#directly into them and they could chomp

[kqutie]

EPIC : THE FAIR MAIDEN (not so platonic ver.)

CHAPTER FOUR : THE WASHED-UP STRANGER

relations. : platonic various epic characters/reader -- platonic odysseus/reader ; polites/reader ; platonic eurylochus/reader ; platonic elpenor/reader ; platonic perimedes/reader ; platonic odysseus' crew/reader ; hermes/reader ; poseidon/reader

chpt. sum. : The crew get acquainted with your villagers while you discover a stranger washed up on your sandy beaches. You know exactly what to do... poke, poke, poke!

tags. : reader continues being a disney princess ; female, mute reader ; pure comfort ; animal crossing new horizons game mechanics ; the villagers are here! ; the crew are simps ; poseidon makes an appearance ; poseidon is kinda slimey... ; hermes to the rescue, kinda? ; hermes is still a flirty menace ; protective crew ; very protective odysseus ; poseidon tried to shoot his shot and failed ; isekai and transmigration ; fix it fic ; characters know their future ; happy ending for everyone!

length. : 6.8k

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Marshal hops over, along with Filbert and Poppy, all three squirrels snuggling up to your form in an effort to express how much they missed you. Their affectionate words swirl into a cacophony of voices you hear directly in your mind. Were they communicating with you telepathically? 

“How did you all get here?” you ask without a voice, simply keeping the question in your head and experimenting with the communication. 

“We’ve always been here, silly. It’s our island home, after all,” Shino adds, coming up to your sitting form and nuzzling her nose into your hair. She looked majestic with her white fur, pink nose and red horns, you can still see the reddish colour brushing the edges of her eyes, highlighting her amber gaze. 

“But it’s strange,” Mitzi comments, licking at her paws adorably, “something feels different, somehow, especially after that flying man urged us into the storage shed. Is this really our same island?”

Hermes... you think, supposing they’ve been sent here through him. It makes you wonder if he’s also the reason you arrived. No, that can’t be. He didn’t know of you when you first met, so how could he possibly be responsible for bringing you into this world? Perhaps the appearance of your villagers was a part of his blessing. 

“All that matters is that we’re finally together again,” Filbert cuts in, snuggling further into you as the others join with hums of agreement. It makes you smile to see such familiar, sweet faces. You miss their adorable character designs, but it was fascinating to see them as normal animals, though they didn’t quite look the part. Their atypical colouring remained, so they look more like fantasy creatures to you. Perhaps that was fitting; you’ve grown quite the reputation amongst the crew so your villagers’ unusual appearance may lend to them believing that they are your close friends. 

“Cha-chomp! We missed you,” Fang snaps his jaws in an almost intimidating display, but you know he’s a sweetheart. Rather than shrink back in fear of his very sharp teeth, you smile and reach up to lovingly scratch at his ear. In his true form, Fang was a menacing size, but his beautiful grey coat looked so fluffy — you couldn’t help cooing at him and the way his ears flicked in delight from your scratches.

“It’s a relief to find you again,” Gaston comments, hopping up to your legs, where he brings a small furry hand up to pat your knee. He’s sweet for saying that but the obvious mustache the yellow rabbit retained was hilarious to you. He’s accompanied by Chrissy, however, who no longer adorns her pink and white polka dot head garment and leggings, leaving her looking like an ordinary white bunny. It was quite unusual, but you suppose they all look unusual without their clothing. 

“Don’t laugh! We thought we lost you!” Chrissy, huffs crossing her arms. 

“I’m sorry Chrissy, I missed you too,” Chrissy, ever the kind-hearted bunny, immediately unfolds her arms and smiles happily at you. You’ve already been forgiven; she’s never one to hold a grudge. 

“If you’re all here, does that mean—” You’re cut off by a hoot, and you look up to smile widely at a familiar-looking pair of owls perched along a tree branch. The owl siblings are accompanied by a pigeon whose feathers make it look as though he has a moustache and is wearing a suit. “Blathers! Celeste! Brewster!” The bushes shake below and out pops Tom Nook, accompanied by Timmy, Tommy, the Able sisters, and Isabelle. Timmy and Tommy looked adorably miniature, standing next to Tom, who stood high and greeted you with a friendly wave. Isabelle also waved at you, her tail contentedly swishing from side to side. “I can’t believe you’re all here,” 

“We’d follow you anywhere,” Isabelle comments, and you smile at each other. 

“So good to see you, my dear,” Blathers greets with an accompanying hoo. 

“Yes yes,” Tom Nook agrees but scratches at his head almost nervously, “but what’s happened to the island?”

Giving him an apologetic look, you try your best to explain, “I’m sorry Tom, I know it looks quite different, but I assure you that everything’s okay. It’s well taken care of, we actually have an amazing amount of visitors settled here currently.”

“Oh?” Tom and Isabelle share a proud look. “That’s brilliant! Business is booming!” You giggle at his words and nod along, happy to have settled him down. 

“Have you seen the stars? They’re so beautiful tonight!” Celeste comments and you look up in anticipation for any shooting stars but there are none. There was an unusually still, opaque cloud hovering above you, however. Peculiar…

“I suppose they do look extra bright tonight.” Looking around, you smile at the sight of everyone and slowly stand with your squirrel friends still tucked up in your arms. “How about we have a sleepover at my place?” you suggest, earning a cheer from everyone. 

“Hoo-Hoo! That would be lovely!” Blathers comments, a dreading look overcoming him for a moment, “I do so hate the outdoors but can’t find my museum anywhere!” 

“Mi casa es tu casa,” you invite them all inside as Marshal shivers in excitement before pulling a smug look. 

“I see you’ve picked up some of my speech habits. Of course you would. I’m quite the influencer. And you’re too kind, Sulky, thank you.” Marshal instantly recognised the phrase you used and wiggled in happiness from his positive impact. 

⊹ ࣪﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

The next morning, you make your way to the crew with breakfast already prepared and stored from your home kitchen. All animals trail along behind you, eager to meet the new friends you told them of the night before and this morning: all 600 men of Odysseus’ fleet. It might be overwhelming for them at first, but you know that their sweet disposition will make them fast friends with the crew. Hopefully, the men wouldn’t be too put off by your villagers’ odd colours. The only normal-looking villagers you have are Fauna, Chrissy, Fang and the Nook family. 

“Fair Maiden!” came a shout, and you turn to gasp at the image of Odysseus aiming his bow and arrow at Fang (a large, grey wolf) while Eurylochus points his large sword at Boots (your gym-bro alligator). Rushing forward, you open your arms out in defence, shielding your harmless villagers from harm. If you could shout in protest, you would, but all you could manage is a frightful look that immediately makes the two lower their guard ever so slightly. 

“Wh-wha—?” Odysseus voices, unable to comprehend what’s happening, but Polites rushes to your side, opening his arms beside you. He knows exactly what you’re trying to convey.

“Captain! The Fair Maiden doesn’t want these animals harmed!” Polites’ voice is loud and firm, an immediate assurance to you that he was on your side, no questions asked, “Please lower your weapons!”

“But—!” Eurylochus tries to protest, knowing the potential danger that you could be in. Seeing the conflict in the sword-wielding man’s eyes, you shake your head insistently and gesture to your villagers and yourself before pointing between you and Polites. Everyone then watches as you end your non-verbal statement by tucking yourself into Polites’ chest, who wordlessly wraps his arms around you, his resolve solidified. It’s easy to understand what you want to express. 

“See? She’s trying to say that these animals are her friends. Please do not harm them.” Polites voices for you, bringing a smile to your face. You kiss his jaw and hug him tightly to show your gratitude. Polites’ cheeks bloom with a radiant blush but he doesn’t draw attention to it, not even when Odysseus and Eurylochus give him a teasing smirk. The two finally lower their weapons and apologise with a bow of their heads. 

“We apologise sincerely for over-reacting and causing you distress, Fair Maiden. We won’t bring harm to your animal friends, I assure you,” Odysseus looks at you, his eyes flooded with resolve to keep his word. 

“A-are you sure they’re friendly? They don’t seem it at all,” Poppy squeaks and hops over to your leg, hugging your ankle in her short height as her sweet face presses into the folds of your skirt. She’s joined by Filbert, who hugs your opposite ankle with a tearful whimper on his lips.

“S-so scary...”

“How unusual,” Odysseus observes, taking in Poppy and Filbert’s unusually coloured fur. He quickly moves on to observe the strange appearance of the other animals that have followed you as well. Some looked normal, some looked magical, and then there was a yellow bunny who looked like he had a very thick moustache, and Odysseus had to stifle his laughter.

“They are not like any other creatures I’ve seen before…” Eurylochus adds as the rest of the crew strain their necks to get a look, all of them humming in agreement as soon as they realise how different the animals appear. They coo over your squirrel villagers, Chrissy, Mitzi and Fauna, for their sweet appearance. They gasp in wonder at Shino’s divine being. They shudder at Fang and Boots’ intimidating presence. And many had to stifle their laughter when seeing Gaston’s prominent moustache as well. 

“No wonder you protect and care for them,” Polites comments, looking down at you with a kind smile. “Are they also as otherworldly as you?” his words make you look away bashfully, earning a laugh from the headband-wearing third commander. At least he managed to get you back for flustering him only moments earlier. That soft kiss isn’t escaping his mind any time soon. 

“We’ll make sure your animal friends don’t come to any harm,” Eurylochus assures, setting out to warn the back of the crew himself after you introduce him and the first few rows of the Odysseus’ men to your villagers and the other occupants of the island: Blathers and Celeste snoozing away in a nearby tree while Brewster keeps a close eye on them; the able sister nestled together adorably in the bushes; Tom Nook travelling together with Timmy and Tommy, who’ve climbed onto his back. To surmise, all animals that aren’t fish or bugs are under your protection.

After that frightful first impression, you’re happy to find the crew getting along with your villagers and vice versa. Your animal friends are truly so friendly; it’s in their nature to be kind, so it took no time at all for them to find new friends in the crew. It was a fun sight to see. The villagers still tended to gravitate towards you, however. And it took a while for the crew to get used to seeing such animals keeping you company, usually finding them trailing close behind you, the squirrels often hopping about your feet as you walked by. 

At times, it was heartwarming to see you interact with the cute animals. A beautiful lady, smiling, cooing and petting the sweet furry creatures was an image that had soul-healing properties. It made you feel all the more magical to them, floating about the island with a sweet deer following after you with adorable squirrels and bunnies close behind. However, it was more than unnerving to witness you being accompanied by a large grey wolf, a snapping alligator and an albino deer with pointed, red horns, an uncustomary appearance for such a graceful species. This was an initial fear you treated by showcasing how friendly and sweet Fang, Boots and Shino actually were. 

Waving Perimedes over, you smile brightly as he brings Elpenor with him. The two were truly inseparable.”Y-yes, Fair Maiden?” Perimedes asks nervously, eyeing Fang and Boots, who flanked your sides and quite politely so. Though that didn’t matter to Perimedes or Elpenor; all they saw were teeth, teeth and more teeth!   

“That one looks like he goes to the gym!” Boots praises Elpenor as he happily gazes at the man’s broad frame. Unfortunately, Elpenor wasn’t aware that the alligator’s interested gaze was one of admiration and not of hunger, and he tenses up in fear.

“You want us to make friends with them?” Fang asks, holding back his excitement as his tail begins to swish behind him in happiness. “Cha-chomp!” Fang snaps his jaws gleefully, unaware of his effect on the fearful, slightly shaking Perimedes, “Any friend of yours is a friend of ours!” 

Taking Perimedes’ hand with the utmost care, you slowly bring his sweaty palm and shaking fingers to Fang’s soft fur. Fang’s delighted response is instantaneous. The large wolf leans into Perimedes’ touch and urges him to continue petting and scratching his ear with a tilt of his head. 

“Oh...” Perimedes releases the breath he was holding and laughs in relief, eagerly scratching at Fang’s ear. The smile that grows on the blonde’s face is contagious.  

“That’s a good scratch. Mmm~ A little to the left please...” Fang snaps his jaws happily, leaning further into Perimedes’ hand, who quickly grows accustomed to Fang’s habit of chomping his jaws to express his happiness. 

