#all I do is getting overly excited when one has green hair and make them beam when complimenting it

[irrfahrer]

canvas: Does your OC have any scars, piercings, tattoos, or other markings? Do they display or cover them up at all?

Ziv has three helix-piercings in each ear in which she had put cooper rings. While she likes them aesthetically, it is also a clear sign for people to notice that she is definitive not a animal or a non-sentient pet and that she is person enough to actually invest in clearly noticeable (as on the highest part of her body that are her ears) Bodyart. On her left ear she wears an earring that had been given to her by Malkhaz as a token, after they said their goodbyes. Malkhaz kept the other earring. The earring is not especially expensive. The bohème piece with turquoise-stones and cooper metal might be more expensive than the cooper rings but is eventually nothing but fashion-jewelery. It is important who gave the earring to her.

When she was around 18 years old she had a Septum-piercing but after she had fled the crimelords rangs in which she had started to work in in exchange for a cortosis-vambrace, she took it out because after she had been held like a pet with no way to escape her situation, she did not liked the implications that the septumpiercing was similar to the nosering of cattle used to control them. In the Verse outside of Starwars, she also had the Septum-Piercing during her days studying to make her degree, but as soon as she was confronted with the fact that the convoy she had been given to had put her into debt to them for the costs of raising her, educating her and taking care of her medical needs, Ziv also took the septum out, feeling much too trapped mentally to show it in her face.

Ziv has a navelpiercing with cooper metal in form of a open flower and an blue stone in the center. This has no implications beside the fact that Ziv likes bodyart as a expression of her individuality and she likes jewelery. While the Piercings on her ears are constantly visible, her navelpiercing is usually under clothes for the simple reason that Ziv also uses clothes to express herself as an individual and usually those clothes cover up her stomach. However depending on the area she is in (as in, the temperature of that area), Zivs regulary walks around just with a utility-belt as clothes or topless, so the piercing is occasionally visible. Zivs definition of nakedness is because of the pelt different. She has three nipplepiercings along her mammary ridge of her left side, yet this has no artistic reason= when she had been fourteen and her group of AgriCorps Adepts happned to have a free evening in a starharbour they went through the nightlife. One of them as a mamalian humanoid got his two nipples pierced to proof how tough they are and Ziv, who was and still is extremly ambitious, combative and has a crude humor, used the chance to outdo said other Adept by getting studs along her left side in all three nipples (she has six, so she had free chosing. Beeing a mammal of a r-selected species with litters of up to six pups means one needs more than two.). She regretted it the next morning because it hurted for weeks and it will still hurt when she is hit against the mammary ridge ( especially on the left side due to the piercings, just because she has no visible fat-breasttissue outside of pregnancy does not mean that she will not keel over and cuss like a sailor when she is hit in the underlying mammary glands.Because she definitive will cuss like a sailor in that scenario.). Lovers who had asked for the reason for the piercings usually find Zivs reason hilarious and the Tynnan, still remembering the aches and the fact she had spend days with icepacks and also just icepieces under her tunic along her left side, is still sour about it. Having the young girl with melting icepacks under her tunic on one side might had caused a lot of mocking and jokes, resulting in Ziv beeing especially sour about the topic. That she does not care especially much about this part of bodyart on her body is shown in that the piercings she uses are nothing but simple cooper metalstuds to avoid dirt getting into the holes, in contrast to her polished earrings or navelpiercing. Its not like the studs are often visible at all, because of Zivs cloth and especially because of her pelt. Accordingly this detail about Ziv is only known by lovers who had had their hands on her and the Tynnan is a little hurt in her pride everytime she has to tell the story about her beeing a very dumb teenager and having piercings because she wanted to show off how hardcore she is to other very dumb teenagers.

Due to her pelt Ziv has no tattoos, however she usually lets the symbol for "healer" shaved in the outer layer of her fur on her chest when she is on Planets where the literacy is not so high and she still needs show to people that they can come to her for help and support in medical matters. The symbol usually needs around eight weeks to grow out completly and that is usually the signal for Ziv to change locations to another planet.

In her inquisitor AU, Ziv has none of the piercings beside the septumpiercing for obvious reasons.

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Dark Shades of Innocence Lost Epilogue✨

Club Owner! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: Thank you to @alltheirdamn for beta reading for me and loving Joel and Angel as much as I do 🥹 This series has meant the world to me, and it’s been so healing to write. I can’t wait to write a whole book about them 🥰

Chapter Summary: As days turn to long months, your love for Joel only grows stronger. And tonight, you’re right back where it all began.

Word Count: 2.1k

Rating: 18+ only MDNI

Tags: Just a lot of fluff and Joel and Angel being in love 🥹

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Three Months Later

The vibrant colors of pink and shades of ruby reds fill your peripheral vision as you make your way through Club Inferno, which is now called Angel’s Place. A place that’s become like a second home; a place you’ve come to love because this is Joel’s, and he’s made it as much yours as it is his.

As you pass the lit-up bar, you nod to Tommy, who’s standing behind the bar in his black leather jacket, conversing with one of the blonde bartenders. He smiles your way, and that big grin nearly covers his entire face when he lifts a glass of whiskey to you and pushes locks of greasy black hair back into place.

Tommy feels like as much a part of your family as Joel is now, and you can’t imagine not having either of them in your life. They anchored you when you were slipping under the stormy waves, pulling you free from the darkness and impending doom. You won’t ever thank them enough for showing you what a real family feels like but also what stability feels like.

Giving him a friendly wave, you turn and push your way through the rowdy crowd, stepping into the quiet hallway that’s draped with muted pink lights and hanging mirrors. Your heart thunders in your chest the closer you get to Joel’s office, overly excited to see your favorite person in the entire world who’s also the absolute love of your life.

Your love. Yours.

Smiling ridiculously wide to the point where your face hurts, you stand in front of those glossy black doors, the ones that’ll lead you to Joel. When you flick your eyes up, they become a little misty each time you stare at your mark he imprinted on his club.

A sign that’s the color of a light pink blush sparkles on top of the door, and the name takes your breath away every single time your eyes trace over those words. Angel’s Place marks the wall with sparkly wings that hover on the outsides of the name. And it feels like it's yours more and more each time you see it glowing in the hallway.

He told you he put it right over his office because that’s where you belong, with him. And it’s probably one the sweetest things he’s ever done. No one has ever gone through this much effort for you, but Joel did. In fact, he gave you the entire world.

God. You love this man with every fiber of your being, and you don’t think you’ll ever stop. He’s everything you’ve ever wanted.

Latching your hand against the large door handle, you turn it and step through the heavy doors, immediately met with the smell of spearmint, whiskey, and scents of freshly chopped wood. Joel’s signature scents. Your favorite smells. You waft in his presence and lean against the now closed door, your eyes staring straight into the center of the room at your man.

He’s wearing one of his favorite green flannels, sleeves rolled up to the elbows to expose those thick, veiny arms you love to get wrapped up in. His tousled dark locks are slicked back by some expensive gel, and you can’t help but smile at how gorgeous he looks under the dim lighting of his office. Even with his nose stuck in some paperwork, you think he’s the handsomest man you’ve ever seen. And you just can’t believe he’s yours.

He sighs and flips over a stack of white papers, groaning into the air. “Tommy, not right now. I said I’m…”

“I’m not Tommy,” you giggle.

Joel looks up from his piled up paperwork, and a wide grin slowly spreads over his plush mouth. The mouth you love to kiss. “You sure as hell ain’t, sweetheart.”

“You busy?” you ask sweetly, letting your hand linger on the painted door as you pull away and start to head toward his mahogany desk.

“Never too busy for my girl. C’mere.” He throws the stack of papers out of his hands, not even caring that some fly over the desk onto the floor. Pushing his leather office chair back, he coaxes you forward, curling his thick fingers in a come hither motion until you’re close enough to where he can reach you. He snatches your hips and pulls you onto his lap, his strong arms circling your waist until you’re face to face with him.

“Hi,” he smiles, pushing a loose strand of hair behind the shell of your ear.

“Hi,” you purr back, your hands locking around his neck. “I missed you today.”

“Not as much as I missed you, Angel. Been dreamin’ about kissin’ those pretty red lips of yours all damn day,” he says, his fingertips trailing down your skin and lingering on your cheek, making you blush from the affection that’s slipping from his glistening brown eyes.

“Well, now you can, handsome.” You part your full lips and give him a big smile, and he just can’t stop staring in awe, like you’re a diamond in the rough. You’re his diamond.

“C’mere then, babygirl.” He tugs you flush to his chest and presses his lips against yours, eliciting a deep sigh when his mouth melds to yours. He tastes like whiskey and smells like an autumn day, out in the woods where pine trees and chestnuts permeate throughout the cool air.

He smells like your favorite scent, and you want to bottle it up and keep it forever. Maybe make your own perfume so you can smell like him every time you’re apart.

He’s got you hooked, and you’ll never be able to let go.

“God, I’ll never get tired of kissin’ you. You’re sweeter than anything I’ve ever tasted before,” he pants out through messy kisses, reeling you back in to lick inside your mouth.

You open wider, allowing him to swallow your moans whole with every stroke of his tongue, hands roaming through his tousled hair, making him groan into your mouth while his fingers press further into your hips. It’s like the room is on fire, and both of your bodies are the center of the heated flames.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful, Angel,” he mouths, nipping at your bottom lip and teasing you on.

“Oh, Joel. Stop. You’re making me blush,” you giggle, nuzzling your nose against his in an affectionate way.

“Well, s’true. You’re the sweetest thing that’s ever walked into my life. And I want you to know, you make me the happiest man in the world.” He smiles and kisses your cheek, his lips dragging along the shell of your ear, nipping and teasing as he elicits another giggle from your lips.

“And you, Joel Miller, make me the happiest woman. I love you.” You curl your fingers over the soft material of his green collar and stare into beautiful brown eyes.

“Not as much as I love you, Angel. You really know how to make a man’s life light up with that beautiful smile of yours.” He pushes your hair to the side and slowly plays with the strands like they’re guitar strings, his fingers expertly working as they drag along the back of your head.

Another groan and you’re tugging him forward. “Come here, handsome.” Your mouths meet again, hot and fiery like the first night you met him, simmering sparks flying across the warm air as your lips lock together. There’s a hunger in his kiss, like he wants to devour you whole, but he’s also so gentle, and you think he’s the perfect combination. He’s dominant and soft. So very soft.

When your lips break apart and your ragged breaths fill the air, he cups your cheeks in his large palms and a soft smile curls against his mouth. “Why don’t we take this in the back, where it all began.”

You smile and crawl off his lap, locking your fingers with his as you tug him forward. “Take me to the back then, Mr. Club Owner.”

He chuckles and licks his bottom lip, pulling you out of his office and back into the dark hallway, back where it all began. “Follow me then, Angel.”

You gladly follow after him, your glittery heels clicking against the polished floor, his eyes dark and dangerous, a smirk curled against his mouth. His eyes flick back and forth between you and the last door in the hallway, and your heart pounds impossibly fast at the possibilities of tonight.

You haven’t been back in this room in weeks, but tonight is your lucky night. Because this room right here is where everything began. It’s where you found all-consuming pleasure, where you found this dominant yet gentle man, where you fell in love with those big sappy brown eyes you want to drown in, and now he’s all yours. Now you’re free. Free to love, to be vulnerable, to express your feelings without any consequences.

Joel freed you from your dark shades; now you’re just a swirl of vibrant, glittering colors that paint the sky bright hues of pinks and violets.

He tugs you through the sleek doors and leads you across the shiny floor, past the embers of the crackling fireplace, right to the felt-topped pool table. Wrapping his arms around your waist tight, he picks you up and lays you down against the soft velvety material and crawls over you, your legs splayed wide as he hovers over you, his lips brushing softly against yours.

His arms cage you in, his broad body crowding your space until you can’t smell anything but him crashing against you like a rolling wave. Your body hums with electricity, the blood pumping through your veins violently, and your center is already slick for him, ready to take on anything he has for you.

“Look at us, right back where it all started,” he hums, the pads of his fingers brushing locks of hair behind your ear, trailing them down down down until he’s hiking the skirt of your dress up, teasing you slowly and gently.

“Look at us,” you whisper back, eyes glistening like gold when he tips his head down and looks at you with those soft, sappy brown eyes you just can’t get enough of. If you had an option, you’d fall right into them, let him drown you until all you can see is him.

He’s all you ever want to see. Forever.

His lips brush against yours as light as a feather, and you melt into the pool table, letting your fingernails trace against his greying scruff, tangling your other hand at the back of his neck in those smooth curls that feel like silk.

“You gonna be mine forever, Angel?” he smiles, leaving a trail of kisses down your cheek and ending at the base of your neck.

“Mmm, yes. I’m yours, Joel. Forever and ever. I’ve always been yours.”

His lips crash into yours like a tidal wave, everything else in the room fading to black. It’s just you and Joel, your pink shades mixing with his dark reds, colliding into mere bliss as the kiss envelops you fully.

He pulls off just enough to mutter those three words you love to hear repeatedly. “I love you, Angel. Always have and always will.”

“And I love you, handsome. You’re my forevermore.”

His lips fall back on yours, and then the night fades away while he makes passionate love to you on top of the pool table. But this time it’s not just lust. No. It’s a beautiful, everlasting love that can move mountains.

Your love for Joel is infinite, as is his. You had to go through the dark times to find the light, and Joel showed you that light. He lit every single spotlight he could find and pulled you out of the dark pits of despair. He saved you in every way a girl would want to be saved.

He was the reason you found love again. He was your savior, and he gave you wings so you could fly. He showed you what it was like to be fully loved, and it was beautiful like a brand new pair of white wings.

And when you couldn’t fly; he caught you and taught you how to fly again. He was your safety net, and you finally knew what it felt like to be loved.

Joel is love, and he’s everything you’ll ever need.

This club, this room is a sacred place. It’s Joel’s and yours. And it’s where your love will continue to grow, forever.

[palskippah]

Hi! You saw preg Bowuigi, but may I present to you… preg Mareach ✨

The thought won't leave my mind after I mindlessly drew Mario asking Luigi how is it to be pregnant and then it escalated from there 😔

So! Here's some headcanons (that you can find too in the drawings) for this:

-Mario and Luigi's mamma and uncle are twins, so they have this 'twin gene', and it just so happens that Mario got twins first try and Luigi didn’t.

-Mario has thoughts when seeing his bro expecting, he develops a serious case of baby fever that he refuses to tell anyone about. Like he catches himself thinking about him and Peach expecting and her acting in the overly attentive way that Bowser does, or thinking of a tiny blonde baby with a button nose and blue-sky eyes. He feels a bit guilty about these thoughts.

-Luigi eventually pries the information out of Mario and tries to convince him to talk to Peach about it, that she’d be understanding even if she doesn’t like the idea. Mario’s stubborn and just doesn’t and feels bad for wanting a baby too just because his bro is going to have one.

-To Mario’s surprise (and relief) it’s Peach who mentions the idea of having children (he feels a bit embarrassed that she easily used the exact words he scolded himself for: “I want a baby”), so they shyly entertain the idea.  And they decide they'd like to be parents in the future.

-When Magma (that's the Bowuigi baby's name!) grows and gets to the toddler stage, Mario finally decides that they could start trying.

-(Corny and I pulled this from Deadpool 2 but) He gives the 'green light' to Peach as a sort of anniversary gift and she's so happy she jumps in place and holds him to her chest and rambles about what to name the baby and how they'd look and what they'll do together and– Mario jokingly reminds her that first she's gotta put a baby in him for that to happen.

-Luigi is really excited when Mario and Peach tell him that they’re expecting. He hugs them both and says he can’t wait to finally be an uncle, and that they’ll be great parents.

-Luigi spoils his bro the same way Mario did with him when he was expecting Magma, like baking him treats and his favorite foods whenever they’re at their house and overall being a very good bro.

-Soon Peach arranges a room to make a nursery and plans how it’ll be.

-When they discover it's twins she makes arrangements again to adapt it for two babies, assigning a color to each baby’s things, because she thinks that Mario and Luigi having their signature colors is adorable.

