#aristocrats are humans too dammit

[wordycheeseblob]

Prompt idea

Emma gets an aristocratic friend that does not have any ulterior motives. That does NOT try to get to another character through her. That is NOT ACTIVELY TRYING TO KILL HER.

[mistresstaru]

Virulent Waters, Chapter 1

I’m jumping into MerMay with Merman!Silco, guys. And, my blog is no longer banned, hooray! Anyway, first chapter of this.

Title: Virulent Waters

Rating: Mature for now, will go up, first chapter SFW

Pairing: Silco/Reader, Merman!Silco and reader is a biologist. First-person POV reader

Summary: Reader meets a handsome man at a party, who also happens to be a merman and he’s fighting for his home with all his might. Will you help him? Merman AU

Virulent Waters

 :::

 I always hated these kinds of things. Boring galas with boring rich people talking about their boring lives and ‘problems’. No one ever talks about truly important things, like aiding the poor, healing the sick, the polluted river. No one is interested in my work, either. I know what people say about me behind my back, that I’m some sort of freak whose only friends are animals. Well, the only reason that’s mildly true is that humans lie to you, betray you, and do bad things to each other and their environment. But I do have friends, dammit. I know how to have a good time, it’s just… my work is more important.

 I’ve had just about enough of this place and finished my third glass of champagne, when I turned around and saw him. Him. He was so very handsome, slicked back hair with a touch of silver in the dark brown, a lovely prominent nose and a small but carved jawline, adorable pouty lips adorned with a few scars and, oh, what a beautiful eye color, was it green? Blue? I couldn’t tell from here. An eyepatch covered the other eye. What a shame, that he didn’t have a pair. He was well-dressed, like everyone else here, but something about him didn’t quite… fit. There was an air about him, a mystique that I couldn’t place, almost like he didn’t belong in this world. Beyond that, though, he was standing alone by the door, looking around observantly but disgustedly like he didn’t want to be here either, smoking a very expensive cigar and checking his pocket watch from time to time.

 And then his eye catches mine. Shit, I’d been staring too long, but… he doesn’t seem to mind. He looked me up and down, just like I did with him, and seemed to come to a similar conclusion. Before I knew it, I was walking toward him, needing to know him. Hopefully, I didn’t look too obvious. “Haven’t seen you before.” Great, obvious pick-up line. “Are you tired of making small talk with everybody, too?”

 “I haven’t even started.” He says, smoke dancing around his lips before blowing it out of his mouth. “I don’t think I’d be very welcome.”

 “Why not? Are you new in town?”

 “Hardly.” His smirks. “They wouldn’t share my views on things.”

 “I can understand that.” I tell him.

 “You think differently than your fellow aristocrats?” He huffs, not believing me.

 “I’m not an aristocrat.” I say, surprised he would think so. Does this multi-used cheap dress look aristocratic to him? “I was invited by my boss.”

 “What is it you and your boss do?”

 “We’re scientists.” I reply. “I’m more focused on zoology, animals.”

 “Interesting.” He purrs, and I finally have his attention. “What kind of animals? Land, sea?”

 “All.” I smile. “Prehistoric ones, too.”

 “And you study them?” He asks, raising an eyebrow. “Experiment on them?”

 “We don’t experiment on them.” I shake my head. “We study them in their natural environments and in the lab, but we don’t hurt them. If they’re injured or sick, we heal them. And if we happen to find deceased animals in the wild, then we perform autopsies and such. But we don’t kill for research.” I pause. “However, what I’d really like for us to do is take a stand against animal and environment abuse, instead of just studying it.”

 “You would?” I seem to have interested him more. Usually by now, people tap out of my conversation. “Why?”

 “Because… animals deserve to live on this planet more than we do.” I say truthfully. “You see, humans just take and give nothing back to the world that gives them life. Animals and plants know how much to take and how much to give. They are born with the instinct. You’d think humans would know this with all the brains we have, but we don’t, we have no self-control. Even with little things; for example, I ate too much dessert from the buffet and had three glasses of champagne. I didn’t need to do that, but I did, and I will regret it later.”

 “Heh, indulgent.” He takes another drag. “But at least you acknowledge it.”

 “There are so few who do. I want to make a change.”

 “Hmm… something tells me you just might.” He smiles at me, triangular gapped teeth showing a little behind his lips. Wow. “You say animals deserve more than humans…” He turns away, eyes darkening. “But what about creatures that are half-human?”

 “Half-human? Oh, do you mean…?”

 “Yes.” He leans down. “The mer-people.” Ah, yes, the war. The war between Piltover and the mer-people that lived below the river, the very toxic, dirty river. The people didn’t think it worth talking about. They think it is frivolous, a stupid little task to deal with. After all, they are ‘just fish’ and there’s nothing they can do against the humans; they’re in the water and we’re on the land. It’s been a stalemate for years, now.

 “They have every right to be angry. Their river is polluted.” I say quietly. “And I think they deserve a clean home, even if I don’t know much about them.”

 “…” For some reason, he’s stunned by what I just said. “You’re one in a million, my dear.” I hope I’m not blushing at that.

 “I’ve never even seen a mer-person. Have you?”

 “Yes.” He smokes again. “I believe I saw one by the fourth bridge at dusk. Of course, my eye might have been playing tricks on me.”

 “Lucky you. I heard they haven’t surfaced in a while.” I say. “To tell you the truth, I’ve always wanted to meet one.”

 “So you can study them?”

 “Well, that would be part of it…” I reply, and he huffs again, blue – no, it’s aquamarine – eye sparkling with apparent mischief. “Gods, I’ve been rambling about myself this whole time. Please, tell me about you. What do you do for a living?”

 “Me?” He throws the cigar on the ground, stomping it out. “Well, let’s just say… I’m a rebel.”

 “What?”

 BOOM

 There was a sudden explosion somewhere in the building, shaking its foundation and the two of us along with it. He grabs me as we fall to the ground, cushioning me. There’s another explosion, and I see fire and smoke this time. “Fuck!” I scream, forgetting about any manners as I grip him, scared.

 “Come, let’s get out of here!” He pulls me up, taking my arm and we run. Luckily, we’re right by the door so we’re one of the first ones outside, running a block away before hearing yet another explosion. It was the roof of the great hall, and it was about to cave in.

 “What the hell is going on?” I yell.

 “Are you alright?” The man isn’t worried about that. He’s holding my arms, checking me for injuries.

 “Y-Yes, are you?” I ask him, eyes going back and forth between him and the hall.

 “I’m fine, but I have to go.” He says, propping me up against a wall before letting go, about to leave.

 “Where are you going?” I ask, thinking he was going to run back inside, but he’s facing the opposite direction.

 “My job.” He smirks. “I hope to see you again.” He starts to run.

 “Wait!” I reach out to him and he stops, turning to look at me. I have so much to ask, but I can only think of one thing: “What’s your name?”

 “… Silco.” He says, and I tell him mine before he nods and runs away into the street, into the crowd.

 “Silco.” I say to myself, nearly forgetting about the collapsing building behind me. Another explosion and I swear again, covering my ears. Being this far away is still not enough to avoid the smoke that billows out from the site. I shield my face and run back to my apartment, hoping that whatever caused that explosion wouldn’t follow me to my district.

 :::

 I couldn’t sleep last night. Too busy thinking about what happened, that handsome man… and also being sick from the desserts, champagne and all the stress. But I couldn’t stay home, let alone try to sleep in. I have animals at work that I need to take care of, that I need to nurse back to health so hopefully we can send them back home one day. I get to work and I greet them all: two dunpors from Stonewall, krugs from Valoran, a beautiful erbok from Targon, three baby raptors that lost their mother, and of course, a few lovable poros. My favorite animal is an iridescent Ixtali red cobra, who was abused by so-called snake charmers. They removed his venom glands, so he can no longer live in the wild. I’ve taken the liberty of naming him Sweetie.

 It was almost time for my lunch break when a bunch of enforcers and the sheriff burst into the lab, while my boss shows them to a room, putting something down on the table. My boss, the genius inventor Heimerdinger the yordle, is scurrying back and forth worriedly. “What’s going on?” I have to go and ask him.

 “Oh, good, it’s you. Just the biologist I need.” He says. “The enforcers were investigating the destruction of the Councilor’s Hall, and have come across something very peculiar. Apparently, it was an attack. A series of bombs!”

 “I see but… what do bombs have to do with a biology lab?” I ask.

 “Because the bombs’ outer casings were made of seashells.” The sheriff, Marcus, comes up to us. “We have reason to believe more components are biological.”

 “Shells?” I say incredulously.

 “Yes. It looks like the mer-folk have done this.” Marcus says.

 “But how?!” Heimerdinger asks. “There’s no possible way. How could they have gotten so far north, by walking with their hands?”

 “I don’t know.” Says the sheriff. “But who else would use shells as a bomb?” I look over at the table. The bomb, now just a bunch of pieces, lay there, and looking closely I could see the shell pieces. I pick one up, observing the swirls and the stripes that define it as a nautilus shell, a Pilt nautilus to be exact. Yes, this had to have been made by the mer-people that live there, the message was clear. But again, how? Maybe they have humanoids working for them? “Tell me, miss…” Marcus breaks my concentration. “You were there last night, right? Did you see anything out of the ordinary? Anybody acting strangely?”

