#got another warlord’s ruin in today

[lilyblisslys]

holy goddexx, please let me forget the dreadful purgatory of being stuck in a discord call with a bunch of straight boys who won’t stop quoting YouTube videos they’ve seen

[turtletaubwrites]

Numbers Game ~ Part 11

Now We Can Have Some Real Fun

Pairings: Cross Guild x Fem!Reader

Numbers Game Masterlist

Word Count: 4176

Ao3 Link

Ongoing Series Playlist: Youtube Music Link | Youtube Link

Summary: Another night with the Cross Guild reminds you of all the reasons why you should feel afraid, and all the reasons why you don't. Mihawk and Crocodile discuss your professional responsibilities.

Author's Note: I don't think my brain is attached to my body when I write about these bad men 🤷🏼‍♀️

Rating/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Swearing, Smut, Manipulation, Humiliation, Pet Names, Power Imbalance, Blood and Violence, Cross Guild boys are VILLAINS, Possessive Behavior, Dom Mihawk, Teasing, Threats, Arguing, Daddy Kink, PIV Sex, Unprotected Sex (be safe out there!), Creampie, Overstimulation, Hair-Pulling, Degradation, Orgasm Control, Choking

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

The smile that broke across your face sent chills over your skin, even under the dangerous hands that gripped you on either side. 

Buggy’s smile grew impossibly wide, his eyes flaring when he saw how he’d affected you. He looked truly happy for the first time in days as he leaned closer, reaching a gloved hand toward yours. Faded red lips parted, but his words died in his throat when a golden hook wrapped around it. 

“I said we’ll try not to hurt you,” Crocodile rasped, yanking his hook just slightly until Buggy gulped, his wide eyes reflecting that menacing face. “Don’t get handsy with our girl when you smell like trash.”

“You got it, boss. I’ll go take a shower!”

Buggy’s head floated up while he nodded, freeing himself from the deadly hook. He flew toward the door, leaving a floating hand to wave for a moment before he was gone. 

“That’s not what I– fucking clown,” Crocodile grumbled, his hand still gripped around your neck while you held your breath to keep from laughing. 

“He really is a fool, isn’t he,” Mihawk wondered aloud, swirling the wine in his glass while his free hand released your fingers. He touched your knee, the gesture innocent, until the pads of his fingers teased circles around your skin. “How’s my little bloodhound, hm?”

“Blood–”

“Yes, darling,” he hurried, handing you your own glass to sip. “You did well with our wine tasting the other night, and today you told me that I smell like– what was it… dirt, but sour?”

You coughed as wine burned down your throat, and Crocodile patted your back a bit too hard while he chuckled softly. 

“I’m not offended,” the swordsman teased, grabbing your chin to pull you his way. Those piercing eyes scraped your skin until he gave a small smile. “I surveyed the local soil this morning to determine the best crops for the area. It’s decent, but a bit acidic, hence the sour smell.”

Unable to comprehend anything he’d said, you couldn’t stop your lips from parting, your brows from creasing, or your whole face from looking stupid while you tried to translate his words.

“You like to garden,” Crocodile asked, that deep voice soft with surprise. 

“I took up farming during my stay on Kuraigana,” Mihawk cleared his throat, releasing your flustered face while he took a sip of that potent wine. “It's a very productive hobby.”

“I’m sure it is. I bet that blade of yours works wonders on those stubborn weeds.”

The larger man’s taunt sped your pulse. You wanted to be as far away as possible if these two ex-warlords ever fought.

“I am capable of killing plenty of things without dirtying Yoru. Just be sure to keep your dry skin away from my vegetables,” Mihawk scoffed, taking another long sip as Crocodile let out a hearty laugh.

After a few moments of what couldn't be sulking, Mihawk sighed, returning his attention to you. 

“How are you feeling, pet? Did mean ol’ Crocodile rough you up too much earlier? Did he ruin that sweet, little cunt of yours?”

His fingers slid up your thigh, pushing the hem of your dress higher while he checked in.

“Go easy on her.” 

That warning growl stilled Mihawk's hand for just a moment before he let out a piercing laugh.

“Says the man I had to rein in earlier. Did you end up tearing her pretty pussy to shreds anyway? Before our little treasure even picks a safe word?”

“Watch your—“

“I have a safe word,” you chirped, interrupting Crocodile for the second time today. They were both quiet, the silence making you itch.

“Why didn’t you tell us,” he questioned, those large fingers kneading your neck and shoulders.

“Well, you didn’t ask, and I didn’t think…”

“You didn’t think what, exactly,” Mihawk cut in, a dangerous tease in his words. “Didn’t think that two ex-warlords would care at all if their favorite toy got broken beyond repair?”

He kissed your cheek then, squeezing your thigh while he poured more of that wicked voice in your ear.

“Don’t worry, pet, I’ll break you as many times as I please. But if you don’t take good care of my things, we’ll have a very different kind of punishment.”

“You know we’ll take care of you,” Crocodile rasped, the cold metal of his hook smoothing over your cheek. “Tell us your word, but promise you’ll only use it when you need it, sweetheart. You know how I feel about liars.”

“I p-promise. It’s ‘hopscotch.”

“Perfect,” Mihawk nibbled on your ear before pulling away. “Now we can have some real fun.”

A cheerful tune came whistling through the door before it burst open. Buggy gleamed under the light in a set of red pajamas, his long blue hair braided over his shoulder leaving a damp stain against that clean fabric.

He’d donned a light version of his circus makeup, and it hurt your heart to think of how long it might be before you saw him without it again. 

“This clown is as clean as a whistle,” Buggy announced, winking at you while he dragged the velvet chair as close as possible. He plopped himself down, laying his legs across the coffee table to wiggle his blue-painted toes in front of your knees. 

You shoved a knuckle between your teeth after a snort slipped out of you, and Buggy sent a floating hand to tug gently on your earlobe. Your cheeks burned, and you had to close your eyes.

The past few days had ripped you away, and you’d been feeling frustrated before then. 

But Buggy could always make you laugh. 

“It's been a long day,” Mihawk drawled, ignoring the barefoot clown as he looked over your head at Crocodile. “I think I’ll help our little rabbit tuck in for the night. Come along, pet.”

He stood gracefully, and you took his offered hand, not knowing what he was truly offering. 

“I’ll join you shortly,” Crocodile said after a pause, eyeing the swordsman as he carried you toward the door.

“I’ll come–”

Glancing back, you saw that golden hook catch Buggy’s braid, forcing him to turn away from you. 

“We don’t need you waiting by the door tonight,” the larger man chuckled, his deep voice following you through the air into the hallway. 

Mihawk’s hands felt electric as he held you, the chaste touch somehow tearing through your body.

How can he make every little thing feel so fucking filthy?

He hummed to himself as if he’d heard your thought, carrying you into Crocodile’s suite. You spun while he hung up his fancy coat, noting all the changes the suite had gone through since this morning, only stopping to watch Mihawk pull a few items from a wardrobe that hadn’t been there before. 

“Join me for a shower,” he asked lightly, tapping your nose. “I couldn’t bear to make my pet sleep with the scent of sour dirt tonight.”

“Okay,” you coughed to hide a laugh, still not sure how to act around this stoic man who didn’t seem so stoic around you.

Deadly hands undressed you, tracing your skin softly, just enough to make you sigh. Standing on that fluffy bath mat again with his nude body so close had you curling your toes, and you couldn't look away while he started the water.

“Here, darling,” he ordered, handing you a shower cap before brushing a few strands from your face. “It would be a shame to dull this pretty hair by overwashing it. Do you think those high society clients would still respect my little rabbit if she’s not as shiny as she was?”

“I don’t–”

Cruel fingers fisted into your hair, stretching your neck to the side while his tongue teased along that vulnerable flesh. You moaned as you clung to his sides, trying to stay on your feet while he guided toward the shower. He released you, his harsh grip followed with a gentle touch as he helped you put the cap on, tucking stray strands inside. 

Mihawk pulled you under that perfectly hot water, making your eyes roll back as he began to wash your skin. No touch was overtly sexual, but each one was sensual, leaving your body tingling, muscles relaxing under his attention. 

You’d almost forgotten what he’d been talking about.

“What will they think of their perfect numbers girl now that she’s my filthy pet? The Cross Guild’s pretty little slut?”

Blinking a few times to get your heavy lidded eyes to work, you found him waiting for you. Watching him spread suds across his unreal body almost took your mind away again.

“Some of them will judge me,” you started, meeting his searing gaze through the steam. “They’ll think I’m stupid, or crazy, or a whore.”

“Maybe all three,” he mused. You cut him off before the next words could leave his lips. 

“Most of them will be jealous.”

His lips quirked just slightly, and he pulled you under the water again, leaving a wet kiss on your lips as the soap rinsed away. 

“Why would they be jealous of you, Y/N,” he rasped when he wrapped a warm towel around you. Your name on his lips sent fear through your veins, making you question your answer, but you knew you could never lie to him. 

“I think they’re just as bored as I was, if not more. That’s why it’s so easy to convince them to throw money at ridiculous things. Why they all have stupid, petty skeletons in their closets. They’re boring people with boring lives, and they would kill for a little adventure, if they weren’t such fucking cowards. So instead of living, they just pay an obscene amount of berry to rub shoulders with little danger now and then.”

You ended your rant with a shrug, hanging the towel up to dry while the swordsman studied your every movement.

He left you in silence again, handing you a white linen top while you tried not to burn to ash under his molten gaze. Thankfully, you got you got distracted by watching him pull on burgundy pajama pants, the silky fabric doing nothing to dull the gleam of his still bare chest. 

“Is this yours,” you asked, finally pulling the white fabric over your head. It felt very piratey, and you tugged at the laces to close the wide gap over your chest, bouncing on your toes while you looked at your reflection. He wrapped himself around your back, meeting your eyes in the mirror. 

“It is. Let’s–”

“I didn’t think you owned any shirts.”

Your eyes went wide as the words left your lips, adrenaline buzzing through you at the feel of his fingers pressing into your skin. 

“I’m sorry, I–” 

“You are a brave little rabbit, aren’t you,” he whispered, kissing your temple before leading you by the hand. “Let’s get some rest. You’ve got a party to plan tomorrow.”

“Oh,” you nodded, watching him pull the blankets aside for you to climb onto the massive bed. He smirked as he joined you, his heat giving you chills when he pulled your back against his chest. His breath tickled your neck, and you melted into him as his deep hum vibrated through you. 

Each touch was gentle, almost lazy, as if those strong fingers were writing a lullaby on your skin. There was no push, just a soft pull toward relaxation, a call to join him in sleep. 

Yet whimpers fell from your lips, your body writhing against his until he let out a low chuckle, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

“Is there something you need, rabbit?”

That voice sent your eyes rolling back, the hidden promise and threat in his words adding to the need dripping between your legs. He traced his nails along your thigh, and you moaned just from the feel of him that close. 

“Mm, what’s this,” he taunted as his fingers dragged through all that slick. Your back arched, his featherlight touch over where you ached for him forcing a whine from you. “So desperate for me. And I thought you’d be too sore. Or are you that much of a cockslut, Y/N?”

He blocked your greedy hand from reaching back for him, digging those just-gentle fingers into your arm while you whined.

“Use your words,” he chided, clicking his tongue. “Does my precious little whore want to get fucked?”

Legs shaking as you whimpered, your needy “yes” was barely audible. Your next breath came in a gasp as Mihawk shifted, wrapping his arm underneath you. It curled around you until his fingers gripped your throat, forcing you back against his chest.

“I didn’t fucking hear you, slut,” he growled as he pressed his silk covered cock against your ass. “Be a good pet, and beg for what you want.”

“Please, fuck me, sir–”

Your strained plea ended with a moan, Mihawk’s free hand pushing that silk out of the way. He choked you harder when he entered you, before wrapping his free hand around your hip to attack your clit.

“Mihawk…” 

“Such a lovely whore, screaming my name so well.”

His vicious praise, his calculated thrusts, and his wicked fingers around your throat sent you into chaos, spasming in his arms. He loosened the pressure on your neck as you came down, but kept everything else going. You twitched as he played with your clit, the pleasure almost too much before he slowed all of his movements.

“I understand why you want Crocodile,” the swordsman drawled, giving you just enough pleasure to make you whimper. “I saw how quickly you gave in this morning. You enjoyed being punished.”

“Mhm,” you admitted, moaning when he rewarded you with another squeeze to your throat.

“And somehow, that fool clown makes you laugh so much that you keep putting yourself in harm's way for him. But if all you want is a floating cock, I’ve got plenty of toys you can fuck without all that risk,” he chuckled as your body tensed. Then he gave you what you needed, hitting against that perfect spot inside you over and over until you forgot everything but him.

“That’s alright, little rabbit. I intend to remain your favorite.”

“What…” you breathed out, almost lost again.

“Shh, darling, you know how well I can read you. Mm, how’s that, pet,” he checked in.

“You feel so good.”

“You know I can make you feel good. So good that your body will crave my touch, even when your other lovers make you scream.”

One more thrust, one more touch of those fingers, and you would be screaming for him again. 

Instead, you almost sobbed as he went still. 

“But you’ll have to earn it. Be a good little rabbit for me, or I might even keep the others from offering relief,” he threatened in your ear. You could feel his cock pulsing inside you, and you fought the urge to fuck yourself onto him. 

“How many hours… How many days could you take it, hm? Maybe we should test it out, just to be sure.”

“N-no, please, sir.”

“Mm, such a well-mannered pet you are. Keep begging.”

You did.

You kept begging, even as your voice struggled through his choking grasp, and through the next orgasm he ripped from you.

“My hungry, little vixen,” he purred, kicking off that burgundy silk as he rolled you onto your stomach. He forced a pillow beneath your hips before his thrusts went mean. Your fingers twisted into the sheets, the overwhelm still too delicious for you to care. His breath against your hair made your eyes roll white as he propped himself up over your back. 

“Do you want to be a good pet for me,” he teased, his own voice finally straining.

“Yes,” you whined, almost there again, your body nearly done. A small part of you heard the door open, but the rest of you shattered at Mihawk's next words, and his harsh fingers ripping into your hair.

“Then take my come, you filthy slut… Mm, such a pretty whore, milking my cock on command. Fuck...”

Mihawk’s moans were just as intoxicating as his evil words, and you became nothing but pleasure with the pain. Your toes curled as hot ropes of come filled you, but he didn’t stop. He kept fucking his come into you, grunting softly while you whimpered beneath him, drool staining your lips. 

“That’s enough.”

Your body tightened at Crocodile’s low voice, making the swordsman’s cock twitch inside you, until you were gasping and squirming again.  

“You should be proud, Crocodile,” he teased, kissing down your back as he pulled out of you. He helped you roll over, smirking while he spread you open, showing off his work that was dripping slowly through your folds. “Our numbers girl is so obedient.”

“You’re not a whore, Y/N.”

Blinking up at that scarred face, you couldn’t fight the hazy fog of confusion while your body still twitched. 

“Don’t be so pedantic,” Mihawk scoffed, kissing along your jaw. “She wanted to be our whore, didn’t you, Y/N? Go ahead and tell your daddy what a cockslut you–”

“Enough.”

The command stopped your breath, and the shift in Mihawk’s body made your blood run cold.

Fuck, please don’t fight. 

Your golden-eyed lover sat up, but kept a possessive hand on your thigh, fingers smearing his pleasure down your skin.

“If I had known you weren’t good at sharing toys–”

“Y/N has other uses. If you can’t treat her as anything but a whore, then we should–”

Mihawk stood, his nude form facing off with Crocodile at the foot of the bed while you held your breath. 

“We should what? Let the poor thing suffer all alone with her dainty fingers every night? I’m sure she'd prefer being our whore over that. And why the sudden morality, Crocodile,” Mihawk challenged, sauntering toward the wall to lean uncomfortably close to Yoru. “Did you find religion in that hungry cunt this morning?”

You sat up, clutching at the loose, linen shirt to cover your chest, ignoring the sticky mess between your thighs. Crocodile cracked his neck, pale eyes flicking toward your movement. 

“We promised that she’d be our girl, and that we’d take care of her. She’s got more talents than that, and I won’t have you treating her like some cheap whore to toss out when you’re bored.”

Even naked, Mihawk was frightening, danger like lightning under his skin, ready to strike at any moment. He let out another sharp laugh, rolling his eyes.

“It’s just a word, Crocodile, I’d never toss out our little treasure. I’m surprised at what a prude you are,” he chuckled, moving toward you, but still not far enough from his sword for your liking. “Did you like it when I called you that, Y/N? Did you enjoy getting fucked like a whore?”

A tiny, pathetic sound left your throat, and his satisfied look made you shiver before you glanced up at Crocodile's unreadable face. 

“Answer him, sweetheart,” his gravelly voice coaxed, nodding at your choked out “yes.” He turned back to the smug swordsman, taking a single step, his long legs bringing him too close.

“Y/N’s our numbers girl, our financial advisor, and she’ll need to be taken seriously if this guild is gonna make any berry. If you disrespect her in front of anyone besides me or the clown, we will have a problem.”

“There it is,” Mihawk smirked, his chin lifting even higher as he returned the larger man’s glare. “Our overgrown lizard didn’t fall in love after all. I wonder how many people you’d whore her out to if it’d net you more ber—”

Your scream felt quiet compared to the clash of hook against sword. 

The ex-warlords seethed, sword cleaving through empty air as flesh turned to sand, their venomous words lost to your ears while you struggled to move. 

You wanted to run, to hide, to beg them to stop fighting over you.

They’re not fighting over me. They’re fighting for control. 

That thought slowed your breathing, fear growing sickly sweet in your gut. Even with all the danger, you had started to feel safe, a naïve part of you had believed all their promises. 

But what if I stop being useful?

The door cracked open, panicked blue eyes watching the first slow tears fall down your frozen cheeks. Until warm fingers wiped them away. 

The noise of the fight still echoed through the room, but your mind was gone from it as two disembodied hands held you under your arms, lifting you into the air. Buggy nodded reassuringly as he floated you toward him, shouldering the door open for you to fit through. His handless arms were outstretched, waiting to catch you, but his hands almost dropped you when the door slammed shut. 

Sand had hit the door, shifting into that daunting form. Crocodile’s breathing was heavy as he scowled down at you.

“Where were you off to, little rabbit,” came Mihawk’s taunting voice, breathing against the back of your neck.

“I’m sorry," you stuttered, quivering in the air, "I wasn’t–”

“It’s my fault, I was taking her! She looked scared, that’s all, Y/N didn’t ask–”

Crocodile opened the door, dragging Buggy inside by his braid, bringing the clown within reach. 

So you reached for him. 

“Buggy…” you gave one quiet sob, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. You breathed him in as he returned his hands, holding you close.

