#he loves his feral blond son

[voiddwelling]

Shigaraki: Vlad King, we have taken one of your students hostage. If our wants aren't met, they will suffer greatly.

Vlad: You foul criminals, you will suffer if- wait.

Vlad: Which student?

Shigaraki: ... What?

Vlad: Which of my students is it?

Shigaraki: Uh. (pause)

Shigaraki: Blond, Weezer blue eyes? Laughed for a full minute then stopped abruptly to just stare at us smugly?

Vlad: ... You have Monoma.

Vlad: Good luck. (hangs up)

[strawberri-draws]

Oc family!!!!!!

[amiableness]

ummmmmmmmmmm the jealous james in the grocery store??? OMFG R U KIDDING IM GOING FERAL IMAGINING IT

Jealous james at the park when people think reader is single mum and try hitting on her

Jealous james watching reader all giggly by someone so he sends Henry to distract her

Jealous james watching the reader getting eyed so strolls over henry on his hip, making it seem like they are a couple "He wants you darling"

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHh

also also i could just imagine that whenever reader is talking to someone else both James and Henry get pouty because her attention is not on them

Just imagine james chilling out with the boys henry with him when he looks at his son and sees the most upset, angry look on henrys face and follows his gaze to see reader talking to somebody now they are both just watching all pouty and sirius and remus are laughing their heads off

or Henry being possessive over reader just like his daddy

Reader sees kid looking sad and goes over to try and help and henry just tugging on james' sleeve pointing "go get my reader"

or shes pushing him on the swings and another child wants a push "NO! my reader!"

or like whatever nickname he'd have for her because i imagine he would

like calling her love or something cuz he heard james calling her it

her boys just being obsessed with her

woah that was a lot sorry not sorry

Dad!James Potter x Bsf!Reader ☼ 762 words

series masterlist ; main masterlist

James narrows his eyes, focusing intently on you as you stand beside a man he doesn’t recognize. Your laughter carries across the lawn, a sound that usually belongs to him, and it drives him crazy. The guy next to you seems to revel in the effect he’s having, his gaze fixed on you with an admiration that makes James bristle. The way he looks at you—like you’re the most captivating woman in the room—doesn’t escape James. While he can’t deny that you’re breathtaking, the idea of another man gazing at you with such intensity unsettles him deeply.

“I don’t blame her, honestly. Corey’s quite funny.” Sirius says, reclining in the chair next to James with an easygoing air. His eyes are shielded by dark sunglasses, and he sprawls comfortably, like a content cat basking in the sun. His relaxed demeanor contrasts sharply with James, who is sitting upright, shoulders tense, and gaze fixed intently on you.

At their feet, Henry occupies himself on the patio, diligently pushing his bright red toy car along the pavement. The small wheels click rhythmically against the concrete, and Henry makes enthusiastic vrooming noises, his face scrunched with concentration. The late afternoon sun casts a warm, golden glow over the backyard.

Lily Evans is hosting the backyard get-together, blending friends from school with those she’s made as an adult. Though she is his ex, James is grateful they parted on good terms. He still considers her a close friend and values their continued relationship.

“Corey.” James repeats, his voice laced with a sharp edge of irritation. Sirius shifts his gaze from you and Corey to James, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. He’s not at all surprised by the undercurrent of jealousy in his friend’s tone.

Sirius observes James’s clenched jaw and the way his eyes narrow at the sight of the blond. “Yeah, Corey Cartwright,” he says, his tone teasing. “Real funny guy. And single, too.” As James’s gaze snaps sharply to Sirius, the latter cackles, clearly enjoying the reaction he’s elicited.

“What the fu—” James starts but cuts himself off, glancing down at his son, who is intently focused on his toy car. He then turns a sharp glare at Sirius. “Are you serious? Because this isn’t funny.”

“You know what is funny?” Sirius says, casually pointing in your direction with his bottle. “If you don’t make a move soon, Y/N might end up with this guy.” James watches, his stomach churning, as you begin to hand your phone to Corey. Corey takes it with a smooth, confident smile, the conversation animated and easy. The interaction only fuels James’s unease, making him more anxious about the situation.

“Henry!” James says, his voice tinged with urgency. “See Y/N over there? Why don’t you go show her your car?” Henry looks up at his father with wide, curious eyes before scrambling uneasily to his feet and darting toward you, clutching his toy car tightly.

James watches as Henry tugs at your jeans and raises his arms, a clear signal he wants to be picked up. His gaze softens when you bend down and lift Henry effortlessly, settling him comfortably on your hip. You still clutch your phone in your hand, but your attention is entirely on the three-year-old now. Henry’s face lights up with a delighted smile as he nestles against you, and you respond warmly as he shows you his car.

The man standing next to you frowns in confusion, clearly thrown off by the abrupt change in the dynamic. He looks between you and Henry, trying to make sense of the scene, while James’s unease resolves itself.

“Pathetic,” Sirius sighs, his voice tinged with a mix of disappointment and amusement. “You should ask the poor girl out instead of scaring off all her options.” He stands up, stretching before heading into the house. As he walks away, James watches him go, his mind racing with scenarios of confessing his feelings to you.

That’s a problem for another day, he decides.

Turning his attention back to you and Henry, James takes in the sight of you gently cradling his son, your face softened by a loving smile. The way Henry clings to you, completely absorbed in the moment, makes James’s chest tighten with a mix of longing and protectiveness.

Corey remains beside you, still looking confused and shifting uncomfortably, clearly feeling out of place. James notices and decides to step in. “Sorry to interrupt you two,” he says, giving Corey a brief, blank glance. “He really wanted to see you, darling.”

please reblog or comment with your thoughts! they are very appreciated and keep me motivated to keep writing! 🤍

[b0nten]

HOW ARE BABIES MADE?

[SYNOPSIS] ˚⁀➷｡ ran, rindou, sanzu, takeomi, kakucho, mikey and izana being asked by their children how babies are made.

[NOTES] ˚⁀➷｡ reader is implied to be fem, reader is called “mother”, “mommy” etc. this was so fun to write!!! thank you anon for requesting <3 also, i used tenjiku&bonten characters but everything’s taking place in the final timeline.

RAN is definitely the type to try to explain the entire thing, without any second thoughts whatsoever. He’d definitely hear the question, and open his mouth but before gets to say ‘sex’ he feels a book flat against his head. “what do you think you’re doing?” you whisper-yell from the kitchen, curry udon long forgotten on the stove. “explaining to your daughter how she spawned into the world?” he answers, dodging another decor item that you aimed toward him. upon asking, dramatically and over-exaggeratedly of course, so offended because he just doesn’t know what he was doing wrong, you just stare at him. “we agreed to tell her when she’s 14. she doesn’t even know boys have dicks and you want to explain the entirety of sex and how it goes to her? do you even know how it works?” he sighs, defeated, “let’s go eat, sweetheart, i think i made mommy a lil mad.” he says, picking up his daughter, “that last part was uncalled for, by the way.” “suck it up, mr. club owner. ”

meanwhile, RINDOU simply freezes: “daddy, how are babies made?” what? excuse him? oh my lord, he did not expect this to happen this early. why the hell is his five year old son asking him about coital activity, right when you’re not around? fuck him (himself), fuck this situation, fuck you for not being around right now (both figuratively and literally). “you see! when… uhm.. when two people love each other and they kiss, they make a baby!” he mentally face-palms for what the fuck he just said. “so you can’t kiss girls until you’re twenty-one, yeah?” finally, thankfully, his phone rings, and thank the heavens it’s you. “oh my god, y/n—” “rindou, what did i just hear on the baby cam?” “haha, my love! funny story!!!!”

SANZU just goes feral. he’s having a fucking anxiety attack or whatever so he just texts you while your daughter asks her daddy about how babies are made.

TAKEOMI plays it safe, using the infamous stork. “and it just comes flying?” “yeah, it carries a little basket with its beak and gives it to us!” he smiles, playing into his baby girl’s fantasy. “you sound just like my parents.” you smile and his gaze averts to yours, from his seat on the living room carpet. “well, your own stories inspired me, because, to be honest, i was about to shit myself.” “daddy!” the little one yells, stretching out her palm, “1000 yen!” and her father exasperates “god put me out of this misery of only being an atm, you’re just like your mother. ow! what’d i deserve that punch for?”

KAKUCHO handles it like a pro. “papa.” one of his little girls walks up to him, younger twin following her right behind. “yes, pretty girl?” he straightens his back and crouches down, still sitting on the couch. “how are babies made, papa?” the shyer one asks and his face drops for a split second. “i promise to tell you when you’re older, right now it’s classified information!” he jokes, and the girls giggle. “now… who wants to watch doraemon!!” he does the jazz hands and the twins jump into his lap. not long after, you sit down next to them. “if i didn’t know any better, i would have said you rehearsed those lines from the moment you were born.” you laugh, resting your head on his shoulder. he wraps an arm around you, chuckling, and kisses the crown of your head.

if there’s someone (who thinks they’re) escaping this question, it’s MIKEY. “ ‘tou-chan, how are babies made?” blond locks spin toward him, and the big eyes of his daughter look him up and down. “ ‘tou-chan?” she says again, a bit annoyed. mikey sacrifices the motorbike races he’s watching and looks back at her. “ask ‘kaa-chan, i’m not really good at biology.” he smiles when she jumps from her place and runs into your bedroom, where you’re blow-drying your hair. confident that he’s just dodged a bullet, manjiro returns to his priority — the tv. moments later you storm in, hair half wet, still in your bath robe with the kid in your arms, visibly furious. he knows he’s dodged a bullet but is about to get hit by a cannon.

IZANA is at the dining table doing some paper-work for tenjiku and you’re watching tv when your oldest marches into the kitchen, determined. “daddy.” the blond looks up, eyeing back at the spitting image of himself. “yes?” he answers, and you also look back to see what’s going on. slamming a big book on the table, the toddler points to the cover “how are babies made?” you burst out laughing and your husband snatches the book away, making you laugh hysterically. “where’d you find this?!” he questions, and his forehead is already soaked with sweat and he wants to bury himself into the ground. “your office.” he can’t believe his five year old son walked in there and just so happened to find this book: effective positions for baby-making. his cheeks redden and he scans the room to find you and request your help, but he’s greeted with the sight of you rolling around on the living room floor, trying to calm your laughter down. yay.

[autisticrosewilson]

It's not that I hate fanon or that I think fanon is inherently less intelligent or morally wrong, but a LOT of fanon is based in racism, misogyny, and classism that I feel like a lot of you accept without question.

WHY is Duke (Daredevil, son of a god, has never once allowed himself to be defined by anyone's actions but his own) relegated to a background role, only characterized by reacting to the whims of other bats?

Why is Babs - Birds of Prey leader and backbone of the hero society, tells Bruce to fuck off and die 4 times a day and is constantly ruining her relationships by being biased and unhinged - Gotham bound, the mature responsible mom of the group who never argues with Bruce and never gets in trouble?

Why is Dick, both a tactical genius and master manipulator, a himbo only appreciated for his sex appeal? Especially when he is both Romani (group of people demonized and condemned as hypersexual by their nature alone) and an SA victim.

WHY is Damian "feral" and "uncivilized" despite being raised as a literal prince? Half of you treat him like a sociopath with no hope of redemption for an unfunny three second joke and the other half of you go full throttle into Bruce's white savior bullshit so that Damian can be "redeemed". Y'know when you're not villainizing Talia and acting like Dick is his other parent, actually.

