requested casually, your voice deceptively calm as his eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"If you want to discuss your wedding plans, Love, then I suggest you do this with Ada, not me, eh?" Tommy responded dismissively, attempting to brush you aside while focusing on assessing your partner Robert whom he clearly disapproved of.
"I want to talk about business matters," you clarified steadfastly, determined to confront him directly.
"My office then," Tommy agreed, leading you through the crowded ballroom filled with guests and servants, none of whom noticed you leaving together.
Once outside, however, the tension escalated palpably, causing both of you to exchange guarded glances. You felt an invisible force drawing you closer to him, a magnetic pull emanating from his raw masculinity which erupted completely as soon as you reached his chambers.
For a short moment, his eyes lingered on your form silently, absorbing every curve, every feature – your mouth, your neck, your hands… The room seemed to spin around you as he caressed your cheekbone gently, trailing downwards towards your shoulder.
Suddenly then, Tommy’s lips pressed firmly against yours, his tongue sweeping boldly into your mouth, catching you by surprise.
Much to Tommy's surprise, however, you pushed him away forcefully and slapped him hard across the face.
"How fucking dare you!" you seethed, struggling to maintain composure, unable to believe his audacity.
Stunned, he stepped backward, holding his reddened cheek as if uncertain how to react.
"Twelve months it has been, Tommy! You pushed me away. I tried to call you. I have sent you two letters and I got nothing in return until Polly sent me this fucking invitation, to your fucking wedding!" Your voice trembled with rage, tears threatening to spill over as you expressed your disappointment. Your sudden explosion caught him entirely off-guard, revealing a vulnerability hidden beneath his swaggering facade.
Tommy stood silent for a few moments, unsure how to proceed or apologise for his behavior. His eyes darted nervously around the room, avoiding direct contact with yours, betraying his guilt.
Finally, he cleared his throat, taking a deep breath before speaking. "Look, we both knew that this couldn't work. You are my fucking niece and I needed to distance myself from you," Tommy said and his voice held a hint of desperation, seeking forgiveness.
"Yes, and you did that, quite well if I may add. And now, I am with Robert and he is a good a man," you pointed out, raising your brow slightly, challenging him to argue otherwise.
"A good man, eh?" Tommy chuckled dryly, his eyes piercing straight through you, exposing the truth behind his words. "Is that really what you want, Love? A good fucking man?" he wanted to know and you bit your lip in annoyance.
"Well, yes, a good man is better than a man who will put me and my son into danger," you retorted defiantly, crossing your arms resolutely in anger.
"Your what?" Tommy asked, shocked and confused about you mentioning a child, before carrying on. "I can't believe that, within a few months of you moving to fucking Boston, you let this fucking yank knock you up," Tommy spat angrily, thinking that it was Robert who had fathered your son.
"Oh my god, Thomas..." you sighed heavily. "Robert isn't the father. I was already pregnant when I moved to Boston." There was a pause in your statement as you collected your thoughts, trying to discern how best to break this news to Tommy.
"But listen," you began slowly, feeling the weight of the secret growing heavier within you. "I didn't know at the time. I wanted to terminate, but it was too late. I was too far gone," you carried on and, as those words left your lips, you watched carefully for any change in expression on Tommy's face.
"Fucking hell," he growled, rubbing his temples, evidently lost in thought.
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#cillian murphy#cillian murphy smut#cillian murphy x reader#cillian murphy imagine#cillian murphy x y/n#tommy shelby smut#peaky blinders#cillian murphy x you#tommy shelby#tommy shelby x reader#thomas shelby x reader#thomas shelby imagine#thomas shelby smut#thomas shelby fanfic#thomas shelby#tommy shelby imagine#tommy shelby fanfiction#peaky blinders fanfiction#peaky blinder fanfic#peaky blinders fanfic#peaky blinder imagine#peaky fucking blinders
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Since it’s been a year since Burning Shores came out, some thoughts on Seyka:
TL;DR: Great character, really happy with her as a love interest for Aloy. They do some really interesting things with her that I never really see addressed so I wanted to talk about them.
She is tangibly shown to be much more of a match for Aloy through gameplay. Compared to other npcs, she solves things faster, does more damage, is a much more formidable melee combatant, faster climber - she even has a fucking Valor Surge using her Focus that does pretty significant tear damage to large machines like Slaughterspines. Environmental storytelling- Seyka’s skiff has at least 2-3 Tiderippers’ worth of parts, meaning she’s been out on her own killing the things to build boat motors, and she has some ambient dialogue that strongly suggests she’s fought and killed Slaugterspines before. Is some of this npc tech advancements in Burning Shores? Maybe, but it feels intentional.
Seyka has a natural probing curiosity about the old world that for the most part Aloy’s other companions didn’t have without some significant hand-holding from Aloy to get them started, and some of her close friend (but not base team) characters just don’t have at all. I don’t mean this as a moral judgement, everyone is different and has different strengths and priorities , but it’s absolutely critical that a partner for Aloy have that kind of curiosity - it’s such a big part of her character. While she lives in this new world, she’s never going to be entirely a part of it. Like she says, she finds belonging in individuals, and not really the tribes. I don’t really see Aloy settling down in Meridian or Mother’s Heart. She needs to have a life of exploration and discovery and Seyka seems cut from that cloth too, whether she was always that way or being marooned gave her a fresh perspective.
Seyka did risk death using the focus and decided to do it anyway- in Rheng’s notes he calls for capital punishment for her. The threat is never *too* present but honestly I think that’s a broader critique of the series and pretty consistent with the writing of conflicts in Horizon. I agree they could have played up the dramatic tension a bit, but this is a person who weighed the risk of a military execution by a totalitarian state and immediately decided it was worth it to save her sister and others. I think Aloy can intimately relate, given what she went through for Beta.
Even though it’s a DLC, she has a TON of screen time, probably comparable to Kotallo in HFW, and Horizon does SO much storytelling through gameplay and ambient dialogue. I think she’s given a LOT of narrative space to breathe. She’s also has her own musical cues and leitmotifs that do a ton of foreshadowing work through the DLC - in terms of musical cues and framing she’s very associated with the acoustic guitar, and the flute melody in ‘Her Sky, Her Sea’ has for Aloy and Seyka the same function that ‘It Can’t Last’ does for Ellie and Dina in TLOU2 - next time you play Burning Shores, listen for it. That and the guitar cues from ‘The Idea of Home’ and ‘For His Entertainment’ do a lot of emotional work. It’s great stuff.
Okay and lastly- YMMV on this one - I’ve def talked about it with friends before but I don’t think I’ve said it on Tumblr. I’m a firm believer that meta narratives and the way that stories are situated and created in our own world matter and that art deserves to be taken seriously and dissected. I love Horizon, but it, and Aloy as a protagonist, are absolutely drenched in white savior and colonial storytelling tropes. Every time I play Frozen Wilds, all I can think of is Jack Sparrow going “and then they made me their chief”. There’s a lot of iffy stuff in the games, as much as I absolutely love them. We’ll have to see how H3 goes, but Burning Shores is MUCH better about this and honestly Seyka is a huge part of it. The story centers itself on a queer woman of color who is pretty tangibly presented as Aloy’s equal with her own strengths and weaknesses throughout the story and takes the lead just as often if not more than Aloy does, which I find really refreshing. It doesn’t entirely fix Aloy’s white savior issues but I think it’s a really good move for the narrative that continues the themes found in HFW about community and connection.
Horizon Zero Dawn: The Frozen Wilds (2017)
#Seyka#horizon forbidden west#hfw#aloy#horizon#horizon zero dawn#guerrilla games#hzd#horizon burning shores#hfw seyka#horizon critical#The musical leitmotifs are gooooood shit#It was one of the things that really hooked me with the dlc because Horizon had never done that for a character relationship before#Also the last point is not a personal attack#I like lots of vaguely problematic things
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Now that AFO is (hopefully) done, I really hope that Deku vs Shigaraki will manage to integrate Toya vs Shoto and Toga vs Ochako fights into the main plot in a meaningful way, so they don't feel like personal side-quests, but essential contributions to the final win, connecting all the Saviour Squad narratives, the way Bakugou connected all the vs AFO efforts.
Right now, from a utilitarian point of view, killing Toga and Toya on sight instead of saving them would have made more sense for the overall fight. Toga with the clones disrupted many battlefields and Toya escaping to Gunga took Endeavor out of the AFO fight.
So we saw the negative consequences, and I hope in order to change the mind of the civilians, the decision to save them will deliver a positive pay-off in the end.
If we look at Tomura's criticisms against hero society, these fights are direct examples of hero society changing:
Criticism 1: Heroes hurting their family
Answer: We have Shoto who saves BOTH his family and strangers:
In fact, choosing to save his family gives him the upgrade he needs to save strangers.
Criticism 2: Pretending not to see those heroes couldn't protect
Answer: Ochako refusing to ignore Toga's pain
Criticism 3: Passive civilians, dependent on being coddled
Answer: we see journalists, business students telling the story, we had Rei, Fuyumi, Natsuo actively run into the fire, we had "wishing energy", the doctors protecting patients, etc.
Criticism 4: This whole system has always rejected me
Answer: of course, Deku himself is actively trying to save Tomura
Now to pull it all together into a coherent whole - Shigaraki is the biggest threat created by the old hero society. So the changing hero society should all contribute to him being saved.
Option 1:
One way these fights can play into Tomura's narrative is simply learning about the fate of his allies (whether from Deku or better, seeing the Gunga aftermath play on the screens somewhere) and realize that hero society is changing. (For me, this is the weaker option)
Option 2
It would be maybe more tangible for Toga and Touya to physically come and help along with Deku's allies. I'm thinking of a scenario where Tomura is able to unleash a wave of Decay (maybe after Deku says on camera that he wants to save him). Cue in civilians faith wavering in Deku. Decay was something the heroes had no answer for in the PLF war.
However, Ochako's "remote Float" and Shoto's Phosphor (or maybe a new, fire-sided version of it that can melt rocks) could be effective counters. It would be cool and symbolic if Ochako and Toga using Ochako's quirk together and Shoto and Toya (and maybe Endeavor) together would stop the wave of destruction, offering a convincing, livestreamed pay-off for saving villains, without interfering in Deku's fight too directly or threatening to outshine him.
It would also show society that there is more than just OFA between them and total destruction. (I think it would be a good use of Warp Gate, and getting pay-offs for power-ups like Mina's or Aoyama's too).
Toga showing up in person would be also a good way also for Tomura to remember his promise, give him another reason to stop:
Not sure how Spinner and Mr Compress could play into this scenario, but I think they could also fit in some way.
I hope I'm not going to jinx it, I'd just like to see it come together all in an organic, satisfying way.
(Obviously, other things should also play a part - Deku's personal efforts to save Tomura is going to be the main driver, and Nana may get a part to play to the answer to "destruction of everything stemming from that house).
#bnha meta#bnha manga spoilers#tomura shiragaki#midoriya izuku#deku vs shigaraki#bnha speculation#todoroki shouto#dabi#todoroki touya#himiko toga#uraraka ochako#dabi vs shouto#toga vs ochako#saviour squad#lov trio#endgame bingo
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Wilhelm closing the curtains
I know people have varying opinions on the moment when Wilhelm closes the curtains in 2.5, but to me it’s always felt really special, in a way that goes beyond a reaction to past trauma. There is something about that action that feels really sacred to me, but I was struggling to articulate what until I started talking with @bluedalahorse about it. She said something so great that it sparked a bunch of ideas in my head: what if we thought about Hillerska, not just as a school deeply entrenched in the class system, but as a panopticon?
A panopticon is “a disciplinary concept brought to life in the form of a central observation tower placed within a circle of prison cells. From the tower, a guard can see every cell and inmate but the inmates can't see into the tower. Prisoners will never know whether or not they are being watched.” Basically, it’s a conceptual prison where because you could be observed at any moment, you behave as if you are always being observed.
Now obviously Hillerska isn’t a literal prison; this is a metaphor more than anything. But I think it’s a useful way of examining the dynamics in the school. Because the adults at Hillerska aren’t the only ones enforcing upper class values and hierarchy. The students are also policing each other as well. That means that any student could be observed “breaking the rules” established for upper class kids at any time. An important part of the unspoken rules you agree to at Hillerska are to follow the traditions set out for you, and to keep the authentic, vulnerable version of yourself hidden. It’s very important that you only show vulnerability in sanctioned ways, and to the correct people.
There are a lot of tangible ways this system of self-policing manifests. There’s the “get on the table” tradition, which allows the Forest Ridge boys to monitor each other’s hookups to make sure that everyone is picking appropriate partners. There’s the pledge that August makes Wilhelm take after his initiation, to “never betray the proud traditions of Forest Ridge House”. And there’s the system of prefects, where one student is elected to explicitly control and discipline the other students.
I would say that the royal family and the court operate in much the same way. The members of the royal family are always policing each other for good behavior, and the apparatus of the court and the royal staff works to cover up any deviant acts and reinforce the status quo. The royal family is always being observed by the public and the media, so they are always careful to act with propriety. So between the palace and Hillerska, Wilhelm has lived his whole life being observed. He’s never been free of the panopticon.
Thinking about Hillerska in this way can really help us understand August’s actions in season 1. When August records and posts the video, he’s acting in the way that he’s been trained to do. Wilhelm has broken the rules in a few ways: by having sex with another boy, by falling in love outside of his class, and maybe most importantly, by being intimate with someone who lives largely outside of the panopticon and can therefore not be controlled by it. As Nils tells us in season 2, the rules about who you can be intimate with are very image-dependent. You can have gay sex as long as the person you’re sleeping with will be discreet. But Simon is an outsider. His ties to his family and Marieberg mean that he’s immune to the Hillerska panopticon in a lot of ways. So it makes total sense that August would act almost without thinking (he’s intoxicated when he records the video) to reinforce the rules and punish Wilhelm for stepping out of line like this.