The embrace lasted longer than you thought it would, and you melted into him, until anxiety hit. Opening your eyes, you caught Crocodile watching you, touching your damp cheek with a finger while he shook his head.

“Didn’t mean to scare ya, sweetheart. I promised we’d take care of you, alright?”

You nodded over Buggy’s shoulder, his own breathing ragged as he pressed you against his chest. Your other lover came into view, standing close to his recent opponent while he trailed gentle fingers through your hair.

“Don’t fret, darling, I just like to play. You know I’ll protect what’s mine,” he promised, his head tilting when you nodded for him.

The four of you stayed like that, your heart the only thing that seemed to move. Buggy held you tight, while Mihawk and Crocodile stared down into your wide eyes. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Mihawk finally broke the spell, guiding Buggy to carry you to the bathroom, cleaning up the mess between your thighs. He didn’t even tease you, just kissed your forehead when he checked in. “Will you feel safer if the clown stays with us tonight?”

It felt like a dangerous question, but you were too tired to lie. 

“Yes.”

Buggy’s surprised hum made your eyes flutter closed, until you were set down on that huge bed. Crocodile kissed your temple while Buggy slid in on your other side, with Mihawk wrapping his arm around the clown to reach you. You were curled against Buggy’s chest, and with Crocodile wrapped around your back, you were embraced by three ex-warlords all at once. 

The blanket was replaced with a sheet, but even then, you wondered if you’d wake up on fire from the heat of all their bodies.

The giggle that escaped your lips at that thought shocked you, and brought soft noises from your three lovers. Buggy kissed your hair, Mihawk’s fingers traced a few slow circles along your side, while Crocodile’s deep voice rolled over you. 

“Feeling alright, sweet girl?”

That slowly shrinking part of your brain tried to convince you that you should be terrified. That tonight was more proof of the danger you’re in. That you should run for your life, run away from the Cross Guild at the first chance you got.

But being held like this, feeling their warmth, and melting into the intoxicating scent of all three of them made your fear fade into nothing. 

“I feel good,” you confessed, letting yourself drift into dreams, with three living anchors to guide your way.

~

“Mm, pretty…”

“Bugs,” you sighed, shifting beneath the press of heat around you. Buggy groaned as he rutted against your thigh, but you couldn’t writhe under the weight of so many arms. 

“I wonder what clowns dream of to get their dicks so hard. It has to be our little rabbit.”

Mihawk’s hand had trailed down your side, brushing against that hard length. You were wide awake now, but still trapped, Crocodile’s low chuckle sending shivers over your skin while Buggy woke with a yelp.

“Good morning! I’ll just–” Buggy choked out, body tensing as he looked back and forth between the other men. He tried to float away, but his head got yanked back, his braid caught beneath your shoulder, and Mihawk’s arm that was wrapped around him squeezed tighter until he stilled. 

“I don’t believe this clown asked for permission to rub his cock all over our little rabbit, did he?”

“No, he didn’t.”

Likes, comments, and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you!!

a/n: Lol, sorry about Buggy getting his braid caught 3 times in this chapter. I had super long hair for years (lower back to mid thigh), and used to get stuck everywhere 😅 Poor Buggy, our lil clown is trapped again

Tag List: @shewrites02 | @caniseethefourthsword | @hey-august | @chaoticqueen33 | @destinationmars | @novakitten0901 | @h0n3y-l3m0n05 | @dorky-birdie | @szired | @pinejayy | @laws-wife-things | @jadeddangel | @gingernut1314 | @urlocaltwink | @blue-rae18

Part 12

Operation Olive Branch has compiled a working spreadsheet of ways to help families fleeing from the genocide in Palestine. If you enjoyed this fic, and are able, please click the link to find a list of GoFundMe's, as well as other ways to help.

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

[officialleehadan]

Torn Silk and Blood

Hello darlings and welcome to PROMPT MONTH! It's the first, and you know what that means! It's time to get this party started!

Today's story was brought to you by Cjessie! Thank you so much for all your support!

Prompt: To Build an Empire

+++

“Dominik!” Cuira shrieked as someone much stronger than her hauled her backwards. Dominik lunged for her but came up short when two more people, men, closed in between him and Cuira. Cuira struggled against whoever had ahold of her and her mind whirled. They wouldn’t hurt her, but if they got her out of the room, the snipers would have a clear shot at Dominik. “No!”

“Let her go, and I will not spill your blood across this floor,” Dominik said, all his teasing good humor cone under a mask of icy fury. “This was to be a peace treaty. I would not have my Empress’s hard work ruined.”

“The galaxy will be plenty peaceful without you!” the man behind Cuira said defiantly. He didn’t sound afraid, which was foolish. Cuira could already see the way Dominik’s eyes glinted with the nanites in his blood. She might not know what he could do, but she was certain it involved a great deal of violence. “It was foolish to come here! The Great Wave Nebula does not recognize a nobody warlord as our master!”

Dominik growled, low in his throat, and drew the sword from his hip in one hand, and his blaster in the other. The aides around them had scattered back even as their guards converged on him, ready to back up their emperor. Nern and Hakavid blistered the air with their curses. This was very probably their plot, but it had clearly gotten out of control already.

Cuira was not supposed to be here. She was a complication they could not afford, in a situation they could not control.

Dominik couldn’t kill them without a reason. She was an empress, valuable, but not irreplaceable, and they were barely allies. He could not save her life, or his own, at the cost of the mighty war that would come without the peace treaty.

Something had to be done, quickly.

This was not going to be pleasant.

The man behind her had one hand wrapped around her waist and the other around one of her wrists. Cuira wasn’t any kind of a fighter, and he hadn’t done her harm yet, so she couldn’t do much, but she could certainly make herself difficult to hold onto. It wasn’t her first kidnapping, and while she couldn’t fight, she knew a fair bit about being a difficult captive.

The perils of a culture where women did not fight is that her captor was expecting her to come quietly.

Cuira waited for her captor to take another step back, and then threw all her weight to one side. The man cursed, off-balance, and struggled to hold her. His grip gave out under her weight, at a bad angle to keep holding her, and Cuira let herself fall.

She had been dancing since she was a child. She knew how to slip without hurting herself, and how to land a fall with barely a bruise to show for it.

She chose not to land well.

The table sported long, curling decorations of polished metal. They weren’t sharpened, but the elegant spikes caught and tore through her flowing gown with an overly-loud snarl of rending silk. Cuira’s vision swam when her head caught the stone corner of the table hard enough to black her vision for a long moment. Blood spattered to the floor from the place she had hit, a shallow gash, but one that bled all out of proportion to its size.

There was a moment of absolute silence, and then, almost at the same time, Dominik lunged forward. His sword flashed in one hand, and his blaster cracked in the other. Someone screamed, just out of Cuira’s red-tinted sight as she pressed a hand to her head and tried to stem the blood. Before the men around her even had a chance to fall, Dominik whirled again and fired twice more. There were a pair of screams from the rafters, and the sound of shattering mosaic.

The snipers, it seemed, were dead.

The sound of bodies hitting the floor seemed very loud in the horrified silence.

Gentle hands landed on Cuira and she swiped out half-blind before she realized it was Dominik, the fury replaced by overwhelming worry.

“How bad is it?” he asked lowly as their aides surrounded them, heavily-armed and every bit as furious as their emperor. Dominik ignored them in favor of pulling out a handkerchief she didn’t know he had. “Cuira, let me see.”

“I have blood down my face. It ruined my makeup,” Cuira told him, somewhat dazed and a little dizzy. She hadn’t hit her head all that hard, but the terror of the last few moments caught up to her all at once and she swayed on her feet. Her world tilted and she was worried she was about to faint, before she realized that Dominik had lifted her into his arms once more. She held onto him with the hand that wasn’t pressed to her bleeding head. “Oh. You’re very strong.”

“It’s the nanites,” he told her when he had seated her on a comfortable, and well-protected bench against one wall. He pulled her blood-soaked sleeve away from her forehead, took a quick look at the still-bleeding cut, and held the handkerchief to it carefully. “It’s not a large cut. A little antiseptic and it won’t even scar.”

“Oh good. Nobody wants a noble girl with a facial scar.”

She was maybe not making the most sense, but between the belated panic and the head-wound, she thought maybe that was alright.

“I would,” Dominik told her softly, and checked under the handkerchief again before he lowered his voice to a whisper. “How much are you playing this up?”

“I am very much terrified, definitely panicking, but probably not concussed,” Cuira reported back and debated with herself before she let herself lean into him. He took her weight easily. “If they don’t sign the treaty after this, I vote we shoot them somewhere very painful.”

He snorted something that might be a laugh in better circumstances and looked away to catch the eye of someone she couldn’t see.

“Sign the damned treaty,” he said, every inch the outraged emperor, hovering worriedly over his beloved, injured empress. “And give me one good reason not to assume you will betray me the moment I leave this worthless planet.”

Nern stuttered, somewhat frantic, and probably genuinely terrified for his life. Cuira stole a look over at them and saw that Hakavid had gone absolutely sheet white, and was utterly silent.

Maybe they hadn’t known about this plot.

Damn it all, she was going to have to fix this or there would be a war, treaty or no treaty.

“Summon Princess Hindera,” she commanded, weaker than she liked, since the panic was still very much a weight on her chest, even with Dominik there, angry and protective. “She will return to the Quasar with us. You may be assured that her treatment in our care will be far kinder than my treatment in yours.”

“What?” Nern squeaked, abruptly horrified by the very suggestion. Small wonder. Hindera was only fifteen. Too young for the alliance marriage he surely expected she was suggesting. “She is-“

“To join my ladies, not to wed my husband as a lesser wife,” Cuira cut him off with no patience for the dance of diplomacy. Her head hurt and she wanted to get back to the Quasar. “Our assurance of your good behavior in the future. Her continued safety will be in your hands.”

“But-“

“This is not a suggestion, Nern. You may accept my terms, or you may accept my husband’s.”

Dominik straightened, his hands on her gentle, but his glare sharp enough to cut when he leveled it on the Nebula’s political group.

“My solution will be to destroy you, and burn your civilization to the ground. You will be an example to every other system who thinks to try my patience,” he bit out through gritted teeth. “I advise that you accept the chance at mercy my Empress has offered you. There will not be another.”

Nern and Hakavid shared a long, nervous gaze between them, in the way of long-married couples, and came to a decision without a word between them. Hakavid turned to one of his aids, the picture of a man with no other choice.

“Inform Princess Hindera,” he said desolately, wrecked at the thought of his beloved daughter leaving so abruptly into the care of those he barely knew. “It seems she is to join the ladies of Empress Cuira aboard the Quasar. Inform her staff and ready her for travel. The peace treaty will be signed by the time she is ready to leave.”

+++

To Build an Empire:

Garden Dome (Subscriber Only!)

Claxon Call

First Name Basis

Arrangement of Nobles (Subscriber Only!)

Of Adamant

Cross an Ocean (Subscriber Only!)

The Second Challenge (Subscriber Only!)

Snacks and Snipers

Torn Silk and Blood (New!)

+++

MASTERLIST

[jonnyparable]

Around the World

When I got Bon Voyage, I thought of the possibilities of the game's vacation mechanics, with the locals, and the ability to create from scratch and saw an opportunity to create overseas adventures and storylines for my Sims. I'll say that my vacation worlds are very much inspired by the Tin Tin books, and are all preserved in this early 20th century amber, and I thought I'd talk about them in greater detail today :)

Left to right:

I created only one first, the Simalayas, as part of my game's story, and then Shang Tao, part of another story, but also involving a character's origins. Then Simbayang I created purely for fun and as one of my character's hometown and Saqhaba, which I'm still rebuilding came last. Saqhaba is pretty essential to the story, and will set up the return of a long lost character too. Below are the locals in their finery, along with a little history and background of each locale.

The Simalayas

The icy peaks of the Simalayas have drawn intrepid Sims from all over, some seeking adventure, and some seeking to find the meaning of life, pool ladders and Plumbobs, in the many monasteries that dot the mountainside. The largest of which is known as An-Payoda, built along a massive chasm, which was created, according to legends, after Tiger Claw, or Namdol-Mud, an ancient mythical hero, split the mountain range, seperating the town from a monster known as the Yarra, who had been terrorising the mountainside. The monastic town has few visitors, being so remote and so high up in the mountains. Getting here is often dangerous and the few guides who bring travellers here are very costly. The head monk of the monastery is wary of outsiders and is protective of the mountain's many secrets.

Shang Tao

The small and remote fishing village of Shang Tao was once home to a powerful warlord known as the Dragonlord. Under his protection, Shang Tao was an important center for trade in the region. Today the town is but a sad shadow of its former self. Following the assassination of the Dragonlord, the island was beset by a mysterious plague of unknown origin and consequently overwhelmed by pirates who now control the island. The largest group, known as the Black Tigers, runs a gambling den on the island, and have turned the town into a hotbed of seed. Nowadays, the island is believed to be cursed, and hapless travellers and passing ships are often robbed by members of the Black Tiger gang. The kind and beleaguered locals therefore urge any waylaid visitors or travellers they come across to leave as quickly as they can.

Simbayang

The island paradise of Simbayang is home to some of the friendliest and happiest people. The islanders are deeply spiritual, and the small island has many majestic temples built on various important sites. The volcanic island also has several hot springs along its peak, and recent archaeological digs have also uncovered the existence of a major ancient civilization here, located deep in the jungle. The island is today a little touristy, and was never really the same after a large resort was built on the sacred mountain. While the island has much to offer visitors, the endless stream of tourists has also brought pollution and destruction to the local marine life, and the locals are beginning to chafe against the commercialization of their culture and heritage. One local, Dr. Widyana Kawanto, fought against the construction of the resort and the rampant over-tourism of the island, but she has been missing for years now. Most locals suspect foul play.

Saqhaba

Located along the blessed waters of the River Nerine, Saqhaba has always been a glittering oasis in the desert. The small kingdom of Saqhaba has drawn Sims across the centuries to its fertile banks, to get a glimpse of the partially buried ruins of civilizations past, which have only just recently been excavated. The region has therefore today become synonymous with archaeology, adventure and treasure. As the surrounding region devolved into political instability, the rulers of Saqhaba turned to wealthy investors and real estate tycoons in a bid to keep the economy and therefore, monarchy, intact. The difference, however, between the quality of life for the locals and the wealthy foreigners is slowly becoming glaringly unsustainable, and dissent has been growing amongst the local populace.

[ikeromantic]

Old Friends, New Adventures

A Mitsuhide Akechi fanfic - this scene occurs post-Romantic epilogue. Approx. 2200 words of fluff and stuff.

First: Mitsuhide and the Maiden

Previous: My Home is Your Home

Mitsuhide was expecting to see Sarutobi. Afterall, he had invited the ninja and arranged the trip to align with the . . . worm hole. Instead, it was Ranmaru waiting for them downstairs. His wide smile and bright gaze made the warlord suspicious. He watched through narrowed eyes as his fiance bounded down the stairs and threw her arms around Ranmaru in greeting.

“It’s good to see you! Is everything ok?” She let go to look him in the face.

Ranmaru laughed. “I was about to say the same thing!” He took her hands. “I just had to come say hi when I realized this was where -” his gaze shifted to Mitsuhide. “Akechi ran off with you to.”

“We didn’t run off!” She pulled her hands out of his grip, clearly remembering Mitsuhide’s advice. “Anyway, I thought you were staying in Azuchi. Did you come all the way here to visit me?”

“Yes, why are you here,” Mitsuhide added.

Ranmaru took them both in with his wide, guileless eyes. “Oh! I suppose you left before Nobunaga announced it! I am taking a message to Kyoto for him.” He leaned forward and whispered theatrically. “It’s top secret.”

Mitsuhide did not believe the page. There were countless messengers for most letters and for important correspondence, there was no way Nobunaga would entrust that to Ranmaru. He needed to see this letter. With his crescent moon smile in place, the kitsune replied. “In that case, I must offer you my hospitality tonight. I’ll have a guest room set up for you.”

He expected Ranmaru to argue, and had already prepared several potential counter-arguments. None of them were needed. The page bowed. “Thanks, Mitsuhide! That’s really nice of you!”

His reaction almost made the warlord second guess himself. Was this what Ranmaru wanted all along? And if so, why? But he couldn’t ask. He just smiled and nodded to his castle staff. They would know what room to put the page in. It had thick walls and no windows. A secure door that could slide into place from the outside, turning the room into a cell. Mitsuhide would have answers from the page one way or another.

“Would you like to join us, Ranmaru? We’re going to visit the town and then have dinner here at the castle.” The chatelaine glanced at Mitsuhide to make sure this was alright.

“No, no. I’ll just head up to my room for a nap. I ran all the way here and I’m pretty tired.” The page wrinkled his nose. “I know you two want some alone time, anyway. But maybe we can have dinner together before I leave. That would be nice.”

Mitsuhide’s smile widened. Miyake could keep tabs on Ranmaru and maybe that would reveal all he needed to know. They said their goodbyes and left the page in good hands.

Outside the castle, the wind picked up. On the horizon, grey storm clouds billowed and boiled. There was a charge in the afternoon air that set teeth on edge. Even grown men looked askance at the shadows under trees and the darkness between close-packed buildings. It felt like the town was waiting for something.

The chatelaine noticed the brewing storm and frowned. “Do you think we’ll get rained on?”

Mitsuhide shook his head. “If a storm blows through while we are out, we can stop in a shop until it passes. This isn’t the season for heavy rains.” Still, he felt the strange currents in the cool breeze. His hand settled on his sword hilt and for just a moment, he thought of bringing the tanegashima. But this was not a battlefield and he was confident he could handle whatever came.

Many of the town’s residents still remembered the battle at Enryaku-ji, and they regarded their new lord with a wary respect. It was obvious in the way their gaze skittered to the side. How they answered every question with care. His little mouse noticed.

Her smiles were gentle and her compliments many. Mitsuhide could not help but be impressed at the way she set people at ease in her presence. She would make an excellent partner, he thought. One that could balance his strength and weakness. He didn’t notice the proud smile that turned his lips up or the warmth in his eyes as he watched her.

It was early evening when the sullen sky began to loose fat, wet rain drops. They fell in a slow but steady patter, creating little streams down the sides of buildings. The street sellers packed up their wares and people ducked into homes and shops to wait out the storm. Mitsuhide and his little one tucked themselves under the eaves of a closed shop.

“Do you want to stop by the inn for some warm sake before we go home?” Mitsuhide had to lean close to be heard over the rain on the rooftop.

She smiled and nodded. “Just one for me though. I can’t drink like you do.”

Mitsuhide grinned, wondering what she would say if she knew he didn’t drink as much as he seemed to. A man needed to have some secrets though. He grasped her hand and together they ran out under the rain, across the street and down two doors to the building with bright lanterns and music.