-When they’re back from the doctor after discovering they’ll have twins, they’re both happily thinking about two children. Peach of snuggly wrapped little babies with round noses and brunette hair, and Mario for some reason thinks of two blonde toddlers with matching hats and blue overalls.

-Mario's belly looks big soon and Peach is over the moon because he's so round and handsome.

-He's so shaped.

-Due to almost all of the Mushroom Kingdom citizens being small Mario often loses sight of them, especially when talking to toads. They love to stand close and right in front of him, even if Mario tells them to stand at his side so he can see them. Mario's pretty sure not even the toads can see him over his belly and yet they don't listen.

-Mario lives at Peach's castle but he and Luigi still kinda often stay at their own little house at the outskirts of Toad Town. Luigi sometimes goes by himself or brings some of his children. They like to have some kind of peace apart from their families and the royalness of it all. (Thinking about the fact that Bowser went on a vacation by himself as Junior said once in a game sjdks)

-Peach is very excited for the babies and she always asks for permission to caress his belly and to hold it and to kiss it. She talks a lot to the babies too, even at times holding very long one-sided conversations with them while Mario listens in with an absolutely besotted smile.

-Many nights, when Mario's sprawled on his side with his arms in weird positions and snoring away and Peach's at his back holding him, she mumbles on and on sweet words to her children and her boyfriend, and holds Mario closely.

-Ever since they know he's expecting, Peach randomly suggests baby names to Mario, who shakes his head or actually explains why he doesn't like them. She suggests one day a couple of names just for funsies and to her surprise Mario loves them.

-Peach leaves their bed very early to focus on her royal duties all morning, while Mario's asleep almost until midday surrounded by an insane amount of red and pink pillows.

-Peach eats red power up mushrooms to be able to easily carry Mario around when he gets too tired, that way she doesn't get tired either.

-Late on Mario gets the 'pregnancy brain', he forgets things and sometimes does stupid stuff. Once at their house he dropped a fork, and since it never crossed his mind to ask for help or pick another one from the kitchen cabinet, he ended up stuck in a crouch when trying to reach it, yelling for Luigi to come help him up.

-Donkey Kong and Mario are mean besties, and DK often teases Mario and vice versa. Like DK purposefully drops something and asks in a faux nice voice for Mario to pick it up for him, then does the laugh™ as Mario stares at him unamused.

-DK used to (gently) push Mario to sit in soft furniture and laugh at him for getting stuck. Mario would sulk and cross his arms over his belly until the stupid monkey dignified himself to help him up. Until DK did it one day that Mario had been particularly tired about the pregnancy, and besides the usual reaction he also got misty-eyed and his lower lip wobbled. DK freaked out and couldn't figure out how to console him as Mario silently cried. Peach almost obliterated DK on the spot when she caught them.

-Since then DK isn't as mean with Mario until the babies are born weeks later. Also, he's a bit terrified of Peach now.

-Magma, who's still a toddler, often asks her uncle-mama when the babies are going to come out of his belly so she can meet them.

-They have twin girls! They're identical when they're babies and kids but when they grow older they have more noticiable differences (like height, same as Mario and Luigi and their mom and uncle)

-They’re Nettarina and Mariella. Sadly I don’t care how silly the names are, I like them and so does Mario aksjdksajd

-Mario has strong genes so their babies look a lot more like him than Peach (who’s glad, because she wanted to have two mini Marios!), although he hoped they’d look more like her.

-Mario is already fat and he gets even fatter with the pregnancy.

-The girls (and Magma too) speak fluent italian and english.

And that’s what I have so far! I know i missed some characters that I could have mentioned like Daisy or Toad and others, but maybe I’ll think of them too for another post c:

I hope you liked them, and if you have any other ideas or headcanons feel free to share them, I’d love to know!

[blamemma]

OMG OMG IM SO EXCITED YOU’RE DOING THE MICRO FIC MEME! Your circus au has a chokehold on me so obviously I need to prompt SEAWEED! But take this in any direction you want.

very very sorry this is not mermaid au themed at all (although i am working on a v small thing for that actually) but this is where my mind went for this one

Martin had texted him, off-handedly, asking if he was free one night this week. Daniel groaned when the text lit up his screen, another Miami night out, or a Vegas pool party, wasn't what his aching bones needed right now, especially the week before Coachella. His diary was blocked off, tanning in the LA heat, sun beaming down on his skin, dirt bikes if he could be bothered to leave the house at all. He replies with a maybe and watches as the bubbles at the bottom of the screen appear, whilst he chucks frozen fruit into his blender.

Sick

Teams in LA for most of the week prepping for Coachella. You should take my new sound engineer on a date.

Daniel scoffs, turns the blender on and grimaces at the loud noise. He hasn't put any greens in, just sweet tangy berries and bananas with a splash of oat milk, refreshing. He pours the liquid into his glass, sticks a glass straw into it, and then texts one handed as he heads outside.

Who do you take me for? Dial-a-date

Send me a photo of him at least!

No. Martin replies.

Wednesday 9pm work for you?

You'll like him. You'll have fun. Promise. If not I'll comp all ur drinks at Coachella this weekend.

Daniel lays back on his lounger, brings the smoothie to his lips and takes a big gulp. It's been a long time since he-- Martin means well, knows what Daniel likes for the most part. It could be fun. Something different.

Okay. He responds

If it's a shit time though you're covering the bill as well. Daniel adds.

It won't be :) Martin texts back instantly.

-🍣😳🍷-

The waitress leads Daniel to the table he'd reserved, a quiet corner near the back, a wide table, space for plenty of food for them to share. It's one of his favourite Japanese restaurants, one he's been dying to come back to since he arrived back in LA. He'd asked Martin for the guys details, so that he could text him the address himself, but he'd refused to hand them over, told Daniel that Max would be there on time, and not to worry, reassured him again they'd have fun.

Daniel wipes his hands down the front of his colourful shirt, an unreleased one from his own Enchanté collection, a conversation piece he can fall back on if the guy is into fashion as well.

"Daniel?" He hears closely behind him, a thicker accent than Martin's, more European. Daniel turns in his chair, simultaneously standing up at the same time.

"That's me." He quips, holding his hand out to be shaken. It feels overly formal to do, considering they're on a date, but it's second nature to Daniel, at corporate events or in the paddock, to hold his hand out and deliver a firm handshake. Max takes his hand, shaking it firmly.

"I am sorry that Martin put you up to this. We have been friends for a while now, but now that I am working for him, he keeps on trying to set me up with his friends. I tell him I am too busy, organising all his crap and making sure it is all smooth, but he knows my schedule this week too well." Daniel's taken aback a little, by how standoffish Max is being. "Oh, I am Max by the way, did Martin tell you that at least?"

Max moves towards his chair as he's talking, pulling it out and sitting down, leaving Daniel there, standing, taking him in. Daniel fumbles, sits back down, gets his own leg caught on the table leg and tries to play it off cool.

"Yeah he did." Daniel replies, picking up his glass of red wine and taking a sip.

Daniel gets why Martin didn't send him a picture of Max. He's attractive. Muscular and shaped, long hair at the top of his head, all ruffled like he'd barely bothered trying to style it. He's got a loose white shirt on, top button undone where Daniel can see pale skin. A freckle atop his lip that Daniel can't seem to look away from. He's not conventionally attractive by any means, but Martin's done well. Martin knew.

"So, how did you end up working for Martin then?" It seems like common ground they can talk about for now, whilst they wait to order.

"Well, I have known him since we were very young, but he went off and started doing his music stuff, and I went to university and I started studying civil engineering but then moved into audio engineering. Whenever Martin was home, or I visited him, the music was fun, it seemed good fun. So I of course change my degree for him but he had someone very experienced on his team, so I worked for some smaller DJs who were not as good and I helped make them sound better. Anyway, Harry has now quit and Martin asked if I was interested still."

"Wow, so you changed your whole life plan for your best friend?"

"No, it was not really like that at all. I do not think I would have found the job I am now doing if it was not for Martin cause he introduced me to that whole world, but I am not just doing it because of him. I have two cats at home, I would not travel this much and be away from them all the time just for Martin, I enjoy the job."

Max emphasises two cats as if he's left a wife and two children at home, fending for themselves whilst he's off basking in the Ibiza sun or jetting off to another remote festival.

"You travel a lot as well Martin was saying?" Daniel smiles gently, finally being asked a proper question. Polite date etiquette.

"Well, I used to. First year of retirement for me. Was an F1 driver. Won a couple of championships, 'ya know. So yeah, not travelling as much now. Went home for a while, back here now for a bit, go see some friends, find out what life is really all about. Home is Australia by the way."

"Yes, I used to watch you. You were a very good driver actually." Daniel notes how Max says that as if he's an expert, as if he's been commentating on Sky Sports for 25 years and can spot a generational talent from miles off. He feels like he should be offended, but he finds it endearing, complimentary. He has this innate feeling that if Max thought he was a crap driver, he'd say.

"Well, thank you very much, I guess." Daniel says, taking another sip from his red wine.

The waitress comes back over towards them and asks for their order. Daniel takes over, ordering for them both. He's tried so much of it before, he knows what's good. Tuna sashimi, California Rolls, Chicken potstickers, Vegetable tempura, Salmon maki. All different types of things they can split and share between them. The waitress smiles softly at Daniel, closing her notepad and bending to get the menus from them.

"Can I please get a Gin & Tonic, and the Beef noodles please?" Max asks.

Daniel shifts in his seat a little, taken aback, but also slightly worried he's been rude. The waitress jots down Max's order and promises to bring his drink over soon.

"Sorry, thought we could share." Daniel remarks.

"I guessed you thought that, but I am not a very big fan of seafood. I guess Martin did not tell you that." Max's eyes glint as he smiles, and Daniel relaxes again.

"Did you know, the seaweed salad you ordered, most places that is in fact just shredded cabbage. It is much cheaper for them to make and of course most people never know the difference." Max tells Daniel.

"Well I hope it's proper seaweed if I'm paying $40!" Daniel says aghast, and Max laughs, clapping his hands together.

--🍜😄🍸--

They order plenty more drinks, and enjoy all the food before them, with Daniel having a few take-out boxes stacked in front of him to carry home, due to his presumptuous over-ordering.

Daniel adores how delighted Max gets, small jokes enticing the biggest laughs out of him, and how direct he's being. When Daniel says something wrong, he corrects him straight away. Daniel's also taken aback by how complementary Max is. He tells Daniel within 15 minutes of their date beginning that he likes his smile, and when Daniel moves on to the easy topic of his clothing line, Max praises the new designs Daniel shows him, and gently offers pointers as to what he thinks would work better.

When the waitress brings the bill over, Daniel almost feels saddened that it's over, unsure when he'll see Max again, maybe during the Coachella weekend, but he'll be busy, he knows Martin has a few warm up shows in Las Vegas and at Brooklyn Mirage before he plays on Sunday, so Max won't be at the festival the whole weekend. But he hasn't felt like this in a long time. Not since Scotty. And he doesn't want to let go just yet.

"I've got a cool vinyl collection back at my place if you're into that? Do you like cheesecake? We could get some on the way back." He tries.

"That would be very lovely." Max replies, a beaming smile lighting up his face that cause the skin around his eyes to crinkle.

"Great!" Daniel retorts.

--🍰😏🎶--

He wakes up to a dead arm in the morning, Max laying atop of it. Daniel pushes some of his hair out of his face, kissing his head gently, and then his lips, right over the freckle, before pulling his arm out slowly. He shakes it above him, trying to get some feeling back into it, before leaning over Max and grasping his phone.

A new text from Martin sits above the rest of his notifications.

Guess I'm not paying the bill then 😉 It reads.

[kakusu-shipping]

Sorry to say that I am once again coming to bug you about the Swatchlings specifically jgufhgjgk

The mental image of them parading you around is just sooooo cute to me and I must know more about your dynamic!! Whatever you’ve got on them!!

Also you should share about Watanuki and Doumeki, if that’s not too much!!

NO THANKYOU FOR BUGGING ME ABOUT THE SWATCHLINGS I FINALLY HAVE MORE TO SAY ABOUT THEM THEN JUST "Colors... pretty <3"

First of all I just found this term yesterday but it's perfect so; All the Swatchlings are Butler Caregivers.

They like to take care of a little like they're nobility. Bring them fancy desserts and finger clean foods and teas on silver platters. Button their shirts and tie their shoes just so. Follow them around exactly two paces behind, hands off unless absolutely necessary or directly asked for.

They like to use names like "Young Master/Mistress" or royal variations if requested, and play up the act of the cool collected butler who diligently watches over the house's perfect little bundle of joy.

They do tend to be. Pretty excitable though.

If their young master is looking particularly cute that day they can't help but squee over them. Cooing the sleepiest babies, or repeatedly pouring compliments over a little's hand chosen outfit that they put on all by themselves.

They're also all big Commit to the Bit types. Give them a role in playing pretend and they will play it as straight as Shakespeare, as serious as the most committed stage hand. This is their life now. Should they be the biggest bad in all the seven kingdoms or just a humble guest to a tea party, they are committed, and they are dramatic.

Their favorite activity is painting with their little, though will have a moment of panic if the baby, or surrounding area, gets too filthy. Their least favorite is Hide-and-Seek, just because they're all very quick to assume they've lost the child forever and will never find them again. Also if one of them looks in a hiding spot and sees a Maus then everything goes to chaos.

Each Swatchling is a little different of course, and I just tend to break them into the 6 colors to talk about so for specifics

Red is overly romantic, they love a story to read bedtime stories about princes who save princesses from dragons, or better to act at the princess being saved by their heroic knight. They're the best cook of the six but get depressed if they're missing baby time because they're in the kitchen making all the tiny food, so they tend to shove their responsibilities off on the other Swatchlings. They get lonely easy and tend to be just a bit clingy compared to the other 6, they need more hugs, kisses, and gifts than the others by quiet a bit.

Orange is a perfectionist who loves to pick out his little's perfect outfit, button their shirt, and tie their shoes just so every morning. He'll also brush and style their hair with little ribbons and bows if he's allowed. They're the first to go hands off when a little gets too messy for them, opting to go find a change of clothes for someone else to put them in to, that they'll then adjust as needed after they're all cleaned up. The most he'll do is gently wipe his little's face with a napkin while they're eating, but even that they may have to change gloves afterwards

Yellow is a lot more about the stuffie parties, especially ones he made. Serving over tea parties with all his little's stuffies, setting up movies and placing every guest so they can see the screen. He enjoys a good pillow fort with soft blankets and hot tea and quiet sleepy nights. What she hates is being the one who has to clean it up because she's the Caretaker so it's up to her to put everything back where it goes when blue eventually comes in and carries the baby back to their big plush bed. He just wants to go to bed but he's gotta take all these pillows back to their original rooms...

Green loves to be outside with a little. She wants to set up an easle and a canvas and watch her young master sit peacefully in the rose garden weaving flowers together to make wreaths and bracelets and crowns. She enjoys the babble of the brook and the rustle of leaves in the wind and the warmth of the sun. All idealized versions of the outside she adores. Heavy forbid though her little prefer to dig in the dirt, or stomp in puddles, or run and be loud and messy. She's more of a nice calm picnic in the sun outside type, not so much tag and red light green light red rover play outside type.

Blue's a music lover, they love to sing to their little or play the piano for them, write them little songs about how great they are or how fun it is to do basic chores like brush your teeth or eat breakfast. They're more of a bedtime caregiver, they love a sleepy little to listen to their lullabies, to rock gently and tuck comfortably into bed. They're the shortest of the six Swatchlings and just a little touchy about it, so little things like not being the first choice for carrying the little or struggling to place dangerous things out of a baby's reach would get to them. They're also the only Swatchling to place and uphold rules like Bedtime, Clean up, and Time Outs (if need be). They're the leader when Swatch isn't around.

