#im not entirely sure but i think its a delightful creature

[cringekind]

AGOT reread prologue -> catelyn I

i said before that i wanted to "liveblog" my reread of agot that im doing while following a podcast, i guess this is that! I say "liveblog" because I'm annotating as I read and this is more a reflection on that and general thoughts, it would be too disruptive to actually write every time I had a thought to share! long post incoming

brief heads up that if i quote something and the text is colored, that's the color tab I used when I read the book initially. I have 7 colored tabs when reading agot and they are:

yellow - world building details / foreshadowing

orange - simply pretty or funny

red - sansa / jon / jonsa related

blue - any of the other starks centric

green - literally any other character

purple - marks deaths

pink - daenerys related

For the sake of this reading post, both "yellow" and "orange" tabs will be in yellow should I quote them. Having read the book already once I'm not sure if this is exactly how I should've set it up, but hey it there. I'll probably change is for ACOK, who knows.

Sometimes I'm going to quote whatever I tabbed without comment, but not always. Only if I simply think the line is good / pretty.

Prologue

Having the POV character be Will instead of Gared or Waymar is sooooo smart. Despite being high fantasy I like that we aren't dropped into the brain of a Knight right away, but also Will being a hunter is best equipped to actually notice all these little details being told to us.

i have a lot of things highlighted that are simply wonderful to read. I know we talk about it a lot, but George really is an amazing writer, like an actual delight to read. Like this quote:

"Will could sense something else in the older man. You could taste it, a nervous tension that came perilous close to fear."

On a craft level its so good! It tells us something about both Gared (his fear of whatever is in the woods, currently being covered by surliness) and of Will (how observant he is, using all his senses, but also how intuitive he is), and on top of all that it reads so smoothly.

because of my color coded tabs it literally made me giggle to highlight the description of Waymar as "...grey-eyed and graceful and slender as a knife." knowing I'm only thinking of Jon and jonsa. Sorry Waymar, you're beauty is only important to me for ship reasons.

Another thing that struck me as very Jon like happens only a couple lines later:

"It is hard to take orders from a man you laughed at in your cups, Will reflected... Gared must have felt the same."

Despite currently doing a reread of AGOT, I've never read past this book, but this feels so Jon to me. His status as a beloved bastard creates all that tension with his brothers, I imagine the more status he receives the more his brothers feel this. Jon is capable, but then so is Waymar. Doesn't stop Gared and Will from not taking him seriously.

If this chapter had been in Waymar's POV it would have read like a detective novel. He's clearly very analytically minded, but poor Waymar that brain and bravery isn't going to do you any good here.

"It burns, it does. Nothing burns like the cold. But only for a while."

Both Will and Gared have this instinctual fear of the Other's despite not knowing they're real. Like they can feel something is about to happen. I don't believe either of them is from the North, but I wonder if the longer you spend in Beyond the Wall, the more the magic of the place gets to you.

The entire fight between Waymar the the Others is perfect. Waymar's bravery yes, but more importantly it's the perfect introduction to what will be The Big Threat Beyond The Wall for the entire series. They're so nonhuman but not in an animal way, in a Fae way. Cruel and so beyond even a strong man's power, inescapable. Will hiding in the tree was smart and all but him being smart and observant like a hunter and still dying really pushes the idea again that no man is a match for these creatures.

Bran I

Being reminded instantly that Bran is only seven in this book broke my heart so bad. Still such a baby, and on his first big boy duty, watching an execution. If I think about it too long I'll start to get mad at Ned even though he's trying to do what he can to prepare his son's for adulthood.

"He had taken off Father's face, Bran thought, and donned the face of Lord Stark of Winterfell."

Ned's first and last actions in the book being a beheading fuck me up so bad. Every action he takes in these early chapters damns him in some way down the line, no matter how noble the intentions.

"Jon was fourteen, an old hand at justice." is such a silly and yet sad thing for Bran to think. It's so younger brother of him to assume Jon at 14 holds all this knowledge inside him, considers him wise, but Jon is just a child too. It's sad knowing that Jon is expected to act like a man, will be considered a man soon.

"Jon's eyes were a grey so dark they seemed almost black, but there was little they did not see. He was of an age with Robb, but they did not look alike. Jon was slender where Robb was muscular, dark where Robb was fair, graceful and quick where his half brother was strong and fast."

Whatever could all these details mean! This is one of those details from all those Jonsa metas that really fucking got to me. Like three pages before Waymar is described the exact same way, and I'm not meant to connect them in my mind? And then eventually we find out Sansa had a crush on Waymar? idc if I'm grasping at straws it feels real to me.

I love that immediately after than Robb and Jon show just how young they are and race to the bridge. It's one of the last times they'll allowed to be kids.

"Bran thought about it. 'Can a man still be brave if he's afraid?' 'That is the only time a man can be brave,' his father told him."

I think that quote is like a thesis statement for the Starks as a family. I know their words are Winter is Coming, but all of them are eternally brave in the face of their fear. Even Catelyn, so proud of being a Tully, is a Stark in this way.

People always bring up the 'the man who swings the sword' bit from this conversation between Bran and Ned, but the more important bit is just after. "A ruler who hides behind paid executioners soon forgets what death is." This is about the Starks yes, but more importantly it's about Westeros and everyone in it. Like. I can't articulate how important it is, but this is what Ned is trying to teach Bran, not just that Bran should take responsibility for his decisions by fulfilling them himself.

Theon is such a shit, but also Jon snarking him back "I see [a direwolf] now" is the start of Jon's dry ass humor. Why did people make me think Jon is all duty and somber monologues, this kid is funny!! And he continues to be after this iirc!! Jon funny canon please remember this people!!!

The direwolf being impaled on antlers is maybe the least subtle foreshadowing of any in this series and yet it feels so smart to me! To plant this here before we know the Baratheon sigil. And that from the eyes of innocent seven year old Bran this means almost nothing, other than him remarking on how gruesome it is, but later is superstitious Catelyn's eyes it takes on new meanings!!

"He loved Jon with all his heart at that moment. Even at seven, Bran understood what his brother had done. The count had some right only because Jon had omitted himself."

For all that Catelyn has no reason to like Jon, in other circumstance she might love the guy. "Family, Duty, Honor" right? That's all Jon is! Here he is, putting his little brother's wants above all else, even as he struggles with not being Ned's trueborn son. To voluntarily bring it up so that Bran can have a puppy... the family>duty>honor is in the room with us, coming from one Jon Snow!!

Ghost's eyes being open = "but there was little [Jon] did not see" yeah, yeah exactly! soul wolves are here besties!!!!

Catelyn I

Catelyn is that girl, I'm sorry she is the superior POV in this series. First of all she's very smart, always thinking and making connections. It's why we get this infodump from her right away, because Catelyn really can't think of being in the Godswood without comparing it to her childhood home. Second of all I love the way she is religious. Most religious characters in books and film are sort of boiled down to religious zealots or someone deeply conservative. For Catelyn it's simply part of her, a part that will never go away. She doesn't feel at home in the godswood of Winterfell because those aren't her gods, but she doesn't call them fake. They simply aren't hers. She's spiritual, it's why she see's the antler in the direwolf as a sign and takes it seriously ("dread coiled in her like a snake...") when Ned won't. I just think it gives her a unique perspective in this story, one that leads her to be almost genre aware.

"...but the red eyes of the weirwood seemed to follow her as she came."

oh no i hope we don't find out that someone is using the trees to watch people that would be so creepy /s

"'Beyond the Wall?' The thought made Catelyn shudder. Ned saw the dread on her face. 'Mance Rayder is nothing for us to fear.' 'There are darker things beyond the Wall.' She glanced behind her at the heart tree, the pale bark and red eyes, watching, listening, thinking it's long slow thoughts."

like this! there is no reason for Catelyn, a woman raised in Riverun, to fear beyond the wall more than Ned, who was born in the North. I know he spent a lot of his childhood in the Vale, but you can't tell me baby Ned wasn't told stories of what's out there. But it's Catelyn the eternally superstitious who believes them. And she's right! Always right, my poor Cassandra.

She's also so politically minded. Ned is nothing but excited to see and old friend. It doesn't even worry him that the King is making an unannounced visit. Catelyn though, she knows. Jon Arryn dead, Robert coming, the direwolf. It might aswell be in neon flashing lights to her!!

Alright, that's it for now. Daenerys I, Eddard I, and Jon I should be next, with a three a week pace is all goes according to plan. This took me way longer than I thought it was going to but it was so much fun, and as long as it continues to be fun I will continue to make them!

[greasydumbfuck]

It is I, CookieRun. And I come with a couple more questions because I'm invested

🧸 & 💋

thanks for answering!

no thank YOU for sending in the asks because im such a yapper!!!! and its a delight. even thought i dont really have like anything figured out and all my answers are just vibes

💋 — if you two were a romance trope, what would it be?

oooh thats difficult to say because i dont really know much about romance tropes........... the first that comes to mind is unrequited love but thats not entirely the right phrase. its just the closest i can get to what it is. its this dynamic of person A being unable to really give person B the kind of love and affection they deserve and feeling guilty about it while B is perfectly okay with the arrangement as long as theyre allowed to be by A's side and express their feelings.

on a lighter note id say the dynamic for metafrank is very much grumpy x sunshine on the surface. van creature is for sure annoying non-human and the annoyed

🧸— favourite gifts from each other?

meta's main way of showing affection is giving frank stuff, ranging from handfuls of chestnuts she found through entire mags she managed to swipe out of a criminal's hands all the way to bringing frank a takeout of something he mentioned liking. so frank would have a lot to choose from. but i think the favorite he doesnt admit to would be a drawing she made for him at some point...... which is like a thing meta considered the least "worthy" of her gifts to him (and the most embarassing). maybe it would be a portrait of him or maybe of maria (in which case theyd first end up arguing about it, only for frank to feel bad later). he has it crumpled up somewhere

on meta's end it would probably be a potted plant. she mentions how she cant keep one alive but still likes them a whole lot and a few weeks later frank leaves her a black pot with his signature symbol on it with a cactus growing. he painted the stupid pot himself and the skull is clearly uneven. the cactus survives probably only because of how much meta is attached to it, at some point it even blooms all pretty, to everyones surprise

[dayurno]

hii i just finished ur baby kevin fic and i love how you write!! like genuinely u described things so well and ur characterization was so on point as well as being sooo funny and sweet :) ur voice and love for kevin really came thru. thank u so much such a delightful fic im totally gonna binge read the rest of ur stuff <3

AHH THANK YOU!!!!! something that i really kept thinking to myself as i was rereading babykevin fic is that for a fic where (the adult) kevin is hardly present, it really feels like a love letter 2 kevin day in my head..... perhaps its because neil is fond of him and you can tell through his narration or something else altogether, but i think this fic is easily one of the most loving ive written about kevin.......... i couldnt show more of my hand if i tried.... im even a little embarrassed

“The evil creature that was making him so scared was actually…” Neil pauses for emphasis, “...a dog. It was a big one. We’re not sure how it got into the Foxhole Court in the first place, but this person, this simple person, who only had bad memories of getting bitten by a dog as a child, was unwilling to cross this dog’s path so he could go home.” [...] He swipes his thumb under Kevin’s eye; a soft motion. “We did. Of course we did. We teased him the entire way home about it, but that’s the point, isn’t it? We still went back for him. We still sent the dog away.”

IM REALLY not sure if its the idea of their dynamic mellowed down to what a child can understand but i think there has never been dialogue (written by me!) so loving about kevin day before... im not sure. i was overcome by my fondness of him when i wrote it i suppose

“His food is really terrible, though. Nothing like what Andrew makes you. You’d have to pretend to like it.” “Why eat it if it’s bad?” Kevin asks, looking more and more curious about his older self the longer Neil talks about him. Neil is not surprised to think that he could do this for much longer. The ache of missing Kevin subdues when it is shared aloud. “Well, because he goes through all the trouble of making it for you, so how could you dare not eat it?” He crouches down to be Kevin’s height, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “And sometimes, if you give him critique, he’ll go try to fix it right away. Last time I said it was a bit stale, and he added so much salt I had to cough out the rest.” Kevin hesitates. “Was it better?” “No. God, no, it was worse. Stale was a compliment; it was too salty.” “But… you ate it.” “I suppose I did,” Neil agrees. He really had — scraped his bowl clean, too. Choked it down like a man, much to Andrew’s chagrin. “He put in a lot of work. It’d be a waste if I didn’t eat it. And, well, whatever. I wanted him to be happy with himself.”

like :-) anyway sorry about this all its just that you saying this really made me want to talk about it..... i fear everyone is going to know im fond of kevin day now...

[dragonblobz]

I'm on my bullshit again. No lemons. Just Shinigami goodness. Wrote this to In Keeping Secrets of Silent Earth 3 by Coheed and Cambria.

Ryuk has been around for such a long time. Ever since she had found that notebook sitting on that tree stump years ago. Cover soft looking and beaded with dew. It had looked as if it had been there some time. And, although the pages looked weathered and yellow, there was no mold or outward damage.

Surprising given its location in the middle of the woods. She’d only even seen it because she’d stopped and knelt to retie her shoe. Just an alien black square looking sharp and unreal sitting on that stump just off the jogging trail.

She can remember how the thing had felt when she’d picked it up. Soft in texture. Like careworn leather.

The words “Death Note" emblazoned on the cover had made her feel a little unsettled. Eerie out here in the predawn misty quiet.

A silent voice inside her mind had whispered that maybe she should put it right back down on that stump and keep running. As far and as fast as she could.

Another voice, vapid and cunning, had laughed at the absurdity of such a book, with such a title, being left out here in the middle of nowhere.

She hadn’t left it there. Without opening it, she’d tucked it under her arm and continued on her morning run.

She performed all the menial tasks of her daily life, forgetting all about that Death Note leaving dew marks on her dining room table.

Breakfast was bland. Work was tedious. No different than any other day. Even when she’d reentered her home and plopped her work bag next to the thing, her eyes really didn’t focus on it.

It was the tall bony Shinigami standing in her kitchen that finally arrested her fuzzy mind from the blandness of living.

He hadn’t even been looking at her. Instead, the spinous processes of his vertebrae pressed onto the dark material upon his long back as he leaned over her counter. Observing a bowl of fruit as if it were a still life masterpiece.

She hadn’t moved. Was utterly frozen. Just watching this creature as it looked at her food.

“What’s all this junk? Taking up room that could be used for perfectly good apples.” It’s voice, low and yet raspy, grated on her eardrums as it lifted a hand and poked a claw into the ripe flesh of an orange. The movement causing several pieces of fruit to fall out of the over filled bowl entirely.

With a deft movement, the creature caught the only apple which had exited the bowl. Rubbed it with the pad of it’s thumb as it finally lifted it’s face to look at her.

It’s face………

Cadaverous. Eyes beady and large and yellow. Nose squashed. Like a mummy who’d decided to affix it’s hair for a punk rock concert. It was even sporting a dangling silver earring on one of it’s little ears.

At her gawping expression, it had smiled. Wide thin dark mouth sporting a row of razor teeth appearing aged and yellow.

“No screaming, eh? Hiya, Y/N.”

She hadn’t bothered to question how this thing knew her name.

“Um…….. hi?” Her own voice sounded dry and distant in her ears. “And you are?”

It bit into that apple, it’s eyes closing. As if savoring the fruit. A stray drop of the juice dribbled down onto it’s chin.

It said a word. But muffled thru a mouthful of apple, it nearly sounded like a retch.

“Ex….Excuse me? I didn’t…… I didn’t quite understand that.”

“Not a good listener tho. Ah well. Nobody is perfect.” It’s long tongue snaked out to swipe at that bead of juice as the creature had studied her.

Raising it’s free hand, it extended a long bony finger. She noticed now the rings glinting on his hands.

“I. Am. Ryuk.” He said it very slowly. As if she might have been a child who might not understand. But there wasn’t a trace of sarcasm or ill temper in it’s behavior.

“So….. Ryuk…… why…… um…. What……. What do you want?”

At this, it’s smile had widened.

“I’m just here Y/N. YOU are the one that picked up the Death Note.”

Imagery of that notebook popped up in her head.

“I….. I did……”

“Yes. You did. And I’ll be with you until you die now. Or I do.” It was leering now. “Whichever comes first.”

“I see….” She didn’t really see. Turned from him and went into the dining room to pick up that notebook. Opening it. Reading the first thing written on the inside of the cover out loud.

“The human whose name is written in this note shall die.”

It had been frightening in retrospect. Not those words. Not that Death Note. Not even the monster standing in the doorway happily crunching it’s way thru a second apple and watching her.

What had been utterly terrifying was that she had not blanched. Had not set this note down and backed away. Had not told that creature to take it and go.

Instead, she’d stood there. Continuing to read. A name and face already coming to mind.

A face belonging to a monster who’d put that apple eating shark mouthed monster to utter shame. The man who’d killed someone she had loved.

Without looking away from the Death Note, she’d reached over and started rummaging thru her work bag. Fingers shaking and fumbling at keys and change.

“Never can find what you’re looking for if your bag is too full, Y/N.” Ryuk looked vastly amused. “You’re not even going to question the validity of the Note? That’s what you humans usually do.”