 “…” I only have to think for a millisecond. That man… he was checking his watch, standing by the door, and asks me about mer-people, and then runs away from the scene of the crime after calling himself a rebel.

 “Well?” He presses, leaning in closer.

 “N-No.” I say, lying right to the sheriff’s face. Why am I lying? Why am I protecting him? I barely know him; I only know his name… but I won’t say it. “I was kind of wasted last night.” I say jokingly, acting a fool so he wouldn’t be suspicious.

 “Hmph… fine. If you remember anything, come to the station.” Marcus nods to the two of us before leaving with his enforcers.

 “Holy sprockets…” Heimerdinger puts his big head in his tiny hand. “This is all a big fiasco. If it truly was the mer-people, well… I’d hate to take drastic measures.”

 “Yeah… me too.” I say, once again thinking about the man, trying to remember everything he said to me last night. He didn’t really give me much except his name, although he could have been lying. I’m remembering a specific thing he said about mer-people:

 “I believe I saw one by the fourth bridge at dusk. Of course, my eye might have been playing tricks on me.”

 Does that mean, if I go to the fourth bridge at dusk, I’ll see a mer-person, or maybe him? There’s only one way to find out, which means it might be another sleepless night for me.

 :::

 Well, here I am. I came all the way to the fourth bridge, the Sun’s going down, and I’m cold from the wind, and there’s a whole bunch of nothing. Not a lot of people commute around here. Once in a while, there might be a jogger, or lovers, or drunks… or muggers, or murderers… shit, I shouldn’t have come here. I look down at my feet, black sand under my shoes, and then out to the River Pilt, a horrifically unclean body of water that no one is allowed to swim, fish or boat in. It really is a shame. I take some of the blame for myself; I focus on other lands’ animals instead of thinking of my own first. But the rest of the blame is on stupid, money-grabbing politicians who care more about the Hexgates being up-and-running than the obsolete way of transportation. Feeling tired, cold and pissed at many things, I scoff and turn to go home.

 “You’re a smart woman.” I hear a lovely, familiar voice behind me. “You decrypted my clues.” I slowly turn around, seeing the head of the man I met last night rise out of the water, but he looked different. The eyepatch was gone and I suppose the makeup he was wearing because I see a terribly scarred upper half of his face as well as a blackened eye with a reddish-orange… iris, I guess? And was that webbing on his ears and… gills on his neck?

 “No way.” I say out loud. Sure, I figured out his strange way of telling me to meet him here, but I didn’t once think that he’d be a merman. He comes out of the water more, lithe torso emerging, more webbing on his arms and between sharp fingers. His tail emerges from the side of him and oh… it’s beautiful. Long, black on the dorsal half and red on the ventral half, and a gorgeous run of shining, bioluminescent dots in between. The fin is black and red too, and fringed, sticking up out of the water as if to say hello. He knows I’m gawking and he snickers at me, that gap-tooth grin making me remember why I’m here. “It was you.” I whisper, just in case someone else was around. “You did it. You blew up the hall!”

 “That I did.” He says proudly. “With a few of my associates.”

 “You killed people!”

 “I did what I had to for our cause.”

 “You almost killed me!”

 “But I didn’t, I ended up saving you instead.”

 “And why, so you can blackmail me into working for you or something?” I’m pacing on the beach.

 “Whether or not you decide to help us is up to you.”

 “And what if I don’t?” I ask, stopping. “Then will you kill me?”

 “No.” He shakes his head. “I said before, you’re one in a million. You’re a good person.”

 “Please…” I shrug angrily. “I’m just a normal person. A normal person who’s now caught in the middle of this war.”

 “Even though I only just met you…” He swims closer, his beautiful tail pushing him from behind. “I can tell that you’re not normal.”

 “Stop.” I say. “Do you know what happened today? The freaking sheriff came to my lab, giving us your shell-bomb to investigate. And, he was questioning me, asking me if I saw anything suspicious.”

 “And? What did you tell him?”

 “Absolutely nothing!” I’m full-blown yelling now, not caring if anybody hears. “I couldn’t tell him about you!”

 “Why?”

 “I. Don’t. Know.” I lean forward. “Maybe you tricked me with whatever magic it is you use to turn your tail into legs!”

 “Ha, I did no such thing.”

 “Then how did you do it? How were you there at the hall, standing on two legs, and then running with two legs?”

 “That… I won’t share with you just yet.” He smirks. “But I know why you didn’t tell on me.”

 “Tell me, then.” I cross my arms in front of my chest. “I’m all ears.”

 “Because you’re not normal.” He answers. “An average person would have just told of what they saw, instinctively obeying the law and forgetting about the whole thing. However, you are cleverer than that. You needed to see the entire picture for yourself, and be a part of it, because, well… you said it yourself: you want to make a change.”

 “…” I’m speechless. This merman can figure all that out about me? Things I didn’t even know myself? “But what kind of change do you want to make?”

 “I want my home to be clean, and my people to be healthy. That’s all.” He grimaces. “My people are dying. The toxins mutate our bodies and minds. This…” He gestures to his blackened eye and scar. “Is a result of a simple scratch turned into a hideous scar. But I have it easy. My lieutenant’s left arm had to be removed and a mechanical one takes its place. My daughter’s mind is plagued with hallucinations and voices.”

 “Your daughter?” I repeat.

 “In the past, we have tried for a peaceful solution.” He says. “Many years ago, my… my brother in arms and our leader tried talking with the Council. His name was Vander.”

 “That name is familiar…” I say.

 “Piltover promised us that they would help, but years go by and they do nothing, except corrupt Vander. The man always held the world on his shoulders and his heart on his sleeve, feeling responsible for too many people. Piltover made excuses and he bought them. They said it was ‘too expensive’ to clean the river. We tried to fight, but we lost, two of our adopted children killed and one of them, my daughter’s biological sister, was captured, but she is most likely dead, as well.”

 “Whoa, hold on…” That was a lot to process, but the main thing that stood out to me was “‘Our?’”

 “…” He pursed his lips, realizing his slip-up.

 “Vander was your… husband?”

 “He was.” He sighs. “But he became pathetic, weak… our loss completely broke him. The Council had been telling us for years to just move to a different location, uplift our entire civilization and leave.”

 “That wouldn’t change anything.” I say. “The water would still be polluted, and the sea life would still be ill and too toxic to eat.”

 “Once again, you prove your abnormality.” He smirks. “I told Vander exactly that, but with the loss of his favorite daughter he was broken. He wanted all of us to pack our things and leave, but I argued with him and… it got heated. He tried to kill me, so…”

 “You killed him instead.” I put my hands to my mouth in shock.

 “He is the reason for this ugly scar. All I have left is my daughter, whose real parents died of a disease caused by the toxins in our river. She has lost so much, and now her mind…” He bites his tongue, turning away from me. “We have been planning for years, studying human ways, human engineering. We are either going to win or die trying. And unfortunately for you, you are now caught in the middle of it.”

 “…” I’m speechless again. When I asked him to tell me about himself, I didn’t think he’d go this far. This man has been through so much, his children dying, his daughter being captured and missing or dead, his other daughter being mentally ill,  his husband trying to kill him, scarring him, and his home being polluted by those that live above him… I feel a tear run down my cheek, feeling so empathetic for him and his people. I can see the desperation in his eyes, and the fire of determination. He is willing to do anything to save his home. I squat down, being more eye-level with him. “You know, when people tell stories of war, they only say who won and who lost, but they don’t say just how much they have lost.” A pause. He swims closer still. “I… want to help you, but I’m not a soldier. I don’t know how to fight, or anything about espionage…”

 “Actually…” He raises his good eyebrow. “You’re a pretty good spy, and detective. After all, you were able to find me, and you lied to the sheriff. You can keep lying, ask questions, or just listen to anything any of your aristocrat friends say and report it to me. We already have a plan for taking action to clean our own home, but there is one thing that I haven’t been able to find any information about.”

 “What?”

 “My missing daughter.” Silco sighs. “Her name is Violet, Vi for short. I believed since you are a biologist and work in the academy lab, you might have come across her.”

 “I haven’t. I’ve never seen a mer-person until you.” I shake my head. “They must have her locked away somewhere.”

 “Hopefully.” He looks down at the water, at his reflection. “So, will you help us?”

 “I will.” I reach out to him. “I’ll try my hardest.”

 “Thank you.” He takes my hand with his webbed one, shaking it, water dripping from our connection. “Ah, we forgot to discuss how I am to repay you.”

 “Repay? What do you mean? I’m repaying you.”

 “For helping you out the front door we were standing beside? Please. I’m sure you would have gotten out if I wasn’t there.” He smirks. “I believe you mentioned something about studying a mer-person, given the chance?”

 “I… did… I did say that…” I remember. “You’re not offended?”

 “No. I can understand the curiosity.” His eyes graze over my body. “I’m curious about you, as well.” My face flushes and I stand awkwardly, fixing my clothes even though they didn’t need fixing.

 “O-Okay, um… so where and when should we do this? Here?”

 “No, not here. Too out in the open.” He replies. “There is a building that use to be a cannery not far from here. Under it, on its seaside, there is a small shore and a cave. We will meet there once a week. Is this night good for you?”

 “Yes, yes it is.”

