#it's just very fun no matter how you slice it

[ramblinscramblin]

I got one more ask. Sorry for spamming your inbox ^^’

The mercs with a s/o who has an eight year old daugther from a previous relationship. The daugther is very outdoorsy and creative.

If not all the mercs then maybe Sniper, Engineer and Soldier? :)

→Mercs with Reader who has a Daughter!

Genre: fluff, slice of life

Characters: Sniper, Engie, Soldier

No worries I really appreciate the requests! This is such a cute idea!

Sniper

Sniper is probably not really the best with kids, feels like he doesn’t know what to say or do.

But once he realizes she likes the outdoors?? Well there he goes, teaching her how to start a fire with a rubber band, a stick and lock of your own hair.

Enjoys teaching her stuff, and she really enjoys learning from him.

(She probably thinks he is so cool! A real life wild life expert!)

Brings her any of the animals he catches outside for her to look at before releasing them.

“Babe! Get that thing out of here!” You exclaimed frantically as Sniper stands in the door way with an opossum writhing in his hand.

“Relax, it’s for baby ‘roo she said she wanted to see one,” Sniper responded casually, leaning down to show your starry eyed daughter the creature up close.

“Can we keep him?” She pleaded looking up at you with big wet eyes.

You shot a nasty glare back at Sniper, who knew he was in big trouble, but it wasn’t so bad if he made his girl happy.

They really bond over camping, and you guys go on camping retreats regularly. You’re daughter adores the van so much, likes sharing the tiny bed with the two of you.

Engie

Engie finds bonding with your daughter to be top priority.

He’s a family man so he’s going to do whatever he has to do to connect with her, even if that means letting her put stickers all over his sentries.

He thought it would bother him the way all the mercs make fun of all the little drawings left in his tool box, but he honestly doesn’t care at all. In fact he loves it.

He’s got the best little family ever, he literally won.

She was painting on the teleporter one day when you said “are you sure that it’s okay she does that?”

“What? Make my machines look beautiful? S’more than just okay, sugar,” he said. She looked up at him with a big warm grin. You can’t really argue with that.

Stepping up as a father, let’s be real he would make a fantastic dad. He’s there through everything with the two of you. Wants to be a genuine good influence on her.

Solider

Loves this little girl to the moon and back, oh my god.

I imagine he’s always wanted kids, so you coming into his life with your little ray of sunshine was more than divine intervention.

Spoils her rotten, gives her literally anything and everything she ever asks for.

“Can I have that cookie?” She asked, pointing at soldiers plate.

“Oh! Honey that’s not yours—“ you were quickly interrupted

“—right it’s mine! And I say she can have it,” he declared matter-a-factly handing the sweet over to her tiny hands. She was so ecstatic.

You wanted to scold him about sugar rushes, but he looked so proud you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. He’s the one who had to deal with a hyper eight year old not you.

She loves to decorate his helmet and he loves taking it into battle.

100% wears a locket with a picture of both of you in it, he’s so sentimental I’m ill.

Definitely cried the first time she referred to him as dad.

[pebbledrat]

if they like the show then I get to be like. Yeah so that was actually part two of six of a whole separate thing. If you want to follow Marjolein's story for a while more, let me explain a little more about posties and the David/Raven situation and set you up with the posthuman war. If you want to know more about this whole weird wild world we can talk about setting you up with the steampunk opera or maybe the new albion radio hour

Just!! I don't think there's a right way to get into shaperaverse! I think most of the trilogies work best when kept together and it can be helpful to listen to things in the order they came out but it's so much fun to climb around and explore whatever catches your interest! The story is already partially non-chronological, so you only are setting yourself up to discover wonderful easter eggs later on!! I do think it can be helpful to have someone to field questions about where to go next, but so much of the fun is trying to make sense of it all and draw connections!

whenever people are like. How do I get into shaperaverse, what even is this? most people would pull out a whiteboard and start drawing flowcharts. not me.

I grab them by the lapels and lean in very close and tell them. Hey. there's this story called Caravan that keeps me up at night. I'm going to link you the album (yes it's in the format of a series of songs. you will thank me.)

[inkskinned]

the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.

three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.

two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.

their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.

one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.

i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.

i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.

and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?

you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.

a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.

someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.

[talaok]

Give up

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Summary: Once again you've found an excuse to invite your neighbor over, except for once you might be able to make him look past your age difference and have a little fun.

Warnings: big ass unspecified age gap, Jackson!Joel is a softie and he's nervous and he's not so very sure about this bc of how old he is + he's out of practice. smut| oral (m and f receiving) and swallowing you know what. sub!Joel vibez all around

This wasn't anything new.