WHY is Stephanie - extremely intelligent detective who can't stand Bruce and has a living mother she loves - lumped in as another member of the Batfam, a blonde ditz who only cares about prank wars and emotionally supporting Tim?

WHY is Cass - intelligent, a grown adult, suicidal perfectionist - emotionally intelligent, primarily existing to support the characters around her, immediately accepting of everyone she meets regardless of her own morals?

Why is Bruce the golden standard? Enough so that though everyone in the fandom could agree that he's an emotionally unstable wreck, being considered "the most like him" is seen as a compliment and not the HIGHEST insult? Everyone would agree if I said that Bruce purposely self sabotages his relationship half the time and the other half he simply does things without caring about the emotional impact it will have on people because he has to be the smartest in the room, but if I said that makes him a shit partner and emotionally abusive parent the fandom would bend over backwards to argue with me.

Why is Tim "the best Robin" when Dick Grayson invented the mantle, it is impossible for someone to embody the spirit of Robin better than him because he made it and he created what being Robin means. Maybe Tim is the best in Bruce's eyes, but what Robin means and who has the right to give it over was a significant thing they argued about. Tim the high school drop out, and yet also somehow the smartest? Tim "the most like Bruce" except no he's not, that's Cass. Poor neglected, abused, victimized little Timmy (the rich boy at the elite boarding school with loving albeit busy parents and almost every instance of him being victimized by another character has either been racist bullshit - The Al Ghuls and Rose Wilson- or a complete 180 for the character that made no sense when examined through the lens of prior characterization - Jason for instance.)

Almost every fanon trope that gets passed around like gospel seems to deliberately push POC characters and women into the background and strip them of interesting complex traits and stories, usually for the purpose of fitting them all into bite sized incorrect quote character types and uncomplicated narrative roles that are not only completely divergent from canon, but primarily exist to prop up the two rich white boys.

Also the insistence that Bruce, a 20 year old at the time, should actually be excused for how much he mentally and emotionally fucked Dick up because really they're more like siblings! While deciding that Dick at the same age was actually the perfect candidate to be Damian's new parent/guardian...have you lost the fucking plot you don't even make sense to yourselves.

Okay I lied at the beginning, I do hate fanon. You guys are so uncritical about the media you consume it is BEYOND just letting people enjoy things and have fun. I guess it's one thing if you KNOW this stuff isn't canon and UNDERSTAND why these tropes are problematic and you engage with it as such, it's fine read and write what you want, but just spreading the same nonsense around and parading it around as "better than canon" (version of the character so bland and boring you've somehow made the old white men at DC look like geniuses in the art of representation) is just infuriating.

[latenightdaydreams]

https://twitter.com/ADULT1z/status/1771716362068488554?t=7VvsSwP2-YWROrjIg27kKg&s=19

Can you please write about Konig with his wife who lactating without getting pregnant, like because of her genes. Konig definitely goes feral about that. ❤️

He would have hit the jackpot with y/n 🤭💗

König x Lactating!Wife (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List

>cw: fem/afab, lactation, masturbation

König has his arm wrapped around you as you both snuggle, watching your favorite movie. His hand slips past the collar of your shirt and into your bra, twirling his fingers around your nipple. He gently squeezes your nipple, as he always does, but this time, a small bubble of milk came up. Without realizing it, he rubs his finger over your nipple and feels the wet sensation.

His attention instantly went from the movie to your breasts. He squeezes your nipple once more, expressing more milk out. Annoyed, you push his hand away.

“Liebling, you’re lactating? Are you pregnant?” König reaches forward for the remote to pause the movie.

“No,” a giggle carries in your voice, “I just do that.”

“We’ve been married for three years, I’d know.”

“It’s only the week before my period, when I rarely let you touch them because they’re sore.”

König just looked at you with a face of confusion but also excitement. His eyes drop to the small wet patch that has appeared on your shirt. He bites his cheek as he thinks about all the amazing things he can do now.

“Can I see it without your shirt?”

“I’m not in the mood Kö.” You pout.

“No sex. You can keep watching your movie. Please?”

When you look at him, you can’t help but to smile at how pathic he is for your breasts. “You’re lucky you’re cute.” A playful tone carries in your voice as you pull your shirt off and unhook your bra.

König watches closely as your breasts fall from their place of captivity. You should be braless 24/7. If it were up to him, he would ban them from this house. He resumes your moves as he pinches your nipple again. He sees the milk rise to the surface and smiles.

“Don’t be rough.”

“I won’t.” König whispers as he pinches your other nipple to see the milk leak out, but it squirts out and farther, spraying the coffee table. “Wow…”

König looks up at your face to make sure you aren’t feeling any discomfort. He sees you look at him with a smirk before turning back to the movie. Moving back to the breast closer to him, he squeezes hard. Milk sprays out in different angles, causing König to let out a groaning sound. The fabric of his pajamas tightening as his cock becomes erect.

He leans in, tongue reaching out and tasting some of the milk dripping from your breast. The second the sweet, warm drop touched his tongue, he instantly became addicted. His massive body closed in around you as he grabbed your breast and squeezed milk into his mouth.

Laughing, you push him. “König, you’re blocking the TV.”

“Oh, sorry.” He chuckles.

Instead of leaning over you, he lies on your lap. Your breasts dangling above his face. What a lovely view. One of his hands reaches out to squeeze your breast again. White pearly beads roll down his face and soak his hair.

König leans up slightly and latches to your breast. He sucks hard a few times, allowing your sweet tasting milk to fill his mouth before he swallows and drinks more from you. His hand assisting by squeezing your breast so tightly it gets red.

“Gentle.” You whisper and run your fingers through his blonde hair.

“Mmm, don’t stop touching my hair.” The soft tone of your words and the way your fingers feel make him shiver.

He removes his hand from your breast. Instead, he begins to pull down his blue plaid pajama bottoms. Once his cock springs free he wraps his hand around, pulling back his foreskin. With slow strokes he begins to jerk off. His mouth getting so overflowed with milk that a bit spills from the side of his mouth, causing him to moan. The sensation of your warm milk filling his mouth as you pet his hair is orgasmic in itself. He feels like a naughty step-son with his big breasted step-mom.

“Can you spray me?” His voice shaky with pleasure.

A smirk on your lips as you lean back and grab your breast. You squeeze it and watch the milk spray over his face. When his greedy mouth comes up to latch again, you pull back. His eyes open, a look of confusion on his face.

“Will you be a good boy?”

His eyes light up as he realizes what you’re doing. “Ja, I’ll be the best boy for you.” Every word is uneven as he strokes his cock in a rapid motion. “Please.”

[lscullzthegreat]

fluffy/funny silm headcannons because I can't be sad all the time

I saw someone else make a post in this vein and thought it was funny, but Fingon didn't earn the title the valiant from some great noble deed, he earned it because he told Fëanor to shut up at a state event (to both Maedhros and Fingolfins relief) they started jokingly calling him Valiant and it stuck, (it became far truer than either of them could foresee)

Not even technically a headcannon but I've seen way too many people characterize Maglor as shy. THAT BOY IS LOUD he has 0 internal volume, and he's a musician as well as a second son he is the life and soul of every party he's ever been at, he makes state dinners bearable

Maedhros loves babies, like adores them, and he's good with them (he has so many little brothers and cousins how could he not be) he has a gift for getting small children to fall asleep on him, and he is the kind of person to hear a baby crying in a restaurant and instantly look up to check on it.

Elrond whistles, constantly , if he's not in a situation that requires him to speak or absolute silence he's whistling, he doesn't even know he's doing it half the time. it drives Gil-Galad crazy.

Celegorm had a tooth gap as a little kid and looked like the cutest little blond thing ever (he was actually the most feral little kid ever) he was THE "mooommmm it followed me home can I keep it," type kid the 'it' in question could be anything from a faun to a full grown bear

Caranthir CANNOT keep his thoughts out of his expressions, the amount of times Maedhros has had to tell him to "fix his face" in public is insane.

Curufin had a sweet tooth, like a massive one, Nerdanel caught him sneaking cakes and cookies so often she stopped caring and just started leaving them out (along with sliced fruit in a desperate attempt to get him to eat something healthy) he passed the sweet tooth down to Celebrimbor

Finrod, Maedhros, and Fingon used to play cards together, they would all try to bribe Galadriel into helping them cheat, Maedhros won her over the most often to Finrod's consternation and Fingon's amusement.

[juneoirs]

Hay! Heh, I am a fan about your post, and i was wondering if you can do a bakugou x y/n post where they are 25 and have a 6 year old son named kanji that looks and acts like bakugou, and they are at a grocery store and kanji sees a toy and makes a BIG tantrum embarrassing Y/n, and bakugou let's out his strict father side, aka bakugou is 1 hero, so... yeah.... rich.. THANK YOU 😭

𝓒𝐎𝐏𝐘 𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄

you loved your husband dearly—even though his attitude sometimes felt like wrangling a feral cat, you couldn’t imagine your life without him. katsuki was a great husband and an even better father. somehow, he managed to juggle being the number one hero, a title that came with endless demands, while still making time for you and your little family.

and then there was kanji. your six-year-old son who was, quite frankly, a miniature katsuki in every sense. the same fiery attitude, the unshakable stubbornness, the sass that could cut sharper than any blade. even the way he’d glare at people—it was uncanny. sometimes you’d swear you were looking at a younger version of your husband.

it wasn’t just his personality, either. kanji’s wild blond hair, sharp crimson eyes, and even the way he crossed his arms when he was annoyed? all bakugou. it was as if the universe had taken katsuki and hit the copy-paste button without consulting you first. you couldn’t help but feel a little robbed—after all, you were the one who carried him for nine months, dealt with the swollen feet, the cravings, the mood swings. and yet, kanji turned out to be a walking, talking katsuki replica.

but honestly? you didn’t really mind. even when kanji’s temper flared, or when he mimicked his dad’s bossy tone, it made your heart warm. because as much as katsuki’s attitude could be a challenge, you loved everything about him. and seeing those same traits in kanji, no matter how chaotic they made your days, was a reminder of the love the two of you had built.

you always knew how much your son looked up to his father—it was written all over kanji’s face. every little thing katsuki did, kanji wanted to do, too. he’d follow katsuki around the house, mimicking his movements, copying the way he crossed his arms or the gruff way he’d say, ‘tch’. kanji’s biggest dream, even at six years old, was to be the number one hero, just like his dad. and katsuki? oh, he ate that up.

“when you’re older, kid, i’ll show ya all the tricks.” katsuki would say, ruffling kanji’s already messy blond hair. “i’ll make sure you’re better than all those extras out there.” kanji’s eyes would light up every time, and the two of them would launch into some over-the-top conversation about training regimens and hero rankings. their bond was undeniable, built on the same fiery ambition and drive that katsuki had passed down to him.

but with that bond came the attitude. katsuki’s attitude. and you swore sometimes it was your curse to deal with two versions of the same fiery temper under one roof. kanji had inherited more than just katsuki’s looks—he had the same sharp tongue, the same unrelenting sass, and the same way of glaring at you like you were personally ruining his day when he didn’t get his way.

you loved your son to pieces, but oh, how your patience was tested.

you swore sometimes you could feel your eye twitch when your six-year-old son had the audacity to sass you. “kanji, clean up your toys.” you’d say, only to be met with an exasperated; “ugh, fine, mom. i’ll do it later, jeez!” complete with an eye roll so dramatic it could win awards.