She hadn’t answered. Simply gasped as her fingers had clutched onto a great fistful of bullshit in her bag. Lifting the whole mess out to drop carelessly on the table. Chapstick and a tampon scattering across the surface.

And there, rolling and coming to rest against an old broken key chain, had been a blue ink pen.

She’d looked up at Ryuk. Eyes wide, almost manic.

“Any person?”

He smiled again. Repeated her words.

“Any living person.”

There had been no eloquence. No artfulness nor ritualistic care taken in that first death. She had scratched the name onto the paper. And a way to die. Almost stabbing it in. Breathing coming out in ragged desperate gasping.

After the deed had been done, the pen clattered to the floor as she’d wept. Fingers numb.

It hadn’t occurred to her that there would be no way to instantly verify this death. Not until that moment. And so, with a frustrated cry, she’d slapped the Death Note onto the table and fled into her bedroom. Right over to the dark corner to collapse, wrap her arms around her knees, stuff her face into her knees, and cry as a child. Ryuk following her, tilting his head quizzically at this suffering.

“Why are you crying? You couldn’t have liked that human if you wanted them to die.”

“Please…… please go.”

But he didn’t. Simply had sank down. Knobby knees on either side of his ghastly face as he sat across from her.

“I told you. I’m here till you die, Y/N.” There was no camaraderie or sympathy in his voice. It had been matter of fact. “But this surely will get boring very soon, won’t it?”

“When will I know if he died?”

Ryuk smiled again. Leering.

“My my. Impatient aren’t you. Actually that’s a quality I like about you humans. As for your question, I guess you’ll just have to find out for yourself.” His eyes glint as his smile turns wicked. “You could always write a name belonging to someone closer. If you’re seeking validation, of course.”

“There isn’t anyone else I wanna kill.”

“Then this is going to get very boring very quickly, Y/N.”

She hadn’t had to wait long. Two days later, she’d received correspondence that her presence would no longer be required at a hearing. The defendant was dead.

A quick Google search verified that the person had died just as she’d written.

Setting the phone down, fingers numb, she'd simply looked up at her Shinigami.

She knew that’s what he was now. She’d been peppering him with questions about himself and his kind. And about the Death Note. He hadn’t answered many of them. At least, not until she’d given him an angelic grin and revealed a bag of bright green apples.

“Your apples can be green???” He'd looked absolutely delighted. And had been far more forthcoming.

“He’s dead. He’s really……. Gone…….”

Ryuk merely grunted in visceral enjoyment as he popped the core of that Granny Smith into his maw.

Without warning, she’d reached forward, patting at another errant drop of juice on his chin with a Kleenex she’d just snatched from the box. The action was mainly impulsive. And she’d laughed.

“You’re so messy.”

The Shinigami had frozen. Utterly motionless. He didn’t breathe himself. Statue still. Simply looking at her.

The years passed by like this. The shock and relief provided by this first killing soon giving way to an almost comfortable routine. She didn’t go on a wholesale slaughter. And often targeted those who hurt children. The pain of such cases resonating with the events of her own life.

And there were so. Many. Apples. Loads of them. Ryuk loved all kinds. Although he did seem preferential to Honey Crisp. She never once could get him to try another fruit. And she DID try. Not even a damn orange.

“It’s yummy. Ya know, for somebody that says he gets bored easily, you sure are picky.” She waggled the bright fruit.

“I’ve watched you peel one of those things. What sort of food makes you work so hard? Now THIS……” He'd held up his half eaten apple. “THIS is the pinnacle of crisp and juicy. Now leave that orange wherever you found it, if you please.”

Time was littered with conversations as simple as these, intermingled with serious discussions in which he was as non informative as ever.

It was one of these more serious conversations which followed an observation on her part.

She’d noticed changes in him. Very slight. But she was simply around him so much that she could see them. His movements had become slower. More careful. His speech slowed as well. As if he might be thinking more carefully. Or even forgetting things. She never once pointed this out.

Not until, one day, after clearing 6 entire apples, he’d actually groaned as he’d flopped upon her couch. Long booted feet hanging over one of the arms.

She plops next to him. Poking at one of the skulls on his belt. He’d long since stopped being surprised by her impulsive touches and nearness. Her humanness. Simply tolerating it.

“Are you hurting, Ryuk?”

“Why are you asking?”

“Oh. No reason.”

“I’m dying, Y/N.”

For once, it is she who freezes.

“I thought Shinigami lived a long time.”

“We do. My time is simply running out.” He’s just watching her.

“You’d said….. you’d said that you guys get more years by taking ours.”

“We do.”

She stops toying with that skull entirely. Turns her body so that she’s facing him directly.

“Is it time, then?” She’s oddly unafraid.

“Time for what?”

“For you to….. ya know…… write my name in YOUR Death Note?”

At this, he chuckles.

“I’m not going to write your name.”

She looks confused.

“But….. why not?”

Now he’s actually laughing.

“Do you WANT me to write your name in my Death Note?”

She chews on her bottom lip. Reaching out to pat his chest. Once again, he doesn’t react.

“I don’t want you to die.”

He laughs again. But there is no more true mirth in the sound.

“Why?”

She counters.

“Why won’t you write my name?”

“I am not entirely sure, Y/N.” The slight confusion in his voice gives credence to this answer.

“Well. I am sure.” She’s staring intently at him. “Everything ends, Ryuk. Nobody ever stays. Nothing is constant. I’ve never had a single person ever remain in my life. Except….. except you.”

He sighs. Patiently repeating himself.

“I will be with you until you die.”

“I don’t care if it’s because you have to be here. You’re still HERE……. Will it be soon?”

That same, toothy leer.

“You know I won’t tell you your lifespan, Y/N.”

“I don’t mean me.”

He just looks at her. She’s never seen his face so expressionless. Then repeats yet again.

“I will be with you until you die. Or until I do.”

“I will write my own name then. Will that do it?”

“Stop being foolish. Be a dear and get me another apple won’t you?”

“Yeah….. I will. But I’m not done.”

“I’m sure you’re not.” He chuckles.

It is as if this conversation opens a chasm in this inevitable process. Everything about Ryuk is changing. And so quickly.

Already emaciated and pale, even his dark lips turn papery and light grey. His hair grays too. Yellow eyes growing filmy where they had been so keen before. As if, when the aging process actually begins in a Shinigami, it is accelerated.

It is barely 2 weeks after this conversation that he gives a defeated grunt, sprawled on her bed as she’s on her laptop.

“I can’t get up.” He barks out a laugh. As if this is genuinely funny to him.

She closes her laptop and rises from her chair. Turning and walking over to the bed to flop next to him. Staring at the ceiling just as he is.

“You want another apple?”

“Thank you, Y/N. But I do not.”

“That close, huh.”

“I believe so, yes.”

“Will the Death Note still work? When you’re gone I mean.”

“Yes.”

Her voice is oddly cold.

“Do death gods go to hell? I cant go to heaven or hell. What about you?”

He doesn’t answer for several minutes. She doesn’t speak either. Finally…

“I suppose we will end up in the same place, Y/N.”

“I'm glad.” She turns her face to look at him. “I’ll need something before you go.”

“Oh? And what is that?”

“The Shinigami eyes.”

At this, Ryuk turns his face as well. And they just stare at each other.

“Clever greedy impatient girl.” The insult is almost affectionate. “Are you truly that afraid to die alone?”

“Nobody should die alone. And this way, neither of us will half to. Half my lifespan for the Shinigami eyes. We’ll die at the same time.” She looks back up at the ceiling. He does too.

When he feels her fingers intertwining with his, as always, he doesn’t react.

“I never actually made that offer to you. Merely spoke of it.”

“I don’t care. I want the Shinigami eyes.”

He turns his face to her.

“Who am I to turn down such a lucrative deal?”

She sees his hand coming towards her face. Closes her eyes.

When she opens them again, the picture of her and some old friends on the wall is noticeably different. One face, the face of the friend who’d committed suicide years before, is clear and unblemished. The other faces each have a name and numbers above them.

And when she looks back at Ryuk, she sees that his hair is once again jet black. Eyes just as clear and sharp as she remembers. He leers at her. Squeezes her hand as she’s squeezing his.

“I’ll take that apple as well. If the offer is still there.”

She grins.

“You got a new lease on life and you STILL won’t try an orange?”

He scoffs.

[lady-literature]

hi hi hi i'm new here but i just got through your entire (at least i think so) accidental crime boss mari au and i love it so much!!! also my imagination went wild and here's what it came up with (this is so long, i'm so sorry 😂)

so, Jason teaching the kids street stuff, like pickpocketing and such, nobody can Ever pickpocket Mari (not that they'd try, i think, hahaha), somehow it's just not possible. you think you have her and then find out otherwise. furthermore! she'd probably actually know how to do A Lot of what Jason is teaching (look, saving Paris that many times and seeing the shit she's seen must have taught her something about street smarts, okay?), but whether she's aware of all of it or not remains... unanswered. she absolutely surprises everyone, jaws-on-the-floor style, the first time she does it, especially when she does it consciously. every time she does something unknowingly (and still in the Nicest Way Possible, how even--) Jason probably quietly gathers the kids around so that they can watch and learn in real time from an example. and also, even though she's The Responsible One between the two of them when it comes to this stuff, sometimes Mari helps the kids do something, like maybe pickpocket someone in the family, as a prank

now about the Rules!! more specifically the sword fighting and duelling etiquette rule: auntie Kagami teaches everyone who wants to learn fencing every time she visits. there are tournaments. there's probably a pocket dimension designed specifically for that. it doesn't help lessen the amount of Shenanigans happening all the time but boy does it get competitive

also also also i love the name Mother of Heroes!!!! it's so cool!!! The Brood too!!!

if you've got any, i would love to see some more headcanons with the Sirens or the other dark/darker characters of the city (i'm not that well-versed in the DC universe, so idk what to call them if they have a name, sorry)

also, we already know she's called the Pixie and that she's kinda considered a mob boss and etc., but like, what about the point of view of an outsider? the way it all came to be really must sound like something from legends or fairytales out there on the streets. something so sudden and kind, and if you look a bit closer magical and just so unexplainably other???? kids just disappearing off the streets in that area and then resurfacing again looking well fed and taken care of???? to those disillusioned enough with life it must literally sound like an urban legend or something. but she's real. if you need help you just gotta find her.

HI HI HI!!! oh my gosh all of it??? thank you so much!!

1) i think that Mari knows theoretically a lot of things about being on the streets, but not a lot practically. living on the streets has less to do with being able to fight and a lot more to do with instincts and experience and all these little tics you pick up when all you have to count on is yourself.

there are, of course, certain ‘street talents’ as i call them, like being able to pick locks and con people and having a sense for danger etc, etc.

mari knows that tangible things, because she’s bound to pick them up, obviously. the kids just don’t forget what they’ve learned, so often she sees it in action. Jason also teaches her street talents as well, sometimes on purpose, most times on accident.

there is a difference though, in how Mari uses said talents. when the kids use them, there is an edge to every movement. they use their talents like weapons, like they are shields, all bared teeth and fingers like claws. their talents come from pain and necessity and there will always be something a bit vicious about it.

Mari doesn’t have that, and never will. her talents are tools and tools only, one more to add to her vast repertoire. it’s as impersonal as it gets for her, which means its soft and sweet and used with care. her talents, even in combat or duels, are velvet over steel.

2) Oba Kagami, unfortunately, can’t visit often but when she does, oh boy is it intense. Mari and Chloe are always delighted when she and Adrien visit, but mari spends most of the trip running around and quelling fights and making sure no one loses a finger

3) thank you! i’d like to say id been planning the Mother of Heroes for a while but i came up with it mostly on the spot lol. it fits really well though and makes a lot of sense imo

i quite like it

4) hmmm. im not sure about much of that. despite being thought of as a crime boss, she stays away from the other rogues mostly. I think, if given the chance, Mari would likely adopt killer croc without question, and I think she’s on okay terms with Riddler in that they like to exchange brain teasers and the like, but other than the Sirens, mari stays away from crime.

for the sirens though, i very much like the idea that Harley basically thinks of Mari as a younger sister and is liable to just take her out on the town and leave Selina and Ivy to watch the kids while they go cause trouble for whatever group has caught Harley/Mari’s ire this time.

Ivy and Mari have a comradery in their shared love of plants and similarity in their powers. mari is more expansive and flexible than Ivy’s, but they share the same roots and the two spend lots of time gardening and keeping crops for the kids. (though, harvesting is often a chore for the older ones)

5) Mari being an urban legend is the truest thing I have heard. god, i’ve never really considered the outsiders perspective but yeah. could you imagine the stories people would whisper about the faerie living near crime alley? in the beginning, just after things start picking up and Mari has somewhere upwards of a dozen kids, I think it’d look something like this:

“People say there’s faeries living near crime alley. Magic folk settling back into the city that tried to drive them out. No one knows what they want, but they keep taking kids. The strange ones, the ones that are like them, that aren’t quite human.

“They say that they’ll help you, if only you ask. But be careful. There hasn’t been a kid to go in there and not come out different. They’re stronger, normally. And well-fed. But they also talk of strange creatures and stories no one’s ever heard of and you stop seeing them on the streets so much. (They say they live with the faeries now.)

“No one knows what the faeries want, but we know this: they help when you ask and they keep taking kids. I suppose, in the grand scheme, it depends on how much your willing to risk for some help.”

[viviae]

can you like. tell me a little about dragon age. seeing your posts about it has got me interested in playing but i have little to no clue what it actually is

Boy can I explain nonny <3 This is a bit long so strap in and im sorry

Dragon Age is (currently) a three game series composed of Dragon Age: Origins (PS3, Xbox 360/Xbox One, PC), Dragon Age: II (PS3, Xbox 360/Xbox One, PC), and Dragon Age: Inquisition (PS4, Xbox One, PC) and its really unique because of its selling point that your actions impact the games as you progress. Like if you kill one character in one game they’ll stay dead through the rest of the series which makes you feel lived in the story and that your actions matter. Dragon Age is also an RPG so a roleplaying game kind of along the same lines of DnD where you get to make and play your own character. And yes there are romances and you can be gay.

The First Game of the series is Dragon Age: Origins where you choose from a selection of six unique (technically seven) origins or backgrounds for your character. You can be anywhere from a human noble or a Dalish elf, the unique elven culture in Dragon Age of nomadic clans dedicating to reclaiming their past. But eventually, from the events in your origin, you wind up a member of a secretive and elite order known as the Grey Wardens whose duty is to protect the world from the Blight.

The Blight is this spread of a horrible disease known as the Taint but is characterized by the presence of Darkspawn, a kind of zombie like creature who exists only to destroy the world. Grey Wardens take the heavy duty of protecting the world from the Blight, which have nearly wiped all of humanity multiple times, at all costs. And currently the country of Ferelden is under going a blight and due to events you wind up the only Grey Warden with your companion Alistair to save the world and reunite Ferelden which had fallen under a civil war.

Along Origins you meet many interesting characters. Alistair is your friendly co-warden who has a mysterious parentage that he hides under his happy go lucky attitude. In contrast to Alistair is the witch Morrigan who is your favorite goth swamp queen who would insult you and you thank her. In addition you meet your chaotic bi rogues Zevran and Leliana. Leliana is a nun who is on the run and hiding from a dark past and she is suspiciously good at murder. And Zevran is not at all hiding his aptitude for murder as an Assassin for hire who tried and failed to kill you but who can ignore that charming bastard?

Dragon Age II follows a much smaller story of a Ferelden refuge who had escaped from the Blight to the city of Kirkwall named Hawke. Unlike in origins where you get to pick your background 2 limits you to Hawke but fear not, Hawke is a loveable bastard and you can still customize them. Throughout DA2 you get to experience all the delights Kirkwall has to offer: Demons, crime, corrupt cops, and fighting your way to survive in this city and make a name for yourself.

Where Origins sets the stage for the world DA2 you are the actor in that play - literally the game is divided into 3 acts that take place over a span of 7 years. DA2′s main conflict is the argument of Mages vs Templars, as in DA’s lore while there are those who are born with magic they are forced to live in prisons policed by the Templar order and the church. You explore the more political arguments of; are the Templars right in their fears of magic as Kirkwall is filled to the brim with corrupt mages or do Mages deserve the chance to live and prove themselves freely from their prisons.

Your romancable companions in DA2 are all bisexuals as the true theme of DA2 is: be gay do crime. You have the foils of Anders: the runaway mage who fled from the prisons the mages are housed in and is determined to bring mages to freedom, and Fenris: the runaway escaped slave who curses magic for only inflicting pain and suffering in his life and wants his warnings to be heard about the dangers magic bring. In addition you also have Merrill, your cute but terrifying Dalish mage who would probably murder you with a cute smile and then go oops. And of course, my pirate wife Isabela, who lives a life free from commitment and is dedicated to the idea everyone should have a good time no matter the cost. Also while not romancable Hawke’s bff Varric deserves every ounce of praise he gets as never before has the energy of “two idiots sharing a braincell” ever been so well adapted.

Then finally we reach Inquisition. After the events of DA2 it triggers a full on war between the Mages and Templars that is destroying the land and causing severe damage that neither side can handle anymore. Desperate for an end to the conflict the Divine (err... fantasy pope) calls for a meeting on both sides... only for the entire thing to literally explode. Killing everyone present and causing a hole in the sky which now means demons are raining like cats and dogs you are the only one to survive. In Inquisition you can once again return to pick between unique backgrounds like in Origins but you don’t get to play through those backgrounds sadly.