Purple is the odd one out of the Swatchlings. She LOVES a chaotic baby, she loves a mess, splatter paint and mud and food fights. She loves bath time with an entire bottle of sudsy soap and lavender lotion. She loves toys all over the floor and snacks on every surface and open but not yet finished juice boxes. She comes across a lot more like an older sibling CG than a butler. She tends to get scolded a lot by Blue and is usually more on clean up than play supervision, however she's the only Swatchling willing to deal with a messy baby meaning she eventually has to be the one to step in and change her little's clothes, help them wipe up a spill, or get them ready for bathtime. She's the oldest of the six and the most mellow (but she still can't handle Maus)

[yoditorian]

Lacuna - The Rewrite - Part 2

din/gn!reader

i split the original chapter into two upon rewriting, which is why the second half is missing

original part 2//series masterlist//main masterlist

word count: 3.1k // warnings: some swears, too many italics, that's literally it tho, still 18+ no babies

“-wiped out, no one survived.”

“Well, someone did.”

They’re arguing, still. And you’ve been delivered five meals since being directed into the small office for questioning. So it’s been at least a day, almost two. Probably. The voices in the hall fade, they must be off to discuss your situation with someone who might be able to make the decision. They’ve already searched you and your pack - already confirmed you’re not a spy for the Empire - so what’s the hold up?

You don’t hear a set of footsteps approaching the door, too wrapped up in your own anxieties about what might happen if they don’t let you in. Which is probably why you jump half a foot in your chair when the door slides open. It reveals a woman, dark hair and sharp features, deep green flight suit tied at her waist. She’s pretty, although she’s clearly not sure what to make of you just yet as she eyes the binders at your wrists.

“What do you do?” She asks, arms folded as she leans against the doorframe. You don’t answer straight away, not sure if it might be some kind of test, but at least she doesn’t look overly annoyed that she has to repeat her question to get an answer.

“Pilot, mechanic, fucking janitor - whatever, honestly.” 

“Triple threat,” Her voice is even, but she’s fighting a smile that gives her away immediately. Not a test, then. “What kind of experience you got?”

Shara has to admit that the rumours of a surviving member of the Corellian spy ring had piqued her interest. Jet fuel runs in the blood there, it’s a safe bet that whoever the generals had spent the better part of forty eight hours grilling has more than enough experience to hop straight into a starfighter. And with heavy losses in recent months, pilots are something the Rebellion is desperately short on. 

So she isn’t shocked when you start listing every planetside transport, every planet hopper, cargo freighter, gunship, and starfighter you’ve ever worked on or flown. The list is extensive, impressive honestly. It dwarfs the experience of many of her colleagues, and Shara can’t help the thrum of excitement in her veins. Not only are you an experienced pilot, but you’re a mechanic - a scrapper, the rebels need more scrappers. Too many politicians, too many people who are far too used to having every resource in the galaxy at their disposal. It’s a glimmer of hope, she realises, in a night becoming all too dark for anyone’s liking.

“So, you can fly anything?” Shara asks, no longer hiding the wide grin on her face.

“Anything.”

You’ll fit right in, she decides - there and then.

And you do, you slot in like you’ve lived your whole life orbiting Yavin.

They drill you like there’s no tomorrow, you’ve got the deep muscle aches to prove it but it’s thrilling. Your back hurts and it’s everything you ever wanted it to be. Where the Corellian spy ring was all sneaking and secrets, the Rebel base on Yavin IV is a full scale production. Every daylight hour is spent running the same manoeuvres in the main four fighters - before you know it, you could fly any one of them with your eyes closed. Despite the pain and the exhaustion and the repetitive nature of the training, you love it. But you’ve got your eyes on the prize.

A coveted position in one of the primary starfighter squadrons has conveniently opened up, its previous placeholder reassigned, and you’re not the only one who’s sure that the fourth bunk in Green Squadron’s barracks has your name on it.

“I know I don’t see you coming for my track time.” Shara Bey’s voice is loud and clear over the buzz of the hangar, and you can’t keep the smile off your face despite the ache deep in your bones.

“Maybe I am, are you finally gonna do something about it?”

Shara launches herself at you the moment you set your datapad down, a boisterous laugh echoing off the ships. You’re steadily climbing the ranks in training, the years of experience already under your belt make you more confident in the cockpit than the other new recruits and you’re not afraid to pull a stunt or two. A flawless dead drop recovery had earned more than a few nods of approval from some of the qualified pilots. Although the Commander overseeing the recruit training made it clear that it was definitely what landed you with patrol maintenance duty on top of your usual drills in the first place.

“I talked to Draven.” She says, and your stomach flips. You’re leaps and bounds ahead of the other recruits, for sure, but nobody seems to want to sign off on your training. There’s always something about required hours or simulation times or more drills. You’re starting to get the feeling that, while you’ve got enough support from your would-be colleagues, no one in command wants you in the air at all.

“I told you I would!”

“I know, I know. But look, if I ask it’s more like an endorsement.”

“Shara-” You’re talking over one another, but not missing a single word. It’s a talent that leaves the commanding officers astounded more often than not.

“He said he’d think about it, which in command language means no-” 

“Tell me there’s a but.”

“But,” She grins widely, “He told me if you get this next info grab done, he’ll put in a good word with my commanders. And my commanders know I’m not going in the air unless you’re at my nine o’clock.”

Shara’s been far more welcoming than just about everyone since the moment she’d rocked up to your interrogation room and asked about your experience. And, over the moon to find you wandering around the halls and out of the binders, she’d spent the whole of your first night curled up in your bunk in the recruit barracks - recounting every little bit of drama she could think of. By the morning, you know who was dating who, who wasn’t happy about it, which crews were rivals, and which held the fastest course runs. Hers, obviously . 

You weren’t as forthcoming with your own journey, only mentioning that you’d run with some rebels for a while on your home planet, made a few detours along the way - she didn’t seem too surprised, and you wondered how much of that she knew already. Ran’s voice, still, in the back of your mind reminding you that everybody has an agenda . But her eyes were so open, so kind, you’ve yet to see that slip. Shara Bey might be the first genuinely good person you’ve ever met.

“And Kes’s crew is due to swing by tomorrow, in case you’ve changed your mind.” She winks, although she already knows you well enough to know you won’t take her up on the offer.

It had come up that first night, somewhere along the way, when she’d started lamenting about the pitiful state of the dating pool. Not something she had to worry about anymore, thank God, but a nightmare nowadays if you were after anyone who didn’t have history with someone in their own crew. She was happy to get her boyfriend to set you up with one of his friends - Pathfinders, never on base long enough to establish a history with anyone, fine enough to pass the time, and strong enough to manhandle you a little. If that’s what you’re into. 

You’d still been a little wary of sharing too many details about your history, something about how you weren’t interested muttered in the dark over the quiet breathing of the other new recruits. You could only tell her that you didn’t expect to see him again. He’d gone home, you didn’t even know where home was. She’d understood, with an arm around your shoulders and an attentive ear if you ever wanted to share more, although she made it clear that the offer of a muscular pair of emotionally unattached Pathfinder arms was always open.

It’s close to a year since you got scooped up by their spies for asking about the Rebellion, but Shara’s never failed to make it seem like much longer. Like you’ve been best friends, sharing lunches and secrets on the landing pad in the shade of her A-Wing for your whole lives. Even now, she’s looking at you like she knows you - backwards, forwards, sideways, inside out. Truth be told, she kind of does. It’s a closeness you’re sure you’ve never had with anyone, and you know you wouldn’t give it up for anything.

“Someone came here last week having never left his planet before and they put him on the training roster. You’ve logged more flight time than any recruit I’ve ever seen and we didn’t even have to teach you in the first place. I know you’re Draven’s golden child, but he can’t keep you on the ground forever, kid.”

“You can’t call me ‘kid’, I’m older than you.” You laugh, shoving her shoulder with your own.

“You’re ruining the moment.” She winks, pressing a kiss to your temple before she waves at a commander calling her name and makes her way to her ship.

The datapad beeps a reminder from its resting place on your tool trolley, you need to pack for your intel grab. It shouldn’t be a long trip, Draven had assured you, a simple in and out: information in exchange for protection and transport to the base. Protection and transport optional. He makes the hard decisions, you’ve learned during your time running the smaller missions for intelligence. The more important runs get given to rebels like Cassian Andor and the group of mercs you’d seen filing into the command room a few days ago. It was an odd combination, seeing people like that somewhere like this, and you know you shouldn’t have stared but you couldn’t help yourself. Weapons strapped to every empty space on each body, armour and clothes on a number of species from all across the galaxy. One of them had looked jarringly like you, although you hadn’t really gotten a good look at their face before they’d disappeared.

Just this mission, and you’d be in the air next week. Hopefully. It’s enough to get your feet moving towards the barracks to pack.

You only need the basics, a change of clothes and some medkit refills. Just in case. Except there’s still an empty space when you zip it shut, sitting heavy between your neatly folded shirts and the top of the bag, and you keep looking at your blanket. It gets cold in hyperspace, a voice in the back of your mind pipes up, and you decide that’s good enough reason as any to fold it in alongside your supplies. It smells solidly of the clean soap of your bedsheets, his scent - Din’s scent, a mix of metal and warmth - had faded before you even plucked up the courage to go looking for the Rebellion, all those months ago. You still hold it to your nose for a moment, just to check, before it too gets folded and laid in the top of your pack.

Now you’re ready.

Din isn’t overly fond of Nevarro. It’s not an unbearable heat, the dry plains are to thank for that, but he’s not a fan of days where the wind picks up and carries the sulphur of the lava fields under the lip of his helmet. The covert welcomed him back, more or less with open arms - though he’s not sure if their ever-dwindling numbers might have had anything to do with the warm reception. He hadn’t let them go without a cut of his pay for every job he’d done for Ran, always sending something back to the foundlings, so at least he hadn’t totally abandoned them. The Armourer decided he should be their beroya , their bounty hunter, and within days he found himself tracking a quarry in a system he’d never heard of. It was easy, really, to take the skills he’d garnered all his life and apply them to this. Paz had laughed with the familiarity of an old friend and told him that if a skinny thing like Din was their beroya , they were all fucked. So at least no one was openly angry that he’d left them.

The guild rep slides a puck across the table, metal scraping against the stone, and the blue hologram flickers. The human man staring back at him is unassuming, but the notes suggest otherwise. A former senator’s assistant, with strong connections to both the Empire and the Rebellion. Din nods, flicking the puck off and tucking it into his pocket without another word.

His loyalty is to the covert, to the Mandalorians. It always has been and it always will be. This is the way. But one mention of the Rebellion has his mind surging back to thoughts of you. Everything in his life seems to. Every time he sets foot on the Crest all he can see is you, bent double with your head in an access panel and a greasy rag tucked into the back of your pants. He’d see the sun and remember how you always used to turn your face to it, just for a moment, whenever the team ran jobs planetside. You’d never told him where you came from, but Ran had let bits and pieces slip over the years. In the looming shadow of the Razor Crest, Din wonders if you ever made it off the station. If you decided to drop everything and find the rebellion, the way you said you would when you were half asleep on his chest, your mind fucked out and hazy. He hopes you did.

The tracking fob brings him to a semi populated planet, somewhere near the border of the Unknown Regions. Vast swathes of land and water are completely uncolonised, left to nature, only a few cities dotted here and there over the whole planet. The bounty is evidently in possession of some brains, having chosen a mid-sized city to get lost in, and Din is almost disappointed that he knows it won’t take long. Wishes he’d picked a different puck, a little further away. Just to keep his mind occupied and out of more dangerous territories.

He stays vigilant, but pays no mind to the beeping of the fob on his belt. He can steal a moment, he thinks, to take in the area. To live the life of some extravagant explorer in his mind while he does a little recon, the life he might have led before it was cruelly snatched away in seconds on Aq Vetina. The last thing he expects to see when he walks into that crumbling little cantina is you.

Din spins on his heel and is out of the door almost as soon as he enters, slipping down the alley to the side of the building to catch his breath. He’s fairly sure you don’t notice - but his mind is reeling, echoes of the vows he swore as a child and the Armourer’s words swirl in his ears.

His loyalty is to the covert. His loyalty is to the covert. His loyalty is to the covert. 

But he only sees you. The way you always had time for him back on the station, how you told the others where they could shove it but always gave him a smile. You went above and beyond to help him without complaint when he asked, only ever got snippy with him when someone else had pissed you off first. He still remembers the way you felt in his hands, how you sounded, how you tasted. He still thinks about it on quiet nights, more often than he should. This is not the place to remember, there’ll be time for that later, although his body needs another minute to be completely convinced.

All he feels is guilt, once the blood comes back up to his brain. Guilt over the covert, over his vows and his creed and his people. But what’s more convincing is the guilt he has over you. Over how he just walked away, left you sleeping, and took the ship you’d spent months working on. Even if you were the one who told him to take it. You’re beautiful, still. Of course you are, you always have been to him. 

You notice when he walks in this time.

The sunlight streaming in from a window catches on the glass of his visor and your heart jumps into your throat. You don’t know if he’s spotted you yet, as he takes a seat at a table by the door angled away from you. Logically, you’d say it could be any Mandalorian. But you spent countless hours studying the way he moves, you had to know his gait to know if walking around a corner would get you killed or not. It almost had on more than one occasion. You could recognise his footsteps anywhere.

The untrained eye would think him relaxed, as relaxed as a man in head to toe armour can be, but you know better. There’s a tension in his shoulders, the same he used to get when Xi’an made another move on him with that grating giggle or Qin handled a blaster too roughly. His hand sits on his thigh, fingers splayed, ready to find the smooth contours of his blaster at any moment. Ever the soldier, never quite at ease. Apart from the last time you thought you’d ever see him, it seemed.

He leaves before you’re even done with your drink, sitting there for barely five minutes when he throws a couple of credits on the table for a drink he didn’t buy and stalks out. You sigh and down the rest of your drink, hoping it’ll quell the nausea rising in your stomach. It doesn’t, but you follow him out all the same.

You’re sure you were right behind him, weaving through the slowly emptying streets as the sun sets and the chill of the night begins to settle in, but now he’s nowhere to be found. Until you feel a set of eyes land heavily on your shoulders. You turn, slowly, and catch a glimpse of where he ducked into a narrow alley. The city’s full of them, but you’re certain he hadn’t been there when you passed it.

A long moment passes when you’re swallowed by the shadow of the buildings towering either side of you, a moment where he just watches you. You can’t deny you’re watching him too, carefully surveying his armour for new nicks and scrapes. There’s more than you’d like to admit to caring about.

“What are you doing here?” He breaks the silence, the tension, first. You shrug. 

“Working, what are you doing here?”

Din holds a small round disk in his palm, arm stretching out towards you as the holo flickers to life and you’re faced with your contact for the intel drop.

“Working.”

Fuck.

And that’s when a really, really bad idea starts to take shape.

i don't have access to my old taglist forms anymore so feel free to message or drop me an ask if you want to be tagged in future :)

[clatoera]

Always Remember We're Burned for Better Chapter 17: What Doesn't Kill Me Makes Me Want You More

Heeeeey guys. I feel like I apologize a lot for delays. Full transparency is that as we enter the final act of this fic we are also entering my application season. Things are going to be irregular until October when my apps are submitted. At the same time I expect thats when I'll be starting the sequel so! Exciting things ahead! Thank you for your patience and understanding and love. I appreciate and love every one of you.

I quite literally went on a mission to revisit every thing Jack Quaid has ever done to get an idea of how I wanted Marvel to sound. I'm posting this 26 minutes before I see oppenheimer the third time.

The title is from Cruel Summer (tswift)

AO3

Masterpost

As always, thank you to my friends. @ohhowwehavefallen who quite literally is the reason for the very last scene. IT was her. Give her credit for it existing. @kentwells for literally letting me bounce EVERY idea off them (I literally the other day said I just want people to be happy and had to be reminded I cause the suffering), and @crookedlyniceperson who keeps me going with the thought of memes.

Thank you as we enter this last segment of chapters, where we end the war and start the rest of their lives.

“Do they ever stop looking at you like you killed their dog?” Johanna is the one who asks, glancing around half heartedly at the dozens of wary stares being sent their way at any given moment. 

In perfect, offhanded unison, Cato and Glimmer give a resigned “No.”

They had grown used to it. The distrustful looks, the pitiful side glancing, but frankly there was not as much fear or respect one would think these once great victors would garner. 