“Good boy,” Perimedes whispers, his gaze softening with fondness. He’s made a new friend.

One down, one to go. You look at Elpenor, who seems to be having a staring contest with Boots. Behind him, Boots’ tail swishes from side to side, and you smile at his eagerness to make a new friend, too. Gently, you also take Elpenor’s hand and softly coax him into petting Boot’s head. The look you give Elpenor says everything he needs to know to follow your lead with confidence and trust in your actions. ’Everything will be okay,’ your eyes say to him. 

“I-If you think it’s safe, Fair Maiden...” Elpenor nods and allows himself to be guided into petting Boots, who eagerly leans into his touch. 

“His hands are calloused and strong!” Boots observes with a toothy smile, “That is evidence of his prowess in the gym! I think we’ll make good friends!”  

“It seems everyone has a favourite!” Odysseus laughs, walking up to you as he’s accompanied by both Fauna and Shino. He looks at them fondly, “Curious how an archer has become good friends with deers of all creatures.” Fauna nudges his hand with her nose, urging him to pet her as Shino playfully butts her horns against his forearm. Odysseus complies by rubbing at the base of her horns and succumbing to Fauna’s gently prompt for pets, “It seems I’ve found their weak spot.” You smile at the easy expression that takes over Odysseus’ countenance. In the days that pass, you find that the crew have grown an eagerness for petting your villagers, who make no complaints; they love the attention and the company of new friends. The crew smile more easily and laugh much lighter than ever before. You liken it to the effect therapy animals have on veterans. 

The hardened men can often be found taking care of and spending time with your villagers in various ways. It’s also clear that many have their personal favourites, as the captain had helpfully observed for you. 

Odysseus is often followed around by Fauna and Shino. Fauna, your sweet and graceful deer with her gentle disposition, reminds him of the elegance his wife, Penelope, often holds herself with. Shino, however, makes him think of his son; she’s more playful and adventurous compared to Fauna, much like his boy, Telemachus. Their presence is familiar, but also not. Nevertheless, they gave Odysseus some much-needed comfort and vice versa. Fauna and Shino adore being treated with such care and especially love the stories he tells them absentmindedly, his guard lowered by their presence. 

Eurylochus, you’re surprised to see, has become good friends with your trio of squirrel villagers. All three have expressed to you how much they enjoy resting on his shoulders and even his head as he walks around. His height makes them feel tall and powerful! Marshal likens it to being perched on a walking tree. Poppy simply loves curling up in his large hand. She tells you it makes for the perfect bed to rest comfortably in. It also helps that Eurylochus often feeds them a share of his fruit rations. Filbert loves it especially; he’s a great lover of food. The tall, intimidating second commander can be seen resting against a tree as the three squirrels play about his gently smiling form. He looks at peace, fondly watching as they play around and on him — he’s become their personal playground. 

“You feed them too much, friend,” Polites laughs while passing by with Mitzi in his arms. “I’m afraid that blue one will become too chubby.” It seems everyone’s picked up on Filbert’s food-loving tendencies. 

“But don’t you think they look especially cute with their chubby cheeks chewing away at the fruit? It feels even more satisfying when I feed them by hand,” Eurylochus points out, and the two admire the way the three small squirrels eagerly stuff their faces with slices of apples Eurylochus hands them, making their cheeks puff up adorably.

“I suppose you’re right.” Polites grins and sits beside Eurylochus with Mitzi in his lap. 

“I see you’re a cat person,” Eurylochus smirks at his friend.

“I’ve always been a cat person,” the two share a laugh. 

Mitzi and Polites have a very calming friendship. The two often fall asleep together wherever they may be. It all starts when Mitzi sits herself in Polites’ lap, and the kind third commander can’t help but coo and pet her adoringly. When enough time passes, Mitzi can be found gently purring in his lap as Polites lightly snores over her, the two of them finding the best rest in each other’s company. 

Elpenor has grown a bond with Boots, thanks to your introductions. Boots had even helped him prank other crew members by patiently lurking in the bath waters and jumping out with a snap of his powerful jaws when a group of crew members came in to take their baths. Elpenor was chased around by those few traumatised men, but he found the prank worth the trouble. He laughed the entire time he was chased about. Perimedes was commonly seen with Fang, the two having immediately bonded thanks to you. They enjoyed each other’s company no matter what they may be doing together, whether it’s fishing, sitting around, sleeping under the sun or eating, they’ve become the best of friends. Together, the four of them have become quite the fearsome quartet.    

⊹ ࣪﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

“Look! What’s that?!” a crew member shouts, and you look to see them pointing up at something in the sky. “It’s a bird!”

“No, it’s a floating red thing carrying a white box!” The helpful description provided by Lycaon makes you pull out your slingshot and take aim. You fire at the balloon three times, but it’s no use, and you watch as the balloon floats further away. With a huff, you shake your head miserably. Why were shooting balloons always so difficult for you? It’s even more difficult now that you’re having to shoot it down in real life. Before the balloon could get too far away, however, an arrow helpfully shoots it down for you. The shooter was Odysseus, who slings his bow over his head and wears it while bringing the gift box over to you. Smiling gratefully, you open the gift before handing him its contents.

“For me?” Odysseus asks, surprised, as he points to himself. You nod, and rather than urge the gift into his hands, you place the purple hyacinth crown onto his head instead. It matches his purple toga. Odysseus laughs and affectionately pats your head as Fauna and Shino prance about around you in celebration. “Thank you.” He silently vows take special care of your gift. He hopes it never wilts.

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

You’ve already made the dresses and more for Penelope and Ctimene following Odysseus and Eurylochus’ request, and now you were collecting pretty shells for a little something extra. It would be nice for Odysseus and Eurylochus to craft something personally for their wives too, something pretty to gift them when they arrive home again. It’s not an official recipe you know from ACNH, but it’s a simple craft. An unfussy but heartfelt accessory showcasing the pretty seashell collected from your island’s shores, lovingly prepared for their beautiful wives to wear. How romantic would that be?~ You want to help Ody and Eury be good husbands,so today, you’re trying to find the prettiest seashells for them to craft into necklaces or bracelets. 

“My Fair Maiden,” Polites calls, approaching you on the beach with a kind smile, the ends of his headband swimming in the sea breeze. “What are you up to out here?” he looks at the small collection of sea shells you’ve managed to collect so far, your hands carefully cradling the precious beach decorations. “Those are very beautiful.” he admires your selection, leaning forward ever so slightly as he adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose. When he straightens again, Polites softens his voice as he looks at you with a fond stare. “May I join you? I’ll help as best as I can.” Unable to say no, you nod your head instantly. It would be nice to have company, anyway, and Polites was always good company. For a while, you two collect sea shells together with only the waves. There were a lot of shells available, but you were very selective about which ones you kept. Playing ACNH on your switch made the seashells look identical to one another, but now that you were looking at them personally and not in a game, each one was distinct and unique in its own way. Yes, there were similarly shaped ones, but looking closely, they were all very different. It was fascinating, and the adoration was visible on your face. 

That admiring visage of you as you stare down at the shells was something that Polites couldn’t help but admire. You’re too precious. How could he not feel for you? He loves it, especially when you find a particularly beautiful shell and run to share your discovery with him. You’re the good in the world that makes life worthwhile. Once again, the two of you split up to look for more shells separately. Polites looks into the distance when a glimmer catches his eye and moves to collect the shimmering glass bottle buried in the sand. There was a trinket inside that looked like something you would know what to do with better than him, so he kept the bottle closed and immediately returned to you. 

“I don’t have a shell but...” Polites offers the glass bottle sheepishly, not knowing what to expect from your reaction. With a silent gasp, you store away your collected, approved shells and clap in glee, happily receiving the bottle from Polites before hugging him as thanks. Polites laughs and hugs you back, his strong arms wrapping around you tightly as he buries his nose into your hair, where he affectionately presses a kiss into your crown. With you around, the harrowing memories and scars he acquired in the war are pushed far behind him. You bring a rare and precious peaceful quietness. And Polites can confidently say you have the same effect for Odysseus, Eurylochus and the crew too. You’re truly a blessing.

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

Poseidon has felt a strange disturbance in his ocean for quite some time now. It wasn’t threatening nor dangerous, so he didn’t initially feel the need to investigate. However, the disruption to his waters has remained such a prominent irritation to the point that he could no longer resist ignoring it. He sets off to investigate the peculiarity in the early morning, hoping to finish his search as soon as possible. 

When he approaches, Poseidon raises a brow. He doesn’t remember such a large island being located in this part of his ocean. It’s not even one he recognises; he’s never seen such greenery or landscapes. Suddenly, there’s movement behind the trees lining the perimeter of the island, beyond the shady beaches, and the sea god ducks into the ocean. Perhaps glimpsing a creature that occupies the island will give him some idea of its mysterious origins. 

Stepping out of the tree line, you move to the sands to continue your sea shell search for Odysseus and Eurylochus just before you meet the crew for breakfast, blissfully unaware of the fascinated stare pinning you down from the God of the sea. As Poseidon stays hidden amongst the waves, he smirks to himself, his eyes tracing your delicious curves, sweetly dressed in the loveliest dress he’s ever seen. He appreciates your silhouette thoroughly until his gaze finally lands on your beautiful face. What a beauty you are. Such a fine treasure he’s found within his ocean. He should have investigated the mysterious island sooner. You appear so sweet and kind too, delicately picking up different seashells, appearing very selective of which ones you should keep for your precious hoard. 

The new island no longer annoys him for disrupting his oceans; rather, Poseidon has found something else to be intrigued by. And he’s determined to make you his. 

You don’t know how much time you spend picking seashells, but when you look up, all thoughts of your mounting sea shell collection are forgotten. On the shore was a washed-up man in nothing but a simple cloth wrapped around his waist. His brown hair is long and wet from the salty ocean water, his skin a healthy sun-kissed colour, and his muscles prominently sculpted. From what little glimpses you see of his face hidden behind the strands of hair that fall over his features, you can tell that he’s handsome with a light shadow of stubble shaping his jaw. As you approach him, unaware of his intentions and very conscious state, Poseidon wills his features to stay undisturbed. A fair maiden such as yourself will surely wake him gently and with a sweet voice; when he pretends to finally rouse from sleep, he’ll work his charms to lure you into a passionate night together. He will enjoy you thoroughly and savour your sweet sounds, for an angel like you is capable of creating nothing but dulcet tones. 

Poseidon has gravely misjudged you, however. As soon as you were kneeling beside him, rather than gently seduce him out of his slumber and kindly ask about his wellbeing in the soft voice he imagined you to have, you begin to incessantly poking at his cheek instead. It was completely unexpected, and he couldn’t help the annoying twitch of his brow. The subtle action makes you temporarily stop your ceaseless prodding. But before Poseidon could breathe in respite, you start poking him again, this time, with much more force and speed. If he wasn’t a god, he’s sure you’d have made the skin of his cheek bruise already. Is this really how you go about waking an injured man?! It’s not at all what Poseidon expected, ignorant to your experience with washed-up seagull pirates. The only way you knew to wake Gulliver (the seagull pirate) or Gullivarrr (the seagull pirate captain) was to constantly pester them, which obviously meant poking their unconscious forms until they wake up. 

“I’m awake! I’m awake!” Poseidon sits up with an irritated grumble, swatting at your hand and squinting his eyes at you. He’s sorely misjudged you. Perhaps he should leave?

(Distantly, a giggle can be heard, and your ears perk up ever so slightly.)

However, Poseidon is struck once again by your beauty. Up close, you’re stunning, especially when you’re smiling so kindly at him and him alone. Because of your bewitching image, Poseidon was willing to forget about your rude, unending poking. 

“What a beauty you are...” the handsome stranger’s brown eyes examine your face, slowly tracing your features with his eyes as he slowly brings a hand up to cup your cheek. His touch was so unexpected that you startle ever so slightly. The stranger appears to take pleasure in your surprise however, chuckling to himself as his hand leaves your cheek to pick up your hand and bring your knuckles to his lips, “Tell me,” his lips don’t leave your skin as he looks up to meet your eyes with an impassioned stare, “what is your name, my lady?”