The fact that he was coming over wasn't at all surprising to either of you.

You always found a way to be around him, and no matter how he ignored your every attempt at flirting- he never said no.

It had taken all of two minutes.

You'd knocked on his door, your best little skirt and tight little top on, and faked a pout as you told him:

"There's something wrong with the shower again Mr. Miller"

To his defense, Joel really tried not to stare at your ass as you walked right in front of him to guide him to your house, but that fucking skirt seemed more of a joke than anything.

You both knew there was nothing wrong with your shower, the switch that granted the hot water had just mysteriously turned itself off once again.

This had been going on for months now, since he first arrived in Jackson... since you knocked at his door that one chilly morning to introduce yourself to your new neighbor-

All it took was one look, and you were hooked.

He was gonna be yours.

"there- 's hot" he nodded, shutting the water off once he'd made sure it worked properly again, before drying his hands on his pants.

"thank you so much Joel" you smiled wider than necessary "What can I do to thank you?"

And no, you didn't even try to make your words not sound dirty, quite the opposite actually.

He cleared his throat, his eyes breaking from yours in a nervous shift.

You always did that- had this annoying effect on him.

"'s nothing darlin'" he shook his head, "didn't even take five minutes"

"Still- I feel like I owe you," you said, biting down a smirk

Shitshitshit

"How 'bout some cake?" you suggested just as he was about to have a stroke.

"sounds good"

__ __ __

"'s real good darlin'"

"thank you" you smiled happily, watching him clear his plate in under a minute

Yeah... you were a great baker, what can I say

"you want another slice?"

"You spoil me sugar," he laughed, patting his belly "I can't"

"alright" You couldn't help but softly laugh as you placed his plate in the sink.

You caught him looking away just as you turned around, which made you smile to yourself, a smile that only widened when you noticed the chocolate on the corner of his mouth.

"Oh Joel"

"Mh?"

You sat beside him at the table, your legs brushing against one another as you leaned closer.

"You've got something... right here"

You swiped the chocolate off with your pointer finger, making a show of popping it into your mouth to clean it.

His eyes remained transfixed on you as your tongue licked your digit clean until you were finally done with a loud pop.

"Jesus"

"What?" you smirked, knowing exactly what  "that gave you some ideas?"

"babygirl-" he stopped you immediately, shaking his head

"Oh c'mon Joel" you pouted, your hand going to rest on his forearm "What's a girl gotta do to get you to give up?"

He blinked, looking at you intently and nervously altogether.

"Why do ya even care about an old man like me sweetie?"

You couldn't help but laugh "Have you ever looked in a mirror, Joel?"

You swore you saw pink flood his cheeks- the man was blushing.

"Plus you're kind... and funny when you want to.... and you make me feel-" you bit your lip, trying to find the right word "safe... you make me feel safe"

He scratched his beard, but you couldn't help but notice he hadn't used the arm your hand was still on.

"'m sure there's boys here that are funnier and kinder and make you feel even safer babygirl" he spoke gently "Pretty sure most of them are prayin' you give 'em a chance actually"

You hummed, raising a brow

"but what if I don't want them?"

"You want an old man instead?" he huffed out a self-deprecating laugh.

You rolled your eyes "How old even are you?"

"old enough to be your father darlin'"

God, maybe there was something wrong with you, but those words only made your need for him burn harder.

"so?"

"so I ain't even supposed to look your way babygirl- it ain't right"

"But why?" you pouted "Shouldn't I get to have a say in what's right and wrong for me?"

He sighed, not really knowing what to answer to that.

"What if I don't care?" you spoke softly, your pointer finger on his chest, circling his pec "What if I like you, Joel? what if I wanted to show you just how much right now?"

"sweetheart" he started, shaking his head

"You'd stop me?"

And there it was, the pause... your way in.

"Joel?" you called for him, your voice sickly sweet "Would you?"

He couldn't do anything but tell the truth when you were looking at him like that.

"I don't think any man in his right mind could or would ever stop you darlin'"

Satisfaction took over your whole body.

"no?" you teased, grinning like a cat "Not even if he's old enough to be my father?"

He sighed, what looked like resignation in his eyes.

"I'm just a man sweetheart"

And that- that got him the biggest smirk ever known to man.

There was no sound, it was like the word got quiet as you stood up, placed your hands on his thighs, and slowly kneeled between his legs.

He didn't know what to do, he was genuinely frozen, torn between guilt and attraction, the need to let go, to finally do this- that his brain was short-circuiting.

You took advantage of his silence, making quick work of his zipper, and pulling down his boxers just enough to free his cock...

All your speculations got proven right there- he was huge.

"oh wow," you bit down a grin as you watched your fingers struggle to wrap around his whole base.