You now possess something on your left hand which gives you the ability to patch up the hole in the sky that is pissing demons and due to being the only survivor everyone is incredibly confused about you. Eventually the Inquisition is formed around you, the character they are calling the Herald of Andraste (Andraste is fantasy Jesus) due to your ability to seal the holes. The mystery unfolds as over the course of the game you learn what caused the explosion, how you are connected, and what exactly the mark on your hand is.

DAI has the largest numbers of romance options so I’m gonna give a quick bullet point list for them all

Iron Bull (Pansexual, All Races): A Qunari (think Tiefling but big and beefy) mercenary who is far more clever than he lets on, as well as being the rope top dom of your dreams. Literally! Bull’s romance is a really healthy bdsm relationship if you are interested its very well done

Josephine (Bisexual, All Races): Your loveable ambassador and advisor for the inquisition. She is a workaholic noble who is a tried and true classic romance. Sweep her off her feet and duel for her hand all while navigating the nobility

Dorian (Gay, All Races): The flamboyant pariah rock star mage, he demands attention whenever he walks into the room. Although he wants to be all talk and no emotions make no mistake he is making puppy eyes at you the entire time and gets deeply offended if you say he is. Also not going to lie Dorian is the best piece of gay male rep in gaming history.

Cassandra (Male-only, all Races): Your stern warrior wife who is all serious no funny business... expect she is a bleeding heart romantic who reads horrible smut for fun. You wish to COURT HER?? I mean... if you want 👉👈 she won’t say no...

Blackwall (Female-only, All Races): Your weird dilf who wants desperately to prove himself every step of the way and help people. He is a constable for the Grey Wardens, but all the details on him seem murky... Ah well I’m sure its nothing, the Grey Wardens are a secretive order after all.

Sera (Lesbian, All Races): My wild child, monster chugging, beer guzzling, arrow shooting lesbian. Sera is here for a fun time and not a serious one, she’ll always make sure to keep you humble and ensure you aren’t getting to big for your breeches. 

Cullen (Female-Only, Human and Elf only): Cullen’s the Inquisition’s commander who oohh boy is steeped in a lot of trauma. Cullen’s actually a character you get to know through out the series and see just all the horrible nonsense he’s been through. But he is your tragic self loathing... he isn’t princely but he is your adorkable charming

Solas (Female-Only, Elf Only): The humble apostate who joins the Inquisition out of curiosity of the breech, he is an expert on what the hell is going on with that hole in the sky. However, he holds a wisdom that goes far deeper than your typical apostate. Smooth talking and refined he carries a heavy cloud over him.

I left out a lot and all the nonsense with books and what have you but this is the easiest overview of the series I can offer. It’s main selling points is the deep story and characters throughout the games. And of course who doesn’t love the ability to make and roleplay your own character as a bonus? The games are bit of a flawed gem and Origins in my ugly child but they are truly a delight if you are interested

[demonprosecutor]

SOMETHING MORE LIGHTHEARTED THIS TIME

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10  | part 11

“don’t tell me that you’re scared of myroclus.” the words leave your mouth amused, patting the flank of the enormous draft horse, watching as zagreus stared back at myroclus warily. like he was going to bite his head off or something. the cottage doesn’t exactly have a stable, nor is myroclus an entirely domesticated horse, but he’s a good companion and fairly compliant with you.

zagreus shook his head, a little bit peeved at the thought of being scared of a horse - after all, he was the one who faced the hordes of the underworld, dying so many times that hypnos had to dedicate a list solely for himself. “i’m not scared. just -- wary, ok? does he have special powers? what’s his parentage? and do i have to expect fire-breathing in the near future.”

the questions make you laugh, myroclus nickering and shaking his head before dipping it to sneak a few nibbles of grass below. tsk, tsk, what a hungry thing! “no powers, just a normal horse. he’s a draft horse. i use him for plowing and riding in the woods yonder, the wolves fear him.” you move forward, scratching myroclus’s neck, fond at the way he nestled his head on your shoulder. 

dark eyes peer at zagreus, almost conveying the words of: my human. zagreus raises his hands in surrender, no, he wasn’t going to steal your human. it was clear that winter was already nearing, and the journey towards the nearest town was going to be fairly treacherous, but there were some needed supplies and you couldn’t wait till after lady demeter’s anger abetted.

but still - you didn’t want your two best boys (don’t tell zagreus that you already considered him a best boy, his ego did not need any more stroking) to argue on the journey there. with quick hands, you produce an apple, voice pitching into something baby-ish, “you are a good boy, right, myroclus? you’re going to behave for me?” 

myroclus takes the apple from your hands, snuffling along your palm with a pleased snort. “ok, come here. he got his treat and he knows to be a good boy, right, sweet one?” myroclus shudders in delight, eyes going slightly lidded and hooves stamping the ground. 

“are you sure?”

you roll your eyes and turn around, reaching out to curl your hand around the prince’s, tugging him closer. “yes. i am sure. would i ever lead you astray?”

“no, but...” you shush him and press his hand on the side of myroclus’s flank, guiding him to stroke the horse firmly. “wait, i dont want to hurt him...”

“he’s made of pure muscle, he likes it firm, zag.” you concentrate on helping the prince pet myroclus to his liking, not noticing the apollo-bright smile that he levelled at you. when you do notice, you pause, narrowing your eyes suspiciously. “what.”

“you called me zag.” he points out, fingers curling to scratch myroclus’ favourite spot. “instead of zagreus.”

fluster rises like an inferno, ready to swallow you whole. “mm.” you pull your hand back, averting your gaze to the carefully-folded blue cloth that you meant to drape over the horse’s back in preparation of the journey.

zagreus grabs your arm, careful, gentle. like he always was, like he feared he could shatter you to pieces with one wrong move. (he wasn’t wrong exactly, but this sort of gentleness scared you because where else would ever experience that and prince zagreus’ destiny was beyond you and the simple cottage). “hey, i wasn’t making fun of you. i always told you, you didn’t have to be so formal with me. we’re friends. philia is what we are.”

philia, a friendly sort of love, an affection between friends, one of the four words love.

you tilt your head, heart molded like clay, warmed by the heat of his caring hands. and it is peace that makes its way in the hallowed atriums of your chest. home, you think. this was meant to be, in some strange, Fate-spun way. “philia.” you parrot, wrapping a hand around the one zagreus had curled around your arm.

it’s a strange moment, one that’s shattered with the way zagreus suddenly pulls back; flexing his hand slightly. “so, you were teaching me to ride this beast?”

myroclus whinnies in indignation, he was not a mere beast, he was the grandest of horses! you laugh again, unfolding the blue blanket that allowed you to the barest hint of relief from the bumpiness that riding horses could serve. “perhaps, but most of all, i will teach you to hold on. it would do you well to go and explore outside of my lady’s lands.” pause, thoughtful look. “if that is your wish, anyways.”

“i find no issue with that, i have been feeling a bit cooped up. and i have never ridden a horse before, how hard could it be?” zagreus watches as you tie the blanket to myroclus’ back before seeing the unimpressed look on your face. “what?”

“riding a horse is no easy feat, i’ll have you know.”

he could tell that he’s offended you, smiling sheepishly as if to say sorry! nonetheless, you turn towards myroclus, rolling up your chiton to revealed toned legs and thighs from years of hard work. sticking your tongue out, you take a few steps back before rushing forward and vaulting yourself onto myroclus’ back. zagreus claps wildly, whistling in appreciation at the show of athleticism, the only show of athleticism that you are willing to display.

you are simply content to walk through life instead of rushing. 

“me next!” zagreus mirrors you, tensing his legs to leap...

“stop! no! you don’t know how to do it yet and myroclus isn’t prepared, what we are going to do is this.” you pat the horse’s neck, whispering a quiet: down boy, and myroclus settles on the ground. “now, up.” you pat behind your form, waiting patiently for zagreus to sit behind you, but he doesn’t.

oh. he looks... petulant. like a child. “i’m not a child, you know. i can do what you did. it’s easy!” he crosses his arms, but obligingly sits on the spot you had indicated. “This isn’t too bad.”

His arms wrap around your waist loosely, a smile dimpling at your cheeks. “not yet, and tighter.” you tug him until his arms tighten, his body a spot of heat at your back. prince zagreus is tall enough that he could comfortably place his chin on your head. “ready?” a whistle has your horse standing up once again, the reins tight around your fists. “just hold on.”

you snap the reins and off myroclus goes, the earth rumbling underneath his thunderous hooves. he was a bulky creature, as strong as an oak tree and not as fast as his other kin, but a dependable steed. you can hear zagreus grunting behind you, knees pressed tight to avoid being knocked off, voice jumping in amusing leaps at every bound of the horse. “how do you fare?” you call above the winds, cheeks bitten red by the fall air, delight in your gaze. 

“iiiiii---- thiiiiiink---- im gonnaaaaaaahahhhhhhh----” his words come strangely and at a particular bump, one that has zagreus slipping and attempting to cling to you, thus setting off a chain reaction of him falling and you falling onto the rocky ground beneath.

luckily because of godlike reflexes, he maneuvers himself in a way that cushions your fall with his bulk, rollin in the mud before stopping. chiton messed, hair messed, face splattered with brown, you sit up, glaring at him crossly. distantly, you can see myroclus skidding to a halt and swinging his mighty head, returning in leisurely trots, taking a detour to a nearby field of sweetgrass. zagreus shrugs sheepishly at you, “you did say to hold on...”

“yes, but not yank me off the horse as well!” you try to wipe off the mud from your face, succeeding in smearing it even further. “ugh, it’s not getting off.” at least there’s one white spot left on your chiton. however, a splat against your chest has it disappearing --- you look up at zagreus who sports a shit-eating grin, the flames that licked his laurel wreathe dancing in delight. “you. did. not.”

he sticks his nose in the air, mouth curled in a manner that reminded you too much of lord hermes, “i did, and what are you going to do about it?”

if he insists on playing dirty, then you shall oblige him in turn. in his moment of gloating and taunting, you craft a mud ball and toss it right at his face, laughing at the way he sputters, features messed even further with dirt and clods of grass. zagreus appears to not have anticipated your retaliation and that makes it that much more sweeter.

your countenance may be reserved; however, that is by choice - underneath the mask, you had the capacity of being equally playful. you roll away from the god, scooping up handful of mud and temporarily overwhelming poor zagreus who attempts to escape the indent he made in the mud with a wet schlop! 

however, whatever your advantage you had was swiftly lost. his dual-coloured eyes flash with excitement, teeth bared in a grin that foretold trouble. with his forearms up, he blocked every mudball you threw, whilst stepping closer and closer. you try to outmaneuver him, but as fleet-footed as you were, zagreus was even more superior (you suspected that he had been blessed by lord hermes, hardly fair!).

“---- got you!” the prince tackles you to the ground, carefully cushioning your head with a hand and pinned you in the mud - braced over you with a forearm next to your head and knees next to your thighs. by then, you’re both heaving from your play-fighting and nearly unidentifiable from the amount of mud caked on your forms.

the laughter from being bowled over and trapped trails off, your gazes captured in magnetic timelessness. you’ve noticed that you’ve been having these strange moments often, an electric quality that you cannot seem to place. it was terrifying, it was exhilarating. prince zagreus watches you, lips parted, quiet. 

this moment - standing on the precipice of something different. you falter, pressing a hand on zagreus’ chest, laughing albeit awkwardly. “zagreus, m-myroclus. i have to get him. and we... we should get clean.” the words stuff your mouth as the moment is ruined, zagreus blinking in realization. he rocks back on his heels, smiling, but something in his gaze is different.

was it regret? was it disappointment?

he shouldn’t be, what this was -- it was an illusion. simply the games of lady aphrodite and nothing more. when he stands, he offers you a hand, which you take gratefully. “go back home and clean up, i need to get myroclus back.” it seemed like he wanted to protest; however, he doesn’t - midnight-hair matted with mud. zagreus doesn’t answer you, contenting with a nod and returning to the cottage.

you whistle loudly, myroclus’ ears pricking at the sound and trotting over to bump his snout against your cheek gently. “tsk, you were a bad boy, did you do that on purpose?” myroclus nickers, neither an affirmative or a negative. it must of been one of his bouts of mischief. “nonetheless, tomorrow, we’re going to practice more, please be good and i’ll bring you treats.” the prospects of treats, it seemed, was enough for the horse to internally pledge to behave.

after returning myroclus to his fenced field, you turn your feet back to the cottage and to the bathhouse where steaming rose water and oils awaited you. luxury has never been appealing to you, but the capacity to soak in a bath for an extended period of time was wonderful. you knocked on the door and upon finding no reply, entered the bathhouse, shedding your already-awkwardly dried clothes and sinking into the tub of hot water (zagreus had, no doubt, already refilled upon anticipation of your return).

you do not know how long you sat there and cleaned, allowing the day to sluice off your shoulders, but when you finish, your skin is pruny and countenance soften with the delight of someone well-soaked. a robe hung nearby, soft fabric that warded off the cold, cinched at the waist with rope. 

thankfully, when you return to the kitchen where you know zagreus was stoking the fire for the stew they had made, nothing was on fire. his hair was endearingly fluffed up, swaddled in a similar robe. “nice bath? you took long.” he offers you a bowl of stew, which you take gratefully.

“i’m a bit sore from the fall, it was nice to have the warmth soak into my skin.” you pull up a chair, stretching luxuriously enough that your joints pop. “you know, i’ve been curious.” zagreus spoons food into his mouth, humming in acknowledgement (he’s learned to not talk with his mouth full, something you’ve scolded him about frequently). “when lord thanatos was here, he talked about your purpose... i’m sorry, am i not supposed to...” you trail off at the look he gives you. it’s not menacing or angry, but filled with a brand of determination.

ah, you forget. the vengeful, cataclysmic drive to see his birthmother, you wonder - would you go to such depths? would you descent to the pits of tartarus to see your family, so cruelly stolen from you?

“no, it’s... it’s fine.” he wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, “i came here to protect my mother. from the rest of the olympians.” that gets your attention, straightening in your seat.

“my lady is in danger?” the panic in your chest tightens, mind already racing with contingency plans. how, just how, are you supposed to protect the goddess?

he can see the fear in your eyes, reaching out to hold your hand tightly. “no harm will fall upon her. or you. i am here.”

but you know the disastrous uselessness of fighting against forces of nature themselves. after all, it was lord ares whom blessed the army, the general, that ravaged her home. “don’t. there are... there are certain things that you cannot fight against, believe me, i know.” your words are harsh, zagreus taken aback by the rawness of your self baring. you squeeze your eyes shut, dismissing your memories and traumas. easy, after all. pandora’s box, locked tight. “regardless, lord thanatos spoke about something about things not dying, doesn’t that scare you?”

zagreus considers that, tilting his head before shaking it. “not really. it’ll sort itself out soon. now, let’s stop talking about this nasty business. eat your dinner.”

you feel scolded, dismissed, really. but that’s nothing new. zagreus was a god, you remind yourself. he did not feel mortality in the way that you did. bah, nonetheless, you and this cottage is an insignificant blip in the grand scheme of things.

after all, being faceless was the greatest gift of all in this life.

[haro-whumps]

Box Boy Meeting Yanni

(CW: slavery, dehumanization, creepy + intimate whumper, implied noncon, possessive behaviors)

I STRONGLY discourage readers with any kind of paranoia from reading this chapter.

Tag list <3:  @thatsthewhump @whump-it @ashintheairlikesnow @fairybean101 @finder-of-rings @comfortforthepain @shameless-whumper @that-one-thespian @burtlederp @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @raigash @im-not-rare-im-rarr @spiffythespook

Masterlist

Much as they would have loved to quit their job and just lounge around with Soren for the rest of their life, Ren did in fact have to go back to work eventually. So they showed up in a white button down and a pencil skirt with red lipstick and their hair tied in a high ponytail, tips of their hair just tickling at the nape of their neck, and resigned themself to staring at Soren through the cameras all day.

“REN!” Yanni shouted, banging open the door of their office and draping herself dramatically in the doorframe. “My favorite gossipbuddy in the ENTIRE office and you left me alone for a WEEK!” she accused, storming over to their desk and nearly flailing a hand into one of their potted plants. 

They liked gardening. Liked knowing that there were living creatures that, without Ren, would die.

“A week and a day,” Ren corrected with a playful smile. “It’s Tuesday.”

“Cruel and heartless, Ren, cruel and heartless,” she said, plopping herself on their desk. They laughed good-naturedly, leaning an arm over the back of their chair and smiling up at her. “Did you go on another cruise with your mama?” she asked less theatrically.

“No, actually. I was busy with something new.” They gave a wicked grin, which prompted her to lean in, ready for whatever they were about to share. They’d conditioned the response, personally. “I got myself a Box Boy.”

Yanni gasped, lighting up. “No! Show me pictures, show me pictures! Is he cute?”

“He’s so cute,” Ren said, pulling out their phone and bringing up a picture of their precious angel. “His name is Soren, he’s the same age as me, and his hair is this gorgeous texture.”