Smiling apologetically, you shake your head and point to your throat. “Oh? You cannot speak?”Poseidon frowns as you confirm his supposition with a nod. He was so looking forward to hearing your voice and relishing in the beautiful melody you would sing for him under his touch.

“No matter.” Poseidon eventually accepts the fact and leans forward, inching his face close to yours as you lean back slightly. “I remain grateful to you for saving my life.” the stranger’s eyes briefly glances down at your prettily shaped lips, “Allow me to convey my gratitude,” your eyes widen as the bold stranger closes the gap between you, managing to brush his lips against your own before you’re swept up by a pair of strong arms that fly you into the air. Gasping silently, you wrap your arms over your captor’s shoulders and push your face into his neck, fearful of the height he’s flown you to. 

“I should have known you were nothing but trouble~” A familiar voice teases as a pair of lips press a kiss against your temple. Hermes! Pulling away, you gape at the Messenger god who smugly grins at you. His arms carry you like a princess, ensuring that your dress doesn’t fall and reveal more of yourself to the men below. “Not only have you entrapped me, but you’ve captured the attention of my Uncle as well.” his words make your brows fly up in surprise before you hurriedly look down and gasp once more at the scene happening below. His uncle?! Did he mean...? 

Odysseus is pissed. You had taken longer than usual to meet everyone for breakfast, and they had grown anxious about your whereabouts. Initially, your safety wasn’t much of a concern as they knew your island to be incredibly safe; however, those foolish thoughts were immediately swept away as soon as they found you at the beach with a stranger, who was getting far too close for comfort. 

“Allow me to convey my gratitude.” At those exact words, Odysseus had fired his arrow, narrowly missing the strange man’s feet. It was a warning shot. Odysseus wasn’t one to miss his target, especially not one that is so unsuspecting and easy, but he would endanger you if he aimed straight at the man — you were far too close to him, and Odysseus didn’t want to risk you getting injured too. 

“Captain!” Polites points him towards your form up in the air and in the arms of another familiar god, “The Fair Maiden is safe,” his third commander hands him another arrow, “You’re free to take a second shot.” Polites’ voice grows chilly, deprived of his characteristically warm friendliness. He generally wasn’t the type to encourage such mercilessness, rather, he would have encouraged everyone to hear out the stranger. But Odysseus won’t complain; he knows the level of affection Polites and the rest of his crew had fostered for you — of course, this level of protectiveness was to be expected. 

“Aim for his throat,” Eurylochus strategised, his tone stern and calculating as he readies his sword, “While he chokes on his blood, I’ll move in to severe his head clean off his shoulders.” Odysseus didn’t appreciate being ordered around most of the time, but he didn’t mind it for right now. At least you were safe for the moment. He’ll deal with Hermes later. 

“Wait! Wait!” Odysseus freezes in place, along with everyone else who recognises the plea from the musical quite some time ago but still remember it so vividly. The same musical that had revealed their potential future had made it easy to recognise such a voice. It couldn’t be…

The stranger’s very human features slowly melt away to reveal the God of the sea. The man’s brown hair becomes an opaque black as the skin of his neck grows gills and his ears become fin-shaped. The cloth around his waist falls away to reveal the beginnings of a fishtail. Looking down, his tail can be seen seamlessly merging with the ocean waves lapping at the sandy beach, which pulls him into the ocean and stands him tall, held up by the sea below. 

“Poseidon...” Eurylochus acknowledges as everyone takes on a battle stance behind him, their faces weary but determined. 

“You made an oath not to interfere with my journey home!” Odysseus snaps at the sea god. His words making Poseidon grit his teeth in annoyance. 

“I know...”

“Why aren’t you keeping it?”

“I am keeping it! You have had easy oceans so far, and when you set out to sea again for the rest of your journey home, they will be safe also. The girl is different; she has no association with you—” The look Odysseus sends him makes the god stammer ever so slightly. You are associated with Odysseus. What a mistake this was.

“If you touch her, you will be interfering with our journey home. She is our Fair Maiden and has been a wondrous blessing on our voyage so far! Touch her, and you’ll be breaking your oath!”

Poseidon looks up to see you in the arms of his nephew, whose usually smiling countenance disappears as soon as they meet eyes. You are a precious being not only to the man who tormented him in a potential future but are also held dearly by his nephew. This doesn’t spell well. You appeared to be such an innocent lady; how did things turn out to be like this?  

“She’s off limits, uncle.” Hermes states firmly, his arms tightening their hold on you, “And she has my blessing. I’m sure you know what that means...” Even Hermes’ words make Odysseus and the crew’s eyes widen in shock. Just as surprised as Poseidon. When did Hermes bless you? Had you been associated with the Messenger god this whole time?

“Fine!” Poseidon concedes, his reluctant acceptance punctuated by the momentary violent action of the ocean waves below, “I will leave you be.” As he disappears into the sea, Poseidon gives you one last, longing glance. Yet again, he was at a loss. How disappointing…

As soon as Poseidon vanishes into the ocean’s depths, you look to Hermes with a smile, a small thank you for his help. “You’re very welcome, darling~” he coos but appears reluctant to let you go. It isn’t until Odysseus and the crew have fixed their eyes on you that he finally descends. “My my~ what a surprising turn of events.” Hermes brings a light-hearted air with him, doing his best to distract the crew so he can keep you in his arms for longer. He quite likes the feel of you tucked up against his chest and solely held up by his strength as your arms wrap around his neck. You look very adorable this close to him, your head easily tucked up under his chin. 

“Thank you, Hermes,” Odysseus smiles gratefully to the god. He was one of the only gods to be of help to him in the musical, and it appears he’s sustaining that reputation. It only irks the King of Ithaca that Hermes seems to have made contact with you already, without him or anyone else knowing, and given you his blessing.

“Don’t thank me, friend~” Hermes turns his full attention to you, gently setting you down, “I didn’t do it for you particularly...”

‘Thank you for your help, Hermes,’ you voice in your head, knowing the god can hear your words clearly. 

“Of course, my fair lady~” Levitating several inches above the ground, Hermes bows graciously at the waist for you, smiling an easy smile. “But don’t you suppose that I should be rewarded for my efforts?” he teases, offering his cheek for you to kiss. That was his reward. His actions make Odysseus splutter in disbelief as several crew members, Polites and Eurylochus especially, do their best to keep their protests behind clenched teeth, silently begging you not to yield to the god. 

As you give him a skeptical look, Hermes laughs. He planned to shrug it off, knowing that he wouldn’t have received anything from you. He even made the effort not to ask you for a kiss outright, knowing the disadvantage mortals have against a god’s will. Hermes only meant to get a rise out of the crowding audience, his devious nature wouldn’t permit him to leave otherwise. However, he was surprised when, rather than wave his silly request away, you place your hands on his shoulders, stabilising yourself first before closing your eyes and gently puckering your lips, aiming for his offered cheek — a cheek kiss was innocent enough. 

What a pleasant surprise~ Hermes grins deviously.

Taking the opportunity, Hermes wraps his hands around your waist and pulls you impossibly close—to the point where you can feel his toned muscles far too sensitively. Once securely in his arms, he tilts his head to meet your lips with his own, shooting the two of you up into the air as he does so. He likes an audience, but he’s sure you wouldn’t be the biggest fan. Nor will you be happy if he lingers above the crew such that they could look up your dress skirt so he pulls you with him to perch atop one of your lush trees, far from the crew. Your surprised gasp gives him the perfect opportunity to steal more of your breath away. His tongue swoops in and pulls yours into a heated dance as his hand trails up to press against the back of your head and deepen your embrace. Unable to resist, you fall deeply into the kiss, reciprocating with your heart racing in your chest as heat crawls up your neck to settle over your cheeks. How is he such a good kisser? His lips, his arms and hands confine you to him, making the rest of the world disappear — you’ve barely registered that you’re no longer on the beach but rather cradled in the branches of a tree with him. 

Odysseus and the crew were too shocked to react as they were left behind. The last image of you that they saw were your lips connecting with Hermes’s own. Their nerves had been frozen up from being in the presence of two gods and at such close proximity, but those same nerves were quickly thawed by the heat of their rage. Immediately, they go searching for you, not needing to look for long as they see you lying against Hermes in the branches of a tree not too far into the island. 

“My my~” Hermes pants after pulling away, smirking at your breathlessness and unwilling to let you go. The mischievous nature in him spots the infuriated crew in his periphery and immediately decides to play with them. Levitating the two of you once more, he dangles you before the crew tauntingly before slowly descending, your feet finally touching solid ground again, but his arms remain secure around you. The crew doesn’t dare jump forth and bring you to safety, no matter how much they want to, especially when Hermes dares to giggle at them. Spurred on by the fury on their faces, Hermes dips you down and nuzzles his nose into the base of your neck, his eyes pinning the crew down sharply while his lips tenderly kiss the soft skin of your upper chest area, “you taste divine, darling~ So sweet. Just like the first time...”

Odysseus choked on air as his eyes bulged out. “THE FIRST TIME?!”

Hermes laughs and lifts into the air slightly, bringing you with him and making you twirl with your arm raised and your feet lifted several inches off the ground. He pulls you back in again, just as tightly as before, emphasising his affection for you. “This certainly won’t be the last time, either.” he looks into your rounded, glittering eyes, cooing in adoration at your precious image. Everything was happening so fast that you could barely comprehend it all, your mind still stuck on processing the kiss you shared with the mischievous god. “You’re truly far too tempting for your own good. I’m but a hungry, helpless beast at your service, my lady.” Hermes finally (finally!) sets you down and bows, bringing your hand up to kiss your knuckles before finally biding his farewells for the time being. 

When you finally turn around, Odysseus had come dangerously close, his eyes wild with barely restrained rage and stern protectiveness. “You have some explaining to do, young lady.”

But…But I can’t talk! You wail internally, pulling a helpless expression, but Odysseus is undeterred. Hermes… you jerk! 

navi. | series m.list

next | five. the journey home →

a/n : once again, I couldn't stop writing until I finished, even if it means sleeping at 3am -- but I'm just as addicted as anyone else to this series so... here you darlings go... i'm going to bed now!

For those of you who need/want the reminder, these are my villagers: Fauna ; Shino ; Poppy ; Filbert ; Marshal ; Chrissy ; Fang ; Boots ; Gaston ; Mitzi

taglist : @bluepanda08 @doodle-with-rhy @sunshinedaisy21 @jolixtreesunn @ellaprime7 @marcelemry @nishayuro @hijinkxy @kerosene-demon @windrosesrasta @keikeiluvyou @darling-eos @iamapotatoe @yuzxi18 @woncloudie

[omegaseverywhere]

Omega!Soap who frothes at the mouth when he meets you for the first time. Your scent engulfs him despite the stupid amount of suppressants and blockers the military forces everyone to take and a dribble of slick runs down his leg. Omega!Soap who starts reading parenting books and making baby name lists and arranging his finances because he knows he's going to be your Omega. You are going to be his Alpha. You are going to have a litter of tiny Scottish babies with your eyes. Omega!Soap who volunteers to spar with you every time you want to work on some hand-to-hand only so he can feel your body against his.

Omega!Soap who insists you call him Johnny, which tells the rest of the taskforce how Soap feels. Omega!Soap who works his hardest whenever he knows you are watching. Training. Going over mission specs. Creating and deactivating different bombs. Taking down targets on the field. If he knows you are watching, he locks the fuck in. (And when he's done, he turns to you for approval, blue eyes glittering, mouth pulled wide in a lovely grin)

Omega!Soap who could drown in the sound of your laugh and does everything he can to get that reaction. He basks in the light of your eyes as you smile at whatever quip came out of his mouth. Omega!Soap who actually listens to medical when he gets hurt as long as you are in the room to repeat their instructions. He will listen to you. Will not listen to them. (Price sometimes has you relay his orders to Soap as a precaution before risky missions. Soap listens to Price but he listens to you.) Omega!Soap who has separation anxiety and whines horrifically and consistently when you are sent on a mission without him. He knows you aren't together - yet, his inner Omega huffs - but he is chomping at the bit the entire time you are gone.