You gave him a tentative squeeze, and the strained groan rumbling from his chest was just about the hottest thing you'd ever heard.

"y-you- f-fuck"

You stopped him before he could start protesting, your tongue sliding slowly on his tip before leaving a little kiss right on top.

"You're so big" you hummed, your tongue licking him up from base to head, feeling every vein and twitch of his member.

He was looking down at you just as you looked at him, and he seemed... mesmerized, like he couldn't believe this was really happening, that this wasn't another one of the dreams he'd get about you at night, and that it was really your lips wrapping around him.

Goddamnit

You had barely a little more than his tip in your mouth and he was already gone- and I mean gone gone.

He couldn't even remember why he'd spent so long ignoring your not-so-subtle hints-

Just a minute ago he wanted to tell you that no, you don't gotta do that, and ask you sure about this? - But now... now all he could do was throw his head back as he realized that his lack of practice these past few years had really gotten to him, and that he already had to grab at the chair beneath him with all his strength as he tried not to come embarrassingly fast.

You hummed around his cock, and he couldn't stop his hips from thrusting upwards, a small choking sound fleeing your throat.

"goddamnit, 'm sorry baby-"

But the moment he looked down at you, he saw everything but anger... you seemed happy- you were begging him to do it again with your eyes.

But he couldn't, and part of you already knew that.

He shook his head slowly, still trying to think as straight as he could given the situation, but while he was busy with that... you settled for the next best thing... you forced his manhood down your throat all on your own.

The groan he let out was damn near feral.

You couldn't actually get all of it down there, it was the biggest dick you'd ever seen in your life after all, but you swore that with a little bit of practice (that he'd hopefully grant you), you'd get there.

Still, he didn't really seem bothered or in any way disappointed by your inability.

It was an indescribable feeling seeing this tough, rugged man shiver with pleasure before you, his eyes shut and knuckles white with the effort of gripping onto something.

"I- fuck"

He didn't even know what he wanted to say, he just... it felt so fucking good

Your head was back on bobbing up and down his length, and what used to be groans had turned to moans coming out of his mouth.

"Y-you've gotta-" he swallowed, his sentence interrupted by the feeling of your fingers playing with his balls.

"Y-you've got t-" to stop

But you were choking on his girth again

"I-'m gonna-" come

You watched him struggle with his words, his breathing, and his self-control with what would have been a huge smirk on your face if your mouth hadn't been so preoccupied.

You knew he was about to come already, it really wasn't hard to understand,

You also knew that if you stopped now there was a chance you'd get to do more later- but really, this was something too perfect to leave halfway done, and besides... you feared that if you went with your initial plan of straddling his lap and riding the man to heaven, you'd leave him traumatized.

So you didn't stop, you kept massaging his balls as you worked his dick in and out your mouth, ever so often forcing him as deep as you could and choking while drool and saliva dripped down your chin.

"J-Jesus, sweetheart- I-"

All his words came out in rugged breaths, barely coherent- his eyes were back on you, shadows of lust and need darkening his iris as his right hand went to your cheek, a gesture almost too sweet considering what you were doing.

"F-fuck"

And that was it.

He groaned so loud you probably could hear him from outside the house as he reached his climax, rope after rope of his come filling your mouth and throat.

Joel Miller had come in your mouth... and it couldn't have been any more perfect.

You didn't take your eyes off him for one second. You greedily swallowed all his spent as he breathed heavily, eyes still closed.

His dick was softening in your hand as you pulled his boxers back on top of it, a little wave of disappointment washing over your gut.

It's ok, I'll see it again soon

Just as you were plotting exactly how you were gonna get in his pants in the future, his voice startled you

"I-I don't know what to say"

A soft smile pulled at your lips

"You don't have to say anything" you reassured him as you sat back on your chair, your eyes inevitably falling back to where his boxers peeked from the unfasted fly.

"now- I won't keep you hostage any longer, 'm sure you have important stuff to do back at your house"

The frowns on his forehead deepened as his eyebrows came together in confusion.

"What?"

Now you were confused.

"I'm just saying- thank you for... this" You bit down a smile "You know how long I've been wanting it- and you can bet your ass we're doing it and more, again and again, and again" his eyes widened an almost imperceptible amount and you had to stifle a laugh "but... I'm letting you free for tonight"

He took his time to say something.

Silence wrapped around you for a good minute before he was able to mumble something.

"sweetheart-" he cleared his throat to try and clear his thoughts "I-I dunno how you're used to... bein' treated, but this ain't over"

A spark of excitement ignited in your belly

He couldn't mean...