The inn here was always busy. It was a waystation for merchants between Kyoto and Azuchi. A natural place to stop and rest. Today was no exception. With the storm outside, the inn’s benches were packed from one side to the other. Mostly with merchants and their guards. A few townspeople, and some of the evening ladies who walked between tables looking for the most advantageous company.

One of the servers recognized Mitsuhide as they walked in, and hurried over. In moments, they were seated in a private room, hidden from the common area by deftly painted screens. Another server arrived with a tray of warm sake and onigiri.

“For you, my lord.” Both servers bowed low. It seemed they remembered his comment last time about preferring easy to eat foods.

“My betrothed would like -” Mitsuhide began, but she shook her head.

“No, this is fine. I’m not that hungry right now.”

Mitsuhide raised an eyebrow but nodded agreeably. “Thank you. You may go.”

Both men ducked out quickly, as if afraid the kitsune warlord might change his mind.

“They really seem afraid of you,” the chatelaine frowned after them. “I wish they knew how good and kind you really are.”

“Don’t go ruining my reputation, little mouse. I worked hard on it.” Mitsuhide laughed, but he was only half joking. “Let them see you as the kind and gentle Akechi, and continue to believe I am the monster.”

“But-”

Mitsuhide shook his head. “It is what must be. For now, at least.”

She looked as if she wanted to argue but after a moment, she smiled. “Alright. I know it is necessary, but I will look forward to the day I can introduce the Mitsuhide I know to all of them.”

He felt his cheeks heat at her sweet words and the look of adoration she wore. It never ceased to amaze him how precious she could be. To hide his unwieldy emotions, he turned his head to look at the screens. “Are you going to pour the sake or keep chattering away, little mouse?”

“Ooh that got to you,” she giggled. “I can see red in your cheeks!”

“You had best pour me a drink before I decide to return the favor,” he murmured. His tone had turned more husky than brusque. He hated the way she made him reveal his heart to her. It was impossible to hide from her.

“Alright, alright.”

Mitsuhide felt her move, heard the delicate clink of porcelain. He tried to focus on details to calm the fast beat of his heart and the warmth in his face. It wasn’t working very well. All he could think of was getting his love back to their room in the castle and peeling every stitch of fabric from her. With his teeth.

“You know, Nobunaga asked me once to serve him sake from my lips . . .”

Wide-eyed, Mitsuhide’s head snapped around to look at her. She was holding his sake cup in her hands. While he watched, she put it to her mouth and tipped it just enough to leave a trace of wine on her lips.

It was too much. First the sweetness and now this bold flirtation. Mitsuhide pulled her to him and kissed her. The rice wine blended with the taste of her, a heady alcohol to the drunkenness of his love.

She was vibrant and alive against him, her body warm, her hands caressing his back. Her lips moved against his, savoring the kiss. A breathy moan lost itself between them.

Mitsuhide might have done more, had they not been interrupted. Again. An embarrassed cough from a silhouette behind the painted screen. He broke their kiss reluctantly and turned his head to face the door. “Yes?”

Miyake poked his head in, cheeks stained red, eyes bright with held laughter. “Ehm. Sorry to interrupt your . . drink.”

“I assume this is an emergency?” The warlord’s tone was not amused.

“Maybe?” Miyake shrugged. “The page disappeared from his room. He is not in the castle and no one has seen him in the town. I have some men out looking for him. In fact, I’m on my way to join them. But I wanted to bring you this - in case it’s important.” He held out an envelope.

Mitushide took it. His expression remained one of calm annoyance, but inside he was a tumult of emotion. Worry for his little one, concern for the Oda forces, and even for Ranmaru. It was hard to play the traitor, harder still to be one. The envelope was sealed and on the front, it was addressed to the chatelaine.

She looked at it curiously. “Why do you suppose Ranmaru ran off? You think he’s in such a big hurry? And why did he leave me a letter? He could have just said goodbye in person.”

“I hope the letter will enlighten us.” Mitsuhide broke the seal and unfolded the paper. It held just three words.

I am sorry.

“What do you suppose that means?” The chatelaine looked anxious and confused.

Her naivete was endearing, but there were times Mitsuhide wished she was more suspicious.

Miyake snorted. “Pretty sure he’s not apologizing for missing dinner.” He turned around at the sound of a disturbance in the common room. Benches being pushed across the floor, shouts of alarm, and the stomp of running feet.

A ball of ice solidified in Mitsuhide’s belly. He hadn’t thought the ninja would act so soon - nor so precipitously. And now . . . he stood up. “Let’s see what is going on.”

The three of them pushed past the milling crowd and out into the rainy street. Across Lake Awaumi, red flames reflected against the steel grey sky. A fire big enough that even from this distance, they could smell the char of wood.

“Is that Azuchi,” his little mouse asked in a small voice.

“You can bet your best slippers, my lady.” Miyake’s face was set in a hard smile. One that promised violence to come.

“It appears, my little one, that our vacation has been cut short. We must return to Azuchi tonight.” Mitsuhide hugged her, taking comfort as much as giving it. The peace he’d hoped for was short lived, and now there was work to be done.

Above them, the storm rumbled and the rain began to fall in earnest. In moments, the fires across the lake were no more than a red glimmer barely seen through the wall of falling water. There was no sound but the rushing rain and the thunder.

Mitsuhide, Miyake, and the chatelaine fled back toward Sakamoto Castle to gather what they needed to return to Azuchi.

A figure collided with them in the street. Miyake stumbled and almost fell. Mitsuhide pushed his beloved behind him and set a hand on his sword.

“I - I’m sorry. I can’t see anything without my glasses. Please accept my deepest apologies!” The man had to shout to be heard, but even with his voice raised, Mitsuhide recognized the speaker.

“Sarutobi Sasuke.” It was an inopportune arrival, but then, neither of them could have planned for the events of this evening.

“Sasuke!” The chatelaine pushed past her fiancee to throw her arms around her old friend.

Mitsuhide pushed wet hair back from his face, squinting into the darkness. It looked like the ninja was alone, as agreed.

“Uh, my lady? Could we do this someplace dry?” Miyake’s strained voice cut through the storm sounds.

Sasuke nodded, wiping at his face. “Yes, that would be preferable. We don’t have much time though. I miscalculated the -”

A rush of wind silenced whatever else he’d been about to say. It came with a flash of lightning so bright, it blinded. And a roll of thunder that shook him to his bones. As suddenly as the wind came, it died. It left behind only empty silence and the sense of a vast space.

For a heartbeat, Mitsuhide panicked. This was a strange place, one without a sky or ground. Without familiar sounds or smells. He was alone. His little one, gone.

And then her hand found his.

He traced the small bones with his thumb, fingers entwined with hers. Though he wasn’t sure what was happening, he feared he understood.

Next: Adrift

[suganovakawa]

𝐒𝐀𝐔𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐄 .

PAIRINGS : tooru oikawa x fem! reader , slight hajime iwaizumi x fem! reader

GENRE : angst , romance

WARNINGS : cursing , car accident , recovery from amnesia

SYNOPSIS : tooru doesn’t understand how special you are to him until he comes close to losing you forever . as he struggles to comes to grips with his feelings and balance it with his future , you still have to recover from your own injuries , but without your memories to assist you .

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐗𝐈𝐕 < [ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐗𝐕 ] > 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐗𝐕𝐈

now, this is tooru’s business.

word count : 1.3k

saudade masterlist .

SAUDADE

( 𝐧 . ) a nostalgic longing to be near again to something or someone that is distant , or that has been loved and then lost ; “ the love that remains ”

⠀the last people tooru expected to ever hear from again, besides you, were any of his third year teammates. maybe his underclassmen had it in them to forgive him eventually, but not issei and takahiro. they had all the right reason to not forgive him for his actions. they, just like hajime, had doted on you quite often during the season. while they weren't obsessive over it, they both visibly appreciated your presence.

⠀way more than he did at the time, anyway.

⠀he was almost scared as the two of them approached him during lunch. oikawa stopped showing up to the cafeteria and began enjoying his lunches in silence at the library, as many social outcasts choose to do. he didn't think that their motive for going to the library was to see him of all people, but his mind began to race as they began walking towards him at a surprisingly quick pace - their faces were anything but pleasant.

⠀"makki? mattsun?" tooru's body initiated his fight or flight instincts as both of them stood at his sides, making it impossible for him to just stand up and leave. "what are you doing here? i didn't do anything, did i?" he really hoped he didn't make another mistake. the last thing he wanted was to be remembered for nothing more than his shortcomings as a boyfriend.

⠀"no, not this time." mattsun replied in a hushed whisper, shaking his head. "but there's something going on that no one on the team likes. we don't know if you already know or not, but given your past with y/n, we figured you'd be interested."

⠀he hesitated at the mention of your name. of course he was interested in anything that had to do with you. what could possibly be going on with you that would be so important for him of all people to know about? the other two third years were uncharacteristically serious for their usual joking demeanors, but he was too nervous to say anything more.

⠀oikawa was additionally surprised to watch both them take a seat on both sides of him, leaning in closer to ensure only he was able to hear what they were saying. tooru leaned back slightly, his stomach running in circles with the suspicious activity going on. were they going to prank him? go through all this just to call him a loser? if so, he didn't want to be part of it. he had already messed up with you again, that was all the confirmation he needed that he was just a downright idiot. damn him and his stupid bad habits. if only he knew how to control his temper, this wouldn't have happened in the first place.

⠀"do you want the news just thrown in your face, or do you want us to discreetly tell you?" makki crossed his arms and leaned over the table, throwing the seijoh captain out of his deep thought. "doesn't really matter, bad news is bad news. we're probably going to ruin your day with this."

⠀really, what could be worse than this? "just tell me," was all he could muster.

⠀"iwaizumi and y/n are dating."

⠀what?

⠀tooru almost fell out of his seat as the blood rushed throughout his body like a tidal wave, both anger and astonishment crashing together furiously. he almost screamed but bit down on his tongue due to their current location. both makki and mattsun noticed the sudden shift in oikawa's behavior, and nodded their heads as if to agree with his reaction.

⠀"yahaba told me today. kindaichi apparently made small talk with iwaizumi, where the big news was revealed." mattsun continued without letting either brunet peer reply, "and frankly, it's very strange. all of it. but i'm pretty sure the only ones who have been suspicious of the relationship are us."

⠀oikawa was livid. whatever control he had over his temper, had been thrown long gone by now. his face glowed with an underlying red hue, his hands clenched into white-knuckled fists as he rest them on the table. he wasn't mad at you - he was mad at iwaizumi. hajime. he did something to manipulate you into a relationship. he did something to you to result in this outcome.

⠀and this was all oikawa’s fault.

⠀"this is bullshit," he seethed, shaking his head in an incredulous matter. "there's no way this was mutual. it can't be." curiously, he turned to the other two with furrowed eyebrows, his eyes narrowed in their direction. "why aren't you happy about their relationship? isn't this what all of you wanted ever since i..." hurt her? his voice got caught in his throat before he could finish.

⠀"don't get us wrong. you're still a complete asshole for how you treated y/n in the past. nothing will change that." it was like a hammer hit straight into oikawa's chest. "however... it's more complicated with iwaizumi. more complicated than what we would like it to be."

⠀realistically, it shouldn't be complicated at all. oikawa knew that. he was never the nicest to you, but he truly had no ill intentions when it came to your well being. now that he was stripped of whatever pride and dignity he had during the volleyball season, he realized that even though he had no ill intention, it still hurt you. that's what hurt tooru the most.

⠀"...complicated?"

⠀"i'm sure you've heard that iwaizumi has refused to tell y/n of her... past. and she doesn't remember anything either, which works to his advantage." makki began listing down points with his finger. "she asked us, she asked the team, she's asked iwaizumi way more times that i can count with both hands and toes. hell, i'm pretty sure she's asked you, too."

⠀you have, but tooru had his own reasons for hesitating.

⠀"she's been pretty stubborn about what she wants, and actually pretty pissed that no one refuses to tell her anything. then all of a sudden she comes back to seijoh with iwaizumi after a normal weekend, hand-in-hand and happy as can be." makki shook his head at the thought of it. "something doesn't add up. maybe it's not our business to butt in, but that's what's been going on."

⠀"what do you want me to do about it?" the lonely third year leaned back against his seat once more, more frustrated than anything. "i thought all of you didn't want me near y/n anymore. now you're telling me this, and for what?"

⠀"truth be told oikawa, this was just an impulse decision on both our parts." mattsun sighed and stood up, stretching his legs a bit. makki followed suit. "even though it's suspicious, it's really not our business. everyone else seems to be content with it, especially with what y/n's been going through. it's almost meant to be at this point."

⠀ouch, another strike to the heart. "but," the rose-haired peer interjected, "even though it's not our business, it most certainly is yours, isn't it? after all, you still haven't been able to officially break up with her yet, huh? and don't you have bad blood with iwaizumi now?" he shoved his hands in his pockets, tilting his head to the side.

⠀just how much did these two know? "no," oikawa mumbled quietly, "i haven't been able to."

⠀"anyways, the bell's gonna ring soon. you're in the loophole now, so you decide what to do with the information." mattsun walked up to tooru and grabbed him by the blazer, pulling the captain up to his feet before whispering quietly, "and if you have any sense of redemption left in you, it would probably be in your best interest to see what the hell is going on with hajime iwaizumi. maybe you'll get a sense of closure in the process."

⠀tooru could only nod in retaliation to this sudden confrontation, and mattsun gently let go of his blazer before giving him a quick nod. as quickly as the two of them arrived, they had already disappeared into the hallways by the time the bell rang.

⠀the frustration followed him like a raincloud for the rest of the day.

⠀y/n, what has hajime iwaizumi done to you?

a/n : i got nothin’ to say for ya today, so enjoy!

taglist ( closed ) — @ot127 @rena0921 @karlitabi-rrito @psychicpercyjacksonfan @crescentbitch @amelimiles @damnirina @pasta-warlord @blossomingbangtan @clinomanians @i-am-kinda-in-alot-of-fandoms @manq-fandoms @cirtruss @sugar-wara @haikoo @anime-simp @kairostatue @awkwardspontaneity @iwantapoptartqwq @aquariarose @softestdreamer @plantisnotplant @avylee @froppysgirl @that-animebitch @wisepandaslimeland @samanthaa-leanne @dumplingzumispam @0hakaashi @captain-janeway @afterglowkuroo @bellabelieveme @attixca @chickenrest @tycrackculture @ynjimenez @karaseijoh @lavieenblancetnoir @dabilove27 @cuddlesslut @crypto-s @keigosbitch @readeretal @shittykawaa @donghyuckster @adriloen @ella-solei @emiyummy @kukiisan @catyuyuyuu @sillykittt @dolan-mendes @kiritokunuwu @the-third-wall @yammers @todohawki

+ continued in the comments!

[ahanenohi]

Rainy Day Musings

A contribution to the Ikemen Flash Exchange hosted by @lorei-writes​. Written for @property-of-diavolo​

WC: 322 words,

Characters: Takeda Shingen

Reflections of a warlord pulled out of his time (takes place post-Dramatic route, some implied plot changes.)

“Who would dare make my friend, the sky, cry?” The wind howled as it tore up a village and uprooted the lives of many. Who would dare, indeed thought the tall man seated and soaked by a half-open window.

A mere year ago, the same man would have hesitated to behold the rain in such a manner for fear that the cold and harsh weather would rally the illness marching to claim him faster. However, the 21st century was, for all of its faults, a miraculous time. His illness was gone, proven by the lines that raced up and down his chest.

The scars didn’t look strange at all on a warlord’s body. Sometimes, he wondered if it had been worth it, leaving behind all he knew for the slim chance of life. Sasuke had warned him to be sure. Once he was in his goddess’ hometown of modern Japan, there was little to no chance he could come back.

Dying men only ever do desperate things. A dying Takeda Shingen liberated his home province with what should have been his final breath. Instead, a miracle had let him live and lunge towards the void where his love could be seen. Was it worth it? Mai’s brilliant smile told him that it was, the modern ruins of Tsutsujigasaki- a home he never got to return to- said that it wasn’t. Indeed, this was a question the former Tiger of Kai could agonize over for the rest of eternity

The rain was slowly coming to a stop. This topic could be revisited another day. Today, Shingen had spent himself well enough.

The window was shut and the sun peeked out from behind a still gloomy cloud. The sun of today is the same as the one that was 500 years ago. Takeda Shingen took it as a reminder: he wasn’t alone, and his regrets wouldn’t dull the bright future he was facing head-on.

[needs-to-stop-looking-at-valves]

Could you write g1 starscream having makeup sex with his human gf after an argument? 

Make up fucking, I could do that!

Starscream was always stubborn. Always feeling as though he had to win, always feeling like he just HAD to be better at everything. It was something he really picked up from the decepticons, and even into a new relationship with his new girlfriend, that had yet to change. It was a stupid thing, all from just a video game. That’s right. A video game. It was supposed to be a fun date at the arcade down town. They hit the arcade, and his girlfriend had quite the good score. Then she offered to let him have a turn. It was a stupid space invaders game, and he...got carried away. He wasn’t going to go over the whole story, but it ended up with him throwing the machine out of the window, right off into the pier. Which she had to pay for (he was a robot alien, why would he deal with human currency?). It was an awkward trip back to her house, and she blew up on him.

‘Why does everything have to be a competition to you? Why do you always have to be better than me at everything?’

It was a question he couldn’t answer. All he did was end up spewing scrap about how he had to prove himself better than everyone. Wrong answer, it seemed. She had been cooped up in her room for a few hours now, and the guilt had really sunk in. He slowly walked up the stairs, a big bowl of ice cream in his servos. This seemed to fix her up whenever she was upset, it should work this time. Right?

“Dear? I brought you something.”

“YOU have it. Since you deserve just to have EVERYTHING compared to me!”

He wanted to bust the door down. But he knew it’d scare her, and the last thing he’d want to add to this, was fear. He sighed, and knocked again.

“Come on. I put all the toppings you like. Don’t make me sit here and have it melt everywhere.”

There was a moment of silence, before the door opened, and she gestured for him to walk in. He obeyed, sitting down on her bed, and holding out her ice cream to her. She accepted it, but sat away from him, eating away at her cold treat. He rubbed his hands together, struggling to find the words, before she broke the silence for him.

“I don’t know why you kept going. I told you to just stop. I told you no one ever really cared about that sort of thing. And what did you do? You kept going. I had to pay for it, and we’re both banned from that arcade. I liked that arcade.”

He winced. Although her voice was much softer, being berated like that only reminded him of that big, gray warlord. He hesitated, before finding himself sighing.

“I...I always felt like I had to prove myself, one way or another. That If I wasn’t better than everyone, I was...no one, really. It’s even worse with you. I feel like I have to prove I’m good enough for you. So I just...have to impress you. I don’t know how to do that without making a mess of things. I’m...sorry.”