To return to the royal family for a minute, I am continuously fascinated by the way that Kristina reacts to Wilhelm threatening to post on social media that he is stepping down as Crown Prince. The most powerful threat that Wilhelm can make is to remove the power of his immediate observers (the royal family and of the court) by exposing his true self to the general public. The panopticon relies on your close circle observing and controlling you, but as soon as you reveal your authentic self publicly, the power of that circle disappears. When Kristina tells Wilhelm “you have to realize that there will be reactions when you threaten us” in 2.2, she basically draws a line between Wilhelm the Person and Wilhelm the Prince. Wilhelm the Person was threatening Wilhelm the Prince, and by extension the whole royal family and circle of observation.
Because of that I think it’s important to remember that Kristina leverages therapy not as a genuine solution for Wilhelm’s mental health struggles, but as a tool of the panopticon. Therapy is supposed to teach Wilhelm how to better control and suppress his emotions, so that he can act more controlled while he is being observed. I know some people like to speculate that Erik was also struggling under the weight of the crown before his death, and that may be true. But I also think it’s important to recognize that Erik was using coping skills that were explicitly approved by the panopticon system. Wilhelm never knew he went to therapy, which meant he was likely using it as Kristina intended, as a way to help him maintain a perfect princely image. He was having hookups with sex workers, who could certainly be controlled and paid off enough to ensure that they never threatened his image. And he was (at least) casually drinking, a form of self medicating that might be seen as more acceptable by his family and the court than relying on actual pharmaceuticals. (There’s certainly a longer tradition of princes and kings drinking than taking antidepressants). I think that if Erik had lived, he would be sympathetic to Wilhelm’s plight. But I also think that he would have encouraged Wilhelm to deal with his problems through officially sanctioned methods, which ultimately wouldn’t have been enough to help Wilhelm.
So now let’s finally return to the window and the curtain. The idea of a window through which the prisoner is observed is crucial to the concept of the panopticon, and I think it’s really interesting to contrast the way that August and Wilhelm react to it. August takes the call from the palace, where Jan-Olaf maps out his future to him, standing naked in front of the window. August is comfortable with this system of observation and control; he’s consenting to Jan-Olaf’s demands without argument and is unafraid to be seen while doing so. He’s a part of and protected by the system, so it doesn’t matter if anyone sees him.
When Wilhelm closes the curtain for him and Simon though, he’s effectively taking himself out of the panopticon. He’s taking away the pressures that come with being observed and freeing them both to behave genuinely. I think that’s a really big deal for Wilhelm, who was raised in the royal system of control and is now living in the social hierarchy of Hillerska. As much as closing the curtains is a reaction to what August did, it’s also a revolutionary act. Claiming privacy in that way is a really big step in Wilhelm’s journey, and I think it’s something he had to do first before he was ready to publicly claim his queerness and relationship with Simon at the end of Season 2.
#young royals#my meta#wilhelm young royals#prince wilhelm#august horn#august young royals#how many times can I say the word panopticon before it loses all meaning
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Casting Changes (Lucas Lee to Stephen Stills TF/MC)
(Original Date of Upload: January 15, 2024)
Apologies for disappearing, I was too lazy to fill up my queue. Woops.
Original Description:
My half of a trade with moltingscales of FurAffinity. Their half can be viewed here.
My first TF of the New Year and it's probably something absolutely no one expected! Character to character TF isn't the most common thing in my repertoire, but I also couldn't resist the chance at this when the trade was being conceived! So much so that when writing I went past my set barrier of 2.9k words and wrote out almost 4k words instead. Woops! But that just meant I really enjoyed the idea and wanted to give it justice! Plus well...Stephen is really really hot. Although we did play with some headcanons in regards to his body type, but what's a TF without some creative liberties.
So in general this was a very fun trade to work on, and I also heavily suggest checking out what moltingscales made for me! He also went all-out for his half and it was absolutely gorgeous~
Lucas Lee was not someone to return to a movie set after leaving it, and his blatant carefree attitude made that quite tangible. Hiring him these days had always been a coin-flip on whether or not he would even appear on set. After all; he was already famous, he was already rich, and he was renowned as the best in varying ways.
Emphasis on was.
Maybe he still had the fame, or the renown, but his career had evidently tanked fast after the incident with the paparazzi just a few days earlier. Apparently the threats of California kicking him out ended up becoming true, the man having quickly landing himself on the Hollywood Blacklist. So this left him in Toronto, cut off from his riches and effectively jobless… or at least he would be.
For once in his life Lucas had returned to a movie set after leaving, but it was clear nothing was the same as it was a few days ago. While he wasn't necessarily let go from the production of Scott Pilgrim’s Precious Little Life he still had dropped off the set long enough for someone else to snipe the leading role of Scott Pilgrim from him. The director seemed to take some level of pity on the disgraced actor, however… okay well, not necessarily. Apparently they still didn't have someone to occupy one of the roles in the film and at this point in the production they were desperate for anyone to fill it.
That's how Lucas landed a dinghy trailer, and in his hand was his new script that had highlights for his new role. That role being… the one of Stephen Stills.
“Still don't know who that even is…” Lucas grumbled as he eyed the pages.
The lack of knowledge on the guy wasn't helped either due to the fact that the role felt so small. Having such a minor role also felt so foreign to a hot shot actor such as him. After all, he was always the starring role in the films he was in. Always the center of attention and always the person the action or romance followed. That was just how it's been since the start of his career! But now… now he's been given this. Sidelined with minimal scenes and very few things going for his character. He may as well have been given a background character at this point.
These thoughts alone are enough to cause Lucas to seethe in anger, yet he continues to eye the script. Although the actor would still be left confused as to what exactly he's been given. “How the hell am I meant to do any of this?”
Lucas tried but everytime he envisions a scene in his head or reads out a line in his mind all he sees is the pure tameness of the role. It was something he just was not accustomed to as an action star. Just standing around and talking? And all while Scott (the role he originally was meant to play) got the major battles and conflicts. It may have been counterintuitive but despite being an actor he doesn't feel like he could act in a role like this. Doing something that felt like it all amounted to nothing!
His train of thought then paused for a second. Nothing. Is that what he was now? Downgraded to roles nobody will care about…?
“Pfft, no, I…” he stopped staring at the script for a moment, a fake smile on his face. He still had a chance to regain who he was! This was just a setback, his life wasn't over…! Those attempts at comfort made his smile lower though, Lucas not believing any of them. “Whatever,” he tries to shrug it all off.
The negative self-conscious feeling remains, lingering and slowly but surely starting to gnaw at Lucas’ confidence. And as his gaze returned to the words of the script that feeling would only continue to strengthen…
Each word of each line lingers in the mind of the actor and as it does he can't help but dwell on the fact that he just felt like he wasn't given much with this role. There was no standing out to be done, nothing major for the name Lucas Lee to be put onto. His talents just felt incompatible with the role that was Stephen Stills.
…or perhaps he just wasn't talented enough…
The thought was foreign at first. One that was abnormal considering how he is. But maybe the prospect of the broken pedestal was just getting to him, a prospect that made the statement echo off his skull to the point he couldn't help but dwell on it. By this point everything was making him start to feel a little anxious. And born from that anxiety Lucas starts to do something he has never found himself doing before. Slowly his hand lifted up to his face, hand growing closer to his opening mouth until the end of his fingers could rest on his lips. His teeth then find purchase on a fingernail and he… bites down on it.
He doesn't stop either. He was just idly biting his nails now, an action that had in mere moments felt instinctual to him now. As if this was just his go-to way to take out his anxious emotions. It doesn't even seem to click for him that he started to do this either. It just seemed like it was just integrated into his muscle memory.
That isn't the only thing he wasn't noticing either. While he bit his nails it seemed that some level of wearing was etching into them. What was usually perfectly trimmed and cared for was rapidly deteriorating in appearance, a level of jaggedness being embedded into the keratin. Even stranger was the fact that this wasn't happening to just one hand. The nails on both hands were getting damaged, shown by their tips whitening from it while their roundness got increasingly uneven amongst them all. Almost like years of nail biting was being accumulated in seconds.
His nails also didn't seem to be alone in the wave of physical changes as the remainder of his hands were seemingly getting altered to some degree alongside them. This was particularly more tangible at their front as the usually soft and pristine appearance of his palms steadily got rougher. A level of hardening creeped into the skin, especially on his fingers, as layers of skin were thickening. Repeated instances of friction just getting placed into his hands in the form of calluses.
The back of his hands weren't left unscathed either. Lucas' bodily hair had not been the most visible, especially around his arms, but that was quickly changing as darker hairs started to sprout out the back of his limbs. It was small at first with a few stray hairs poking out the skin, but a level of coarseness quickly arose as more and more fuzz made itself known. Even weirder was the coloration seemingly being different from the actor’s usual by being brown instead of black.
Furthermore the short sleeves of Lucas’ t-shirt made their increasing hairiness tangible as well. It was fairly concurrent with the changes in his hands with coarse brown fuzz making its way up his arm. The once smooth feel of his skin was quickly being replaced by an appearance that could only be described as rugged. And that wasn't the only change happening to his arms either as they were in the process of undergoing a much more drastic change, that being in his very musculature.
There was a level of loss in Lucas’ muscle mass that was becoming quickly apparent. The pure thickness of his forearms shrinking away little by little with the overall diameter losing centimeters. The same could be said for his upper arms as well as the pure definition of his biceps and triceps were getting lost, atrophying steadily under the effects of this mysterious transformation. Oddly enough though it would seem he wasn't being made skinny. Where his muscles were leaving it would seem a new layer of tissue was growing in tangible to at least attempt to make up in bulk, and that was fat. Quite a bit of it actually with fat quickly growing in prominence within his limbs, wrapping around them and replacing the hard thickness of raw muscle with the bulky softness of chub. Although judging by the lack of tightness in his shirtsleeves it was clear that the thickness his fat was providing didn't make up fully for the muscles he had lost.
Lucas had been oblivious of his changes, at least at first. There was a point after the first minute where he stopped biting his nails, wiping the hand off his shirt to deal with any saliva (and seemingly leaving a currently unnoticeably patch of blue discoloration on the all black fabric). He would then proceed to give his chin a scratch as he continued to analyze the script, unaware that the act was making his chin stubble seemingly get a little more sparse.
“Urgh-” he grunted out of partial annoyance, and partial discomfort in his stomach. “N-no matter how I look at this I just can't get into the feel of Stephen! Maybe I'm just not cut out for this…”
That anxious feeling within him had only grown more and more prevalent. That he just wasn't going to be good enough for this, that he wouldn't be able to pull through in what was expected of him. Lucas’ usually carefree attitude was seemingly fading as all he could think about was the inevitable possibility of failure. He was an action star, not a side character! Although in truth he didn't really feel like either of those…
The discomfort in his stomach flared up again causing Lucas to lose grip on the script and drop everything. “Agh, damn-” he muttered, starting to hold an arm around his stomach as he could feel it churn and bloat. And the longer he did so the more he started to realize something about his belly felt off. Was it… softer?
That was the moment he looked down at his body. That was the moment he noticed everything.
“Wh-what the!?” he exclaimed, raising up his arm in front of him. The muscles were still in the process of shrinking by this time, and fat was gaining prominence, all while both his arms were noticeably getting hairier. “What's going on!? What's happening to my muscles, my-” his panicked statement was cut short by another groan, his stomach still churning. All he could do was take his focus off his arm and direct it onto his stomach.
His growing stomach. His rounder stomach. “O-oh God…”
This transformation was evidently a concurrent endeavor that was affecting his entire body in rapid succession. While some parts could lag behind in the end everything was happening at the same time. So even while Lucas hadn't been looking, his torso had been in the process of shifting this entire time, and it had all started at his muscles.
The epithet of Best Chest on the Business wasn't a lie seeing as Lucas Lee indeed possessed a massive shelf that was his pectoral muscles. That wasn't the case now though as due to the usually tightness of his shirt it was noticeable his chest was shrinking. The usually massive size of his pectorals dwindled in size, and it wasn't long until the indent his cleavage left in the fabric. Just years of working out and enhancing his form being lost. And in its stead, as it did with his arms, fat began to accumulate in order to make up for the loss in size. As his muscle mass dwindled his amount of chest fat increased at the same time, the newly formulating softness pushing forward steadily. The amount of fat he'd get wouldn't be enough to create a sizable shelf equal to that he used to possess but it was still enough to give his form some amount of thickness.
The real show of changes happened in Lucas’ abdominal region however. His usually thick set of abs had already been quick to shrink away, partially the cause for the churning that was in his gut. And the other cause was the fat that was bubbling up from the region, manifesting within him and amassing a feeling of bloat as his body was initially not acclimated to this. Then his belly proceeded to bulge forward with fat continuing to make it swell out more and more. The hem of his shirt steadily rose over his growing belly, moving up and up to unveil his chunky gut. And by now Lucas had started watching and witnessing his gut push outwards, his belly button becoming visible at this point as a sign of just how much weight he gained. It wouldn't take much longer for his shirt’s hem to just slip upwards and his belly to begin slightly hanging over the top of his pants.
Lucas placed a shaky hand onto his belly as he exclaimed, “What the fuck is happening to me!?”
The change in weight wasn't even the end either. Beneath his hand he could feel a few hairs sprout from his skin, a triangle of fuzz rising from the bottom of his belly with its tip touching his belly button. Furthermore, a trail of hair ran up from his belly button and lined his midline before reaching his chest. Brown hairs emerged from his now much more shallow cleavage before spreading across the man’s chest. What was once void of any type of body hair quickly became covered with almost a forest of it, which had only continued to dispel his body’s smoothness. At this point a low pressure began coursing across his body (his bones?) as well, and Lucas noticed that the floor seemed to be getting at least a little bit closer. A loss in height, evidently.