Omega!Soap who plans his leave to be the same time as yours and drops hints that you should visit Scotland with him. Its beautiful this time of year (and he wants to show his family the Alpha he's been telling her about).

Omega!Soap who circles you as he nears his heat, hoping you'll chase him down. Hoping you'll follow him directly into his nest and slip between his spread thighs. He snarls at other Alphas who think they have a chance, making a big show of it so you know that he would never accept another in his bed.

Omega!Soap who circles you as you near your rut, hoping you'll use him to satisfy your urges. He bears his throat and stares at you through long dark lashes. He snarls at other Omegas who think they have a chance, making a big show of it so you know that he will fight for you if need be. Omega!Soap who has medical remove his IUD and switches to the pill...and never takes it when you both aren't on a mission. He has a couple morning-after-pills for worst case scenario situations but he is not about to let an IUD stop him from getting knocked up on the random chance you wake up and decide your life's goal is to make an honest Omega out of him. Omega!Soap whose instincts turn dark and dangerous when you are taken hostage. Who makes such quick work of the hostile enemies that everyone is dead before anyone catches wind that anyone has died. Who snarls, blood in his maw and in his claws, as he brings you to safetly. Who only calms when he can rest alongside you, his head on your chest so he can monitor your heartbeat.

Omega!Soap who cries - from euphoria and relief - the first time you knot him. The cries turning into sobs when you sink your teeth in his neck. Who sniffles along your neck before biting you back.

[inbabylontheywept]

Re: Your fucked up lettuce era. Have you heard of trash salads? There’s a guy on Tiktok who makes them. It’s just a head of lettuce that you pour stuff on and then chomp into.

i feel like at least smokers understand why they see ads. its kind of fucked to ask someone to poison themselves, but if you read the fine print of *slowly, to make me rich* you can at least get a sense of why it's happening. that's a common enough request from the world: pretty please, destroy yourself, so i can buy you at a discount?

(the crazy thing is really how often it works.)

but you. why. how does this benefit you. i dont need help eating more and worse salads. you saw the final shape of my body, broken by lettuce, and you went: hey. you realize you could poor the ranch directly onto the romaine, right? no plate? like a corndog? you know you could just eat croutons straight from the bag? you see that apple on a tree? the one that god said not to eat? you see how red it is? you see?

i see. i dont know what your game is. but i see. i squint into the shadows and i try to imagine the purpose of this, but as per normal, i cannot tell. i cannot tell for what purpose this world was made. the demiurge eludes me again. but i can eat lettuce. so i will.

[koolades-world]

Can you please do headcanons of an MC whose love language is random biting

Like MC and their chosen lover could be cuddling or watching a movie and randomly in MC’s mind they’ll just go “their arm lookin’ real bitable rn” and softly bites them

Can you do everyone please 🙏🙏🙏

hi!!!!! haha of course

enjoy <3

Mc whose love language is biting

Lucifer

it's a jumpscare for him at first

he's always on some elevated level of alertness, and he wasn't expecting it at all

but after he realizes it's just you, he's happy to let you continue

he's a little confused but he's happy if you're happy

Mammon

another brother that's scared the first time

you two were watching a horror movie, so he was already on edge

you already know how that ended haha

but, he really enjoys your little bites, and brags about it a lot to his demon friends who don't know a lot about humans

Levi

he's familiar with the concept because he's chronically online

he turns into a blushing mess every time you do

but don't stop

(he really likes it, but he'd never tell you that directly, but he might indirectly)

Satan

since he was midway through his sentence while reading, he has a moment of buffering

he had to finish reading, mark where he was, then assess the situation

he'll ask several questions about why and what it means

but once he learns that it's because you love him, he won't even stop or question you again <3

Asmo

he just has to ask you: is he tasty haha

of course he is, you don't even need to answer

he thinks you're very cute

as long as you don't do any serious chomps that might do damage, he encourages your adorable expression of your love

Beel

will ask if he can nom you back

he understands you!!

this will become a regular thing

he loves the mischievous face you always make before you decide to bite

Belphie

he doesn't even notice at first

he's half asleep so he only realizes when you make it more obvious

if it makes you happy he won't stop you

just don't wake him up from his nap haha

[devochive]

jax teasing reader under the table while everyone else is ‘eating’ their digital dinner.. and reader getting revenge on jax later…

please and thank you <33🙏

i love your username 😆 , this was on the shorter side but i hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

The Banquet.

Jax/Fem!Reader

tags: fingering, public sex, biting.

minors dni.

"Y/N.. a-are you alright..?"  Gangle who sat directly next to you at the long dinner table seemed worried, their sad mask making that painfully obvious. You squirmed a little, nodding your head and clearing your throat. "O.. Of course, Gangle why do you.. ask!" your voice hitched and broke at the end of your sentence. You were clearly far from okay.

Gangle felt guilty for asking, maybe you were just nervous..? She sure was on her first few dinners, "Right.. sorry, y/n.." You shook your head, elbow resting on the table. No digging into the table as you tried to find some sense of balance. "It's,  f.. fine gangle..!" You reassured the sad little bundle of ribbons.

Your leg attempted to kick the disturbance beneath the table, but Jax was quick to catch your leg and instead using this advantage to spread them further. 'Heh, you're just makin this too easy, y/n.' He thought to himself. A gloved hand stroked your inner thigh, the other keeping it pried open. His fingertips got closer to the heat in between your legs and tried to keep your compsure.

Jax was sat with his legs crossed beneath the table, his ears just rubbing against the table due to his height. He pushed your undergarments aside , finger prodding at your wet slit before dipping a finger inside. His grin wide with delight.

You slapped your hand over your mouth , stifling a yelp. You desperately wanted to close your legs but his grip on your thigh was vice. He tutted in his head as if to silently scold you. Move again and he'd have no choice but to bite you. Oh, too bad you couldn't hear his threat. Guess you'll just have to learn the hard way.

His finger kept pumping in and out of your cunt slowly, your hips bucked forward. "Hhn.." You hummed in pleasure, pretending it was because of the 'delicious' food. Shooting a nervous, half smile at Zooble who eyed you curiously. If anyone knew, it was them. They couldn't tell what exactly was going on but was sure the only person who could be behind this was the one person who wasn't at the table. Jax.

Another finger was added and you gasped, attempting to hide it with a cough. Jax found this hilarious and had to stifle his laughter, using this chance to suddenly pump those two fingers into your cunt even faster. Causing your legs to shake and try to close around his hand again.

Nope.

His mouth opened, sharp rows of teeth being bared just before he chomped at your inner thigh, leaving bright red teeth marks that just nearly broke the skin. This sent a shudder through your spine, the mix of pain and pleasure pushing you even closer to climax. Being in such a vulnerable situation, surrounded by many questioning eyes.. it wasn't fair.. you'd have to get him back by this.

"Ghn.." You squeezed your eyes shut, trying your hardest to have to the quietest orgasm of your life. But the way he was digging into your cunt , purposely curling his fingers it made it all too hard. Your hand reached down and grabbed his hand but in turn he grabbed yours , fingers digging in your forearm to keep you still as a violent orgasm wracked through your body.

You bit your lip nearly making it bleed as you came, hunched over the table. A few people had already vacated , only Kinger and Gangle were left at the table. Kinger completely unaware and Gangle still worried.

"I.. I need to be excused..!" You said, your voice a little horse. Jax removed his fingers from your cunt unceremoniously and wiped his fingers on your inner thigh. Sitting back and admiring his work.

He saw you stand up quickly, your legs almost giving out as the chair scooted back with an ungodly screech.

You hurried back to your room, glaring at Jax's in the process. You knew he had to wait for everyone to leave the table before he could even think about coming to his room.

Hurriedly you cleaned yourself up, face still flushed and heart still racing from that little incident.

You heard a little knock on your door and swung it open immediately, or course it was Jax. Standing there with a smug look on his face. Your hand curled around one of his overall straps and yanked him inside. The door slamming afterwards.

"No need to get violent doll, seems like you enjoyed yourself out there. Am I wrong? Or was I just hallucinating your pretty cunt clenching around my fingers?"

"Sh.. Shut up!" You pushed him onto the bed and he laid back, arms crossed behind his head carelessly. "Why? What ya gonna do, suck me off til I have a heart attack?"

"Nope. I'm not touching you at all."

He sat up, "What? C'mon don't be like that doll," You tried to hide your grin, giving him a faux cold shoulder so he couldn't make out your expression.

"Maybe.. if you get on your knees and say please then I'll return the favor. How about that?" You said, finally revealing your face to him. A sly smile playing on your lips.

"Not happening." He said in a flat tone.

"Well then I hope you like being blue balled my little bunny." You said with a smile and got up from the bed but he grabbed your wrist before you could. His face was downcast at the floor, hiding the very subtle flush on his cheeks.

. . . . .

Kinger swung open your door without thinking , "JAX! We have a problem I—" Kinger stood in shock, staring at Jax on his knees pleading to you and you sitting on the bed with your legs crossed staring down at him. Jax face palmed, of course. Of course someone had to interrupt.

"I.. see, perhaps I should come back later.." He slowly shut the door.

[three-dee-ess]

It's time for the top 5 most FUCKED UP 3DS/DSs that people have sent me unprompted!!!

Starting from the tamest to the most messed up-

5. Not 3DS.

This straight up isn't a 3DS and it's pretty funny I think but yeah 5th place goes to every ask I get that sends me pictures of things that aren't 3DS's or 3DS related. I've gotten dogs, PS vitas, and as you can tell, a Wii U.

4. The (literal) unhinged DS

What makes this one different than the other ones people have posted on this website is. a) this was sent to me directly and b) the fact it is STILL FULLY FUNCTIONAL DESPITE IT ALL?????

3. This puffy fellow.

if your 3DS looks like this PLEASE look up safe lithum ion battery disposal areas near you, a battery that puffy can and WILL turn into a fireball if pierced/popped. Excluding the... obvious though- it seems to just be. pretty normal.

2. LEGO hot glue screw mess.

It somehow looks like chewed up gum, a terrible DIY and like chernobyl's elephant foot all rolled up into one. And it basically is!

HONORABLE MENTIONS!!!

in order of appearance, these are the DS's that didn't make the cut. bath bomb 3DS, barnacle 3DS, fucked DS lite, dorito DS, 3DSXL with a chomp taken out, and always 3D 3DS.

Number 1 most FUCKED Up DS someone has sent me...

1. Blood DSi

Words fail me so I'll just. quote directly from the person who sent this in.

"yeah so the L button stopped working back in like probably 2015 so i opened it up recently to see if i could pop something back into place and there was just this weird squishy crud inside that smelled like dried blood (don't ask) this led to probably the most unhinged picture i've ever taken because it was 4am and i was trying to do this on my bed for some reason (don't do that. obviously) obviously i gave them a good cleaning with isopropyl but i think i nudged something wrong because now they just. randomly shut off sometimes. it already had issues for years like the screen randomly turning pink. but at least they don't poop. i think. but they do bleed apparently. my ds family is very ok"

this is just a sampling of the many fucked up 3DS's people send me all of the time. I've been working on this post for a while but blood DSi pushed me over the edge. The image of it on the bed with the line of isopropyl... I just. I'm speechless honestly.