“Oh my god!” she squealed, “Look at hiiiiiiim, oh my gooooood!” She fanned at her face excitedly, and Ren swiped through a couple more pictures with their thumb. “Ren he’s adorable!!!”

“And he’s sweet as a peach, too,” Ren bragged, smiling down at Soren’s blushing face. “My personal little angel.”

“Ugh, now you’re making me want one! I swear, ever since Box Babes came out with their spring lineup, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. Did you see that lineup? The one with that gorgeous big-titty one in the purple?”

“Was it the same line that had the one with curly brown hair and pretty green eyes?” Ren asked. Yanni tilted her head, her curly brown hair bouncing in its ponytail and her pretty green eyes looking off to the side in thought.

“Not sure! It’s not an uncommon complexion, though,” Yanni said with a careless shrug, and Ren hummed, a private smile on their face, eyes on hers. She smiled back. “But seriously, that one Babe was soooooo pretty, and I’ve been needing an outlet.”

‘You really do,” Ren agreed.

“I can’t help it that the gods made me horny. And like, none of the women in this office are bangable, you know? They’re all, ugh, smart.”

“Working with folk of our caliber, I’d hope they would be,” Ren said easily, mostly entertained by Yanni’s over the top theatrics. They felt warmly towards her. Not that she’d ever be in any danger of it, but if--in some other life--she were made into a Box Babe herself, Ren would’ve just as happily bought her.

It would still have meant that they wouldn’t have a pet they could really yank around, but at least neither would ever need to feel jealous of the other.

“Well, obviously,” Yanni said with a flip of her hair. “But it does shrink my dating pool to zilch. I mean, seriously, what’s a gal gotta do to get herself a bimbo these days?!”

Ren pretended to hum thoughtfully, and shrugged with an airy “Buy one.”

They shared a laugh, and Yanni leaned in to kiss their cheek. “You’re so fun, I missed you. You should invite me over to meet your new little plaything!”

“Maybe,” Ren said, “We’ll see how I feel at the end of the day.”

Yanni stuck her tongue out at them. “You just wanna hole up with that cute little bean and keep him all to yourself.”

Ren shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. Guess you’ll never know.”

“Well, text me whenever you decide. Oh! But, I did get sent in here for a reason. Like, a reason-reason, not just to bitch you out for stranding me here!”

“Oh?” Ren asked unapologetically.

“Coffee machine broke yesterday. Help us Ren-bi Wan Kenobi! You’re our only hope!”

Huh. They hadn’t even sabotaged it that time. It meant the thing was actually malfunctioning, but they weren’t particularly concerned, as they stood and left their office. By this point, they knew the insides of the thing better than the manufacturers did. 

A couple of their office-mates were gathered in the break room, one of them contemplating buying iced coffee from the company fridge, a couple chatting with empty hands, another very sullenly nursing a cup of water. Aimie looked up from said water cup and caught sight of Ren, and her face immediately lit up.

“Ren! Thank god; the damn thing’s been broken all week!”

“It’s only Tuesday,” Ren said with a laugh, basking in the turning attention of the break room, each and every one of them delighted to see Ren. 

“It’s already Tuesday,” Yanni corrected, hopping up on the counter next to the coffee machine as Ren pulled open the panel. “You’ve come to us in our darkest hour!” she said with a dramatically raised fist.

Ren poked around, checking the usual spots they sabotaged it in. One of the wires they used most frequently had jiggled loose all on its own. They must have used that wire too much, and now it was worn down from the constant in and out. But, that just meant they didn’t have to sneak in here and break the thing as often anymore, and would be able to walk in with other people and be lauded for their competence without needing to time things perfectly when the room was empty. If they could just get access to the security cameras legally, this would all be so much simpler.

“And booting back on,” Ren announced calmly, the room watching with baited breath, and they all let out a playful (but only so playful) cheer when the thing beeped to life.

“Our hero!” Yanni shouted, flinging her arms around their neck and kissing their cheek. They laughed, hugging her back, and offered her the first paper cup off the stack, as a monarch bestowing riches to a favored knight. They placed their hand on the nape of her neck while she filled the cup, pretending to lean on her while they looked at their phone (Soren was on the balcony again).

One of the first things they’d done when they decided they liked Yanni was touch her neck, like this, their hand pressing down on the clasp of her necklace. It dug into their hand, but it dug into her neck too, and was the first step in conditioning her to put up with mild discomfort in exchange for Ren’s touch and attention. Of course, they would never do anything terrible to her, no no, they wouldn’t be mean to their friend, but they liked knowing that they could, that their friends would let them. They were better now, than as a teenager. Smoother, sharper, smarter about this. They hadn’t conditioned Soren successfully in their youth, having to wait until he was a precious little Box Boy to get him acting like he should, but they were doing a fine job of manipulating Yanni. She was willing to put up with most anything, these days.

“See you at lunch,” Yanni said, steam wafting out from the little hole in the plastic lid. “You’ve got so much office gossip I need to catch you up on!”

“Looking forward to it,” Ren said honestly, giving her a quick kiss on the temple before returning to their office.

They thought about it. Yanni was very, very much a lesbian, so therefore would pose no “threat” for Ren with Soren. Her interest in him really and truly would be entirely aesthetic, and she would have no interest in taking what was Ren’s. She wasn’t violent, and respected other people’s properties (Ren’s more than most), so she wouldn’t hurt Soren, but she was also a little careless and very energetic, so she might play a little rough. She might shake Soren up a bit, leave him nervous and trembling and desperately folding into Ren’s embrace, which was definitely desirable. She might also just coo over him, pinching his cheeks and braiding his hair and fawning until she got bored and demanded Ren distract her in other ways, which was also fine. 

Ren tried to think of possible downsides to inviting Yanni over, examining potential outcomes thoroughly. They did, after all, like to be prepared. They especially couldn’t afford to be careless with Soren, not when they had him just like they wanted him. But all they came up with were pros. Yanni would undoubtedly like Soren, and would be further convinced to buy a Box Babe of her own. That would mean she’d waste less time trying to find hookups or dates, which detracted her attention from Ren, and would leave her better able to focus on them, devote her time to them. 

If she bullied Soren a little, it would leave him clingy and needy. If she bullied Soren too much, it wouldn’t happen instantaneously, and Ren could step in when things crossed a line, and Soren would be grateful and view them as his savior (which they were, anyway). If she was nothing but sweet and friendly, well, Soren deserved that. Ren would be able to show off how well trained Soren was, which was a stroke to their vanity, and Yanni would get more quality time with Ren, which the two of them hadn’t had in a while.

They checked in on Soren again (in the kitchen now, and when they checked their clock it was about lunchtime), got up from their desk, and headed out to the vending machine. They bought a bar of super-dark chocolate and swung by Yanni’s office, decorated with streamers and rainbows and artfully nude paintings and photographs of women. 

“Knock knock,” they said, after they’d already crossed the threshold and were in the middle of sauntering to her desk. She looked up, grinned bright, and then saw that they had a chocolate bar in hand.

“Oooo, you get me something?” she asked, hand already extended, and they dropped it into her palm with a pleasant hum.

“You know I like spoiling you.”

“I dooooo, you dooooo,” she cooed, unwrapping it and taking a bite. “Is it lunch already?”

“Sure is. Also, you should stop by after work today and meet my little Soren.”

“Hell yes!” Yanni said, sticking the bar in her mouth so she could lock up her computer with both hands. She looped her arm around Ren’s, and the two went to lunch, Yanni informing them of all the office gossip over green iced tea and shakshouka. The knowledge that Carl’s father had recently passed was useful. It meant he would be… vulnerable. It did put a closing-window-time frame on whether or not Ren liked him enough to want him, though. If they didn’t, he wouldn’t be worth the effort, emotional vulnerability or no. Sure, Carl was nice enough, but he was getting kind of old, and didn’t exactly have enough clout to make him useful.

But he did have that lovely sense of humor, and he gave out compliments easily, which Ren liked. Decisions decisions.

“Back to the grind,” Yanni said with a sigh as they tossed their trash.

“Halfway there,” they comforted, touching her back. “I’ll see you after work, puppy,” they said, playful and quiet. Calling her puppy was an inside joke between them, given how excitable and bubbly she was, how easy it was to get her wound up. They always said it affectionately, so she knew they weren’t calling her a bitch or anything, that was the last connotation they wanted with their words. But she really was, she was their cute little puppy.

And Soren was their pretty little bird, whose wings they’d finally clipped. 

Yanni’s voice echoed through their home when the two walked through the front door that evening, and when she laughed brightly Ren took the opportunity to call out, “Soren, baby, heel!”

Soren rounded the stairs the moment after; he must have started coming when he heard their voices. “Ohhh, he’s even cuter in real life!” Yanni squealed as he came down, and when Ren opened their arms he rushed to them, eyes lingering nervously on Yanni. 

“Soren, this is Yanni,” Ren said sweetly, voice once again taking that high pitch like they were talking to a child.

“Hello, Yanni,” Soren said, reluctant to be pushed away from Ren’s chest.

“Hello sweetie!” she cooed, reaching out and pinching his cheeks. Ren chuckled breathily. They were definitely pinchable. “You are just as cute as a button omg! Oh, oh, is he name brand?”

“He is,” Ren said proudly, stroking his hair and letting the silky strands fall off their fingers in a small cascade. 

“So he comes with like, positions and stuff, right?”

“Soren, position two.”

Soren collapsed to his knees, eyes turned to Ren, who smiled at him.

“Aaaa, okay, okay, uh, position four!” Yanni said. Soren glanced to her, then back at Ren, who made a ‘go on’ kind of gesture. Soren lifted up off his ankles, though remained on his knees, and extended his wrists to Yanni, who giggled.

“How abouuuuut, twelve! No, thirteen!” Soren stopped mid-motion, then slipped easily into position, and Yanni rattled off a few more random numbers.

“Which one’s your favorite?” Yanni asked, beaming at Ren.

“Soren, Position 22.”

Soren knelt, much like position two, only this time his jaw dropped open.

“EW! You perv!” Yanni said with a high giggle, punching Ren in the shoulder. Ren laughed along with, and punched back. They always punched back harder, and they always punched back last. She accepted this about them, though sometimes in her rowdier moods they would be forced to leave her rubbing at her arm with a half-hidden wince. “So, you fuck him then?” she asked, rounding Soren and tugging experimentally on a lock of hair. “Oh wow it is soft,” she muttered, grabbing a handful.

“Not yet,” Ren said lazily, observing Soren’s cute little winces, the way his throat worked as he tried to swallow his spit with an open mouth, attempting to prevent himself from drooling. “I want the first time to be perfect.”

Yanni nodded with a noisy inhale. “I do know this about you,” she said. “Man, now I really want a Box Babe.”

“You should get one; they’re delightful.”

“Huh Soren, should I get one?” Yanni asked, sitting down on her haunches and pulling him back against her shoulder, hand on top of his collar.

“I-If you think you’d like one, ma’am.”

“I wouldn’t wait to fuck mine, though,” she said, almost conversationally, booping Soren on the nose.

“And I know this about you,” Ren said with a chuckle. “Noisy slut that you are.”

“It’s true, I’m the sluttiest,” Yanni said, standing and using Soren’s shoulder to help herself up. She pulled on his hair, forcing his head back so he looked up at her. “And these pets really are just to die for, huh?”

“I wouldn’t say die, maybe just spend lots of money on,” Ren said. They snapped their fingers. “Soren, here.”

Soren rushed to them, barely even hiding that he was glad to be out from under her tugging and prodding hands, and when they kissed him he kissed back eagerly, pressing his body up against theirs, gratitude and relief clearly bleeding through his touch. 

“Oh that so does it, I’m getting one. Wanna help me look?” Yanni asked, wrapping her arms around Ren’s waist from behind and going tip-toed to rest her chin on their shoulder. Thoughts of what it would be like to have her collared and doing this, of being sandwiched between two of their favorite friends, maybe tugging on Yanni’s collar a little, came into Ren’s mind, and they smiled brightly.

“Sure! I can show you some of the other sites I was looking at too; even the ones that aren’t big brands can have some attractive wares.”

“Okay,” Yanni said easily, “Oh but first, we have to see if that purple one from the lineup is still available. Seriously, Ren, you’re gonna lose it when you see her, she’s SO pretty!”

“Well, c’mon then,” Ren said, beckoning them both into the living room and pulling out their computer. They pulled up the Whumpees-R-Us homepage and Yanni nuzzled up against their side, giggling. “Soren baby, come up on the couch with us too,” Ren said as they pulled up the Box Babes lineup.

“Oh, she is pretty,” they remarked, zooming in on the one in purple. They hooked the arm they weren’t using to navigate the mouse around Soren’s shoulders, pulling him in nice and close.

“Isn’t she though? God, she’s just, look at her tits!”

“I’m looking, I’m looking, they’re hard to miss!” Ren said with a laugh. 

“How do we see if she’s still for sale?” Yanni asked, and Ren clicked around.

“Oh, yeah, she’s sold. Here, let’s pull up the available listings? Or do you want to customize?”

“Ugh, I’m not that rich. And I’m not my mama’s special favorite, either,” she said teasingly, and Ren elbowed her in the rib.

Yanni laughed. “Filter it though. I want big tits and low intelligence.”

After a bit of scrolling and some more filters, Yanni found one she liked, a beautiful young thing, and Ren tugged on Soren’s hair. 

“Huh, Soren, what do you think of her?” Ren asked, angling the laptop a little.

“She’s, um, very pretty? And, her number is pretty low, which means, I think, she’d be happy to have a mistress, and grateful.”

“Do low numbers mean they’ve been there a while?” Yanni asked.

“Mm. Usually. That, or th-they were, um,” Soren looked away, and Ren tightened their hold, which made him unwind ever so slightly, “refurbished.”

“Ohhhh, so she could be a naughty bitch,” Yanni said thoughtfully, tapping her fingers against her chin.

“E-Either way, she’ll be grateful, ma’am, I, I’m sure!”

“We should check her personality statistics,” Ren said, smoothing their palm over Soren’s pretty head, letting him press his face to their chest and tremble against them. 

Personality stats were good, she was as-of-yet unbought so concerns of refurbishment were null, and Ren enjoyed the little twitch that Soren gave every time the word “refurbish” was said. Yanni ended up buying her on Ren’s computer, with her credit card, and kissed their cheek before she left for the night.

“See you tomorrow!” she called.

“See you tomorrow,” they answered, and as soon as she’d closed the door they turned to Soren, lifting his chin.

“My pet, you seem distressed.”

“I, I,” Soren tried, and they felt a thrill up their spine at how tears were gathering in his eyes. “I didn’t… I don’t…”

“Shhh,” Ren hushed, thumbing away his gathering tears. “Shush, now, darling, think it through, use your words. Take your time my sweetheart, shhh.”

Soren pressed his face to Ren’s shirt, clinging to them, and they pet his hair.

“I. Don’t like thinking about the facility. I don’t like r-remembering--I, I know you said what I was before d-doesn’t matter, but,” Soren took a deep breath, “i-it was scary, and, and then we, talked about,” Soren hiccuped, “refurbishment, and, Exalted, Honored One, please, please, I-I’m good, please, I don’t…”

Soren was trying very hard not to break down, it was clear, but he was getting glassier, out of focus. Ren shushed him again and lifted his face, exposing his neck.

“Soren, baby, give me your hand,” they purred, and they guided it to his collar. The shift was instant. His whole body shuddered, lips parting, and his eyes closed with a heavy exhale, other hand coming up and gripping the collar also.

“I’m yours,” he murmured, reverent as a prayer, “I’m yours, I’m all yours. I won’t ever belong to anyone but you. No one else will touch me, no one else will get me, I won’t go anywhere without you.” He rocked slightly on the couch, knuckles white from how tightly he held his collar, and Ren smiled, happy and sweet and content.

“That’s right baby. I’ll let my friends come over and play with you, but they’ll never hurt you. I’ll sign you up for classes, but you only go there with my knowledge and permission. Everything about your life, I have ahold of, Soren. I’m taking care of you.”

“Yes,” Soren moaned, “Yes, I’m yours, I’m yours. My whole life is in your hands, you have the control.”

“That’s right,” Ren cooed, pulling him into their arms and kissing his hair. “That’s right. That’s my precious boy, oh, Soren, take comfort in me.” Their arms squeezed around him a little tighter. “Take your comfort in the fact that you are mine.”

Next

[sleepymouses]

tagged by @littlepetbee, thank uuuu <3 i spent way too long thinking about htis lol,

Rules: pick 5 shows, then answer the following questions, tag a bunch o ppls to do it too (if y’all want to, supes no pressure or anything!)