 “Then it’s settled.” He smiles. “I look forward to doing business with you.”

 “Business…” Right, that’s all it is. This isn’t a date with a fish-man. I need to pull myself together. Suddenly, I hear voices approaching. Drunken voices, but still, it could be dangerous. “Go, go!” I gesture for him to leave.

 “Right, I’ll see you next week.” He nods before submerging into the virulent waters, his lovely bioluminescence disappearing underneath. The drunkards come down off the boardwalk and start singing badly, asking for me to join in. I politely decline, offering one last glance at the water before turning for home. Thanks to a handsome merman, I’m now part of this war, and I’m terrified yet excited at the same time.

[rpmemesbyarat]

RP meme from Werewolf: The Apocalypse "Kinfolk: Unsung Heroes" Introduction & Ch.1

"I have normal human fears and frailties, despite my faith."

"I’m terrified I won’t be there when they need me, that I won’t be able to give fully of myself to save them when the time comes. And the price of my failure, for them, would be too high."

"It was like nothing else mattered, nothing else could fill my eyes like the sight of him."

"Now, of course, I realize I was in shock at the time clammy skin, disorientation, that sort of thing."

"That night misted over my senses; even now, it seems more like a vivid dream than anything else."

"I had to watch. I couldn’t turn away."

"That night, I saw I had to protect him. He needed me, and it’s just as simple as that."

"Let’s just say what I know has come in handy."

"The best folks give the most of whatever they can."

"Think about it — would you like to go through childbirth every nine months from age 14 to 50?"

"We’re human beings, dammit!"

"I’ll always do anything I can to help, even if I’m royally pissed; I don’t expect thanks or money, either. But it would be nice to get some respect."

"I'm not alone in saying that I hate being patronized."

"Give an inch, they’ll take a mile" is what some of them think about us."

"The rhetoric a lot of them use sounds like the same crap bigots give when trying to “justify” why women and minorities shouldn’t have equal rights."

"Just once, I’d like to feel like an equal, a partner in all this."

"Ever think about how hard things would be without us?"

"I see by your scowl that doesn’t satisfy you."

"Think of it as normal family responsibilities, magnified a thousand times."

"It’s practically medieval!"

"I mean, it looks like such fun to turn into a wolf."

"There are connections like you wouldn’t believe. Completely outside the law, these people can get dirt on the opposition, perform b&e without leaving a trace and provide muscle no other boss can beat. All they ask is some capital, some boltholes and a little legal cover. Sweetest deal in the world!"

"What do I think about it? Imagine what it’d be like for someone to call you and say you’d missed out on a million dollars because you got one wrong number on the lottery ticket."

"Some are too caught up in the things of humans —chasing after money to have what advertisers insist they can’t do without, living their soap-opera lives and not seeing what the world is really all about. I pity them."

"There is sweeter revenge than death."

"I laugh with joy thinking how your heart will burst should you ever have to face him in battle."

"It’s a great honor to be who I am, who we are. But it’s scary, too."

"Families can quarrel, snarl and cut one another to the quick, but in times of trouble, they’ll stick together."

"God, Allah, Gaia, the Great Spirit or whoever gave us this job, so we have to do the best we can with it."

"Blood also fetters our lives in hatred as well as love, I’m afraid to say."

"I’m not saying this is a fact, but if she was abused, it might explain some things."

"I’m sorry, I can’t quite imagine a moment of sensual passion with someone I don’t love, much less hardly know!"

"In other words, it’s the connections that’re vital, not the money or the mileage."

"Many have wealth, but not all; lineage, not money, is most important."

"That’s a heavy price to pay in a harsh world."

"Self-sacrifice is also important."

"Sacrifice comes in terms of emotional costs, too."

"It’d be pretty stupid for me to become a gun-toting mercenary, for example."

"To put a positive spin on all this, I guess I’d say it’s nice to be needed."

"I admit I don’t really understand what it is or when it’ll be, but many’s the Irish tale where a small oversight wreaked terrible disaster."

"So I got online and made a few phone calls and tried to get the “truth” in as many forms as I could."

"The word “family” has come to mean a lot more things than the 1950s concept of mommy, daddy and two perfect children."

"Raising children is no bed of roses, either."

"Kids love to test their parents and see just how far they can push and still get away with it."

"There’s no way this could be easy."

"Some days, I have to bite my tongue, and that does get old."

"I was just too stupid and blind to see it."

"I always felt like I was split, alone, part of something I couldn’t name."

"Listen, you have no idea what it’s like to watch someone you love slowly lose her mind."

"There are some, well, bimbos."

"You know, the ones that like to control CEOs and topple careers."

"Here, try a piece of this chicken gizzard. I get ’em real cheap down at the butcher shop. No one else seems to want these extra parts. I grill ’em with a little barbecue sauce and honey mustard. Delicious! Thanksgiving’s always the best time, though. Then there’s turkey necks for the takin’!"

"Our families are pretty big, and we figure even the most distant cousin or friend of a friend’s part of the group."

"I’m sure you know, working with people all the time, how far thanks and a friendly smile go when you’re dead on your feet. It’s like the sun’s come out on a cloudy day."

"I mean, some of that stuff is long outdated!"

"It’s more a matter of belief and pureness of spirit, if you ask me."

"The Network also has a lot of splinter groups that organize among youth, educators, environmentalists and so on."

"The Network also has a lot of splinter groups that organize among youth, educators, environmentalists and so on."

"We’re steadfast and steady, yet vibrant and alive, warriors, artists, writers, musicians beyond compare."

"I don’t know if we can save them, but we won’t give up."

"To be tested and accepted by the greatest warriors in the world — no greater honor can we ask for."

"Think of us as the tiny little parts that hold a machine together. Maybe it could function without us, but not without a lot of wear and tear on the system. You get my drift."

"If leader seems weak, I test him. He shows strength, I stop."

"They’re the ones who are causing all the problems by rebelling against the people in charge. They need to settle down and just be content with what they’ve got, if you want my opinion."

"Why should I worry? It’s a clear day. Traffic’s light, but walking’s fine. You get to see where you’re going. I’ll hit a little town ’fore dark and trade a song or story for some food and a piece of floor."

"Revolutions are intolerable and inexcusable."

"The aristocracy attained their positions for a reason, for only the most worthy were chosen to lead, after all. If the

lower classes overthrow the aristocrats, anarchy is the sure result. One need only look at history; Can the Russians truly say their lot improved after they murdered the Romanovs?"

"History has always been a beloved subject to me."

"I pity those souls, displaced by fortune, who are ignorant of their heritage. How can one know who he is without knowing where he comes from? A man — or woman — is the sum of all who came before."

"Money is not the issue; many great families lost their fortunes, yet retain their nobility."

"It’s a poor teacher who doesn’t learn from her student; in this way, the knowledge of both increases."

"Dreams, of course, are the pathways of our souls; here rest our secret desires, fears and hopes."

"You doubt me. You don’t speak against me, but I can see your heart is dubious."

"There’s no greater glory than to serve the destiny of the universe."

"The lacerations looked exactly like the work of sharp teeth, deep into his flesh."

"I won’t go s’far as to say there’s undying loyalty, but we do have a lot of respect for each other."

"Were I as capable as my ancestors, I’d kill you now and never spare a second thought."

"No atonement can replace those lost children."

"Thus far, we have been lucky, but it’s just a matter of time before someone we don’t want sneaks in. It’s not that I want to close ranks by any means; I just wish we paid a little closer attention to who came in from the cold."

"Yeah, yeah, I know you think we’re a dime a dozen. I’d like to believe we’re a little more special than most."

"We’ve built too much for a rotten apple to spoil it all."

"I don’t believe this guy; it seems almost too perfect to be true!"

[thecorteztwins]

Mythical creatures au!!