“watch your tone, kanji.” you’d warn, and from the next room, katsuki would shout, “oi, don’t be talkin’ to your mom like that, you little brat!” and yet, you’d catch him stifling a laugh when kanji wasn’t looking, because deep down, katsuki knew exactly where the kid got it from.

there were days you swore you were outnumbered—two bakugous against one you—but deep down, you couldn’t help but love it. kanji’s sass, as frustrating as it could be, was just another reminder of the fiery, headstrong family you’d built. even if it meant you’d occasionally lose an argument to a six-year-old.

and that’s how you ended up in this situation. you were just trying to get through the grocery trip without any chaos. that was the goal. in and out—grab the essentials and avoid anything that might set off your six-year-old son, kanji. but, of course, life had other plans.

everything had been going smoothly until you turned down the toy aisle, rookie mistake. kanji’s sharp gaze zeroed in on a display of action figures, specifically a limited-edition hero toy that looked suspiciously like dynamight himself. his tiny hand grabbed your sleeve, tugging with determination.

“mom! mom! look! it’s dad’s toy! i need it!”

you gave him a soft smile, crouching down to his level. “kanji, we’re not getting toys today, baby. we’re just here for groceries. you already have tons of toys at home.”

big mistake.

his bottom lip jutted out, his eyes narrowing in frustration. “but i don’t have this one!”

before you could reason with him, he dropped to the floor in a dramatic fashion, kicking his legs and letting out an ear-piercing wail that had heads turning from all directions. your cheeks burned as you tried to calm him, murmuring soft words that fell on deaf ears.

“kanji, stop this right now.” you whispered, glancing around at the growing number of onlookers. “you’re making a scene.”

“i don’t care!” he shouted back, tears streaming down his cheeks. “i want it!”

just as you were about to give up and let the earth swallow you whole, a familiar voice cut through the chaos like a whip.

“kanji.”

you didn’t even have to turn around to know who it was. katsuki’s voice was low and sharp, the kind that made grown adults flinch—and it had your son freezing mid-tantrum.

before you could say anything else, katsuki—who’d been a few steps behind grabbing something off the shelf—appeared, his towering figure and unmistakable presence shutting down the entire aisle’s noise. his crimson eyes narrowed as he looked at kanji.

“oi, brat. knock it off.” he barked, his voice low and firm, the same tone he used as pro hero dynamight when things got serious. kanji’s sobs faltered for a moment, but he looked up at his dad with that same fiery determination katsuki himself had mastered.

“but daddy! i need it!” kanji tried, sniffling dramatically.

“you don’t need it.” katsuki shot back, crossing his arms over his chest. “what you need is to listen to your mom and stop actin’ like a damn spoiled kid.”

kanji’s bottom lip quivered. “but—”

“no buts.” katsuki interrupted, crouching down to kanji’s level. his tone softened just slightly, though his eyes stayed sharp. “you think screamin’ and cryin’ is gonna get you what you want? not a chance. that ain’t how it works. you don’t get somethin’ just ‘cause you throw a fit. you gotta earn it, got it?”

kanji blinked up at him, his tears slowing as the weight of his dad’s words sank in. he mumbled something incoherent, and katsuki tilted his head.

“what was that?”

“got it.” kanji said more clearly, wiping his face with the back of his hand.

“good.” bakugou said, ruffling the boy’s spiky blonde hair before standing back up. he glanced at you, his expression softening slightly. “you okay, mama?”

“yeah.” you muttered, still feeling the lingering embarrassment from the scene. “thanks for stepping in.”

he smirked, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your temple. “you’ve been dealin’ with his crap all day, huh?”

“you have no idea.”

bakugou glanced back at kanji, who was now holding onto your leg, looking thoroughly chastised.“now quit the damn tears and help your mom with the list.” katsuki stood up and ruffled kanji’s messy blond hair, his version of an apology for being so harsh.

you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. katsuki turned to you with a smirk, his tone lighter now. “what?”

“strict dad mode, huh?” you teased, trying not to laugh.

“damn right. kid’s gotta learn. can’t have him thinkin’ just ‘cause his old man’s dynamight he can get whatever he wants.”

later, as you loaded groceries into the car, you noticed katsuki handing a small bag to kanji, who lit up with excitement.

“you bought it for him anyway?” you asked, raising a brow.

katsuki shrugged, smirking. “don’t get used to it, kid.” he said to kanji. “this doesn’t mean you get what you want every time.”

kanji nodded enthusiastically, clutching the action figure like it was the greatest treasure in the world.

you rolled your eyes, a fond smile tugging at your lips. “strict dad, my ass.”

“hey.” katsuki shot back, pulling you closer. “i can be strict and still spoil my kid. he is a bakugou, after all.”

[theabsolutecactus]

Some doodles from my main au where Trav's just a feral, unhinged, and unkempt rebel bastard. There's a lot of lore I can't be bothered to explain right now. All you need to know is he's a pseudo mob boss infected by the red-eyed demon. Sal being blond is also part of the lore (it's dyed)

I also have a headcanon that Travis developed a workout routine to help manage his anger so naturally Sal likes sitting/laying on him whenever he does push-ups

Also also headcanon that Trav loves creepy crawlies so that's his son Tom the centipede

[fanaticsnail]

Grand Line Playgroup

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 1,200+

Synopsis: Adoptive parents have all taken the initiative to join together with their children to form: Grand Line Playgroup. This is the way it usually goes at playgroup: filled with shenanigans, support, and most importantly love for their children. 

Themes: the adoptive parents of one piece, all children are all relatively aged 3 to 7, but Robin is 10, au they all live, modern au, platonic, not an “x reader” fic, parenting drabble, fluff, nonsense. 

Parents: Mihawk, Rosinante (Corazon), Bellemere, Dadan, Zeff, Uncle Beckman, Shanks, Garp, and Smoker.

Children: Perona, Zoro, Law(rence), Nojiko, Nami, Uta, Ace, Sabo, Luffy, Sanji, Uta, Koby, Helmeppo, Robin, and Tashigi.

Notes: A small drabble about what it would be like if the one-piece characters were adoptive parents to an assortment of their toddler counterparts. This silly brain-worm was brought to you by several conversations with @feral-artistry & @writingmysanity, and the bestest aunties @since-im-already-here & @sordidmusings. This worm got to me and I needed to get it out. Links: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Tag List: @mfreedomstuff, @gingernut1314, @vespidphoenix, @i-am-vita

Dracule Mihawk arrives at Grand Line Playgroup ten minutes early every single Tuesday. He has a personalized gothic embroidered bag for both of his children filled with snacks, changes of clothes, water bottles, first aid kits, and a book for him to read while his two children play.

He wears matching nail polish with his daughter, Perona: today, she chose pink with black accents. He has parenting down to a fine art, everything always perfectly planned for any circumstances. Zoro takes out a collection of sporting equipment and begins kicking around a soccer ball as he waits for his friends to join him. 

The next to arrive is Donquixote Rosinante. He always attempts to get there early: set up his variety of bags to ensure his son, Lawrence, has everything he needs to enjoy his time at playgroup. His hair is a blonde, fluffy mess of mopped curls, his clothes disheveled and askew, but his smile is always cheerful despite his constant exhausted exasperated state. 

Law is a quiet child, not really engaging with Perona as she sets up a mock tea-party, nor Zoro as he kicks the ball against the wall. He, instead, opts to sit quietly alone and read a picture book in comfortable silence. 

Mihawk offers Rosinante a moist towelette, gesturing wordlessly to his lips, cheeks and right eye where Law graffitied art with permanent marker on his face as he slept. Rosinante gives him a gratuitous smile, huffing his laughter as he scrubs at his face with the towelette. 

The next to arrive is Rosinante’s old work colleague, Bellemere, with her two daughters in tow. Nami and Nojiko were walking arm in arm before rushing off to join Perona in her tea party. Bellemere gives Rosinante a clap on his shoulder, nodding her acknowledgement to Mihawk before taking her elected seat. 

As the clock ticks over to 10am: a small bundle of nervous, chaotic energy bounces inside the door and over the walls. This flash of black hair was followed immediately by a small blonde child that stares, unblinkingly, at Law. Dadan is exasperated as she carries an older and asleep Ace in her arms, attempting to catch up with Luffy to rein him in and set up. 

Rosinante springs into action, offering to ferry Luffy towards his regular playmate, Zoro. As Luffy nearly joins Zoro, he is instead drawn to the sticker book Law is holding containing bugs, beetles and arachnids. Luffy becomes entranced by the stickers: and he and Law begin cataloging them by shape, size and type over pages of lined paper. 

Dadan sighs, already exhausted although her day has barely begun. Rosinante smiles and fawns over the two dark-haired boys before resuming his seat beside Bellemere, talking about the latest gossip at his old workplace and the shenanigans his colleagues' love lives.

As if on queue, Ace wakes up and immediately springs out of Dadan’s arms, hurrying over to Zoro and joining him by kicking the ball against the wall. Sabo backs into the corner of the room and glares with his pale, blue eyes at Perona’s tea-party with intrigue. 

After Dadan, in comes Benn Beckman with his niece, Uta. Uta bounces on her heels as she runs over to Sabo, doing all in her power to make the small blonde smile instead of glare. She has a cheery disposition, guaranteed to always get a smile out of the quiet boy the longer she sings and pulls faces at him.

Zeff is the next, his young son, Sanji, sprinting towards the soccer ball and easily stealing it away from Zoro. They immediately get into a heated fistfight: legs and limbs flying as they butt heads as to who's turn it is to kick the ball next. Mihawk sighs, immediately rising to his feet to play referee to the match as Beckman places Uta's bag beside Perona's. 

Arriving late, and with his two adoptive sons Koby and Helmeppo, strolls Garp. Dadan glares at him, up turning her lip in a snarl as Garp shepherds his boys into the room. The tension is thick between these two due to Garp's history of dropping off children at Dadan's and not returning to raise them himself. She refuses to help with the latest two additions to his family, although she cares for them greatly. Sabo nods at Koby, Helmeppo scoffs at Uta. 

Another late arrival is a larger gentleman with his quiet and older daughter, Robin. Sir Crocodile is dripping in luxury brands, gold rings and smells of expensive colognes. Robin immediately humors Perona, Nami and Nojiko by playing mother in their tea party adventure. 

“Mihawk,” the larger man gruffy nods in acknowledgement. 

“Crocodile,” Mihawk mirrors his tone, gesturing with his chin to take a seat beside him. Sir Crocodile takes his seat before unrolling the newspaper tucked beneath his arm and beginning to read. 

As the children interact together, the more talkative parents swap parenting advice amongst one another. 

Rosinante asks for support with Law's current food aversion. How does he get this child to eat grained carbohydrates without him gagging about the fact it's bread? Dadan is a seasoned expert in parenting at this stage, still ignoring Garp as Garp speaks to Mihawk about his blonde son’s latest interest in kendo. 

Bellemere joins in the conversation, Mihawk leaving as the topic changes to work and joining beside Beckman who is silently brooding on the chair beside Crocodile. 

“No Shanks today?” Mihawk quips at the larger man. 