Natsume yuujinchou  (a teenage orphan who sees spirits/monsters sets out to free the spirits who were bound in magical contract by his grandmother after he inherits a powerful book, aided primarily by a spirit who appears as an exasperated fat cat (who is just as fun as he sounds). Titular character is like my Fave boy in the whole world, he’s so kind and soft despite all the hardships he’s faced, the series has very gentle pacing/character development, and each episode is a carefully crafted lil story that have often moved me to tears, chuckles, or outright chinhands of fondness as u watch natsume slowly find a home in the world and amongst the humans &spirits around him. big focus on friendships, there’s like no romance with any of the main characters, lots of cool different creatures (most of whom arent all that scary once u get to know them), its just literally everything i could ever dream for in a show and it exists! <3)

Leverage (team of modern day robin hoods ruin rich peoples’ lives via  delightfully crafted spy cons to give back to the regular folks the rich people hurt. Extremely good, strong found family vibes, and v cathartic)

Brooklyn 99 (follows diverse cast of character who make up a NY precinct. Hilarious, immensely wholesome & groundbreaking, & probs the most lighthearted crime show besides like psych tbh)

Blackspot/Zone Blanche (spoopy french/belgium crime series set in a small village way out in the mountains surrounded by misty, mysterious and murdery woods. eerie and atmospheric, but also like one of my fave characters (everyone calls him teddy bear) keeps a pet guinea pig at work, so it’s not entirely grim and bleak)

Longmire (a modern western crime drama centering around the titular sheriff and others in their small town wyoming county, well written and lot of chracter development revealed alongside some really good case mysteries bc i love trying to figure out whodunits apparently based on a book series well adored by dads btw)

who is your favorite character in 2? (leverage) ahhh,,, this is hard... Eliot maybe? like Hardison is baby ofc, but i relate to elliot a ton (i think if i was on a team i would want to be the hitter tbh?) and love the subversion of so many action hero tropes that he is, also endlessly amused by how very put upon he is despite all his rad/random skills

who is your least favorite character in 1? (natsume yuujinchou) oh seiji matoba for sure, he can go eat a mouldy tree stump. absolutely evil nasty dude

what is your favorite episode of 4? (blackspot) the end of the road. great opening, didnt end up too devastating unlike a lot of the cases, Hermann was gr8, cool twist i hadnt super expected in the plot which was neat.

what is your favorite season of 5? (longmire) probs 1, walter reeally started to piss me off being Such A Man in later seasons, also me being extremely anxious about Henry and his life choices later, that creepy stalker storyline starting up with Someone and when Someone else in the main cast got died really suddenly and upsettingly later on as well, also when a weird relationship started between some of the characters that i really aint feeling so. before all that happened was nice (also sorry if this is super vague, im trying to avoid spoilers)

who is your favorite couple in 3? (B99) Besides Jake/Amy and Holt/Kevin (bc oviously theyre gr8) uh.. i know it was a long time ago and didnt last very long, but i thought rosa and marcus were really sweet? it brought another layer out to her character, even when they broke up that helped rosa starting to show emotional vulnerability and all, even tho it ended it was still just, idk, i liked them.

who is your favorite couple in 2? (leverage) Does trio count, cos Parker/Eliot/Harding 4 life yo

what is your favorite episode of 1? (natsume yujinchou) i have sooo many faves ahhh!!! i dont think i could pick just one on pain of death, every episode is acrefully cosntructed gem all on its own and i have too many that i love and adore to pick jsut one :((

what is your favorite episode of 5? (longmire) Dog soldier!! ive rewatched that one a ton, so so many good bits, really satisfying resolution of the case despite the shitty system that was revealed, and i rmr getting chills by the end the first time i saw it.

what is your favorite season of 2? (leverage) i guess season 1? just, idk, everything being set up and watching all these grumpies/less grumpies who have no plans to stay together start working together as a baby team, and just the joy of seeing their first heist together with the first plot twist, just.. such a delight, but all seasons that ive seen so far were all excellent, it’s a stellar show

how long have you watched 1? (natsume yujinchou) oh idk exactly, like years and years man... defs the longest out of all on this list

how did you become interested in 3? (b99) i think it was just on netflix way back in season 1 and i started watching it, loved it and never stopped? i think that might have even been before it got rlly popular lol

who is your favorite actor in 4? (blackspot) i dont rlly know any of these french peeps? but teddybear’s one of my fave characters, so hopefully the person who plays him is also cool, in which case hubert delattre (if not, Suliane Brahim does a v good job as the lead)

which do you prefer, 1, 2, or 5? (natsume yujinchou, leverage or longmire) um... real torn between natsume and leverage here, they’re both such lovely gems that do found family so, so well.. leverage is a team of modern robin hood-esque spies with brilliant writing and exciting heists and multiple delightful plot twists every episode and great character building and so much catharticism in ruining evil rich peoples lives.

but natsume’s title character is one of my very favorite characters ever, hes been through so much but he becomes the most kindest and thoughtful boy ever, and its so, so soft and gentle in its development of characters and their slow build of getting to know each other and becoming friends, and the interactions with the paranormal world are very rarely entirely malicious/scary, and there’s pretty well no romance, at least like no romance for plot/with the main characters anyways, and there’s lots of female characters who have important roles but arent sexualized/killed off for man feels/exist for romo (which sadly cannot be said about a lot of media, especially manga/anime tbh, even leverage does not win entirely on that front).. its defintiely my favorite anime ever (i dont watch loads, but literally no other one can ever come close to topping its perfection),

i guess tho, leverage is over, and natsume is still technically ongoing, so i guess for that then i have to go with natsume?

which show have you seen more episodes of, 1 or 3? (natsume yuujinchou or b99) Natsume for sure, they’re so short its easy to power thru like half a season in an afternoon

if you could be anyone from 4, who would you be? (blackspot) i would probably want to be someone who didnt live in villefranche actually haha uh, it’s a pretty spoopity place.. even some of the characters i do like make some Bad decisions that are v bothersome. Dr. Leila barami seems to have a good head on her shoulders tho, so if i Must be a character here then let’s go with her

would a crossover between 3 and 4 work? (b99 or blackspot) oh god... the cheery upbeat department at the 99 meet up with a grim, misty tiny mountain forest village with bleak day to day life, solving crimes amidst small town paranoia and weird maybe cult-related conspiracies and honestbhly something/s paranormal and menacing going on in the woods?? i just... cant see any of the characters even interacting lol, im just picturing jake’s confused befuddled face when he hears something weird but like x 10000

pair two characters in 1 who would make an unlikely but strangely okay couple? (natsume yujinchou) hm... i mean, one of the things i love about Natsume is that there arent really any romo relationships tbh? at least not with any of the main characters in the main storyline (so far), just like the odd one-off of minor characters (and takashi’s adopted parents ofc, but that’s different). so, yeah, i cant really think of one (although i think the big fandom fave ship of takashi and his worst enemy is rlly.. nope, and i dont know what’s going on there? takashi and tanama however, that would make sense, tho it is not unlikely so i cant answer this question with them)

overall, which show has the better storyline, 3 or 5? (b99 or longmire) b99! cos ya know my annoyances with some of the stuff happening later on in longmire lol, b99 just got better n better as it went along, and it’s still going :’)

which has the better theme music, 2 or 4? (leverage or blackspot) blackspot has a real good eerie atmospheric theme which is gr8 and i love it <3 (leverage’s tune is like, elevator music/cheesy jazzy spy tune, which does suit it tho lol)

and idk, anyone bored and stuck at home who wants to do this? no pressure if ur like nah but if u wanna go ahead.... @creepy-friend-of-darkness @anna-wa @rhinky-thingz @rexbasileus @aeolian-harp @warrenkoles @softbrobarnes @damnitttana @cluelesswolf @moondoggiestyle @blloodorangeisthenewblack @my-nail-beds-suck @frankiecolours @savvylikeyeahhh @lake-effectkidx @justhugharry @casualmisandry @j4ya @galaxygalpals @thesecondwarm @dealwright @knipperdollin @curlycombover @kaspbrakeddie (and if i didnt tag u and u still wanna do this, consider yeself tagged)

[kokichi-and-co-imagine-blog]

To everyone: what would your Pokemon teams be and why?

Oh good god.

Well… this is going to get complicated. At least from me.

Let’s start with assuming no legendary Pokemon. Makes life a bit easier. Of course only a bit.

So… first off a lot of this depends on generation and limit. If you’re asking for a full team that I would have with rotations and stuff, we’re looking at… probably close to 10 full teams of 6, maybe even more.

In my defense, I’m a major Pokemon fan and I really really like a lot of them.

Of course, if we’re going to cut down the team to a more manageable six which can be from any region/gen, but only one from each region/gen to keep things interesting and varied… well, it would depend on a lot of things, including mood and such, so if one were to ask me this question again it would likely change. But, here would be, as I feel right now, the team I would use if I was limited to only six, one per region/gen.

1: Lucario. I’ve been a fan of this guy for so so long, ever since it was first introduced. I loved Lucario and the mystery of Mew as a kid (still kinda do). The whole concept behind aura is amazing. One’s spiritual energy/life force/ soul being utilized in combat? Being able to sense others and see without seeing? So awesome. Lucario is just SO. FREAKING. COOL. It’s design is wonderful as well. Jackel/Anubis? Yes please. Plus, I’ve been maining Lucario in Smash Bros. ever since Brawl. You better believe it’s making my team.

2: Tyranitar. Is it probably the weakest pseudo legendary when it comes to typing? Yes. Do I care? No. Tyranitar is BA. First, it’s one of the only two pseudo’s to not be a dragon. Yes, 8 regions, 9 pseudo’s, and only 2 are not dragons. Don’t get me wrong, I love me some dragons. But… variety would be nice, you know? But yeah, not a dragon, still awesome. It’s Godzilla for crying out loud! Plus, its design is just so good. It’s simple but perfect. It’s a giant Lizard creature that could fell mountains. It doesn’t need to be complicated, and is perfectly awe-inspiring and terrifying without being complicated. I also used a Tyranitar in my Ultra Sun playthrough, a male one named Typhon, Man was he fun to use.

3: Golisopod. Listen, if a Pokemon is good enough for YOUR BOI GUZMA to use it on his team, you know it’s a good pokemon. It’s the Alola take on Gyarados and Milotic (weak pathetic first stage with few moves  and while those two do have a slightly higher BST, that ain’t enough to keep my boy Golisopod down. Golisopod’s design is just so good. An Isopod mixed with a Samurai? Sign me right up thank you. It mixes the creepy crawly aesthetic of the bug type with the strong proud samurai perfectly and I love it. And yeah, sure Emergency Exit can be kind of annoying, but it allows you a second usage of First Impression. That is worth it. Also, it’s shiny is dope.

4: Toxtricity. Part of building a team means keeping in mind type composition. I love Grimmsnarl dearly and equally, if not more so, but I already have one Dark-type on the team, so Toxtricity manages to bag this spot. At least, for now considering my current mood. Ask me again tomorrow, or even in an hour, my answer may very well change. Anyway, Toxtricity itself. When I fist saw the design, I wasn’t entirely sure how I felt. It was… interesting to say the least, but I couldn’t figure out what I was looking at, or what it was supposed to be. But after some more time with it, learning more about it and using one I can say that Toxtricity is easily one of my new favorites. Quite possibly my absolute fave from Gen 8. A punk lizard that plays music? Rock/Metal? HECK. YES. The form change is also pretty nice. The stats don’t change between the two, but I honestly like it that way. Just the idea that more energetic natures would have an ‘Amped Up’ form based on an electric guitar while the more mellow natures would have a ‘Lowkey’ one based on a bass is ingenious. Same with the movepool changes. It makes sense that the different forms with their different music preference would have different moves. (My personal fave is the Amped Up, especially with its shiny colors.) Plus, an electric posion type? SO. COOL. Who cares about 4x weak to earthquake, this thing is boss! And Punk Rock is an amazing ability.

5: Flygon. Man oh man was Flygon treated poorly. Added in Gen 3 as a solid pokemon, but with a better attack stat than a special attack one. True, not bad in it of itself but before the Special/Physical split, ALL Dragon-type moves were special. Meaning Dragon Claw, a solid dragon type move back in Gen 3, wasn’t yet a physical move. And Outrage wasn’t even something Flygon could learn yet (it wouldn’t be until Gen 7 that it became a TM). Then came gen 4. Now, I love gen 4. I truly do. It is by far my favorite Gen. And it did do something very good for Flygon. It gave the special/physical split, allowing some Dragon type moves to now be physical as well. But you know what else came along? Garchomp. Honestly, I like Garchomp, I do. But suddenly here we are with a new Dragon/Ground type that is a pseudo-legendary? My poor poor Flygon. And it didn’t get any better. I mean seriously, give Mewtwo and Charizard two megas but none to Flygon? WHILE GIVING ONE TO GARCHOMP WHO DIDN’T NEED IT AND WAS ITS BIGGEST COMPETITION?! Why Game Freak? Why?Anyway, mini-rant aside, I love Flygon. The design is incredible. The line is based on an antlion and is so cool. That sweet green design and the little lenses over the eyes? Perfect, just perfect. Plus, it has some sweet lore. Appearing in sandstorms with haunting music coming from its wings? Yes please. Beautiful pokemon that was done such disservices. It’s a shame really. With Megas gone, Flygon will likely never get that final boost it needs. Though considering it is in Galar while Garchomp isn’t… maybe Flygon will have a chance to shine again. (A shame though that it will never get to have a type change to Bug Dragon. Would be sick.) Regardless of the future though, Flygon will always have a place in my heart, and in my team. 

6: Zoroark. Yeah, I know what I said about team composition above with Toxtricity and Grimmsnarl. But  I also pointed out mood has a lot to do with it. Anyway, for Zoroark itself. Like Lucario, I’veb een a fan for so long, ever since it was first introduced. It’s kinda funny in a way. Zoroark acts as the perfect yin to Lucario’s yang. Lucario uses aura to sense things and to see, Zoroark is the maser of illusions. In it of itself, this illusion business is awesome, but add in how it counters Lucario and it works just so well. Typing as well, Lucario is a fighting steel, the type you’d think of for a chivalrous paladin of justice and truth, while Zoroark is dark (evil type in Japan), perfect for a sly illusion master. Of course, it’s not just dualism with Lucario. The line is just so amazing itself. Clearly drawing from Kitsune, Zoroark is a sly fox that is able to not just use illusions, but masters them to the point of being able to create solid constructs out of them (see the anime). It is just so cool, how can I not love it? Also, like Tyranitar before it, I used a female one named Vixen in my Ultra Sun playthrough and it was a delight. 

Anyway, that would be my team. You know, assuming all the limitations I put on myself and my mood at this moment. But if you guys enjoyed this and want to know more about my favorite pokemon, please let me know. I’m always happy and excited to talk about Pokemon.

Anyway, going to hand this over to the other mods. I’ve been monopolizing this ask for too long.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ooo!! This’ll be fun to answer! Cause, well, I love Pokémon!!!

But, forgive me for this; I haven’t played any of the games.

So im just saying my favorite characters!!!

1: Glacieon, I really, really like glacieons and have always loved ice type Pokémon. Mainly because I really like the cold. Like; really, really, like the cold. I also really like her attacks, their cool!!! (Pun intended)

2: Furret. Absolutely furret, I never knew why I liked furret, but. I’m just gonna blame it on me really liking Ferrets and cause I honestly have really liked normal types for some reason.

3: Vulpix (either one), I really like any fire type Pokémon mainly because I’ve always just had a very weird interest in fire and because vulpix can be either a fire or ice Pokémon I love that about them. And they remind me of a bunch of irl animals that I love!!

4: Smom , I LOVE THOSE LIL ICE BABEYS SO MUCH!?!? They are so cute-!? I JUST LOVE THEM SO MUCH???! They are all my children and I want to adopt them all, and I will. No one can stop me………except maybe the other mods-

5: Sylveon, absolutely. I always have such an attachment even with digital animals, so I absolutely would give my eevee enough attention and love for them to evolve into sylveon. Honestly, it’d end up be accidental, but, I still really love Sylveon, and wouldn’t care if I got more than one of them-

6: Flareon, listen- I just love eevees okay-? I love them all so so much, and would lay down my life for each and every one of them. Just 💞💞💕💖💓💖💝💞💖💕💝💓💕💞💖💞💖💝💘💖💕💕💞

——————————————————————————

Ah, I bet you missed hearing from me! No worries, I’ll tell you my pokemon team, even if it’s not particularly exciting.

First off, a Pachirisu is a must for my team. I’ve always loved how hyper it can be and the mishaps it would cause. Plus, c’mon- who doesn’t like its color scheme?

I’d also incorporate Chimchar to my team. I’ve always had a soft spot for Chimchar, since it was my first ever starter and I leveled mine all the way up to 100 in my Pokemon Platinum playthrough.

Yamper definitely had my heart the moment I saw it! I have a really strong love for dogs, and its addition to the game got me so excited!! Kirigiri can vouch for me on that one.

Growlithe is also integral to me. When my dog was a puppy, I used to jokingly call her a growlithe. I don’t think I still have pictures, but I even got her a floof for halloween once so she could be in a costume with me. Also... Arcanine is seriously badass.

Wooloo is super cute too! I love that it rolls away from its problems, and I, too, wish to do that. Plus the braids immediately reminded me of Peko, so I was super soft for it the moment it was revealed.

Finally, I’ll add my favorite Eeveelution to the team: Glaceon! Something about its sleek design always made me happy, and the way its fur sharpens as defense is super interesting!

(If legendaries were allowed on the team, I would’ve added either Giratina or Shaymin. They’re my favorites.

[fivebrights]

hello im that one ask anon from MQT page and I was wondering if you could tell me about the djinn? they seem so hecking cool I’m really curious about them and the design they have. if you’d like to share any headcanons you have for them it would be really neat to read!!