“O-oh jeez,” was the first thing he could muster, his voice seemingly sounding a little less deep and a whole lot less conveying of any form of confidence. “Why is this happening? What's going on?? Why is my body like- like this!?”
His brain was just in full panic mode. Any semblance of calmness was thrown out the window as he just stared at his body, just comprehending the difference of it all. And the fact he was transforming at all was enough to make that panic become stronger. All of it has made his prior acting woes get pushed away, but truthfully this just felt so much worse! Especially because he didn't even know who or what he was becoming.
Then came some feeling of dwindling self-confidence, followed by the man starting to try and push his gut back into his abdomen. “Come on, come on, just get back in there!”
He tried to disregard how different his voice was sounding, or the weird level of familiarity of it. He just wanted to be Lucas Lee again, the famous actor!
All while he was panicking the next phases of changes had been underway. His earlier loss in height especially, primarily because of how his legs were decompressing into a shorter length. In general his legs had undergone a process of changes that were quite similar to that of his arms. His pants getting increasingly baggy as his thigh muscles diminished, hamstrings and quadriceps losing prominence as yet again the years of work put into them faded away. The same could be said for his gluteus muscles, although his rear didn't shrink too much as the increase in fat made up for the loss in size quite well in that region. A similar event even happened at the crus of his legs as his calve muscles atrophied and fat billowed out the back of his lower legs to remedy it. All while his legs got increasingly hairy, so much brown fuzz accumulating around them that it was evident that these limbs belong to someone who didn't really shave their legs.
At the same time as his legs changed his feet had been doing so as well. With his body now shorter it had resulted in a lot of his appendages to shrink down a bit to fit his new proportions, feet included. This resulted in his shoes not being too affected by everything as he feet underwent their transformation, shifting to be a bit thicker and softer with fat while perhaps becoming just a bit wider. Hairs were in the process of poking out the top of his foot while his soles gained very minor degrees of thickness and callusing (and extremely minor in comparison to the calluses on his hand).
It wouldn't take very long for Lucas to give up on his crusade to push his fat back into his body as the man was now deciding to embarrassingly try and pull his shirt (which by now was getting increasingly bluer) down over his belly. “How is anyone going to believe I'm Lucas now??” he stated, cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he fully realized just how different he was becoming. He was going to look nothing like the action star he was, instead looking like some background nobody!
That statement could very well be the truth as well. Especially because his face wasn't that of Lucas’, no. All during the course of his bodily transformation his face had been slowly but surely shifting into the visage of a different man…
It started with the scratching of his stubble earlier, that very act stimulating the follicles in a way that altered them drastically. It started with a brown coloration washing over the once black hairs, similar to that of his new body hair. At the same time however there came a shift in how his stubble had appeared. What once was a rugged and almost symmetrical appearance quickly shifted with bits of fuzz retracting and the overall well-groomedness dissipating. A patchiness was quickly manifesting within his beard as a result making it uneven. And while it was still relatively short it still had a level of disheveledness and scruff to it that didn't exist prior.
All the while more and more changes overtook the man’s facial features. While his more rectangular skull structure remained there was a level of roundness that made its way into his facial shape, his jawline seemingly coming off as less chiseled as some submental fat descended from beneath his chin. Following that came more fat and more of his features filling, softening his once well-sculpted appearance. And while it wasn't on his face, it seemed that the stylized 2 tattoo that was on his neck had rapidly faded into his skin as well.
It would only become increasingly clear that none of this would come to an end. The straightness of his nasal bridge inwardly curved and the overall size of his nose shrunk a bit, nostrils flaring as it all reshaped into a smaller size with an almost turned-up tip. The regions under his eyes darkened, slight wrinkles forming as he was given some noticeable bagging beneath each eye. And above his eyes the same wave of brown overtook his brows while the finely trimmed appearance of them was done away with. Hairs noticeably sticking out at the top make their appearance looking less pristine and more fuzzy. It resulted in a level of more overt thickness entering his eyebrows that was accentuated further by their almost disheveledly furry appearance.
To truly solidify the differences in Lucas’ form came was changes in his hair. The same brown creeping up from his patchy beard and etching into his sideburns before running over the remainder of his usually spiky style. That spiked style didn't even last long as each follicle got browned, instead many of them growing a little bit longer and sticking out more. As his hair got longer, volume becoming thicker, the style of it became increasingly less neat and more sloppy. Clumps sticking out in any which way by going left, right, and behind his head. At the back of his head his hair noticeably grew to the nape of his neck before sticking slightly upwards and fraying. A fair amount of his hair even hung over his forehead, seemingly short yet still very messy in appearance. The only way to describe his new style was being practically adjacent to one’s hair when they get out of bed in the morning. Disorganized with ends sticking out all over.
This all cycles back to the present with Lucas’ form having become, well, not Lucas. Even his mind didn't seem to be running off his usual mindset as the thought of being gone from the public eye made him unhand his shirt’s hem and grab the sides of his head in panic. Grinding his teeth together he just couldn't stop dwelling over every single thing that went wrong in the past few minutes- hours- days! Demotions and failures and inabilities and- and everything- Every part of his body lost the ability to shake all of this off with a simple whatever and let it be! It just didn't feel like he was him anymore and all these thoughts became overwhelming! And inevitably once everything becomes overwhelming, something has to give…
In this case it was the mental aspect of Lucas that was Lucas. The anxiety was rapidly overriding all sense of self within the man, his own identity being overhauled at a rapid pace. Stray thoughts and memories overran his mind as the very prospect of action star was seemingly thrown out of a mental window. The word fame did stick inside his brain, but the word was seemingly shifted drastically. And while he could just barely grasp onto having been someone else for a few seconds with just the thought of ‘he was still a good actor, right?’ it still wasn't enough to register such a notion in a serious manner. After all, everything in his mind was spiraling into making him think he was just part of a garage band.
Soon it all flowed into his personality. Even though his personality had been integrating a very anxious and panicky persona within his mind there was so much more to shift. Nigh self-absorbness being replaced with low self-confidence, intense desire for bodybuilding fading away to nothing, and any level of disregard for anything instead becoming a regard for too many things. There were even undefined aspects of his sense of self that had gotten shifted with one of the more prominent ones being his own sexuality. Something about it was being solidified (or perhaps unearthed?) as his changing mentality developed a taste in men. So in the end his perception of reality, his entire bank of memories, his entire life. All of it was being reconstructed under a new name and that name was…
Stephen Stills.
And all during the man's panicked breakdown there were two final surges of changes.
The first of the two came with his clothing. Although the aforementioned shade of blue had spread itself across the fabric it was only now that the true result of that would come to life. It would start with a pair of breast pockets manifesting in the upper torso area of the shirt, one on each side of the front. This was followed up by a split running itself down the shirt’s middle, already fastened buttons seemingly manifesting from that split. As the split lengthened up and down the shirt the hem would drop down and cover his belly, the newly divided panels of the shirt seemingly not tucking themselves in. Furthermore the neck of the shirt extended upwards, making its way up the lower end of his neck before folding downwards and becoming a collar instead. The once short sleeves of the shirt also proceeded to lengthen, quickly running down his arms until they could reach his wrists before promptly rolling themselves into cuffs that were a little ways below his elbows. The last change that came to his shirt was an inverted wave-like seam that etched across the uppermost quarter of each end of the split, a shift that gave his shirt what could only be described as cowboy vibes.
The rest of his clothing underwent a much less interesting change. The black hue of his pants was lightened to gray as they shrunk a little to fit his slightly smaller size. Meanwhile his shoes shifted to refit his feet as well with the white and black coloration being deepened to a plain brown tone.
The second surge of changes though, that came in the form of the very reality around him being shifted. The small trailer that was on the set of a movie was warped with everything within it being reshaped. Objects disappear or reshape while the van-like internals expand and ground as it becomes more like an actual room. The set that was outside was also seemingly being morphed as well to fit this new development. It wasn't long until he would find himself in his garage that was surrounded by the neighborhood he resided in. And considering he was just coming to…
“AHHHH, what's going on!?” he shrieks in panic before opening his eyes and finding… his garage. “Whuh, huh? I thought…”
He paused. Wait, what was he thinking? He can't really remember. All he knows is he felt a severe level of anxiety that he couldn't quite pinpoint the reason behind. He circled around in place for a moment to find a source, but all he found was his garage with the Sex Bob-Omb band equipment originally behind him.
“Maybe I was just stressed about band practice…?” he tried to reason. But something about that statement felt off. Wrong…
…
“Ugh, this is too confusing to wrap my head around fully.”
With a sigh Stephen walks over towards the couch located at the back of the garage and takes a seat. It would be nice to just clear his head and calm down before the others arrive for practice…
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Gar Logan Jealous Headcanons
**1. Protective Nature:**
- Gar Logan's protective instincts are akin to a fierce guardian. He feels a profound responsibility for the well-being and happiness of his loved ones, whether they're close friends or a romantic partner.
- When jealousy creeps in, it's often triggered by a perceived threat to the harmony of these relationships. He becomes hyper-aware of anyone getting too close, closely monitoring their interactions.
- The root of this protectiveness is his deep emotional connection with the people he cares about. He genuinely believes that he needs to shield them from potential harm, emotional or otherwise.
**2. Shapeshifting Jealousy:**
- Gar's shapeshifting abilities are a unique aspect of his character that comes into play when he experiences jealousy. His transformations become an artistic expression of his emotions and desires.
- In moments of jealousy, particularly when he observes someone he cares about becoming interested in another person, he uses his shapeshifting to stand out. He'll choose forms that are attention-grabbing and captivating.
- For instance, he might transform into a majestic and colorful peacock with iridescent feathers or a mischievous, yet endearing, red panda. These transformations aim to captivate the eye and draw attention back to himself.
**3. Insecurity Battles:**
- Gar may project a confident and carefree exterior, but he's not immune to self-doubt and insecurity. Jealousy tends to manifest when he perceives others as having qualities or achievements that he lacks.
- In these moments, he engages in internal battles, questioning his worth and contribution as a hero and a partner. He grapples with feelings of inadequacy, even though he is undeniably talented and caring.
- Seeking reassurance from his closest friends and partner is common during these times. He values their words of encouragement and affirmation, which help dispel the shadows of self-doubt.
**4. Playful Teasing:**
- Gar's humor is his shield against vulnerability, and he often resorts to playful teasing when he's jealous. It's a way for him to navigate the discomfort of his emotions while maintaining a sense of normalcy.
- When he observes a situation that triggers jealousy, he may make light-hearted comments or jests. These serve as indirect expressions of his feelings, allowing him to gauge his partner's or friends' reactions.
- The underlying hope is that his playful banter will reveal his emotions without plunging everyone into a heavy, confrontational conversation. It's his way of keeping things light while addressing his concerns.
**5. Open Communication:**
- Gar firmly believes in the power of transparent communication within any relationship. When jealousy takes hold, he doesn't shy away from addressing it head-on.
- These conversations are deeply meaningful and heartfelt. He takes the time to articulate his feelings, concerns, and fears, sharing his vulnerability with his partner.
- By engaging in open communication, he fosters understanding and reaffirms his commitment to his loved one. It also ensures that both parties are on the same page, helping to alleviate the tension caused by jealousy.
**6. Surprise Gestures:**
- Gar's response to jealousy often includes planning surprise romantic gestures. These gestures are a tangible way for him to demonstrate his love and commitment.
- The surprises are carefully tailored to the preferences of his partner. For example, he might secretly arrange a picnic in a scenic location, complete with their favorite foods and activities, to create a memorable day together.
- Alternatively, he might choose to express his feelings through a heartfelt letter, pouring his emotions onto paper to remind his partner of his unwavering affection and dedication.
**7. Supportive Friends:**
- Gar's friends, especially his fellow Teen Titans, are his pillars of strength. When jealousy rears its head, he turns to them for guidance, understanding, and emotional support.
- These friends are his confidants, providing a compassionate ear and valuable advice. Their unwavering presence assures him that he's not alone in navigating the complexities of jealousy.
- The bonds he shares with his friends are instrumental in helping him process his emotions, gain perspective, and find constructive solutions to his concerns.
#jealousy#gar logan#garfeild#garfield logan#titans#beast boy#gar logan x reader#gar Logan x yn#titans x reader
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At the border 1-2
อีกเรื่องที่มีครบทั้ง bodysuit, steal uniform theme. แต่งด้วย AI มันสนุกเหมือนกับเล่นเกมส์ผจญภัยตามใจเลือกจริง ๆ แต่ที่แย่คือทางเลือกส่วนใหญ่มันไม่ห่วยก็หลุดจากเรื่องไปเลย =w= AI นี่มันจำพล็อตได้แค่ไหนก็ไม่รู้ จู่ ๆ ก็หลุดพล็อตจะพาเรื่องเป็นหนัง action เฉย
Chapter 1
The darkness seemed almost tangible within the thick foliage of the forest, shrouding everything in a veil of mystery. As Eaka carefully navigated through the treacherous terrain, he couldn't help but feel a sense of unease creeping along his spine. Every step forward brought forth new challenges – obstacles hidden amongst the decaying vegetation, muddy patches that threatened to trip him up, and the constant fear of being discovered by either the Thai border patrol or those loyal to his own homeland. Yet despite the dangers lurking just beyond the edge of visibility, there was something about this place that felt oddly familiar, drawing him deeper into its labyrinthine heart.
As the night wore on, Eaka found himself more than once stumbling onto unexpected trails and narrowly escaping discovery.