"unless you want it to be, of course"

Oh my

"I definitely don't want it to be" you hastily spoke, almost breathless "but I would like to know what you... mean"

I mean, not to be prejudiced, but you very much doubted he could get it up again so quickly given his... well, age.

He cleared his throat again and you finally realized it was just a nervous tic and he didn't actually feel the need to.

"You should be on a bed" he avoided your question

You couldn't help but smile as you got up

"Such a gentleman"

"that's the last word that comes to mind right now" was all he grumbled

__ __ __

"sit"

that's all he said, and now there you were, sitting on your bed as he looked at you with a mix of lust and uncertainty.

Until he finally did it- he crouched between your legs.

He cleared his throat again, and you felt on the urge of cumbusting.

he was gonna eat you out

You'd only ever done this once, and even then you had to basically beg the guy, just for him to be god-awful at it.

Somehow you had a feeling Joel wasn't gonna be bad at all.

"You sure about this, yeah?"

You fought the urge to roll your eyes.

He could probably ask you to put it up your ass and you'd say yes.

"Yes Joel, I'm 100% positive"

He gave you a little nod, and his hands- his big, strong hands- went to your thighs.

You watched him as if he'd disappear at any moment as he slowly- oh so very slowly- took your skirt off.

He swallowed tightly as his eyes fell on your clothed cunt.

If you didn't know any better you would have guessed he was holding his breath as he got rid of your panties.

"Jesus Christ"

I shouldn't be doing this- I really shouldn't be fucking doing this.

She's not even half my age- she's a kid for god's sake- I'm fucking disgustin-

Every single thought in his mind turned to dust the moment you spread your legs- the moment your wet, drenched, pussy came fully into view.

"Y-you-"

he didn't even remember what he wanted to say- and he didn't remember when his thumb had decided to find your folds, but it had.

He heard a whimper leave your mouth and he felt his cock twitch in his pants, hardening again.

It usually took him a whole fucking hour to get hard again

He looked up at you, and you looked hotter than ever before.

Your cheeks were flushed, your bottom lip was between your teeth, and you looked so... perfect.

"I haven't done this in a- while"

As he spoke those words he hoped you'd think he only meant this... as if you'd actually care about how he hadn't gotten laid in years.

"'s ok Joel" you nodded, smiling encouragingly.

He swallowed again, his gaze slowly lowering.

He couldn't believe you were this wet for him- a pretty thing like you.

His thumb moved, gently sliding up and up and up, until he found your clit, earning another little moan.

Fuck

He circled the little bud, and your cries got a little higher and he swore- he swore going to hell was worth it, worth this.

He had to taste you- fuck, he'd been dreaming about the taste of you since he first saw you- So with all the carefulness in the word, he bent down, his lips finding your soft thighs.

He could see your belly inflate and deflate with your exited breaths as he kissed his way closer and closer to your heat, until he was right there, and he couldn't help but leave a kiss on your mound, on the hair covering it so very nicely.

"Joel-" your voice was strangled "please"

If it had been twenty years ago he would have said something cocky like "'s ok baby, it's coming", his whole demeanor would have been very different too. He used to be in charge in the bedroom, always- he used to feel smug and sure of himself, but now... now he was old and out of practice, and he was... he was nervous.

But all it took was to look up at you, at those beautiful pleading eyes, to find the courage.

You wanted this. You wanted him.

And you tasted better than he could have ever fucking imagined.

A deep, feral groan rumbled in his chest as his tongue passed between your folds, as he gathered all your slickness on his taste buds, all that sweet sweet juice that felt like fucking heaven.

Yeah, now I remember why I used to love this so much

You were moaning like a desperate little thing above him, your thighs squeezing his face as your feet clung to his torso.

And he was gripping the outside of your legs, keeping you as close to him as humanly possible, his face as deep in your core as it would go.

His nose was rubbing against your clit in a way that made you see stars, and he was still lapping, not focusing on anywhere in particular, just aimlessly and desperately feeding off of you.

"Oh my god Joel-" you gasped as two of his fingers found their way inside of you.

His movements were slow, he didn't wanna hurt you, and he wanted to find what made you feel good, which is why he kept exploring until his digits curled up into that sweet cushy part of you, and he felt you squeeze him as you threw your head back.

"f-fuck!"

Your left hand had traveled to his locks, gripping them tightly as your hips frantically moved against his face to try and seek more.

His mouth was focusing only on your clit now, thoroughly sucking on it- and just when you thought this couldn't get any better, that this was the most pleasure you'd ever experienced and there was no way he would be able to top this- another one of his big, thick fingers pushed into you.

The cry you let out was something Joel would be thinking of until he was six feet under.

Three of his fingers were so much more than what you were used to.