Then again, they were quite a sight to behold these days. 

Johanna, with hair like a peach fuzz and various track marks from IV after IV for that Morphling hit. 

Clove, who had flayed more than one man alive on television, with skin like violets and nightlock berries from her neck down, bruises blossoming on every inch of that pale canvas. 

Cato and Glimmer, who they had long since deemed as crazy and unstable, but now less of a threat with the return of the carrot they had dangled on the stick before them. 

Really, the only one who even resembled his old self was Marvel. And what threat was he, anyway?

Finnick did not grace them with his presence, nor did Annie, as they were playing peacekeepers between Katniss and Peeta across the room after his attempt on her life not all that many weeks ago.  After all, someone had to keep Miss girl on fire’s embers glowing. Without the supervision of Finnick, Gale likely would have taken Peeta out by now just for his own opportunity to get ahead in the name of protecting Katniss. 

“We kinda did kill their dogs. Well. We killed their kids.” Glimmer reminds her, back to her earlier habits of pushing food around on a tray, slipping hard and fast into her old ways. 

She sits directly next to Clove on the opposite side of Cato, across from Johanna. Next to Johanna is Marvel who still cannot look at her for longer than a second, so far as Glimmer knows at least. 

It’s Clove, of course, who catches him looking when Glimmer is not. 

“We didn’t kill their kids, they weren’t in the games.” Clove rolls her eyes, but stabs her blunt spork into the overly-cooked but under-seasoned green beans. She couldn’t even raise her shoulder parallel to the floor, but they were still unwilling to give her (or Cato, for that matter) a knife. At least someone in this godforsaken place was still scared of her and didn’t see her like a bird with a broken wing. “The twelves mostly finished themselves off every year anyway- for fucks sake would it kill someone to get some salt down here?”

“I would commit a literal war crime for a pizza right now.” Marvel admits, and the tone of his voice sounds like maybe he’s only half joking, that maybe he really would dig a knife into the president of District 13 in exchange for extra pepperoni. 

When the eyes around them firmly land on him, and some of the armed guards tense and take a step forward he puts up a single, defeated hand. “I’m joking. I’m not here to take out the rebellion for a stuffed crust.”  When the guards step back and the weary looks turn away, he does cock an eyebrow and gives a slight nod of his head. “Extra cheese on the other hand..”

Glimmer gives a quiet giggle, though she does not look up from the swirls she makes with the potatoes before her. 

Cato actually laughs, though, in a way he had not in the many months of separation of him and Clove. It was like something in him had come back to life, and it clearly had something to do with the dark haired girl he currently had his arms draped around the shoulders of. “If you’re going to get us shot over pizza we may never have again, at least make it something good. At this point I’d lead this fucking war if it would get me back to a burger.” He gently nudges Clove, who is furiously attempting to stab at whatever they were trying to pass off as a balanced meal. “Come on. What do you miss?”

“What don’t I fucking miss? Our bed. Fabric softener. The use of my arms..” Clove starts to complain, but she looks up and catches the teasing shine in his blue eyes and can’t help but play along. “...half of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, the peanut butter half. And an orange. If we make it out of this, I never want to go a day without real fruit ever again.” She nudges at Glimmer’s knee with her own, before doing the same with her free shoulder. “What about you Glim Glam? What’s your death row choice here?”

How is she supposed to say, oh, nothing, I wasn’t allowed to enjoy food, the thought of eating makes me nauseous? How is she supposed to say that she isn’t quite sure there's anything out there in the world that she’s interested in these days. There’s a memory, though, of a night before Clove became victor officially, of late night snacks in a bed that was not her own but belonged to the man across from Cato. Back when there was still potential and love in her world, that little bit of good that she had had taken from her yet again. 

“...those little cake slices, not cupcakes, but the individual slices so you can try the different flavors. They have them at the parties all the time. And maybe fries?” Glimmer smiles to herself at the memory of salt between bed sheets and frosting on the tips of noses. “And there was this pasta, with like…cheese sauce and It was so so good but I can’t remember what it was called but it was just so good I’d kill to have it again–”

“...mac’n’cheese. That’s what it’s called. You like it with the toasty little breadcrumbs on top of it.” Marvel finishes for her, briefly lifting his head and giving ever so slight of a nod. “I remember it from when-”

“Yeah. I do too.” Glimmer agrees, and is the one to break eye contact as she refocuses down at the scraps of borderline dog food they’re being fed. 

A heavy, powerful silence falling over the table full of victors, a haze no one quite wants to break. Cato taps his thumb on Clove’s shoulder, and she settles into his side contently. Marvel clears his throat and looks around the room awkwardly, not quite focusing on any point or face in particular. 

“...well!” Johanna announces, finally breaking through the silence that permeated their shared space. “I don’t know about you, but the first thing I want, is a fucking drink.”

—————

“Where’s Cato? I haven’t seen you two apart…actually at all, since you got back?” Glimmer invites herself to the foot of Clove’s bed, hands full of bed sheets and thread. “Off in that silly little meeting of boys?”

“Finnick showed up and practically begged him to go.” Clove confirms, pulling herself to a more proper sitting position  and tucking her feet back to sit criss-crossed underneath her.  “I don't know if it was actually a meeting or if he was just trying to make him go get his allotted thirty minutes of fresh air.”   As she sits she tugs at the newly replaced IV in her hand, bringing forward the poll that was attached to the long bit of tubing in her hand, reminded of the inconvenience she thought she had escaped. 

Glimmer reaches out a hand to brush over the back of Clove’s, immediately calling attention to the new intrusion. “Clove! I thought you were done with these?”

“Eh. A small setback. Turns out part of my lung just like..collapsed when I was trying to throw this morning. It was filled with blood, it got pretty nasty. I guess I still have some internal bleeding and bruising.” She pulls down the top of her hospital pajamas, showing the literal tubing coming out from below her clavicle, which is filled with fresh ruby blood. “Shoved this in me, the IV is for the pain. I don’t think I need it but–”

“Your lung collapsed. You have a literal piece of plastic sewed into your skin. And you don’t think you need the pain meds?” Glimmer cocks a blonde eyebrow, before mirroring Clove’s cross legged posture. “You’re stronger than anyone else I know, Clove. Stubborn, but strong nonetheless.” 

She offers Clove a bit of thread and one of her stitching needles, along with  the upper half of some shredded fabric.  It had started off handedly– a story of how Clove used to stitch up Cato, how they had been taught in the academy and how she didn’t want to lose that skill too when people were here to baby her. Someone, Primrose Everdeen maybe, had suggested it may be a good therapeutic exercise for her to use the fine muscles and tendons in her hands, to work on stitching and maintain her fine motor skills. 

Really, though, it was more of a therapy for Glimmer, who desperately needed to feel needed, who desperately needed a friend to distract her brain for a few hours a week. 

It worked out for both of them. 

“Any other injuries you wanna admit to, Clove?” Glimmer inquires, absentmindedly beginning to run a new type of fabric stitch on the opposite end of the fabric from Clove. “You know I have no one to tell.”

“Nope. Just the usual. Broken ribs. All my major joints are useless. A lung that gave out. Oh, some internal bleeding…” Clove tries not to reveal her frustration when she cannot thread the needle, cannot keep the intrinsic muscles of her head steady enough to connect the two pieces. The shaking of her right hand betrays her as she drops the needle, grip strength so diminished she can't even keep hold of it for long enough to throw an anchoring stitch in the fabric.  Clove throws down the fabric in defeat, running her hand now over her face instead. 

“But hey. My skin is coming back together. Just ugly fucking scars for the rest of my life–” Clove reveals the skin of her thigh to Glimmer, the puckering of stitches and the greenish-yellow hue of a bruise starting to dissolve under her skin. “Just fucking great, Glimmer. I’m just great.”

Glimmer drops the fabric, and immediately pushes up the sleeves of her District Thirteen issued henley shirt. Her own scars are not as angry red or freshly bruised, but rather a raised, pink granulated tissue in rivulettes from her elbows to right where her wrist meets her hand. “We all have scars now, Clove. No more magic Capitol tricks  to take them away. I clawed my way out of handcuffs, using blood to lubricate my way out.. We all have scars now that we’re going to carry for the rest of our lives. You are alive. You have Cato. By all standards, you’re dong pretty fucking great compared with the other option here.” 

Glimmer picks up the little fallen needle and wordlessly threads it for Clove, saying nothing nor expecting any gratitude from the other woman for the act. “You have Cato. Who will not leave your side, who shoves into a twin-sized hospital bed with you somehow–”

“We slept in a twin sized bed at the academy when we were sixteen until he won. We’re used to it, is all.”

“It’s still sweet. How he is so insistent on being near you all the time, all he thought about that whole time was you Clove, I’m shocked they even got him away from you now.”

“Yeah well.. I made him go with Finnick, too. It’s not good for him to sit here and treat me like a porcelain doll all the time. For either of us.” Clove takes Glimmer’s offering with no words of thanks, as the exchange would prove too embarrassing of a hit to Clove’s fragile confidence.

Her confidence being the only truly fragile thing about her, may she add.

“He sleeps with me and he is always touching me but it’s like he’s scared to touch me, you know?” Clove explains, hoping it is not too much information for what had become her closest friend. “He thinks I'm fragile.”

“He doesn’t think you’re fragile.” She nearly scoffs, giving a half hearted laugh. “He thinks you’re anything but. He just doesn’t want to hurt you.”

It’s Clove’s turn to scoff and laugh at that. “He has never given a fuck about hurting me. He broke my collarbone the day we met. After he won, he used to push me so hard at training that I couldn’t walk the hundred steps to my room at training. One time he picked me up by the throat and slammed me against a wall until I could escape myself. Our entire lives have been hurting each other–”

“Well you’re not the one getting choked against a wall now, are you?” Glimmer deflects, and a wicked smile floods Clove’s face at the realization of the lighthearted change in topic. 

“I wish I were getting choked against a wall in a different way, you know?” Clove teases, laughing as they fall into a comfortable silence as they work on different types of stitching– human skin or low thread-count sheets. 

“You know Marvel is going to come around, right?” Clove offers out of the blue, seemingly coming from nowhere with the topic change. “You said that all Cato thought about was me, well, that was him too. We shared a wall. Lots of conversations were had through six inches of concrete and all….he’ll come around. He just needs time to remember–”

“Clove, he won’t even look at me. He won’t come around, because he remembers it all just fine. Do you know what he said to me that day? That I used him, that he was just another client to me. He said that…that..that I just picked him because he was there! He doesn’t believe that I love him, Clove. He thinks I just..faked it all.” Glimmer catches the skin of her finger in her needle, and quickly brings the blood drop to her lips to staunch the bleeding. “I didn’t fake a thing. Not with him. He is the only person it was ever real with and I just- I just…I miss him.”

“He loves you too, Glimmer. He never stopped.”

“Yeah, well, he shows it just like every other man I’ve ever met, now.”

—————

“There's my favorite cellmate!” Marvel’s voice pops out, a goofy grin on his face as he lets himself right into her room.

“Let me guess, it’s your turn to babysit me?” Clove slams shut the book she had been reading, some silly novel from long before the dark days in a language that was English but also so much more complicated. The only type of enrichment activity she got these days was mental, it seems. 

“Huh? No, no of course not, no...yeah, actually. Yeah. But! I came because I wanted to see you, not because It’s my turn to keep you supervised.”

Clove swings her legs over the side of the bed, placing her feet firmly on the ground before pushing herself to a standing position. She had quickly discovered if anyone was going to let her get away with something it was going to be Marvel– he was not going to keep her in bed with crafts or insist she not move too much at risk of re-angering an existing injury or worse, making a new one. Maybe it was because he had been there when she was at her absolute worst in the Capitol, right alongside her, but he didn’t quite treat her like her skin was made of glass. “Let me guess, another meeting of all the victors but us?”

“The privilege of being the special ones who got pulled out of the arena apparently comes with a security clearance.” Marvel shrugs, nodding his head enthusiastically towards the door. “Peeta bread down the hall is in therapy, Johanna went backwards today in terms of progress with water, and Annie is..well she’s Annie. Oh but us, we’re the big scary careers remember? We’re the little captiol plants, that's why they tried to kill you, makes it more believable you know?” 

Clove hops off the bed and practically scurries towards the door, at the chance to escape her sterile prison at any slight opportunity that arises. As she gets closer to her chaperone she notices the permanent marker writing on his arm. “Look at you, you got slave to district thirteen privilege, what are you blowing off right now?”

“History of Nuclear Defense. It’s pretty cool, but I can’t look at that guy from twelve for more than fifteen minutes-”

“Well you are the one who threatened to stab him for cheesecake, Marvel.”

“I was kidding! Mostly!” Marvel gestures to the left to turn out of the hallway, the long way away from the fellow prison (hospital) cells of their friends and fellow victors. Other than Annie, he has had the hardest time accepting what has happened to them, and even more so why he was left without the physical scars of his friends. “Apparently Cato and Glimmer have both gone after him, I think our turn is long overdue.”

They take their government mandated stroll up and down the hall, back and forth, as they do any day that Marvel gets assigned Clove duty. It’s the most exercise anyone will let Clove have, the most autonomy, even. 

“Have you heard anything about back home? Noone will tell me shit, and I don’t know if they don’t know or if they’re trying to spare my feelings like I'm a child who can’t handle the reality of war.” He half whispers, all too aware (and maybe even a little paranoid, after their time in the capitol) that someone is always listening for something even the littlest bit treasonous to slip their lips so they can be hung in the proverbial town square. 

“Glimmer knows nothing about Gloss and Cashmere. They can’t tell me anything about Enobaria. I thought asking every day would break them but-” Clove gives half a shrug, kicking her feet along the concrete floors. “Noone can tell me anything about her. We don’t know about Brutus, either. All Cato wants to know is about his sister. I don’t think anyone knows. Or if they do, they’re keeping it from all of us.”

He doesn’t respond, just gives a nod at the reality of their situation. If anyone knows anything, it is well hidden from all of them. “You know, I’m not glad you’re still in the hospital, but I’m glad Cato sleeps with you, he’s supposed to be my roommate. We have fucking roommates, what is this, war boarding school? Between this and the classes, I feel like they left some gaps in our education in the districts. Who knew we should know how to do nuclear fission by eighteen.”

“I literally don’t even know what those words mean.” She half-laughs, shaking her head in disapproval. “Other than the games and then, you know, the capitol, I have barely spent a night away from him since we were sixteen. I think you’re safe to push the beds together to make yourself one big one, because he won’t be there anytime soon.” 

Clove supposed that meant that Glimmer was meant to be her roommate when all was said and done. In another life, they probably would have switched in the dark of the night, Clove and Marvel or Glimmer and Cato, rearranging the sleeping arrangements in a way that would scandalize the upper-administration of thirteen and they would not have cared. All they would have cared about is having been together, at whatever cost. Things are different, now, though.

“You need to talk to her.”

“I don’t want to talk to her.”

“Marvel I do not know what they said to you in those last couple of days before we got out, but a week before all you wanted in the entire world was to see her again.” Clove reminds him in a voice that can only be described as lecturing. “All you have to do is talk to her, you’ll know she meant it all.”

“I just can’t get it out of my head, Clove. That all along she was just using me. Over and over and over again, I just hear them telling me that it never would have been me. Why would it be me?” His eyebrows are just slightly knit together, and there's a hesitation in his voice that Clove can recognize as doubt. 

Doubt. The strongest force in the world, like a spell that needs no more than a drop to permeate every inch of your being, to consume you. To burn you to the ground. 

“Because you’re you. And she’s her. And I’m Clove, and he’s Cato. It makes sense just because it does. Some things just…are. And this is one of them.” She has nothing better to say, because there is no stronger answer. 

Somethings are just meant to be because they simply are. 

They pace in a peaceful albeit tense silence, for about five more minutes before the overhead alarm signals to them that a change in activity will happen in exactly five minutes, and her other supervisors will return.

“...you know that Glimmer and Cato got to go to the armory, right?” Clove informs him with a heavy, heavy sigh. “Cato gets target practice and I’m barely allowed out of bed. How’s that fair? I’m going fucking crazy, Marvel.”