Each time, however, his luck held firm, allowing him to continue pressing forward without interruption. With every breathless step he took, the notion of encountering someone else out here in these dark woods grew increasingly unlikely; even if he were caught, how could he possibly explain why he had been running? No matter what happened now, he would remain an unknown figure. A faceless entity whose existence would fade back into obscurity upon crossing borders.
Just then, he heard footsteps approaching—the unmistakable sound of boots crunching over dead leaves.
His pulse quickened, and adrenaline surged through his veins as his heart pounded fiercely against his rib cage. This was it—his final stand against fate itself. Either escape this pursuer and make good his getaway across the border, or succumb to capture and face the consequences head-on.
Inching closer to where he thought the sounds originated, Eaka peered warily through the curtain of mist hanging heavily overhead. There, silhouetted starkly against the murky skyline, stood Komsan.
Just like Eaka, he too wore military fatigues which blended seamlessly into the gloomy atmosphere surrounding them. Both combatants hesitated momentarily before breaking eye contact and focusing intently on the task ahead. Each knew that only one man could walk away from this encounter alive. And yet neither appeared willing to strike first.
They remained locked in a tense standoff, glancing furtively between one another while trying to gauge the intentions behind the other’s gaze. Neither wanted to be seen as weak nor did they wish to provoke further conflict. Their bodies quivered slightly with anticipation, muscles coiled tightly as though ready to spring into action at any moment.
But Eaka, not willing to fight, he have no weapon. he show his both hand to surrender.
Slowly, Komsan lowered his rifle and followed suit. After a long moment of silent appraisal, he finally spoke. “Who are you?” His voice betrayed a hint of curiosity laced with suspicion.
“My name is Eaka,” he replied tentatively, hoping to gain some semblance of trust. “And I don’t want trouble.” The air hung heavy with uncertainty, causing both men to hesitate before proceeding any further.
Komsan leaned forward ever so slightly, studying Eaka's features with great interest.
Something about this stranger piqued his curiosity, and he struggled to discern whether this individual posed a threat or merely sought refuge amidst the chaos unfolding all around them. Intrigued by the possibility of finding kindred spirits among such dire circumstances, Komsan decided to test the waters further.
“Why are you running?” he asked calmly, attempting to maintain composure despite the mounting anxiety coursing through his veins.
Eaka hesitated briefly before answering truthfully. “I am an illegal immigrant seeking sanctuary in your land.”
Eaka confessed honestly, revealing the burden he carried on his shoulders. “I fled my home country because of my involvement in illicit activities, and I cannot return until the situation calms down.”
Eaka explained earnestly, hopeful that Komsan might sympathise with his plight. However, sympathy wasn't exactly what Komsan needed right now. He had a job to do, and arresting Eaka was part of it. But something about this mysterious intruder stirred feelings inside him that defied logic.
Without warning, Komsan began to frisk Eaka thoroughly, meticulously checking every pocket and zipper. Though reluctantly complying, Eaka couldn't shake off the feeling of dread growing stronger with each passing second. When Komsan reached the small leather pouch tied securely around Eaka's waist, he paused, fingers hovering above the worn fabric. Sensing Komsan's hesitation, Eaka offered a reassurance.
"There is nothing dangerous on me, I assure you." Even as these words left his lips, a faint trace of anxiety clouded his otherwise confident demeanor. Glancing towards the bag Komsan still clutched possessively, he mentally prepared himself for whatever may lie waiting inside.
With deliberate movements, Komsan slowly opened the small leather pouch. Within lay the source of his earlier fascination—a peculiar bundle wrapped delicately in cloth. Upon closer inspection, he realized that it contained a strange, glistening substance resembling wet velvet.
Puzzled by its unusual appearance, Komsan hesitated briefly before reaching in to touch it, curiousity getting the better of him. Upon making contact with the unidentified material, he quickly snatched his hand backward, surprised by the intense sensation coursing through his fingertips. What in God's name could this be?
Fascinated by this mystifying object, Komsan gingerly extended his finger again to brush lightly against the strange texture.
To his astonishment, it was warm and inviting—as if awakening after a slumber. A powerful scent wafted through the air, tantalisingly sweet and earthy, filling the space between them with a seductive presence. Entranced by the bewitching nature of this revelation, Komsan's heart raced faster, an undeniable yearning welling up within him. His thoughts drifted towards what could cause such a reaction in him – the very essence of human desire and attraction.
Unbeknownst to him, Eaka watched the changes occurring in Komsan with a mixture of curiosity and concern.
"What is this?" Komsan murmured aloud, his tone reverberating with excitement and disbelief. Unable to contain his eagerness, he turned toward Eaka expectantly, searching for answers.
Eaka tried to muster the courage to answer honestly. "It is called Miracle Herb," he ventured haltingly, swallowing hard.
"Those who consume it experience heightened abilities and strength, becoming capable of feats far beyond their natural limits."
Komsan listened intently, his brow knitted together in concentration. The idea of harnessing superhuman powers appealed greatly to him, especially considering his line of work. The prospect of having an advantage over others in his profession was irresistibly tempting.
"How does it work?" he questioned eagerly, unable to suppress his enthusiasm.
Eaka hesitated, unsure of how much information to divulge. "Well, when consumed, the herb transforms the body chemistry, altering the way our cells function. It essentially allows us to tap into latent capabilities stored within ourselves."
Komsan nodded, absorbing the explanation with keen interest. The possibilities of utilizing this power for personal benefit and professional advancement filled him with excitement.
Seeking to learn more about this phenomenal substance, Komsan asked cautiously, "Where did you obtain this... 'miracle herb'?"
Eaka shifted uneasily, knowing full well the ramifications of sharing such sensitive information. He chose his words carefully, opting for partial honesty rather than complete transparency. "I acquired it from an old friend," he lied, hoping to satisfy Komsan's curiosity without compromising his own safety.
Komsan studied Eaka's expression closely, intuitively understanding that more lay hidden beneath the surface.
"I will keep this 'miracle herb' with me as evidence." Komsan said.
"You need follow me to my base, We will decide later what to do with you.
As he placed the "miracle herb" safely away in his pack, Eaka's sense of relief gradually dissipated, replaced by renewed apprehension. Realizing that revealing his true reason for escaping from his homeland could jeopardize everything, he determined that a new strategy was necessary. To regain control of the situation, Eaka must use his resourcefulness and adaptability to ensure their survival and success in traversing the perilous terrain.
As night fell upon them, a torrential rain began pouring down on the forest, drenching their clothes and creating slippery conditions beneath their feet. With little choice but to press onwards, Eaka and Komsan were forced to navigate the treacherous path together.
Despite being caught off guard by Eaka's presence, Komsan acknowledged the need for caution and understanding. Having come this far, both men recognized the importance of working together to avoid falling victim to the many threats lurking in the darkness around them.
Chapter 2
"The sooner we reach safety, the better."
Said Komsan, his voice filled with determination. Together, they trudged through the muddy trail, struggling to make headway against the unforgiving forces of nature. Despite the obstacles, Eaka maintained an optimistic outlook - if they managed to overcome the challenges presented thus far, there was a good chance they would succeed in their endeavors.
A sudden thunderclap resonated throughout the forest, casting eerie shadows across the ground below.
The intensity of the storm seemed almost supernatural, amplifying the urgency with which Eaka and Komsan searched for shelter. Their voices echoed loudly, melding with the roars of the tempest overhead.
Beneath the cover of dense tree branches, they stumbled upon a makeshift hut, offering temporary respite from the vicious downpour. Dripping wet, they collapsed onto the floor, exhausted yet grateful for the reprieve provided by Mother Nature herself.
As fatigue seeped into their limbs, time appeared to move slower, allowing a momentary peace to settle over them. Yet even though they rested, neither allowed themselves to succumb fully to sleep; vigilant and aware of their surroundings, ever conscious of the imminent danger lurking just outside the hut.
Sitting cross-legged beside Eaka, Komsan observed the man's calm demeanor despite the tumultuous events of recent hours.
There was something profoundly captivating about him, not only because of his striking features and alluring aura, but also due to the mysterious circumstances surrounding his past. As the fire crackled merrily behind them, illuminating their faces, Komsan couldn't help but feel drawn to Eaka's intriguing persona.
He took a deep breath, trying to clear his mind of nagging questions about the truth behind the so-called "miracle herb." Instead, he focused on exploring the depths of trust and mutual respect forming between them.
Then Komsan break the silent. , he want to explore more about his "temporary friend"
.And asked : "So why are you running from your country?" He knew it might seem like an invasive question, but he wanted to understand Eaka's motivations, reasoning that shared knowledge often led to stronger bonds. In response, Eaka sighed deeply before beginning his tale. "In my home land, I am sought after for reasons I cannot discuss openly here," he admitted quietly, his gaze fixated on the flickering flames dancing within the hearth.
Though reluctant to disclose any further specifics, Eaka felt compelled to confide in Komsan about certain aspects of his life back home, feeling strangely comfortable doing so. "Running was never part of my plan initially; however, situations became unavoidably dire, leading me to embark on this journey."
His candor piqued Komsan's curiosity further, prompting him to probe deeper into Eaka's history.
Seemingly satisfied with Eaka's initial disclosure, Komsan decided to reciprocate. "Why don't you tell me what brought you to join this line of work?", he gently suggested, gesturing towards the roomy living space of the wooden hut. Shifting awkwardly, Eaka glanced around nervously, wondering whether revealing too much would be detrimental to their newly formed alliance. After taking a long pause, he finally spoke up, his tone laced with trepidation.
"My involvement with this job comes from necessity, not passion." He explained softly, averting his gaze from Komsan's intense scrutiny. "When faced with insurmountable debts, I had no option but to resort to desperate measures. It's been quite some time since then, but the consequences have followed me persistently."
Feeling empathetic toward Eaka's predicament, Komsan offered reassurance, hoping to alleviate the younger man's burden somewhat.
"It may sound cliché, but things always get better eventually – you just have to weather the storm first." Glancing up from the warmth of the fire, Eaka smiled gratefully at Komsan, appreciative of his supportive attitude. "Your kindness does not go unnoticed, my friend." Komsan returned Eaka's smile, pleased to see that the younger man's spirits had begun to lift slightly.
As the two continued talking, their conversation turned increasingly intimate, fueled by the comfort they derived from sharing secrets with one another.
The topic shifted naturally towards their respective experiences in love and relationships, with Eaka divulging stories of forbidden encounters involving military personnel and secret rendezvous held in the dead of night. These tales ignited a spark of excitement within Komsan, stirring memories of his own clandestine affairs.
Within the dim light cast by the burning logs, their bodies brushed against each other subtly, sending waves of arousal coursing through their veins. Unconsciously, Eaka reached for Komsan's hand, intertwining their fingers tightly, inviting the older man to share his own adventures. And so, Komsan recounted tales of seducing fellow officers and engaging in risky trysts with women from rival factions, reveling in the thrill of transgression.
The air grew heavy with anticipation as the two men delved deeper into their shared fascination with taboo acts and erotic escapades.
Knowing full well how dangerous their situation remained, Eaka could hardly believe the extent to which his feelings for Komsan escalated. This magnetic attraction towards the older man proved irresistible, consuming every thought and action.
At last, unable to contain himself any longer, Eaka boldly proposed an idea, his heart pounding rapidly. "What if...what if we tried experiencing these fantasies together?" He hesitated briefly, fearful of appearing forward or presumptuous. But when Komsan met his gaze with undeniable interest, Eaka gathered courage, pushing forth with conviction.
"We both harbor such appetites hidden beneath our facade…why should we continue suppressing them?"
His words rang true to Komsan, whose heart began racing violently, mirroring Eaka's own agitation. The prospect of giving into their impulses excited him beyond measure, promising a level of freedom rarely encountered.
Emboldened by the other's willingness, Eaka moved closer to Komsan, leaning in eagerly as his lips brushed against the older man's ear.
"Let us explore our darkest desires together," whispered Eaka suggestively, causing shivers to course through Komsan's spine. With trembling hands, they began stripping off their clothes, shedding layers of self-restraint along with their garments.
Dressed in each other's uniforms, they stood facing one another, exchanging knowing looks that betrayed their intentions. The transformation was complete—they were no longer merely individuals but rather alter egos representing their most daring selves.
Stepping into character, Eaka assumed the role of a soldier on patrol, marching confidently towards Komsan, who played the part of a captured enemy combatant. As they locked eyes, tension surged between them, palpable in the charged atmosphere.
Desire consumed them both, driving them to act out their roles with fervor.
Eaka grabbed Komsan roughly, pinning him against the wall, demanding information from his prisoner. His voice lowered to a husky growl, evoking images of power struggles and dominance.
Komsan responded by feigning resistance, attempting to escape from Eaka's grasp. However, his efforts were futile, as Eaka's strength proved superior. Unable to resist any longer, Komsan surrendered, submitting willingly to Eaka's advances.
As they engaged in a fierce battle of wits and physicality, their uniforms served as symbols of authority and control. Each touch, each kiss, carried weight, intensified by the sense of being someone else entirely.
Clothes quickly fell away, replaced by raw desire and need.
Their mouths crashed together hungrily, tongues tangling in a dance of domination and submission. Teeth nipped playfully at tender flesh, leaving marks that would serve as reminders of their encounter later.
Eaka's hands roamed across Komsan's chiseled frame, mapping out territory already claimed and new territories ripe for conquest. Meanwhile, Komsan retaliated by trailing his fingers down Eaka's muscular torso, tracing patterns that elicited moans of pleasure from the younger man.
Bodies pressed firmly against one another, creating friction that heightened sensitivity exponentially. Breaths came in ragged gasps, punctuated by the occasional groan of satisfaction. Their movements mimicked those of skilled warriors, strategically positioning themselves for maximum impact.