Delgado would obviously be some manner of giant. Maybe just a giant in general, or maybe something more specific like a troll or ogre or jotun. Maybe a sort of earth elemental, like a rock giant, this massive humanoid just made from earth and stone, with patches of green growing out of him here and there. Like he can actually support LIFE on himself, I love that, and I think it’s a good external clue to his nurturing side. I think he’d be a guardian of something, like an item or a sacred site, and probably charged with letting no one pass or no one take this thing but the worthy, etc. You know these guys, they turn up in fiction all the time. But once someone does pass, or the worthy person takes the thing, what then? Where does the guardian go? No one ever asks, because it’s the hero’s story, but everyone is the hero of his own story. Maybe that’s how he hooked up with the others—to find his own story now that he’d served his role in someone else’s. Chrome…I want to say kobold because of the affinity with metal but they’re tiny underground creatures and he’s super tall and can fly? Maybe alchemist because his mutant ability is transmuting things but an alchemist isn’t a mythological creature, it’s just a person who tries to perform transmutation with magic or science. I think it’d be best to go with something like “sprite” or “elf” or “goblin” because, like giants, those are very general sorts of terms and just what they are/what they look like/etc varies so much in story to story (compare Tolkien elves to Santa’s elves, for instance) that you can kinda make it fit anything. Or one of the little fairies, with an unnatural skin color like blue, and a lot of insect-like features—-extra arms, feet like grasshopper or cockroach feet, really long limbs, as much like a stickbug as a person. And lots of nasty little teeth. Maybe some firefly aspects, namely glowing from his inside, which must look SO freaky. I’ve always liked fairies that look a lot more strange and alien than just pretty little people with wings—less Tinkerbell, more del Toro. He’s definitely Tinkerbell in terms of being sassy and troublemaking though, he’d totally be a gremlin and fuck up machinery with his metal powers and stuff. Humans think their technology is immune to the elemental powers of the fey? Ha! Everyone thinks fairies are just about flowers and shit, but guess what, metal is found in nature too! It comes from the earth! And it’s HIS element, suckers!Fabian is a vampire, predatory and parasitic. And, if you go with the Stoker interpretation, aristocratic assholes with harems who don’t shut up about their noble heritage (Fabian apparently comes from Spanish aristocracy and makes a point of saying rules don’t apply to him because he’s ROYALTY DAMMIT yeah this is canon *eyerolls forever at him*)I think Anne Marie would fit best as an angel. Not a nice greeting card angel, but the kind that makes you remember that these are the messengers of an angry God who know nothing of mortal life nor have mortal mindsets. Her black-and-white to-the-letter thinking, her monstrous innocence, her mindless devotion to her master (only man has free will, remember), and her utter inability to deal with the horror that is Earthly life because she’s only used to Heaven. And you want to feel sorry for her until you remember the victims of her judgement.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hGz8KB_b4ZkIt’s called pain, Anne Marie. Get used to it.Alternatively, the twins could be a fairy-being specifically from Spanish folklore, the Aloja. They’re all-female, but let’s just say that’s what humans THINK. Fabian, ironically, is actually a better example of an Aloja than Anne Marie—they’re supposed to have shimmering gold or red hair, and emerald or deep blue eyes; wear fine, rich clothes; and enjoy viewing their reflections in lakes on full-moon nights because they’re so prideful of their beauty. Fabian’s a blue-eyed redhead who dresses pretty well in a masculine way, and he’s sure as fuck vain. They’re said to be “water-women” but also be able to turn into blackbirds, and sometimes have beautiful wings of various colors, so I picture them as having both mer-people and avian traits. Like maybe their wings are more feathery scales than they are actual feathers. I like the idea of the feathers/scales being black (like blackbirds, duh) but have an iredescence like an opal when light shines on them, hence the “various colors” part of the story. Like have you ever seen something so black but so reflective that it has a rainbow? Like an oil slick. This starling, for instance:http://www.mangoverde.com/wbg/images/00000010477.jpg Or this gracklehttp://ebird.org/content/ebird/wp-content/uploads/sites/55/COGR2.jpgTheir hair would have a similar iridescence, hence the accounts of it “shimmering”Or they’re white witches, and enjoyed a high status in their community as sort of local folk saints, only experiencing (to their shock) persecution when they visited the wider world as adults. Anne Marie was saddened, Fabian was offended.

[mythicamagic]

DL boys and shared themes with Disney Characters;

This explanation is not supposed to represent the diaboys BEING these characters, I’m not saying Shuu is Simba lol We’re talking shared themes here. If you step back from the characters as they are and look solely at their themes and not their appearance or quirks, then you can see some parallels even in their characterisation. But this is just for fun, please don’t take it seriously:

Shuu - Simba - Pain from the past, expectations to take on the crown, loss/grief:

Because of grief, he suffers subsequent procrastination/loss of motivation. He wants to change the past even as he submerges himself mentally in ‘comfort’ to escape his thoughts (Simba in the valley which literally looks like paradise, Shuu with sleep and music). Needs to stop running from loss, blaming himself, and to face it, learn from it. Eventual growth happens to both characters once they do this and also embrace the embodiment of a possible future. (Nala, Yui)

Reiji - Scar -  Envy, intelligence, inferiority complex towards older brother:

Wants to be respected more so than his other family members, will commit murder if pushed to it. Is prideful but has an inferiority complex towards elder sibling. His intelligence shines through even under his curt and condescending manner. Appears to be searching for acknowledgement of his talents and of himself, even with his certainty of the skills he possesses. Subtly manipulative.

Ayato - Kuzco/Maui-  Selfish, insecure underneath bravado and narcissistic: 

Kuzco side - Unsympathetic to the plights of others, self-centered, cocky, and has a sense of flair and style. Very used to holding everyone emotionally at arms length, and therefore doesn’t understand the value of kindness. Learns this trait through another, though has trouble practising it. Despite their flaws, it is generally difficult to dislike him due to their comical conceitedness bordering on ignorance for how 'wrong’ his rude attitude is.

Maui side - Thrown into a body of water when he was younger and generally unloved by his mother. Believes that his skills equates his self worth. Is generally a very good fighter and skilled, though they obviously know it. Is underneath it all, insecure because of his mothers treatment, but hides it with bravado.

Laito - Clopin - Has a neutrality towards both good and evil:

Is often philosophical and a wry observer of everyone’s lives. Has a macabre sense of humour and plays the role of a harmless jester type when his intelligence inevitably shines through. Playful yet capable of cruelty. “We find you totally innocent, which is the worst crime of all~ So you’re going to hang!”

Kanato - Peter pan - Childish, 'innocent’ and cruel:

He represents a fear of change so stays in a childlike stasis even as he mercilessly kills others in the name of fun. (Peter kills the pirates) Selfish yet lonely and strangely isolated even when they’re in a group ethic. (Lost Boys, or the Sakamakis)

Subaru - Beast - Lonely, angry and distrustful:

Isolates himself because he believes himself ugly. Is deeply emotionally vulnerable under it all, and therefore becomes volatile if someone gets too close, lashing out. Only truly finds himself when he realises his bratty coping methods of destruction solve nothing and starts to see the humanity in himself and his captive, who becomes his love interest.

Mukamis under cut~

Ruki - Shere Khan/Prince Hans - Manipulative, goal orientated, educated:

Dammit I’m putting Sher Khan instead of Frollo despite some theme similarities with Ruki, because I’m sorry, I just can’t associate Frollo with Ruki’s character. Not with the boy who’s pride was wrestled with on the streets and whom became a leader of other boys (one of whom is speculated to be a gypsy and Ruki never oppressed any of them for their race) His temptation themes are very similar but I don’t want to explore it because dammit Frollo is the evilest Disney character ever. I’ll just narrow it down to - Ruki is only similar to Frollo in that in his More Blood Manservant End, he loses the fight with his inner turmoil that kept him sane and literally decided - If I can’t have her, no one can. Very..Hellfireish. But that’s it! Ahem. Sher Khan side - Wants revenge on mankind after he’s been wronged in the past. Was wounded in some way by fire. Is protective and possessive of what he consider his (the jungle, the Mukamis, Yui) An A class manipulator. Gathers information in the shadows and listens before striking, very good with words, charming but cold and commanding. Prince Hans side - Uses the guise of a gentleman to get what he wants before revealing his true self. Sticks to his end goal (obtaining the kingdom, becoming Adam) no matter the cost. The ends justify the means. Has an air of arrogance and pride, but is considered an outcast from his station as a Prince/aristocrat.

Kou - Aladdin - Dishonest, street urchin, identity problems:

Is a compulsive liar because of his past making him fear telling the truth or believing completely in others. Believes he can be discarded without a second thought, and therefore constructs a persona that will make others trust and like him (Prince Ali, Idol Kou) This however, creates a divide between them and their true selves. They consider their true selves (the street urchins) to be less valuable and resent this. Aladdin however, sympathises with others in his situation (the orphans/Princess Jasmine, before he knew she was a princess). Kou doesn’t like to do this with Yui, and instead recreates situations of his abuse to humiliate and torment her. In doing so, he finds himself disturbed by his feelings of connection with her. He distrusts her feelings for him and ‘tests’ her.

Yuma- Shang/Eugene - Orphan, has group ethics, arrogance, certainty of skills:

Shang side - Good in group dynamics, very psychically able, wants to make someone he considers important proud of them. (Shang with his father, Yuma with Lucks) After his role model dies, he soldiers on in their memory. Both are very respectful of their dead role model (Shang with the sword, and Yuma with the roses) Talented fighter. Eugene Fitzherbert - Was an orphan and again, looks up to his role model. (Eugene with Flynn Rider) Has a very loose moral compass, which makes him a little brash and arrogant with a rougeish charm. Both can be teasing, and generally fall in love with smol optimistic/headstrong blonde girls.

Azusa - Quasimodo - Socially Awkward, lonely, touch starved:

Latches onto unhealthy coping mechanisms (Azusa - Cutting. Quasi - Frollo and the gargoyles. If they were not real) and is deep down desperate for acceptance and love. Latches onto the first person with who shows him positive attention (Yui, because her attention is different from his relationship with his brothers vs Esmeralda) and becomes fixated on them.  The way they differ however, is that Quasi eventually lets Esmeralda go, because he values her happiness above his own needs. Azusa can’t. He can’t psychically or mentally let go of Yui in any ending.

[singingwordwright]

Untitled Malec D&D AU fic beginning

I have no idea if this is ever going to become a full thing. Yesterday over on Twitter, @janoda posted a thread that I found awesome, and then @roseglass had the gall to fucking encourage me to run with it. But I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to complete it because I can’t at this point see what the thing is going to look like or how it will shape up, but I’m going to try.

Still, in case it doesn’t work out, here’s a peek at what I’ve done so far.