Hi anon! I’m really glad you came to talk to me, and I’m just as glad that I’ve finally been able to set aside the time for your ask (it came in just as I was gone for the better part of a week–sorry about that!).

So you want to know about the djinn. For this I think it’s best I direct you to the Guild Wars Nightfall Manuscripts for a quick rundown–it has an enlightening and succinct summary of Tyrian djinn, and nothing beats primary sources. 

My own summary is that Tyrian djinn are ethereal, elemental beings who tend to be quite aloof towards other races and world affairs-with some fascinating exceptions (such as the djinn who work at Sand Jackal Run). The city of Ahdashim in Northern Vabbi is the djinns’ home, loosely speaking: in it exists the central authoritative body for djinn, although many djinn live outside Ahdashim’s walls and - it seems - its laws. The djinn have a long, painful history of being enslaved by humans, and most djinn still wear (broken) shackles as a testament to this fact. Djinn enjoy both tests of wit and steel, and they are also known for being shapeshifters and protectors of both land and valuables.

As for headcanons, I have so many that I have a special channel in a friends’ server with its own table of contents (two dozen entries and counting, some of which are quite long). In sum, way too much to summarize in a single ask! Here’s a few topics you can ask me about (and I hope you will, because I can’t narrow this list down on my own!):

Djinn physiology (e.g. appearance, elemental abilities, the effects of ley poisoning and draconic corruption, etc).Djinn culture, society, and politicsDjinn history (djinn enslavement esp, although this category also includes locations of historical significance)Headcanons for individual djinn characters (incl. OCs).

I’ll also leave you a list of notable djinn:

1. Zommoros. Master of the Mystic Forge, Elonian exile, incorrigible gambler. He’s endearingly reckless and very much the idealist, and a force to be reckoned with in a fight…if you can prompt him to pick up a weapon. You meet him in the raid Mythwright Gambit–and I highly recommend you meet him.

2. Qadim. Collector of exotic specimens and unrepentant enabler of Zommoros’s terrible betting habits. He’s hinted at some fascinating lore, including claims of collecting creatures for his menagerie from places “beyond Tyria,” and implying in a recent journal entry that species long thought extinct, like the Seers and Colossus, are still in existence.

3. Ellutherius Wintergust. Palace of Aban resident, old soul. Has a soft spot for his former master, an unnamed prince from who-knows-how-long-ago. Ellutherius is a little addled, but he’s very sweet. If you take the time to talk to him, he’ll treat you to some riddles. 

4. Cardinal Adina and Cardinal Sabir. Two surviving leaders of Ahdashim before the Commander & co. gatecrash the city in the raid The Key of Ahdashim. Adina and Sabir are very much representatives of their respective elements, earth and air–Adina is tough and unwavering in conviction, a no-nonsense sort; Sabir is flighty and nervous and often seeks approval of those around him. 

5. Zohaqan, The Stormcaller. Extremely unusual in his ability to wield not only his native element water, but also earth and air. He eloped with his human lover, Nakis, to live out their days in The Sandswept Isles.

Other djinn I recommend meeting are Drojkor, Spirit Squall, owner of Many Good Dogs; Shazuul, jilted janitor of Vehtendi Academy; Yasmi, who delights in bloodsport between mortals; and Ziya the Radiant (and her old acquaintance Vemyen), pioneer of Brand resistance. 

That was a fair bit to start you off with - and I’m also not entirely sure what you know already; let me know if I need to further contextualize some of this, because it does assume some working knowledge of the expansion Path of Fire and Living World Season 4 - but I hope it interested and informed you, and I’d be happy to speak in depth on any of the topics I’ve listed above. Cheers! ✨

[cryptid-bloodhound]

The Phantom Agony

So, this was totally for @ajays-lullaby​ for that music ask game and uh...it got like wayyy longer than intended. So rather than put it all in the ask (bcus I can’t put a read more in there i don’t think??) i decided to make a separate post. Otherwise yall would h a t e me for the clunky ass text. anyway, hope yall enjoy! <3

Characters: Wraith, Bloodhound

Notes: It’s a total supernatural/fantasy AU. Ghost!Wraith (aka Wraith!Wraith bcus i think im funny) and Monster Hunter!Bloodhound. It can be platonic or romantic if u squint depending on your preference. Wraith has no memories, mean voices, and bad anxiety. she just needs a hug.

Read On: Ao3

Random Song Selected for the Prompt: Monster - Starset

“My heart's an artifice, a decoy soul Who knew the emptiness could be so cold? I've lost the parts of me that make me whole I am the darkness I'm a monster“

Deep in the wilds forgotten by time lurked the shadow of a woman lost to despair. It was a desolate place that reeked of woe. What life had once flourished there had long since been chased away by the tormented entity. Trees stood barren and brittle, casting long, gnarled shadows in every direction like greedy hands. Nothing but cold dirt and stones pocked the ground. Everywhere else in this forest was thriving and beautiful. Everywhere except for the den of the Wraith.

She could not remember anything; not her name, her age, how long she had been trapped here, or where all of this anger came from. It was as if she simply came into being one day full of anguish and hate. There was an endless aching in her skull in the form of callous voices. They're insidious little whispers just at the furthest reaches of her mind, tempting her with memories she could never quite grasp. Try as she might, they always seemed just out of her reach. It was maddening. She wanted to know who she was, why she was stuck here, why everything hurt, hurt, hurt-

She could recall voices, though.

So many voices.

They scratched aching grooves into her nerves when those harsh tones rose in her mind. What they said, she couldn’t catch but it filled her with a God-awful dread. Always the same voices, always the same tones.

And she could remember pain.

So much pain.

Like torn sinew and choking breath, it crawled through the ghost of her nerves. Over and over and over and over. She just wanted it all to stop! 

There had been a fear so strong in those lost memories that it branded her soul. She could still taste its acrid flavor like bile on her tongue. How utterly cruel it is that she can taste nothing but her fear. Her fear and her rage. She was but a phantom of suffering, wailing pleas and profanities into the deep, yawning abyss around her. She would grip her head and scream, scream, scream for help but no one ever came. No one that stayed, that is.

At first, she did not know what she was. Not until some hikers crossed her path, that is. They walked into her grove, a light and joy in their eyes that made her ache. She called out to them but they did not answer. She walked up to them and asked for help. Still, they did not answer. They walked around her sacred area with wide eyes, remarking on the eerie feeling all around, pointing out the oddly dead foliage, and joking as if she were not there. An ugly, pernicious feeling curdled her gut at the callous display.

Then, the man let out a loud, sharp laugh and a spike of utter terror pierced her to the core. It echoed like a record stuck on repeat in her head. That sound was so very much like the one in her sparse memories. Had she a breath, it’d be caught in her throat. Instead, that cold fear twisted and turned inside of her. It thawed and melted, kept heating up until it boiled over. This... This was one of them. All of her pain and dread and hate spewed forth like a volcano and she positively erupted. With bared teeth and clawed hands, she rushed forward. Her presence was felt like a harsh gust of wind - the herald of a coming storm. 

She could not feel her strikes land but the fear in the couple’s eyes and red lines forming on his face let her know that the manifestation of her wrath could certainly be felt. Nature trembled and bowed to her unearthly power as the people skittered over themselves to escape. The Wraith went to take chase but was held back by an unknown force. No matter how hard she pulled at the unseen tether or beat against the invisible wall, she could not leave. Those voices in her head wailed with gnashing teeth, hungry for vengeance. They were left to starve.

From that revelation came a cruel, aching bitterness. There were people out there who took her life from her. They twisted her into some sort of monster and she was stuck here, forced to live in damnation because of it. That bitterness and agony swelled like a balloon. She would chase away any who dared enter her grove because having them there was just another form of torture. She wanted to speak with them. She wanted to feel the warmth of another’s touch, a caring embrace, something . But she was denied even that simple kindness. It was the low hanging fruit she simply could not get. The oasis just beyond her fingertips. And just like the old Fox’s fable, she grew sour over that taunting temptation. It was better to push them all away than to be tormented even further. 

It was better to be alone than in agony.

She could not recall how long it had been since the last person fleed from her territory. Time seemed so very inconsistent to The Wraith. Hours, days, years. It meant nothing to her. So she stalked her lonesome grove with a void in her soul that would not leave. There were times she regretted chasing all who came here away because this desolation felt too close to torture these days.

Hadn’t it always?  

She pushed those prodding little voices back as hard as she could. There was no use wondering about ‘what if’s and ‘I should have done’s. This is the path she chose and she will stay to it with her chin up and the fierce conviction that was undeniably all her. No amount of longing or rapacious voices will make her backpedal. What’s done is done, after all.

So, when the day came when an oddly masked figure approached her grove she beat back those feelings of yearning and clamped down on the ache inside of her. The Wraith would chase this one away just like all the rest. They would simply walk by her, taunt her with the life she’s been denied, and dangle comfort like a toy. With the same hard stare and clenched fists, she drew upon her pain and prepared to bring the Heavens down once again. 

But something strange occurred.

That figure stopped just at the edge of her grove, mere inches from her invisible barrier. They cocked their head as if curious while looking around slowly. Their outfit was unlike any she had laid her eyes on before. Armor was not typically worn by any but soldiers and even then it was unlike this armor. Regardless of the oddity, she remained prepared for that inevitable moment they’d cross her threshold. They were probably another adventure seeker or ‘ghost hunter’ looking for a thrill. The frown tugging her lips only deepened at the thought. The Wraith despised those sorts the most. Her agony was not an attraction to be delighted by and she would entertain none who thought otherwise.

“May I enter your home?”

The unexpected words nearly startled the spectral being. Never before had someone attempted to speak to her. It sent a jolt through her body and that malignant current she built up wavered.

“What?”

As soon as she answered she felt foolish. No doubt this one was speaking to ‘The Ghost of the Shattered Forest’. Before she could even get back to scowling, that masked face turned to look directly at her. 

“I humbly requested entrance to your home.”

Again, she was at a total loss. What traction she had built crumbled like sand between her fingers. There was absolutely no way this individual heard her. The Wraith tried desperately not to get her hopes up as that masked gaze never wavered from her direction.

“You can see me?”

Her voice, soft and ethereal, wavered ever so slightly at the end of her words. ‘No!’ She yelled at herself. ‘I can’t hope for this.’ Had she not already been dead then surely the crushing disappointment would end her entirely. But, as she tried to smother that devilishly persistent flicker of hope, that mask gave a quiet nod of acknowledgment. She trembled with nerves she thought were long gone. 

“But... how? Nobody else can.”

There was a fragileness like ill-tempered glass in her voice that she despised . It’s just been so, so long since she spoke to someone - since she felt alive . If she had tears to shed, she feared they would get the best of her. Even now, just this small confirmation had her choke back a sob of pure joy. 

“I have been gifted with sight by the Gods.”

Their voice was just as odd as their armor. An accent curled heavily around their words in a way she was unfamiliar with. Foreign, then. She couldn’t help but wonder if they truly were blessed to see such a creature as her or if they were delusional. In her eyes, such sight would be nothing short of a curse. She cleared her throat - a useless but ingrained habit - as she composed herself. This was a stranger. One who could see her. One who may hurt her. Those snarling, snapping voices tried to tempt her to violence. It would be best to destroy this person before they had a chance to cause her more pain. 

That grotesque desire was so strong it nearly suffocated her. She would not heed them. After all, she was no one’s puppet. Still, even the chance of danger had her ghostly, almost translucent eyes narrowing suspiciously. Once bitten, twice shy.

“Who are you?”

The stranger never shifted from their spot, she noted. She had never permitted them to cross into her withered grove and they acknowledged that. Instead, they stood calm and tall, exuding a peace she can’t recall ever feeling. It made that hunger in her rise like a leviathan. She wanted that peace. Whether it was due to her desire for comfort or that damning hunger, she gestured for the hunter to step into her territory. They gave a gracious gesture and took but a few steps forward before halting.

“I am Blothhundr, a Hunter of the Gods. You may call me Bloodhound.”

That wariness didn’t wane after their introduction. If anything, all it accomplished was setting her teeth on edge. There was a war waging in her head between the desire to close the distance and drink in the company she’s long been denied and the desire to cast them far, far away so she would be safe. That inner battle caught her tongue for a moment and kept her rooted in her spot. Finally, she was able to push past the haze of violent screams echoing like sirens to get out a response.

“And what are you hunting?”

They paused for only a moment before uttering a single word.

“Monsters.”

Just like that, her hopes shattered all around her. There was something utterly devastating about finally getting just what one has always desired only for it to be twisted so cruelly. She had no doubt this proclaimed Divine Hunter was here for her head. Perhaps she shouldn’t have been so harsh to the mortals who crossed her path. That bitterness mixed with a swell of fear and it reminded her of something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. It came in the form of the singing silver of blades unsheathed and cruel, husky voices.

While the voices screamed for action and her body trembled to flee, she stood her ground proud and tall. Perhaps under all of that fear of what’s to come was a shred of dark relief. Anything would be better than this lonely Hell, wouldn’t it? Regardless, she would face her hunter with all of her fierce, untamed fury. She wouldn’t go quietly into the night. Not again. That ethereal energy she possessed built around her once more as she prepared for their inevitable clash.

“I take it that monster is me?”

As she spoke, she jutted her chin up in defiance, letting it be known that she would be no easy prey. Instead of aggression, however, she was met with pacifism. They raised their gloved hands in a placating gesture that once again surprised her. 

“My apologies, I have not made my intentions clear. No, you are not the one I am after.”

They sounded completely sincere but how would she know any better? Her disbelief colored her voice dark with its dry, skeptical undertone.

“Really?”

Still, the odd hunter seemed unfazed. They merely gave another polite nod.

“Já.”

That frown on her face only deepened further. They lapsed into a tense silence as she eyed them up warily. There was a barely concealed hostility just beneath her wraps as those voices implored her to act. Once more, the hunter spread their hands out wide in a grand gesture meant to convey some sort of understanding.

“Not all óvættr are wraiths and revenants. Some appear as men. They are the most monstrous of all. They are who I am after.”

Again, something in her head twisted sharply. There was a thought - a memory - at the very edges of her mind. It left her itching to chase that particular white rabbit. Still, she did not speak. She did not want to encourage this enigmatic hunter to keep raising her hopes back up. It’s a trick , the voices claimed. Her jaw clenched and she felt a phantom pain from the pressure. They continued on.

“Truly, I do not believe Wraiths to be monsters at all.”

She scoffed in utter disbelief. 

“You’d be the first.”

The sardonic, baleful words slipped from her tongue without her permission. She snapped her mouth shut as soon as the last syllable left her lips. The abrupt, almost angry cut-off didn’t seem to bother her newfound companion. They just shook their head, an almost mournful hunch to their once-squared shoulders.

“I am aware. Many misunderstand that which they fear and they fear that which they do not understand. Wraiths are born of violence and injustice. They are innocent souls who met a fate they did not deserve. So they are trapped, unable to find friðr until they find justice. “

Their words stirred up a violent hurricane within her. Flashes of faces colored her vision until it was all she could see. Voices and metal-on-metal beat in her ears. The suffocating scents of leather, dirt, and smoke choked her airless lungs. It all flashed too fast for her to catch but she knew - she knew - where all of her hate and fear came from. This one, they spoke the truth. Something utterly profane happened to her and it robbed her of all that she once was. It left that disgustingly familiar hollow ache in its place. It pulsated like a fetid wound. This wasn’t fair! The dead should not hurt so deeply!

“That’s what happened to me?”

It came out a whisper full of turmoil. The Wraith could hardly untangle this confusing web of emotions she was feeling. It left her wanting to lash out like a wounded, cornered animal as she was used to doing. Without realizing it, she had squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to push the wailing voices and barbed feelings far away. It felt like she would shake apart from the endless tide beating against her soul. 

Stop, please stop!

“It would seem so.”

The soft voice was so much nearer than it had been before. It startled her, though not nearly as much as the gloved hand on her shoulder. She could feel the weight of their hand and the warmth of the glove against her icy skin. So shocking was this gesture that even the voices were silenced for a change. The Wraith could not help but stare with wide doe eyes and gasp quietly.

“How are you able to do that?”

As if only just realizing what they’d done, Bloodhound retracted their hand quickly. She almost wanted to chase the touch, much to her chagrin. Just how starved of affection had she become? ...That was a question she truly did not want answered for surely it would only upset her further. Bloodhound was quiet for a moment before finally answering her question. The tone of their voice hedged dangerously close to uncomfortable.

“...That is a story for another time.”

She frowned slightly at the deflection. The desire to pester them for an answer was strong but then she noticed just how stiff they’d become. Their hands were curled into tight fists and they had turned slightly away from her as if contemplating an escape. A quiet desperation rose in her at the mere thought of being stuck in this lonely purgatory again. 

Wraith quickly reached out, hand hovering over the hunter’s armguard. Slowly, she reached just a bit further until she gently grabbed their arm. For an agonizing moment, she feared her hand would have passed right through them just as it had everyone else. But no, she could feel the rough, worn texture of the metal beneath her ghostly fingers. When she ached, it was with joy this time. Bloodhound slowly looked her direction, stance still ready to run.

“...I accept your help. I...want to remember. Everything. I want...”