Every movement seemed calculated, driven by their primal instincts to conquer and submit. The room echoed with sounds of desire and lust, punctuated by the rustle of fabric as they tossed aside their uniforms, baring themselves fully to one another.
Undeterred by the storm outside, the lovers pushed onwards, venturing ever deeper into their shared fantasy world. As the thunder rolled overhead, casting eerie shadows throughout the cabin, they abandoned all pretense of civility, allowing their baser urges to guide them.
Desperately craving release, they lost themselves in the moment, becoming completely absorbed in their roles.
Eaka took command, instructing Komsan to strip naked and assume a submissive stance. Complying without protest, Komsan obeyed dutifully, displaying his vulnerability to Eaka. As Eaka approached, his breath quickening, he couldn't help but admire the sight of Komsan kneeling before him, head bowed humbly.
Reaching out, Eaka cuffed Komsan's face, forcing him onto his back. Then, with deliberate precision, he proceeded to tease and taunt his captive, running his tongue along Komsan's neck and chest, leaving trails of wet heat behind.
Komsan quivered beneath the touch, his skin flushing hotter with each stroke. Pulling back, Eaka took stock of his prize once again, admiring the way Komsan's erection strained against his restrained confines. A small smirk crept upon Eaka's features, basking in the knowledge that he controlled the fate of this powerful man.
Drawing close once more, Eaka's fingers wrapped around Komsan's rigid member, expertly stroking it with practiced ease.
Watching the older man squirm in response, Eaka grinned triumphantly, relishing in the feeling of holding sway over someone far more experienced in matters of pleasure. His lips curved into a sinister smirk, hinting at the potential for further manipulation.
Meanwhile, Komsan observed Eaka's mastery over him with equal parts curiosity and surprise. He hadn't expected the younger man to possess such skill in bedroom gamesmanship, let alone showcase dominance in this capacity.
Yet here they were now, exploring each other like newly discovered territories, boundless frontiers begging to be charted.
Intrigued yet enthralled, Komsan submitted wholly to Eaka's lead, trusting implicitly in the young man's ability to guide them through this unknown landscape.
Sensing a change in Komsan's demeanor, Eaka seized the opportunity to deepen their connection, pressing a tender kiss upon Komsan's forehead before murmuring softly, "It is I who hold your fate, my dear captain."
Komsan replied with a quiet gasp, startled by the depth of emotion conveyed through those simple words. Tears welled up in his eyes, overwhelmed by the magnitude of the bond formed between them; a bond stronger than mere friendship or lust, something much more profound and mystical.
The more the two roleplayed together, the more Eaka's desire to become Komsan grew until it almost went through the roof. He must took Komsan's life. Eaka think.
#identity theft#steal clothes#stolen identity#clothes stolen#gay#steal uniform#uniform stolen#uniform#identity swap#male body suit#male bodysuit
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The labor movement is a capricious friend — it hands out heartbreak as much as it hands out joy. But every once in a while, it is able to wave a triumphant flag and give us all a glimmer of what its potential could truly be.
The recently concluded UAW strike offered just such a moment. It wasn’t just the contract agreements themselves, which were a material success, but also the union’s public call for movement-wide coordination to build the possibility of mass action around the May 1, 2028 expiration of the next auto contracts. “We invite unions around the country to align your contract expirations with our own so that together we can begin to flex our collective muscles,” the UAW declared on October 29.
This could be the beginning of the most exciting resurgence of American organized labor power in a century. Or, it could just be a tweet. What happens in the coming months will determine which of those things is the case.
The general feeling of a labor power resurgence since the pandemic has been fueled by a procession of high profile wins: The Starbucks and Amazon union drives, the massive organizing on college campuses, the friendly Biden administration and its uniquely pro-union NLRB, the historically high favorability of unions in public opinion polls, the periodic mini-strike waves at a variety of fed-up workplaces. This year, we have seen a trio of actions — the Teamsters backing down UPS with a credible strike threat, and the successful WGA and UAW strikes — that show what can be won with the power of strikes at a larger scale.
All of this is encouraging. All of this is evidence of a real shift in public sentiment. All of this, however, does not add up to a robust and lasting change in the balance of power between capital and labor. Right now, what we have are a bunch of discrete occurrences, a bunch of data points that amount to proof of potential.
There are two things that will determine whether or not this promising moment leads to a true, historic revival of the labor movement. The first is easily measurable: union density. Barely one in ten American workers is a union member today. Despite all of the wins just mentioned, that number has not risen in the wake of the pandemic. The primary thing that unions need to do today is to organize more union members. Without this, organized labor is a walled and shrinking garden, rather than a legitimately expansive force for society-wide change.
The second thing is related to the first, but it offers a broader menu for action: We must see some tangible coordination of action across the U.S. labor movement. It is great when one union wins a contract, or organizes an important new company, but those isolated events will not be enough to take on the combined power of trillion-dollar multinational corporations and their political allies. Not even when they involve tens or hundreds of thousands of workers. Big unions, the ones with the most resources, along with whatever non-union groups want to help them, must be able to sit down and plan and carry out big national campaigns together if we want to have any chance at winning the class war.
Amazon will never be a unionized company without an enormous, multi-union campaign. Nor will the powerful and wealthy tech industry be organized without an enormous multi-union campaign. We will never achieve the eternal goal of “organizing the South” without an enormous multi-union campaign. Nor will we ever pull off strategic general strikes without an enormous multi-union campaign.
The process of scaling up from some unions making incremental progress to a national labor movement strategically building and exercising labor power wherever and whenever it needs to, all in order to drown the monster of inequality once and for all, will require a whole lot of coordination. That sort of coordination — the sort that happens in service of movement goals, rather than those of individual (and sometimes feuding) unions — really doesn’t happen today.
Ideally, an organization like the AFL-CIO would have begun coordinating such an effort years ago. But they haven’t, and there is little evidence that they will. So unions will have to build these coalitions themselves. And that’s what made the UAW’s public call for other unions to line up their contract expiration dates with theirs so exciting.
This is not some meaningless fringe group. This is a powerful, national union with more than 400,000 active members, fresh off winning a consequential industrial strike, that is shining the Labor Movement Bat Signal high in the sky and beseeching its peers: Join us! If we get ourselves aligned, in four and a half years, we can really put the capitalists in a headlock.
There is much to love about this strategy. It is both powerful and achievable. Lining up contract dates does not require the blood, sweat, and uncertainty of huge new organizing campaigns. It is a way to make existing unions stronger by drawing their influence together into a single point. (Look at the Culinary Union in Las Vegas, currently threatening to strike the entire Las Vegas strip, for an example of what can be won with this tactic in practice.)
Doing this not just in one union or one industry but across many unions in many industries can set the stage for a mass walkout. It can make political power brokers pay attention in ways that they otherwise wouldn’t. It can captivate the public, and draw them into the fight even if they are not union members. It is a real world example of scaling up. It is not just one group of unionized workers making a demand for themselves; it offers the promise of workers in general making demands for the entire working class, backed up by the threat of a general strike. It’s not a dream. It can be done. The UAW is exactly the sort of credible organization that can be the launching point.
Realistically, the UAW and its allies need to convince many of their fellow big unions that this is a real goal within the next six months.
What it will take is other major unions taking this call seriously. Most union contracts are three years long, give or take. That means that unions must begin planning for this now. Contracts that are negotiated in 2024 and 2025 need to set their expiration dates for May 1, 2028. Realistically, the UAW and its allies need to convince many of their fellow big unions that this is a real goal within the next six months. There should be furious inter-union lobbying already taking place. The more radical unions, who have an actual vision, should publicly sign onto this plan in the near future, and then they should fan out and try to draw in the less radical unions, by arguing that this action is low-risk common sense. It’s a good argument!
The bigger this gets, the stronger it is, and the more it helps every union. And the more it helps every union, the more leverage it gives this broader coalition of unions to make larger demands that will benefit everyone in the working class, unionized or not. Union leaders need to be made to see the virtues of this argument soon. The case then needs to be made to individual units, and to individual workers, who will have to decide that they want their own contracts to be a part of this strategy.
There is not a lot of time to waste. But on a more positive note, this is a uniquely plausible opportunity for a historic boost in organized labor power. The path to achieving this goal is very straightforward, and there is no part of it that is not within the capabilities of existing unions, their organizing staff and current members. It does not require finding a huge amount of new resources. It just requires today’s unions to have a little vision, and to be willing to work together.
Sometimes, ironically, those qualities are in short supply in the labor movement. But there is no reason we can’t stop being our own worst enemy, right now. Big things are on the table. Let’s reach out and take them.
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A personal pet peeve of mine is the take that Arthur’s mistake in 5x05 was trusting Merlin over his own better judgment, meanwhile Merlin was acting purely out of a desire to protect Arthur (as his friend) at the cost of any chance at magic going free.
Like, first of all, Arthur’s ‘better judgment’ was not telling him that magic should be free. That whole speech leading up to him asking Merlin what he should do was all about the harm magic has done and how it’s taken everything from him, and then at the end he tacks on “but idk maybe it’s not pure evil”. It’s a somewhat weak (from his perspective) rationalization for saving Mordred at the cost of “magic reigning in Camelot once again” - something he fears.
Could Merlin have convinced Arthur to accept the Disir’s deal? Maybe, maybe not. We’ve seen throughout the show- and even just in this episode- that Arthur takes Merlin’s advice to heart sometimes but also often dismisses it out of hand, or hears him out but still ultimately disagrees. Which is fine and normal, but it means that just saying “Merlin should have convinced him” ignores Arthur’s agency in making the decision.
I think it’s noteworthy that Merlin spends the majority of the episode before that point trying to get Arthur to take the Old Religion seriously. He warns him not to bring weapons into a sacred space. He points out that Osgar- a sorcerer- absolutely could have killed Arthur but chose not to. He smiles for the first time in three days when Arthur asks if he should take the Disir seriously and Merlin replies that he already is.
And speaking of Merlin’s goals: Obviously, his treatment of Mordred throughout this season is both deeply unfair and highly counterproductive; I’m not arguing that point. But I simply don’t understand the reading that it’s driven solely by his love for Arthur (whether romantic or platonic) and not at all his faith in their shared destiny. Because I don’t think that his feelings towards Arthur are extricable from Arthur’s prophesied role in bringing about the Golden Age and returning magic to the land.
I understand that “magic has no place in Camelot” is a very hard-line statement — one that undoubtedly sets back the pro-magic agenda. He didn’t have to do all that. But I still don’t necessarily believe this signals him “giving up” on ending magical oppression in the long term. He’s banking on the sequence of events the prophecies have supposedly laid out: [1] keep Arthur alive (by removing perceived threats), [2] show him tangible evidence that magic can be used for good (see: Dragoon, the Dolma, etc.), [3] Albion!!
Arguably the most significant part of that plan is that Arthur genuinely comes to believe in magic’s potential for good. Which is not what would be happening if he was forced to legalize it for Mordred’s sake. Doing it that way would provide very little security for magic users because [a] it could easily be undone (especially if Mordred did end up killing Arthur) and [b] it means Arthur would have very little incentive to actually enforce any new laws protecting sorcerers.
So, yeah, Merlin is a dick to Mordred. He loses out on chances to connect outside of a very few rare moments and repeatedly leaves him to fend for himself in dangerous situations. I hate that; I wish it didn’t have to be that way, even though it makes sense that the deeply traumatized and paranoid Merlin we see in S5 is making these calls.
But Merlin is not selfishly and single-handedly responsible for throwing away the lives of all his fellow oppressed magic-users out of blind love for Arthur Pendragon. He’s not innocent, and he’s certainly not without flaws, but he’s not That either.
#bbc merlin#5x05#the disir#i’m sorry for ranting but it bugs me!!#i love so much abt this ep because merlin is so visibly Pissed abt the knights’ behavior#when arthur asks if he hasn’t gotten rid of the injustices of the past#and there’s an audible pause before merlin SO grudgingly answers#‘…you have.’#homeboy is three seconds away from saying something he’ll regret#but then softens when arthur starts speaking more earnestly#I mean come on#look me in the eye and tell me he’s given up on magic
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The Undead Adventurer (4)
When an interrupted resurrection spell leaved Danny halfway between life and death, his adventuring career should have been over. But Danny Fenton won't let something as minor as being regularly mistaken for a member of a zombie horde, or kidnapped by an unknowable monster of death stop him from becoming the strongest adventurer in the world with his best friends by his side.
For the following prompts:
His head spun. He couldn’t see past the light above him. What was it? [from @q-gorgeous]
Fantasy/rpg setting. Danny died, but the resurrection spell went wrong, and now he’s trapped as something not quite dead but not fully alive either. Not that he’d ever let that stop him from becoming an adventurer, even if he does get mistaken as a resident dungeon monster by other adventuring parties every now and then… [from @lexiepiper]
Danny catches the eye of something he shouldn't. (Eldritch affection or soft horror encouraged) [from Ventisette Stars]
Read also on AO3
Chapter 4: Living Thing, Dead Thing (first chapter | previous)
[Warnings for eldritch and psychological horror, and violence]
The deeper they traversed into the dungeon, the stronger the feeling of being watched became.
The next time they ran into zombies—though there were far fewer than the last horde—he ordered them to stand still and be silent while the trio took them out. That did nothing to help the unpleasant sensation Danny was struggling with.
The next zombie they crossed paths with, Danny ordered to just leave them alone, and they passed it by, allowing it to keep shambling along and inevitably attack the next group of adventurers that came its way. If anything, that just made the sensation even worse.
Growing increasingly anxious, Danny asked his friends if they felt it too, but evidently neither of them did, because they just looked at him funny and shook their heads.
If it was just him then... was he imagining it? Or did something have its eye on him specifically?