“You almost died, you psycho, I think they’re just being cautious. Besides, you were already crazy.”

“I’m not made of porcelain or glass or ceramics. I trained in the best training academy in the country for ten years, I won the fucking Hunger Games.” Clove slams her hand into the door, blocking their entrance back in. “Do you think I'm some little broken winged bird?”

“You don’t have to tell me that, Clove. I was there. I know what you survived. I wouldn’t have. I don’t think anyone else would have.” He gently nudges her hand out of the way so he can make sure she actually goes back to her room. “You know, it probably wouldn’t have been so bad if you had just given them the screams they wanted.”

Clove scoffs. “That's rule number one. Never show weakness. That gets you killed. And besides, I only scream for one person.” She gives him a playful nudge with her shoulder as she pushes past him. 

Who would have thought. At one time she saw him as one of the most annoying victors she had ever met, and now, he was the only person treating her like she had her own two legs to stand on.

Damn. Maybe trauma bonding is real. 

“I don’t need babysitting, you know, Marvel.”

“Trust me, I Know that. Convince everyone else.”

—————

“It’s okay, Clove, you’ll get it back–”

Clove lets out a frustrated scream, throwing the knife to the ground. Finally, finally, she had gotten a knife back in her hand in the training room, a moment she had been working toward for weeks. She had expected it to be muscle memory, truly her second nature, and come back to her as easily as it had back when she was five years old and threw for the first time. 

Apparently muscles lose their memory when they are severed. 

“No, Cato, it isn’t fucking okay!” She grabs another one of the knives– albeit not the best quality, but she cannot blame that. She could kill with a plastic butter knife, before– and as soon as she raises her arm she nearly drops the knife from the sharp pain that runs through her shoulder. “This is all I fucking have, this is all I am, and I can’t do it. I could do this when I was five.”

The couple of throws she had managed to succeed in executing failed in other ways, each three feet away from even hitting her target. A failure, by academy standards. 

“Baby, this is not all you are.”

“How would you feel? If the only thing that has ever made you remarkable was just..gone? This is all I have, yes it is. This is as close as I’ve ever felt to my mother, who chose the games over me, this is the only thing that kept my grandmother choosing to keep me alive, the hope that i’d actually win. I was tiny and frail looking then but I was good. I was the best. This is all I have, Cato. This is all I am, and now I'm not.” Clove tries, again, to bring her arm past parallel with the floor, and the pain is nearly unbearable. She does not cry. She does not show it. But god, god does it hurt deep in her bones. 

“If this is hurting you, you need to stop, Clove.” Stupid Cato. Stupid Cato and his ability to know even the slightest change in her face, to be able to notice even her slightest tells. “You just need time and that's okay.”

“And what the fuck got into YOU Cato? What the fuck is this ‘you need to stop’ shit?” Clove snaps, stepping forward to grab him by the center of his shirt, pulling him forward with a jerk of her arms. “What happened to the person who broke me, and ran me until I threw up, and never once, not a single time, took fucking pity on me? What happened to the person who wanted to make me a better tribute, who wanted to make me a better fucking victor even when we were going to kill each other? I’m not broken, Cato, don’t treat me like I am.”

Cato shakes his head, and drops his hands to his side, before very very gently grabbing her upper arms. “Clove, I don’t want to hurt you, it’s not worth it.”

“Oh since fucking when don’t you want to hurt me? Pick me up by the throat and make me fight my way out, Cato!” Clove practically begs, deep eyes searching his face in desperation, pleading for understanding, 

“That was to make you survive, Clove, not fucking kill you.” He tries, gently tightening his grip on her arms. “This isn’t all you are, Clove, not anymore. Not ever.”

“Cato, stop! Treat me like your fucking partner. Treat me like me, Treat me like you’re Cato and I’m Clove and we have spent our entire lives making each other better. I am begging you, treat me like me.” Clove sees the hesitation in his face, in the way he looks from her eyes to her nose to avoid the desperation in her eyes, and knows she has him. She grabs his right hand and pushes it up to the top of her shoulder.  “Brace my shoulder, and do NOT let it go. If I cry or scream. Do not let it go.”

Something snaps in Cato, or maybe something reawakens, but he gives a firm, hard squeeze at the junction of her arm and her shoulder, feeling the tendons separate and slip underneath his fingers.  Clove’s legs nearly give out, and it takes all she has not to whine in the true agony at the feeling of her joints sliding over each other again. He does not let go, or loosen the grip he has on her swelling shoulder joints. Cato twists her in his arms, facing her out towards the targets. “Go. Throw.” 

His other arm is wrapped around her waist, and holds her up as her legs beg to give out and bring her to the ground. As her throws hit closer and closer to the target, Cato doesn’t comment on how he can tell exactly how hard she is struggling to breathe, or how he can feel her other hand shaking at her side. 

“I have an idea.” Cato begins, finally letting go of her arm and her body and trying to ignore the soft whine that she lets out when he does. “Not that they’re letting us anywhere near a war but,” 

He reaches for the same deep silver gun he had picked up all those weeks ago, when he and Glimmer had been given free range for an hour with Beetee taking pity on them.  “Easier to hit with this.”

Cato slips it from his hands to hers, and notices the way her hand nearly falls at the weight of the weapon. Before the frustrated look can even befall her face, he has her back in front of him, with both of his hands on top of hers. He raises her hands in his, holding them out infront of her. “You’ll like it, at least until your arms are better.” 

“Easy now, baby.” Cato whispers in her ear, “You’ve got it.” He promises, and when she finally pulls the trigger, he catches her back against his chest when the kickback reverberates through her and sends her a few inches backwards. “There you go,” Cato kisses right below her ear, just before she twists in his arms to face him. 

The smile stretched across her face is worth it all in that moment, the wicked, dark energy she is so known for all but painted in her eyes. 

“I knew you’d like that.” Cato teases, only slightly off guard when the metal falls to the ground with a loud cling and he feels her pulling him back. It’s effortless when he naturally lifts her by her waist onto the armory table, in a spot between the guns and knives and various weapons of choice for the assorted victors in thirteen. 

Clove threads her fingers through the hair at the base of his neck and oh she is alive, alive alive again. As she pulls him down on top of her, she pauses only for a moment before catching his lips with hers. 

“Remember, I’m not broken.”

“I know, Clove.” 

[el-is-away]

more h because i love this guy. he is very much a dad to everything that is pocketsized (even though he will deny it) but first of all he is a dad for jioxa. also wrote a bio for him but ill put it under there ↓ (+a horny!)

NAME — The (Solemn) Hunter. Or simply H, as in "ache".

AGE — 12 years

GENDER — Cis male

PRONOUNS — he/him

SPECIES — Sylvari

CLASS — Virtuoso

OCCUPATION — The Order of Whispers member, a slayer, infamous bounty hunter.

APPEARANCE — The Hunter is a dark-green cored sylvari of a hefty, muscular build, of a substantial height. His hair is long, coarse, very leafy, resembling lots of vines, that bloom in spring and eminate pollen. He has green eyes and glow. His face is always neutral, leaning towards grumpy, but most ofthen hidden by a bird-like mask. He has a sharp, slightly prolongued chin, almost as if having a goatee.

PERSONALITY — The H is silent, collected, smart and calculating. Always on edge and serious, he doesn't talk much — very rarely he answers questions or gets involved in a conversation, often just staying mute, as if ignoring the other person. That's a good thing: when Hunter actually talks, it's usually something painfully honest and mean, as he doesn't mince words, or shy away from harsh truths. It's hard to get him mad, per se, but annoyed he gets very unpredictably: might be soon, might be later, might get instantly. No way of telling. Not very sociable and extremely secretive, you will never get to properly know him. You can tag along and look, of course, to learn his techniques and patterns of thinking, but in reality there is almost no way of getting close to this dude, as if he has put up a hundred metaphorical walls between himself and the world around him.

BACKSTORY — After awakening, the newborn Hunter was almost just like he is now: then brash and overly serious, angry and trouble-seeking, he was a menace to those around him. Constantly getting into fights, he was swiftly escorted out of the Grove with his pod brother, Pryman, to fend for his own, as he was not really in the mood to be learning or understanding. Skidaddling to the Lion's Arch portal, the two of them visited the city and even tried to call it their home for a little moment. There Pryman met his first love, while Hunter didn't and lived a life of indulging in random encounters and fights. He watched from the side, as his brother was being runied by this one particular charr — and payed no mind to it, as he as well, was slowly sinking into a path of violence. Then Pryman lost his eye in a fight — and that kind of broke him. But that didn't break Hunter. He was thrilled, that Pry had taken things that far — and it even kind of excited him. He wasn't mad at his brothers abuser — he was glad that he taught him a lesson, and that didn't sit right with Pry, who was already realising, that the start of their life is not going as well, as it should. There was too much violence, he said, but Hunter thrived in it. While Pry hated it. They had to split ways almost immediately, even though Hunter was really fond of his brother — they were twins, after all, and their bond was strong. That, on the other hand, hit H really hard. He sunk into a pit of loneliness, as everyone that he met reminded him of his brother, who has gone to make his own way and wanted to do nothing with him. He was too good for Hunter, and he knew that. To hide the pain, H shoved it deep inside his soul, internalizing and deciding, that trust and love is to be avoided at all costs. He decided to pick up the only things that he was good at — killing, fighting and pathfinding — as his job, and become a bounty hunter. It went well. So well even, that he was soon approached by an Order of Whispers members and taken in as an agent and slayer. That didn't go so great at first, as the teams that he gotten into were not fond of his meanness and lack of cooperation. Being thrown around for a little while before finally taken by Waexie to the newly founded BWTCH team, he was finally kind of settled. He had a little rivalry there with one of the members, Bree, but.. Then Mordremoth happened. There he lived through the Mordremoth assault, barely being able to keep himself sane — as from the loss and bitterness, that accumulated in him with time, the call was hard to ignore. So afterwards he became even less talkative than he was — the experience was traumatic, and working through his problems he is very much uncapable of with those trust issues.. In BWTCH he made a "friend" (even though H himself hates that word) — Semeeas, a toxic, agressive sylvari, that had recently was put into their squad. Meeting a similarly bitter soul to himself, H was kind of humbled by he dude, and didn't mind his company as much. They were working in a pair often, with time even becoming friends with benefits. But the "friends with benefits" thing wasn't really reciprocated, as when Hunter (who was already infamous for his promiscuity) slept with someone else, he was quickly ditched by his newly acquired partner and left alone again. Right now his partner on the job is Jioxa, that he is somewhat protective of.

no more words look at horny

[sepyana]

Jjba Stone Ocean Ep 1 - 12 Thoughts

The main characters in part 6 have great designs. I think they might be my favourite. I like how much green, blue and gray is used. The core cast also has accents of yellow and orange, to give it a warm twist.

(This is a tangent but one thing I don't get is why does eveyone have their shoes connected with their pants. I guess since they are inmates they wouldn't need to take them off all that much but what about Jotaro? Does he walk in his house with the shoes he used outside? Do Americans do that? I checked and apparently some of them do. I don't understand at all. You are just making more work for yourself.)

The side characters I am a bit more mixed on. They don't hit the spot for me personally. They aren't all that memorable. Except for Gwess maybe.

The animation is worse that vento aureo imo but it has the issue of being overly detailed like it. I've always loved hatching but this just feels like extra workload. I don't understand why DP is so adamant about following the manga as closely as possible. I still like the animation but I've been thinking this for a while.

The Main Cast

Jolyne: I like her. She is like if Joseph wasn't a piece of shit. She is kind but not a pushover. She is suppose to be older than most of the other protags but she acts similarly to them. She can be very reckless sometimes but she doesn't really experience the consequences of that, not yet anyway. I am not saying these to insult her at all. She is the JoJo whi gave the bedt first impression to me. I also find it funny that the moonlight is enough to turn her on. My girl is an artist, a poet even.

The daddy issues are pretty obvious. She tries to catch his attention by commiting crimes. This need for attention shows a bit in her relationship with Romeo also.

Stone Free is 👌🏻👌🏻. My one complaint about her design would be that she doesn't have much interesting going on below the chest. The dotted pattern is cool but it doesn't give an interesting siluette. It's powers are the best part. She is close range like Star Platinum but she can unravel her arm to get range like Sticky Fingers. Stone Free is like if Hierophant was op. It's is faster, has more attacking power, seems more durable also, it allows Jolyne to unravel herself as well. My main issue is that it seems to pull shit out of its ass sometimes with just how much its strings can do.

Ermes: She is the more experienced one as she has been to prison before. She is the angry to Jolyne's cool. Thus she has the most warm colors in her design! Jolyne was always a delinquient but Ermes definitely one ups her in that regard. She is a lot more blunt and less trusting. She is also suppose to be masculine in the way she talks. She still has a feminine design though. I wouldn't really call her butch.

I don't like her stand though. I got a bit used to it but even still. It just looks ugly. I'm not too keen on its powers either. It damaging the copy when it merges hinders it more than it helps most of the time.

F.F. : I didn't imagine they would end up being so goofy. Their first appearance made them seem uninterested in connecting with humans but that couldn't be further from the truth. They are more than happy to talk once you get to know them. They are really excited about everything and I just find that lovely to be honest. I got a lil emotional when Jolyne saved them. Maybe shed a tear or two. Perhaps. I also love their design. The hat (?) is adorable. They contrast with the rest of the gang pretty well. They are my favourite so far :)

Emporio: Emporio is one of those characters that is hard to hate. I can't really find much to say about him yet. He is more of a plot device at this point. There is a lot you could do with him. He has literary grown up inside a prison. He has a lot of potential.

Weather Report: He seems like a nice person. I like his design a lot like the others. Especially the hair-hat. His memories were stolen by Pucci. It makes you think. Why is he in prison in the first place? I read somewhere that him and Pucci are brothers. That would explain some things.

Jotaro: Divorcecore Jotaro is here with his most insane fit yet. I have a lot to say I also have nothing to say. Just look at him. I'm not really surprised Jotaro "I am going to put myself in prison because I am afraid I will hurt my close ones" Kujo would separate himself from his family to protect them. Stands attract other stands, sure, but Jolyne would have been targeted by Dio's servants regardless since she is a Joestar. What if something like that happened while Jotaro was away? She got into prison before she got a stand and she would have gotten killed there. I don't really know what to think of Jotaro at this point. I remember when people were talking about this a few years ago. Almost all my mutuals are into jojo for some reason so I saw Stone Ocean in my dash a lot.

In the eye catches there was some text under the development potential of Star Platinum but I didn't wanna bother translating it.

Pucci: Imagine Dio being your best friend in 40 years of being on this Earth. I find hit hard to think Dio having a connection with anyone let alone a 16 year old who he spent a year with max. He says he met him in 1988, Sdc took place that year also I think.

Pucci saying Dio has a century worth of wisdom is pretty funny cuz while he is that old, he slept thru most of that so he is still pretty young.

Also, I just think it's silly that Pucci's entire plan relies on Jotaro still remembering the contents of a book he read more than 20 years ago at this point. Not to mention the few pages he read just happening to be the ones Pucci wants. That makes Pucci seem like a moron but it is funny so I'll give it pass.

[gaymerasmus]

OMG UR REQS R OPEN!

Can I request a tf2 matchup pls?

I apologise in advance, this is a long one.

Physical appearance:

- I’m not tall [*cough*like5’1*cough*] | I’m a bloody stick, some average meat but I’m still a lanky lil shit.

- Short undercut brunette hair with [somewhat emo] right-sweeping bangs, they naturally sweep left but look fluffier when swept right.

- I am in fact, whiter than sour-cream with very-very light freckles on my face, you gotta be CLOSE to see them.

- I have weird, blue-ish/green-ish/grey eyes. I swear I’ll never know their real colour because they pull a one-two-switcheroo depending on lighting.

- I wear big, thick-lensed, thin black-frame glasses and due to my rapidly declining eyesight I am practically blind without them.

- My right eyebrow has a slit cause I got bored, but I like it and it’s staying (and a piercing bc I can)

- I have size 10[?] gauges [/stretchers, whatever you call the things that stretch your earring holes], I plan to go bigger.