[dadsbongos]

till death do us part

772 words / warnings - gross sex like grimy, dubcon, mentions of blood

summary - desperate to live, you and Cahara make love.

~~~

Just as you’re certain nothing could possibly get worse, the dungeons of Fear and Hunger have a clever way of proving you wrong.

You’d sacrificed a bear trap to escape one of the hulking prison guards on the previous level, but nonetheless Cahara is gushing blood through his palm from blocking a meat cleaver. Even experienced mercenaries can fizzle into petrified adolescents down here.

His injury aside, your food supply has dwindled vastly. Herbs and vials soon after. Only enough for one person.

No cloth binds to stop his bleeding nor even alcohol to burn away the germs.

“It’s… a long shot. We won’t,” you reread the excerpt from Studies of Syvlian, “We won’t be ourselves in the traditional sense,” you turn towards Cahara, he’s got his fists cupped as if he could keep his blood from spilling over the floor, “I don’t know what’ll happen to our minds, but our bodies will be done for as we know them.”

Cahara stares at you. Boyish and sweet in a way unbefitting of a mercenary. Unbefitting of this dungeon. He nods and lets his fingers go lax, the pooled blood dribbles down his lithe fingers and blots the floor below, “Yeah, okay,” he hisses as he wipes the blood from his hands against his pants, “Let’s do this, then!”

“You’re sure?”

“Let’s go!”

“Cahara, I don’t want to make you- “

“Oh, dollface, I know what I’m doing. Die while trying,” his gray eyes swim with more blue than steel, “Let’s do this while we’re kicking, yeah?”

His tender certainty makes you more hesitant.

Cahara slips off his vest quickly, trousers soon to follow as he smarms, “There’s not many who could rival my skills in this line of business, you know?”

Protest is trapped in the back of your throat, despite this being your suggestion, until Cahara stands directly before you. His hands are softer than you’d expect, soothing over the knots in your shoulders and grazing his fingertips under your blouse. It’s matted and blood-stained, now an unsightly russet overtakes the pillowy white. You can hardly remember why you wore such a lovely thing to these dungeons.

He slides your blouse off as you undo his trousers, then slipping off his chest piece.

Freezing stone floor jerks goosebumps from your whole body, Cahara notices the jitter and rolls you on top -- he braves the uncomfortable so you can focus on slicking his cock with spit. You’re not wet, and Cahara can’t delude himself into thinking he’ll be able to change that, not with how you’re constantly looking over your shoulder.

He sighs quietly once he’s buried inside you: you’re warm, at least. Very warm. Squeezing hands fasten your pelvis to his, hips bucking into you and punching quiet huffs from your chest. Cahara smiles up at you, squiggly and shivering as sweat glistens down the column of his throat.

Guilt gnaws up the rungs of your spine, gulping your brian stem, and chomping through your brain tissue -- guilt for this suggestion, guilt for him doing all the work, guilt for your sounds restricting to groans and grunts. Cahara deserves better, Cahara should live, Cahara brings a hand to the back of your neck.

Spreading blackened joints along your nape, Cahara lulls you to hunch over his chest until you’re smashing lips together. His brows are furrowed, he pecks the corner of your lips and whispers,

“Can I have your tongue? Is that okay?”

Nodding shyly, you scrape your knees against the floor to spread wider for his thrusting and open your mouth. Tongue lolling to skim Cahara’s -- his breath hitches and his other hand rises to cup your cheek. Without the grounding, your body jumps with each rock of his hips and you’ve decided to grind back down, hoping to coax Cahara’s finish quickly.

He whines, you suck his tongue as if to taste the sweet sound and absorb the pleasure.

Miraculously, it seems to work.

Suddenly, you feel wet. So wet. Warm. Thighs suctioning against Cahara’s waist: the impression of his cock long gone, but you maintain the motions as if it's still there. Preserving a sense of normalcy in manufactured frenzy. Molten bubbles bursting in burning veins.

Burns hot. Hot white. White blisters meld your skin to Cahara’s.

Cahara’s moans swerve into growled screams as your teeth clench so hard you feel them shatter and slice into your gums. Gummy flesh folds into flesh, yours and Cahara’s skulls colliding -- soft mushing where there should be loud clacks. Clacking lanterns and soft hums echo from priests as your eyes flutter, vision blackening.

Black.

Black.

Black.

Eyes open. The marriage is consummated.

[triptychgrip]

That banquet plot twist, Inside Out style

“At last year’s Final, I was always by myself, even at the banquet. I couldn’t even talk to Victor,” Yuuri cheerily announced. 

*cut to the Mind Palace Conference Room within Viktor’s Inner Psyche (VIP)*

VIP Intercom: CODE RED. We repeat: THIS IS A CODE RED *alarm bells blaring*

“WHAT?! What did Yuuri just say?!” Passion cried.

He began to claw at his long, silver-colored locks in distress, while Pragmatism impassively kept his eyes glued to the room’s main tv screen. On it, a very unflattering GIF of Viktor doing a spit-take played repeatedly.

At that very moment, Cynicism waltzed in, wearing a triumphant smile and looking like he was intent on making himself at home; indeed, in one hand, he was carrying an unopened bottle of Beluga vodka, while the other balanced a sizable tray loaded with pickles, caviar, crackers, and several different kinds of cheese and condiments. 

“Well, you heard the man!” he cried, setting the vodka and snack tray down on the conference table before gesturing at the screen with overt glee. “It’s like I’ve been telling the rest of you idiots for months; the banquet meant way more to us than it ever did to Yuuri!” 

He sank into the room’s plushest armchair before grabbing a pickle and chomping on it with relish. It was with an undoubtedly smug expression that he glanced at Passion, who’d begun rocking back and forth, hugging his knees to his chest. With each forward and back motion, the glint of cross-hatched sparkles on the arm of his Lilac Fairy costume caught the fluorescent overhead lights.

“Awww, Passion, you poor thing,” Cynicism cooed, tauntingly, with his mouth full. “You always get carried away by your romantic, flighty notions, don’t you? And then either Shame or myself have to clean up your messes.”

As he made a grab for the vodka, Cynicism glanced back at the tv, which now displayed a slack-jawed, frazzled Yuuri saying “A dance-off?! With Yurio?!”. In the very next moment, Yuuri’s entire face had broken out into a sweat.

And speak of the devil, because Shame had now slunk into the room, muttering to himself distractedly with his eyes on the floor. He was wearing his usual stained and wrinkled t-shirt/sweats, and so of course Pragmatism – who was in the perfectly pressed Armani suit he always wore on Thursdays – didn’t seem to be able to help throwing him a withering look of judgment. (And incidentally, the others had heard Pragmatism’s “dress for success” lecture far too often by now.)

When Shame finally decided to look up to see who was already gathered, his eyes immediately honed in on Passion with a glare. The latter flinched back, nearly tumbling out of his panic-rocking stance.

“See what you’ve done, Passion?!” Shame cried, before throwing himself into the nearest chair, defeatedly. 

Without even a word he made to wrestle the Beluga away from Cynicism and began chugging from the mouth of the bottle, directly.

“Thanks to your full-steam-ahead mantra – glug glug glug – we’ve made a complete ass of ourselves in front of Yuuri and the Katsukis, and all of Hasetsu, for that matter!” Shame went on, only getting two more gulps down before Cynicism wrested control of the bottle.

Now bereft of any alcohol to drown his sorrows, Shame began to slump down in his seat so that only the very top of his (expansive) tomato-red forehead could be seen over the table. 

“Oh my GOD, the utter indignity!! We were stark naked the first time Yuuri saw us in Hasetsu!” he went on in a strident cry, and though his hands weren’t visible, the room’s other occupants knew that he was likely wringing them under the table. “That moment when we touched his lip and asked whether he could show us his eros…no wonder he looked like he wanted to die!”

Having remained silent up until this point, Pragmatism thought it prudent to weigh in. He sat up straighter in his seat and fingered his silk tie. 

“Shame, I know you’re stressed, but this isn’t the time to be blaming everything on Passion,” he spoke up sternly, then gave a long pause when said man stared at him, his lips rounded into a perfect “o” of surprise.

“If you want to take your anger out on anyone for not suspecting Yuuri didn’t remember that night, well then, you should…”

His voice trailed off, and his shoulders slumped in a manner very unlike him.

“...you should take it out on me,” he meekly continued.

This shrinking tone was so foreign to the others that Cynicism actually stopped his caviar-on-cracker slathering and Shame peeked his head out from under the table to gawk.

An awkward silence stretched out before Shame spoke up, sounding incredulous.

“And how do you figure that?” he asked Pragmatism, sitting up a bit higher. “After Sochi, you were fairly watchful over us all. I’d even go as far as to say that you’re the only thing that stopped Passion from convincing Viktor to send Yuuri all that cringy, pining fanfic he started writing.”

“Hey! It wasn’t cringy!” Passion interjected, appearing predictably affronted. “It was sweet! And not to mention, very romantic; Makkachin even told me so!”

“Ohhhh, well if Makkachin said so, then that settles the matter,” Cynicism sarcastically drawled while resuming his snack assembly. “I’m sure Yuuri would have been immediately charmed and not at all creeped out after reading that draft in which they become the competitive pole dancing world’s most beloved Power Couple.”

Passion’s cheeks flamed with embarrassment, but before he could lob back a retort, Pragmatism thumped his hand against the table a few times. 

When all eyes refocused on him, he opened his trusty notebook – the one that could always be found on his person, even when he was in bed and fully in the nude – and gave a long exhale. 

“I’m the one to blame, because I’m the one in charge of stepping in when Viktor gets ahead of himself,” he resumed. “And whether that be due to Passion or some other influence–” (at these words, Passion, Cynicism, and Shame couldn’t help but furtively look at one another, noting a conspicuous absence from their usual group. However, no one felt brave enough to wonder aloud at where Discipline was) “–, I’m the one who’s supposed to remain impartial and keep everything in check.”

Pragmatism paused and when he next spoke, there was an indecipherable expression on his face.

“After Sochi, even though I harbored the fear that Yuuri had been too drunk that night to remember our dancing, I never said anything. Because the truth is, Passion…after the banquet night, you were…around a lot more than you’d been before.”

He paused again and gave a shrug, looking oddly shy. 

“When weeks went by and we never heard from Yuuri, I could have easily voiced my suspicions, but by then, I’d remembered how nice it was, to–, to have you around. And so regularly, too?”

His voice turned up at the end in a way that shocked the others.

That pitchy manner of framing something as more of a question rather than an answer was actually a habit that Pragmatism was known to roll his eyes at. “If you’re going to say something, then commit!” was a sentence they’d all heard him say at various points.

Pragmatism’s hands had curled into tight fists, placed on either side of his notebook.

“What I’m trying to say is that in December and January you were suddenly hanging out with all of us again like you’d never left the group. And come February and March, let’s be honest: nobody could get Cynicism to shut up for more than a few minutes at a time.”

Cynicism gave a wounded-sounding gasp from around a mouthful of cracker (which caused him to spew bits of caviar across the table), but Pragmatism went on before he could get a word in, edgewise. 

“I could see you getting more and more discouraged every time he opened his mouth, Passion, and while I was inclined to agree with a lot of what he was saying, I didn’t want to be the one to give you reason to leave again by “raining on your parade”. Because I–”

He gave a noisy swallow, looking supremely uncomfortable.

“ –because I’d missed you, ok?!”

A collective gasp rippled around the room. 

Such a gooey sentiment wasn’t completely out of the norm for Viktor, but for it to come from Pragmatism?

The unexpected, teetering energy that had been building since the Code Red alert seemed to have come to a head, and more than one of them appeared shell-shocked by this admission. Indeed, Pragmatism found Passion’s eyes, and actually blushed when he saw the way the latter was staring at him. 

That very uncharacteristically emotional outburst had lent something distinctly starry-eyed to Passion’s countenance, and there was a sort of collective understanding hanging in the air as everyone thought back to moments over a decade in the past: the first day Viktor brought Makkachin home (15 years old), his first kiss (16 years old), Viktor’s first Olympic gold medal win (17 years old)…

These core memories were all ones in which Viktor had been at his best because Passion had been the star of the show, rather than a part of Viktor that was merely being tolerated, or outright being shunted to the side so that Discipline could “helm the ship”, so to speak. 

Indeed, even Shame had been begrudgingly happy to let Passion take the reins in these moments once he’d seen the light returning to Viktor’s dulled gaze. And, once they’d all seen the way the black veil of depression that Cynicism sometimes wielded seemed easier to grapple with.

And speaking of which, Shame now looked at Cynicism. 

He was fully expecting the other to offer up a cutting remark that would dispel the mushy atmosphere that had formed, but for once the quick-witted, sharp-tongued Cynicism seemed to be at a loss. His second cracker was still aloft in the air, and he’d clearly forgotten what he’d been in the middle of doing, because a sizable glob of caviar had fallen, splattering across the table.

With another gargantuan exhale, Pragmatism scratched the back of his neck and then poked a finger at his open notebook. 

“So anyways, about the banquet meaning more to us than it did to Yuuri and the various reasons for why that might have been the case…I had many theories, even if I never voiced them.”

In that weird, synchronized way that none of them could really explain, they all turned in unison to look at the tv, which had been paused on a freeze-frame of Viktor at the banquet, before the dance-off and pole-dancing had begun. 

He was staring at a very glum-looking Yuuri over his shoulder, with an expression of overt curiosity (no doubt recalling that anticlimactic “commemorative photo?” exchange from the prior day). 

Celestino Cialdini had an arm slung around his former student, and all 4 of the Mind Palace Conference Room occupants experienced a moment of gratitude that they were able to “pause” the other parts of Viktor’s Inner Psyche to talk through this particular evening of tumult and its aftermath in detail.

“Back in April, there were more than a few times Yuuri said or did something that made me question if he even remembered the banquet, but every time Cynicism approached me for my take on things, I found a way to rationalize the evidence away,” Pragmatism continued, now sounding disconcertingly sheepish.

At this revelation, Shame gasped, theatrically, then began to swivel his head between Cynicism and Pragmatism.

“Oh, well, that’s wonderful to know!” he practically spat, standing up from his seat, abruptly. “Back then, I was having a breakdown practically every other day, worrying that we’d made the most colossal mistake of our lives, while you two were…what? Having Side conversations?!”

Pragmatism's perfectly arched brows knitted and he brought a fist to his forehead in obvious frustration.

“Yes, Shame; we did. And before you get back up on your high horse to berate us, let me point out how difficult you are to reason with when you’re really in your element," he sharply countered.

Now it was Shame’s turn to flush brick-red, and he crossed his arms with a huff before sitting back down in his seat. He looked like a scolded child, and everyone knew why: the dreaded Cup of China parking garage incident. 

That Shame-Spiral once they’d gotten back to Hasetsu had not been pretty, and it had taken the combined efforts of Pragmatism, Discipline and Passion to make him see reason; indeed, Passion had been particularly cross, as he’d wanted to bask in the glow of Viktor and Yuuri’s first kiss without any guilt around that empty “take responsibility and resign as your coach” threat hanging around.