Keep in mind, it’s been 25 years since I’ve played D&D, and even then the campaign didn’t get very far before our group broke up. I think 3rd edition was still new when I last played. Or maybe it wasn’t even out yet, I don’t remember. To handwave all that, let’s just assume this is an extremely homebrewed campaign.

To avoid making things confusing (and having to come up with new names for all the in-game characters) they’re just going by the players’ names, or variants thereof.

(also, I have to give my first DM credit for Simon’s approach to this situation. Some of this is pretty much ripped straight from our first campaign.)

The red-gold glow of the campfire somehow revealed the new aasimar ranger’s celestial heritage far better than daylight. He looked like an effigy cast in bronze, his cheekbones higher and more aristocratic, his thick lashes darker. The firelight picked the golden flecks out of his hazel eyes and made them dance.

And his mouth. Magnus desperately wanted to see those plush lips wrapped around his…

...Those heavy lashes swept up and Alexander’s eyes met Magnus’s across the fire. Just for a second, before he shook the fringe of hair off his brow and quickly turned his attention back to tending to the fletching on his arrows, repairing those that could be repaired, salvaging arrowheads from those too broken to reuse before feeding them into the fire.

Magnus continued to stare boldly, willing Alexander to meet his gaze again. Magnus had a reputation to uphold, after all. He prided himself on being about to seduce anyone without ever speaking a word, and Alexander was interested, Magnus was sure of it. Their party had been avoiding villages lately, so tavern wenches and stable lads had been few and far between, and Magnus was feeling the itch that came upon him from time to time. Sooner or later, it would become a distraction. He’d be less effective if he didn’t scratch it.

But Alexander didn’t look up again. Was he offended by the fact that Magnus was a tiefling? They would be an unlikely pairing, to be sure, even if Magnus’s only mark of his bloodline was his cat-like eyes. Somehow, though, Magnus didn’t think Alexander was the sort to hold that against him. More worrying were the whispers he’d overheard between Clarissa, the human bard, and Isabelle, their Amazonian fighter. They had picked up rumors somewhere that Alexander was betrothed, or nearly so, and the match was important if he was going to clear his family name. Of what, no one knew, only that his parents had tarnished their reputation and it was up to their firstborn son to cleanse the stain.

Still, even if he was betrothed, he probably didn’t even know the girl. Surely he wouldn’t mind stepping away from the campfire and…

...the shimmer of firelight reflecting off scales snagged Magnus’s attention as Camille stepped between Magnus and the object of his interest.

“Need something, darling?”

*****

Magnus gritted his teeth and tried not to glare at Simon. When they’d decided to use a random character trait generator to give each of their characters a couple quirks for the new campaign, Magnus had thought it was hilarious when his trait came up as “nymphomaniac.” It had also seemed like the perfect opportunity to flirt with Izzy’s brother, whom she’d finally convinced to join their group.

But then Simon had declared that these traits would involve bonuses and penalties where appropriate. If Magnus’s warlock didn’t get laid, his spells were going to become increasingly less accurate and/or effective until he finally found companionship. But Alec wasn’t accepting the opening Magnus had given him.

Camille, however…

“I’ll take some of that warlock action,” she announced, smirking.

Only Simon’s strict “play nice” rules kept Magnus from reminding her that her cheating ass wouldn’t be getting any of his action ever again, thankyouverymuch. Any player who said something openly antagonistic toward another player was liable to find their character being smacked down in-game by the DM. The last time Magnus had gotten too snarky, his Hellish Rebuke had ended up surrounding his foe with flower petals instead of flames.

Dammit, why had Raphael’s older sister decided to join their group anyway? No one liked her. The only reason Simon had allowed her to join was to keep the peace, and because she was likely to get bored and move on after a few weeks when she realized she was not going to be the star of the show.

So now Magnus was stuck. He could turn Camille down and swallow the in-game penalty, or he could gamely go along with it--which was, frankly, what his warlock would happily do--and wait for the next chance to flirt with Alec and his alter ego.

Maia, bless her heart, tried to make the save for him. After all, she’d been the one slamming back tequila shots with him after he’d broken up with Camille.

“Are we sure yuan-ti are even sexually compatible with tieflings?” she asked.

“Yuan-ti pureblood. The most human-like of the yuan-ti. Try to keep up, sweetie,” Camille said, smirking. Maia’s fist clenched on the table, and Magnus suspected she, too, was reciting Simon’s play-nice rule to herself.

Magnus forced a smile and nodded. “Okay, then.”

Simon clapped his hands together loudly. “All right, O-check! I want d100s from both of you!”

A chorus of hoots and wolf-whistles followed. Raphael merely rolled his eyes. Even Alec’s lips twitched, though mostly he was jotting something down on his character sheet and letting them do their thing.

Magnus rolled 90. Camille rolled 89.

Everyone lost their shit. The howls and cat-calls got louder. Simon burst out laughing as Magnus accepted Jace’s fist-bump.

“When you’re good, you’re good,” he said, playing it off with a smirk.

“Not only was it good, it was damn near simultaneous,” Simon declared. “Magnus’s itch should be well-scratched for a while.”

Thank God for that. He had no intention of even remembering his warlock’s nymphomaniac trait again until Camille left the group.

[savetheblackpaladin]

Sooooooo I was thinking what would Shiro do if his s/o showed up to party in a sexy black dress just to get him back for spending so much time with Voltron P.s I love your Blog!

I like the way you think! I do love me some petty revenge.

“Hey Shiro! What are you up to today? Cause I was thinking–”

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I need to go over Voltron’s last battle and come up with some sort of game plan,” Shiro sighs and glowers at the screen in his hand, “We should have taken that Robeast out before it had that chance to knock us down. Maybe if I had had Lance and Hunk move us–” He’s talking more to himself now so you just cluck your tongue and walk away. Maybe next time.

You paced back and forth on the observation deck, growing increasingly agitated with every slowly passing minute. Seriously? He’s thirty minutes late! Where the hell was your boyfriend?!

You stop and loudly vent your frustration before storming storming towards the training deck. God help Shiro if he’s still training during date night because oh…he’s not here. None of the paladins are. So, clearly they finished? 

You sigh and head towards the rooms. You can hear various showers running and the thought of scaring the crap out of Shiro while he’s showering brings a skip to your step. But when Shiro’s door opens, you can see him laying face first in bed with his armor still on. You deflate and let his door shut on its own. If he’s tired enough to sleep in his armor then there’s no point in waking him. 

And so it keeps happening. Every time you think you finally get Shiro on his own he either has Voltron related business, extra training, or is passed out in places he shouldn’t be. It’s frustrating. It’s vexing. It’s starting to piss you off. 

Of course, you don’t think you’re more important than defending the universe from evil purple aliens but dammit, it hurts to be pushed aside so easily! 

But tonight…oh-hoho, tonight you were going to get back at the Black Paladin. 

You see, Allura, Coran, and Shiro have been in negotiations for the last week or so with the twin High Priestesses of Il’rea, who have long been fighting the Galra in their own quadrant of space. They’ve been highly successful; due to the combined power of Lady Arcadia’s tactics and Lady Selena’s bloodlust and frankly, Team Voltron needed help from people like them if there was any hope to defeat Prince Lotor. 

Tonight, the whole planet was celebrating the new alliance in Voltron’s honor with a huge party. Food, music, pretty girls, pretty guys (just pretty people in general), and displays of power and magic promised to be a fun night.

But there was a small problem. The problem was, as Lance put it: “Those Priestesses are total babes! They could literally crack my skull between their thighs and I would die happy.” Whether he was on duty or not, Shiro was spending a lot of time with beautiful women that were not you and tonight was the night you were going to drag his attention back, Voltron and the Alliance be damned. Especially since it’s been a good two weeks since you two had some true alone time. 

You smiled triumphantly at the sexy little black number hanging on the back of your door, ‘Watch Shiro ignore this.’

Shiro missed you. God, he missed you so much it started to hurt and the guilt he was carrying about temporarily pushing you aside to focus on Voltron was starting to haunt his nightmares. He was determined to fix it tonight. He was going to apologize for being a shit boyfriend, apologize for overworking himself, and apologize for making the love of his life feel like she no longer mattered to him. 

Keith had made it a point to find Shiro tell him that last little tidbit last night. It hurt. It hurt so bad Shiro actually spent most of the night crying and beating himself up mentally for that one. He royally fucked up, and he knew it.

So when the shuttle carrying you and the Paladins arrived, his heart began racing and Shiro felt the telltale fluttering in his stomach that told him he was nervous. But there were only four bodies on that shuttle and none of them yours. Concerned, Shiro pulled Keith aside to speak to him in a low whisper, “Hey, Keith. Wh-where’s Y/N? Isn’t she coming?”

Keith pursed his lips and glared. Shiro dropped his hand from Keith’s arm and took a step back, caught off guard by the uncharacteristic hostility in his friend’s eyes. He waits and Keith looks away before clearing his throat, “She’s not coming. She said she has a migraine so she’s going to take advantage of a silent castle and sleep it off. She doesn’t want you there.” He walks away with a final glare, making sure to clip his shoulder against Shiro’s. 