- I tend to wear a lot of black clothing and I have a very punk/alt/emo/grunge style. That, or I’ll look like a dad in cargo shorts and an over shirt thats given up.

About me:

- Trans guy | He/Him pronouns | Preferred name is Corvinn | Gay

- Aussie, very prominent accent, have been mistaken for a Brit because of ‘how I speak’ [I cuss more than a sailor]?

- Diagnosed with A.D.H.D., anxiety, depression and high functioning A.S.D. [that’s the main shit, the combination also causes insomnia lol] | Excess stimulation causes overloads and makes me temporarily non-verbal | My brain gets overly bored if there’s a lack of stimulation | I don‘t know SL because I started having non-verbal episodes in 8th grade. I’ll communicate using my phones notes app, tts or a very confusing game of charades | Stims include; flappy hands when emotionally overwhelmed, rapid leg bouncing when I’m anxious/focusing/listening to music, playing with my/the ear lobes of a person I trust for comfort | I twitch on occasion, I don’t think it’s serious; just painful-ish head/neck/shoulder jerks and non-painful leg/arm jerks accompanied by a grunt/verbal tic [I mainly squeak]/strained face | I have a bad habit of apologising/excusing myself after I twitch | Mental health is poor but I’m trying to get better and I think I’m heading in the right direction.

- Extremely self-conscious of my voice [think it’s too high] and height:(

- Self-taught aspiring artist of 8/9 years now | I do both digital and physical art | Tend to be more digital | When I do physical art it’s mostly sketching and watercolours | Plan to become a body artist in future.

- I’m easily excitable, but I’m told it’s annoying so I try not to but then that kind of leads to me not showing any outward emotion which also upsets people.

- I can sew and I own a sewing machine | Fun fact, I wanted to be a cosplayer when I was younger. Settling for a show-off in my textiles class [friend of mine’s a model/influencer and I’m gonna turn them into dress-up doll lmao].

- I was raised on shit like Korn, SlipKnot and LimpBizkit- I gotta fight to stay awake when metal is playing in the car.

- Favourite colour is all of them.

- I wanna get more piercings; left lower-lip, septum, and venoms.

- My Dad doesn’t think I can sing but a bunch of people have said otherwise. I’m currently at the point where I have no stage but I must sing.

Interests:

- I’m interested in textile practices.

- The Walten Files

- Marble Hornets

- Creepypasta

- Slasher films

- Hazbin Hotel/Heluva Boss

- DSMP

- Horror and paranormal shit

- ARG’s [I suck, but I enjoy watching others]

- FNAF [here since 2016, will cause physical altercations if opposed]

- All of animation YouTube

- Video essays on weird and obscure shit.

- Beloved YouTube blorbos include; CJ the X, Grayson projects, HarleyTBS, Izzzyzzz, Quinton Reviews, Chad Chad, LS Mark, Danny Gonzalez, Drew Goodeen, Mama Max, Nexpo, Manlybadasshero, Markiplier, Jacksepticeye, Neytirix, Noah Finnce, The Click, Sagan Hawkes, Pagan Valley, Wendigoon, Strange æons, Super Eyepatch Wolf, TFIL, Game Theory, TomSka, Pyrocynical, and many more.

- True crime

- Current main hyperfixation; MCR.

- According to 2021’s Spotify wrapped, my top genres were; #1 - Emo | #2 - Otacore | #3 - Metalcore | #4 DreamSMP[???] | #5 - Indie Pop | I think my music taste currently lies in punk/punk rock, modern rock, metal, emo, ska, and a lil bit of vocaloid.

- I love animals. I used to have a pure black cat, he ded now tho:(

- Video games.

Dislikes:

- Seafood

- Rumours

- Twitter drama [unless someone like TRO is feeding it to me in form of a video essay], if I have to hear about one more person being cancelled by a random group of 13 year old white girls over literally nothing I am going to flip my shit😀

- Country/opera/classical music [to be fair, I’ll listen to classical but it just sends me to sleep, it’s too slow for me, sorry]

- Trolls [I’m fine when it’s harmless and all in good fun but when it gets toxic is where I draw the line]

- And a lot of fandoms I refuse to name because they are really toxic and will stop at nothing to find me🚪🏃‍♂️💨🧍‍♂️

Sorry this is so long, hope it’s okay. You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, no pressure! Anyway, it’s super la- early. I’m going to bed. Have a nice [insert time here]. Also, thanks and remember to take care of yourself!

Hullo hullo welcome and thank you!! You are paired with...

Demoman!!

Honestly this one was a really close call, but when I really thought about it I couldn't get Mr. Explodey Man out of my head. He sees you as super passionate and well rounded, both qualities he can appreciate! This man comes from a very straightforward and strict upbringing, so having your radiant personality and look nearby is honestly pretty refreshing for him.

I can see your dynamic including a lot of hurt/comfort influences, as well as some partners in crime and like a little friends to lovers vibe. He's very much an optimist and loves keeping your spirits up! He understands a lot of what you're going through (*coughs*t4t*coughs*) so expect a lot of advice and validating comments. Definitely tries to get you into some mischievous activities when bored, trouble is this guy's middle name (it's actually Finnegan). That's not to say he doesn't mind lounging about the house, learning about one of your interests through videos you watch or just listening to you ramble. He might fall asleep on you if you're not careful tho.

Demoman is also a very adaptable man. He's been around and seen a lot in his time, so he comes perfectly prepared for nearly everything you may need from him. It does surprise him at first when exposed to your stims and tics, but only for a moment! He finds stims that show your trust endearing, and certainly doesn't mind getting anything you need if you're having a bad day. He definitely seems like the type to catch on to what the different stims mean pretty quick. If he notices you're getting anxious he may subtly rest a hand on your leg, or lead you away from an area until you're no longer overstimulated. Once he learns about your non-verbal bouts he always keeps a pen and notepad nearby. Just very subtle and gentle things that shows he cares because he really really does.

He also adores your music taste!! Very chaotic instrumentals and throaty singing gets him all kinds of hyped. He tries to pass that hype on to you and it works about 99% of the time. When you're both bouncing with energy he'll gladly take you out somewhere to burn energy (and cause trouble). The best thing about Tavish is that this man can make anything fun. Simple things like taking out the trash, running errands, even going on a quiet walk end up becoming your most cherished memories with him. He always hums a tune from songs you like when he picks up on you smiling more.

Expect to meet his mother!! I have a feeling he plays it a bit old school when it comes to relationships, so he'd absolutely insist upon you meeting her. He also just really loves his mom. When you're both ready he invites you to his (fucking huge) house for tea. He's very confident you'll hit it off right away! It starts slow, but once you mention your experience with textiles she beams. Having experience herself; she happily shows you some pieces she's made for her family and for her. She asks that you update her with anything you make in the future, so I think you can safely say she likes you. It makes demoman very happy to see you getting along.

To summarize; he absolutely adores your presence in his life. He'll try his absolute best to make you happy, and loves laughing with you about anything and everything. I hope you liked it!!

[electronicgrowth]

Untitled HotD Series Intro

AN: Okay, this is the beginning snippet of that series I had posted about earlier. I don’t have a name for it yet, I’m playing with some ideas (it will probably be a reference to a song tbh). This is like a prequel of the prequel. I just thought this was an interesting theme to explore within the context of war and the Dance of Dragons. This chapter includes only one original character, the other characters you have already met in the show. You may love them, you may hate them. But here they all get a degree of sympathy. This may undergo edits at some point, but I will definitely let ya’ll know if that happens. I’m not sure when I’ll post the next chapter. I wrote this part really fast and was obsessed with how it came out. So, I got overly excited to post. Here we go! 

WC: 1.1k

“Almost every woman I have ever met has a secret belief that she is just on the edge of madness, that there is some deep, crazy part within her, that she must be on guard constantly against ‘losing control’— of her temper, of her sexuality, of her feelings, of her ambition, of her secret fantasies, of her mind.” Elana Dykewoman 

Dear reader,

When does childhood end? It is different for us all. So, I suppose there is no correct answer. For boys the transition into men is slow, and even after the transition men are able enjoy a certain level of freedom that women never can. 

For little girls the transition happens overnight. And simultaneously, it does not happen at all. One day all little girls wake up, and they are expected to act as a woman, but on the inside they are still that same, scared child. She does not know how to be a woman. She is simply pretending. And she carries on pretending until the day she dies. What does such pretending do to a person? Does it make them mad? 

In the early years of life, little girls are protected by their fathers. The day the guts most girls into women, is the day they discover that their father is not infallible. Realizing that your father is a man, is like losing your religion. If he can allow such atrocities to happen, how can he a god? How can he be my father? He will impose his will upon you, he will not be kind. He is still a man. He will hurt you. His world is about him. Was it all a lie? All those years of protection and affection? Or does that affection fade away once you begin to become your own person? Your father can no longer view you solely as an extension of himself. He will beat you back into line. Back to where he thinks you ought to be. The end of childhood is where our story begins.

We must start long before the main players of our story. We must start with their mothers, and the little girls their mothers once were. 

First, there is Lady Rhea Royce. An only child. She was privileged to be treated almost like the son her father never had. She learned to ride, hunt, and fight. She was a strong girl. Her family was wealthy and she would make a good wife to a man one day. 

Rhea’s childhood ended the day her father told her that she was to wed a man she didn’t even know. Upon her first meeting with said man, she discovered that he was filled with disdain for her. Her mother said that would fade. It never did. Rhea hated her husband, Prince Daemon Targaryen. And he hated her right back. 

Any hope that Rhea had of love was shredded to microscopic pieces. And even worse was the fact that she knew that even if she did have children, those children would be her husband’s. They would be Targaryens, never Royces. She wondered how that was fair.

Next, there was Lady Celia Tully. 

She was the fourth daughter of Lord Bywin Tully. She had little to no chance of marrying the first born son of any leal family. Although, she was beautiful. She had flowing red hair and enchanting green eyes. And she had curves any man would kill to see. Celia knew that she was beautiful, and that was the problem. Stable boys and Lords of Riverlands alike were enamored with Celia. She thought she was untouchable. And they say that pride cometh before the fall. And fall she did.

Celia soon became acquainted with how violent men can be to get what they want. Sometimes nothing can stop a man from hurting you. And no one cares that he’s the one who did the hurting. It’s somehow still the woman’s fault. Why did you entice him? Why didn’t you fight back harder? You must have made him think you wanted it. The woman is left in carnage. Carnage she must wade through to find the pieces of herself. It is knee deep. Nearly impossible to find every missing piece and put them back together. And when you are finally through reassembling yourself, you must clean up the carnage. And you must do it with grace. Celia learned grace at her mother’s feet, but it didn’t save her. And it wouldn’t save her own children either. 

Then, there was Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen. Rhaenyra could pinpoint the exact moment her childhood ended. And it was the day her mother died. Died in the birthing bed. Died in pursuit of a son, an heir for her father. And yet the babe didn’t even live. Her mother’s life was forfeit, for nothing. And it was her father’s fault. 

He told the maester to cut her mother. He relentlessly pursued a son, when truly he did not need one. Was she so unworthy of the Iron Throne? Rhaenyra’s father fell. He fell the farthest out of nearly any father we will speak of. He fell from beloved father to the reason she was motherless. A hard loss to bear.

And yet, Rhaenyra had to deal with her father wedding another woman. No, another girl. Her best friend, Lady Alicent Hightower. 

Oh, Lady Alicent. Is she not the most tragic of our mothers? Her father used her as a tool. A pawn in a game. But how could she ever say no to her father? Or her King? This was not the life she wanted, and yet she would still be punished for reaching for it. 

She would be ridiculed for attempting to make the best of her situation. For trying to protect her children. Yes! She made mistakes. Why is she not allowed to make mistakes? She wanted to scream that at the world. Into a void. But no one would ever answer. 

Finally, we have the youngest of our mothers. Lady Laena Velaryon. Laena’s childhood died alongside Rhaenyra’s and Alicent’s. She quickly discovered that her childhood. Her life. Her body was forfeit if it meant getting her father one step closer to the Iron Throne. The girl had not even bled yet, and was being forced to court a man who could have been her father. 

Lady Laena was lucky, where Lady Alicent was not. The king took Alicent to wife, and Lady Laena got several more years of freedom. She even got to chose her own husband. But soon her husband would prove to be a man. Someone who would let her down. Someone who would not listen to her. 

Each woman thought of her loss of childhood with the birth of her first child. Would this child, and the ones that followed be subjected to such an early loss of childhood? Could it be stopped? Could the child be protected? 

Unfortunately, the answer was no. Their child would have even shorter childhoods than their mothers. Perhaps, their grandchildren may be more fortunate. Maybe. But this is Westeros after all. 

[palskippah]

Hi! You saw preg Bowuigi, but may I present to you… preg Mareach ✨

The thought won't leave my mind after I mindlessly drew Mario asking Luigi how is it to be pregnant and then it escalated from there 😔

So! Here's some headcanons (that you can find too in the drawings) for this:

Edit! I deleted the suggestive-y ideas to make it more all viewers-friendly, sorry!

-Mario and Luigi's mamma and uncle are twins, so they have this 'twin gene', and it just so happens that Mario got twins first try and Luigi didn’t.

-Mario has thoughts when seeing his bro expecting, he develops a serious case of baby fever that he refuses to tell anyone about. Like he catches himself thinking about him and Peach expecting and her acting in the overly attentive way that Bowser does, or thinking of a tiny blonde baby with a button nose and blue-sky eyes. He feels a bit guilty about these thoughts.

-Luigi eventually pries the information out of Mario and tries to convince him to talk to Peach about it, that she’d be understanding even if she doesn’t like the idea. Mario’s stubborn and just doesn’t and feels bad for wanting a baby too just because his bro is going to have one.

-To Mario’s surprise (and relief) it’s Peach who mentions the idea of having children (he feels a bit embarrassed that she easily used the exact words he scolded himself for: “I want a baby”), so they shyly entertain the idea.  And they decide they'd like to be parents in the future.

-When Magma (that's the Bowuigi baby's name!) grows and gets to the toddler stage, Mario finally decides that they could start trying.

-(Corny and I pulled this from Deadpool 2 but) He gives the 'green light' to Peach as a sort of anniversary gift and she's so happy she jumps in place and holds him to her chest and rambles about what to name the baby and how they'd look and what they'll do together and– Mario jokingly reminds her that first she's gotta put a baby in him for that to happen.

-Luigi is really excited when Mario and Peach tell him that they’re expecting. He hugs them both and says he can’t wait to finally be an uncle, and that they’ll be great parents.

-Luigi spoils his bro the same way Mario did with him when he was expecting Magma, like baking him treats and his favorite foods whenever they’re at their house and overall being a very good bro.

-Soon Peach arranges a room to make a nursery and plans how it’ll be.

-When they discover it's twins she makes arrangements again to adapt it for two babies, assigning a color to each baby’s things, because she thinks that Mario and Luigi having their signature colors is adorable.

-When they’re back from the doctor after discovering they’ll have twins, they’re both happily thinking about two children. Peach of snuggly wrapped little babies with round noses and brunette hair, and Mario for some reason thinks of two blonde toddlers with matching hats and blue overalls.

-Mario's belly looks big soon and Peach is over the moon because he's so round and handsome.

-He's so shaped.

-Due to almost all of the Mushroom Kingdom citizens being small Mario often loses sight of them, especially when talking to toads. They love to stand close and right in front of him, even if Mario tells them to stand at his side so he can see them. Mario's pretty sure not even the toads can see him over his belly and yet they don't listen.

-Mario lives at Peach's castle but he and Luigi still kinda often stay at their own little house at the outskirts of Toad Town. Luigi sometimes goes by himself or brings some of his children. They like to have some kind of peace apart from their families and the royalness of it all. (Thinking about the fact that Bowser went on a vacation by himself as Junior said once in a game sjdks)

-Peach is very excited for the babies and she always asks for permission to caress his belly and to hold it and to kiss it. She talks a lot to the babies too, even at times holding very long one-sided conversations with them while Mario listens in with an absolutely besotted smile.