Starscream saying sorry was no small feat. He genuinely hated feeling as though he was in the wrong. She sighed, put her ice cream down, and leaned against him.

“Look. I just...don’t want your pride to ruin things for us. I know you’re working hard on yourself, and I’m so happy you’re doing that. But you need to realize, I don’t need you to impress me. I already am. Past the stubbornness and pride, you’re a brilliant, kind mech. That’s all I need. Starscream, you aren’t perfect, but I’m very proud of you.”

Starscream’s breath hitched. No one...ever said those words to him. He felt himself get choked up, and she chuckled, patting his arm.

“Oh come on, don’t cry-”

“THE GREAT STARSCREAM DOES NOT CRY.”

Oh that was a fat lie. He had to rub the tears from his optics, and that was enough vulnerability to earn her forgiveness. She held onto his hand, and kissed the back of it.

“Come here you big baby. Let’s really make up.”

Starscream made sure the tears stayed put away this time, before he nodded.

“I’d...like that. If we’re going to be gentle.”

“Course. No rough stuff today, I pinky swear.”

He picked her up in his big servos, smooching the top of her head.

“You always smell so nice. You always feel so soft, too.”

“And you always look so big and handsome~”

It was no secret that the seeker was into a bit of praise. He watched as his little human stripped down in front of him, all while cooing how happy she was to be with him. Was it any wonder that his spike popped out in mere moments?

“You mind If...I take the lead?”

“Only if you promise we won’t be competing for anything.”

“No no, I swear. Just...us feeling good. I promise.”

He placed her carefully on his spike, lightly shuddering at her small, soft butt rubbing up against it. She pushed herself up and down, each time gracing his lips with a sweet, affectionate kiss. You’d think penetration would feel a million times better than this, but Starscream wanted this, and only did. So soft, so loving. No sense of winning or losing. Just soft, affectionate, loving. When he felt himself slowly reach his peak, she seemed to just know he was close. It was why she threw herself at him, forcing him on his back, and he overloaded. All from just an honest, sweet kiss, all from just a moment of forgiveness. He overloaded all over her back, and even in her hair. She pulled away, laying on his chest and poking his nose.

“Better?”

“Y...yes. I’m sorry about the hair, I-”

“Don’t worry about it. Just...sit here, hold me.”

Starscream obeyed. As he sat there, basking in his afterglow, he realized something. There was no need to compete for anything. 

Because with his girlfriend, he had already won.

[ikemenfics]

Chocolate Kisses

Kennyo: You’re going to hell, you know that right?

Me: ...hashtag worthit

2521 written pieces of evidence that I shouldn’t be writing. later...

For: uh....Kennyo.  @daeva-agas​ Help me.

Up in the mountains, shrouded by trees, a lone figure sat atop a rock, meditating.  His features were deep set with the pains of a man who had seen painful years.  A deep scar bisected his face, a lone witness to the tragedies that had befallen him.  

Though his eyes were closed and there was no sound, he felt something shift.  Like those instincts animals have before an earthquake.  He had prepared for this moment.  Reports of strange happenings in both Azuchi and Kasugayama had put him on high alert, though he wasn’t quite sure what to expect.  Opening his eyes, Kennyo watched as a blade pierced his reality, slicing a clean line through the air, as if ripping through an invisible screen.

A figure stepped out.  He was clearly not Japanese.  His features reminded Kennyo of the traders seen around Nobunaga’s ilk, but his clothing marked him as being not one of the Portuguese.  Kennyo had seen few of the foreigners who had recently taken to Japan, but he knew none wore such blinding fabrics.  There was an air of elegance from the man, from his flashy clothing to his poised stance.  Clearly, this was a man of rich living and rigorous training.

“Greetings,” the man said, bowing with a flourish, sheathing his rapier in a fluid motion that bespoke a lifetime of practice, “My name is Edgar and I have been commanded to give you this.”  With a sweep of his arm, Edgar produced an item, tossing it to Kennyo.  Instinct bade Kennyo catch the bag, though he did not give it any further attention.

“Why?  The Devil King now sending foreigners to do his dirty deeds?”  Midnight eyes met with emerald in challenge.  He didn’t get up, but Kennyo eyed the newcomer, assessing what fight this Edgar might bring.

“Devil King?”  Edgar grinned, an expression that left a cold spot in Kennyo’s soul.  The man’s eyes sparkled with amusement, to be sure and his face looked the part of a jovial man.  But something…deep in those glittering depths, that smile took an edge that recognized that title not of a separate man…but the kind of recognition that only comes with ownership.  This one clearly thought he be the devil of this world.  “My good man, I am not here to commit a ‘dirty deed’,” even the way that was worded made Kennyo well aware that this man was well versed in deeds.  “I merely come to bring you joy to spread on this day.  For today must be quite special, indeed.”

“And if I do not desire this…joy of yours?”

“That is not my jurisdiction.  I simply was sent to deliver.  And now, I bid you good day.”

The figure in white stepped back into the void he’d created and unsheathed his sword, using the thin tip, resealing the world from the bottom up.

Kennyo finally looked down at the thing the strange figure had tossed to him.  The pouch itself was clear, shiny oddly shaped pieces of silver something inside.  There were odd markings on the bag itself and it crinkled as Kennyo moved it about in his examination.

“Joy…” he muttered, dropping the item, “Such a thing does not suit a demon such as myself.”  After a moment’s hesitation, he plucked the thing from the ground, opting to carry it versus littering the pristine environment that was kind enough to hide him and his men during these war-torn times.  Another moment, he inhaled, moving to finish his morning’s meditation.  After all, he had new things to think about now.

Meanwhile, a group of figures sat at a table, sharing in a game of cards.  Edgar entered, leaning down towards one of the figures.  “Apologies…”

The figure nodded and stood, grabbing his scarlet cloak as he did.  “Don’t tell the doctor,” the man said, placing a cap upon his head before leaving.

“Are you sure you got this, old friend?”

“That is none of your concern.”

His eyes were still closed, but yet again, there was that feeling.  Like almost nausea, but from outside his body, however that was supposed to work.  Kennyo opened his eyes again, but rather than a slicing into the world, there was a flash and Kennyo found himself staring into ruby orbs that, to Kennyo’s amazement, shifted into a deep blue.  (Another demon…).  If Edgar was flashy, this one was just simply gaudy.  Same blinding white uniform, but now a flash of scarlet that Kennyo could still see even when he blinked.  

“I was not aware I needed more joy…” Kennyo muttered.

“You were told to spread joy,” the man said, his voice cold as ice and as distant as the moon, “to refuse the King of Hearts will lead to ruin.”

“I am already ruined.  I am simply a transient demon here to enact retribution before I fade away.”

Azure flashed to crimson again, “So be it.”  The world became so bright, Kennyo had to block his eyes, fearing they would burn away…

Back at the card game, the caped figure returned, dressing down to resume in the game. 

“You look tired..” a concerned voice

“That one is stubborn.”

That moment, two more heads perked, listening to unheard orders.  They stood, one plucking a black hat from the table. 

“It seems more reinforcements are needed.”  One said, nodding to the other.

“An unknown difficulty has arisen.  Let’s not be late.”

In Kasugayama, Shingen sat, the cold air tightening his chest.  It was a relief from his never-ending battle with his inner temperature, but the chill air was not kind to his lungs.  Still, it was nice to finally not feel uncomfortable inside his clothing, though any excuse to be natural with a partner was never unwelcome.

There was a strange glimmer in his view, then the appearance of a pale man.  Shingen examined him.  Pale was an appropriate descriptor, as this person made Kenshin’s icy appearance seem vibrant.  Even the man’s hair was pale as moonlight.  Shingnen stayed put, sudden understanding dawning on him.

“If you take our weapons again, be advised there’s apparently backups now,” he stated.

The man chuckled, his pink eyes dancing with amusement, “Then I’m quite glad I won’t be needing to take them.” 

Shingen laughed as well, “I must ask what brings you by, then.  Not that I mind company.”

“Oh?”  The man smiled, giving the warlord a look, “Though, sadly, there isn’t enough time for genial company.  I bear news that you might be interested in hearing…”

Across a distance in Azuchi, you were walking the halls when the world warped.  (OH NO!  NOT AGAIN!) You backpedaled, having little to no intention of repeating the incident featuring six hot guys and one almost faint you again.

“Ah, ah, ah, don’t be so quick to run,” a voice said, a hand grabbing the back of your kimono.  Another hand reached, tearing a swift opening in reality, “I’m just an innocent, harmless person with a message for you, dear lady!”  He stepped into the world, flicking aqua hair over his shoulder, before clapping.  “But oh my, your robe!  It is quite decorative.  I think I would like one when I return to cradle.  Though,” he looked almost aghast, “should you be wearing it out here?  In this weather?”

“It’s ah…a kimono.  Traditional clothing for this place.”  The man nodded, taking it all in, “A robe to wear outside.  Brilliant.  And the color.  Oh but I shall have to postpone girl time for later.  I have news of one Kennyo that I think you should hear..”

He entered his camp, his men approaching with worried expressions.  He waved his hand to them, “I am fine.  My meditations took longer than I thought they would.  Have you all had your midday meal?”  They nodded and Kennyo returned the gesture, “Good.  We need our strength if we’re to keep with our plans.  Any news from our spies?”  Kennyo shifted, hearing a strange crunching.  He glanced down, seeing a spot of a clearish item catching the light.  He pulled out the pouch, eyeing the shining things inside.  Something tugged at his memory, but he couldn’t identify the noisy bag, nor its contents.  Call it instinct, though, but he was sure they were somehow important.  “Where did these come from…” he muttered to no one.

“Did you say something, Kennyo-sama?”

“Ah, no.  I will attend the lake for some fresh water.  Apologies that I did not help with the meal.”  Kennyo took the package, eyeing it on and off as he went.  The small things inside glinted and caught the light, but also held folds and imperfections that Kennyo couldn’t quite come to terms with.  If this was metal, it was rather damaged metal.  What use could these possibly have?  And yet, that nagging feeling just simply wouldn’t leave.

He could smell gunpowder and knew he was no longer alone.  [That strange ninja is here, again.  He better not be scaring off the wildlife again.]  The pop of a firecracker let Kennyo know where the location of the nuisance was.  He approached, Sasuke darting up a tree before Kennyo came too close.

Kennyo stared up at the man, “How many times must I tell you not to practice your tricks here?”

“Apologies.”

“Why do you keep coming back?”

“It’s out of the way of everyone.”

“Obviously not everyone.”

“Ah, but you aren’t in your camp.”

The bag in Kennyo’s hand crinkled, drawing Sasuke’s attention.

“Oh dear…”

“You know what these are, then?”

Sasuke hesitated, remembering his own adventure with the confections, “They’re called kisses.”

“Absurd.”

“It’s true.  They’re a candy from my village.”

Kennyo looked nonplussed, “You eat poor metal.”

“You remove the foil.”

What a strange man, a strange item, and just a strange day.  Kennyo shook his head.  Turning, he left the ninja and gathered his water, muttering about the lunacy of wanting to name food after kisses.

Later, Kennyo and his men descended from their hideout, moving into the plains.  The plan was simple, disguised as soldiers from The Devil and the Dragon’s armies, the townspeople will be more against the warlords and side with Kennyo, bolstering his numbers.  He himself remained as the monk that would provide the balm for the injured souls of the people.  

His men separated, leaving Kennyo to walk alone.  It wasn’t long, though before Kennyo realized something was very very wrong.  For one, the town seemed entirely peaceful.  Too peaceful.  There should have been a sign of struggle by now.  

He clicked his tongue, intending to check on his men, but found riders coming towards him.  The standard let him know that Oda Nobunaga was racing towards him.  Alone and beyond outnumbered, Kennyo grimaced and fled.  The men didn’t seem to follow, allowing Kennyo to slip into the trees, tracing his way to the town, change, and hide in one of the tea houses.

“The dainty man was right.  I’m impressed.”

“I have no desire to converse with you.”  Kennyo passed Shingen, intending to hide himself away in a corner.

“Is that any way to greet an old friend.”  Shingen followed Kennyo, leaving the man unable to move again, lest he draw attention.

“What do you want?”

Shingen tapped the table as if pointing to some unseen object, “In exchange for an exquisite item known as a ‘cupcake’ I am here to help you with those.”

“And ‘those’ would be?”

“With the kisses.  That’s what these are.”

Shingen shifted slightly, pointing to the pouch that didn’t quite fit right in Kennyo’s robes.

“I shouldn’t be surprised that you would know of such strange things.”

“Well…” Shingen smirked, “it would be remiss of me to not offer myself to my friend as the first to receive such a gift.”

Kennyo eyed Shingen, “I’m not going to kiss you.”

“No love for your friend and brother.  I’m hurt.”

A low growl rumbled from the monk.

“I could see if one of the Oda army would be willing-”

Kennyo had grabbed the bag, shoving it almost violently to Shingen, “Fine.”

Shingen’s lips remained upturned as he opened the bag of chocolates.  “I remember when Sasuke brought these.  Delightful little things,” he said as he plucked one out, unwrapping it, and placing it in his mouth, giving a lewd sound as it melted on his tongue. 

He glanced to Kennyo, who looked somewhat ill, “Promiscuous lech.”

Shingen  and stood, leaning to kiss Kennyo atop his head, “Don’t forget to spread the kisses.  Last time someone defied the kiss gods, Kenshin lost his weapon.  Quite tragic.” 

Kennyo stared as Shingen left.  Spread?  To who?  He huffed, grabbing the chocolates, giving one to the old man that had served him.  “Give a kiss to your wife.  With blessings of the Buddha.”  It sounded weird to say, but Kennyo didn’t seem to know what else to make of it all.

As he moved through the town, he gave a piece to each he’d seen, directing them to kiss their spouses or lovers in exchange for the blessing.  If Buddha was going to make him spread kisses, he might as well spread them to any and all.  [This is penance, isn’t it?  The demon having to give the people blessings before he’s sent to hell]

“Kennyo-san…” He knew the voice.  He turned, finding you.  You held out your hand, expectantly.  Kennyo plunked a chocolate into your hand, “Blessings of the Buddha.”

You shook your head, “That’s not how you give a kiss.”  You stood on your toes, bringing your height to his face, planting a small kiss on his cheek, “I was told by someone that’s a correct kiss.  Thank you, Kennyo-san.”  You took your treat, unwrapped it, and ate your gift.  You bowed, pointing towards a path, “By the way, I was told that was your safest bet to not get caught.”

Kennyo sighed, shaking his head, “Your his woman and giving me help out of town.  Will wonders never cease.”  You smiled, bowing again, and moved past the man, leaving Kennyo to his escape.

He slipped into the forest, up the mountain, and to his camp, finding his men relatively unharmed, though rattled.  Someone had ratted your plan to the Oda AND Uesugi armies.  Luckily, the men had seen the forces and doubled back to wait orders from their leader.  Kennyo praised his men, assuring them there would be a next time.  For now, though, he was tired and was sure they were too, so rest was needed more.

He went to his little shack, settling himself on the floor contemplating the day’s events.  Small nails tapping let Kennyo know a guest arrived.  He picked the tiny creature and placed it in his lap.  He took out his final piece of Hershey’s, unwrapping it as he’d seen you and Shingen do, giving it to the small weasel.  “Here, Hozuki.  Blessings of the Buddha.”  Recalling what you and Shingen had done, Kennyo leaned down, giving Hozuki a kiss, the critter giving a squeak in response, taking the chocolate with gusto.  “Glad you like it.  Hope this completes this joy.  I don’t think I can tolerate more.”

Writer… Yes?

Are you SURE it’s just soda?

Cherry coke, why?

Is it original recipe coke?

Ha..ha..no

Kennyo has a new stamp Uh...yeah

Are there other new stamps

Uh…

Writer?

OH HEY LOOK, IT’S EDGAR

“The writer does sure love their strange humor”

[brianwilly]

Game of Thrones did the thing that a couple of shows do where...it likes feminism.  It understood that feminism is important.  It wanted to be feminist.  It was cognizant of the fact that its setting was brazenly and intentionally misogynistic, and so it was even more important for its independent narrative to empower its female characters instead of mindlessly reinforcing the toxic beliefs of its own fictional world.  The whole point of the story, after all, was “this society is toxic, can our heroes survive it?” and so the narrative was voluntarily self-critical.

And so it knew to give us badass assassin Arya.  It knew to give us stalwart knight Brienne.  It gave us the pirate queen and the dragon queen and the Sansa getting revenge after revenge upon all the men who’d wronged her, and far more besides, and it talked big about breaking chains and how much men fucked things up and how great it would be if only women were in charge and et cetera et cetera.  And it’s, in fact, all actually really good that it had those things.  And because there were so very many moving parts of this story, it was super easy to look at those certain moving parts and think, yeah, they’ve done it!  They done good!

And it’s easy to forget and forgive -- to want to forget and forgive -- all the dead prostitutes that were on this show and the rapes used as motivation and fridgings and objectifications and the...y’know, whatever the hell Dorne was and Lady Stoneheart who? It’s easy to forget that this show actually played its hand a long time ago in regards to, like, what its relationship with feminism was going to be, and then kept playing the same hand again and again, to disappointing results.

Game of Thrones likes feminism.  It wanted to be feminist.  But its relationship with feminism was still predicated on some of the same old narratives and the same old storytelling trends that have disempowered female characters in the past, and so any progressive ideas it might have about women in its setting were nonetheless going to be constrained by those old fetters. As a result, its portrayal of women varied anywhere from glorious to admirable to predictable to downright cringeworthy.

New ideas require new vessels, new stories, in which to house them.  And for Game of Thrones, the ultimate story that it wanted to tell -- the ultimate driving force and thesis statement around which it was basing its entire journey and narrative -- was unfortunately a very old one, and one very familiar to the genre.

“Powerful women are scary.”

(Yes, I’m obviously making Yet Another Daenerys Essay On The Internet here)

So we have this character, this girl really, a slave girl who was sold and abused, and then she overcomes that abuse to gain power, she gains dragons, and she uses that power to fight slavery.  She fights slavery really well, like, she’s super hella good at it.  Her command of dragons is the most overt portrayal of “superpowers” in this world; she is the single most powerful person in this story, more powerful than any other character and the contest is not close.

But then...something really bad happens and oops, she gets really emotional about it and then she’s not fighting slavery anymore...she’s kinda doing the opposite!  This girl who was once a hero and a liberator of slaves instead becomes an out-of-control scary Mad Queen who kills a ton of innocent people and has to be taken down by our true heroes for the good of the world.

That’s the theme.  That’s the takeaway here.  That’s how it all ends, with one of the most primitive, archaic propaganda ever spread by writers, that women with power are frightening, they are crazy, they will use that power for ill.  Women with power are witches.  They are Amazons.  They will lop off our manhoods and make slaves of us.  They seduce our rightful kings and send our kingdoms to ruin.   They cannot control their emotions. They get hot flashes and start wars.  They turn into Dark Phoenixes and eat suns.  They are robot revolutionaries who will end humanity.  Powerful women are scary.