Getting the words out was harder than she could have imagined. Asking for help - showing just how vulnerable she is - was so very, very difficult. But, she managed to get the words out there, soft as a spring breeze.

“I want to find peace.”

And by the Gods it was true. There was nothing in this world she wanted more than to finally be at peace. Wraith could only pray that this hunter was true to their word. Slowly, minutely, their stance relaxed. Finally, they gave a small nod and spoke with a confidence that instilled a courage and hope in her she didn’t previously dare let herself feel.

“Then the hunt begins.”

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Of Farms Fairs And Fame (Last Part)

The fact that I had started this one so long ago, makes me all the happier to know that I actually managed to finish it after all this time lol.

It wasn’t quite dark yet, the sky hung somewhere between a soft indigo and the black of night. At the very bottom of the horizon, Azula could see the last tinges of orange and gold. Soft pops and sparkles danced in various spots in the yard.

“Hey, over here! Pass me one!” Toph shouted.

Azula watched Jet rummage through a cooler and toss Toph a bottle of orange-cream pop. For the most part she had gotten good at sensing where objects were, but this time the bottle fell to the grass and she had to stoop down and feel for it.

Across the way, TyLee was weaving flowers into the hair of Zuko and Mai. Near the treeline Katara was waving a sparkler in front of Aang and waiting for him to try to imitate her motions. A little ways away, on the hill, her father and Iroh were working to set up for the firework display.

Azula herself was seated on one of the picnic tables in her yard with a plate in hand. Three attempts in--the first two being chilly in the middle--later she finally had an edible hotdog on her plate and a boyfriend sitting next to her looking entirely pleased with himself. “Not bad fer my first time on the grill.” He commented.

“Eh, coulda been better.” Azula shrugged.

“Hey!”

Azula smiled at him and picked a slice of watermelon off of her plate.

“I werked hard on them first two.” He added in a mumble.

“Ya sure did, but they still tasted mighty awful.” Azula replied with a shrug.

“No! No! You scram! Git!” She heard her dad hollar from the hilltop. She looked over to see Tom-Tom and a pack of rouge school children rolling down the hill giggling and squealing in delight. Noticing the commotion, Mai stood to retrieve her brother. The boy took off in a wild sprint, leaving Mai groaning as she tried to catch up to that human ball of energy. He darted about, nearly slamming into Zuko and shoving between Suki and Yue. The poor girl was so startled that she dropped her bombpop onto Suki’s toes. “I knew I shoulda worn sneakers, stead’a sandals.”  The girl muttered.

“I got ‘im!” TyLee shouted, darting in Tom-Tom’s direction

Azula wasn’t one for pictures or videos but she turned her camera to follow the mini-frenzy. She was going to miss this brand of small-town chaos. At least the videos would give her something to assure her that she would never lose the feel of it.

Tossing her father’s no pigs at the table rule to the side, she lifted Spade onto the wood. She supposed that picnic tables weren’t the same as dinner tables anyhow. She wondered if she could smuggle him onto the plane.

“Hey!” Chan called from by the picket fence, waving she and Sokka over. “Com’mer fer a moment.”

Azula took Sokka’s hand and led him to where Chan was leaning, plastic cup of pepsi in hand. “Just wanted ta congratulate you fer yer record deal. Yer gonna get to go to them big parties now.” He made a grand sweeping gesture. “You’ll have to invite me ta one a them one day.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Azula replied. Of course she had his request on camera so she would be forgetting it that easily.

She stared out at the rolling open field beyond her fence. She didn’t think she had ever seen so many fireflies. The critters were everywhere floating and drifting lazily like dust motes. They blinked on and off at random intervals. It was yet another thing she was happy to have caught in her lenses.

“Gochya!” She heard TyLee declare as Tom-Tom whined in disappointment and disbelief.

“Praise the lord.” Mai grumbled. “Lil’ demon, that one.”

“Aww, he ain’t no demon.”

“Wanna sip?” Chan offered, drawing her attention back.

“Got my own, thanks.” Azula replied.

“Hey, well, we’re gonna miss you over here.” Chan gestured between he, Ruon-Jian, and the rest of his gaggle of boys. “How ‘bout a toast? Yer dorky boyfren’ can join us too.”

“Dorky!?” Sokka sputtered.

“To makin’ it big.” Chan declared.

Azula tapped her cup against his, hoping that the toast wasn’t premature. Chan gave her a wide smile and a thumbs up. With that and a wave, she set off to meet up with Zuko. It was dark enough for her father to begin setting off the fireworks. She made her way through smoke bombs and dodged stray poppers that Toph was chasing Aang with.

“Get yer teeny butt back here Twinkle Toes, you ain’t afraid of a few sparks are ya?” She teased.

“I kinda am, actually.” Aang confessed as she tossed one at his toes. “Katara, help me!”

Katara tried to stifle a laugh.

“Should we…?” Azula started.

“Nah, Kat can handle Toph. She does it all the time.”

Azula dropped herself onto the blanket Zuko had spread out for he and Mai and patted the ground next to her. “Well. Sit.”

“But ain’t that Zuko’s blanket?” Sokka asked.

Azula thought for a moment, tapping her chin as Spade made himself nice and cozy in her lap. “If he wanted it so bad, then he shouldn’t have left it open.”

TyLee flounced up next them and laid herself, belly-down, on the blanket. “Gee, it sure were nice of Zuko to set up this here blanket for us.”

“I set that up for Mai and I.” He grumbled.

“Finders keepers.” Azula retorted smugly.

“Guess I’m sittin’ in your lap.” Mai declared to her boyfriend.

Ozai waited for the last few to acquire their snacks and gather around. As soon as Iroh and Kya got the children to settle, Ozai lit the first. It sailed into the air with a sparkling gold tail, upon reaching its zenith it burst into a twinkling rain. One after the other, roman candles and bottle rockets spit fire and sparks into the sky. Azula hoped that she would shine as bright as them once she took to the stars. Stroking, Spade’s fur, Azula gazed at her semi-crowded yard. Chan still leaned upon the picket fence, this time facing skyward, occasionally cursing as a scrap of firework floated down into his drink. Tom-Tom was snuggled up in his mother’s arms as she protective shield his ears from the blasts. A few of the older children paid the fireworks little attention as they tried to catch fireflies. And Toph was still chasing Aang all around the yard. Sokka wiggled his way closer, putting his left arm around her and leaned into to press the side of his head against hers.

Colorful flashes illuminated much of the backyard and she thought of how Chan and Jet used to tell ghost stories about wild and unknown creatures dragging party-goers and campers into the forest between sparkling burts. She recalled one summer where Suki had made it her mission to dress up as such a creature and steal Ruon-Jian.

With a gentle fluttering in her belly, Azula wondered if she was going to have another moment like that or like the one she was having now. She wondered if this was going to be the last real summer barbecue she was going to have with her friends and family.

She supposed that she best cherish the moment in full and keep that camera close.

After the firework display a few neighbors began their goodbyes and their promises to come back for the next barbeque. In spurts guests would depart until their crowd dwindled down to a few stragglers and their closest friends and relatives. Soon Mai’s mother left to take Tom-Tom to bed--being it was already far past his normal bedtime--with instructions to Mai to have a safe trip home.

For herself, Azula wandered onto the dock with Spade in her arms and TyLee and Sokka beside her. As always, she dipped her feet into the water, watching fireflies flicker between stalks of catkins. The pond had a more fishy smell even without the summer sun to make the scent worse. She knew that soon Iroh and Ozai would be using it to fish before going to bigger ponds and lakes. That they would soon begin planning their annual camping trip. The same one that allowed she and Zuko to always begin their summer shenanigans--it was just one more small little thing that she would miss.

“Congrats on making it to state.” Azula smiled.

TyLee offered a soft, somewhat somber smile in return. Azula wouldn’t be the only one leaving home for a good while. “I’m gonna miss it here, ya know?”

“Absolutely.” Azula replied.  

TyLee perked back up. “Thanks!” She declared. “For the congrats. I’m really excited, after the whole broken leg thing, I didn’t think I were gonna get anywhere. But now…” she paused. “I might be a professional horse racer!”

“You earned it Ty. You been practicin’ real hard.”

“I’m really gonna miss the both’a y’all” Sokka admitted. Azula could swear she heard his voice crack. She looks to the pond and its collection of fireflies drifting lazily over the water. She caught a glimpse of a toad croaking before it leapt beneath the surface. For a while they were quiet with only said croaking and the chirps of crickets to fill that silence.

“‘Bout that, Sokka.” Azula started. “I was actually hopin’ that you’d come with me. It’d be awful hard to try ‘n sing your parts on stage.”

Sokka’s face lit up, but fell almost immediately. “I don’t think I ken afford--”

Azula hushed him. “You better not say no, father already bought yer plane ticket.”

“Yer pops is a nice man. I outta give ‘im a hug.”

Azula punched his shoulder. “Don’t you dare. He ain’t like those.”

Zuko and Mai come to join them on the dock with Katara, Toph, and Aang following close. Even Chan, Jet, and Suki tagged along. “Got somethin’ for you, Azula.” Zuko greeted.

Azula turned to see them holding up a small cupcake. “We each added something to it.” Aang remarked. “I drew the icing smiley faces.”

Zuko pulled out a pack of sparklers. “I figered we could all light ‘em up tagether, one last time ‘for life goes on.”  Azula knew at once that he wasn’t just talking about her and TyLee’s new found stardom, but about his own plans for college as well.

Azula gave a small grin. “I think we can all do that.”

They each reached into the pack and picked out a single sparkler. “Do the honors?” Sokka offered to Azula. She took the lighter and lit her sparkler and used that to light Sokka’s. Sokka turned and lit TyLee’s and TyLee’, Mai’s. And then Mai lit Zuko’s, until everyone had a sparkler burning. It was a dazzling display that reflected in the pond.

In that moment, nothing had changed at all. They were just a large circle of long time, small town friends sharing conversation and laughs as midnight transitioned into very early morning.

Just long time, small town friends, on a typical summer night.

.oOo.

“I know you got your camera, but I want you to have this too.” Iroh handed Azula the small book. He observed her as she looked it over, turning to the page with the photo of she and her companions standing at the pond with sparklers.

Between the mighty sound of plans departing, Azula offered her thank you’s. Ozai listened to his brother and daughter converse.

With nothing else to do her turned to Sokka, “you best take care’a her, boy.” He narrowed his eyes. “If you ain’t take care’a her, I will steal every last cow your family owns.”

“I’m purtty sure she ken take care’a herself.” Sokka pointed out. “But I’ll help.”

“You better, boy. You better.” Ozai folded his arms over his chest. He didn’t doubt that the boy would, he had always seemed to look out for Azula in the past, but it didn’t hurt none to give him a good ol’ fashioned mild threat.

“Hey, thanks fer the tickets, Azula’s pops. We’re gonna have a great time.” Sokka spoke in way of a goodbye.

Ozai watched him dash to catch up to Azula. He allowed Iroh and Zuko to finish their conversations with Azula before coming to her side. He was just as little for cuddles and fluffy gestures as Azula was. But he didn’t push his daughter away when she wrapped her arms around him. He curled one arm around her and pat her head twice with the other. “Don’t you get into any trouble out there, you understand me?”

“I know, father.”

“There’s gonna be boys ‘n booze, ‘n I ain’t want you mixed up in none’a that.”

“I know.” Azula repeated, already looking tired of the conversation. But he was her father and it was his right to give her a well-meaning lecture every now and again.

“I ain’t wanna have to fly all the way over to wherever you are to come help you.” He would, but, lord, he didn’t want to. “So you stick to the music and you keep yourself out’a trouble. Also don’t get too close to that Sokka boy, if you know what I mean. You don’t know what I’ll do to ‘im if...”

“Dad…” Azula grumbled, her cheeks delicately flushed.

“Just…” He trailed off. “Just make your pops proud. Make your ma proud, I know she would be.” He squeezed her shoulder.

“I will father.”

He knew that she would. Still, it was hard to let her go. And harder still to watch her wave as she ascended the stairs to the airplane.

“You raised some good kids.” Iroh took a stand next to him. “Both’a them are gonna go far.”

Ozai sure hoped so. He watched the plane shrink into a small speck in the sky. He supposed that the next time he’d be seeing his daughter, it would be on TV.

“Wha’do ya say we start packin’ fer our own trip?”

“My fishin’ pole’s already in the truck.”

[exolstice-blog]

Sweet Lies | Yixing

[A/N: this was requested by another anonie😖💕

genre: Criminal Investigator!AU , Criminal!AU , Angst , Fluff

group-member: EXO-Yixing

prompt: 25- Being somewhere you’re not supposed to be, (05) “You’re one of the most important things in my life.”

word count: 1885

ummm i actually had this idea for a while so im so happy I got to write it, I hope you all like it✨💓💓

It didn’t take long for you to realize you were in a position you shouldn’t entirely be in at all. 

Alright. Maybe you’d figured part of it when this child—as in, the-man-you-were-supposed-to-incarcerate’s child—threw her tiny arms around you like you were some kind of T.V-bonbon nanny. 

You weren’t much a kids person, not friendly and certainly not sweet. You’d lost all and any capability for sugar-coating the moment you joined the forces, just one in the many casualties of the whiplash of mental barbarity and callous reception. 

So, of course, you could only stand there around and about looking painfully uninterested when the kid began pulling dolls from her backpack so as to make up for the lack of conversation. 

“When is Papa coming?” The girl lifted her mellow gaze to you, doll discarded. Her eyes sparkled with the incredible endeavor of keeping herself from crying. God knew how she’d learned to pull the trick with Zhang Yixing for a father.

“He’ll be here shortly,” you said in as soft a voice you could summon as you looked outside the tarnished apartment window to the rundown street below. As convenient as it was to have some secret den in the worst part of the city—where it sure did not look safe at all and would totally be overlooked as a place to stay—you couldn’t give him all the credit. The move was smart, yes, but other plagues fouled the streets and therefore other things could get you killed. 

Luna seemed to understand that.

“I’m scared,” her fingers fluttered on her lap, arms tentatively rising in a gesture that craved for touch, for a hand to grasp her own. 

“You don’t have to be.” Really, she didn’t. You’d been trained to disarm a man double your weight, to shoot point blank without the needless gnawing feeling of contrition that brought you near to vomiting when the bullet shot straight through the back of his head.

But you weren’t just about to tell her that. You shook your head and shut your mouth, pushing yourself away from the window and coming closer to the girl.

“I’m here.”

That should be enough. You weren’t someone for pretty words and consolations, and so you couldn’t believe all that “it’s going to be alright” bullshit yourself, even more when—

“Thank you.” You stiffened again when her arms came around you, when she pressed her head like a little cat on your waist and hid her tears in your coat. 

Now, this shouldn’t be happening. Not when the existence of this girl was practically unknown to you still until barely a mere three days ago and specially not when you were betraying yourself (becoming all fluff and rainbows and all for this kid) for a man you’d started catching feeling for and whom you were supposed to investigate. 

So, yeah, you could only stand there, petting her head like the small creature that she was and wonder what the fuck was going on.

Then, the door creaked, and you had your gun out before it could be opened, shoving Luna behind you. A breath, your aim and—

“Papa!” 

You heaved a sigh with Yixing entering the room with a gun of his own, handing it to his right man when Luna ran and leaped to his arms. 

“My baby,” he seemed to be gasping, rocking the little one in an embrace, more to comfort himself than to appease her. “I’m so sorry.”

“I thought you wouldn’t come see me,” Luna was crying, having finally given in to what had put her in a trance all those hours that you’d waited.

Yixing clutched her tight, “You’re one of the most important things in my life. No, you are my life, my moon. If something happened to you...”

You swallowed, turning your back on the two and encasing your gun. You’d never seen Yixing so helpless, so at the mercy of something that involved not gunpowder and lead. Granted, you’d never encountered the one thing that made him the weakest.

Zhang Yixing was tranquil and numb in all his hushed ire, a demonic doll with a handsome hard cover and calculative death for stuffing. A man that lived up to the “highly-deceiving” “manipulative” and “vicious” that accompanied his name. 

The moment you met him you’d learned as much. Admittedly, you shouldn’t have ambushed his home without a permit and aimed your weapon at him, yes, but he shouldn’t have just almost dislocated your arm either. 

From then on, you were forced to work close to him and follow his every move, much to your, quite sickening, internal abhorrence of him. Yixing was acute, alright, and knew well you were reporting back everything you caught so he let you hang around, a gimmick he pulled so as to prove to you he wasn’t into the shady business his files said he was. 

And the guy did it right. You couldn’t yet prove how much of his records was certain but only that the “highly deceiving” part was well earned.

Yixing wrought you in a string of lies with darling words and daring gazes, blinded you out of all competence for setting apart right from wrong and good from bad with the upward tilt of his blushing lips. Introduced you to the bitter taste of failure with alcohol in them, but with the saccharine savor of his mouth that made it all feel worth it...

You shut your eyes harsh until you saw things, dark things that stung and weren’t him kissing your neck, anything that wouldn’t drive you close to delusion. 

You opened them again and turned your look back inside, away from the window that had hosted your little reverie. Luna was laughing now, showing her father a doll she mentioned to have borrowed from her friend, before she received a call saying he was waiting outside to pick her up. That was a lie, and someone wanting to hurt Yixing’s greatest treasure had been able to pull it. 