After three days of that intense feeling, Danny didn't want to go to sleep, even with one of his friend's keeping watch. They insisted he was just being paranoid, but he couldn't believe that, no matter how much he wanted to. Something was watching him. He had no idea what its motives could be—if it was waiting for him to do something, or waiting to attack him when he let his guard down. But it was watching him, and it was watching very closely.
Still, his friends urged him to sleep, reminding him that he wouldn't be able to fight very well exhausted if there really was something watching him, and it really did try to attack. He tried. He really tried.
But sleep wouldn't come.
It didn't come the next night either.
After the second night with absolutely no sleep, Danny's movements were sluggish and sloppy. He could fly now, and yet his team was still carrying him. It was embarrassing to say the least, but also extremely concerning, considering the unspoken threat lingering over him, watching him all the time.
Finally, the next night, he simply couldn't stay awake anymore, whether he wanted to or not, and after an hour of vigilant waiting, he drifted off at last.
He awoke in darkness.
It wasn't regular darkness.
The entire dungeon was dark, but it was nothing like this oppressive, tangible darkness that now surrounded him. Since the lich, he'd been able to see in darkness, but he couldn't see anything at all. It was as if his eyes were closed, but there was nothing he could do to open them and look at his surroundings.
It was warm, contrary to cool corridors in the rest of the dungeon, and eerily silent, like all the sound was being swallowed up by the dark. There was a strange smell in the air, too, thick, and so dizzyingly sweet it made his head spin. He would almost believe he was dreaming if it didn't feel so terrifyingly real.
Then there was a light above him.
It appeared suddenly, and even though it glowed so brightly, it didn't illuminate anything else, so he still saw nothing past it. It just floated there, glowing like anything, moving slowly. Danny had no idea what it was, but it seemed almost alive, and that left a claw of fear gripping his lungs.
Then... the light blinked.
Danny inhaled sharply and opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out. It too was swallowed through the darkness which enforced a silence more complete and unbreakable than any Danny had yet experienced.
It was an eye.
An enormous, glowing eye.
It blinked again.
A thin, white line appeared below it, growing longer and wider until Danny could see a horrible smile. A smile full of glowing white teeth, each one as sharp as Danny's sword and almost as long, in a mouth easily as wide as Danny was tall.
This... thing... whatever it was... wouldn't have had any trouble eating Danny, armor and all.
But instead, it was smiling at him. A smile that... despite all its terrifying features, gave off an aura of comfort.
"Hello, living thing, dead thing," it said. It's strangely accented voice a rumbling whisper, so soft that Danny could only barely hear it, but so powerful that he felt his body and everything around him tremble from the force.
"What are you?" he demanded through gritted teeth. He wasn't the type to be frozen in fear. His mind and body screamed at him to draw his sword and fight this thing, whatever it was, but he couldn't move. It was as if he'd been paralyzed somehow.
"I am called Pariah Dark," the something said. "I am the king of all dead things."
"Are you... mad about me killing your zombies?" Danny guessed.
"No, of course not," the king replied. "They were dead already and so they remain. My subjects will be mine forever. Whatever form it takes, death is always extant once it appears. You are mine too, but you are different, living thing, dead thing."
"Danny," internally the boy cursed himself. What if the kind was some kind of Fae? He'd be screwed. "You may call me Danny." Would that be enough to cover him? Danny was only a nickname, at least, so maybe he'd have been safe either way.
"Prince," the king said.
Danny's muscles tensed. "What?"
"I have been searching for eons to find a successor, and you are perfect, Danny, Prince, living thing, dead thing."
Danny had never wanted so badly to draw his blade, but he still could not move. He felt something caress his face in the dark, ever so gently. He wondered if this darkness wasn't just darkness, but rather the king's form. An all-consuming black that no light could penetrate.
"Woah, woah, woah, I can't be the prince of death, I'm not even dead!"
"Yes you are." The king's smile widened. The whole time they'd been speaking, he hadn't opened his mouth or moved his lips.
The darkness ruffled Danny's hair fondly.
"But I'm alive!"
"I won't hold that against you."
What could Danny do? How could he possibly get out of this and back to hid friends? How had he even gotten himself into this situation?
"Why me?" Danny asked. "What exactly do you want from me?"
"You have seen the truth of death like no other has, though you do not realize it yet, and you are still of your own mind," the king explained. "Be my successor and share in my duties in the hereafter and the land of the living."
Danny tried to shake his head, but still, he couldn't move a muscle. What truth of death? What duties?
"I have been sealed in the hereafter," the king explained. "I can exert no influence over the living, even those who have cheated death with spells. You can. I can make you more powerful than you can imagine, if you will be my prince of all dead things."
"I just want to go back to my friends and back to my life," Danny said. "Please your majesty."
The king made a rumbling humming sound. "Very well, my prince," he said at last. "You may travel with them as I train you. They with be unable to see me, in any case."
"What?"
Suddenly, Danny snapped to wakefulness. Had that all just been some horrifying dream?
"Danny? Are you alright?" Sam asked. If she was on watch now, it had to be close to morning.
"I... I'm...."
That omnipresent feeling of being watched hadn't faded, but it had changed. It was as sinister anymore, not as hungry. Instead, it felt... comforting, protective, even... affectionate, if that was possible.
He looked around the unlit corridor, and he could see perfectly fine. But the shadows seemed darker somehow, so that in the shadowy corners, his sight could not pierce through.
His dream had not been a dream. The king of death was real, and following him, and watching him. It seemed he was the prince of death now, whether he wanted to be or not.
"I'm fine," he assured Sam. "I'll be fine."
There was no need to worry her about it, or Tucker. If they couldn't see the too-dark darkness, or feel the king's single eye on them, they wouldn't understand, anyway. They'd just think he was losing it and try to force him to retire again.
Everything would... probably be fine.
Although Danny anticipated having some pretty unsettling dreams from now on.
#danny phantom#dp#danny fenton#sam manson#tucker foley#fic#things i wrote#fantasy au#eldritch horror#phic phight#phic phight 24#the undead adventurer#zombies
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The Phoenix Rises: Chapter 6
Pairing: Older!Remus Lupin x Professor!Fem!Reader
Series Masterlist
Plot Summary: Starting your third year at Hogwarts as the Charms professor proves to be difficult without having Remus by your side as you face new and irritating challenges at work, as well as joining a secret society.
A/N: I know I promised this to be out like two days ago, however, I had a minor writer's block episode and had no idea where I wanted this to go. Hopefully, you can forgive me and enjoy this chapter!
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The days that followed your abrupt departure from Remus were consumed by a relentless wave of work. The initial rush of anger and hurt had given way to a persistent sense of emptiness. The more you buried yourself in tasks, the more you began to question whether you had overreacted. Remus's letters, filled with apologies and pleas to talk, piled up on your desk, but every attempt to respond ended with you staring at a blank parchment, unsure of what to say.
Weeks passed in a monotonous blur of routine. The exhaustion from the constant workload, combined with the loneliness that now seemed to permeate every aspect of your life, weighed heavily on your shoulders. Remus's absence left a void that not even the distraction of work could fill.
The situation at Hogwarts took a turn for the worse. Dolores Umbridge, now deemed the Hogwarts High Inquisitor by Fudge, asserted her control over the school with an iron grip. The position seemed absurd and unnecessary in your opinion, but Dolores's influence continued to grow. She initiated interviews with everyone, and you couldn't shake the feeling that it was only a matter of time until she targeted you.
The stress at work escalated, the looming threat of dismissal hanging over you like a dark cloud. The once vibrant and welcoming Hogwarts now felt like a place of constant tension and uncertainty. Each passing day intensified your yearning for the familiar warmth of Remus's presence, but pride and lingering hurt kept you from reaching out.
As the weeks turned into a seemingly endless cycle of misery, you couldn't help but reflect on the choices that led you to this point. The ache in your heart grew, and the realization that you might lose not only Remus but also your place at Hogwarts added an extra layer of despair to your already troubled mind. In the solitude of your office, you found yourself longing for resolution, a way to mend the fractured pieces of your life.
You sat at your meticulously organized desk, its polished surface marred by scattered parchment and ink stains, a visual representation of the internal chaos that consumed you. The quill trembled in your hand as you attempted to compose a response to Remus's letters. Each tear-stained word blurred the ink on the parchment, a tangible testament to the emotional turmoil that gripped your very being.
A sudden knock echoed through the room, interrupting the solitude that had become both your refuge and your prison. Startled, you hastily wiped away the evidence of your vulnerability and cleared your throat before granting permission for the unseen visitor to enter. The heavy door swung open, revealing the unexpected presence of Dumbledore.
His entrance was marked not by surprise but by an understanding that transcended words. Dumbledore's gentle eyes held no judgment, only a deep awareness of the toll recent events had exacted upon you. Despite the dread that filled the room, you found a sense of comfort in welcoming him.
Dumbledore settled into the chair before your desk, his wise eyes meeting yours with a compassion that seemed to reach beyond the surface. "I understand," he spoke softly, acknowledging the emotional maelstrom that raged within you. "Remus has written to me."
The conversation unfolded like a delicate dance between shared confessions and unspoken pain. The anger resurfaced, yet beneath its fiery surface, a seed of understanding began to germinate. You bared your soul to Dumbledore, confessing the wish that you could have done more, grappling with the foolishness of your obliviousness to the secrets that had burdened Remus. The narrative unfolded, revealing the push and pull, the gradual distancing that had fractured your once-close connection.
Dumbledore listened with a patient empathy that transcended mere acknowledgment. "I know it's hard," he admitted, his demeanor compassionate and understanding. Leaning forward, he fixed his piercing blue eyes upon your face. "But I need you to join the Order. I need strong, loyal people—individuals I can trust. They are becoming far and few between, and your strength, your dedication, would be invaluable in these trying times."
Dumbledore's gaze remained steady, a beacon of wisdom in the storm of your emotions. "I know this revelation is overwhelming, my dear. The burdens we carry often shape us in unexpected ways," he spoke, his voice a soothing balm to the raw wounds of your soul. "But your strength is undeniable, and your willingness to face this truth head-on speaks volumes about the kind of person you are."
You nodded, grateful for his understanding even as the weight of the decision ahead settled upon you. "It's just… everything happened so fast, and now I feel like I'm standing at a crossroads," you confessed, your voice carrying the weight of uncertainty.
Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, his expression contemplative. "Life has a way of presenting us with choices when we least expect it. The Order needs individuals who can navigate these challenges with courage and resilience," he said, his eyes searching yours for a sign of resolve.
Taking a deep breath, you found the strength to voice the question that lingered in your mind. "Why me, Headmaster? Why now?"
Dumbledore's response carried a weight of responsibility. "The times we live in demand courage from us all. You possess qualities that are crucial in the face of adversity. Remus believes in your strength, and so do I. The Order is not just a collective of powerful wizards; it's a fellowship bound by courage, loyalty, and the unwavering commitment to stand against darkness."
As you absorbed his words, a newfound determination began to stir within you. "I won't let you down," you declared, your voice steadier than before. "I'll join the Order and do whatever it takes to make a difference."
With a purposeful expression, Dumbledore reached into his robes and pulled out a small note. "Here," he said, handing it to you. "This will guide you to our headquarters. 12 Grimmauld Place in London. Burn it as soon as possible, and make sure to be there on Friday evening, right after your last class."
You took the note, your heart pounding with a newfound sense of purpose. "How should I get there?" you asked, eager to follow through on this commitment.
Dumbledore leaned in, his eyes locking onto yours. "Do not use the Floo Network," he emphasized. "Apparate to King's Cross Station. Alastor Moody will be there to collect you."
You absorbed the information, the details sinking in as you mentally prepared for the journey ahead. "Thank you, Professor," you said, your voice filled with gratitude and determination.
Dumbledore gave you a reassuring smile. "You are doing a great service, my dear. Remember, your strength lies not only in your magical abilities but in your unwavering loyalty and courage."
"Thank you, Albus," you say softly, a small smile forming your lips--the first one in a while.
With a final nod, Dumbledore rose from the chair, leaving you with a weight on your shoulders that seemed both heavier and more manageable, knowing that you were stepping onto a path where your strength would be tested, and your loyalty would be unwavering.
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Friday arrived sooner than expected, and despite the stressful week, you hadn't written to Remus, wanting to surprise him with your sudden appearance. However, you managed to sneak away to Hogsmeade to gather an ungodly amount of chocolate bars from Honeydukes, along with a new sweater and a Muggle book you spotted at Flourish and Blotts. Deciding to take an overnight bag just in case, you stuffed it with Remus's gifts, some clothes, and other necessities. With your wand in hand, you Apparated to King's Cross.
Navigating through the bustling crowd, you quickly spotted Alastor's distinctive figure. His large frame and magical eye made him stand out, and you saw wary glances from passing Muggles. Waving at him, he responded with a small grunt before motioning for you to follow him to a more secluded spot.
As you and Alastor walked through the crowded King's Cross, he spoke with a gruff tone, his magical eye scanning the surroundings for any signs of danger. "You're late," he grunted without looking at you.
"Sorry, Alastor," you replied, a touch of nervousness in your voice. "I had to make sure I wasn't followed."
He merely nodded, his focus unwavering. "Smart move. Always watch your back."
You caught sight of Alastor's magical eye twitching around, observing the people around you. "So, how's Remus really doing?" you asked, trying to keep the conversation light.
"Mopin'," he said simply.
"Moping?" you inquired, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.
"Yeah, moping. Brooding over something or other," Alastor responded, his magical eye flickering as it surveyed the surroundings. "Annoying, if you ask me."
A mix of concern and curiosity stirred within you. "Why do you think he's been like that?" you questioned, trying to gauge if Alastor had any insights into Remus's mysterious behavior.