Another awkward silence had settled over the room, but this time, it was interrupted by a very out-of-place whistle. 

Looking better fit to be out on a walk with Makkachin rather than sitting in on this tense deliberation, Discipline strolled into the room with one hand in the pocket of his expensive trench coat, and the other looping his International Skating Union coaching credentials badge around and around his finger, like a lasso. 

“Oh, the gang’s all here!” he exclaimed, looking genuinely shocked to have arrived late before beaming, his mouth turning heart-shaped. “Excellent! I’d been meaning to call a meeting so that we could do a fashion strategy session!”

He literally galloped forwards, making for the seat at the head of the table.

“Tomorrow is such an important day for our Yuuri, so we need to look extremely professional, even more than our Regionals debut! Should we do the Gucci suit or the Tom Ford one?” he went on, bouncing a bit in place while surveying the others.

He then froze in confusion at the multiple deadpan expressions he was met with.

“Can you believe this guy?” Passion muttered, grabbing the vodka and drinking a good quarter down in a matter of seconds. 

“Unbelievable," Shame chimed in, swiping a hand over his face.

"Discipline, let me be the one to broach the elephant in the room: when you got the VIP Intercom Code Red alert, did you just…what? Think that was a joke, or something?” Shame continued, sounding irritated. “It’s nowhere near April so don’t try to tell us that you thought it was an April Fool’s type of deal.”

Discipline opened his mouth, looking blithe as ever, but Cynicism was the one to speak first.

“Heh, heh, do you guys remember when Yakov declared that the entire month of April should be called Georgi month?” he asked, making Pragmatism cringe in disgust at his continued habit of talking with his mouth full. “You know…because love and heartbreak and all that mushy-gushy stuff is for fools?” 

“It IS for fools!!” Passion cried, despairingly, waving the vodka around with such fervor that it almost smashed into Pragmatism’s face, the latter man trying to confiscate the bottle entirely. “For fools named Viktor Nikiforov who hightail it to Japan without even once stopping to wonder whether the love of their life might have been blackout drunk as a skunk the night they first met!” 

Cynicism began to snicker, and Discipline just looked at Shame, who immediately face-palmed.

“So, I’m starting to feel like I missed something…” Discipline said, slowly, after a few beats had elapsed.

------

For anyone who’s ever wondered about the inner workings of Viktor’s mind in those world-upending moments after that episode 10 bombshell, I hope you enjoyed this little Inside Out style dramatization!

HUGE shoutout to my friend @korruptbrekker not only for beta reading but also for the idea to give each of Viktor’s personality facets distinct clothing styles (i.e. Passion is depicted with long hair and wearing the Lilac Fairy costume to represent Viktor’s teenage years, when his passion for skating was at its peak...before he became jaded *sob*). 

Brekker is also a Sanders Sides expert, and Thomas Sanders' amazing YouTube series, perhaps even more than Inside Out was a huge motivation for my wanting to write this (I got into the heartfelt/hilarious Sides several years late, but better late than never, right?). In fact, there are elements of this that parallel some of the take-aways from amazing Sides episodes like Dealing With Intrusive Thoughts, and then there's also the fact that unlike Inside Out, my characters represent facets of Viktor's personality rather than the emotions that are depicted with Riley's character in Inside Out.

I’ll likely expand on this with a Yuuri version of the same scene (starring characters like Anxiety, Confidence, etc.), so if you liked this, be on the lookout! And if you like my writing style, you might enjoy looking through my YOI fanfiction on ao3 :)

[ladylaratybur]

AoT Analysis: Why I like the Tyburs as characters

A question I get a lot is why I like the Tyburs so much, especially when Willy was "evil" and Lara had so little screen time. I made a thread on Twitter about why I like them, but not everyone who asked me this has it, so I thought I'd post here too : )

DISCLAIMER 1: Please forgive any weirdness; since this is copied from Twitter there might be errors or wacky formatting. Later I'll probably go over it and polish it up.

DISCLAIMER 2: This is my opinion. If you don't like the characters, you have every right. Just don't hate on folks who don't share your opinions ^_^

Aside from being really well written and interesting to analyze (so many people misinterpret Willy as being straight up evil but he's actually a foil to Eren at the least), I find their vibe and aura extremely powerful and interesting for not being there for very long. I think Willy's dilemma is fascinating to analyze; he's there for only a couple episodes yet is extremely important, and so morally grey that his position and decision is interesting to ponder. Yes, his actions are undeniably evil; he was willing to sacrifice the Eldians in Liberio, as well as the island of Paradis, but his goal was to protect the Eldians everywhere else in the world as well as the nation he had responsibility to protect (Marley). Allowing (not even directly murdering) roughly 20% of the population to save the rest sounds like a less brutal parallel of someone else, no? Additionally, Willy felt extremely guilty for his family's inaction in protecting Eldians in the past, and despite his immense guilt over the sins of his ancestors, he wanted to save them, and was ashamed his family had allowed them to suffer at the hands of the Marleyans. He also undeniably has responsibilities to protect Marley. Additionally, there's not much else he could do in his situation; if he took direct action in obvious defense of all Eldians, they would have been wiped out, and he would have lost his position and the ability to protect them (however, I wonder if he secretly wanted the rumbling.) Again, his actions were NOT justifiable; he personifies the mindset that the ends justify the means. But he is extremely complicated, and trapped by circumstances. Had he been a normal person, he wouldn't have been evil. Additionally, the war was Zeke's idea and he capitalized on it for his own goals. Willy is extremely well fleshed out for such a short appearance.

As for Lara, she's my prime example of how amazing a character creator Isayama is. She was there for 3 episodes and had 2 lines, yet her aura and presence were super powerful. Her expressions say so much, and was memorable as a character despite very minimal attention. There is also a lot to her if you read between the lines. Presumably she was raised as a noble child, yet probably fairly sheltered due to her family, and likely at a young age had to give up everything to be the Warhammer heir. She was entirely devoted to her mission, accepting her duty though it meant devoting herself to a life of service and secrecy. She had to endure everything alone, from the change in her life to all the memories and secrets of the Warhammer. Through it all she remained loyal and devoted, with probably only her brother to help her. She is silently strong and silently suffering all for what she thinks of as the highest good. Like her brother she was willing to sacrifice her life for this good (though we don't know how much she knew, we do know Willy's mind changed about his family's past inactivity and he became more sympathetic to the Eldians because of what Lara revealed from the Warhammer's memories).

Something else I love about the Tyburs is how devoted to family they are; Willy with his kids, Lara smiling and giving her nieces and nephews treats, and how Lara was clearly grieving (yet strong!) when her brother got chomped.

Part of what's so fascinating about Lara is how mysterious she is and getting to theorize as a result. We can glean information about her through how Eren changed after eating her, as well as through Willy's character and motivations, but we don't ACTUALLY know anything. She could have been secretly in control of ALL of Marley, or she could have been a timid, manipulated, brainwashed child like the warriors. We don't know but there's reason for both. All we know is Eren seemed darker, silent, resentful after inheriting her titan. She also seemed like she could've been a support for Willy too, based on her reassuring him even after his death, even though she was younger. I choose to think she urged him to take action after the Tybur family's long years as idle rich who let their own race suffer endlessly.

True she could also be extremely evil and conniving ... And some people who misinterpret the Tyburs believe they're like H17ler or worse some antisemit1c stereotype ... But that's, in my opinion, far from the truth. (Also Willy seems heavily NORSE inspired)

I also think people dislike Willy and Lara because there WAS some mishandling in their writing. While the mystery IS part of what's alluring about them, Eren won in a way he shouldn't have. It felt like plot armor. Lara made a big impression and then died. It felt sloppy.

Aside from that I love Willy and Lara because I really do like their character designs x) I think both of them are beautiful (though again, that's far from the only reason I like them) ... Also Lara is fun AF to cosplay and if I was a man I would cosplay Willy for sure. I also like the very WW1 vibe of the Tyburs and their aesthetic (I need to write an essay someday on why AoT is primarily inspired by ww1 and English history rather than ww2).

Thank y'all for reading and I hope you enjoyed!! <3

(also for a literature class on classical rhetoric, I did a deep dive into Willy's speech and motivations as an essay for my final. I'm still waiting to get it back. I would like to possibly transcribe it into a post since I didn't really address Willy's motives much here. It's very similar to this one except it's about Willy more than Lara.)

[hotmessmaxpress]

Based on this post.

I stopped what I was doing to write this, and it’s not proofread or well done, but I thought it would be fun! So I wrote it.

AKA: the soulmate goose AU

The goose appears at the ranch, long necked and waiting patiently in the box for the riders to stop for the day.

They all laugh and joke, wondering who the goose is for. It makes no move toward any of them, simply cocks its head and looks between them all.

“HONK.”

Bez startles on his bike and Pecco punches him in the arm good-naturedly.

“Surely it’s for you, no? With your hopeless romantic life.”

Bez shakes his head but keeps a wary eye on the goose as they all begin the process of storing the bikes and stripping out of their dirty gear.

They all linger around the track until the sunlight starts to fade, perhaps subconsciously not wanting to see who the goose follows. The goose makes the first move, though, waddling out from under the roof of the box and taking a short flight to the waiting cars.

It lands solidly on Vale’s car, setting the car alarm off.

The first 24 hours with the Goose are fine. It flies above Vale’s car on his short drive down the street from the ranch to his home, and it waddles behind him as he parks his car and walks into his home. It sits politely outside the bathroom while he showers, and when he dries off and tugs on a pair of boxers to sleep in, the Goose makes a nest in the corner of his room with a throw blanket and an extra pillow.

The problems with the Goose begin the next morning. Vale had heard that soulmate geese take the personality of the unlucky soul they are supposed to be guiding, but he had assumed that wouldn’t be an issue.

His Goose is a pain in the ass. It squawks at him when he tries to make his coffee, just to startle him. It steals bites of his breakfast off of his plate and snaps at his ankles.

It has fucking teeth.

Vale isn’t sure if he can bring the Goose on the plane, but he can’t miss the race weekend, so he embarrassedly asks Ucchio to make sure it’s okay. He has no desire to have the Goose follow him during the race weekend, but he has read enough stories to know that trying to impede or thwart the Goose isn’t a good idea (especially with a goose as obnoxious as his).

As if sensing his thought, the Goose waddles down the private jet aisle and bites his ankle.

“Fuck!” Vale swears.

Ucchio snorts next to him, and Vale turns to glare at him. Before he can say anything, the Goose turns and snaps at his fingers where they’re resting on his armrest, chomping Uccio’s thick fingers in his tiny, sharp goose teeth.

Vale and the Goose share a satisfied look.

The Goose is an even bigger menace in the paddock. It bites a woman on the ass, to Vale’s horror, and he gets stuck signing a helmet for her in exchange for her not suing him or trying to kill his goose.

It steals a Sky sports microphone and flies above the paddock just to drop it and shatter it on the pavement. It snatches food directly from Quartararo’s hand, and Vale actually feels a pang of guilt at his sad face.

Vale draws the line when it attempts to drag Luca away from the Honda garage by his pant leg, and he has to carry a screaming, squawking Goose away to one of the VR46 motorhomes. Once inside, he sets the Goose down just long enough to tend to the bleeding wounds it has caused, and he watches with suspicion as the Goose stares at a television in the corner.

On the television is a clip of Alex Marquez in his Gresini leathers, giving an interview about qualifying ahead of the race.

The Goose is suspiciously silent, and Vale has a moment of terror at the idea that his soulmate could be Alex Marquez.

“No,” he informs the Goose. “Absolutely not.”

Vale is sure that if the Goose could growl at him it would.

When he finally leaves the motorhome, trusting that the Goose has calmed down, it follows him quietly in the direction of the VR46 garage. Vale lets his mind focus on the boys, and how Diggia and Bez have been getting along.

He makes the mistake of momentarily forgetting the Goose.

“HONK. HONK, HONK, HONK!”

The Goose spreads its wings and comes suddenly after Vale, who abandons his dignity in favor of running away from his murderous Goose. He wonders for a moment if this is actually a soulmate goose or if it is instead some sort of secret-agent goose trained to assassinate him.

He looks over his shoulder as it honks and squawks and flaps its wings, nearly reaching his ankles, and he ducks around a corner only to slam full-force into Marc Marquez.

He knocks the smaller man off balance, and they fall against the wall behind him. Marc lets out a small ‘oof,’ then seems to see who has slammed into him.

Vale watches as Marc’s eyes widen. His hands are on Vale’s sides, having grabbed him to try and steady him, and Vale’s arms bracket his shoulders.

They share a few breaths before it occurs to Vale that the Goose hasn’t yet scratched his face off. He turns, and the Goose is sitting at their feet.

It’s the most polite he’s seen the Goose since their first meeting, and he looks between the Goose and Marc.

“You’re serious?” he asks the Goose.

“Honk,” the Goose replies politely.

“Wait, is it-” Marc starts.

“Honk!” the Goose responds again, waddling over to bump its head gently against Marc’s leg.

Vale watches in shock as the Goose delivers one more swift bite to his ankle and then disappears with a ‘poof’ and a flash of feathers.

He and Marc stare at the now goose-less spot in silence, still pressed close.

“Was that a-”

“I can’t believe it-”

They both begin at the same time.

They both stop at the same time, turning to look at one another.

“That was a soulmate goose,” Marc observes.

“That was the meanest fucking goose I’ve ever met,” Vale explains. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’d like to kiss you before it comes back to peck my eyes out.”

Marc narrows his eyes.

“I’m not kissing you just so you can avoid a goose, Valentino.”

Valentino winces.

“I’m sorry. It’s been a long time since we’ve spoken. My brain is still scrambled by the Goose. Can I start over?”

Marc takes a deep breath.

“Please.”

“You look amazing in your Gresini leathers,” Vale starts, finding he means it once he starts speaking. “I am happy to see you back on a bike and ready to win, even though the thought of you winning more championships than me makes me want to disappear into the ocean forever,” he explains.

Marc opens his mouth to argue but Vale shakes his head.

“I am old, and so lonely that I got a Goose. A very, very mean Goose. That has maybe opened my eyes to some things. We can work on the things that have happened in the past. For now, I’ll watch you race.”

Marc’s eyes light up, and it melts something in Vale.

“Okay,” Marc says brightly. “You can watch me win. And you can have one kiss, but only if you promise it’s good luck.”

Vale bends his head, pressing his lips to Marc’s, and sends a silent thank-you to the homicidal Goose.

[pointycorgiears]

Been thinking about Crocodile and his wani obsession collection, so here's an excerpt from my most recent fic (guest-starring Dragon):