“No Shanks today,” Beckman parrotted in return with a disgruntled and gruff growl. 

As if the mere mention of his name summoned his presence, in comes the red-haired Shanks in a lazy and cheerful stupor. His socks are raised to his knees, tucked into some comfortable sandals on his feet. His cargo shorts are tied loosely on his hips by a brown belt, and his patterned shirt is open to expose his bare chest. 

Glasses are lying lazily on his head as he extends an enthusiastic smile at the children before acknowledging the adults. An enthusiastic chorus of “Uncle Shanks!” echoes throughout the playspace, a flash of small bodies immediately moving to tackle and engulf the redhead in a warm embrace. 

Shanks falls on his ass, holding high his coffee cup as he laughs at Luffy, Uta, Ace and Sabo as they enthusiastically clutch at him with grabby hands. Their faces all shine with the utmost adoration at the redhead, who shoots Beckman and Dadan a wink while mouthing: “I'm still the favorite.”

Beckman sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as Dadan rolls her eyes at him. 

The adults are finally all gathered for their children’s weekly playgroup, the kids settle into playing amongst themselves once again. Shanks offers Beckman a smile before offering him the half-drunk coffee cup. The taller man takes a sip, choking on the liquid as the surprising burn of warmed alcohol scorches his throat so early in the morning. 

As their meeting draws to a soft close, a knock at the door interrupts their close knit conversation. 

“I heard there was a playgroup in here?” a gruff voice rumbled at the door. White hair and the scent of tobacco immediately sprung through the hallway. In arrived a large gentleman, another common associate of Garp, Bellemere and Rosinante who immediately sprung up to greet him. 

Smoker presented ushered a quiet child into the room, her uncertainty was one the children knew well. Immediately, Luffy sprang up from his arachnid archiving with Law and went to introduce himself to the girl. Smoker smiled at the interaction, nodding to Tashigi as an indicator for her to go ahead and play, before joining Bellemere and Rosinante. 

“Finally decided to foster, Smoker?” Bellemere smiled, embracing him into her warm and welcoming arms. Smoker returns her gesture, tapping her on the shoulder and releasing her from the embrace. 

“Foster? Not a chance,” he smirked, pulling away and smiling at the purple-haired woman, “Adopting.”

[one-idea]

I love a Roger/Rouge lives to raise Ace or a Shanks takes Luffy with him one-shot as much as anyone.

But the main problem I always have is that the ASL brothers would never meet in these circumstances. So my brain (being the mess that it is) has tired to find a solution.

What if Rodger never got sick or at least it was not as deadly as it was. Still chronic but not a death sentence. He lives and Rouge has Ace (she gets pregnant a little later then in cannon so that she doesn’t have the crazy long pregnancy but Ace is still the same age).

To keep his family safe they travel with him on the Oro Jackson. They stay to relatively calm waters that the marines can’t easily get to. Some of the crew also leave to make their own crews. This gives the marines something else to chase.

Shanks is one of the ones to set out on his own. He leaves when he’s around 17 right around the time Ace is born. It’s the push he needs to set out. He wants to distract the marines as much as possible from Roger’s family. (Buggy did the same thing. They decided to split up to cause more mayhem)

Ten years go by. Shanks visits Roger when he can but for the most part he’s making a name for himself. And he’s doing a good job at it. So good he has to lay low for a while. So he decides to go to the East Blue for a bit. Get away from the Grandline while also hiding somewhere different than Roger. (That way if the marines find him they won’t also find Roger)

It’s here that he meets a 7 year old Luffy. And it plays out much the same as cannon. He adores this little ball of sunshine. This is his boy. He doesn’t care who the boy’s blood father is this, is his boy. So he gives him his hat, has Luffy promise to return it when he’s a great pirate someday. But he leaves out the part about that being the next time they see each other because he wants to see his boy again.

When Shanks returns to the Grandline he seeks out Roger to tell him about their new family member. And Roger hears about this boy who is sunshine incarnate, who dreams to be the freest person alive, who wants to dethrone him as pirate king and goes, “I can’t not meet him.” And there’s no way he’s waiting till the kids on the sea. (Plus Ace needs some friends. Shanks and Buggy had each other, Ace has no one his own age and Rouge is starting to worry for their son.)

So they set out for the sleep island in the East Blue.

Meanwhile Grap has moved Luffy to Dadan’s care. While Luffy is out wondering around he bumps into a blond haired boy named Sabo. It takes a while but Sabo starts to warm up to the 7 year old that’s following him like a shadow.

Just in time for a new kid to wander his way into their jungle. Oro Jackson has Docked and Roger has been (discreetly) looking around for this Luffy while the crew restocks. Ace has already made his way into the jungle because even though he was raised by his parents, he’s still feral. (He was raised on a pirate ship go figure) the three boys bump into each other and through some shenanigans Ace and Sabo start to get along.

It doesn’t take long for Sabo and Luffy to figure out who Ace’s dad is. You know since they actually get to meet them.

The Bluejam pirates still happen.

Maybe Ace doesn’t like Luffy at first. He’s a little kid and is annoying in the way all older kids find younger kids that just want to follow them around annoying. But it’s more than that, because Shanks has claimed Luffy. Shanks, who Ace grew up around and looks up to, came back to the ship and didn’t want to talk about anything except for this ‘amazing’ kid. This kid who his uncle/older brother gave up his arm to save. This kid who is so ‘special’ his dad just had to come and meet him. This kid who has his dad wrapped around his finger in under a day. This kid, who is wearing his Dad’s old hat like a crown and talking about dethroning his dad like it’s his right. This little crybaby who’s not even that special. He can’t even swim!

Even Sabo has a soft spot for the kid, Sabo who is now Ace’s first friend, but he obviously likes Ace better because Luffy is such a crybaby.

But then the Bluejam pirates show up and they heard that the king of the pirates is here with his son. His son he would do anything for. Wouldn’t it be nice to get the bounty for the king of the pirates? If they have his son they can probably force the man into handing himself over. They wouldn’t even have to fight him!

They set out to capture Ace. They see him hanging around Sabo and Luffy. When they attack Ace and Sabo get away but Luffy gets caught. He gets tortured as they ask him to give up the location of the Roger Pirates so that they can capture Ace and by extension Roger. But Luffy won’t tell them anything.

Roger comes to save him. The whole crew comes along with Ace and Sabo. After this the three boys are inseparable. Ace steals some of the crew’s sake and the three swear to become brothers.

While the three boys are doing this. Roger sent some men to find the rest of the Bluejam’s crew and find out about their plan to burn Grey Terminal and how they were hired by Sabo’s father. And that settles it for him. If there was any doubt in Roger’s mind that he was taking Sabo with them when they left this island it was gone now. He thought the boy was oddly dressed for a homeless boy, finding out he was a noble explained a lot. He’s not leaving the boy in this situation. Mainly because Ace finally has a friend/brother. Finding out that adopting the boy would make a noble lose their mind was a bonus!

But what about Luffy? He knows Shanks thinks of the boy as a son. He’s know he is Ace and Sabo’s brother, and they haven’t left his side since the kidnapping. Rodger has no clue who the boy’s family is. At this point Luffy has only introduced himself as Luffy. He lives with the bandits but they are not his family. So it’s seems like he’s got no one truly taking care of him. Honestly Roger is shocked Shanks didn’t just take Luffy with him when he left.

So Roger leaves the island. Stealing one noble son. And taking what he believes to be one free child with him. (There are no parents around to claim him? It’s free real estate) they sail away right as a navy ship is approaching. And Roger would recognize that ship anywhere. It’s Garp! What is Garp doing here? Was Roger that careless with his location. The Oro Jackson hasn’t had a true Marine encounter in years (Rouge is just that good at navigating them under the radar)

Garp sees them, of course he does. Roger sees Garp grab a den den mushi, one that projects his voice across the open sea between them. Roger is expecting his regular speech about how Garp is going to catch them, about how they should surrender, really any of their normal banter.

What he is not expecting is the very loud, very panicked, very angry “give me back my grandson!”

Roger and the crew slowly turn to face the three boys. It’s not Ace. Roger would know if he or Rouge were related to Garp but he still checks Ace off the list.

It can’t be Sabo. Roger can’t imagine a reality where Garp lets his child marry a noble. Plus the kid looks nothing like him.

That leaves Luffy.

“Luffy, what was your name again?” Rouge asked ever patient

“Monkey D. Luffy!” The boy says with confidence. It’s the first time the crew has heard the surname. Well, at least that confirms somethings.

After confirming that yep this is Garp’s grandson. Who he is apparently trying to train to be a marine? Who he’s apparently hit with haki infused punches. (Roger’s been hit with those. They hurt.) Roger grabs their own den den mushi and just calls out “finder keepers.” And they sail away to cannon fire and cursing.

Anyhow the three brothers grow up together on the Grandline. Shanks visits when he can and calls once a week at least if not daily to check in on Luffy and the boys.

Whitebeard definitely crosses paths with Rogers at some point and tries to adopt the boys from him. Rogers would fight him if Rouge wasn’t already fighting Whitebeard over her babies. In the end he becomes the fun uncle. Ace adores him. This is Roger’s worst nightmare! (It’s not. There are way worse things that could happen than his son liking his rival. But Roger loves to be dramatic)

When it’s time to make their own crews Ace and Luffy both decide to start from the East Blue. Getting dropped off by the Roger pirates.

At some point Sabo found out about the revolutionary army and decided that he wanted to join rather than be a pirate. He has his family’s full support (as long as he calls once a week. If he doesn’t they will find him) When he meets his boss for the first time he almost loses his mind and immediately calls Roger’s with a “I think I just met Luffy’s dad!” To which he gets the hilariously confused response of, “You’ve known Shanks since you were ten. What do you mean you just met Luffy’s dad?”

[advantage-artrick]

the sheer amount of puppy!art content that is generated in this fandom makes me fucking feral.

honestly i've always been more of a kitten/bunny person when it comes to babygirlifying imagining my favorite characters in pet play scenarios, but puppy just fits his specific kind of needy so well. like, so well it hurts.

it's honestly my favorite thing ever, which is why i can't help but wish there was more puppy!art x patrick content being regularly posted. like, a girl needs to be fed sometimes! 🥲😭

anyway, here's my formal audition to be sworn in as a contributer to the cause.

CW: an obnoxious amount of build-up for very little smut, puppy!art but he's literally a hybrid, nsfw content (dry humping, light humiliation kink, pet play but they're not exactly pretending, lots of gay shit, etc). mdni please!