Shiro rubs his shoulder and glances towards the other paladins. He blanches as they quickly turn away to hide their glares. Crestfallen, Shiro swallows the lump in his throat and blinks back the tears that threaten to spill. He has a job to do tonight so he steels himself and turns around, stepping out of Takashi Shirogane - the failing boyfriend, and into Shiro - the Black Paladin and Leader of Voltron. 

He doesn’t see Lance and Hunk sharing concerned glances as they wonder if they took their glares too far or Pidge and Keith giving each other a thumbs up. He also misses you slipping out of your hiding place in the pod and moving to the next hiding place, shoes in hand. Allura, who has been your silent partner in tonight’s shenanigans, gives you a wink as she steps in front of your new spot, further hiding you. Bless her. She’s just as petty as you are.

Parties.

There was a time in his life that Shiro once enjoyed a good party and the chance to get shit-faced drunk without a care in the world. Now his anxiety was acting up, telling him there were too many people, too many points of entry, too many chances for an assassin to sneak in, this is was just another chance to get Lance blow–no. No. He needs to stop. There’s no point in thinking like that.

God, he needed a drink.

Luckily, Il’rea has alcohol, or something like it, and Shiro grabs a glass from a passing waiter and downs it in one gulp. Much better.

He grabbed another drink with every intention of downing that one too but he was stopped when he saw you flitting through the crowd. But it couldn’t be you, you were in the castle. Right?

He drops the glass from his mouth and moves to follow what he swears was you. His searching is fruitless and Shiro gives it up as a bad job only a few minutes later. He was looking for a black dress in a sea of black and white with little variation. Why couldn’t the woman have been wearing a red dress? That would be so much easier!

Like Allura! Shiro could make her out easily since her dress started as a bright yellow and faded to a soft orange. She looked like an Earth sunset was easily the brightest person in the room. Shiro smiled as she laughed at some aristocrat’s joke, happy to finally see her so carefree after the stressful week they had. He wished he could be like that.

He watched for a few more moments and was about to turn away when Allura hooked her arm through the arms of another woman and they turned as one to move together. His heart stopped for a split second because he knows that face. He knows that face.

Where Allura was as radiant as the sun, there you were, looking like the human embodiment of the night. Your hair was pulled up and artfully messy, lips painted a deep purple to match purple eye shadow, the front of your black gown draped over you to deeply expose your breasts and Shiro swallowed when he saw the long beautiful silver necklace he found for you sitting innocently on your chest. The last time he saw it he was watching it shimmer and shine as it moved with every thrust of his hips against yours.

You looked like Sin. And when your eyes locked Shiro swore then and there to have you underneath him before the night was over. He continued watching with hungry eyes as Allura twirled you two around and revealed the (pretty much non-existent) back of your dress and he changed it to within the hour. The wink you gave him over the shoulder as you disappeared into the crowd gave him the fuel he needed.

But it wasn’t that easy. Every time he got close to you, Hunk or Lance would whisk you away for a dance and pass you off to someone high ranking enough in the Il’rean hierarchy that Shiro knew it would cause tension if he just cut in, so he was forced to wait. 

And wait.

 And wait. Prowling like a panther at the edge of the dancing crowd, waiting for his chance to snatch you up.

Eventually there was a lull in the music and Shiro used it to beeline towards you, determined to have you in his arms and screaming his name in one of the smaller rooms next door. But he was stopped by Keith shoving a plate of food in his hands with a cheeky grin. “You haven’t eaten all night. Here. It’s delicious.”

“I-Uh…What? Oh,” he looked down at the plate just long enough to loose you in the crowd again and he cursed his luck. And his crew, the shits. He could spy Pidge up on the balcony, no doubt keeping an eye on the situation and instructing each of the Paladins to intercept him every time he got too close. He should have known they’d be in on this. They do like to stir up trouble. 

Well. There would be no getting to you this way. Not with Pidge directing them. And he couldn’t just run up there like a psychopath and stop her. She’d see him. He popped some of the food Keith brought him into his mouth and saluted Pidge. If this was his punishment, it was his punishment. But he could spoil their fun by giving in. His own private revenge on his crew for their mutiny.

“Surprise, surprise. You didn’t come for me,” you sigh as you lean against the balcony entryway. Shiro turns towards you with a bittersweet smile, “Would you have let me?” He leans against the balcony, doing his best to appear nonchalant even though his heart was hammering in his chest because there you are! His beautiful girlfriend! The light of his life! The woman he would willingly risk life and limb for! Dear god, he could see how pissed you were.

You fake thinking for a moment, making sure to bring a finger to your lips, just to enjoy the way Shiro’s eyes darken at such an innocent gesture. “No, not really. I was enjoying myself soooo much. I didn’t want to distract myself with my significant other.” Your pointed glare hits home and Shiro drops his gaze to the floor. You do nothing but wait, letting his shame settle in.

You soften as his shoulders drop and he slowly walks towards you, frightened that with each step closer he moves, you will bolt. You both release the breaths you didn’t know you were holding as Shiro slowly brings his forehead to yours. His large hands feel so right as snakes them around your waist and just holds you, taking a moment just to savor you in his arms before he can gather the courage to speak. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to push you away. I didn’t intend to make you feel like you don’t matter to me, because you do. You are–I love you,” you gasp at his confession and the urge to scream ‘I love you too!’ is almost to much to bear but Shiro isn’t done talking, so you bite your tongue. Literally. “I made a mistake. I need to try harder. I will try harder. For you and Voltron.” 

The kiss he gives you is so tender and so sweet it nearly brings tears to your eyes. You pull him down for another harder kiss as he pulls away, wrapping your arms around his neck for leverage before pulling away enough to mumble against his lips, “You beautiful idiot. I love you so much but you’re too hard on yourself. I just…I missed you.”

You buried yourself into Shiro’s chest and squeezed him tight, enjoying the way his arms tightened against you and the gentle way he nuzzles into your hair. He was so warm and comforting and you couldn’t believe that you had gone nearly two weeks without this. These were the moments you lived for: domesticity in a universe at war.

“I’m going to fuck you in that dress the moment we get back to the castle,” his voice is low and gravely in your ear and you shivered. Moment ruined. 

“I’ve had to watch you prance around in that sorry excuse for a dress all night. Did you even see how much people wanted you?” A moan escapes as Shiro mouths directly against your ear and he moves his cool metal hand up your exposed back. You can feel his half-hard erection against your hip and he grins wickedly against your ear as he lightly rocks against you, “You naughty thing, I’m going to–”

“Sorry to interrupt,” you and Shiro jerk apart as Lady Arcadia glides by, her sister in tow, “but might I trouble you to use one of the rooms down the hall? As lovely as public displays of affection are, surely you two would enjoy privacy?” They quirk twin eyebrows and smirk, gliding away the way they came. 

You adjust your dress and hair, thankful that you were interrupted before anything else started. You share a bashful look with Shiro and clasp hands before re-joining the party; putting a pause on your libidos to play ambassadors. There would be time to play later tonight.

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[penzyroamin]

Yknow, one of the reasons I love Valkyrie so much is that the idea of a drunk asshole who represses their feelings and hides all human emotion under mean jokes is. An idea that's so often only written for guys. And that's always been the kind of role I love playing the most.. Women are hardly written as leering assholes without being the villains. There aren't many women who get to play the drunk-selfish-jerk-with-a-heart-of-gold trope. And seeing Tessa Thompson kill the role gives me hope for more chances for women to be able to dig into characters like that and bring them to their full potential, to have both teary, emotional apologies and constant sneering. I really genuinely hope that Hollywood, and Broadway, are going to expand to the point where I’ll be able to watch a women make a crass joke and do a snort-laugh-thingie at it while the man next to her does the “I'm a WOMAN and men are so IMMATURE and I'm going to get back to business while they make CRUDE HUMOROUS STATEMENTS because I'm DIGINIFIED” head toss and sigh.

Or even... Make casting for things more gender-neutral. Let women and nb people play classic male characters. I am willing to buy a theater and the rights to different shows myself if it means that people get to have fun with roles they usually can't. If I want to make another pride and prejudice movie where Mr Darcy is a rude aristocratic woman who turns her nose up at Elizabeth’s family because of their lower standing and some lady gets to be sniffy and rude and arrogant, I'll try my damn hardest to make that shit happen. Because everyone deserves to play the type of character they want to. Regardless of race, regardless of gender, regardless of sexuality.

Dammit. Let fictional women be assholes without being irredeemable because they made Billy The White Cishet Bro doubt his masculinity. In a world where Kyle Ron is given too many second chances after literally murdering people, that should be possible.

[authorpersonhas1care]

Checkmate Ciel Phantomhive x Reader Part 3

Enjoy~

Ima try to end this part so yay!

Also, cuss words?

Also, Lau is not only annoying to write for but he has no known name anywhere for him, it makes me mad.