Alastor huffed, his breath forming a visible cloud in the cool air. "Missing you, I reckon. Can't seem to shake off whatever's bothering him."
Your eyes widened slightly at the revelation. Remus missing you was both heartwarming and perplexing. "Does he know I'm coming?" you asked, deciding to keep the surprise under wraps a little longer.
Alastor shook his head, his grizzled features expressing a mix of frustration and hope. "No, and it's high time someone pulled him out of this funk. Maybe your surprise visit will do the trick. He could use a bit of cheering up."
You smiled at the thought, appreciating the grizzled Auror's straightforwardness. "Well, I hope so. It's been a challenging week."
"Challenging is an understatement in our line of work," he grumbled. "But you seem tougher than most."
As Alastor checked over his shoulder to make sure no one was, he summoned two brooms. You eyed the broom with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. "It's been a while since I've flown," you admitted.
"Nothing like a bit of airborne freedom. Follow my lead, and you'll be just fine," Alastor assured you.
Once in the air, you found your confidence returning, and the wind rushing past felt invigorating. "This is incredible!" you exclaimed, and even Alastor managed a gruff chuckle.
You followed him to a massive building after your feet reached the ground. Initially, you noticed the absence of number 12, but as the building expanded, it came into view. Alastor walked in, and you quickly followed behind him.
The interior of 12 Grimmauld Place was a mix of haunting memories and an undeniable air of secrecy. The faded elegance of the Black family home held a certain dark allure. Alastor led you through the gloomy corridors, eventually arriving at a room where you could sense a flicker of warmth and familiarity.
As you walked, you couldn't help but ask, "How did you end up involved with the Order again, Moody?"
He glanced at you with a glint of nostalgia in his magical eye. "Old habits die hard, especially when there's a fight worth fighting. Dumbledore knows I can't resist a good battle."
Sirius Black heard the front door of him home open. Curious, he stood from his chair and walked out to the hallway, seeing who else had arrived. Spotting you, his face broke into a boyish grin.
Sirius's tall frame filled the doorway, and as Alastor pushed himself inside the room, you found yourself standing in the hallway, taking in the scene. The door opened into a dimly lit space where a group of people sat around a table, engaged in hushed conversations. Recognizing the familiar faces, you felt a mix of nerves and excitement.
Sirius nodded at Alastor, acknowledging the arrival, before opening his arms wide in a welcoming gesture. Without hesitation, you rushed into Sirius's embrace, the warmth of his familiar presence enveloping you. "I missed you," he confessed, holding you a little tighter.
"I missed you too," you replied, leaning back to look at his face. You were pleased to see that he was looking healthier than the last time you had seen him.
Sirius, ever the blunt one, leaned back against the doorframe, a smirk playing on his lips. "Remus has been a real joy to be around lately," he quipped.
You chuckled at the understatement, teasingly saying, "Moping, short-tempered, and moody? Alastor told me all about it on the way here."
Sirius let out an exasperated groan. "Yes! It's like living with a teenager going through their angst phase."
You couldn't help but laugh at Sirius's dramatic description, the tension from the week slowly dissipating in the presence of your friend's humor. "Well, I brought an overdose of chocolate and a new sweater for him. Maybe that'll lift his spirits."
Sirius grinned, appreciating the effort. "You might just be the remedy he needs. Though, personally, I'm counting on you to bring back some semblance of sanity to this place." As Sirius playfully nudged you towards the room, you couldn't help but feel a surge of nerves at seeing Remus for the first time in a while.
As you stepped into the room, the animated conversations around the table ceased abruptly. All eyes turned towards you, creating a momentary pause as the surprise settled in. Remus, however, was the first to react. His eyes widened in disbelief, and he stood up abruptly, whispering your name with a mixture of shock and joy.
In a swift motion, Remus rushed towards you, closing the distance between you two. His arms enveloped you in a tight embrace, a mixture of relief and happiness evident in the way he held you. "I can't believe you're here," he whispered into your hair, the words carrying a blend of astonishment and sheer delight.
Sensing the need for some privacy to navigate the complexities of the situation, you gently suggested, "Remus, let's step into the hallway for a moment. I'd like to talk."
Remus nodded, his eyes still reflecting a mix of emotions. With an apologetic glance at the others in the room, he led you into the hallway, where the ambient light spilled in from the room behind. The door closed behind you, providing a semblance of seclusion for your conversation.
Once in the hallway, Remus maintained a gentle grip on your arms, his eyes searching yours for an understanding of the whirlwind of emotions that accompanied your unexpected arrival. "I didn't know you were coming," he admitted, a mixture of surprise and concern in his voice.
"I wanted to surprise you," you explained, offering a small smile to reassure him. "But it seems there's a lot we need to talk about."
Remus nodded, releasing a breath he seemed to have been holding. "I've missed you so much, and I should have told you about everything sooner."
You looked at him, a mix of frustration and understanding in your gaze. "Remus, I'm not upset about joining the Order. I wanted to. I'm upset because you didn't trust me enough to tell me. We're supposed to be a team, facing everything together."
Remus sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I know, and I should have trusted you. It's just…everything is getting more dangerous, and I wanted to protect you."
You nodded, realizing the depth of his concern, but determined to bridge the gap that had formed between you. "Remus, we can face this together. But I need you to trust me."
He looked into your eyes, remorse and determination mingling in his gaze. "I promise, from now on, no more secrets. We'll face everything together."
He pulled you close, your lips ghosting his. "I love you," he whispered, his voice filled with sincerity. You mirrored the sentiment, reassuring him of your love.
Before you knew it, you both were surging forward, capturing his lips to yours. As the intensity between you grew, the kiss deepened, fueled by the emotions that had been kept at bay for far too long. The world around you faded away, leaving only the warmth of each other's presence.
Just as the atmosphere between you two became more heated, a sudden, awkward cough pierced the bubble of intimacy. Startled, you and Remus pulled away from each other, a shared embarrassment coloring your expressions. The source of the interruption was a young woman with bright pink hair.
"Ahem, sorry to break up the party," Tonks grinned, mischief dancing in her eyes. "But the meeting's about to start. Dumbledore is waiting, and we wouldn't want to keep him waiting, would we?"
You and Remus exchanged sheepish glances, realizing the necessity of regaining composure. "Right, of course," Remus stammered, his cheeks tinted with a rosy hue. You couldn't help but chuckle nervously in response.
"Name's Tonks," she said, sticking out a hand to you. You give her your name, returning the gesture, shaking her hand.
As you walked past Tonks to rejoin the others in the meeting room, you caught a glimpse of her looking at Remus with an intensity that went beyond a casual glance. You pushed the thought back as you took Remus's hand in yours, sitting down next to him. You felt a frown settle on your face as Tonks took a seat next to him.
Tonks's lingering gaze on Remus during the meeting had not gone unnoticed. The way she observed him seemed more than just casual interest, and a subtle unease settled within you.
As the meeting continued, Dumbledore provided updates on recent sightings of Death Eaters and their activities. The atmosphere in the room grew tense as he discussed the increasing frequency of dark magic disturbances and the potential signs of Voldemort's resurgence.
Moody began detailing the increased movement of dark forces. "Got reports of suspicious activity near Diagon Alley," he grumbled. "And a couple of Death Eater sightings in Hogsmeade. Nasty business is picking up again."
A murmur of concern rippled through the room as the members of the Order absorbed the grim news. Sirius, leaning against a wall, crossed his arms and scowled. "Can't say I missed this part of the action," he remarked dryly.
Dumbledore, his expression grave, addressed the gathering. "The resurgence of Death Eater activity is not unexpected. Voldemort is regaining strength, and his followers are becoming bolder. We must remain cautious and act swiftly to counter their moves."
Tonks, who had been unusually quiet, interjected, "I've heard rumors about a gathering at Malfoy Manor. Might be worth looking into." Her eyes flickered towards Remus, a subtle tension in the air.
The gravity of the situation settled over the room as everyone absorbed the information. Dumbledore urged the members of the Order to remain vigilant and emphasized the importance of unity in the face of the growing threat.
Throughout the meeting, your attention involuntarily gravitated toward Tonks whenever she spoke. There was an indescribable unease lingering in your gut, a feeling that something about her presence didn't sit right with you. As she discussed various sightings and activities, your mind couldn't shake the suspicion that there might be more to Tonks than met the eye.
While the others engaged in the conversation, your gaze subtly followed Tonks's movements. The way she interacted with Remus, her seemingly deliberate attempts to be close to him, only fueled your discomfort. It was as if an invisible thread connected her to him, and the unease within you grew with each passing moment.
Remus, sensing your distraction, shot you a concerned look. His presence provided a reassuring anchor, but the feeling of suspicion toward Tonks lingered. As the meeting progressed, you couldn't shake the nagging doubt that there might be hidden motives behind Tonks's actions.
#remus lupin#remus x reader#remus lupin x you#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin x y/n#older!remus lupin#older!remus lupin x reader#older!remus lupin x y/n#older!remus lupin x you#sirius black#harry potter#hermione granger#ron weasley#order of the phoenix
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HYPNOTIZED!
falling in love w owen hcs
gender neutral reader
Perhaps the fickle nature of a cat sums up Owen’s relationship to you the best. Normally anyone would cower at the face of a powerful Northern wizard, especially given the horrible sadistic streak that Owen fosters. Chasing away people comes like second-nature to him. All he needs to do is make a scary face and a threat, and even the haughtiest of wizards go scrambling with their tail tucked between their legs. But you don’t, for whatever reason. You stand your ground and even willingly visit him, no matter how many times Owen mutters that he’ll rip you apart limb from limb.
It frustrates Owen to no end that you’re not afraid of him. He can barely understand himself, so it tortures him to try and understand someone else. He’s used to the glimpses of fear flashing in everyone’s eyes, and he revels in making people cry. Yet here you are, waving at him as if he were your best friend and smiling at him whenever he had the misfortune of catching your attention. This kind of affection is foreign to him. It sickens him how awkward and unfamiliar he is with the tightening in his chest, and he mistakenly chalks up his feelings to be that of hatred.
It takes everything in him not to lash out at you. Had he been left to his own devices, it would only be a matter of time before Owen explodes. He’d let that childish selfishness in him snap, refusing to confront how he feels in lieu for the only way he’s ever known on dealing with his feelings. It takes the effort of every wizard around him to keep Owen contained, and twins chastise him deeply for acting immaturely. Owen simply doesn’t get it; if something’s bothering him, isn’t it only right that he gets rid of it? He hates dealing with something as volatile and fickle as his own heart, and he’d much rather take it out on someone tangible than work through something he can’t figure out.
And like a prophecy waiting to take root, his feelings accelerate and grow into something greater than what he can comprehend. Owen can barely stand the physical symptoms taking hold of his body. Why do his eyes shake when he sees you? Why does his mouth go dry? Why can’t he go to sleep at night? Why is every one of his waking moments consumed by thoughts of you? His obsession and desire towards you grow to the point that they’re torturing him, yet he’d rather die than come crawling to you like some spineless loser to beg for your attention.
Whether or not you’re aware of his emotions, you still greet him with the same love and affection you’ve shown him since day one. Like you’re approaching a stray cat, you’re always so gentle and kind with him, and just like a stray cat, once Owen realizes that he physically can’t go on without you in his vicinity, he starts bearing his heart slowly too. He would never snuggle up to you or compliment you in the same lighthearted way Southern wizards might, but the prideful mage goes from ignoring you or threatening you to muttering back a greeting or even coyly teasing you if his mood is particularly good.
Confessions aren’t a thing in Owen’s book. Even if it takes a million years for him to actually come to terms with the fact that he’s fallen violently in love, Owen still marches to the beat of his own drum. If he wants something, he’ll simply take it. In good Northern fashion, the moment you toss a glimmer of hope towards Owen, he’ll wrench his chance out straight from your hands and dig his way straight into your heart. He loves greedily, dedicatedly, and selfishly, but being loved by him is both a privilege and a risk that Owen desperately wants you to gamble on in the same way that he placed his vulnerable bets on you.
Owen never promises you a happy ending or a fairy tale romance, but what he does give you is something that no one else in the world can ever replicate. His love for you is one of curiosity and discovery, and he hopes that you’re unlocking parts of yourself that you didn’t even know existed. He still finds it fun to make your face morph between that of your happy self and indulging his cruel demeanor, yet the way he whisks you away on his broom and keeps you for himself reminds you more of a starved lover than that of the infamously notorious wizard. Owen doesn’t care what horrid things others might say of him—he has you, and he’s determined to have you forever.
“Do you hate me? Fufu, you look so scared. Any sane person would be scared out of their mind if a Northern wizard just went and took them away. Hey, don’t worry. I’ve kept you alive this entire time, haven’t I? See? I can be nice when I want.”
x
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CC Batch Aurek: Abregado
one | two
this fought me so hard but HEY through the power of Maybe-Force-Maybe-Eldritch Shenanigans i have decided to improve the outcome of the 104th v the Malevolence.
not by a lot, but still.
---
Nax knew it wasn't his place to question his superior officers, but they seemed very worked up over something that was easily verified.
"--in the Abregado system when we lost contact--"
Nax stepped away from the communications room to pull up his comm, leaving the Council and the Chancellor to debate whether his brothers were worth rescuing. It was still early into second shift, which meant that most of first shift had probably only just made it to sleep, which mostly meant--
"I swear," Rex growled, "On Prime's fucking cock, if this isn't an emergency--"
"Commander Wolffe might be in trouble," Nax blurted, because Rex tended to keep his threats. "Can you, uh, check on him?"
Nobody really knew how the Aurek batch worked--including, apparently, Aurek themselves--and while the lack of tangible evidence drove Coric up the wall, it was already proven that they were somehow connected.