XOXO 💋

when i think about puppy art, i usually imagine him as like a legit puppy/human hybrid of sorts. like a human with real ears and a real tail who happens to have a lot of the mannerisms of a puppy (don't judge, i literally grew up on ao3).

anyway, in a world where these hybrids exist, i imagine they're considered lesser beings because they're much more instinct-driven than their full-human counterparts. however, they are dearly beloved and often kept as household assistants and companions.

hybridism is a very rare, recessive genetic trait, so children who are born with it are usually sold to shelters for millions of dollars, especially those resembling sweet, domesticated animals such as dogs, cats, and rabbits.

when art was born, he was no exception. his parents took one look at his floppy blonde ears and decided they'd rather have wealth and a "real" child instead of the. . . pet they'd just created. so, he got sold and they tried again, disappointed but still several millions richer.

the instant he was old enough to be adopted, he was snatched right up by the zweig family and put in the care of their hired nanny. their precious son, patrick, wasn't quite old enough to enjoy art's company yet, but he did like pulling on his tail and crawling after him as art rolled around happily on the carpet.

on patrick's fourth birthday, right before he started preschool, his parents revealed that they had purchased art to be his registered companion, and that they would be attending school together in the fall.

patrick was thrilled, and art didn't really care who he belonged to as long as they played with him, so from that point on, they were inseparable.

they had a wonderful childhood full of love and adventure, and they spent their afternoons and summers frolicking around the zweig estate (or whatever vacation home they happened to be staying at). they were happy together, and patrick never felt the need for a best friend who was more like him, because art was so human, it surprised him sometimes. because art was active, and funny, and sassy when he wanted to be, and he was really fucking good at tennis. they could play, and wrestle, and banter for hours, and if art liked to roll around in the grass more than he did and chase after butterflies until his legs gave out, well that wasn't strange at all. that was just art, and patrick wouldn't have wanted his best friend to be any other way (especially when all he had to do to win any argument was toss a ball down a hill and say "fetch").

now, they were in their third year at MRTA, and the zweigs' decision to enroll art in all of patrick's classes from their first semester was quickly proving to the world just what hybrids were truly capable of. despite the teeth marks decorating all his pencils, art was surprisingly good at math, and he and patrick were damn near unstoppable as doubles partners. all in all, everything was great.

but that was also when things first started to change between them.

art had never been a particularly social hybrid. he wasn't awkward or shy by any means, and he got along well with everyone he was introduced to, but if he was ever found at a party with patrick, it was because he was heavily coerced into going.

because of this, when patrick started to get invited to more and more hang outs and big events on the weekends, art found himself spending more and more time alone at their dorm.

which, he very quickly discovered, was his least favorite thing in the world.

he was so used to having patrick's undivided attention and filling the role of his companion at every second of every day. the only reason he didn't suck it up and go with patrick to every party was that he'd heard people cracking jokes behind his back about how pat couldn't do anything without his little puppy following him around.

he didn't want to hold his best friend back like that. he loved him too much to be the reason he got made fun of.

so, he stayed behind, doing his homework to pass the time until patrick came through the door hours later.

he didn't love geometry by any means, but he preferred to spend his free hours doing what he could to break the dumb puppy stereotype that followed several of the other academy hybrids around campus. those were the hybrids who weren't enrolled in classes like he was, and whose owners treated them more like pets than like people.

art wasn't one of them. he didn't sit by the door and whine until patrick came home to pet him. . . he wasn't like that. . .

but his desk chair was so uncomfortable, and could feel his insides tying themselves into knots in patrick's absence. this was the third weekend in a row that he'd been left all alone on a friday night, and he couldn't take it any more.

so, when patrick finally got home around one-thirty, he opened the door to find art sitting on the floor right next to it with his back against the wall, doodling tiredly on a trig worksheet.

"hey," patrick said, looking at him curiously. he closed the door behind him, going to stand in front of art when he didn't immediately stand up. ". . . whatcha doin' down there?"

he was clearly not sober, but it was far from the worst art had seen him. art shrugged, keeping his gaze fixed on the floor.

"my chair's too hard," he mumbled.

"and the floor isn't?" patrick asked him suspiciously.

art just shrugged again. there was aong moment of silence where patrick just watched him, waiting for him to smile or stand or something.

but art just sat there, studying the cracks between the floorboards.

patrick sighed, trudging over to sit down on his bed in relief. art looked up at him then, feeling so many things he couldn't quite explain. patrick was right there. he'd come home, but art still felt so. . . kicked. so abandoned.

"some of the guys asked where you were tonight," patrick mentioned, his hands fidgeting in his lap. "i said you were back at the dorm, and. . . some girl- god, she was so drunk- she started saying that i was a terrible owner for leaving you all alone, and that she's seen us around campus and she hates how i make you 'ignore your instincts,' as if it would weird me out or something if you ever. . ."

patrick trailed off, contemplating what exactly he was trying to say. art watched him nervously, still not moving from his spot on the floor.

"have you been?" patrick asked after a while. "ignoring your urges or whatever? i mean, a lot of people are just so surprised by how smart and how mature you are, and it's cool if that's really you, but you know i would never think it was weird if you wanted to. . . you know. . . i don't know, just forget it, man."

art frowned, shifting up onto his knees. it was true that he had been trying so hard to live up to all the things that were often said about him. he practiced pushing down feelings until he barely felt them anymore, trying to make sure no one took his place as patrick's best friend while he became just another useless pet.

now, years later, he didn't even chase the balls patrick threw for him anymore. he was so human, it hurt. he just never expected patrick to actually call him out on it.

"i wasn't even going to mention it, but when i came in and saw you sitting there like that. . ." patrick sighed, running a shaky hand through his hair. "art, you know my parents didn't spend millions of dollars on you for another son, right? they only care that you're smart because it's one more thing they can show off at a banquet. and even if they did want you to be all sophisticated and shit, i'd tell them to fuck right off, okay? i want you to be yourself. there's nothing wrong with being a hybrid, art. honestly, i. . . i want my puppy back."

art watched him sadly, unable to stop his eyes from watering. he hadn't realized how much his repression had been affecting them both until patrick had started leaving him alone. turns out, there were some feelings that came from his animal side that were just too strong to ignore.

whining softly, art tipped forward onto his hands and knees, giving into his urges completely as he crawled over to settle in between patrick's thighs. he sat back on his heels, staring up at him with his big, wet eyes.

patrick just stared at him in awe for a moment, reaching out with one hand to stroke his curls gently.

"does this feel wrong to you, artie?" he asked finally, scratching his ear with a loving smile.

art shook his head, closing his eyes and leaning into his best friend's touch. truthfully, nothing had ever felt more right in his entire life. it was such a relief that he couldn't stop the tears from slipping down his flushed cheeks.

"good boy," patrick whispered, grinning at the shiver it sent shooting through art's whole body. "i knew you were still in there somewhere."

art whined, scooting in even closer so he could rest his chin on patrick's upper thigh. patrick kept petting him for a while, allowing them to settle into the new dynamic that was gradually forming between them.

"there we go, puppy. i knew you were holding out on me," patrick breathed, holding the back of his neck possessively. "i missed you so fucking much, you have no idea. you haven't been the same since we got to the academy, baby. i just know it's been killing you, hasn't it?"

art whined again, nuzzling into the space between patrick's thighs so that his nose was pressed right up against his crotch. he inhaled deeply, basking in the unfiltered but familiar scent of his owner until he was reprimanded, his head being gently pushed away.

art didn't like this very much, and within seconds he was right back where he wanted to be, his chin resting on the edge of the mattress as he breathed it in again. patrick sighed, letting him stay there for a moment longer than before, but after a while he got embarrassed by art's persistent huffing and he pushed him away once more.

"i know i promised not to think you're weird for following your urges and all that, but i'd be lying if i said i was thrilled that one of them is trying to sniff my ass" he teased, scratching art's ears again in consolation.

unfortunately, after being on his knees and getting pet for what seemed like hours to the two of them, art was too deep in a headspace he'd never felt before to register patrick's discomfort.

the third time it happened, patrick didn't even try to push him away. instead, he reached over to grab a tennis ball from his nightstand, and tossed it lightly to art's side of the room.

art perked up, watching it fly and land on the floor by his bed. without patrick even having to give the command, he was turning around and crawling towards it.

he plucked it from the ground with his teeth before making his way back over and dropping it gingerly in patrick's lap. patrick grinned excitedly, feeling a childish glee bubbling up inside of him. the thrill he got in that moment was so nostalgic, it was almost painful.

"good boy," he praised, and then he tossed the ball again.

turns out, all art needed was a little reminder that before he was anything else, he was patrick's. he had nothing to prove to anyone. as long as he kept bringing his favorite ball back to his best friend's waiting hands, everything was going to be just fine.

from that moment on, art relaxed much more into the idea of being owned. he stopped trying to be more human than was expected of him, and every time patrick ruffled his hair and called him a good boy, he got a little more proud to be a hybrid.

people noticed, of course, but if anyone dared to mention it in a not-so-positive way, patrick was quick to tell them where they could shove their bullshit prejudices. all in all, their last years together at the academy were amazing.

it wasn't until their senior year that their relationship started to change again.

"go take a fucking shower, dude. you still smell like her," art complained one night, shoving patrick out of his own bed and onto the floor.

"what the fuck?" patrick exclaimed, disgruntled as he sat upright. "you're the one who came over here. you can't just kick me out of my bed, art."

art frowned, rolling himself up in patrick's blankets to prove just how serious he was about this.

"you're the one who left me here by myself all night to get laid, remember?" he reminded him petulantly. "you promised you'd pay attention to me when you got back but we've literally just been talking for fifteen whole minutes, you fucking liar."

"okay, okay," patrick laughed, standing up and brushing himself off. "i'll pay attention to you, move over."

"no," art snapped, pushing him back away from the bed. "i don't want your stupid fucking hands on me until you smell like you again."

patrick stood there for a minute, smiling without saying a word.

"what?" art spat defensively.

"you're jealous," patrick teased, sitting down on art's bed and making himself comfortable.

"no i'm not, that's ridiculo- can you get off my bed please?"

art jumped up from his spot on patrick's bed, rushing over to drag his roommate up by his wrists and shove him towards their bathroom.

"aww it's okay, artie. i'm sorry i left you alone for two whole hours," patrick cooed at him, reaching out to pat his head before art pushed him backwards again. he stumbled towards the shower, still laughing at how mad art was pretending to be. "if i'd known you were feeling needy, i would've stayed home with you. you know that, puppy," he promised, smiling at him lovingly.

"shut up, 'm not," art grumbled, blushing and keeping his gaze fixed on the floor as patrick tugged his shirt over his head. "just get in the shower, asshole."

while patrick was busy washing off the stench of amelia samson's rose perfume, art was occupying himself by rolling around restlessly in patrick's sheets. he wasn't entirely sure if he wanted the bed to smell like him, or if he wanted to smell like the bed, but either way he found it was impossible to just lie still and wait. he just kept on squirming until he was so wrapped up, he could barely move anymore.

when the water finally shut off ages later, art almost whined in excitement before he caught himself. patrick stepped out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a fresh pair of boxers, drying his hair off with a towel while water droplets continued to slide languidly down his abs.

"okay, art, what kind of attention were you looking for?" he asked, wandering into the bedroom and tossing the damp towel aside. "we can go play, or just stay in and chill, or i'm sure we could probably find some food some. . . where. are you okay?" he asked, finally noticing that art was fully entangled in his bedsheets.

art huffed, nodding as he tried to roll around in reverse to free himself from the evil blanket trap. patrick smirked, getting him out within seconds when he finally went over to help.

"it doesn't look like you really wanna go anywhere," patrick commented, trying to stifle a laugh. "what the fuck were you tryin' to do, huh?"

art just rolled his eyes, dragging patrick down into the bed with him by his wrist. patrick went willingly, getting them settled under the covers with art so wrapped around him, he was laying almost entirely on his chest.

art relaxed immediately, listening to patrick's heartbeat and enjoying the feeling of his best friend's fingers in his hair. he was happy to find that patrick now smelled exactly like he was supposed to, if not a little too fresh for art's taste.