~~~~

There was a rustling in the shrubs behind them as they observed the pond. Dragon turned to look and his breath hitched as a massive form emerged from the forest with a hiss and a mouthful of dagger-like teeth. His hand slowly reached out to touch Crocodile on the arm.

Crocodile glanced at him and smirked from the wide shock in his eyes. "Heh, don't worry about it. That's just Berry Whip."

Dragon stared at him, incredulous as if the use of a name would just explain everything. He eyed the huge, pink wani again as it made its way closer to them. There was a crest shaped like a strawberry on its head, explaining the bright, rosy magenta color. It aligned its long maw with Crocodile's right hand, nudging him softly with its snout and lifting his arm up over its teeth. Crocodile gave a hard scratch on the scales of its face and the creature gave a rumbling purr-growl in return.

"This is...a pet?" a perplexed Dragon asked.

"This is the float matriarch," Crocodile replied, and Dragon couldn't believe the grin on his face as he spoke. "She's in charge of the lake, the whole island really. She helps with the hatchlings, teaches them how swim and hunt. If they sink to the bottom, she pushes them back to the surface or lets them sit in her mouth til they figure it out."

"That's...amazing," Dragon said as he watched Crocodile continue to run his only hand dangerously close to the enormous teeth. He became aware of the bright yellow eyeball, level with Crocodile's shoulder, watching him intently. He tried not to look at it directly. "She appears to be quite docile."

"She's my little gal," Crocodile said happily.

Dragon raised his brow. "Little?"

"I found her right after the battle at Marineford. She was a runt that got lost from her float. Kept her in my coat pocket everywhere Daz and I went. She started growing once we got settled down here. Now she's the boss. Aren't you, Berry?"

Crocodile scratched the wani right above her lip. He held her lower jaw with his hook as her mouth opened wide, allowing him to inspect her teeth. A full grown man could have laid flat on his back on her tongue and still have room to move around. A loud rumble emanated from deep in the abyss-like throat and Dragon subconsciously stepped back.

Crocodile laughed as he sensed Dragon's apprehension behind him. "Don't worry, she's friendly! She's just saying hello. She won't bother you as long as you have my scent."

"I see."