-Many nights, when Mario's sprawled on his side with his arms in weird positions and snoring away and Peach's at his back holding him, she mumbles on and on sweet words to her children and her boyfriend, and holds Mario closely.

-Ever since they know he's expecting, Peach randomly suggests baby names to Mario, who shakes his head or actually explains why he doesn't like them. She suggests one day a couple of names just for funsies and to her surprise Mario loves them.

-Peach leaves their bed very early to focus on her royal duties all morning, while Mario's asleep almost until midday surrounded by an insane amount of red and pink pillows.

-Peach eats red power up mushrooms to be able to easily carry Mario around when he gets too tired, that way she doesn't get tired either.

-Late on Mario gets the 'pregnancy brain', he forgets things and sometimes does stupid stuff. Once at their house he dropped a fork, and since it never crossed his mind to ask for help or pick another one from the kitchen cabinet, he ended up stuck in a crouch when trying to reach it, yelling for Luigi to come help him up.

-Donkey Kong and Mario are mean besties, and DK often teases Mario and vice versa. Like DK purposefully drops something and asks in a faux nice voice for Mario to pick it up for him, then does the laugh™ as Mario stares at him unamused.

-DK used to (gently) push Mario to sit in soft furniture and laugh at him for getting stuck. Mario would sulk and cross his arms over his belly until the stupid monkey dignified himself to help him up. Until DK did it one day that Mario had been particularly tired about the pregnancy, and besides the usual reaction he also got misty-eyed and his lower lip wobbled. DK freaked out and couldn't figure out how to console him as Mario silently cried. Peach almost obliterated DK on the spot when she caught them.

-Since then DK isn't as mean with Mario until the babies are born weeks later. Also, he's a bit terrified of Peach now.

-Magma, who's still a toddler, often asks her uncle-mama when the babies are going to come out of his belly so she can meet them.

-They have twin girls! They're identical when they're babies and kids but when they grow older they have more noticiable differences (like height, same as Mario and Luigi and their mom and uncle)

-They’re Nettarina and Mariella. Sadly I don’t care how silly the names are, I like them and so does Mario aksjdksajd

-Mario has strong genes so their babies look a lot more like him than Peach (who’s glad, because she wanted to have two mini Marios!), although he hoped they’d look more like her.

-Mario is already fat and he gets even fatter with the pregnancy.

-The girls (and Magma too) speak fluent italian and english.

And that’s what I have so far! I know i missed some characters that I could have mentioned like Daisy or Toad and others, but maybe I’ll think of them too for another post c:

I hope you liked them, and if you have any other ideas or headcanons feel free to share them, I’d love to know!

[sergeantnex]

Sam x Hybrid!Reader: Tupping Season (Smut)

. : . : .Reader's POV. : . : .

Gasping lightly as I eased myself further into the water of a lake to clean up, the cool contrast clashing with my heated skin. I whined softly reaching my right hand down to rub against my clit. My body became overly aware of my surroundings, looking and listening for a sign of anyone that could catch me. The excitement of being caught made my hips twitch up with each touch to my clit.

Whining softly I slid my fingers down to my entrance feeling the difference between the water and my own slick from my excitement. Knots formed in my stomach as my orgasm began to build, panting I thrust my fingers a bit faster. Just as I was about to come, the sound of footsteps made me stop and slowly pull my hand away from my aching sex.

Looking back I was greeted my Sam's imposing figure, his form graced with his netherite armor. The black and golden armor framing his tall, muscular build. I lifted my eyes to meet his own and smiled softly. He nodded lightly before crouching near me, it wasn't the first time he has seen my naked considering he was my boyfriend.

"May I join you darling?" Sam questioned his voice lightly muffled by the mask he wore. Nodding I lightly tapped the water before watching him as he stood and began untying his armor to remove it. Once he was bare, he slipped in beside me sighing as his body relaxes.

Thankfully the lake was nearby our house making it easy to come out and swim at night or simply relax after a hard day. Though today was different, I had never bothered Sam during my heats. I was more sensitive and needy, with his work at the prison I didn't want to add one more thing to his plate.

I lightly rubbed my legs making it seem like I was cleaning but in reality my eyes found their way to his flaccid cock. I almost whined when thoughts of him pounding me in the lake flooded my mind. I silently cursed feeling my walls clench around nothing and more slick leak. I lightly let myself sink into the water so it covered me completely before rising back up.

Sam smiled at me lightly pulling me towards him to rest against his chest. The soft colors of the sunset looked dull compared to the green hue of Sam's skin. My chest rubbed against his making me cling to him trying to hide my face in his shoulder. I could hear him chuckle thinking I was getting embarrassed.

My body seemed to move on its own as I moved so his thigh was between my legs, pressed against my aching sex. I whined and brought my hand up to fist his hair, the pressure of his thigh against my clit felt heavenly. Sam groaned and lightly placed his hands against my hips, lightly flexing his thigh.

.:.:.Third POV.:.:.

Sam blushed a darker shade of green when (Y/n) pressed her needing sex against his thigh. He lightly held her hips and flexed his thigh in hopes to get a response from her. But all he got was a gasp and her hands holding him tighter.

"What's got you so worked up darlin'?" Sam questioned softly letting her do as she pleased. (Y/n) couldn't form words as she began to grind herself against his thigh. Her bodies natural slick making it clear to him how aroused she really was. (Y/n)'s (e/c) eyes fluttered shut as she tried to get off on her lover.

It dawned on her that this alone wouldn't be enough to get her to come, she needed more. Moaning she took a hold of Sam's hand and brought it down to her sex. A deep growl was heard from Sam as she pressed his fingers in.

Sam began to thrust his fingers into her warm walls lightly rubbing them with the tips of his fingers. A high pitch moan sounded as her walls began to flutter with her release. Sam couldn't hide how aroused her taking the lead made him, it gave him a break from having to be in control. Not that he minded being in control.

"S-Sam~ please more!" (Y/n) whined rubbing her horn against his shoulder lightly. Her hips pressing down searching for relief. Sam had moved his hand away from her letting her thrust her hips against his thigh again.

"What's got you so needy little lamb?" He asked, a soft hiss filling the air. She whined and buried her face into his neck trying to avoid the question itself. Sam chuckled and shook his head leaning back against the ridge of the lake.

"If you won't tell me, you'll have to take full control over what you want. I won't help you get off properly if you don't tell me what has my little lamb so needy." Sam knew exactly what he was doing. By giving her a choice to submit completely and tell him what was wrong or she would have to get herself off without his help.

Whining (Y/n) shifted to sit in his lap completely lightly grinding his hard cock against her aching sex. Sam pushed her hips away when she moved to ride him. It felt similar to when they would have rough sex, he would be stressed from work and she would let him take it out on her. If it ever became to much for her to handle she would call their safe word, he would stop and ask if he had hurt her of if she wanted to continue.

There was a difference between then and now though and it was very slight. Due to her tupping season being in play, (Y/n) felt more vulnerable to his actions or words. She felt way to embarrassed to say that she was in heat but at the same time the action of him pushing her away brought panic and worry.

"Little lamb?" Sam looked concerned, her (e/c) eyes were glistening like she was about to cry. She opened her mouth to speak but quickly shut it and moved to hold herself. Sam lightly reached out to her softly holding her face in his large hands.

"Sweetheart I'm not sure what's going on but all you need to do is give me our word and I'll take care of you." Sam's voice was low but it held worry. Sam watched her melt into his touch, his hands reaching up to run through (h/l) (h/c) hair that was dripping with water.

"Star.." (Y/n) mumbled softly feeling herself shake. The second the word slipped out of her mouth Sam held her close rubbing her back softly.

"I-It's just today marks my tupping season.." (Y/n) whispered hiding her face again. Sam felt confusion wash over him and before he could stop himself, he leaned back to look at her.

"Tupping season??" Sam felt even further confused when she blushed and looked away.

"It's a term from a ram mating a sheep.. to put it in simpler terms- I um.. I-I'm in heat.." (Y/n) couldn't bring herself to look at him feeling embarrassed and nervous at his reaction. It made sense now as things began to click in Sam's mind.

(Y/n) has been overly clingy and aroused, not including how often to was keeping their home clean. She was nesting without even realizing it and out of all the times she had been through this it never dawned on Sam. Guilt began to eat at him because this whole time he had no idea what was really going on.

"Oh little lamb~" Sam cooed lightly pressing his head against hers. She lightly reached up and held on to him. He took a moment to physically reassure her that it didn't bother him.

.:.:.Sam's POV.:.:.

(Y/n) seemed to relax as I held her a bit more. Smiling softly I reached my hand down, tracing my middle finger against her entrance. She gasped and grabbed my shoulders, her smaller frame shaking softly when I pressed my finger into her warm walls. I gently pulled her body closer to mine letting her legs wrap around my waist.

I lightly rutted my hips against hers, reaching my free hand up to pull her head back by her horn. Her loud moan echoed a bit as she let her head drop back giving me a full view of her neck. A pleased hiss escaped my throat when I leaned in to kiss and bite along her neck.

I pulled my hand away and guide her hips down against mine, my cock twitching against her own sex. Moaning I felt her lower herself on my length, I shivered and pulled her hips down towards mine a bit. I groaned feeling myself bottom out in her, (Y/n) shifted her hips forward a bit.

"Good girl~ Get yourself off, just tell me what you need" I rumbled softly letting her raise and lower her hips at her own pace. The sight was truly beautiful, my little lamb riding my cock. Her (h/l) (h/c) hair bouncing with her movements, her (e/c) eyes hazy with lust, her plump lips parted as she moans, and her little tail flicking happily behind her. I smiled softly, leaning forward to lightly knock my head with hers before kissing her.

"Sam~!" (Y/n) moaned out her walls clinching and fluttering around me. I groaned feeling her come around me, groaning I lifted her a bit to press her towards the edge of the water. Her arms were folded on the top of the ground, her head resting on them. Her back now facing me, smiling I ran my hand down from her shoulder to her hip.

Her small (f/c) tail flicking a bit making me smile, letting my hand slide to her tail. (Y/n) shivered as a lewd baa escaped her mouth as I rubbed her tail, with her distracted I reentered her dripping sex. Groaning I placed my other hand under her stomach lightly pressing against the outline of my cock.

Her body shook and trembled, her nails now digging into the ground. Her body was already sensitive from her previous release. The sight before me made a loud hiss erupt from my throat, huffing softly as I began to thrust faster into her. (Y/n) whined and moaned out to me as I began to pound into her welcoming walls.

I could feel her third release building by the way her walls clinched around me, panting I lightly ran my hand up to grab her horn and pull her up. She keened and melted into my touch as her legs shook.

"I'm close little lamb~" I mumbled, panting in her ear.

"I-Inside~" She whined out making my thrust slow.

"What was that little lamb?" I asked making her look at me by tilting her head to the side. Her (e/c) eyes were lidded as she looked towards me, her breaths heavy as she panted.

"Breed me Sam~ Please fill me~"  (Y/n) begged pressing her hips back against my own. Growling I began to thrust back into her with more speed and a bit more force. Her hand reached back searching for mine as I got closer to my own release. A hiss rose from my throat as I felt her began to come triggering my own release.

I held her hand as I began to whisper praises to her and lightly hold her to me. I slowly pulled out of her and softly eased her back in to my lap. I let her rest against me making quick but thorough work of cleaning her overstimulated sex. I began pampering her neck and shoulders in the kisses, rubbing in to places where I knew she would be sore.

"Sam?" Her voice lightly called her head tilting up at me.

"Yes darlin'?" I asked running my hand through her hair softly, making sure her was clean.

"Thank you for not leaving me." (Y/n) smiled softly, her body clearly exhausted as her eyes were struggling to stay open. Smiling lightly I shifted to put my armor back on, grabbing my shirt that she had worn down her. I lifted her from the water and slid the shirt on her before lifting her body.

"Try to stay awake for me okay? I need to make sure you eat and drink some water before we rest." I told her watching as she nods softly, her hand playing with my armor.

As we arrived home, I gently eased her body into our bed after getting her dressed into a fresh shirt. Smiling I lightly kissed her forehead after taking my armor off and setting it on the stand. I move to grab her some beef stew and and bread, with a glass of water.

"Darling, can you sit up to eat or do you need my help??" I asked setting it on the night stand before moving to help her anyway. I sat her against me as I began to feed her and offer her water. She hadn't eaten the whole bowl but I was happy she ate some before deciding she was to tired to eat. I had finished the bowl and taken it to the sink before moving to lay with her.

"I love you little lamb." I whispered while placing a kiss to her head.

"I love you too Warden~" (Y/n) said with a sleepy giggle making me playfully roll my eyes.

[ajaxeology]

Childe + 12 for the kisses thing? Ahhhh!!!

- Ayu <3

Word Count: 0.4k

Pairing(s): Childe x gn!reader

Genre: fluff

c/w: kissing

note: aaaaaaa I know close to nothing about light waterfalls so everything I know is based off Google (I hope light waterfalls are just as google showed me not something else :">). Thank you for requesting Ayu!! It's a little short, but I hope you like it <3

kisses prompt list

“There’s a step right in front of you, be careful.”

You acknowledge by humming. Childe has his hands around your eyes, and you only see faint glimmers of light through the cracks of his fingers when you peep a little. 

“Hey, you just peeked right?”

“No, I didn’t.”

He huffs and calls you a liar with faux hurt in his voice. 

“I’ve made sure you didn’t trip over any rocks so far and you haven’t even bumped into the other visitors... Do you not trust me?”

You don’t see it, but you know he’s pouting. In response, you scoff to suppress the smile that tugs at the side of your lips. The muffled sound of water running evolves into the crashing of currents. Tiny water droplets continually hit your cheek as you walk forward.

Childe halts, his hands slightly pressing on your cheekbone as you only stop moving after he does. You feel his hands shift away from your eyes. “You can open them now.” 

A towering natural waterfall stood in front of you. Plants grow out of the cracks of the rocks around the waterfall. Light illuminates the water cascading down, and the colour of the light changes endlessly. Red, blue, purple, green and other colours that your mind can no longer list due to your surprise. They all transition and flow into each other with the descent of the water. 

Satisfied, Childe asks like an excited puppy, “Do you like it?” 

You’re ready with a response in mind to tease him about how he sounds like he’s the one who played a part in making the display. But when you turn to face him, the words fail to come out. Childe’s ocean blue eyes, now iridescent, grips your attention tightly in its fists. 

The ever-changing lights from the waterfall illuminate his face and gently overlay on his shining eyes. A grin appears on your face, and you nod.

Not minding the other visitors around (you're at a corner anyway), you take a tiny step and press your lips on his. 

He tenses up for a moment, which you associate with the sudden nature of this, but he kisses back right after. The water droplets continue to hit your cheek, but it becomes small taps as you get lost in the moment. Childe’s fingers run up your hair, and you're about to put an arm on his shoulder. But it is then when the sensible side of you returns. While you’re sure no one’s looking, you’re overly conscious about the other people walking around you. Ears and cheeks warm, you pull away abruptly.

Childe pouts and you feel a tinge of guilt. You’re the one who started it and you never, never, give him more than a peck in public.

“Okay Childe, listen. Let’s have a deal. We take photos here, then we’ll continue elsewhere, yes?”

He brightens up. “It’s a deal.” 

[mercurygguk]

what a man gotta do? | kth

genre; established relationship au, fluff

pairing; kim taehyung x female reader

summary; what a man gotta do when his girlfriend is insanely adorable when she’s drunk and doesn’t take no for an answer?

word count; 2,488

warnings; mentions of alcohol, a tiny bit of swearing, just soft tae and oc being a cute ass couple that i really adore

a/n; saw a text quote on tumblr, my brain popped an idea. this is it. also, i know nothing about gaming, so if anything i’ve written doesn’t make sense, just ignore it lol. please love it a lot and enjoy!! ps. please tell me what you think, thanks x

There is something so oddly pleasing about having the entire apartment to oneself on a Friday evening. Taehyung has been looking forward to this evening for a week and it is finally here. An entire evening for himself with his gaming console, his friends in his headphones and a big bowl of popcorn beside him. It’s quiet in the apartment as he sets up his gaming spot, fluffing the pillows and setting them up nicely on the couch so he can sit comfortably for the next many hours of nonstop gaming with his bestest friends.