"this is what you wanted, hmm?" patrick asked quietly, scratching behind his ears in a practiced, very effective motion. art shivered, rubbing his cheek against patrick's bare chest like he wanted to get closer somehow.

"i knew you were jealous, you little liar. you just want me all to yourself all the time, don't you?" patrick continued, leaning down to kiss the top of art's head.

art whined, too content in that position to defend himself against patrick's very rude accusation.

"don't worry, puppy. you'll always be my good boy, you know that."

art nodded, shifting so his leg was resting even further over patrick's thighs. much to his very subdued horror, he could feel himself quickly getting hard against his owner's hip. he made no move to get away, finding that he felt too good staying right where he was to care about the embarrassment.

patrick noticed, of course, but this happened every time they cuddled in that position. it was an essential part of it, at this point. the only tricky part was finding art a pillow to hump as a replacement when he started trying to use his thigh instead.

which seemed to be happening sooner and sooner every single time. patrick tutted when he felt art's hips start to shift against his, bringing his hand down to art's waist to still his movements.

art huffed, opening his eyes to stare up at him in disappointment.

"stop it," patrick commanded, waiting until art looked back down in submission to move his hand. "i swear, it's like you get hard at the drop of a hat sometimes. i don't see how me touching your head always gets you that fucking desperate."

as if to prove his point, patrick tugged gently at the golden curls in his grasp, pulling a needy whimper from deep in art's chest. unable to hold back despite the command, art bucked his hips forward, rutting against patrick's leg until he was abruptly pushed away and pinned down against the mattress.

"jesus," patrick breathed from on top of him, staring down at art's flushed cheeks and blown pupils, and how his lips were so wet it almost looked like he was drooling. he was the prettiest thing patrick had ever seen.

besides art trying to get himself off using his roommate as a pillow, the only thing they'd ever really done together had been jerking off (or humping various objects, in art's case) in the same bed. as touchy as they were, there were several lines they had never dared to cross, but in that moment, patrick was tempted to do so much more than they ever had before.

"what is going on with you today? i know you miss me when i'm gone, baby, but i don't think i've ever seen you this needy before," he pointed out, brushing the curls away from art's forehead so he could make sure he wasn't running a fever. "you're not sick, are you?"

art didn't respond, too tapped into his puppy side to think about anything that didn't involve getting more attention or getting off. his brain was just one big pile of, 'patrick. please. touch. patrick. hump. patrick. please. daddy. please.'

patrick rolled off when he tried to rut up against him again, grabbing art's favorite pillow from the other bed and bringing it back over to him. art took it when he held it out, but he didn't immediately start fucking into it like he usually did. he waited for patrick to climb back under the covers with him before pushing it down towards his hard, weeping cock.

even when he did start humping it, he was whining sadly the whole time, and if patrick stopped petting him for even a second, he would stop moving his hips until he put his hand back. he was being insufferable, but patrick had no idea how else he could possibly help. art wouldn't even tell him what exactly was wrong with him to begin with.

not to mention, the entire situation was made worse by how art's pathetic sounds and nonstop squirming were giving patrick the most unbearable hard-on he had ever experienced.

he was this close to just tossing the pillow aside and letting art do whatever his desperate heart desired.

"what do you want?" he asked quietly, tilting art's head up so he could look him in the eyes. "i need you to use your words or you're not getting anything, okay? what do you want, puppy?"

art keened softly, thrusting against his pillow out of frustration more than arousal. he buried his face back in patrick's neck, sinking his teeth in hard as if that would get him out of answering.

"ow, fuck!" patrick hissed, trying to pry him off to no avail. "fucking bitch, what is wrong with you?" he scolded, but there was no real anger in his voice.

art whined, sucking and licking at the skin in his mouth until there was spit dripping down his chin. patrick bit his lip, loosening his grasp on the back of art's head after a while to just let him do his thing.

"fuck," he sighed, this time for a wholely different reason. "okay, okay, cut it out. art, let go."

thankfully, art actually listened this time, looking up at him with guilty eyes. patrick's serious tone seemed to have brought him out of his instinct-mode momentarily.

"sorry," he whispered, blushing brightly.

"what's up with you?" patrick asked him, raising an eyebrow in concern. "you don't usually get like this when i hook up with someone, art. tell me what's going on up there."

"i. . . don't know," art replied rolling onto his back so he could stare glumly at the ceiling. "i feel like my skin is crawling. something's not right, i know that. . . i just- i feel like i need you. . . i don't know, it's hard to tell when it doesn't come from my human side, but it really hurts."

"you. . . need me?" patrick asked him, wondering if that meant what it sounded like to him.

"not like that! well, maybe like that, i don't fucking know-"

"maybe?" patrick asked again.

"shut up! i was feeling so good before you made me stop," art pouted, crossing his arms and turning towards the wall petulantly.

"yeah, you were literally chewing on my neck! and you were trying to hump me," patrick defended, pushing himself up onto his elbows.

"i do that all the time."

"maybe, but not like this."

art turned back around, glaring at him. it was so cute, it almost made patrick crack a smile in the middle of their very serious discussion.

"why do you always make me stop, anyway? it's not like you're not into it, i can feel how fucking hard you are," art pointed out, glancing down as if he could see patrick's erection through the sheets.

"you're never in your right mind, art," patrick reminded him, bringing a hand back up to play with his curls again to hopefully calm him down a little. "if you tell me right now, to my face, what you want to do, i will let you do it. we've just never had good enough communication for that sort of thing."

"okay, fine," art agreed, looking very determined at first, but after a moment of silence he began to shift nervously.

"i want. . ." he began, avoiding eye contact as he tried painstakingly to finish a single sentence.

"spit it out, artie," patrick teased, pulling him in closer by his hips.

"shut up," art hissed, taking a deep breath before trying again. "i want. . . to use you. . . as a pillow."

"okay, baby," patrick whispered, and it turns out it really had been that easy all along. "but do you want me, or do you just want friction?"

"i think. . . um. . . well, if you kissed me, i guess i wouldn't mind," art replied, feigning nonchalance as if patrick couldn't see right through him.

"so how long have you been in love with me, exactly?" patrick asked, smirking.

"i didn't say that."

"you didn't have to."

". . . i don't know. a long time."

"yeah? good to know," patrick responded, and then he pulled art by his neck into the filthiest, hottest, most loving kiss they had ever experienced.

art moaned desperately, his legs finding their way back to his favorite position in a heartbeat, and this time when he started thrusting, patrick encouraged it.

"that's it. there you go, puppy, just like that. . .

good boy."

i was originally planning to add a lot more smut to this, but then i decided i wanted it to be more of an intro to these characters and their dynamic, and then all of the super nsfw posts i'll keep seperate and slightly shorter!

hope you like these two because i really do, and i'd love to hear your ideas for smut oneshots i could put together for them! i promise nothing is too out there, so please fire away!

XOXO 🥰💋

[porpunta]

My reasoning for why Spider appeals to me the most:

Spider, from the point of view of a character as an element of a plot, is the one who drives the plot, learns (in fact, reveals) new information to the viewer. And this seems natural for a teenager who is eager to ask what those devices are that kill tulkuns or how those big whales are smarter than some humans. He is both a set-up and a denouement, a perfect example of an ironic father-son contrast (no explanation is necessary), and a controversial character. I liked how they didn't ruin his internal conflict and left him to raise questions from the audience (though, who does and who doesn't is a different story).

His human nature:

He is a feral creature, at least as he was in the first concepts. I like the way he looks neither Na'vi (short and muscular body, strange eyebrows, dirty blonde hair and an extra pair of fingers) nor human (half-naked, painted, dreadlocked with an apparently savage body language). He is Spider, and that's it. I actually love this unkemptness, because in fact it is the most realistic depiction of a kid abandoned to the arms of nature (yes, scientists brought him up, but let's be realistic and think about how kids grow up among friends, without parental figures (spoiler alert — they do not, they are left to themselves)).

Note on Cameron's primitive "human vs nature" or "humans vs Na'vi" conflict:

Cameron failed to make a normal message about "protecting nature and our planet". As an example, I want to give Princess Mononoke - where people (humans) aren't opposed to an alien race that is controlled directly by a large hard drive called Eywa. The message there is more realistic than in Avatar. But why do I mention this? Because, even if the first message of James failed, in the second film, the internal conflict with one's nature is presented much better, more aesthetically pleasing. People are no longer divided into black and white as in the first part (although they removed the scenes with Selfridge, where it is actually clear that he at least reflected on his actions), but imperfect people appear, that is, real people who are so different from the idealised Na'vi. Garvin drinks out of misery, works for money for his research (although, in fact, so did Grace, who literally took money for her wishful experiments from quarries set up on cut down forests), but appreciates and gets inspired by the marine world, makes contact with the Na'vi. Spider... Well, you get the idea, I'm not going to rewrite twice about that scene, which most people didn't understand through the prism of their particular worldview (which they have the right have, of course).

Overall:

Spider is really fascinating to observe, he plays the role as a kind of key that unlocks both doors and our eyes. That's why, in general, I decided to put him as the main character of my fan fiction. But that's another story.

Sine ira et studio 🦢

[celtigxr]

The Pink Dread (Master List) - - - - - Prologue: With Friends Like these

Chapter Summary: Bartimos Celtigar was once King Viserys I's Master of Coin and dearest friend, and their children grew up together... Until the regrettable accident happened.

Word Count: 4088 

Sneak Peak: “No daughter of mine will be wedded to a violent monster! He is feral, and mad, and he maimed my poor sweet dove! She’ll never be able to walk a day in her life again! Lashings will do nothing; he should have his hand cut clean off!”

Warnings: Bullying, fatph0bia, E D, Major Depression, limb loss, b0dy dysm0rphia, physical violence. (Let me know if I forgot anything)

Children are such cruel creatures. Truly, the most cruel among the living, to both man and beast. There is nothing more selfish and more self serving than a child. 

It’s speculated that children can only contain one emotion at a time, and more complex, mixed emotions don’t develop until years after puberty. Or perhaps they simply do not have the mental capacity to truly understand them until later in life. Either way, they think emotionally, and therefore selfishly. Preservation, physical but especially social, is the most important thing in their life. So should a certain individual in one’s life cripple them somehow… Well, the logical solution is to distance oneself, or remove the problem completely. 

The Celtigars were residents of the Red Keep for over ten years, before Bartimos Celtigar had married the young Lysa Lannister, the eldest daughter of Lord Lannister. Bartimos was Master of Coin, giving him reason to remain in the Red Keep with his new, growing family. Through Lysa, they had two children, Clement, then Valeana. Tragically, Lysa did not live through the birth of her second babe; Valeana was large, and Lysa was petite. Barty returned home to Claw Isle to bury and mourn the loss of his young wife, and then came back to King’s Landing with another one and a second daughter. 

Lord Bartimos remarried Lady Ursula Grafton, his late cousin’s wife. Ursula was once a Frey, and had married Lord Grafton, who was already quite advanced in his age. When he died without a male sire, the title was given to his brother, and left Ursula and her four year old daughter, Floris, without an inheritance.

The blended family settled in nicely into the Red Keep. Ursula proved far more fruitful than his first wife, and had given Bartimos another daughter, Shyra, followed by a son, Arthor, right after and survived birth. 