The large mouth closed, rows of teeth joining seamlessly together in one soft chomp. Crocodile scratched the wani's head, leaning over her eye and planting a firm kiss on the scaly ridge leading to her crest. The yellow eye slowly blinked and Dragon swore he saw the corner of her mouth turn upward in a smile.

~~~~

Fun fact: Berry Whip got her name from a Snickers bar.

You can read my dragodile fic here.

[dystopicjumpsuit]

Hi DJ! If you’re still taking first kiss prompts, I was thinking something with “an accidental first kiss” with Mayday could be fun? I could see him freaking out at first and then totally going back for a second one once he realizes there’s feelings involved.

And if you don’t have time to get to this no worries! I hope you’re doing well 🤗 🙏🏻

A/N: Thanks for the ask @lightwise! This inspired me immediately, and I’ve been chomping at the bit to get to it!

Pairing: Commander Mayday x Reader (GN) 

Rating: T but minors DNI as always

Wordcount: 629

Warnings and tags: fluff; sympathetic embarrassment

Summary: You accidentally kiss Mayday. Things go better than expected. Also, if you love the idea of accidentally kissing Mayday, be sure to check out @moonlightwarriorqueen’s response to a similar ask!

Masterlist | Sign up for my tag list

You rubbed your eyes, trying to clear your vision—blurred from exhaustion and overwork—as you stared at your datapad. You were up to your ass in paperwork and preparations for the 77th Heavy Brigade’s deployment to the Outer Rim sieges, and you were barely halfway through. All around you, troopers, droids, and GAR personnel hustled through the cargo bay, stacking crates, calling out orders and occasional curses, and generally making an unholy ruckus.

You had just ticked three more crates off the cargo manifest on your datapad when you felt a light tap on your shoulder. Startled, you turned to see the brigade’s commander himself, carrying a ration bar and looking far more handsome than he had any right to when you knew he’d been working just as hard or harder than you had. His beard was freshly trimmed, and his long hair was just as tempting as ever, making your fingers itch to thread through it.

“Mayday,” you gasped. “I didn’t even hear you.”

He smiled. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Thought you might need this.”

He handed you the ration bar, and you accepted it gratefully, realizing you hadn’t eaten all day.

“Ugh, you’re the best,” you said, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek.

“Commander!” a trooper called, drawing his attention, and he turned his head just in time for your lips to collide directly with his.

You both froze, eyes wide as you stared at each other, lips still pressed together.

“Uh, never mind, it can wait,” the trooper said, scurrying away.

You stayed like that for a breath longer, paralyzed by mortification, until at last you pulled away, shielding your eyes with one hand to try to hide.

“Jeez, I’m so sorry,” you mumbled. “That was—I didn’t mean—”

Mayday let out an awkward, strained chuckle. “That’s all right. It was just an accident.”

“Uh-huh,” you said, still refusing to meet his eyes.

He paused. “Hey… It was an accident… Right?”

“Yeah!” you said, your voice coming out in an unconvincing squeak. “I definitely didn’t want it to happen like that…”

You turned back to your datapad, desperately hoping that he would take the hint and just go away, leaving you to die of embarrassment in peace.

He paused. “But you did want it to happen?”

You dropped your head to peer more closely at the cargo manifest, muttering something indistinctly under your breath. Mayday glanced around the cargo bay, then took you gently by the wrist and tugged you behind a stack of crates, shielding you from view of the bustling crowd. His fingertips ghosted along your jaw, softly tilting your face toward his.

“Did you want it?” he murmured.

Unable to hide behind your datapad any longer, you forced yourself to meet his eyes, knowing that he’d see the truth in your expression. 

“M—Mayday… I…” You swallowed, then whispered, “Yes.”

He trailed his fingers down your throat, then slid his strong, warm hand to the back of your neck and slowly pulled you closer. His lips were so soft as he kissed you—soft enough to surprise you, even though you’d already felt them beneath your own. You drew in a soft, shuddering breath as your eyes drifted closed. Distantly, you heard the clatter of your ration bar and datapad as you dropped them to the durasteel floor, leaving your hands free to slide around his body as his tongue brushed over your lips.

The kiss ended far sooner than you would have preferred, but Mayday still held you in his arms, gazing down at you with an awestruck expression.

“Kriff,” he breathed. “We should do that again.”

You nodded enthusiastically, tangling your fingers in his hair the way you’d wanted to for so many months and pulling his face back to yours. “Absolutely.”

[catgirlredux]

Hound Dogs

“… tomorrow we’ll meet your handler. For now, rest up.”

RDAI.vii.1156 stared down at its new body. Joining the military was considered the best route a Class-F citizen could pursue - free food, shelter, maybe even a few augments if you got lucky. But the Rapid Deployment Auxiliary Infantry unit felt less lucky and more confused. It signed up expecting to be given a gun and a pat on the back, not… this.

The arms were probably the strangest change. Skilled military surgeons had removed its forearms with a single blast of a laser that numbed its pain and severed flesh and bone at the same time. In their place, 1156 now wielded on each arm a single long, spider-like metal blade that extended all the way to the floor. The same happened to its legs, forcing the unit onto all fours. A reinforced spine kept it from collapsing onto the ground.

The rest of its body was covered in angular metal plates, designed to redirect and resist gunfire and protect the unit’s remaining flesh. Its face was likewise covered by an solid steel visor, vision and hearing substituted by an array of cameras, sonar, and radio scanners that fed information directly into its augmented brain. Its mouth remained uncovered but its teeth were removed and replaced with a new carbon fiber set. The chip in its brain repressed its discomfort so it didn’t try to claw off its own jaw.

A buzzer sounded and a tray carrying a bowl of nutrimeal slid out of the wall of the room. Unit 1156 stared it at, trying to figure out what to do - an injected concoction of hormones and suppressants had kept it comfortably dull, but somewhat muddled.

>EAT

The word flashed up on the inside of its visor, glaring into its semi-redundant eyes - eyes now dedicated to receiving screen-fed orders. It obediently craned its head down and started chomping at the slop. It was starving - the accelerated healing process was effective but it sapped all the solider’s energy.

Even if its senses hadn’t been muted, the nutritional goop was flavorless. Nevertheless it found itself slurping away with abandon, licking the bowl clean, dignity cast aside. Its faceplate glowed white hot for a moment before cooling down again, singeing off specks of food that had flown astray in the unit’s feeding frenzy. This feature was meant to burn blood and dirt off so that it didn’t impair an RDAI’s sensor array, but it worked for dinner well enough.

>GOOD MUTT

*****

The next day found RDAI.vii.1156 waiting in the main hangar, still slightly trembling on its spindly new legs. The thin, bladed design was perfect for chasing down enemy troops on the battlefield or pinning a straggler to the ground, but it was difficult to balance with even with the aid of the unit’s brain augments. A cord plugged into the back of its head kept it from wandering too far while feeding low-level electrical pulses that helped calm its nerves. It was waiting for its new handler - the soldier it would fight alongside, whose life it would dedicate itself to protecting. The bond between a handler and their hound (as the units were fondly referred to) was something truly unique, and though 1156 hadn’t planned to end up on this side of the relationship, it couldn’t help but feel excited.

It could feel her presence long before she actually entered the hangar. Perhaps it was merely the hormonal braindeck releasing waves of dopamine, but to the cyborg’s mind she was the most perfect being in the world. It could almost taste the draw of her augments to its own, pulling the two of them together like magnets. It knew that she felt it too. The connection between them was already established: the handler and the hunter, the owner and the dog.

It couldn’t quite remember what beauty looked like but it decided that she must be as close as one could get. Bent on all fours as 1156 was, it stood about half a meter shorter than her. Encased in a shiny automorphic techsuit, her body rippled with hidden energy ready to be unleashed at a moment’s notice. Her one eye shone, the other replaced by an implant that flashed rapidly as if to say, it’s finally you.

A technician standing by unplugged the unit’s tether and stuck in a thinner, double-ended wire. 1156 trembled as its handler grabbed the other end and slowly slotted it into a port on her neck.

The instant the plug connected, 1156 nearly collapsed from the tsunami of pleasure that struck it at full force. All Handler’s emotions, all her thoughts, her very essence flowed through its brain, and it could tell that she was experiencing the same influx of data.

They stood there for what seemed like forever, its faceplate lights flashing in sync with her vitals node. The only sound was the slight clinking of metal on concrete as 1156 shifted from talon to talon. Her designation was RDI-H.2054, she was a Class-E civilian who was recruited at age 8, she had been trained as a handler for 11 years, but 1156 was her first hound of her own. She liked the color green, she hated morning training, she had been deployed overseas on a scouting mission just three months ago. The unit’s brain felt overloaded with information and yet more kept flowing in.

It saw vague images, faces of people that it didn’t recognize yet felt so familiar - Handler’s family? It saw the fire of war, the smiles of fellow soldiers, it felt her heartbeat, her brainwaves, her every breath. For a split second, the hound and the handler were not separate but rather a single entity, one soldier in two bodies, sharing their memories. 1156 felt its Handler’s cybernetic eye and her prosthetic leg, and she likewise felt its spindly new form and armor plating.

RDAI.vii.1156 felt 2054 about to scream and roared out in sync. Its twisted metallic vocal chords, designed specifically to instill fear in the enemy, pierced the air in the hangar with an unearthly screech which neither overwhelmed nor surrendered to its keeper’s voice but rather merged with it in a feral harmony.

*****

Blood spewed down the dog’s chin and through crevasses in its armor. It spit out a chunk of flesh with strands of muscle tangled in its reinforced teeth. As it stepped back from its prey, its pointed blades withdrew from within the dead footsoldier’s chest. The unit’s faceplate sizzled, burning away blood and viscera and turning its vision bright red for a moment. It let out a fierce howl, launching itself forwards with a speed unmatched by any two-legged infantry.

Just behind it, its handler finished off a tank pilot attempting to crawl away from its craft. The hound’s many sensors highlighted the remaining stragglers on the battlefield, and 2054 assessed the remaining threats as she ran. She spotted a wounded soldier training their scope onto her companion and raised her weapon, disintegrating the enemy’s face with a single clean blast. The hound bayed its gratitude before finishing its run, speeding between rocks and debris and eliminating the last few soldiers.

One, two, three, blood gushed from their chests as 1156 pounced on them, puncturing their lungs and tearing out their throats in quick succession. RDI-H.2054 watched and basked in the adrenaline - her brain had not been upgraded to manage her auxiliary’s entire suite of sensors, but they shared many core sensations. They both felt the rush of war, the warmth of blood on their faces, and most of all an immense wave of satisfaction and even euphoria. Nothing felt better than killing together - an entire battalion laid to waste at their hands gave them a jolt of dopamine that felt better than orgasm.

They were never awarded for their feats, nor did they feel the need for any such recognition. Deep in their programming they didn’t fight for any cause or nation, or even for their commanding officer. They fought merely to tear and bite alongside each other, to see the fear in their enemies’ eyes and feel their life drain out at the will of the hound of death and its handler.

Standing together in the remains of a decimated army, they surveyed their work. The air smelled of blood and the familiar scent of plasma-scorched air. 1156 playfully rammed its armored face into its handler’s chestplate, grunting and drooling red down her torso. She laughed and rubbed the top of its head, sending microscopic ripples of pleasure down its spine.

>GOOD JOB DARLING

[spewagepipe]

On the Origin of RPGs, Part 2

Careers is an unassuming 1955 board game that was seemingly designed as a direct reaction to the single-minded pursuit of wealth in Monopoly. Its designer, seeking to better reflect life's diverse pageantry, asks players to pursue happiness, fame, and wealth. It is also the only commercial board game with the distinction of having directly contributed to the advent of RPGs.

At the start of a game of Careers, players must secretly commit to earning an arbitrary combination of happiness points, fame points, and wealth points (with a sum of 60 in total). It's this idea – of players operating from secret agendas that are, potentially, totally unrelated to the goals of their opponents – that was bouncing around the mind of David Wesely as he was experimenting with Strategos' philosophy that, in a robust refereed simulation, "anything can be attempted".

In 1969, this admixture led to Wesely's magnum opus: Braunstein, the first formal game in human history that clearly qualifies as a Role-Playing Game in the modern sense. At first blush, Braunstein seemed a perfectly traditional kriegsspiel about a fictional Prussian city coming under French attack during the Napoleonic Wars. A "Prussian General" player would face off against a "French General" player, with Wesely acting as the vertrauter – just as I described it in Part 1.

But the twist, inspired by Careers, was this: several more players would participate in a range of non-military roles, like the town mayor and the chancellor of the local university. These players, too, would receive a secret briefing which would include secret victory conditions tailored to the nature of their role. Just like the generals, these players would privately inform Wesely of their intentions, and would thereafter receive private reports from him, briefing them on the evolving consequences of everyone's actions. It was an extremely novel, exciting concept that had Wesely's gaming circle chomping at the bit.

The result was a catastrophe.

So much buzz had built up around Wesely's Wild Ride that, on the night of the game, more than twice as many players showed up as the number of roles he had prepared, forcing him to improvise several new roles (and their victory conditions). After getting underway, the game almost immediately devolved into a quagmire of chaotic political maneuverings. Many of the orders he received from the players went completely outside the scope of what he had expected or prepared for. He frequently had no idea how the events that needed to unfold could possibly be simulated, and so he found himself inventing sloppy rulings on the spot. When Wesely was finally forced to call the game late that night, neither General had ever gotten around to issuing orders to their troops. None of it was what Wesely had wanted.

His players, by contrast, uniformly loved the experience.

Over the next few years, Braunstein became a term not just for that original scenario, but for a new genre of games created by Wesely and other members of his gaming circle, featuring dramatically charged scenarios in a range of settings. Perhaps the most famous of these, now, is Blackmoor – a "Braunstein" that was set in a medieval fantasy world.

[mysterycitrus]

How would you write the Court of Owls?

Also I am obsessed with persephone and your blog, I am chomping at the bit whenever I think of all the teasers you post about what's to come

ah ty! hopefully the finale sticks the landing hehehe

wrt court of owls - ig it really depends on what u want to achieve with the narrative. if i were to rewrite them, my priority would be stripping it of the blood libel trope, and removing their weird machiavellian plotting to create batman and robin.

the easiest fix in that regard would just be to make the talons regular ol' emotionally volatile undead, kinda like darkest night (derogatory). i already think that's an interesting dynamic - even ignoring the peanut gallery of dead parents, it could be a fun conversation of like... people who've died in gotham, and the idea of a legacy. maybe jason escaped this fate because he died in ethiopia. maybe steph escaped this fate because she was so quick to return to life. maybe some remnants of bludhaven get caught up in the crossfire. maybe bruce is forced to directly reconcile with his ghosts. maybe maybe maybe.

having talons possess autonomy that has simply been corrupted by their new state of being also allows for more interesting character beats than like... silent assassins who wear fun little hats. the owl motif is a slay, however that's really where my compliments end.

dick being a centrepoint could also be super interesting, but again - it cant be because his great great grand-icicle was a weirdo serial killer. "the gray son" being the stupidest part when his first name is dick is the most impressive thing good grief

i do also think that the idea of a maniacal secret society is done a lot more effectively in black mirror, hush or even gd batman year one tbh. there's not a lot to go on that hasn't been done a hundred times already, unless u make them realistic interpretations of the grotesquely rich. there is definitely space for that in the batman mythos rather than ghoulish phantoms in a sewer. give me more regular, normally evil oligarchs. get ollie to bully bruce about donating his money. it'd be funny.

[hanzajesthanza]

i’m going to need more time to digest everything that happened to geralt in crossroads

geralt walked directly into a wolf trap (yes. a wolf trap. you know. the kind with teeth) and got his ass beat to horrific, actually horrible proportions, barely surviving, he spent months in the hospital—i mean temple—where he was entirely bedridden and afterwards could not even look at where he had laid because it filled him with such dread

has this man’s life just been one entire incredibly traumatizing agony and lethal injury. i mean c’est la vie du sorceleur, but my god.

the worst part of all of this is that it’s entirely plausible and everything that happened in this novel pretty much fits geralt in the saga for his neutrality and caution of revenge. but wow uh. i mean kaer morhen bruises them all pretty badly and young witchers are no strangers to pain, but geralt basically stepped one foot out of that stronghold and got bitten, beaten, chomped, sliced, diced, and his ass kicked six ways from sunday. and he was still 18

the more i think about it, i think this is the male equivalent of all the horrors which were inflicted upon ciri.

insert larger conversation here about how, in sf/fantasy especially, inflicting The Horrors onto female characters typically = SA/pregnancy, whereas male characters don’t endure those topics nearly as often. and i would say as much as i like the “all power in the hands of women” epicness that andrzej sapkowski is usually on, how he treats male characters who are SAed, or rather, are SAed but in the narrative it’s sloughed away easily like dead skin, is probably one of his worst approaches to a serious subject and a bone i have to pick. … but anyhow

that is all to say: that probably the only worse thing that could have happened to geralt would have been SA, but since that is often saved for the women in sapkowski’s novels, this is actually as low as it could have gotten for him.

because, Grevious Bodily Injury, so grevious that it’s not only incredibly painful, but disabling, which is emasculating… interesting to think about it from this lens.

what geralt got put through here was worse than what vilgefortz did to him, which is saying something. and the agonizing and humiliating feeling of that was detailed more here too, the recovery process, rather than being shown through dandelion’s and milva’s eyes.

geralt really is this guy that just exists to get fucked up so bad and that’s the story