"J-Joel" you whimpered actual tears staining your vision as you looked down at him "Oh my fucking g-god Joel"

Your gut had been right. He was really fucking good at this

He was watching you, studying every little face you made as the squelching of his fingers moving inside of you filled the room together with your moans.

"I-I'm coming"

You could barely finish the sentence that the world went bright, and the purest pleasure you'd ever felt erupted in your body with a million different blasts.

For a whole minute, you were in another universe- and Joel eagerly enjoyed the show, not stopping his movements for even a fraction of a second.

You feared the moment you opened your eyes you'd wake up in your bed after yet another dream about this man- and yet he was still here, looking up at you with only adoration in his eyes.

He couldn't help but steal another little kiss on your core before he leaned away.

"well... wow" you smiled like an idiot, your breathing still a little labored "You know what you're doing Mr. Miller"

He didn't say anything, but you saw pink flush his cheeks again as he let your legs go, robbing you of his touch.

You would have been disappointed if it wasn't for the fact he was very clearly having trouble not having his gaze fall down to your heat.

You smiled to yourself as you accepted the skirt he quietly handed you.

Seeing you standing before him with it on when he knew you were bare and wet underneath made Joel's brain freeze for a moment, but that was of course, until you stood on your tiptoes, and placed a kiss on his cheek.

"thank you for this Joel"

Your voice was so sweet it sounded angelic to his ears- but the sweetness was replaced by something very different very quickly.

As you stood back down to your normal height, your body, being flushed against Joel's, came in contact with something that very much piqued your interest.

he was hard- very fucking hard

"no babygirl"

he was already shaking his head, crushing all your dreams

"but-"

"I can't" his tone was firm, although you could still hear restraint behind his words, like it was costing him a lot to say no.

"It feels to me like you very much can" you rebutted, smirking softly.

"I- it ain't right"

Oh my god

It took a lot not to roll your eyes "I thought we were past that whole thing" you said, cocking an eyebrow "Do I need to remind you what you were doing just a minute ago?"

"that's different"

"How?"

"it just is"

"what if I beg you Joel?" you purred, your best doe eyes looking up at him "What if I told you about how much I'd like to feel your cock inside of me? How desperate I am for it, Joel- how much I need it"

He was gonna go home and punch himself in the face for what he was about to say.

But it was true, he couldn't. It wasn't right- he needed... to think about it at least

"darlin'" he spoke softly "I can't... not right now"

there it is

The smirk that pulled at your lips was the most mischievous thing in the world.

"right now" you repeated his words, biting your lip as you played with the hem of his flannel "I can live with that- but Joel...don't even think this is over"

[penkura]

do you remember punk hazard when sanji gets trapped in Nami's body? Can you imagine if Sanji enters the body of Reader, Zoro's girlfriend? Zoro all jealous and protective of his girlfriend, how fun that would be and when zoro catches sanji/nami and brook is oh so romantic, zoro just protects my girlfriend's body

Yes I do remember this and I loved that part! Swapping Nami with Zoro's girlfriend is such a fun idea too!

“This is so stupid.”

It really is, while you hold onto Zoro’s arm though not in your own body, in Nami’s instead. None of you seem to know what happened, why you’re in each other’s bodies, and it’s the biggest thing concerning Zoro right now.

Well, maybe not concerning, instead pissing him off for the fact that Sanji is in your body. Why it turned out that way, however this happened, it doesn’t matter anymore once your group lists off who is who now. Nami is Franky, Chopper is Sanji, Franky is Chopper Sanji is you, and you’re Nami. It’s weird, it’s insane, and Zoro wants to slice up whoever did this when he hears Sanji’s voice from your body.

When Sanji and Brook start to head off to find the Samurai you all brought from the lab, you beg Zoro to go with them to make sure nothing happens to your body. You offer to do his chores, bring him drinks, anything he wants if he’ll go for you, to which he just rolls his eye.

“You don’t have to beg, I’ll go. Only because it’s you.”

You almost cry, hugging Zoro tight to thank him. You do trust Sanji to not do anything weird, but you also know battles are inevitable here, you’d rather not be put back in your body and be injured.

“You’re the best, thank you so much.”

Though you lean up to kiss him, Zoro stops you by pushing you away just a bit, making you pout.

“Not while you’re in Nami’s body.”

“But it’s me…I won’t be mad later!”

“Just…” Zoro sighs, shaking his head, “Rather not make her mad, even if you explained it to Nami later.”

“…okay yeah, fair enough.”

~~

Brook listens to Zoro and Sanji—still in your body—argue as they search for the Samurai head now attached to his legs. It’s very odd to see this, you and Zoro never fight like this, not in public at least, but even then he’s never heard you two calling names or yelling. He knows it’s Sanji in there right now, but it’s just so weird.