In the eyes of the adults, the Celtigar children were childhood chums of the Targaryen children. This is the case simply because adults don’t particularly look closely at child politics. Lord Celtigar’s girls were known to be quite peculiar, one more odd than the other, and this did them no favours socially among their age appropriate peers.  

Floris was tall for her age, thin and gangly, fine brown hair, flat chested, and had a weak chin. However, her large honey brown eyes that were framed with thick eyelashes were regarded positively among the ladies of court. Floris rarely smiled, and when she did, it did not reach her eyes. She boasted no skills, other than having a pretty voice, which she shared with her step sister and half sister. Bartimos estimated that Floris’ Celtigar blood was strong, since Celtigar women were always known for their lovely singing voices. 

Her half-sister, Valeana, four years her junior, contrasted her greatly. Valeana was quite plump and rather short. Her round head was crowned with thick, light blonde hair, and sat upon a short neck. Unlike her full-blooded brother, who inherited both hair and eyes from their father’s Valyrian blood, Valeana got her mother’s green eyes. Little Val was not regarded as a true beauty, but she was appreciated for her skills. The talented girl flourished in embroidery, surpassing her elder sister and even step mother when she was as young as four years.

Then there was Bartimos’ youngest, Shyra. She did not live up to her name, as she was quite lively, and chatty. So chatty that she was often reprimanded for talking when she was not supposed to. Shyra resembled her older sister, inheriting none of her father’s traits. Her hair was a lighter brown, and had distinctive coily curls that were the envy of every high born lady. Her dark brown eyes had long lashes, much like Floris, but her eyebrows were sparse, almost nonexistent. Despite this, and her oddly wide frame, Shyra was considered the prettier of the Celtigar girls.

The three were collectively called the Sirens of Claw Isle, despite stepping foot on its soil only a few times in the decade they lived at the Red Keep. Each girl held a pretty voice, different and unique to each. Truly the only time the three girls ever got along was when they were asked to sing bards tales during large feasts and events. Outside of that, they bickered quite often, particularly when it came to gaining the attentions of the Targaryen and Velaryon boys. 

Their brothers were blessedly absent from King’s Landing, instead residing at Claw Isle with Ursula. Had they been present, though, perhaps things would have ended differently. 

Floris, the eldest of the parade of children, hovered over the group like a silent vulture, always giving her disapproval over shenanigans that their parents would hate, much to the chagrin of Aegon and his nephew, Jacaerys, who so loved to cause trouble. Then there was little Shyla, who loved to nip at the heels of the younger Lucerys, vying for his affections. Though the minute someone else had given her a compliment, her fickle heart would switch over to another, and it often bounced between the four boys.

Valeana, however, did not care for Aegon, Jacaerys, or young Lucerys. Her eyes always followed Aemond, and unlike the other three who so often tried to put distance between themselves and the Celtigar girls they were plagued with, Aemond enjoyed Valeana’s company. In her, he found a companion, one that he failed to find in his own blood. 

However, Aemond was acutely aware of the repercussions of this friendship. Already the punchline of all his brother’s jokes, Aemond couldn’t afford more jabs at his expense if his brother and nephews knew about his close relationship with the round, plump Valeana Celtigar. Alas, no secret stays a secret in the Red Keep, especially amongst children. 

All it took was one glance by his father, King Viserys, to notice the two conversing with each other at the base of the old Heart Tree, for an idea to bloom. Viserys and his wife were already considering a marriage between Aegon and Helaena,  which meant he had two more sons to marry off and forge alliances. The Celtigars were beyond wealthy and a marriage between his Master of Coin’s eldest blood daughter and his second son, Aemond, would not only be financially beneficial, but it would at last unite the three Valyrian houses of Westeros. 

It had not been officialized, but the topic had been broached between Viserys and his Queen wife, Alicent, in the privacy of their quarters. Unfortunately, it was one conversation that was overheard by their mischievous son, Aegon, who had been creeping in the shadows, intent on stealing his father’s strong Dornish wine. 

The next day, at the Dragonpit, Aemond was pulled aside by his brother and nephews. 

“Aemond, we have a surprise for you,” Aegon spoke, brushing hair away from his face. 

“What is it?”

“Something very special,” Luke said with excitement as he took off to the other end of the pit. 

Aegon continued, “You’re the only one of us without a dragon.”

“Indeed.”

“And we felt badly about it. So we found one for you.” 

“A Dragon? How?”

“The Gods provide.”

As they neared the decline towards the caverns below, Aemond could hear guttural noises as shadowed shapes approached them through the darkness. When Luke approached him, holding a lead with a large, pink, pot belly pig, with wings on his back, all Aemond could do was purse his lips and stare, trying to contain the wobble of his chin.

“Behold!” The three of them said in unison, “The Pink Dread!”

“Be sure to mount her carefully,” Aegon says next to his ear. “The first flight is always rough…It would not be much different on your wedding night with Lady Sow-leana Pigletar, eh?”

Aegon emphasized the jest with a series of oinks and snorts, then kissy sounds, which were accompanied by Jace and Luke.

From that moment forward, Aemond avoided Valeana as if she had greyscale. Though that proved to be a bit difficult, because the Celtigar girls were relentless in their pursuit in gaining the attentions of Targaryen and Velaryon princes. Every time Valena called his name, and came running, Aegon would start making the pig noises, forcing Aemond to twist away and disappear behind furniture, or slip through a door, or hide behind the broad form of a white cloak walking by. 

King Viserys brought up the prospect of arranging the marriage between Aemond and Valeana to Lord Bartimos. The Master of Coin had preferred it would be Aegon, or Jacaerys –as close to the heir as possible– but he could not deny the friendship and fondness his daughter had for Aemond Targaryen. He only ever wished for her to be happy, and if Aemond was to make her happy, how could he deny both her and the king? 

Said in whispers when alone, Bartimos would always praise his first born daughter, showering her with compliments that no others would give her. 

“Want to know a secret, my dove?” He would say as he leaned in closer to ear, “You are my favourite. Shhh do not tell your sisters.”

Though it had not been officialized during a meeting of the small council, Bartimos was far too eager to share the news with his favourite daughter. So one morning when they were breaking fast, he had let the news slip, and from that moment forth, it was the only thing that Valeana could think of, or talk about.

Spending many hours sitting on a tuffet or settee, Valena sacrificed the delicate pads of her fingers as she embroidered her most intricate piece of work yet. A small tapestry, depicting an impressive likeness of her soon-to-be betrothed, framed with the serpentine neck of a bronze, green-eyed dragon of her creation. The head of the dragon draped over his shoulder as it faced the viewer, but Aemond’s face turned to the right to show his profile.. For the eyes she had sewn in small peridot beads for the dragon’s, and a single bead of amethyst to Aemond’s. 

It was a pre-betrothal gift. She knew he did not have a dragon, and she hoped that this small gesture would give him hope that one day he may claim one. However, she found locating him as of late quite difficult. Everytime she thought she saw him, he disappeared, as if a ghost. There was a moment where she had thought she caught him in the hall, standing next to his brother and nephews, but he had disappeared when she ran forward. When she asked Aegon where had gone, the prince merely shrugged. 

“Mayhaps he went to feed his dragon.”

“Dragon?” She blinked, and stepped closer. “He claimed a dragon?”

“Indeed!” Luke snorted. “The Pink Dread!”

A chorus of laughter filled the hall, followed by guttural snorts and oinks. 

It was a few days after that incident that Valeana had finally found Aemond alone. She caught him completely unaware when she bounded up a spiral of stone stairs and nearly bumped into him.

“Aemond!” She beamed. 

“Va--Valaena,” his eyes flickered around, hoping that no one was near. He had only recently left his brother and nephews in the lower courtyard to make his way back to Maegor’s Holdfast, and they may be around the corner, following his intentions at any moment. Out of instinct he took a step back, putting more distance between himself and the rotund girl. “What are you doing here?”

“I was looking for you,” she gave him a small, sheepish smile. “It seems like I keep missing you.”

“Really?” He briefly glanced behind his shoulder after he heard the sound of footsteps in the distance. “I’ve been busy…” 

“I just… wanted to give you something.”

He just stared at her as she pulled out a rolled up tapestry he hadn’t noticed she was holding under her arm. It blended in with her olive green dress, which overflowed with fabric to accommodate her size. He raised an eyebrow as he gingerly took it from her grasp. 

“Thank you…” Aemond’s violet eyes glanced at it, holding it awkwardly in his grasp, but didn’t unfurl it.. 

“I made it,” her arms laced behind her back as she coyly bounced on the balls of her feet. There was a deep rouge blush on the round apples of her cheeks, redder than they usually were. It made her look pink-faced, and Aemond was filled with an immense amount of loath for her because of it. 

“As an…” she looked down at her feet, which still rocked back and forth from ball to heel. “Early engagement present.” 

It was at that moment the distinct and familiar chatter of the three boys grew closer to the scene. Incredibly bad timing, for both Aemond and poor Valaena. A jolt of panic shot down Aemond’s spine as his ears rang with memories of pig snorts and oinks and images of a damned pig with wings. Bile formed in the back of his throat, heat rose to his face, and his fingers started to twitch. His panic turned into frustration, it turned to disgust, it turned to cruelty. 

“Engagement?!” He repeated the word as if it was poison incarnate. “What makes you think I’d ever marry you?!” 

It was loud enough for the whole corridor to hear, though empty aside from the three princes who stalked around the corner just in time to see the spectacle. 

Valaena’s face drops, her mouth pops open, at a loss for words. Her green eyes started to sting, her nose itched. Her panic quickly bloomed in her chest like dragon fire upon grass. “Aemond, I– my father sa—” She took a step towards him, and that would be her undoing. 

Like a cat cornered, Aemond reacted viciously and without thought. 

“Get away from me, you pig!” His hand pushed her away, and she stumbled. 

Valeana’s arms flailed behind her like a windmill, and as she stepped back trying to ground herself, her heel caught her skirts and caused her to lose her balance completely. Though it wasn’t hard ground that her back met with, it was empty air first, then it was the hard ridges of stairs, one after the other. Valeana’s legs went over her head as she stumbled down the spiral stairs, and her body kept on tumbling. Her screams were cut short when she met the bottom, when a crack was heard. Then there was a terrifying shriek of pain, reverberating through the entire Red Keep, one that would haunt Aemond for the rest of his life.

Valeana Celtigar had broken her calf bone so severely, her foot nearly pointed backwards. The Grand Maester had managed to right the leg forward, causing great deal of pain with little benefit. It was clear that she would not be able to walk, especially given her size. 

Aemond was punished by five lashes on his back, orders given by his father to Ser Criston Cole, who took no joy out of it. Alicent pleaded for mercy for her son, claiming it was a regrettable accident, but according to Valeana, and the testimonials of the Velaryon brothers who had witnessed the crime, Aemond acted out with intent to harm. Whether or not he intended for Valeana to fall down the stairs, or simply push her over, was not clarified. But pushing her was intentional, and it was meant to be mean.

 Aemond remained silent for everything. 

Lord Bartimos took a great offense to the event, and broke off the unofficial betrothal.

“No daughter of mine will be wedded to a violent monster! He is feral, and mad, and he maimed my poor sweet dove! She’ll never be able to walk a day in her life again! Lashings will do nothing; he should have his hand cut clean off!”

Bartimos stepped down from being Master of Coin when he was denied his justice. After a week of trying to be civil, he found that his integrity was compromised, and he failed to forgive what he believed was attempted murder. So he took his three daughters and went back to Claw Isle, relinquishing his position to his late wife’s nephew, Tyland Lannister.