The reason for his night alone is because his girlfriend’s (you) best friend just got promoted to a higher rank in the law firm she works at. She then went on to invite all her friends out for drinks which, of course, included you. Taehyung had fought to keep in his excitement when you had told him of your plans a week ago. You had eyed him down then, noticing the small exciting smile forming on his lips as he listened to your words carefully as if he actually cared. He was just overly excited to finally be able to have a gaming night without interruptions. And it’s not that he wants to sound ungrateful or like he enjoyed that you weren’t at home. He loved spending his Friday nights cuddled up with you, hell, that was his favorite Friday nights. But he’s only a boy, really. And a boy has needs. Gaming needs.

So he walks to the kitchen with a pep in his step as the microwave finishes with a loud ping! He pours the popcorn into a bowl and heads back to the couch where his gaming spot has been set up to perfection, everything in place and ready for him to have a relaxing night of games. He sits back in the mountain of pillows, sighing in content as he places the popcorn beside him before grabbing his headset. He sets it atop of his head, checking the sound and mic. Seconds later there’s an incoming call from his group of friends. 

He picks up with a grin on his face. “Hey guys!”

Seokjin gasps from the other end. “What the hell? Got a night off from the wife?”

Taehyung scoffs and rolls his eyes playfully, a small smile on his lips. “She’s out for drinks,” he explains, “best friend got promoted.”

“Em got promoted?” Jimin then asks, just now hearing about the news of his long-time crush.

A smirk appears on Taehyung’s face. “Yeah, like a week ago. She didn’t tell you?”

Jimin falls silent at his question. Taehyung wants to tell his best friend to get out of his misery and just ask the girl out. He’s a hundred percent sure she’d say yes within a heartbeat. In fact, when Em is here visiting you and Taehyung, she talks about Jimin more often than she’d ever admit.

“Just ask her out already!” Seokjin groans annoyed, causing Jimin to tell him to ‘fuck off’. Taehyung grins, having missed gaming and talking with his friends like this. He saw them a few days ago in person which was nice too, but gaming with them is just so different and fun. It’s been a long time since he has had the opportunity to game for an entire night with Seokjin and Jimin.

“Well,” Taehyung captures the attention of his two best friends, “shall we get started?”

And that’s how the next three hours pass. There’s bickering, arguing because Seokjin didn’t manage to cover for Taehyung which caused Taehyung to get killed. “Come on, hyung! You were supposed to cover for me!”

Seokjin sighs deeply on the other end, calming his temper. “You think I’m a mind reader? How was I supposed to know you’d-”

Taehyung’s phone starts vibrating in his pocket. He pulls the phone from his pocket to look at the caller-id. Your photo flashes across his screen, the wide smile on your face on a snowy day in December. A photo Taehyung snapped one day before Christmas, a day you had dragged him outside and into the snow. The first snow in Seoul in years and you had been so happy that you couldn’t stop smiling, so Taehyung saw it fit to snap a photo of you with his vintage camera which he had brought along.

“Hyung, one second,” he cuts off Seokjin’s rambling, removing his headset to answer your call.

“Hey babe,” Taehyung greets who he thinks is you. He stills, confused as Em greets him back in a rather serious, tired-sounding tone. “Oh, hey Em, did something happen?”

Em sighs deeply. “____ is drunk off her ass. Can you come get her?”

Drunk of her ass? You haven’t been drunk off your ass in months, which is why you being drunk so drunk right now doesn’t come as a shock to him. It’s been a while since you went out drinking like you’ve done tonight, so your body has gotten used to not fighting alcohol. Taehyung runs a hand through his dark black hair, removing it from his eyes.

“Yeah, sure, I’ll come by. Where you at?”

With the information from Em, he hangs up and grabs his headset to put it back on. “Hey, guys, I gotta go.”

Jimin sounds like an unsatisfied child as he whines. Taehyung can imagine the pout. “What? Why?”

“Em just called,” he tells his best friend, “____ is drunk as hell. I have to go get her.”

Jimin mutters an ‘oh’ and so does Seokjin. They tell each other goodbye before Taehyung is shutting off his gaming console and heading for the front door. He grabs a coat from the closet in the hallway, throwing it over the white t-shirt and the green unbuttoned flannel he’s wearing. He jumps into a pair of boots and grabs his keys before heading out of the apartment. 

“Shit,” he swears under his breath as he steps outside, into the cold air of January. He takes long strides towards his car, getting in and turning the key in the ignition. The heat is immediately turned on before he pulls out of the parking lot, heading in the direction of the bar Em told him you’re at. “One night,” he mumbles lowly to himself as he slowly drives around the parking lot behind the bar to find an empty spot, “one freaking night.”

The bar is filled with people, some drunk and some just barely tipsy. The aura in there is happy, void of any worries these people might have on regular days. Taehyung skims the darkness of the bar, trying his best to spot you in the crowd. Soon enough his eyes zoom in on Em who’s waving at him. He glances to her right side, spotting you sitting there with your head resting on Em’s shoulder. You look like you’re passed out and Taehyung immediately finds himself worrying a bit more than he originally had. You never pass out, you just always end up being a slur who laughs a bit too much at anything you find funny in the moment.

“Hey,” Em greets Taehyung. He nods at her in a greeting as he stops in front of them, immediately squatting down to be at your level. He reaches out, brushing your hair out of your face. You look at him, eyes blank and unfocused as you take him in. Thank god, you’re not passed out, just closing your eyes for a few seconds for a short nap.

“Hi baby,” Taehyung coos, thumb brushing across your cheek. You smile sheepishly, a very soft and drunken smile. Your boyfriend has to stifle a laugh as you almost fall over as you sit up. He catches your shoulder with his warm palm, steadying you as he tries to catch your eyes with his own. “Wanna go home?”

You nod, not muttering a simple word other than a low hum as he helps you to your feet. You’re leaning against his chest, cuddling into the warmth of him as he talks to Em for a moment.

“Thanks for calling,” he tells her. 

Em nods with a grin and pats your shoulder as if to say goodbye. “Get her to bed,” she smirks, “she’ll have one hell of a hangover tomorrow.”

Taehyung chuckles and nods in agreement. He bids Em and your other friends goodbye before leaving the bar with you cuddled up against his chest. You’re stumbling alongside him, finding it rather difficult to stand on your own two feet.

“Baby,” Taehyung softly calls, “could you use your legs for a second? You’re way heavier when you’re not cooperating, you know?”

You mumble in response, nuzzling your body even closer to him. “I wuv y-you,” you hum, smiling with your eyes closed as you hug him tightly. The man holding you up can’t help but laugh at you, his heart swelling twice it’s size as you drunkenly confess how you feel for him. Even though he already knew that. Good thing it’s love confessions and not some other kind of confession that slips from your drunk mind.

Taehyung struggles to get you into the passenger seat but he manages. He helps you take a sip of the water bottle Em had gotten for you at the bar. Your head falls back against the headrest of the seat, eyes still closed and lips moving on in another round of mumbles and humming. Taehyung buckles you up before moving to his own seat behind the wheel. He glances at you as he ignites the car. You’re really a sight to see right now. Completely unfazed as you sit in a weird position in the passenger seat, your head lulling from side to side because you have absolutely no control over it at the moment.

“God, you’re drunk,” Taehyung sighs deeply, “let’s get you home.”

If Taehyung thought getting you in the passenger seat was hard, then he had another thing coming. Getting you out of the passenger, however, is a completely different ordeal and then getting you inside the apartment building and into the elevator was probably more exercise than Taehyung has ever done in one day. Ugh, he really hates going to the gym.

The front door is soon unlocked and you’re back home in the warmth of your shared apartment. After the elevator ride up, it’s almost as if you’ve sobered up again. You’re walking better, still holding onto Taehyung, but walking. You’re blabbering now, talking about how you and Em had tested who could drink the most shots in 30 seconds and who could chug a beer down the fastest. Taehyung listens with a small smile, shaking his head in amusement because this is so very much unlike you. But he’s happy you had fun with your friends.

“Oh, you should’ve seen the way I chugged down those shots,” you laugh, plopping down onto the couch as Taehyung kneels down to take off your shoes. “Em could not catch me at all!”

“I’m sure you were ace, baby,” Taehyung hums, grinning now because you’re way too cute when you’re drunk. He’s not even mad that you spoiled his gaming night because you’re too drunk to get home by yourself. This is a sight he would’ve hated to miss out on.

“My head hurts though,” you mumble, frowning. Taehyung matches your frown as he glances up at you while unclasping your heels from your feet.

Once your shoes are off, he gets back up. He cups your cheek, brushing a stray eyelash off it with the pad of his thumb. “Just gonna get a makeup wipe and some pills for your headache, okay? I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

You nod, smiling up at him. He pecks your forehead quickly before heading for the bathroom. Taehyung glances back at you to see you sitting there silently, wiggling your bare feet and hugging a pillow to your chest. He chuckles as he enters the bathroom to retrieve painkillers and a makeup wipe to clean your face. A few minutes after rummaging through the cabinets and the drawers, he exits the bathroom and heads back to you. He stops in his tracks when he notices you’re gone from your spot. He skims the living room, not finding you anywhere. What he does find though is something he hasn’t seen since he was like eight years old. Right there by the dining table behind the couch, you’re currently putting up a blanket fort, a wide grin on your face.

“Baby,” Taehyung catches your attention right away, “whatcha’ doing?”

You smile, looking back at the project you’ve started. “What does it look like I’m doing? It’s a blanket fort!”

Taehyung steps closer, nodding. “I can see that.”

It doesn’t take long for you to finish setting it up before you’re grabbing pillows from the couch, throwing them inside the blanket fort. You’re way too good at this. Something tells Taehyung that you’ve made a lot of these as a child. You emerge from the fort to motion at him, beckoning him to join you. “Come on,” you insist.

Your boyfriend looks at you as if you’ve lost your mind, when really, you’re just tipsy as hell. “____, shouldn’t we just go to bed? I mean, this is-”

“Just get in the fucking blanket fort.” 

Taehyung’s eyes widen as you stare back at him with hard eyes. “Alright,” he puts his hands up in surrender, painkillers in one and a makeup wipe in the other, “I’m coming, I’m coming.”

The hard stare turns into a wide, content smile and Taehyung seriously thinks he’ll get a whiplash from how fast you can switch between facial expressions. You’re already inside the blanket fort when Taehyung stands in front of the opening to it. He squats down, looking inside. It did look insanely inviting and cozy in there. You pat the spot next to you on the blanket, still smiling. Taehyung sighs as he knows you won’t give up until he’s inside your blanket fort. You really don’t take no for an answer.

“You’re lucky you’re adorable,” Taehyung shakes his head before crawling inside the fort, plopping down beside you. You lay on your side facing him with a grin. “I haven’t been in a blanket fort since I was eight.”

You laugh, reaching for his hand, intertwining your fingers. “Then we must make blanket forts more often.”

[bellarkeselection]

Ice Wife - part 1

Request from @deepprincesstraveler Jaime Lannister x Stark Reader that has ice powers like Elsa from Frozen. The two have an arranged marriage

Kings landing is no place for someone like me. Someone with my type of powers. Ice belongs in the North. Back at Winterfell, my home. Yet being Y/n Stark, the oldest daughter of Eddard and Catelyn Stark means you don't get what you want. Months have passed since my father's beheading with the murder of my brother Robb and mother. Slowly I pick up a dinner knife I stole from the kitchen. My hands slowly turns it into an icy weapon. I quietly shrieked dropping it to the floor of my chambers. Suddenly a knock comes from my locked door. "Lady Y/n?" The voice of Tyrion Lannister came back. I stumbled to hide the frozen knife under my bed and putting my grey gloves back on before opening the door. "Yes my lord?"

He slowly entered my chambers gestering between us with his left hand. "Y/n I thought we'd come to an agreement to call me Tyrion. I've come to escort you to have lunch with my brother and I...so that your first meeting isn't at the altar." I simply nod holding my hands together in front of me. No one can explain why I have ice powers. Luckily my father found these gloves that help block my powers. Nonetheless I've been given werid looks for wearing gloves in a place so warm, Tyrion and I became fast friends for people judging us while we wait for the return of his brother. My betrothed Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer.

Tyrion leads me into his chambers where a table with three plates of food are set out. Three glasses of wine included. Tyrion sits at one end of the table and I sit in between. Someone entered the room and I instantly knew who it was, short blonde hair and green eyes of Jaime. He sees me giving me a weak smile hiding his right arm behind his back sitting down at the other end of the table to join us. "Finally we're all here. Y/n this is my brother Jaime. Jaime, this is Y/n. I thought this would be the best option until our father arrives tomorrow from Casterly Rock. He's sent word that he wants to make this to be a quick wedding considering our king is to be married a few days after that." I slowly rest my hands together on the table eyeing Jaime, who is in fact as handsome as all the young maidens say. Even though he's 32 and I'm 16 years old. He's still doing pretty well - except for losing his right hand.

"A toast to the proud Lannister children. The dwarf, the crippled and the mother of madness." Tyrion raises his glass. Jaime reaches for his cup but knocked mine over with his left arm. The wine spills on one of my gloves for the servant to try and help. "My lady I can get-" But I yank my right hand back when he reaches for it. "No, it's alright." Jaime gives him a look and he leaves. "I'm sorry Lady Y/n." He breathes out not making eye contact with me. I stare into his eyes seeing regret in them, then look to the golden right hand. "I can't fight anymore..." I lean up on the table making some of my hair fall over my shoulders. "That's not true, Jaime." Tyrion aims his index finger my direction stating. "She's right. Train then, learn to fight with your other hand. And it just so happens I know a discreet swordsman."

Hours later Jaime and I head down to where he's to meet his brothers swordsman. "Lady Y/n why do you think I can learn to fight with my other hand?" He finally spoke as we wait for the swordsman as my eyes watch the waves of the water. "My father always told us we could do anything we wanted. My youngest sister Arya wanted to be a knight, my younger sister Sansa wanted to marry a prince and then there's me..." Jaime rests his left arm on a rock staring my way. "And what is it you want, lady Y/n?" To not hide my powers. "I'm not sure...I've never been overly excited about being married off. I don't imagine anyone has ever been." He sighs looking to his golden hand weakly. "It doesn't help I'm a crippled now-" I cut him off hearing footsteps approaching. "Don't doubt yourself Lannister. You're brother doesn't, just call me Y/n by the way." He lifts his head weakly smiling. "Only if you call me Jaime and not Kingslayer."

"A lady shouldn't be out here. I'd hate to have her watch me knock you on your ass." The swordsman finally arrived. "Oh don't fear. I'm hear to simply watch, Ser..." I trailed off waiting for his name. He sticks out his hand shacking mine. "Bronn, my lady..." I nod introducing myself before he pulls out sparring swords. "Y/n." Jaime walked to pick it up. "I haven't used a sparring sword since I was nine." But Bronn knocked the sword from his hand. "Bold warrior you are attacking a man when his guard's down." Jaime spoke picking up the sword. Bronn rolls his eyes starting the fight. "Best time to attack a man."

The pair fight for a little while and I hesitantly remove the glove from my right hand. Placing it on the rock behind my back trying to control my breathing. The hard rock slowly turns into ice like the knife this morning. Unlike Jaime I can't simply train to not use my powers. "Y/n!" Jaime's voice pulled me back to reality. Sloppily I put my glove back on hoping the ice on the rock will melt in the hot sun quickly. Turning around in my dress I see he's carrying his sword waiting for me. "I'll escort you to your chambers if you'd like." His green eyes lock with my grey ones.

"Sure. I wouldn't mind your company." He holds out his right arm for me and I loop my arm through his. "I'm not pleased with our arrangement either. But I'll do my best to be a good husband for you." He says once we reach my chamber door. Brushing some hair behind my ear I give a soft smile. "And I will try to be a good and honest wife to you, Jaime Lannister." Well a good wife at the least. No one else can know about my powers. The only person I can trust is Sansa.

Part 2 on my masterlist.