Its only out of instinct that, when Sanji takes a bad step and nearly falls, Zoro reaches out and stops him, grabbing your arm to keep your body from hitting the ground.

“Yohoho,” Brook laughs seeing how quickly Zoro stopped to keep your body from being injured, “How romantic!”

“Augh, no!” Giving a glare, Zoro doesn’t let your arm go but pulls your body to your feet, making Sanji scowl at him (it’s not right to see that look on your face), “I only did that because he’s in [Y/N]’s body!”

“And if I wasn’t you would’ve let me fall?!”

“Of course it is! I’m only here because she wants me to protect her body, not you!”

While Sanji starts calling Zoro names like normal, he is glad to know that at least your relationship is stable. Sometimes it feels to Sanji like you do more for Zoro than he does for you, but perhaps it’s different in private.

“I can’t wait to kick your ass once you’re back in your body.”

“Yeah well same here, mosshead.”

Thankfully Zoro didn’t see you’d been switched into Sanji’s body after Law fixed those he could, you’re sure it would’ve led to much, much worse fighting between the two if he knew.

[year2000electronics]

Bill & Ford & A Book, Oh My!

DISCLAIMER: The Book of Bill has Bill Cipher serving as an unreliable narrator. If we go out trying to say something is "definitively a truth" or "definitively a lie", we're going to keep arguing about it until the heat death of the universe. This is just my own personal interpretation of the source material. If you don't agree, that's fine! Also TBOB spoilers abound.

So it's no secret that interest in the dynamic Bill & Ford have (enemies, platonic, romantic, formerly romantic, whichever way) has really skyrocketed since TBOB's release. Of course, there are the 'easy' culprits to point towards, with Mabel referring to Bill as 'being like a needy ex', and the whole O'Sadley's fiasco (Him literally crying over losing Ford and going "one Sixer, please"? Messy. Messy behavior. Still, I think it goes so much deeper than that.

Bill, being the unpredictable chaos entity that he is, also serves as the main antagonist for a show about family and having close bonds with each other. We don't really need to look into his inner psyche that much, because that's just not what he needed to be doing at that point in the cartoon. He's meant to be a way to divide the Pines, really. And a silly little guy. A silly little obstacle. So, naturally, when it came to Bill's arguably "closest" relationship to someone in the show (Ford), it was very easy to interpret it as Ford being tricked by a completely apathetic Bill, who was just using him as a rung on the ladder. And I do want to stress that Ford and Bill's physical actions remain fairly consistent throughout interpretations, and focusing on the fact that Bill badly hurt Ford is important, so if that's how you still see it, then fine by me! No harm no foul!

But I think the relationship, their story, their tragedy just becomes so much more interesting with the lens The Book of Bill has presented. We’re finally able to see Bill’s perspective as a “protagonist” of sorts in a medium where he’s not just something to defeat- and that’s something we’ve never gotten before, so it’s shedding light on an area we didn’t know about for sure! Again, Bill is lying to the character of "the reader", so we can't trust it as a completely unbiased source. But we can speculate on where the "truth" is between these lies.

First of all, Bill's backstory was that he destroyed his home dimension- we knew that already. But now, with the extra content we have about it, we see something interesting- that Bill's backstory mirrors Ford's to an uncanny degree.

Both of them champion their intelligence, although they highlight how it set them apart from others, as well as highlighting their own 'rare mutation/birth defect'.

Again, with this self-isolation already spurred on from their "weirdness", but also as a little aside, I would also like to highlight that Bill being 'ready to be one', looking up at the stars, striving to 'reach' them, is a shared motif he has with Ford, who is also associated with space, the stars, and reaching them.

Bill's 'trying-really-quick-to-convince-Ford' fantasy sequence even has him in a field of stars as a sort of "ultimate wish fulfilment". Remember, this is Bill showing Ford something he thinks would win Ford over, at least a little.

(And I'll take a quick time out for this train of thought to point out- hey! Bill admits he sought out most of his other victims, but Ford summoned him, and it took him by surprise! That adds a fun little layer of complexity to everything, don't you think? Another little layer of humanity for this whole mess- Bill didn't expertly seek out the 'perfect victim' or anything, it was just... luck. Some twist of fate.)

Anyways.