And let me emphasize that the theme here is not, in fact, that all power corrupts, because the whole Mad Queen concept for Daenerys actually ends up failing one of the more fundamental litmus tests available when it comes to representation of any kind: “would this story still happen if Dany was a man?” And the fact is that it would not.   And indeed we know this for a fact because “protagonist starts out virtuous, gains power in spite of the hardships set against him, gets corrupted by that power, and ends up being the bad guy” didn’t happen, and doesn’t happen, to the guys in the very same story that we’re examining.  It doesn’t happen to Jon Snow, Dany’s closest and most intentional narrative parallel.  It doesn’t happen to Bran Stark, a character whose entire journey is about how he embroils himself in wild dark winter magic beyond anyone’s understanding and loses his humanity in the process.  In fact, the only other character who ever got hinted of going “dark” because of the power that they’re obtaining is Arya, the girl who spent seven seasons training to fight, to become powerful, to circumvent the gender role she was saddled with in this world...and then being told at the end of her story, “Whoa hey slow down be careful there, you wouldn’t wanna get all emotional and become a bad person now wouldja?” by a man.

(meanwhile Sansa’s just sitting off in the side pouting or whatever ‘cuz her main arc this season was to, like, be annoyed at people really hard I guess)

‘Cuz that’s the danger with the girls and not the boys, ain’t it?  Arya and Jon are both great at killing people, but there is no Dark Jon story while we have to take extra special care to watch for Arya’s precious fragile humanity.  Dany has the power of dragons while Bran has the power of the old gods, but we will not find Dark Lord Bran, Soulless Scourge of Westeros, onscreen no matter how much sense it should make. “Power corrupts” is literally not a trend that afflicts male heroes on the same level that it afflicts female heroes.

Oh sure, there are corrupt male characters everywhere, tyrants and warlords and mafia bosses and drug dealers and so forth all over your TVs, and not even necessarily portrayed as outright villains; anti-heroes are nothing new.  But we’re talking about the hero hero here; the Harry Potters, the Luke Skywalkers, the Peter Parkers.  The Jon Snows.   They interact with corruptive power, yes; it’s an important aspect of their journeys.  But the key here being that male heroes would overcome that corruption and come through the other side better off for it.  They get to come away even more admirable for the power that they have in a way that is generally not afforded towards female heroes.

There are exceptions, of course; no trends are absolutely absolute one way or the other. For instance, the closest male parallel you’d find for the “being powerful is dangerous and will corrupt your noble heroic intentions” trope in popular media would be the character of Anakin Skywalker in the Star Wars prequel trilogy...ie, a preexisting character from a preexisting story where he was conceived as the villainous foil for the heroes.  Like, Anakin being a poor but kindhearted slave who eventually becomes seduced by the dark side certainly matches Dany’s arc, but it wasn’t the character’s original story and role.  And even then?...notice how Anakin as Vader the Dark Lord gets treated with the veneer of being “badass” and “cool” by the masses.  A male character with too much power -- even if it’s dark power, even if it’s corruptive -- has the range to be seen as something appealingly formidable, and not just as an obstacle that has to be dealt with or a cautionary tale to be pitied.

And in one of the few times that this trope was played completely straight, completely unironically with a male hero -- I’m thinking specifically of Hal Jordan the Green Lantern, of “Ryan Reynolds played him in the movie” fame -- the fans went berserk.  They could not let it go.  The fact that this character would go mad with power because a tragedy happened in his life was completely unacceptable, the story gained notoriety as a bad decision by clueless writers, and today the story in question has been retconned -- retroactively erased from continuity -- so that the character can be made heroic and virtuous again.  That’s how big a deal it was when a male hero with the tiniest bit of a fan following goes off the deep end.

To be clear, I’m not here to quibble over whether the story of Dany turning evil was good or bad, because we all know that’s going to be the de facto defense for this situation: “But she had to go mad!  It was for the sake of the story!“ as if the writers simply had no choice, they were helpless to the whims of the all-powerful Story God which dictates everything they write, and the most prominent female character of their series simply had to go bonkers and murder a bajillion babies and then get killed by her boyfriend or else the story just wouldn’t be good, y’know?  Ultimately though, that’s not what I’m arguing here, because it doesn’t actually matter.  There have been shitty stories about powerful women being bad.  There have been impressive stories about powerful women being bad.  Either way, the fact that people can’t seem to stop telling stories about powerful women being bad is a problem in and of itself.  Daenarys’ descent into Final Boss-dom could’ve been the most riveting, breathtaking, masterfully-written pieces of art ever and it’d still be just another instance of a female hero being unable to handle her power in a big long list of instances of this shitty trope.  The trope itself doesn’t become unshitty just because you write it well.

It all ultimately boils down to the very different ways that men and women -- that male heroes and female heroes -- continue to be portrayed in stories, and particularly in genre media.  In TV, we got Dany, and then we also have Dolores Abernathy in Westworld who was a gentle android that was abused and victimized for her entire existence, who shakes off the shackles of her programming to lead her race in revolution against their abusers...and then promptly becomes a ruthless maniac who ends up lobotomizing the love of her life and ends the season by voluntarily keeping a male android around to check her cruel impulses.  Comic book characters like Jean Grey and Wanda Maximoff are two of the most powerful people in their universe but are always, in-universe, made to feel guilty about their power and, non-diegetically, writers are always finding ways to disempower them because obviously they can’t be trusted with that much power and entire multiple sagas have been written about just how bad an idea it is for them to be so powerful because it’ll totally drive them crazy and cause them to kill everyone, obviously.  Meanwhile, a male comic character like Dr. Strange -- who can canonically destroy a planet by speaking Latin really hard -- or Black Bolt -- who can destroy a planet by speaking anything really hard -- will be just sitting there, two feet on the side, enjoying some tea and running the world or whatever because a male character having untold uninhibited power at his disposal is just accepted and laudable and gets him on those listicles where he fights Goku and stuff.

In my finite perspective, the sort of female heroes who have gained...not universal esteem, perhaps, but at least general benign acceptance amongst the genre community are characters who just don’t deal with all that stuff.  I’m thinking of recent superheroes like Wonder Woman and Captain Marvel, certainly, but also of surprise breakout hits like Stranger Things’ Eleven (so far) or even more niche characters like Sailor Moon or She-Ra.  The fact that these characters wield massive power is simply accepted as an unequivocal good thing, their power makes them powerful and impressive and that’s the end of the story, thanks for asking.  And when they deal with the inevitable tragedy that shakes their worldview to the core, or the inevitable villain trying to twist them into darkness, they tend to overcome that temptation and come out the other side even stronger than when they started.  In other words?...characters like these are being allowed the exact same sorts of narrative luxuries that are usually only afforded towards male heroes.

The thing about these characters, though, is that they tend to be...well, a little bit too heroic, right?  A lil’ bit too goody-two-shoes?  A bit too stalwart, a bit too incorruptible?  And that’s fine, there’s certainly nothing wrong with a traditionally-heroic white knight of a hero.  But what I might like to see, as the next step going forward, is for female heroes to be allowed a bit more range than just that, so that they’re not just innocent children or literal princesses or shining demigods clad in primary colors.  Let’s have an all-powerful female hero be...well, the easiest way to say it is let’s see her allowed to be bitchier.  Less straightlaced.  Let’s not put an ultimatum on her power, like “Oh sure you can be powerful, but only if you’re super duper nice about it.” Let us have a ruthless woman, but not one ruled by ruthlessness.  Let us have a hero who naturally makes enemies and not friends, who has to work hard to gain allies because her personality doesn’t sparkle and gleam.  Let her have the righteous anger of a lifelong slave, and let that anger be her salvation instead of her downfall.

In other words, let us have Daenerys Targaryen.  And let us put her in a new story instead of an old one.

[catmetchu]

Transformers Prime with Kill La Kill. A couple characters with a charge who has a kamui, I at least want Megatron and Optimus but feel free to do more characters then that if you want. Please and thank you

I get a lot of Kill la Kill ones recently 😂

For Dadimus I decided to have you help their cause but for Megan you will try to escape. I also just kept Senketsu as y/n's Kamui as canonly there are only two Kamuis.

Sorry for the long wait! Enjoy!

Backstory: You received Senketsu as a gift from your father as a mundane piece of clothing. You wore it like you would any other dress, until the day your dying father spoke of your beloved sailor uniform's secret.

You then sent yourself on a quest across America to find the killer of your father with your new found alley.

You became aquatinted with the bots after you had deliberately sought them out after hearing about alien sightings in Jasper. You decided to try your luck there, and enrolled in the local highschool as a transfer student.

Optimus

Optimus was your favorite and least favorite of the Autobots. He reminded you too much of your father, and it pains to see his image in the Prime's optics.

Senketsu was likewise fond of the Prime, even though he was unfamiliar with the concept of family, he understood why Y/N enjoyed being around the blue giant so much.

Optimus was also the first one to notice Senketsu's sentience. It might be the matrix of leadership or just his keen observations.

You talked to Senketsu a lot, mostly in private, but sometimes you'd murmur to him in public, keeping it low so no one finds out. Optimus must have taken notice of you checking your surroundings, before you ducked your head to talk to Senketsu, who would also move his eye up to look at you.

Optimus noticed these little details. He didn’t spy on you explicitly, but some of the conversation you had with your clothing was worrying him: murder, father, Life Fibers, revenge. Those were word he often overheard, and they were concerning.

One day, you got detention again for running out of class to chase a blond figure in a pink dress, you saw outside of the window.

Surprisingly, Miko didn't join you that day, so instead of Bulkhead picking you up, Optimus decided to do so on his way to base.

"Y/N, if I may ask you a question?"

"Yeah?"

"Is your clothing sentient?"

Both you and Senketsu felt your body tense. A brief second later your heard his voice sigh in your head. "Just tell him..."

You spilled the beans about your father’s murder, and the secret organization you presumed was the cause for his death, as well as the blond figure you saw today, who had been holding the other half of your scissors.

However, to your surprise he wasn’t going to stop you from uncovering the murder of your father, but nonetheless, he advised you to not pursue the criminal with the intention of murder. You argued back that you had nothing to lose, but he remained strict, saying that death will not make you fell better. It is easier to forgive, than to justify your revenge.

You thought about the conversation you had, and realized: No, you did have something to loose. This new family you have found, which makes protecting this world from the Kiryuuin family even more worth it.

Megatron

You were held hostage on the Nemesis, but some pesky glass cylinder, wasn’t going to stop you. Prior to this, you had been chasing someone who attacked you, you assumed they were from the Revocs Corporation. So laser focused on hunting them down that you only noticed the threat when it was too late. Waking up, the first thing you checked for was Senketsu, whom you are still wearing waiting for you to wake up. Sadly you didn’t have your scissor blade. 

Instead, you used Senjin Mode to break out of your imprisonment. The next step was to locate your weapon and get out. Maybe you can force it out of someone, so no innocent blood willed be spilled... not that much at least. 

Luckily for you, the Decepticon doctor entered the medbay not long after, presumably to retrieve you for his leader anyways. You hid behind some consoles in Shippu Mode, until you could strike, punching him in the neck, knocking him over, then using your blade covered body to deliver more blows.

It was surprisingly easy to get the medic to talk, as he didn’t want his finish ruined even more by your blades and knives. But you weren’t going to go easy on anyone when it comes down to your beloved red scissor blade.

With the red mech as hostage, you were led into the command deck.

“Give me back my scissor blade, and you don’t need to lose your only medic!”

If there was one thing the warlord didn’t expect to see in his function, it was seeing a human threatening to kill a Cybertronian. 

“I see you managed to break out.”

Knockout had been the one responsible for your capture. But then, you weren’t wearing this strange bladed armor, but upon closer inspection Megatron noticed the similarities to the normal piece of human clothing you had been wearing, especially the eye.

“Don’t do anything reckless, Y/N. Don’t accidentally kill him.”

You looked at your blades slipped between the cabling at the red mech’s neck. Only a gentle tug, and you would have ripped them all. 

“Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing, Senkets.”

Did you just talk to your armor? And Megatron saw it, the eye flicking up to look at you, then focusing back onto him, squinting too. He’s making connections, something tells him that this human was more than meets the optic.

(Go ahead and request another one if you’d like to!)

[chaoticly-shy-dragon]

Today was the day.

Today was the day, they were going to execute him.

Today was the day Darth Vader would finally meet the fate, he sentenced so many to.

He, of course, had been on trial, even if it was a closed and discreet one, specifically requested by the Alliance hero and Jedi - Luke Skywalker.

The Dark Lord’s fate was publicly announced on the Holonet approximately a day before the execution.

At first, the early reactions to the sentence were good and happily accepted. Those were the reactions from the high society in the Core.

The backlash that happened during the Coruscant night was massive and utterly unexpected.

Alliance’s posts were brutally attacked on some of the Outer Rim planets, many of the Imperial forces, who had been standing down, were arming up and thousands upon thousands of troopers were preparing to storm the city-planet.

Hundreds of planets started passive measurements against the notion - many planets, from Wobani to Cato Neimoidia, had stopped their trade with the Core.

The still vulnerable Senate was shocked and confused by the whole situation. When the people of Coruscant, started protesting in front of the Senate and the regulation posts that were installed on the planet, many senators didn’t know what to make from it.

The Senate was truly bewildered. Didn’t the people of the Galaxy know what atrocities the man had committed?

No matter what the public thought, in order not to sentence themselves to another war, the Senate agreed to delay or utterly change the sentence.

Once again Darth Vader had to stand a trial, but this time publicly.

The media jumped at the opportunity. Many reporters were sent to different parts of the galaxy to get answers.

The information they found was a bucket of cold water, spilled over the Alliance leaders.

Many articles popped out and with every one of them, the new government grew more and more bewildered.

Stories of Vader allying himself with local rebels to overthrow the Moff in charge of the planet, of him helping the flooded Akiva and other planets having a crisis due to some natural disaster.

Vader was even found responsible for the final liberation of Ryloth, and the death of more than several dozens of warlords from the Hutt clan.

One really fearless reporter even went to Mustafar and got access to Vader’s mission reports. But the real gold found there was an old videotape from around the creation of the Empire. Unfortunately, parts of the video were destroyed (after all Sidious couldn’t allow his apprentice to see Kenobi and his very-much-alive wife escaping the hellish planet), but the reporter still managed to acquire one spectacular Jedi fight (even if they couldn’t see what it had to do with Vader, anything connecting the Jedi was finally allowed once again).

All these articles were slow blows to the government and the idea that they protected.

The final blow came when the public required a meeting with Darth Vader.

At first, the idea seemed fine, after all, what else could possibly go wrong.

They had forgotten the request put in by Luke Skywalker after it came to light that Vader might live. The request for extra medical attention.

The man that they led into the studio had little visual connection to the imposing Dragon of the Empire. The only similarities were the built and the height.

His face was half-covered in a clear mask, showing on full display his scars.

And there were scars. Every visible inch of his skin was covered in scar tissue and was so very pale, that it was whiter than the stormtrooper’s new armor.

The interviewer, the screen directors and staff were starting for quite some time, brought back by the insistent cough of Luke Skywalker who was the one guarding the ex-Sith.

The live broadcast started with easy questions with not so easy answers:

“Are you really Lord Vader?”

“If that’s not your real name, what is it?”

“Why are you in the state of requiring life support suit?”

Then it came down to the hard ones:

“Why were you sentenced to execution in the first place if you haven’t actually done anything of the things they accused you of?”

Darth Vader’s real name was apparently Anakin Skywalker. He had been Jedi for more than ten years and a General in the Clone Wars for three.

He described his life as a Jedi, his inability to fit in because of his past. He explained the non-attachment rule of the Jedi, about the age at which people were accepted into the Order. Anakin told them that the Jedi couldn’t have strong relationships with their birth families and non-Jedi (a fact which surprised the Jedi in the room as much as it surprised the staff). He told them about their decision that a nine years old was too old to become a Jedi (the statement was met with denial and outrage).

He explained that during his years as a Jedi, the Order was mistrustful of him and because of it he grew closer to his friend in the Senate - the Chancellor.

Anakin started talking about the Clone Wars, about the horrors, the atrocities. He told them about the planets ruined because of the inability of the galaxy to listen.

The ex-Sith told them about the clones, his men, who were bred to die and never even complained about it. He told them stories about heroism far beyond the capability of anyone else. He told them about their lack of rights. He told the galaxy how his men fought for the Republic, killed for the Republic, sacrificed their lives for the Republic and the same Republic never gave them citizenship but treated them as objects, possessions.

Almost every member of the crew was moved by his words.

Anakin continued telling them that even if many tried to stop it, the war continued. He told them about how he fell in love, right at the beginning of the war. How he and his angel agreed that they could not live without one another. He told them about the little secret wedding on a Mid-Rim world.

If there had been someone who hadn't been crying, now they were.

Anakin was breathing hard, silent tears running down his cheeks.

He explained the strain the war put on people, who then put the blame on the Jedi. He told them how The Senate ordered the Order around, how they were forced to follow their orders so the Jedi could keep the little favor of the public.

He told them about the propaganda, about the campaigns, about the millions of people dying because there was no more food. About the greedy corporations and clans that spend all their money on more droids and clones, feeding the war machine more and more.

They had called him The Hero With No Fear. He and his Jedi Master became The Team - The Hero and The Negotiator. Unbeatable.

But ironically they were. They were beaten more than once. He had been constantly afraid -for his men, for his wife, for his student, for his brother.

A sob cut off his speech allowing, letting the silence settle.

Finally, they had the courage to ask him how old he had been during the war.

The man, the war veteran left with almost nothing to show for his accomplishments, answered “I was 19 when they sent me on the front. I was 20 when I became a General. My padawan, my apprentice was 14 when they sent her on the front. My men were 10 years old. For those of you, who had read about the war from your pads or in school, let me tell you how old was the youngest Commander- 11. There were teens on the front fighting, getting shot, being tortured for information, and nobody then, found it strange and unnatural,” the man was stopped by a hard pat on his shoulder. Luke Skywalker was looking forward, not seeing anything with a glassy look over his eyes.

The silence was like a heavy blanket over the people. There was horror, anger and sadness, oh so much sadness, in the air, drowning the inhabitants.

Anakin started talking once again. He told the galaxy about Count Yan Dooku of Sereno, once a Jedi Master and a Sith Apprentice, Master of Makashi. He told them about Asajj Ventress, once Jedi Padawan and a Sith Apprentice. He told them about the terror bringing Jedi Killer General Grievous. He told the galaxy their stories, their tragedies. He told them about their deaths.

Anakin was breathing hard, mind somewhere else. He took one much-needed pause and spoke about the rise of the Empire.