Luna, smarter than to be fooled by a car that wasn’t her father’s, sneaked away before being caught and hid for almost an hour when Yixing frantically called you and virtually demanded you to protect his daughter, which is how you’d ended up in that apartment in the first place.

You still wondered how he’d been able to know what went down and who was it that threatened Luna. Mentally, you took a note on questioning him later, you wouldn’t let him off the hook that easily when you could’ve just gotten a lead to proceed with your investigation.

“Go with Uncle Byun for a minute, alright my love?” Yixing kissed Luna’s forehead before standing up, cleaning off her tears tenderly and brushing back her hair before he looked at you. Oh, you needed to talk too, alright.

“Yes, Papa,” Luna followed the dark haired man who outstretched his hand to her, taking it for a second before letting go. She looked at you timidly before running and hugging your hips again, smiling, “Thank you, pretty lady.” With that she ran back to the man who took her hand cheerfully and let her out in high-spirited conversation. 

Yixing seemed to have regained a little bit of the color of his cheeks as he watched her go and sighed, “I don’t know what I would’ve done if something—”

“Probably execute me first,” you deadpanned, crossing your arms and smiling like you meant it as a joke. Partially you did.

“Probably,” he grinned, walking up to you and claiming your mouth, fixing you in place by the strong hold of your jaw. Yixing, as it’d come to be the usual, tasted of liquorice and alcohol and was rough with his hands but kind with his lips. He was the embodiment of a flower that was delight with all its charms but that hurt when you touched it because it kept its thorns. Only that sometimes Zhang Yixing was all thorns. 

He pulled back flushed and bit his lip. His hair was pushed back and he was smiling some kind of way that was hazardous, that made that dimple that he had appear and drive you giddy.

It wasn’t fair. 

“Thank you,” Yixing rested his head on your shoulder, didn’t quite look at you. His hand grasped yours and, yes, it wasn’t fair, because he knew his way with deceptions and you couldn’t let out a word. “I could never be more at your mercy, if they’d hurt her—”

“Who is ‘they’?” You avoided his fingers tangled with yours and only looked ahead. Forget all kisses and touches, bottom truth was all of it was done for both your purposes and it was only a matter of time to see who accomplished theirs first. And you intended that to be you. 

Yixing stiffened and backed away and inch, smiling, “You don’t expect me to actually tell you, do you? They could hurt you too, and I don’t want to be responsible for it.”

“I won’t blame you, just tell me who they are.”

“You know I didn’t mean it like that, I really don’t want something to happen to you.”

You laughed, retracting your hand from his, “And it won’t. Let’s stop playing pretense for a minute, alright. You know who I am and what I do. You know whatever this between us is is nothing but sweet lies and make-believe. I catch bad people for a living, Yixing, and whoever tries to abduct a six-year-old in plain daylight clearly qualifies as bad. And if you won’t let me catch them, I have all reason to think you’re trying to protect them.”

You knew you might have gone too far. Yixing developed a pallor that sickened you greatly. Of course, you shouldn’t have mentioned that last thing when he’d almost gone insane with his daughter at risk, how stupid of you. But you were mad, alright. You weren’t sure you could handle more of it, of his blasphemous touches and softer-than-feathers kisses, even if they were all but sweet lies. 

No, you didn’t want a liar, and you knew a bad guy when you saw one and Zhang Yixing was unquestionably and irrevocably one. 

He ran a hand through his hair and cursed, looking at you only reluctantly, “To think I liked you.”

“Fuck, Yixing, are we kids? Do you think I’m that stupid to believe you?” You gritted your teeth, maintaining your voice as low as possible and hoping the air wouldn’t carry it to wherever Luna was. 

Yixing sighed, shaking his head ‘no’, and turned to leave. And goddamn him because, somehow, any lie could be better now than to watch him go.  

“I thought I could have you by my side by doing this. I guess you really can’t expect too much from me and I can’t blame you.”

Yixing stopped on the threshold, then—

“It was her mother—Luna’s—when I said ‘they’.” He gave you one last glance. “I hope that was all you needed, officer.”

Zhang Yixing took all the sweet and lies that constituted him when he closed that door, leaving a liquor-bitter scent in your mouth if you closed your eyes and wanted him, if you wondered whether you had been the pretender all along.

 how did you like it 🍭?

[theoddesttea]

The Farseer Trilogy thoughts under the cut

Putting this here because I need to get my thoughts out. I just finished reading the third book and I am. Full of emotions. boy......so much happened in the last few chapters that I don’t know how to process it. Okay. so i’ll just list things as i think of them, i guess.

- my lovely Fool. he was absolutely my favorite character throughout the entire series, i was absolutely infatuated with him. he went through so much near the end but i am just glad he’s okay. and turning golden. and leading a dragon army against red raiders what the fuck

- speaking of red raiders uhhhh i guess they’re gone now! its not like you can really do anything against an army of dragons but damn did that process not last as long as i expected. but i guess that makes sense, seeing as we’re reading through Fitz’s perspective and he didn’t see any of the fighting.

- Fitz. my hermit boy. my trash child who i hate and adore. there have certainly been parts throughout the series when ive just been like “jeeeeeeez stop complaining and just!!! do your destiny shit!!!!” but with this last book ive really come to feel for him and the depths of all the things he has to deal with. like, i was never too much of a fan of the molly romance (just didn’t feel very substantial to me) but to see burrich and molly ending up together was just. oof. like i get that they both thought fitz was dead for like a year, and i totally get it on mollys side, but on burrichs side its like boy??? fitz was like your son. and now you’re screwing his ex. feels weird man.

- but on the topic of things that feel weird, NOTHING will top Verity having sex with Kettricken in Fitz’s body. like, that whole thing was (and is) actually really upsetting to me, and felt way more like a betrayal than the Fool’s “betrayal” did. i understand that it helped verity finish the dragon and gave kettricken a new heir so nettle wouldn’t be sucked into the life but...ugh. it’s just so grossly invasive and disturbing to me. and it didn’t feel like a small thing that immediately afterwards, fitz sleeps with starling, a rape survivor. like they’re both trying to reclaim their bodies.

- starling. ohhhh starling. i have such conflicted feelings toward you. on first impression i loved her, then i started to grow exasperated, and then i hated her. and now i think im okay with her. im positive that this is at least partly because of fitz’s perspective and misunderstanding, it’s really hard for me to look back and try to see things differently without reading it again (ill probably end up reading it again). i appreciate what she did to help everyone in the end. and she gave fitz a kid???? “hey i found this kid u want him lol”. although im sure itwas to give him the companionship he needed in his hermit life. and the kid he never got to have

- “I have never asked her where they live. I have never seen any of the children. In that, I am truly my father’s son.” *sobs*

- “Perhaps, somewhere there is a toymaker who makes puppets that are a delight and a marvel. I hope he wears an earring of silver and blue. The fingerprints he left on my wrist have faded to a dusky gray. I think I will always miss him.” *SOBS*

- we finally got to see patience again. i love her. shes doing so well. i want her to be happy. i wish she knew fitz was alive :(

- kettricken finally has a kid. prince dutiful...I really hope she’s happy now too.

- i assume there’s more to this story? considering there are three more trilogies (although i think only one pertains to the Fool? and therefore Fitz, probably??? pls tell me they see each other again)

- i was thinking whether robin meant for the filling of dragons to be a metaphor for the creative process. for myself, it often feels that way - taking bits and pieces of life and other works and storing them into something that will eventually be greater than all its parts. but it takes something from you in the process. i think this is the way it is meant to be taken - but to be completely honest, the first time the idea came to me i thought of myself as the dragon, greedily taking in everything i can with the hopes to one day truly awaken

- speaking of dragons. forsaw the verity and fool dragon. did NOT forsee every other dragon in the forest awakening holy shit reading the description of an army taking to the air was fucking incredible. I can’t express what i would do to see a movie/tv interpretation of this.

- i was actually thinking of how this book might be adapted the entire time i was reading, cause its cool to think about. especially when it comes to depicting internal things like the wit and skill.

- maaaaaaaaan i know theres way more stuff that happened but i feel like i need to sleep for a week to process this. boy. i haven’t felt this way in a while. fucking kudos, robin hobb.

- ACTUALLY there is one more thing - is Chade witted??? is that what the insinuation was??? because the “rat thing” is the creature planning to kill regal before, and i first i thought it was chade’s weasel, but that doesn’t make sense because fitz would’ve recognized him. also the creature (i cant remember what it was lol) was in pain over its bond dying. but then if thats the case why mention chade and his weasel??? what is the significance??????????

- okay i think im done now. i wanna read the next trilogy immediately but i also wanna let this stew in my head for a bit....something tells me ill be having dreams of dragons in the coming nights

[reader-imagines-blog]

Vows [Part 4] (Jaime Lannister x Stark!Reader)

a/n: hey y'all! here's the fourth part, ahh! im having so much fun writing this story omg. i think i'll probably end it at about 7 parts? possibly more? not sure yet lol. i feel like im moving really slow and i have so mang ideas for this story lol. if y'all have any suggestions for how long i should keep this going, pleasepleaseplease let me know! anyways, enjoy!!! 

PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 5 PART 6 PART 7 PART 8 PART 9

 TAGS: @queen-of-the-north-amina 

WORD COUNT: 1,586 

 *********************************** 

King Robert acted as the catalyst. 

When he was killed in a hunting incident, drunk as his life was ended by a boar, Y/N's life, for lack of a better term, went to absolute shit. 

Her father was arrested for treason. Sansa was captured and Arya was declared missing. The only thing between Y/N and the label of traitor was Jaime. 

When Ser Meryn Trant had come to arrest her, a cruel sneer on his face at the thought of her apprehension, Jaime had made it very clear that Y/N would be staying with him. 

"Y/N is not a Stark, she is a Lannister. She is my wife and the Lady of Casterly Rock and you will not grant a single thought toward her arrest. Are we clear?"

Y/N had been confused that Jaime had not let him take her, as she had barely spoken a word to him in a month. Jaime had take her chin in-between his thumb and forefinger, forcing her to look at him. 

"I vowed to protect you. You are not a vow I intend to break, Y/N." 

The Lion of House Lannister and the Flower of House Stark consummated their coupling that night after three months of marriage. Y/N's heart had warmed as she opened it to Jaime yet again. 

After Ned's arrest, news reached King's Landing that Robb had rallied the North's bannermen and had declared against the Lannisters. House Stark was therefore in open rebellion against the crown. Robb demanded his sisters back. All three. 

Certain news had also reached Y/N, after months of revolting rumors she refused to believe; suddenly, Y/N was delighted at the thought of returning home to her twin. 

It may have been sheer naivety that brought Y/N to confront Jaime. Or, perhaps it was the blind rage she had been thrown into after Cersei had smirked and called Jaime 'Joffrey's father'. 

As a twin herself, Y/N had promptly emptied her stomach at the mere thought of Jaime in bed with his own.

"Tell me that it's not true." Y/N had said. Her voice was steel while her heart tore itself to shreds within her chest. "Jaime. Please, in the name of the Seven, tell me that it's not true. Tell me that they aren't yours." 

Jaime hadn't tried to play the fool. He had only brought his eyes up to meet Y/N's, silently confirming her suspicions. 

“Oh, gods.”

Tears had gathered in her eyes and they ran silently. Y/N didn't say another word. She had regarded him coldly and exited their chambers, presumably to visit her Lord father. 

And although her exterior had been cold like the North in her veins, when Y/N climbed stiffly into bed that night, Jaime knew he had broken her heart when she whispered into the dark: "You lied." 

Soon after Robb's declaration of war, Jaime was called upon by Tywin. He had been vehemently against Y/N accompanying him, but after seeing the tension of King's Landing and the unadulterated loathing of Cersei's gaze every time it landed on Y/N, he had her handmaidens pack her things and had practically dragged her along with him. Marital problems or not, he would not leave her to be mauled by Cersei. 

When Y/N awoke one night in the Lannister camp to Jaime hurriedly donning his armor, firmly telling her to remain in the tent and that he'd come back for her, she was calm. 

As intensely as she loathed herself for it, Y/N cared for her husband. Although she had opened her heart to him only to have it ripped from her chest by his twin of all possible mistresses, Jaime held a place in her. 

But Y/N was of the North. Robb was her brother. And he was there to take her home. Y/N dressed herself, took her sword from the bottom of her trunk where she had hidden it from Jaime, and left the tent. Marriage or not, love or not, Y/N fought for House Stark. 

Two thousand Northmen died that night, all for the sake of Jaime's capture. Y/N watched over Robb's shoulder as Jaime was dragged away while she stood and reveled in her twin's embrace. She could not bring herself to meet Jaime's eyes. 

The raven informing the Starks of Ned's execution arrived the very next morning.

========================= 

"You are no knight. You have forsaken every vow you ever took." 

Catelyn Stark regarded the Kingslayer where he sat in his makeshift cell, her eldest daughter at the forefront of Jaime's mind. 

Y/N was somewhere in the Stark camp where they currently resided, in a tent with her twin, helping him to plan his next move against the Lannister army. Her army, technically. But Jaime could not bring himself to feel betrayed by his wife.

Circumstances were circumstances, family was family, and Jaime Lannister understood that better than anyone. 

Brienne of Tarth stared down her nose at the Lion. He was smaller up close. Not in stature, as he stood over six feet, but in general. The stories made Jaime Lannister the Kingslayer sound like a creature, a monster, some terrifying yet glorious, ethereal being. But the man in front of Brienne was human. A vile human, but a human nonetheless. 

Jaime spoke, his eyes never leaving Lady Catelyns. "So many vows. They make you swear and swear and for what?" 

Jaime's mind whispered, answering his own question. For honor. For safety. For family. For Y/N. For things you could never hope to deserve.

"Obey your father, obey the king, be loyal to the king, protect the innocent, defend the weak. But what if your father despises the king? What if the king massacres the innocent? It's too much." 

Catelyn features didn't do well to hide her disgust. The Tully's along with the Starks and all of the North practiced honor. They lived with honor, they fought with honor. Jaime Lannister was unassociated with the word. 

"And anyways, I haven't forsaken the vow I made to your daughter, now have I?"

Catelyn tensed as the mention of Y/N fell from his lips. 

"Don't you dare bring her into this. Those men out there want your head and I have half of a mind to bring it to them." 

Jaime ignored her threat, continuing on about his wife. "Why should I leave Y/N out of this? She is the Lady Lannister now. 'From this day until my last day', we said. It was quite beautiful. I'm sorry you had to miss it." 

Brienne stepped forward to defend her new ladyship. "And your last day is coming, Lannister." 

Jaime just held his smirk in place, although he wasn't sure it was visible though the layers of grime on his skin. 

"Do tell my darling wife to come visit me. She is the only person in this camp who keeps me company and I miss her dearly." 

Y/N had visited Jaime a handful of times since his capture. Her visits were always filled with off-handed spite and vague anger, but Jaime enjoyed her visits. They were progress in his eyes and Jaime gained more and more hope for their future every time Y/N granted him a smile. 

"Anyways, where did you find that she-beast?" 

Catelyn narrowed her eyes. 

"Brienne is a truer knight than you will ever be, Kingslayer." 

Jaime rolled his own eyes, his face not betraying the twinge of hurt that gripped his heart whenever someone called him Kingslayer to his face. 

"Kingslayer," Jaime scoffed. "What a king he was. Here's to Aerys Targaryen, Second of his name, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the realm." Jaime's smirk made it's way back onto his face. "Holder of the sword I shoved through his back." 

Catelyn's expression remained passive, as did Brienne's. Their faces did nothing to give way to the disgust they felt, nor the quiet agreement. Aerys had been a mad-man, intent on letting Westeros burn before giving up the throne. But, no matter how vile he had been, the Kingslayer had still broken his vow to protect the King with his life.

"You are a man without honor." 

Jaime was quiet for a moment.

"You know, I had never been with any woman but Cersei until I married Y/N. I hadn't been with Cersei in years, almost five, when we came to Winterfell. Even then, five years with nothing, I let the poor young thing wait until she was comfortable enough to let me between her legs." 

Jaime wished the words would stop coming, stop pouring from his mouth. He was dishonoring his wife with every word. He wished his entire force of being that he would stop, but he kept going. The ease with which Jaime said these things told him that this had been his façade for far too long. That he had been on Cersei’s leash for far too long.

"So, in my own way, I have more honor than poor old dead Ned. What's the name of the bastard that he fathered? Snow?" 

Jaime saw the way Catelyn tensed and knew that he had found a sore spot. "You hated that boy, didn't you? A constant reminder that the honorable Lord Eddard Stark fucked another woman." 

Catelyn demanded Brienne hand over her sword, and the knight hesitantly obeyed. 

Lady Stark brought the sword to Jaime's neck, eyes narrowed. She held it there, the cool metal pressing against Jaime's skin in silent threat before she lowered it. 

"If Y/N weren't with your child, I'd have your head, Kingslayer." 

Jaime's mask crumbled, his eyes widening. He strained against his chains as though Y/N were right in front of him 

"Y/N is with child?" 

Catelyn nodded, she and Brienne preparing to leave the cell. 

"A child that hopefully never has the displeasure of meeting its father."