Valeana was not the same when she returned to her ancestral seat. Once a bubbly, friendly, and kind girl with a sense of humour, and saw only the good in people, was now jaded, angry, impatient, and preferred solitude. She was in constant pain because of her leg; she was required to be carried around from place to place, which was difficult because of her weight. It was embarrassing, being carried by two or four guards on a litter, so she insisted on remaining in her room. Her peace of mind was her only hobbies: embroidery and reading. 

Her toes and foot started to turn blue, then black, which concerned the Maesters into believing that it would eventually kill her. It was similar to the sores that King Viserys had, but it was localized on her lame leg, which meant that it would slowly kill her over time if they did not do anything. So with the reluctant approval of their liege lord, they amputated her leg three inches down from the knee. The pain was worse than the break and the readjustment itself, even with milk of the poppy, but the act saved her life.

As the years passed, much changed. Valeana had stopped eating, almost entirely, until her Septa all but forced food down her throat. It became evident that his first born daughter was purposely trying to waste herself away. She blamed everything on her size. She blamed her father for inheriting his body shape, blamed the kitchens for serving so much food, blamed herself for having no self control. By the time Valeana was ten and four, she was half the size she had been three years ago. 

The Maesters advised that Valeaena needed to leave her quarters. Her doomed sadness was the result of her isolation, and she needed to step out into the world once again. However with only one leg, and no nutrients, it was difficult to move around, and Valeana refused to be carted around by guards or Septas. So instead the smithies and Maesters had designed and created a faux leg, made out of the sturdiest of woods, held on by the best steel, with a sophisticated mechanic that would allow her to walk normally after much practice.

Valeana was reluctant, skeptical, and sometimes refused outright, but with much coercion and some threats by both her lord father and stepmother, she finally relented. It took nearly twelve turns of the moon, but for the first time in five years, she was able to stand and walk on her own two feet again. 

Valeana started to change once again, but this time for the better. She still retained the walls she had built up, but her bitter, depressed personality simply graduated to a sarcastic, dry, and dark humoured. Her hobbies grew and elevated as well; embroidery turned into garment and dressmaking, reading turned into writing. She never went back to singing, finding that she had lost her voice after years of being silent. Instead, she became adept on the lute and lyre to accompany their songs. Though on top of that all, Valeana picked up another hobby, a passion, that she was not given the privilege of even before she had broken her leg: Horseback riding. She was never able to due to her weight, but now with her shedded pounds, she was able to swing her leg over a horse, and take off without worrying about the animal underneath her. 

Though as the girls blossomed to women, the impending doom of marriage became an increasing topic of family discussions. Especially since Floris should have been married off years ago. Alas, her prospects were thin; despite being the only child of the former Lord of Gulltown, her only inheritance was a dowry, which was mostly contributed to by her step father. Ideally, she would’ve been married off to her uncle, who took her father’s seat, but he had already been married by the time he took the seat (And Graftons were not Targaryens – they had no desire to marry such close relations). 

Bartimos had three girls to marry, and he would be damned if he allowed them to reach spinsterhood. 

On the other side of Blackwater Bay, at King’s Landing, King Viserys’ health was dipleting… and then it was not. The Grand Maester Mellos had passed away, and Maester Orwyle was elevated to Grand Maester by the orders of Queen Alicent. This was all against the wishes of Rhaenyra, but with her now being back at Dragonstone, there was little sway she had with the ongoings of the Red Keep. 

The decision was fortuitous, however, because Orwyle’s studies had led him to a breakthrough with Viserys’ condition. After he learned what the maesters did with Lady Valeana’s leg, he deepened his research on the King’s ailment. He started with amputating fingers that had gone completely black, leaving the king with only eight. Then, he experimented with various herbs. Using things such as honey, clove, and foreign herbs from across the Narrow Sea known as garlic and ginger, Orwyle was able to slow down the decaying process, and even heal some sores from his Grace’s body.

Now feeling leagues better, King Viserys felt inspired, happy even. He was no longer a man trapped in a corpse, and his heart was filled with hope now that the Stranger had retreated from his shadow. He still could not walk without a cane, and his hair wasn’t as thick as it once was, but Maester Orwyle assured him that if he continued these new remedies, his condition would not worsen, at least not for some time. 

Now that peace filled his bones and flesh, he needed peace to fill his heart and his home. Spontaneously, he decided that he wanted to host an event at King’s Landing, a grand one for all high born lords and ladies that wish to attend. The Royal Conclave, he called it, a season of courtship for the Lords to find wives for their sons, and husbands for the daughters. A chance for all houses to make alliances with others where distance had made it impossible. 

But it was also an olive branch to his daughter who retreated to Dragonstone, taking his grandchildren with her. After the death of Laena and Laenor Velaryon, Rhaenyra waited no time in marrying her uncle. This had angered Viserys, but over time when he realized his anger would never bring back his daughter nor his grandchildren, he silently forgave her. Her sons would be looking to find wives; a future queen, a future lady of Driftmark. Then there were the grandchildren he had yet to meet, the ones sired by his brother, Daemon, who as he learned, was blessed with the Valyrian features his eldest grandsons did not have.

Viserys had been reluctant to have Helaena marry Aegon all these years for two specific reasons: one, he hoped his wife would be reasonable and accept the proposal Rhaenyra made all those years ago for Helaena to marry Jacaerys. And two, he could not subject his soft, little Helaena to a marriage with Aegon. His first born son had proved to be a great disappointment, and age had failed to mature him. 

Though it was just not his own family he wished to bring peace to, he also wished to mend a great rift with someone who he once called friend. It had grieved him that he was not able to join the three Valyrian houses ten years ago, and he perhaps may not get a second chance. But Viserys craved peace, and the Celtigars deserved it as much as his estranged family did.

To the Seven Realms, he issued an open ended invitation; a series of events, feasts, balls, competitions, and tourneys will be ongoing for three or four moons. Houses near the capitol were welcome to host their own events should highborns wish to make the journey. Pavilions would be raised around the border of King’s Landing, and promises were made for many men to be knighted, titled bestowed, marriages to be planned, and weddings to be hosted. 

Though to his eldest daughter, to his cousin, Rhaenys, and to Bartimos, he handwritten a personal invitation. 

It is time we unite Valyrian blood. We need not destroy ourselves as our ancestors did in Old Valyria…

Author's Notes: This is a obligatory summarization of the past. I usually hate writing this, but I also didn't want to spend 2-3 chapters writing in the past when the bulk of the story happens after ten years.

Chapter one will be posted very shortly, and then the other chapters will be posted every 5-7 days. This is the first time I'm posting on tumblr, so if there is anything I should be aware about, please let me know.

Please do not re post, redistribute or plagiarize my work. The only other place this story is posted on is ao3 under the same username.

[actual-gremlin]

I think Naomi Solace got famous pretty fast. Like, after her first album fast. And I think Will was pretty young- three or four- when that happened. I think Naomi would have tried her best to protect him from the public eye, maybe going as far as not telling anyone she had a son, and being able to keep up the ruse by playing Will off as one of her security guards kids. I think she would do this, not because she’s ashamed of Will, but because she knows how the media treats little kids, and she wanted to keep Will as far away from that as possible. And then Will grows up and moves back to Texas because he needs a break from camp. He has a discussion with Naomi about her telling people about him, and she lets him know that the Paparazzi is going to go absolutely feral over him (because, let’s be honest, he’s a conventionally attractive blond man and the media loves that) and he’s just like ‘lol ok’ not really believing her, because he’s just Will, he’s not anything special. And Naomi’s like ‘ok well I warned you’ and she goes public, posting a photo on Instagram or something for like, Thanksgiving or Christmas. And her fans just lose. Their. Shit. they’re all like ‘what do you mean you have a son? What do you mean he’s 18?? What do you mean he’s hot?? Is he single? Where has he been all this time? She ends up doing a documentary for like an album or something and Wills in it, and her fans are just eating it up. They’re loving it so much they start calling her ‘Mama Solace’ (because she’s a great mom and I’m dying on that hill). And the documentary is 99% Will and Naomi being chaotic and 1% tour stuff. Idk man, just Naomi and Will being the new Celebrity mom/son duo that people obsess over. Like, people are full on making 6hr deep dive videos about her songs, analyzing the lyrics in a new light, because surely there were signs in her music that they missed, right?? People are just going feral over this new information. oh and Nico makes a cameo in the documentary for like .5 seconds and no one knows who he is, but there’s speculation that he’s Wills girlfriend (girlfriend because they didn’t get a good shot of his face, and his hair is shoulder length, leading people to believe Nicos a girl). And Naomi, Will, and Nico are just sitting, scrolling on like Reddit or something, laughing at the theories.

[sassypantsjaxon]

See, the thing that gets me the most about Zeff being Sanji's father is that it's probably just so obvious to everyone else

They're pulled off the rock together, more dead than alive, and the kid still bites at anyone who tries to pull him away from the old man. Their rescuers never decide whether it's a trauma response or if they think the two were already attached before all this happened

Sanji's a little more civilized at the hospital they're taken to, but he still refuses to be separated from Zeff. He lies and says Zeff worked on the Orbit with him. Their caretakers just take his word and assume that if Zeff wasn't his parent before, he is now

(they're not wrong)

There really aren't many reasons for a little kid to be at a sea restaurant built to cater to pirates

Patty and Carne arrive at the Baratie, not knowing what to expect, take one look at these two blond haired, blue eyed, bad tempered cooks, and immediately go "oh. this is a father and son business"

(they're also not wrong)

They are far from the last hires to come to this conclusion. Pretty much everybody who goes through the Baratie makes the same assumption

The fact that Sanji gets more upset about anybody insulting Zeff than about them insulting the restaurant as a whole doesn't help anything

Patty and Carne start taking bets on how bad Sanji's freak out is going to be the next time some one tells him 'shouldn't you have a little more respect for your father?'

It does not get better as he gets older.

In fact, as he climbs the ranks and cooks who didn't see him fighting tooth and nail for his position come in, they'll assume he's just a brat who was named second in command just because he's the owner's son

Patty and Carne start taking bets on how long it will be before Sanji will have to put the new hire in his proper place

And then the Straw Hats arrive and Sanji tries to say he's not leaving with them.

Luffy's complaining about it to the others and Zoro (dead father), Usopp (abandoned by father), and Nami (yet to accept that her father still loves her) are all just like "Well, if he doesn't want to leave his dad, then he doesn't want to leave his dad."

Luffy (doesn't know dads are a thing people usually have) is just like "???" But still refuses to take Sanji until Zeff's given his permission and Sanji's agreed to go

And it doesn't stop just because Sanji's no longer working next to Zeff for people to make the comparison

Chopper and Franky learn about this man who took in a feral kid, gave him a home, and taught him his trade and immediately go "Father" because it's exactly what Hiriluk and Tom did for them

Sanji didn't name himself Black Leg.

When his bounty was issued and he had to be given a full title, somebody looked at this blond haired, blue eyed, bad tempered pirate, this cook who fights with his feet and won't hit women, and somebody looked at him and went "I recognize this"

He was given a name in clear reference to Red Leg Zeff

The thing about Sanji and Zeff, is that despite how long it took him to admit it to himself, Sanji's always been Zeff's son