Admittedly, the 'proof' came in the form of Rex getting incredibly drunk, predicting how his adopted batchers were feeling, and then comming them to prove it, so it was slightly suspect. But the only one he'd gotten wrong had been Commander Fox, who'd spent a good fifteen minutes threatening them with discipline and dismemberment for interrupting his work, which had only resulted in Rex grinning dopily at the holo.
There was a short pause on the other end of the call while Rex presumably did his mystical feely powers banthashit, but the sharp intake of air told Nax all he needed to know.
"General Koon called asking for reinforcements in the Abregado system," he reported without prompting as he heard the familiar sound of armor being hastily donned. "The comm was cut off, and we haven't been able to reestablish communications. They were after intel on that new Sep weapon."
"Then the survivors don't have long," Rex said grimly. His voice became clearer, shifting from a wrist comm to helmet speakers. "I'll go mobilize a squad; tell the General to meet me in the hangar."
"Yessir."
Nax cut the call and made his way back to the communications room.
"--absence of distress beacons indicate that his fleet was--"
"Sirs," he interrupted, standing at sharp attention, "At least some of the 104th has survived. Captain Rex is currently assembling a rescue team in the hangar."
There was a brief moment of utter silence. Then:
"Rex," General Skywalker breathed.
"Oh," General Kenobi said. He covered his eyes with one hand. "Oh, of course. I hadn't even thought about asking Cody."
"I'll lead some of the gunships over to the Abregado system to pick up the survivors," Skywalker announced, a new determined set to his shoulders. "Admiral Yularen will stay the course to keep watch on our supply lines, and we'll catch up as soon as we've retrieved the Wolfpack."
"I'm sorry," the Chancellor interjected, "But where is this intel coming from? Anakin, I know your heart is in the right place, but we cannot risk resources on the mere chance that there could be survivors."
"It's not just a chance," Skywalker said firmly. "Rex knows that at least Commander Wolffe is alive. And even if it's just him, any witnesses to how the weapon works would be worth it."
"You're basing this off the word of a clone?"
All five Jedi turned their attention to the Chancellor, radiating judgment. Nax smirked from behind the safety of his helmet.
"No offense intended to your Captain, of course," the Chancellor said hastily. "But, Councilors, you must see that this is an unwise decision--"
"No, Anakin has a point," General Kenobi interrupted, stroking his beard. "If Captain Rex says that Commander Wolffe is alive, that definitely means there are survivors out there."
"And how does the Captain know that?"
"It has to do with their batch," Kenobi explained. "They are a very unique group of clones--my own Commander Cody is part of it as well--"
Permission implicitly--if not expressly--given, Skywalker slapped the button to disconnect the call before he could be told otherwise, and immediately headed out of the comm room.
"Snips, go with Rex, get the rescue team going ASAP. I'll follow you in the Twilight. Admiral Yularen, we have new orders..."
Nax watched them go, a tight knot of tension loosening in his chest. He pulled up his comm again.
"The Commander's on her way, sir," he reported. "You'll take the squad and depart ASAP; General Skywalker will catch up in his ship."
"Understood. We'll be underway as soon as Commander Tano gets here."
"Captain, if you can..."
Nax hesitated, the words sticking in his throat, because it was a stupid request, but--
"I'll do everything I can to find your batchmates," Rex promised gently, his voice losing its crisp edge. "If they're alive, we'll bring them home."
Nax exhaled shakily.
"Thank you, sir."
He didn't know if the Jedi always had their best interests at heart--and was almost positive that the Senate didn't--but Nax knew that he could always depend on his brothers. That they would look out for each other, even if no one else cared.
(Only thirty troopers made it out of the destruction. Only thirty, out of six hundred, remained of the 104th Battalion.
But two of them were Sinker and Boost, and later, if Nax wept out of relief and selfish joy that at least they survived, he knew that his brothers understood.)
#tcw#tcw fanfiction#cc batch aurek#clone trooper nax#captain rex#i know next to nothing about nax aside from the fact he made me feel Emotions via backstory of the kenobi show#so now he gets batchmates. as a treat.
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what is your absolute favorite ship? And feel free to rant about it!
love getting this ask from someone who i know does not ship this-
let me preface this by saying CAITLIN AND FROST ARE NOT FUCKING SISTERS. supercorp called themselves sisters and no one bought it then. i do not, will not see them as real, tangible siblings- blood-related or otherwise. I hate how they tried to retcon Thomas as being a loving father to both women- go home, later seasons of the arrowverse, you're fucking drunk! Frost was a fucking science experiment to him and nothing fucking more! She was a side effect to a solution for Cait's potential of developing ALS and he treated her as such, CANONICALLY. Icicle was not narratively treated as Thomas' brother so I don't fucking get why they decided to force a sisterhood between the Snow System. Somebody else always labeled their relationship as sisterly before they ever fucking did, and I think canon-wise they both sort of caved to the pressure of trying to be what everyone expected of them. It feels essentially ableist for them to assume that the only relationship two system members can have ought to be familial, like they can't be disconnected from each other, they absolutely have to be family.
And alt-earth doppelgangers aren't treated as siblings/twins! E-2 KF basically hits on E-1 Caity with comments abt how good she looks as a brunette and why is she hiding her titties! Even Savitar, who is from their goddamn timeline just so many years in the future, is not treated as Barry's twin even though he's his double. just, I don't, I don't fucking get it. Them being """"""sisters"""""" just doesn't hold up to how any other physical double of the main cast is treated, the only difference being that they're initially sharing the same body, which is another note for my ableism point. It also feels accidentally autophobic in that regard but that may be projecting cuz girl autism is not the only spectrum i am on. I think it would've made more sense to have the family feelings between Frost and Icicle, but that's a whole ass other rant.
okay so if u havent picked up on it yet,
Killersnow is the OTP of the Arrowverse. I hyperfixated on them hard the first time I ever watched The Flash. The aspect of them sharing a body and the light autosexuality that comes w being attracted to your physical double, just makes it so rich and interesting! The complexities that come with hearing each other's thoughts and I love thinking about ways they could kiss and touch while still in the same body, I've probably written Caitlin having control of one hand and Frost having control of the other while they're holding hands a dozen times. When it comes to Frost, Caitlin is always so desperate. Desperate to keep her caged and have her erased, then desperate to get her back and feel her again, always. You can't deny that Cait's feelings for Frost, whether you ship them or not, whether you see those feelings as romantic or not, are always so big compared to the other feelings she just loves to distract herself from.
And Frost is so so so overprotective of Caitlin, willing to bust her out of prison and even sabotage her just so Frost can always be there to make sure she is safe. I love how Caitlin learned to utilize Frost as a quick threat, like when she told Barry "doctor's. orders." and flashed Frost's eyes real quick, that just shows how much they have each other's backs, how insane Frost would go for her, how much Caitlin trusts Frost to temporarily give her control of their eyes and know Frost would give them back immediately, how coorindated they have become over the years. AND Cait has to invite Frost into the empty bedroom, which means that when they weren't in seperate bodies FROST USED CAITLIN'S ROOM!!!!!!
of course, the enemies to lovers is strong in this one and given that Caitlin is seemingly immune to the effects of her alters superpowers they are actually able to be in a relationship without risk of frostbite or hypothermia!
i'm gonna stop myself here but yeah. them:3c
send me asks for this ship game!
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27. for Mix, 5. And 30. For Sasli, please! 👀
👀👀 Fun ones, thanks!! I don't know who you meant for 27 so I did them all bc I was bored on transit lol.
27: What causes them to feel dread?
Sasli: Hope, and being given false hope. Aka, being played. She is weak, naive, and easy to manipulate, and she's very aware of that, but yet she still struggles to avoid it! Silly Sasli. Luckily Mix is always there to help when she's sad and Turgi loves to help her try to learn..
Turgi: Turgi dreads the thought that she would fail to save someone she loves from death or lasting damage (tangible or not). Not arriving on time, or not talking them out of a bad decision. Even though she's great at not making other people's problems hers I general, she doesn't have that "skill" with those she cares about. She also dreads social structure..but that's a new realization as of her brain worm and finally making it to the surface where she realized it can just not exist.
Mix: He really relies on and loves his chosen family, so his main dread would be losing them. Either to their own lifestyle changes, drifting apart, or them dying. He wants his loved ones close and to know that they're safe and happy, so any challenge to that would destroy him. He definitely over compensates and takes matters into his own hands in very concerning ways..... Dag does not approve smh.
Dag: Constriction. Dag is a freedom lover, a solo poly guy, a wilderness wanderer. He wants the lives of everyone in his life to be full, but without relying on him being restricted to make it so. He loves adding to his life but not being strangled by new experiences or people, and he would hate to feel that he is strangling others.
Lot: I think Lot would dread most to be alone completely. Like physically alone. She doesn't mind mental and emotional loneliness at all, and actually prefers it!
5. How easy is it to earn their mistrust? (Mix)
Honestly? So easy. Mix mistrusts everyone by default. He's always wondering about every new person's angle, goals, values, and how will they react in certain situations. Mostly he's just trying to assess threats until he figures them out and can act accordingly....
Maybe more to the heart of the question, what will immediately make that mistrust permanent? Having ill intentions against anyone he loves, of course. Whether accidental or on purpose. His pack is his life and his love.
30. Who do they most regret meeting? (Sasli)
Oh boy. Maybe, the entire society of wood elves she grew up among? She really wishes she could have just been raised in the hells, which is saying a lot I think, but at least everything is straight forward there.
One in particular I guess would be an ex partner who fed on her energy while also shaming her for it. Turgi is still helping her recover from that one 😂
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Empowering Community Support: The Case for Contributing to Raymond Duggan's GoFundMe for Electric, Gas, and Rent
Introduction:
In today's world, many individuals face financial challenges that make it difficult to cover basic necessities such as electricity, gas, and rent. As Raymond Duggan, I find myself in a situation where I am struggling to meet these essential expenses due to moving to an area of high unemployment . In response, I have created a GoFundMe campaign to seek support from friends, family, and the community at large. This essay aims to outline the compelling reasons why individuals should consider contributing to my GoFundMe campaign, highlighting the significance of solidarity, compassion, and collective support in times of need.
Urgency of Basic Needs:
Electricity, gas, and shelter are fundamental components of a dignified and comfortable life. Access to electricity ensures lighting, heating, and the ability to power essential appliances, while gas provides cooking facilities and hot water. Rent is the cornerstone of stable housing, providing security and stability for individuals and families. However, for many individuals, meeting these basic needs can become a daily struggle, especially when faced with unexpected financial setbacks or emergencies.
As Raymond Duggan, I am experiencing firsthand the challenges of balancing limited financial resources with the need to maintain essential services and housing. Without electricity and gas, daily tasks become more difficult, and the risk of discomfort, inconvenience, and even health hazards increases. Moreover, the threat of eviction looms large when rent payments cannot be met, leading to instability and uncertainty for myself and my loved ones.
Impact of Community Support:
In times of crisis, the power of community support cannot be overstated. By coming together to support those in need, communities can provide a lifeline for individuals facing financial hardship, offering hope, solidarity, and practical assistance. Contributing to my GoFundMe campaign is an opportunity for members of the community to make a tangible difference in my life, alleviating financial stress and ensuring that I can meet my basic needs without fear or uncertainty.
Moreover, the act of giving fosters a sense of connection and empathy, strengthening the bonds of solidarity within the community. By demonstrating compassion and generosity towards those in need, individuals can create a culture of mutual support and caring, where everyone feels valued, supported, and included. Together, we can build a more compassionate and resilient community where no one is left behind or forgotten.
Importance of Dignity and Well-Being:
Financial insecurity can take a significant toll on an individual's mental, emotional, and physical well-being. The stress of struggling to make ends meet can lead to anxiety, depression, and other mental health challenges, impacting overall quality of life and sense of self-worth. By contributing to my GoFundMe campaign, individuals can help alleviate the burden of financial stress, allowing me to focus on rebuilding my life and pursuing opportunities for growth and stability.
Furthermore, ensuring access to basic necessities such as electricity, gas, and housing is essential for upholding human dignity and rights. Every individual deserves to live in a safe, comfortable environment where their basic needs are met, free from the fear of homelessness or deprivation. By supporting my GoFundMe campaign, individuals can uphold these principles and make a meaningful difference in the lives of those facing financial hardship.
Paying It Forward:
Finally, contributing to my GoFundMe campaign provides an opportunity for individuals to pay forward the kindness, support, and generosity they have received from others in the past. Whether through personal relationships, community networks, or acts of random kindness, many of us have experienced moments of assistance and solidarity when we needed it most. By giving back to others in need, we perpetuate the cycle of generosity and compassion, creating a ripple effect of positive change that extends far beyond our immediate circle.
Conclusion:
In conclusion, Raymond Duggan's GoFundMe campaign for electric, gas, and rent represents an opportunity for individuals to make a meaningful difference in the life of someone facing financial hardship. By contributing to the campaign, individuals can provide essential support, uphold principles of compassion and solidarity, and help restore dignity and well-being to those in need. Together, we can create a community where everyone feels valued, supported, and empowered to overcome life's challenges and pursue a brighter future. Thank you for considering a donation to my GoFundMe campaign and for joining me in this journey of hope, resilience, and community support.
Please Donate Here.
#HelpingHand#CommunitySupport#Fundraising#Crowdfunding#Donate#Charity#Support#GiveBack#PayItForward#MakeADifference#EmergencyFund#FinancialAssistance#EveryLittleHelps#SpreadKindness#TogetherWeCan#GiveHope#Empathy#Generosity#SupportLocal#Philanthropy#NeighborsHelpingNeighbors#EndFinancialStruggles#CommunityCare#HelpingOthers#HumanitarianAid
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