Also, I just realized that I ain’t following Grim Reapers rules for Black Butler Whoops~ I’ma just make them have new powers depending on who they are, because they be boring

(F/C) is favorite color in case you didn’t know

“George, who saves a queen?” I asked sweetly. I was either gonna continue to be human or just ‘die’ and become a full-time reaper, either way, I was bored and contemplating everything I could do. “A king I would believe, Lady (Y/n). Why, if I may ask?” I gave a sigh, dying wouldn’t do there was no dramatic way that would make sense for me. I need something in my life to help me with my boredom. “Do we have a case available.” I wouldn’t answer George’s question, I never really did, not until I left the room and he couldn’t question me further. “The Queen has asked for you to get more intel on a new gentleman in town,” I gave a sigh, “There are no new gentlemen in this town George, it’s London. A boring place. You know most people want to go to Paris anyway!” I was acting like a child, I knew but, dammit I was bored. George gave me an annoyed look before continuing. “Apparently his name is Lau and there is no last name known. He apparently is the British branch manager of the Shanghai trading company. He is also a part of the Aristocrats of Evil and has been seen working with that Ciel Phantomhive.” I gave a frustrated sigh. I could invite him to a party and feign interest into him as he is a foreigner, but would he even come if he didn’t have to? One way to make him come was to invite Ciel and his associates as a way to connect ties. But would Ciel make Lau come? They were all extremely hard to read even for me. “Could I just pop up and talk to them?” George gave an exasperated sigh and stood up from the chair in front of my desk. He turned to leave the room. But, before he left he turned around to me. “(Y/N) make a decision soon to stay or leave, as your caretaker, I must only make sure you don’t get hurt. But if you are to stay we both need to know.” To stay or leave was a question that I had to answer by the end of the year. As I was to start reaping souls this age they needed to know if I was coming over and their strenuous workforce would have two reapers to help them or not. “George! I would like to stay.” I gave a small smile. “Very well. I’ll tell them.” He turned away and walked out of the room. I got up from my chair and walked behind my chair to look out of my window. “Meow” I looked up in shock completely forgetting about the kitten. I looked over to the two chairs in front of my desk. In the chair that George hadn’t sat was the kitten. “I really need to give you name, huh little guy?” I whispered out with a small giggle. “How about Midnight?” The kitten gave a small mew and cuddled further into my hand. I giggled at the affection. “Midnight it is then!” I picked the kitten and put in my lap stroking the soft fur and thinking about how to get information about the guy Lau. All I knew as of yet was that he ran opium dens underground and had a personal assassin. “I know!”

I had heard that Ciel was busy solving the Jack the Ripper case. A bloody one to boot. From my sources, they were going to the party at Viscount Druitt’s abode. And from sources, I mean that annoying red reaper Grell. To think Ciel let a demon and that obscene reaper around him as well. But then there was the thought that he didn’t know. I was a bit hesitant about going to the Viscount Druitt’s party as I knew of his selling of women. The reason the queen didn’t know was, she only asked for information about certain things, she never required me to tell her every piece of information. I would go to the party, I was invited after all, and I would spy on Lau or ask that annoying reaper if I didn’t get anything. After getting George to agree to let me go, Marielle helped dress me into the corset. The dress I was in for the occasion was a simple (F/C) dress with white and black accents. My shoes were simple black flats. My hair was styled in curls that flowed down my back and some over my shoulder. As George helped me into my carriage, I thought about my meeting with Ciel. He had grown quite well and was very handsome. Too bad he was betrothed to an ignorant girl of the underworld. But I couldn’t change fate. If I could I would stop Ciel from forming a contract with that demon. 

I got out of the carriage and stepped up the marble steps and into the party. George seemed uncharacteristically nervous for once. “I’ll be fine go wait somewhere else,” I whispered with a sly smile. “Of course Lady (Y/N).” He walked off without another word as I made my way to the edge of the dance floor but close to the door. I guessed so that the viscount would acknowledge Ciel, he would cross dress. It would be a sight to see. Shortly after they appeared in the doorway. I waited for them to cross over to the dance floor. I walked over to them and put on my best fake smile, “Well aren’t you the belle or the ball! I’m (Y/N) (L/N) and you are?” I asked. I had just to get close to gain interest from Lau and I could invite him over for business. “I am terribly sorry Lady (Y/N) but my mistress and I have somewhere to be.” Sebastian gave a smile and quickly guided Ciel away. I watched over them. I then turned around to Lau, Angelina Dalles, and that flipping red reaper. I gave a little giggle before I spoke. “Well that was interesting, may I ask your names?” I spoke giving a closed-eyed smile. Angelina was the first to speak, “Well aren’t you adorable! Just call me Madame Red! And this here is my Butler Grell and..” She was cut off by Sebastian starting a magic trick and inviting Lau up to help him. I gave Sebastian an irritated look which caused the bastard to smirk even more. 

The party went smoothly except for my getting kidnapped just because I was on the balcony near the Viscount and Ciel. The blankets on the cages lifted and I could see around me. “You're kidding me, right!” I whispered-yelled. Ciel looked over at me, “Why are you here?” He whispered to me. I gave him a glare before saying “Having a fantastic time!” I looked out at the crowd, “Wow, that’s a lot of death.” My head hurt from all of the death going to happen and all of the souls to be reaped. I finally tuned into the Viscount to hear him selling Ciel and me. “And the other one is a (Y/H/C)-ette and should go for a quite a hefty price as she is the one who holds the most blackmail information, control her control most of England.” I gave a scoff, more than just most of England practically all of it. “When is your demon getting here!” I whispered to him. Ciel rolled his eyes before ordering Sebastian to come and get him. After Sebastian took out the room and got Ciel out he helped me out as well. I stood up and brushed off my dress, “Well if you’ll excuse I have to get out of here before I’m blamed.” All traces of a smile gone. I was a bit mad. I got kidnapped, that wasn’t supposed to happen. “Wait! Come back to my manor with us there is something I want to talk about,” I was startled by Ciel’s outburst. But I turned around with a small smile on my face and answered, “Why not.”

Well carp, I didn’t finish it.

Oh well, next time.

[thereddestclansman-blog]

I really need someone to write a sarumi fic based off of Kate and Leopold I MEAN WHAT *gets shot*

So I had to look up what this was and only got a basic rundown on what it is. ^^’ dont think it’s enough for a fic, but I could write some half-assed scenario! :D this isn’t going to be exactly like the movie because I’ve never seen it. ^^’ sorry!

Okay okay so you have 21st century Yata who’s an executive for his company, Homra and he is absolutely driven to succeed. What really gets this guy recognized is his blazing determination and head-first attitude. And then you have grouchy aristocrat Saru from the 1800’s. He lives alone in his mansion because his shitty dad finally died and his mom is too busy doing whatever to be there. That’s okay because the house and wealth is in his name now, so the only human interaction he needs is occasionally with his sparkly butler Munakata.

So, something happens that sends Saru to the future. I’m imagining him standing in the middle of a busy street in NYC and just horrified at all these people because ewe. He just standing there looking around, eyes probably aching from all the bright lights. He finally gets run into by some kid(??) in a suit. The kid stops and yells at him to move his ass. Saru just raises his eyebrow at Yata, eyeing his suit and briefcase. He pretty quickly figures out that hes some sort of business working and gives Yata a smirk. “Since when do they let kids work in business?” Yata just gets even angrier. He yells at Saru about how he’s late and doesn’t need to take this shit from some costumed freak and runs off. Saru slips away from the crowd and finds a nice dark quiet….filthy alley to hide in. So it’s around afternoon time now and Yata is walking along trying to find something to get for lunch. He’s a bit frustrated because he was trying to bring up a new idea to his boss, Mikoto…but his boss slept through the entire presentation. He still got the go ahead to do what he planned, but he put a lot of effort into that presentation dammit. He stops when he sees someone standing against the wall in the ally. He almost doesn’t recognize him at first. He the realizes that shit….that’s the fucker from this morning.

By this time Saru has probably figured out what’s happened and he’s having a silent freak out. When he’s approached by Yata again, Yata is looking kinda concerned. He asks if Saru is okay and Saru just smirks like “Why is a kid like you concerned~?” Yata eventually drags him back to the apartment and calls his supervisor, Kusanagi to tell him he won’t be back in for the day because he got sick. He finds out that Saru is really from the past and just has this moment of awe like “That’s so cool!!” And Saru isn’t totally blushing nope nope not Saru shut up before he stabs you shush.

So Saru lives with Yata and ‘helps’ with chores….meaning occasionally washing a singular dish and doing a load of laundry. After living a while with him though he starts falling in love. Yata of course feels the same way but these two dweebs can’t confess to each other. Mikoto’s daughter Anna (they babysit her occasionally) totally sees through it though and has to try to get them together. ;D

[radioleary-blog]

Long Names and Outsourcing Superheroes

It’s not easy writing political comedy.

One factor is the impermanence of a political joke. Even a great political joke has an expiration date, and political narratives change fast these days. Your average political joke has a shorter shelf-life than a pint of half & half that you left in the car. “Honey...when did I write this joke about Trump getting golden showers from Russian prostitutes? Is it still any good or should I throw it away?”

“How does it smell?” she replies from the living room.

“Whew! Pretty funky...I think it’s turned. Dammit! That was a good one.”