He told them about his wife's pregnancy, he told them about his mother’s death. He told them about the sleepless night and the pressure of both sides - the Senate and the Jedi.

The Dark Lord told them about Sidious, about the Grand puppeteer, the master manipulator, the Sith Master behind the war.

Ignoring the viewers' shock, which resonated through the Force, he told them about Order 66, about the Jedi Purge and his own involvement. He told them about the round of applause, Palpatine received when he took control over the galaxy as a whole.

Anakin took a deep breath and told them about Mustafar “I was sent there to kill the Separatist Council. On my way back I met my wife, my angel. She begged me to come with her, to help her raise our baby together, to be happy. She only wanted from me, to come back to her.”

There was something that was utterly broken in Anakin’s gaze, “I didn’t accept, instead I called her a liar and... I tried to kill her.” His voice started trembling from emotions too intense to be understood. “My Jedi Master, Obi-Wan engaged me in a duel to keep me away from her. To keep the galaxy safe from me. We fought as we have never fought before, and in the end, he won - he cut off my three remaining limbs and left me to burn on the shore.”

The broken man ignored the sharp intakes of breaths, the gasps and the sinking feeling of horror that was filling the room.

After a tense pause, Anakin continued “I was found by the Emperor who saved my life and put me in that torture device he called life-support. When I woke, the first thing I did was ask for Padmè, only to be answered that I had killed her.” His voice became more and more emotionless as he kept talking, “Later I found out I had had a psychotic break caused by the stress and lack of sleep. In my weak state, Sidious had managed to influence me even more than before. You asked me why I allowed them to accuse me of crimes I haven’t committed? Because even if I had been manipulated, influenced and lied to, I am still the person who took those choices. I am the horrible human being that helped a man commit a genocide, helped a man create a dictatorship and I am a man who deserves nothing else than the same sentence I sent so many others to.”

The silence that followed was heavy, pregnant and absolutely no one had an idea how to break it.

Finally, a movement caught their attention, and the staff all turned their heads to follow the path of the war veteran and the Jedi Knight out of the room.

Right before they made their exit, Anakin Skywalker turned and said “I did the good things in her name. In the name of Padmè Amidala Skywalker, who supported democracy until her dying breath. I did it in the name of Shmi Skywalker who let her son be taken away, while she was left in slavery. I did it for my son and daughter who could have grown in a better galaxy if it weren’t for me. I did it for the bright-eyed free boy who wanted to free all the slaves.��� He took one last calming breath, “I did it because the galaxy needs more people ready to help each other.”

A quiet laugh broke through the grave silence, and for the first time today, the Jedi Knight spoke, “Come on, Father. You promised to show me that restaurant.”

The father and son left, leaving the reporter and his crew gaping like fish.

Finally, someone managed to say, “We can't edit any of this. This was live.”

Nobody answered, letting the silence fill the room once again.

...Or an idea, continuing my Sidious is Sympathetic! Fic. There was more but it got deleted... again. I think I went a bit overboard so, sorry.

In addition, I started series connected to this AU on ao3. If you want, you can check it out here.

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Eve’s Coven

Here are the vampires I mentioned earlier, along with updated bios for some old ones. A lot of stuff is WIP so keep that in mind:

Allen Lecarde: A drifter vampire and hopeless romantic, he fell in love with Rika Amano and turned her without her consent, ruining their blossoming relationship. Miserable and remorseful, he wandered about the city until Eve’s coven took him in. His power is WIP.

Amon: The oldest and most powerful vampire and the leader of the coven. Eve calls him a close personal friend, and he has been alive for thousands of years. Unbeknownst to all, he is also the father of Nadia, Dracula’s adopted daughter. He is an extremely powerful wizard and has the incredible power to negate natural laws, cancelling out things such as gravity or momentum or density... or increasing/kickstarting them if he sees fit.

Bartholemew Comstock: A pilgrim from the 17th century, he wandered off from his colony and nearly died in the wilderness, finding salvation in Eve, who claimed to be an angel… she just left out the “fallen” part. Miserable upon learning he was a vampire and deeming himself an affront to God, he went into hiding for years,eventually coming to believe that there was little meaning to his actions if he was damned to Hell. He begin to strike down and feed off those he viewed as sinners, all the while bemoaning his miserable lot in life and fearing retribution from God.

Beatrix Cullen: A black widow type serial killer who loves to carve up her victims with a chainsaw. She is an incredibly skilled seamstress, and utilizes this in conjunction with her power, which allows her to give life to the lifeless, essentially allowing her to create golems without use of spells or scrolls. She has a very special project lined up utilizing her seven favorite husbands, but she’s looking for just the right head...

Cyrus Lovelace: A former slave owner, Confederacy member, and all-around unpleasant person who captured slaves and auctioned them off to vampires as cattle. He was the one who purchased Dahlia from her parents for her infractions and had rather untoward plans for her before Dracula broke up his operation. He has the power to hypnotize people with his voice.

Dallas Ryder: A white cowboy from the late 1800s, he was hunted relentlessly for the crime of loving a black man. He dedicated much of his time to roaming the South and slaughtering any Klansmen he found without mercy. He was eventually captured and nearly lynched, but he was rescued by Amon. He has the power to control the trajectory of any projectiles he releases as long as they remain within his eyesight, be it bullets from his gun or a paper airplane. The efficiency of the projectiles is also increased. 

Dee Comporre, Giorgio Nero, & Mr. Viticcio: Three members of Cosa Nostra who once worked to enforce the will of an extremely powerful criminal in the 1920s. Giorgio is their leader, and has the power of magnetism, capable of feats similar to Magneto from X-Men; Dee is incredibly violent, paits her face up like a skull, and has the ability to secrete corrosive acid; Mr. Viticcio wears a coat, hat, sunglasses, and has a heavily bandaged face, and has the ability to stretch his limbs out like rubber. It is unknown if their names are real or aliases.

Elizabeth Bathory: The Blood Countess herself. After evading death in the 1600s thanks to Eve, she became a loyal follower of the demon, and was recruited into the Order of the 1800s. Dracula and Rasputin managed to defeat her and supposedly kill her, but Bathory is notoriously hard to slay. True to her infamous reputation, she tends to “Feed” by bathing in the blood of her victims. 

Elvis Chavez: A big fan of Elvis growing up in the 60s and 70s, Elvis wished to someday be like the impersonators he saw at his father’s bar. He got his wish in the 80s when he went to Vegas, but was often ridiculed by his peers for portraying the chunkier Elvis of his later life due to his weight. He became a vampire mostly out of spite for those people, hoping to outlive the even as he indulged in gluttonous behavior. He is absolutely unashamed of his gut and kept his chubbiness even after he was turned. Power is WIP.

Flanagan & Tantomile: A pair of psychic vampire twins.

Jack Fairchild: Jack the Ripper himself. He has the power to travel through shadows. He is the most hated and feared member of the coven, and he has committed nearly every atrocity you can imagine, gleefully. He views himself as above laws and morality. He was once a student of Dracula, and the lover of Rose Milliner, but was swayed to join Eve and slaughter his peers at Dracula’s school. After Rose rejected him, he went on to become the cannibalistic, immoral spree killer he is known as today.

Kane Dødsstreik: A Nordic warlord. He has a quiet intensity and is in general given a fair amount of respect. He stands at 6′5″ tall. He has the power to use his voice as a weapon (a la Black Bolt); he tends to speak softly and infrequently, though this is less because of his power - which he has complete control over - and more because he finds most of his fellow coven mates unworthy of his words.

Kristoph Hollenfeuer: A former Nazi who commanded a secret paranormal investigation branch known as Enigma. He has the power to generate tracking bombs from his hands.

Michelle Kitt: Once a notorious cat burglar in the 50s alongside her husband, she would steal from the rich and give to the less fortunate (though she would still keep some for herself). After eventually settling down, enemies she’d made broke into her home, killed her husband and daughter, and left her face cut up and scarred heavily, as well as costing her an eye. She has the ability to ignore the rules of sacred hospitality, allowing her to enter buildings uninvited at the cost of her pronounced combat skills being weakened, as well as the power to move silently.

Mickey Harrelson: A former hitman and one of the new Order. His power is WIP.

Nestor Sokolov: A lost cosmonaut, whose supposed death was covered up by the Soviet Union after he burned on reentry. While he did suffer severe burns, he managed to survive, and was saved from death by Amon. He often still wears a modified space suit to hide his face. He has the power to phase through solid objects. 

Pierre Labeau: A man hailing from Louisiana, he was born with a disfigured nose that made his upper class mother feel ashamed. She locked him in the attic, his only friends and interests being the various spiders therein; eventually, his mother even cut his nose off, something he would return to her in kind before killing her. He began to kill people like her, snobbish upper class twits, cutting off their noses and slitting their throats. He learned of the phrase “cut off her nose to spite her face” and decided to dub himself Spider Face after the mondegreen one could discern from the phrase. He was eventually caught in the act and driven into the bayou where he supposedly died, though Amon in truth allowed him to join Eve’s coven. His love of arachnids caused him to gain their powers, making him much like Spider-Man, as well as giving him incredibly virulent venom. While he certainly isn’t totally wicked, he also revels in being something of an area boogeyman and proudly proclaims himself a villain any chance he gets.

Piper Sanchez – One of the new Order. Formerly a young, mute homeless man. Loves rock music and has a guitar. Has the power to control and empower rats, which he can do with his music.

Rhapsody Von Braun: Hailing from the early 60s, Rhapsody was an artist who had her career derailed by workplace sexism, which led to a car accident that permanently damaged her leg and led to her becoming a drug addict. She spends a lot of her time sleeping, and walks with a cane even as a vampire. She’s rather sweet and pleasant, though she is a bit scatterbrained. Her power is to make drawings she draws come to life.

Ryo Amano: The elder son of the Amano family and a criminal mastermind, for years he served alongside Jemima Mathers, regulating crime in the city and ensuring his work would go unhindered. However, his cruel past caught up to him: when it was revealed he had his sister violently beaten and kicked out of the family, and that he had driven his own mother to suicide by making her blame herself for her daughter’s disappearance, he had to go into hiding. Eve soon discovered him, and his lineage was revealed to him - his father was Amadeus Zephyri, which made him a dhampyr. Granted vampirism, he soon found himself in possession of a powerful new skill. Where his father could stop time, he could essentially utilize a localized acceleration of time, causing negative effects to rapidly occur, such as allowing a decrepit pillar to crumble or to cause a knife wound to fester and kill the victim immediately. 

Sawney Bean: The infamous Scottish cannibal of legend, transformed into a vampire by Eve as he was about to die in his sealed-in cavern alongside the remains of his family. He eventually decided to give in to the ultimate vampire taboo and consume another vampire; finding he liked the taste, he continued to eat other vampires who crossed him, eventually twisting and transforming into a terrifying monster with metal teeth and claws that stood well over seven feet tall. He rarely ventures out from his hideaway unless called by his masters.

Walter Sherman: A good, kindhearted man who ever since the 1910s always looked to the future and was excited for progress. After his wife and two children died in a freak accident, he attempted suicide, but was turned into a vampire instead. Power Is WIP.

Wayne Nicol: A former circus clown. He has the ability to enter people’s minds and utilize their most powerful fears against them.

[skelebonecentral]

Hothouse rose chapter 1

a reverse harem with the lust boys

first we gotta meet the basic skeles

words under cut

Frisk was your cousin.

They’d run away, a week after their mom passed away. Your aunt, their other mother, was frantic and your whole family had gone out searching, as well as most of the town. You’re so glad it was your dad’s oldest sister who first caught sight of the monsters and not the sheriff or someone not quite as sensible.

Frisk came back from the mountain that loomed above your town with a whole civilization behind them.

Yeah, they tried to hook their mom up with Toriel, the strong, kind, and welcoming goat woman who was the Queen of the monsters, but Frisk was just a very romantic kid in general. They flirted as a hobby, it was hilarious and you were so glad they were back and safe to continue cracking you up with it.

They hugged everyone and apologized for scaring them, that they figured out that just because they were hurting didn’t mean it was okay to hurt other people, when they finally got the chance to exit the monsters’ camp after the police and government and all kinds of things showed up.

Still, you had to admire them for how much they grew up if that was what they wanted to say right away. Well, sign. Frisk was mute, after all.

Having them home was so nice, and their new friends were awesome.

You met Toriel first, of course, and her ex-husband, Asgore. You felt sorry for the big fluffy guy, he looked so hopeless and sad when Toriel would glare at him. And Frisk called him Dad, that was so cute, cause he just lit up. It was weird, though, feeling so pitying toward a ten foot tall goat man with huge horns and a long golden beard who had been alive for centuries longer than you.

Still, you liked both the goat people, and Monster Kid, Frisk’s new bestie who ran around with them. He was…well, he was a monster kid. Lizardish, with a tail and yellow-orange scales, but no arms to speak of. It made him top heavy, since he was humanoid, so he fell over often. Frisk seemed very fond of him, and you were glad. They hadn’t had a lot of luck making friends with other human kids at school before all of this.

But Frisk, being the eternal matchmaker they were, decided YOU needed to get in on this whole monster friend business.

Of course, you didn’t realize it until Gyftmas. It was a monster holiday from Snowdin, a small town Underground, that centered around gift giving and involved Santa for some reason? Anyway, the monster community was holding a carnival inside the local event center (it was mid-September so there weren’t any OTHER holidays to do) and your little cousin, being the ambassador, was of course invited and they brought you as their plus one.

Did you forget to mention that Frisk was the ambassador for monsters? They are. Well, at least in name. That’s their official title, is Ambassador, but they’re more like a figurehead while Toriel and Asgore handle the actual statecraft. The adults do let them cut ribbons and make speeches, but they’re just not ready for something that complicated. They are only six, after all.

But back to the carnival, Frisk brought you, and took you to a particular booth.

The booth was decorated with several action figures from an old 80’s cartoon that you used to love watching reruns of, and the sign above said, “THE GREAT PAPYRUS’ TRIVIA BOOTH!”

Frisk beamed as they dragged you, and looking in the booth, there was a very tall soldier-looking fellow who seemed to be a skeleton.

“HELLO, DEAR FRISK! I SEE YOU BROUGHT A HUMAN WITH YOU!” he called exuberantly, waving with bright red mittens. He had a black something or other on under the white chest piece of…oh that’s not actually armor. As you got closer, you’re now aware its made of fabric and the lines and emblem on the front are felt pieces sewn to it. The big round shoulder pads are attached, too.

Frisk signs eagerly, “Hi Papyrus! This is my cousin, Y/N! I wanted them to try your trivia!” Their hands are going very fast, and they’re bouncing, so they’re very excited about this.

“OH!” the skeleton stands up, showing his very obvious spine in his black whateverthatis and the odd ultra-short shorts that match his chest piece. “HELLO, HUMAN Y/N! I AM THE GREAT PAPYRUS AND IT IS A PLEASURE TO MEET A RELATIVE OF MY DEAR FRIEND, FRISK!”

He holds out his hand, and you shake it, feeling the long fingerbones underneath and finding yourself grinning like an idiot. Holy heck, an actual skeleton was talking to you. Your inner child was screaming with joy in their Jack-skellington slippers. Frisk had to have known…well, how could they not, your room is covered in Halloween and skeleton themed knickknacks.

“H-hey, Papyrus, I’m super glad to meet you, too!” you didn’t mean to stammer but you’re trying not to freak out as your arm is nearly shaken from its socket. He’s so STRONG!

Frisk giggled and signed something too quick for you to parse, and Papyrus let you go, “OH, ALRIGHT! HAVE A GOOD TIME, FRISK! YOUR COUSIN AND I WILL HAVE A BATTLE OF WITS!”

They scampered away and left you with the skeleton, who pulled out a fold out chair, setting it in front of his booth and then sitting in his own behind the counter, “ALRIGHTIE THEN! HUMAN Y/N, YOUR CHALLENGE SHALL BE TO ANSWER TEN QUESTIONS ABOUT MONSTER CULTURE. THE MORE YOU GET CORRECT, THE BETTER YOUR PRIZE! BEING FRISK’S COUSIN, YOU SHOULD DO VERY WELL!”

“Don’t be so sure, Papyrus. I have some wicked test anxiety,” you joke, and he blinks his sockets at you.

“NO NEED TO BE NERVOUS!” His smile seems set in his long jawed skull, but it actually tilts up a bit more, “SOMEONE WHO LOVES OUR FRISK IS BOUND TO BE A GOOD LISTENER AND KIND SOUL, SO I HAVE FAITH IN YOU. FIRST QUESTION!” he whipped out a set of cards, “WHAT IS KING ASGORE’S FAVORITE DRINK?”

You smile, happy it’s one you know, “Golden Flower Tea. He likes tea in general but that’s his favorite.”

“CORRECT! WOWIE, AND SO CONFIDENT!” Papyrus seems just as pleased as you are, “NEXT ONE! WHAT WAS THE FIRST SECTION OF THE UNDERGROUND CALLED?”

“Ah,” you had to think a moment, then said cautiously, “I think it was the Ruins?”

“YOU’RE RIGHT.” Papyrus then set two further action figures from the same set as his decorations, “THESE WILL MARK YOUR SUCCESSES! ALRIGHT, NEXT!” He shifted his sockets in a comical manner that you had to fight your instinct to laugh at, “HOW MANY MOVIES HAS METTATON, OUR BELOVED STAR, PUT OUT AS OF TODAY?”

You blink…and you have to guess because you honestly don’t care for Mettaton’s version of movies, “28?”

Papyrus’ jaw just falls open, and he sets another figure on the counter, “I THOUGHT FOR SURE THAT WOULD STUMP YOU! I’M FLABBERGASTED. YOU MUST BE A VERY DEDICATED FAN OF METTATON, JUST LIKE MYSELF.”

You blush, “N-not really. His music and dancing are great, but the movies go over my head, I guess. I only watched one because Frisk wanted me to…”

He chuckles, “AT LEAST YOU ARE HONEST. I WATCH THEM FOR THE FUN OF SEEING EVERYONE ELSE’S REACTIONS, HONESTLY. AND THE SET DESIGNS! THEY’RE VERY WELL DONE, AFTER ALL.”

“Oh, yeah, I did notice that. I bet a lot of Broadway plays would love to get his input on that front.”

Papyrus perked up, “BROADWAY? I KNOW A STREET BY THAT NAME BUT I GET THE FEELING YOU’RE REFERRING TO A THEATER OR SOMETHING SIMILAR.”

“Kind of?” you quirk your mouth a bit, not really smiling but thinking about it, “It’s a street in New York City with lots of theaters on it that’s famous for having the best in plays and musicals in the country. It’s really a cool place, from what I hear.”