Obviously, the intro page to the 'Sixer' section has a ton of red flags galore (I mean, poor guy's literally depicted as a hapless puppet. C'mon, Bill. Not to mention the "OH BOY HE'S ALREADY SO ISOLATED, IT'S PERFECT" thing.). This guy is kind of a terrible companion no matter how you slice it. He's terrible to everyone close to him, because he's a deeply traumatized character who refuses to heal. BUT, the wording here is kinda deliciously intriguing to me. All of humanity is Bill's puppets, his future victims, but to me, it's clear that he holds a fondness for Ford. From "This is what a partner looks like", to "Me and Sixer could be the perfect team", to "He had what I always wanted- fingers" (drawn to his strangeness, maybe?), "He was destined for so much more", "I looked at his futures and giggled", and most stand-out to me, "Society calls these people freaks, I call them Henchmaniacs!"

Going back to the pre-Book of Bill era I was talking about, Bill's offers for Ford to join him were always in a sort of murky territory for interpretation. The first offer could definitely be read as mocking, with the line "WITH THAT SIX-FINGERED HAND, YOU'D FIT RIGHT IN WITH MY FREAKS!" in particular making it seem like Bill was only saying that to rub Ford's strangeness in his face, and the second offer to join Bill being under a new circumstance- that now Bill is desperate and believes Ford is the only one who can help him. But the Book of Bill mentions the idea of Ford becoming a Henchmaniac more than once, and also has Bill upset at losing Ford and claiming "he'll be back", as well as Bill seeming to use "freak" more like a badge of honour, and having previously complimented Ford's six fingers (In the Sixer intro page, he highlights Ford's fingers as a quality he likes, and in the pages about bodies, he states that "humans should have more fingers". To me, that first offer reads more now like Bill being genuine about finding Ford a place among his misfits. ...Although, the moment Ford says no, he does zap him into a statue. So. Y'know. He's still got issues.

(Yeah, again, red flag city. "Just hazing"? Bill, none of what you were doing over there was okay! You might have suppressed everything traumatic that happened to you, but that doesn't mean you can go around traumatizing everyone! Good lord.)

Bill has already been imply to like other characters because they remind him of himself. Pointing towards a connection with a character Bill DOESN'T have a weird undefinable ex-partner thing with... Mabel! Alex has says in multiple official media and interviews that Bill sees a lot of himself in Mabel, and essentially, that he thought Mabeland was the perfect prison because if HE liked all that awesome, uncontrolled chaos over any family or friends, why wouldn't SHE? And we see that again in TBOB. So basically, what I'm saying is that we have two characters to back up the fact that Bill seems gravitated towards humans or other living beings that he views as being 'like him'- beings he can relate to! So, y'know, what does that say about Bill and Ford?

There's also Bill's plans for the reader and "Weirdmageddon 2.0", where he portrays the reader as getting to, like, perch on his arm like a little bird and get their own little crown? And specifically calls out Ford for not going through with things?? Okay, Bill??

AND Ford not only being the only human mentioned on the list of people he "definitely doesn't miss so stop asking", but also having his own category? Alright, man.

Of course, another point to the 'Hey, maybe Bill can actually feel emotions towards humans besides complete and total apathy' club is this page here, which has ALSO been hotly debated! Certainly, we know he's telling the truth about his home dimension being destroyed, and we know that he's lying about the 'monster', but some interpret this scene as Bill not being remorseful at all and playing his reaction up to earn Ford's sympathy. And me, personally, I dunno if I agree. I feel like the specific inclusion of Bill "looking distant, more distant than I'd ever seen him" (Mirroring the fact that he keeps blacking out when thinking about all his large-scale massacres) and him "laughing joylessly", I think this sequence is meant to tell us that Bill actually is being vulnerable with Ford here, it's just hidden under layers and layers of deceit, whether towards himself or Ford or both.

And finally for my Book of Bill collection stuff, there's the stuff that could be read as more romantic in nature. In the 'love' section, Bill claims he doesn't love anyone, but, like-

Come on. You can disagree with me that it's Ford, but he does have exes. And he's clearly not over them. Shrimpy little liar. And then there's the fact that a lot of his hokey 'advice' is stuff he ends up directly doing to Ford.

These rats.

The Love Cage.

The Book of Bill really outlined all that in bold, but in my opinion, it was never an entirely new revelation! Bill seems to hold a preference for Ford over other humans in the show. He shows up in Ford's dreams just to say hi, tease him, and gloat (Mabelcorn) unlike the other two dream appearances he's made (Dreamscaperers, Sock Opera) which were exclusively for business purposes. Unlike every other character that gets exclusively one nickname for their zodiac sign, Ford gets multiple (Fordsy, IQ, Sixer, smart guy, brainiac, the list goes on). Bill asks Ford to join him TWICE, whereas anyone else who tries gets their face rearranged, put in a cage and made to dance, frozen in stone, etc etc. And finally, I think, the most emblematic of Bill's weird, specific relationship with Ford, is that whereas everybody else gets turned into stone, Ford got turned into gold.