“So write a new one,” she says dully, without looking away from whatever TV program has unattractive British servants enduring wretched lives of 19th century drudgery. Which accounts for about half of all PBS programs. Or should I say “programmes.” They’re so depressing. They ought to call it “Downer Abbey.” Or “Upstairs, Downstairs, Blank Stares.” Seriously, man, how much does the BBC pine for the days when the lower classes knew their place? Is that really an era to romanticize, even if they do call it The Romantic era? And who the hell could enjoy watching shows about the help being treated badly? As for me, if I watch even ten minutes of a show with berated butlers and yelled-at scullery maids, I start to get angry. Every time I see some mutton-chopped, inbred Lord of the Manor lining up his staff to lecture and threaten them for poorly-polished silver, or for becoming ‘too familiar’, or for having any normal human desires whatsoever, I have the normal human desire to make him ‘too familiar’ with my fist in his mutton-chop face. Just once, I’d like to see one of the servants he’s giving a good “dressing-down” to turn around and give this privileged twit a good old working-class “beating-down.” I’d like to see the First Footman, or the Second Footman, or some Footman put that foot right up his aristocratic ass.

I was trying to think up some funny-sounding British aristocratic names as examples of noble pomposity, but it turns out they have this new thing called “the google,” so I just looked up some real names instead. These are just a few of the actual descendants of William the Conqueror, who, being British, conquered everything but brushing and flossing:

Flora Paulyna Hetty Barbara Abney-Hastings. That sounds like somebody who never had to fill out their name on a lot of forms. Good luck fitting that on a job application. But of course, nobody with a name that long and dreadfully upper-class ever had to look for work. The longer your name, the easier your life. Hey, I just realized that. I might actually be onto something. Who do you think works harder - a person named Prince Stuart Johann Knud Bernhard Felix Maria René Joseph de Bourbon-Parma (real name), or a guy named Stu Parma? If you’re having trouble figuring that one out, the title Prince is a big clue. The only Prince who ever broke a sweat died last year in Minnesota, and judging by his opioid addiction, it was probably a cold sweat. Stu Parma sounds like an ex-Checker Cab driver from Queens, whereas Prince longname there sounds like an exchequer for the Queen. Big difference between those jobs, and probably all because of the length of their names. Great, just what men need, one more length to feel inadequate about. The only people who work harder than guys named Stu and Kip and Sam are guys with even shorter names like Bo and Al and Ed.

Same thing probably holds true for women, I bet Vikki works a longer shift for less pay than Victoria does. And I bet Kat does things for money that Katerina never would. I’m not thinking sex-worker, necessarily, but if she did it would be all her idea. No, I was picturing Kat doing something more along the lines of a cage-match fighter, or rodeo girl, or tattoo artist. She could set up her own new-school tattoo shop and call it “KATTOOS.” And she’s more likely to be a fun person to party with, too. Kat is a bad-ass who keeps it real, and Katerina will not go down on you even on your anniversary. The longer the name, the less fun and the more stuck up you are. Here’s another real name, and I bet she isn’t bringing any beer or weed to your party: Countess Antonia Charlotte Jeanette Marie af Holstein-Ledreborg. Wow, really? Can we just call you c*ntess for short?

And with the titles and peerage to boot, these names really start to get re-goddam-diculous. Check this guy out, this is a real title: His Royal Highness the Prince Charles Philip Arthur George, Prince of Wales, Earl of Chester, Duke of Cornwall, Duke of Rothesay, Earl of Carrick, Baron of Renfrew, Lord of the Isles, Prince and Great Steward of Scotland, Royal Knight Companion of the most noble order of the Garter, Royal Knight Companion of the most ancient and most noble order of the Thistle, Knight Grand Cross of the most honourable order of the Bath, member of the order of Merit, Knight of the order of Australia, companion of the Queen’s service order, member of Her Majesty’s Most Honourable Privy Councillors, Aide de Camp to Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth. WTF? That’s not a title, that’s the whole book! And the sequel! Keep in mind this is just a really fancy way of saying this guy is banging the Queen. This title is so long that when you start saying it you have 13 colonies in the Americas, and when you’re done saying it Cornwallis is surrendering at Yorktown.

But that’s the trouble with those british TV servants, they never fought back against the system like we did here in the colonies. That’s why their rigid class-structure hierarchy remained in place for so long, and they’re still sentimental for it in these godawful butler dramas. They never really had a lot of rebels in England, not for very long anyway, they either came here and started killing Indians, or they got arrested and shipped off to Australia to get eaten by sharks. Even today, British culture doesn’t celebrate the rebel like we do in America. The British never had a ‘Cool Hand Luke,’ more like ‘Keep Calm and Carry On Luke.’ The Brad Pitt ‘Fight Club’ character Tyler Durden sounds like it could be a proper English name, but if there was a ‘Fight Club’ in England, the first rule of Fight Club would be No Fighting.

And hey, did you ever hear Brad Pitt try to do a british accent? Yikes. He has all the range of a veal calf. He sounded worse than Bob Dylan trying to speak Chinese. But strangely, British actors have no problem at all doing American accents. Why is that? In fact, they have taken over a lot of our favorite tv and movie characters. On ‘The Walking Dead’, Rick Grimes, Maggie, Morgan, the Governor, and Jesus are all British. There are so many Brits on the show they should rename it ‘The Ambulatory Deceased’.

And the list includes some of our most beloved Superheroes. Henry Cavill, Christian Bale, Andrew Garfield are English, that’s Superman, Batman and Spider-Man. And even the new Spider-Man, Tom Holland is British. Both Jeremy Irons and Michael Caine were Alfred, which begs the question ‘What’s it all about, Alfred?’ (Ah, you’re too young to get that reference). Two actors have played Professor Xavier and they are both English, so are both actors who played Magneto. Fellow X-Men The Beast, Nightcrawler and Jean Grey, and Avengers Quicksilver and The Vision are British. So are the actors who played Doctor Strange, Daredevil, Commissioner Gordon, The Thing, Mister Fantastic, Odin, Ozymandias as well as super-villains Dr. Octopus, Sinestro, Killer Croc, Col. Stryker, Juggernaut, Toad, Azazel, The Lizard, and Loki. All English. Add to that Ryan Reynold’s Green Lantern is Canadian, while Eric Bana’s Hulk, Chris Hemsworth’s Thor and Hugh Jackman’s The Wolverine are Australian. An Australian Hulk? I understand they let Mel Gibson audition to play Hulk. But the Hulk is a rampaging rage monster who smashes everything in sight, and they felt Mel Gibson was just too angry for the role. Plus the Hulk isn’t anti-Semitic. I’m beginning to wonder if we have any American superheroes left, except for the Captain with America right in his name. If Donald Trump is going to bring back jobs to America, can he please start with our superheroes?

But I digress. I don’t remember what my point was, but I’m pretty sure I had one. Oh yeah, British servant shows. Why do women love these Victorian period pieces so much? They’re usually intelligent and independent women, too, yet these butler-laden bodice rippers get them steamier than an Icelandic orgy.

No, wait, I remember my point now: it’s not easy writing political comedy. Reason two, you get distracted. As I just demonstrated with the last ten paragraphs. I was saying the life of a political joke is short, and getting shorter. There was a time before the 24-hour news cycle when a political scandal stuck around for a long time. Watergate hung around for years and years, like an Irish houseguest. Comics in the 1970’s could take months to work out Watergate bits, and if they were solid, you could tell those jokes for half a decade. Fashions and music trends would change before your Watergate jokes got old. The first time you tell your Watergate joke on stage, you’re wearing bell-bottom jeans and a tie-dye T-shirt, and years later you’re telling it on stage wearing a white Disco suit. And it’s the same old joke about E. Howard Hunt, or H.R. Haldeman, or R.L. Stine, or George R.R. Martin, or whoever the hell was involved in the break-in. And actually, it kind of was a Game of Thrones, except instead of a dragon Queen who could walk through fire, you had G. Gordon Liddy who liked to hold a torch to his hand to show how tough he was. If you don’t know who he is, that’s okay, just picture Negan, but high on cocaine and patriotism.

People had better things to do in the 1970’s than obsess on scandals, and the only way to follow it was in newspapers and on the evening news. Which, if you were not home while the evening news was on, tough luck, there was no recording it. And 1970’s people were definitely out, and doing much cooler things than watching the evening news. Like driving around in a Pontiac Firebird and smoking a joint, or going to a Pink Floyd concert and smoking a joint, or throwing a key-party orgy and smoking a joint, or just smoking a joint and smoking a joint. You could do a lot of fun things in the 1970’s, as long as you had a joint. Those were the rules. Even if you got pulled over by the police, you better have a joint on you, the cops will ask you, “Licence..registration...proof of joint…”

So political scandals unfolded at a leisurely pace. Which is not to say people were not involved in politics, maybe it was the draft, or maybe it was the joint, but they were very involved. They were the only generation that ended an unpopular war through protest, and threw a corrupt President out of office. I think it was the weed, because after that, the police stopped making sure you had a joint.

But things are different in the Trump era. If you can call a presidency that only lasts until he quits this summer an “era”. More like the Trump “error”. Trump has a new scandal every day, every fourteen hours to be precise, so by the time you write a good joke, it’s over. It’s old news, and on to the next scandal. Tiny hands, Meryl Streep, grab ‘em by the pussy, Betsy DeVos, Michael Flynn, and now wiretap, the scandals are coming too fast. - That’s what she said! The jokes are obsolete by the time the pen leaves the paper, because by the time you read this, the whole wiretap scandal will be over and he’ll be on to the next inexcusable act. And that will only be like, two days from now.

I realize now that when I write about politics, I’m like one of those monks who make paintings out of different colored grains of sand. It takes them forever to do it, and the minute they’re done, they erase it. And they move on to the next one.

And I’ve never had more fun.