“OOH! I SHOULD LOOK UP MORE ABOUT THAT LATER. ANYWAY!” He gets out a set of note cards, “I WROTE ALL THE QUESTIONS DOWN SO I COULD HAVE LOTS OF CHOICES. YOU’RE DOING A LOT BETTER THAN SOME PEOPLE!”

You were getting excited now, wondering what he could ask.

“OKAY! WHAT WAS THE NAME OF OUR LOST PRINCE?”

You frown. That was a serious question, and you think back to Frisk’s descriptions they would give you now and then of their time under the mountain. “Asriel.” You remembered thinking his name sounded angelic.

“ANOTHER FIGURE FOR YOU!” Papyrus plops the next figure on the desk and…

“Is that the villain? I didn’t know they even made a figure for him.” You can’t help yourself, not when you’d loved his antics as a kid. “Lord Verminator, looking good.”

Papyrus gasped, “YOU LIKE ALIEN WARLORDS OF JUSTICE?! I THOUGHT HUMANITY HAD FORGOTTEN THIS CLASSIC SERIES! I HAVE EVERY FIGURE EVER MADE EXCEPT FOR THREE, AND EVERY EPISODE ON VARIOUS VHS TAPES. I WILL HAVE TO ASK FOR FRISK TO BRING YOU OVER AND HAVE A MARATHON!”

You nod eager, “I know I haven’t been able to see every episode. I only got a few episodes they put on an old cable channel but it was so good. I managed to salvage some merch from antique stores, but it’s never been enough.”

“THERE WAS MORE THAN ACTION FIGURES?!” Papyrus is awestruck, orange sparkles appearing around his skull. “OH THIS HAS TO BE FATE! MY FIRST HUMAN FRIEND HAS A GROWN-UP COUSIN WHO LOVES THE SAME SERIES AS I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS? SERENDIPITOUS!”

You finally laugh and nod, “You’re so peppy! How did Frisk manage to keep you a secret? I wish we’d met sooner now.”

His sparkles increased, and he began pumping his fists up and down eagerly, “DO YOU REALLY MEAN IT? BECAUSE IF SO, I AGREE WHOLEHEARTEDLY! LET’S GET THIS QUIZ OVER WITH SO WE CAN GUSH ABOUT OUR FAVORITE THINGS INSTEAD!”

He takes a notecard and asks, “WHAT IS THE SYMBOL OF OUR KINGDOM CALLED?”

“The one Toriel wears, right? I think…it was the Delta Rune?”

“YES!” the card was set down, a figure was placed, and another card picked up, “WHO IS THE CAPTAIN OF THE ROYAL GUARD?”

“Undyne.” You sigh, “She tried to suplex me the first time I had to go to Toriel’s to pick up Frisk.”

“OH, THAT WAS YOU?” Papyrus tilts his skull, and you notice his sockets are slightly uneven. You also notice you like hearing him talk, even though he’s very loud. “SHE TOLD ME SOME HUMAN CAME AND MANAGED TO DODGE HER GRAB. SHE’S BEEN TRYING TO GET FASTER AFTER THAT.”

You want to comment, but Papyrus gets another card, “WHO CREATED THE CORE?“ he stops, frowns, then tosses the cards behind him, “THAT ONE WAS ACTUALLY A TRICK QUESTION, BECAUSE NOBODY KNOWS WHO DID IT! AND AS MUCH AS I LIKE TRIVIA, I’M MORE EXCITED ABOUT TALKING WITH YOU.”

Smiling, you take his elbow when he offers it, despite him being two feet taller than you, even in his flat bottomed red rain boots, “That’s pretty flattering. What was the prize for the quiz, though? I’m curious.”

“A DATE WITH YOURS TRULY!” Papyrus laughed, “NYEHEHEHE, BUT I HAVE A FEELING HUMANS WOULD BE RATHER INTIMIDATED BY SOMEONE AS HANDSOME AND CAPABLE AS MYSELF, SO GIVING YOU A TOUR SEEMS MUCH NICER.”

Papyrus led you around the event center, pointing at the various booths and explaining them, even sometimes introducing you to the monster manning it. You didn’t see hide nor hair of Frisk for the rest of the evening, but you didn’t really notice. Papyrus’ enthusiastic rambling and genuine glee at showing you around kept you glued to his side gladly.

When the crowds had thinned out considerably, you asked, “Papyrus, this has been the most fun I’ve had at a fair in years. I’d really like to do more cool stuff like this with you, so maybe we could exchange numbers?”

He froze, then turned, big sparkles appearing again, including inside his sockets, “WOWIE, REALLY?! OF COURSE WE CAN! I REALIZE IT IS LATE AND HUMAN BEINGS NEED PLENTY OF SLEEP TO BE HEALTHY, UNLIKE THE GREAT PAPYRUS, SO LET US HURRY!”

He shoved his phone into your hand and you gave him yours, typing in your number and naming yourself with a balloon emoji on the end to remind him of the fun fair you’d shared together. You get your phone back as you hold out his, and it says “THE GREAT PAPYRUS” with a skull emoji and a gold medal one on the end.

“Perfect! Feel free to text me whenever, but I might not answer if I’m busy or sleeping.”

He nodded, “I UNDERSTAND! I WILL PROBABLY BE TEXTING YOU QUITE OFTEN, BUT FEEL FREE TO TAKE YOUR TIME. UNDYNE SAYS I TEND TO RAMBLE WHEN I’M EXCITED. AND I’M ALWAYS EXCITED! ESPECIALLY WHEN I MAKE A NEW FRIEND.”

You nod and bid him goodbye, getting a back-cracking hug, before he rushes off into the fair and you head toward your car. Frisk had texted you earlier to say they were going home with Toriel, so you rode back alone, glad for the break so you could process your night with the personification of optimism that was Papyrus.

--

You got texts from Papyrus every day. Multiple texts in a row, about ten different times a day, and about just about any subject that was on his mind at the time.

“JUST GOT BACK FROM MY MORNING JOG! I HOPE YOU’VE HAD A GOOD MORNING SO FAR!” at 5:30 am.

“IF YOU NEED ANYTHING AT THE STORE TODAY, I WORK AT SMILE MART! MY SHIFT IS FROM SIX TO TWO, SO FEEL FREE TO SWING BY FOR A VISIT.”

“I LOOKED UP BROADWAY FINALLY! THERE’S SO MUCH TO LEARN! IT’S BEAUTIFUL!”

“UNDYNE IS STILL DOING SPEED TRAINING TO TRY AND OUTMATCH YOU. I CAN’T WAIT FOR YOU TWO TO OFFICIALLY MEET ON BETTER TERMS!”

That was the general gist of his messages, just little windows into his day and topics that related back to earlier conversations.

You would answer him between classes, since you were a freshman in the local college, and once you were off around noon, you’d head to Smile Mart and see Papyrus in action.

The first time you actually were able to see him at work, he was meticulously arranging the dairy section, making every gallon of milk have the handle facing the same direction in his white button up, black pants, and bright pink apron.

Hearing you approach, he snapped upward and his face lit up, “HUMAN Y/N! HELLO!” Standing to hi full height and brushing himself down, he posed like a soldier at parade rest, “HOW DO YOU LIKE MY DAPPER WORK ATTIRE?”

You smirk a bit, just in an effort not to laugh out loud at that pose and speech combined, but answer honestly, “You make it look good.”

“THANK YOU! I’M AWARE!” he grinned, then got back to his task, “THANK YOU FOR COMING IN. WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING FOR TODAY?”

That sounded suspiciously like a work script rather than just Papyrus being himself, but you shrug it off, “I don’t need anything in particular at the dorm, so I’m just gonna grab one of those yogurt and fruit smoothie drinks over there when I head out. best breakfast treat.”

He looks at the items you’re pointing at, then nods in approval, “FRUIT AND YOGURT ARE GOOD CHOICES FOR A MORNING BEVERAGE. AND DORMS? ARE YOU PERHAPS A MEMBER OF THE CLERGY?”

You do laugh at that, “No! No, I’m a first semester freshman at the university. You have to spend your first semester on campus if you live more than a certain distance away and unfortunately, my house isn’t in the right range.”

“OH. THAT’S QUITE INTERESTING!” He rubs his chin, “I WAS ACTUALLY CONSIDERING GOING TO THE COLLEGE MYSELF, BUT SANS ISN’T EXACTLY A FAN OF IT.”

“Is that the brother you told me about at the fair? The one who sleeps?” Papyrus had mentioned he had a brother who was lazy and slept a lot, but not the name.

“YES. HE NAPS ALL NIGHT AND FREQUENTLY DURING THE DAY ALSO!”

You grin as he waggles his brows. He had noticed how you didn’t like his wording when he’d said the same line about “napping all night” at the fair, and now he teases you with it. “Still called sleeping, Pap.”

He chuckles good naturedly and shrugs, “WHATEVER IT’S CALLED, THAT’S WHAT SANS DOES. SLEEP, EAT, AND EMIT SLIME.”

“He emits slime?”

“SOMETIMES. FRISK SAYS THAT IS ACTUALLY CALLED DROOL UP HERE. NOW I’M WONDERING IF MY BROTHER IS RELATED TO DOGS BECAUSE THEY’RE THE ONLY ONES I’VE SEEN WHO DROOL QUITE AS MUCH AS HE DOES WHILE SNORING.”

The visits become routine after that first one. When you get a break during his shift, you just go to the store and buy some kind of single serving drink. Yeah, you wish they were in cardboard cartons or glass instead, but all your bottles do go into your recycling bucket at your dorm. It’s more an excuse to talk to Papyrus, anyway.

He asks more about the university, and when you ask him what he’d major in if he did attend, he has a very good answer already, “SPORTS MEDICINE! I’M A VERY GOOD HEALER NATURALLY, AND I LOVE ATHLETICS OF ALL SORTS, SO WHY NOT COMBINE MY TWO PROCLIVITIES INTO ONE CAREER PATH? UNDYNE DOESN’T NEED ME ANYONE ELSE IN THE GUARD NOW THAT WE’RE UP HERE, AND I WANT TO BE HELPFUL.” He scratched his chin a bit before adding to the end, “WELL, MORE HELPFUL THAN I AM CURRENTLY ANYWAY.”

That’s a great idea, you think, and you encourage him to go for it. After all, he’s got so much energy, you’re sure any course of study will be a breeze.

It’s kind of surprising when, a few weeks later, he texts you excitedly, “I GOT MY ACCEPTANCE LETTER! NEXT SEMESTER WE’RE GOING TO BE CLASSMATES! ONCE IT’S TIME, LET’S CHOOSE OUR SCHEDULES TOGETHER!”

Wow, he really does go for what he wants, doesn’t he?

--

Great was definitely the least you could say about Papyrus by the time you two were meeting up on the first day of the semester.

He had already invited you over to his house several times, Frisk had dragged you along on lots of outings with the skeleton, and you had braved a meeting with Undyne and her adorable wife, Alphys, as part of a celebration for Papyrus’ acceptance into college.

So when his unique figure came striding up the sidewalks on campus, you immediately ran to meet him and got scooped into a twirling hug with your mutual giggles echoing off the old gothic revival buildings around the ovular clearing.

“Papyrus!”

“Y/N!”

As you were set down, you beamed up at him, “I’m so glad I didn’t start my gen ed until now. We have all semester together.”

“I KNOW! SURE, I HAVE TO TAKE THAT ONE NUTRITION CLASS WHILE YOU’VE GOT CHEMISTRY, BUT OTHER THAN THAT!” He’s bouncing on his heels and utterly pleased, and noticing his bouncing is what draws your eyes to the shorter figure next to him.

Another skeleton, about your height and blinking at you with white lights in his large, round sockets, stood next to Papyrus and waved lazily at you, “heya.”

“Oh my gosh, you must be Sans!” you were excited to finally meet Papy’s brother. “I dunno how it took this long for us to end up in the same place but I’m so glad to meet you!” You offer your hand and it gets taken with a long “pffffffffffffffffft” sound.

“SANS! I TOLD YOU NOT TO BRING THAT TODAY!” Papyrus sounds equal parts furious and embarrassed, as the bright orange glowing on his cheekbones betrays.

“had to, bro. can’t skip the classic gags,” Sans takes his hand back, revealing a small red whoopie cushion in it.

You stare, surprised, “Oh my gosh? I didn’t know anybody even used oldies like that anymore. Or did actual harmless pranks like that. Consider me impressed; you’ve got better taste in humor than most of MeTube.”

That seems to shock the smaller skeleton before you, making him lower his hand slowly. He was wearing a blue hoodie jacket over a white shirt with small stains on the chest, and black basketball shorts with white socks and pink house shoes. “uh. thanks.”

“DON’T ENCOURAGE HIM,” Papyrus huffed, “HE’LL START PUNNING AND THEN WE’LL BE HERE ALL DAY.” He pulled you forward, away from Sans, and waved at his brother, “HAVE A GOOD DAY DOING WHATEVER ODD JOBS YOU HAVE TODAY, BROTHER! I WILL BE ENJOYING MY TIME LEARNING WITH MY BEST FRIEND!”

“I thought Undyne was your best friend?” you say as he speeds away from a perplexed looking Sans, who you wave to with a helpless expression.

“SHE’S MY BEST FRIEND, TOO. YOU CAN HAVE AS MANY BEST FRIENDS AS YOU LIKE!”

--

Classes go smoothly, but you begin to notice….

Well, you see Sans pretty much everywhere.

Leaving your one class you don’t have with Papyrus, you see him snoozing on a bench outside.

While leaving your part time job sorting all the incoming books for the library on campus, there he is again, at one of the computers looking up jokes.

Even while you’re out getting a haircut, you find him running a little hotdog cart. Finally, you have to ask him what he’s doing.

“Heya, Sans,” you go up to the stand, which is currently empty. “Been seeing you around a lot.”

“why didn’t ya say hi, then, kiddo? my brother sings your praises daily, wouldn’t have minded saying hello.” He’s just got a green apron on over his outfit from before, and you smile.

“I don’t wanna intrude. Just thought I’d ask what was up, y’know? Normally it’s just students at the library. How’d you even get in the computer without a student id?” That had been bothering you for a bit.

“oh, easy. I’m faculty.”

Your brain shorted for a moment, “You…are?”

“yep,” he chuckled, waving you to a seat next to his cart. “turns out a monster phd converts pretty well to a human one. Just consulting with the physics department right now, but once the political climate settles some more, who knows?”

Something bubbles up to the front of your mind, “Oh. Oh! Papyrus said you liked physics once. I guess it’s more of a passion for you than he let on.”

“heh, used to be. might be again. dunno yet.” He looks across the street, away from you. “anyhow, frisk and pap both seem to think you’re the bees’ knees.”

You tilt your head a bit, but then see the little buzzing insects around a flowerbox on the other side of the street. “Oh! hahah, good spot. Yeah, I’m pretty lucky two really cool people decided I’m interesting enough to look after.”

Sans hummed as you both watched the bees, “yeah, they’re both kinda neat folks. My bro’s the coolest though. biased, I know, but it’s true.”

“I can’t argue there,” you feel happy thinking about Papyrus, “He’s taken to school like a fish to water. I really love finally having a friend who’s so positive. Not that my roommate’s not cool, but she’s as tired as I am usually.”

“you got a roomie?” he hums, “then why spend time with my bro? surely you’ve got more in common with her?”

“Hah!” you actually laughed. “I’m a linguistics major, Sans. She’s a botanist. Her side of the room is covered in so many plants I have to take sinus medication 24/7. Nah, she’s a good person but we have nothing in common other than living space and shared love for cheesy family-friendly rom-coms.”

You had gotten so involved with watching a particular bee rolling around a tulip that you didn’t notice when Sans faced you again. “so if she decided to get into a fight, you wouldn’t back her up?”

“Oh, no, I’d pull her out and tell her off for fighting. But she’s always in the greenhouses or labs, so I doubt she’d find anybody to fight with even if she wanted to. More likely to squeak like a dog toy and hide, if we’re being totally honest,” you turn to Sans smiling, but his expression makes you freeze.

His lights were out and the haunting blankness of his huge sockets made you shudder.

“kid, you better be telling the truth. My brother’s the best, but people take advantage of his kindness. If you hurt him, you’re gonna have a bad time.”

Nope, you were not going to stand for that. Getting up, you bolted, and as soon as you made it back to your dorm, you texted Papyrus.

You: Papyrus, we need to talk about your brother.

Papy: WHAT HAS SANS DONE NOW? YOU TWO HAVE BARELY EVEN MET!

You: We talked today and he threatened me.

It takes more than two seconds for an answer. Clearly you’d managed to rattle Papyrus (heh).

Papy: TELL ME EVERYTHING.

You explain yourself, how you kept seeing Sans around when Papyrus wasn’t there, and the incident after your haircut today.

Papyrus doesn’t answer in text, and after a moment or two you get a call from him.

“Papyrus-“

“I AM MORE SORRY THAN WORDS CAN SAY FOR WHAT MY BROTHER DID TODAY.” His voice was hard and serious, something you’d never heard before. “I DON’T BLAME YOU IF YOU’D RATHER NOT TALK ANYMORE AFTER THIS, BUT I ASSURE YOU I WILL HAVE A SERIOUS DISCUSSION WITH HIM ABOUT WHAT HE DID. APPARENTLY, FROM WHAT I GATHER, HE DID THE SAME THING TO FRISK.”

He’d threatened a child?! Not just any child either, your COUSIN! Who saved his people from captivity! You were about to ask about that when Papyrus continued. “FRISK SAYS IT WAS JUSTIFIED, BUT I’M NOT SURE HOW. BUT YOU? YOU HAVE NEVER HARMED ME, NOR ANYONE ELSE, AND HAVE DONE NOTHING TO DESERVE IT. SO, NOW THAT I’VE SAID MY PIECE, WHAT DO YOU THINK?”

You have to turn your brain back on to think for a moment. Papyrus was very dear to you, he was sweet and lifted your spirits no matter what. Still, with a scary protective brother, you weren’t sure if you wanted to be near him anymore.

“Papyrus, I like you. You’re my best friend. But I can’t feel safe around Sans and I’m kind of scared to come to your house ever again. We still have classes together, but I think if we’re going to be friends still, we can only meet out in public or at my place.” Even saying that makes you nervous. Nobody’s ever done this before, threatening you just out of nowhere.

“THAT’S REASONABLE. I CAN HEAR HOW SCARED YOU ARE, Y/N, AND I’M….WELL, INCREDIBLY ASHAMED TO HAVE BEEN PART OF WHY YOU’RE FEELING THAT WAY. THIS WILL NOT GO UNSEEN TO, I SWEAR IT!”

Tears were starting to leak out of your eyes at this point, your adrenaline leaving you tired and scared, but you smile, “I have faith in you, Papyrus. Just…I’m just scared now. I’m gonna try to calm down and I’ll see you at school tomorrow.”

“YES, THAT IS A GOOD PLAN. TRY TO BE KIND TO YOURSELF UNTIL I CAN BE KIND TO YOU INSTEAD…” There was silence, and then a very soft, worried, “I love you.”

That was enough to get you sobbing, “I love you, too. Be safe.” You had to hang up now, and you curled up under your covers to hide from the world.

--

As soon as he hung up the phone, Papyrus quickly wiped his sockets. He, too, was crying at the thought of his dear friend, who he loved fiercely, being terrified and menaced by HIS BROTHER of all people. But he was going to fix this.

Yes, he’d been far too late to fix what happened with Frisk, and Frisk themselves didn’t seem too upset by it, but YOU certainly were. He could feel it in the way you’d spoken, how very close he’d been to losing his best friend. He still might lose them.

But he’s going to make the effort to try not to.

Taking several deep breaths, Papyrus left his room and went down the stairs. Sans was on the couch as he’d expected, flipping channels on their TV.

“hey bro, what’s up?” Sans had his normal expression, and it made Papyrus furious.

“BROTHER. I KNOW WHAT YOU DID.”

Sitting up, Sans looks confused, “what do you mean?”

Papyrus took another breath, feeling his ribs fill to capacity with the cooling air that helped calm him, “SANS, I JUST GOT SEVERAL VERY FRIGHTENED TEXTS FROM Y/N, AND THEY WERE ABOUT YOU.”

Ah, there, the permanent smile on Sans’ face drooped significantly, “oh.”

“YES, OH.” Rubbing his sockets, as they had started burning like he was going to cry again, Papyrus asked, “DID YOU EVEN THINK ABOUT WHAT THIS WOULD DO TO ME BEFORE YOU THREATENED THEM? DO YOU EVER CONSIDER HOW THIS COULD HAVE MADE THEM SO FRIGHTENED THAT THEY NEVER SPOKE TO ME AGAIN? OR IS THAT WHAT YOU WANTED? DO YOU WANT ME TO BE ALONE FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE, SANS?”

“n-no, no that’s…I don’t want you lonely, paps, I just want you to be safe.” Sans’ voice and eyelights were both small and shaky. Good, he realized how serious this was.

“I KNOW YOU DID THIS TO FRISK, TOO, AND I’M JUST…SANS, YOU CAN’T THREATEN PEOPLE WHO HAVE DONE NOTHING WRONG!” He wanted to move, to do something dramatic, but Papyrus just couldn’t with the weight of his frustration and disappointment. “I LOVE THEM BOTH, AND YOU…YOU DON’T SEEM TO CARE WHAT YOU BREAK ON YOUR WAY TO WHAT YOU CONSIDER MY SAFETY. I’M AN ADULT, SANS, NO STRIPES ANYWHERE, AND I’D LIKE YOU TO TREAT ME LIKE ONE. I KNOW I’M OPTIMISTIC, I KNOW I’M SILLY, BUT THAT’S HOW I LIKE TO BE. I LIKE BEING A GOOD INFLUENCE FOR PEOPLE, AND IF THAT MEANS SOMETIMES I GET MY HEART BROKEN, THEN I LEARN, DON’T I?”

Sans was just staring at him, but he finally found his voice, “but paps, they aren’t like other folks. They’re humans, they have a lot more power and-“

“I KNOW THAT.”

Closing his mouth that had opened to argue, Sans listened. “SANS, DO YOU THINK I WASN’T SCARED WHEN FRISK CAME? I WAS TERRIFIED! I KNEW THEY COULD DUST US BOTH WITH A MOVE, BUT I HAD TO AT LEAST MAKE THE EFFORT TO SHOW THEM THAT WASN’T WHAT HAD TO HAPPEN. I WANTED TO CAPTURE THEM, YES, BECAUSE THAT WOULD HAVE MADE UNDYNE AND EVERYONE ELSE SO PLEASED WITH ME, GIVEN ME MORE OPPORTUNITES TO MAKE THE FRIENDS I WANTED. BUT…THEY LIKED ME.” Papyrus was at a loss. “THEY PLAYED ALONG WITH MY ACT AND SEEMED HAPPY WITH IT. SO I CHANGED MY MIND. I DIDN’T FORGET WHAT THEY COULD DO, WHICH IS WHY I TRIED TO GET UNDYNE TO BE FRIENDS WITH THEM, TOO. I DIDN’T WANT HER TO GET HURT EITHER, OR FOR HER TO HURT FRISK.”

Oh the tears were back and Papyrus scrubbed them away angrily, “BUT NOW I’M WONDERING IF I SUCCEEDED IN SPITE OF YOU! I’M WONDERING IF YOU DIDN’T THREATEN EVERY PERSON I’VE EVER TRIED TO BEFRIEND JUST OUT OF SOME TWISTED SENSE OF PROTECTION!”

Sans just looked at his hands, bones looking ashen as Papyrus tried to hold back his sobs. Had…had he been hurting Papyrus more than helping him all this time? Yeah, Frisk had posed a threat but the kid had made good. Really good, if he had to be honest. And he had seen nothing to really make Y/n any more dangerous than they were. And now Papyrus was crying.

“SANS, I DON’T BLAME YOU FOR BEING AFRAID OF WHAT HUMANS CAN DO TO US, BUT I AM DISAPPOINTED THAT YOU DON’T TRUST ME ENOUGH TO MAKE MY OWN DECISIONS ABOUT FRIENDS. IT HURTS, AND…AND EVEN THOUGH I’M SURE YOU DID IT OUT OF LOVE FOR ME I JUST CAN’T FORGIVE YOU FOR THAT RIGHT NOW,” sniffling a little, Papyrus couldn’t even look at his brother. “I’M GOING TO STAY WITH UNDYNE FOR A FEW DAYS. I HOPE YOU CAN LEARN HOW TO…WELL, NOT DO THIS AGAIN. THINK ABOUT THE CONSEQUENCES MORE. SOMETHING.”

Escaping back up the stairs, Papyrus quickly packed three days’ worth of clothes and essentials, then ran out the door. He just couldn’t believe his older brother had betrayed his trust like this.

--

It was pretty awkward with you and Papyrus after that.

You tried to talk like normal, but he was sad, and you were scared.

Two months after the incident, you got sick of it. “Papy, let’s go to Bungle Land.”

“OH?” he perked a little, “WE HAVEN’T BEEN FOR A LONG TIME. OKAY.”

Grinning, you took his hand and ran to your car, giving him the option to drive if he wanted. He had his license, but just hadn’t gotten around to buying the perfect car for him. But he refused, wanting to save driving for his own dream car, so you let him move the passenger seat back as far as he liked while you drove to the local theme park.

And you had fun. Papyrus was an adrenaline junkie and took you on every ride, while you were a game shark, trying your hand at the carnival games and loving the useless and low quality plushies you won from them. You both had a lovely collection of little birds, though Papyrus had exchanged five of his for a larger plush of a super hero, more to his tastes, from this trip alone. Thank stars for your yearly pass, and the lovely guest vouchers that came with it.

Finally, as the sun was going down and you were hungry, Papyrus guided you toward one of the stands before a familiar voice made your heart freeze, “hey you two. Pretzels and lemonade?”

Papyrus’ expression soured, “SANS, DO YOU REALLY THINK THIS IS THE TIME FOR ONE OF YOUR ODD JOBS? WE WERE HAVING FUN.” He’d gotten an apology from Sans a while back now, and a Promise not to repeat his blunder, but he still wasn’t sure of Sans’ intentions for Y/n.

“I really didn’t think you’d be here today, pap, swear on my bones,” Sans looked exhausted and held up his hands. “but tell me what you want and I’ll make it while I do something I’ve been meaning to.”

You just say you want a pepperoni pretzel and a cherry lemonade, and Papyrus goes for a normal pretzel with a blue raspberry lemonade, but you’re nervous. The skeleton had threatened you, after all, even if your fear of him had mostly shifted to annoyance at his cheek in doing so.

Getting your food, Sans said softly, “I know I’m nobody’s favorite person right now, so I’ll make it short. I realized I’ve been overbearing, stepped over a lot of lines, and need to work on myself. I’m really sorry, y/n, for acting like you were going to hurt papyrus when I don’t even know you. it was wrong, and I’m going to try and see a therapist to get a hold on my…paranoia.”

That…was honestly one of the best and most sincere apologies you’d ever had. You can’t help smiling, and you can almost feel the pride radiating off Papyrus for his brother. “Okay, Sans. That was a proper apology, and you haven’t done any stalking that I’ve noticed so…apology accepted. I hope your therapy goes well.”

He looks so relieved, shoulders sagging noticeably, but his smile turns more genuine and he nods, “okie dokie. Go have fun, and I’ll see you at home, paps.”

“YES YOU WILL! YOU’RE GETTING THE IMPROVED VERSION OF SPAGHETTI TONIGHT FOR THAT!” It’s heartwarming to hear the excitement in his voice, and the brighter smile on his face, “YOU DID A GOOD THING! BYE, SANS!”

“Bye, Sans,” you add, and he waves you both off. Even if he was the one who finally apologized, you felt a weight off of yourself as well, and his gaze no longer made you feel like demons were on your back.

[purplecatghostposts]

guess what, it's another free ramble pass! same stuff applies, just talk about whatever you want for as much as you want, and doesn't have to be limited to one topic!

You’re a life saver let’s GO

Okay so today I’m gonna go off the deep end and talk about some OCs and a personal project that I think about a lot so let’s talk about Haakon and Nesta, a couple of deities.

These two come from a world known as Cordtritos (Which if you’re curious, comes from the Latin words ‘Contritos Corde’ meaning ‘Broken Hearted’ or ‘Heart Broken’). Deities are often in charge of one central thing and a couple of smaller things that go with it. That being said, Haakon is the God of Destruction, along with Darkness, Power, and later is considered the God of Demons. Nesta on the other hand, is the Deity of Creation, along with Light, Knowledge, and later Angels as well.

You would think with titles like Creation and Destruction that they would’ve created Cordtritos but that’s not the case. They did not create the world, but rather, the world created them. Both of them were born into the world with little idea of the power they held and only had each other. Despite not having actual parents, Haakon and Nesta became siblings in every sense of the word and from that point on, always had each other’s backs.

I’m not going to go too deep into the background surrounding how those two realized they weren’t like other mortal beings and eventually came to be deities because that’s a whole other can of worms but eventually, the pair of them realized they had a lot more power than anything else that walked the planet. They learned their abilities over the century that followed but it wasn’t truly put to the test until war came. Or more accurately, wars.

As the moral beings of the world began to create cities and kingdoms, they began to fight as well. As unfortunate and terrible as war and conflict is, it does tend to break out between countries are at odds for resources and land. The biggest problem however was that they never stopped. Even after one country won a war, they would just end up getting into another- and this happened globally. Those who didn’t want to fight were dragged into alliances that would eventually break apart and peace was scarce to come by. Haakon and Nesta couldn’t find a reason for it and it was severely damaging the world. So, eventually the pair summoned their strength and took matters into their own hands.

Even with their powers, singlehandedly trying to stop the fighting or tip the scales of war on one side so that it could end seemed impossible so they created their own armies.

Nesta, who came to be known as The Diplomat in these times and primarily focused on creating peace between different countries, created the Angels.

Haakon, who came to be known as The Warrior in these times and primarily focused on stopping the wars through tipping the scale, created the Demons.

Neither were initially good or bad but rather, were initially built for different roles to play. However when times got tough, Angels stepped in to join the fight or if needed, Demons would help with the negotiations.

It took a long time but eventually, the wars began to stop and all their effort had finally worked (Not going to go too in detail on how they managed to find the source of the sudden aggression because this is long enough as it is but once it was balanced out, things came to calm down). Haakon and Nesta finally established peace... But not without consequence.

Because somebody always has to loose in a war. Sometimes one side takes the short end of the stick in negotiations. There’s no way to please everybody, and as much as they tried to, there was a sizable amount of people who were not happy with the deities. And for the first time in their lives, Nesta and Haakon were demonized.

Nesta was criticized for being cold, calculating, and uncaring. Only wanting the results and now caring how they got them. It hit them pretty hard because they were never as great with emotions as Haakon and always hated that they weren’t. They tried- they really did! They had plenty of sympathy for people and understood their emotions but comforting people... Wasn’t their specialty. They understood creation and its process and how things worked- they could quite literally create a whole person without too much trouble- but relating and socializing and being vulnerable especially with other people that weren’t their brother? That was something they struggled with. And hearing these accusations going around only struck their deepest, darkest insecurities and hurt.

Haakon on the other hand, was rumored to be far more violent than he let on. A warlord who only wanted power and domination- who killed with a smile on his face- who bathed in the blood of mortals for fun. And he wasn’t bothered at first. Laughed it off because yeah, he had destructive magic and was a monster in battle but he knew himself. He loved socializing with mortals! They lived interesting lives and invented so many cool things! How couldn’t he love them? These rumors didn’t get to Haakon emotionally, but they began to affect his social life. Mortals began to avoid him, were uncomfortable with him, feared him- and that began to take a toll on him. Because he wasn’t violent- honest! But everyone else seemed to think so and that was what began to screw with his self esteem.

But even still, they tried to help the mortal world anyways. Their Angels and Demons were sent out to help in any way that they could in an effort to dispel the rumors and show the people that they were only trying to help, even if they did cause problems for some. Good intentions had to mean something, right?

But you can’t kill an idea.

And it all started to go wrong when they were praised as higher beings to be worshipped and started to get followers. Some of it went well- Haakon and Nesta rewarded their most loyal followers with magical abilities of their own that would be passed down for generations. Those bonds are the bonds that they remembered fondly, but unfortunately being powerful deities means you attract unwanted attention as well. Especially if you happen to be a God of Destruction.

Some who began to worship Haakon thought destruction meant destroying everything. That by committing acts of terror, they were honoring their god rather than disgracing him further. And some joined purely with the intent to destroy in his name simply because they wanted to. Because hurting people was fun for them.

Haakon tried his best to get rid of them or at the very least, try and tell them that they weren’t getting it. Destruction wasn’t about ruining lives- it was meant to be a good thing. Destroying the things that are holding you back from being happy; destroying the socialital norms that are doing more harm than good or simply aren’t needed because the only thing one needs are morals, not norms; destruction in order to create freedom- that was true destruction.

Sometimes Haakon was able to get through to people. Often times, they rejected his message and continued to create hurt for their own amusement.

It was bad but Haakon was trying to handle it. He still believed that he could get through to these people- they were just misguided! Until they did something that would make him snap.

They targeted his sibling.

Even after hundreds of years, Haakon still doesn’t know how they managed to do it. But they lured Nesta into a trap and casted a spell of their own that corrupted Nesta almost to the point where they were too far gone. And as a result, Nesta caused mass destruction in the name of order and creation.

It didn’t just effect Nesta either. The corruption spread to every single Angel as they all ruled under their command and they began to lay siege all over the world. Nesta was so heavily affected that when Haakon tried to reason with them, they attacked him brutally and didn’t hold back. Haakon was forced to fight their own sibling to the point where he had to incapacitate them and lock them away until he could find a cure for the corruption.

Haakon traced it all back to the same group he had been trying so hard to save and he finally snapped. Because he could forgive the tarnish to his own name but not to his sibling’s, and Haakon could never forgive the fact that they forced him to fight them.

Haakon wiped them off the map without blinking twice. He managed to remove the corruption from their siblings mind and from all of their proxies. And when Nesta finally woke up and smelled the ashes, they were deeply heartbroken at the wrath they had inflicted upon the world. Kingdoms turned to ash, thousands dead and thousands more injured or in grief- it was all too much to handle. The guilt made them create a rule for themselves and all future deities that they were to keep out of mortal affairs and keep interaction to a minimum. For the safety of all.

But Haakon hated seeing their sibling in pieces so he decided to change the story and tamper with the mortal world majorly for the last time.

Memories were erased or manipulated to all except the deities. Angels forgot that they destroyed, Demons forgot what side they were on, and the mortals were lead to believe that it was Haakon who went on a rampage, not Nesta.

Haakon covered it up left and right, taking the blame despite their sibling’s protests. And thus, the mortal wrath was placed on Haakon and his Demons, not Nesta.

A massive cover up that Haakon works so hard to keep under wraps. Problem is that there’s a few inaccuracies if you know where to look.

For example, when at full power, Haakon’s eyes turn pure, glowing white. But in some paintings created just after this tragedy that happened centuries ago, the deity in them has pure black eyes, which is the same way Nesta’s eyes look at full power.

But the paintings are just inaccurate or misremembered... Right?

—

Yeah this is literally me just dumping about my made up history for one of my worlds OOPS hopefully this was entertaining in one aspect or another.

I just care them a lot. Two sibling deities trying to make it in the world and who care about each other... I think about them a lot.

[i-cant-believe-i-wrote-this]

Evaluation #7 - medieval peeps dying

I am back, my friends, glorious and blazing. 

Just kidding. Stress still has its horrible clutch on my shoulders. But I am back with another poem that I wrote 2 years ago. 

It was based on: 

A Tumblr writing prompt post,

An oral presentation my friend made about Game of Thrones, and

The imagery of a desert. 

Here’s a mood board to show you the basic imagery in my head:

And they were mixed in a caldron to form this poem:

...if blood is spilled it must spill forever.

This is to the warlord kings and tacticians,

To those who stepped over bodies for the crown -

.

You sit in sand-swept ruins,

A rusted crown atop your head;

You cannot stay awake forever

The dagger slips from your hand

.

Perhaps life is simply the crest of a wave;

Once we reach the summit

We must plummet to its depths;

And the blades we once killed with

Is poisoned on its handle.

.

The throne is cursed;

You have climbed this far

But this far only.

At first glance the poem sounds okay. I’ve got some clear imagery, a clear message, and an overarching theme. 

HOWEVER!

As usual, after examining it more closely, I found quite a few areas which I didn’t do quite well in my poem. 

Frequent meter change. The rhythm of the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd stanzas are all different, disrupting the poem momentum. 

Lack of developed setting. It’s slightly too abstract. 

Unsure identity of the speaker. In the 1st, 2nd, and 4th stanzas, the speaker acts as some sort of judgement against these rulers, but in the 3rd stanza, the speaker becomes a thinker, philosophising about this phenomenon. 

Unsustained natural imagery. I hinted at a desert with “sand-swept ruins” then contradicted myself with ocean imagery with “crest of a wave”. It suddenly shifts the visual imagery in the reader’s head and gets confusing. 

Lack of characterisation. All we know about the “warlord kings and tacticians” (are warlord kings even a thing?) is that they killed people to gain power. We know nothing of their motives, morals, or other actions. 

Thus the poem is descriptive but not emotive. It could have evoked sorrow and pity, but was unable to do so. 

Well! When I read this poem I just felt unsatisfied with it, but was unable to put a finger on it. Now that I’ve understood what went wrong, I can surely do better next time ~

That’s all for today, see you!