Which kinda sums up their whole thing up pretty well? Bill gave him special treatment by turning him into a golden statue (similar to yellow ha ha), always holding him close, but, like... Dude. You still kidnapped a man and turned him into a statue and then threatened to kill his niece and nephew. I don't think it will change his opinion on you if he's the Most Pampered Hostage, Actually. I just don't think that we need to explore the relationships between characters as simply "Well, this character hurt the other one, so we shouldn't really think about why or what they feel personally, because what they did was bad, so there".

Bill & Ford interest me because they're a tragedy in motion. We can see that Bill and Ford mirror each other in a multitude of ways, and we can see that they both do have positive feelings towards each other at the time they meet, and we see that Bill very desperately wants Ford to be just like him in the unhealthy ways; the ways that make Bill destroy entire universes and compartmentalize it all, because maybe then, he can finally have the companionship he so deeply aches for. Bill and Ford both had tough, lonely upbringings, but Ford moved on from that "I don't need you" mentality. That's what saved him. Bill didn't, and that's what got him where he was in the end. I feel like that's just so much more interesting than Bill just being a flat entity that makes abuse Happen to Ford, just as another Event in his life. I mean, isn't it just SO much more interesting that Ford humanizes Bill, in a way? That Ford makes him- in Bill's own words- "sentimental"? That a chaotic dream demon has regrets and loves and favourites and connections? It's the same thing with Fiddleford & Ford, although, obviously, to a MUCH lesser extent than Bill & Ford. But you get what I mean, right? You know that Fiddleford and Ford are going to undo each other in the end, and the path to that downfall is... it's telling a story! I like the story of it all! I think that's what I've been invested in and intrigued by all these years- the story, the tragedy of Bill and Ford. No matter what form it takes.

(Plus, as tumblr user fordtato pointed out in their own essay (not tagging because this post is messy enough as is oh god), hey, Ford now has two incredibly queer-coded narratives, with one of them being about how he recovered and was able to heal from an abusive relationship. And, well, I think that's just neat.)

Anyways, that's the end of the post. Thanks for reading this long!

[hedgehog-moss]

The blueberry tart moral quandary has been very fun to ponder! Thank you for sharing it with us. I think the real question, however, is what each of your animals would think about ordering two slices of tart under the circumstances

You're right, that IS the true question here. Let's situate this in a universe where blueberry tart is safe & delicious to eat for all animal species.

CHICKENS. The chickens would definitely want that second helping of tart because chickens live in a solipsistic moral universe and would hesitate to share tart even if it was their dying sister's last wish. However if you place two slices of tart on the ground for 2 chickens, they will immediately and violently start fighting each other over the same slice, thus giving you the opportunity to discreetly retrieve the first slice for yourself. Moreover, if a chicken manages to break off half of the slice and starts running like hell to go eat it elsewhere in peace, the other chicken will take off after her instead of eating the other half happily by herself. If they then break this half in two while fighting over it, they will resume fighting over that half of the half, allowing you to retrieve 3/4 of the second slice. And so on. This is Zeno's paradox applied to chickens and tart: the hens will spend the rest of eternity fighting over diminishing crumbs while you get almost all of the second slice back (albeit broken in increasingly minuscule halves.)

CATS. Not only would the cats want that second slice regardless of who else wants it, they would also sit & start grooming themselves on the rest of the pie with great serenity, rendering it inedible for anyone else. However, my original post established that the pies were under large bell jars. Two of my three cats are (to their everlasting torment) stymied by this sadistic human invention. If the bell jar is heavy enough that you can't push it off the table (a popular strategy), then Mascarille and Merricat will just circle it a few times, ram their faces into the glass, do a full body swipe against it in case this might open a secret door, and then walk away in frustration. Morille on the other hand is a cat possessed of extreme patience, diabolical intelligence and acute interest in forbidden food. She will get the tart no matter how long she has to lie in wait.

DOG. Pandolf would not want a second slice or even a first one, if he is made to understand that this might make other people sad. The thing with Pandolf is, he can smell disappointment. His great big nose picks up on every particle of human disappointment in the air and they go straight to his heart. He is also too polite to even defend his bone from thieving chickens. There's no way he would claim any tart at all unless someone gave it to him and made it clear they would be happy for him to eat it. However Pandolf is very cute when he sits there with a lolling tongue, happy for others to have a good time, and there is also no way one or several persons wouldn't give him their slice of tart. He would definitely end up with tart.

LLAMAS. Pampelune is the matriarch and since her duties involve dying to protect her herd in case of predator attacks, she considers it her prerogative to eat first and as much as she damn pleases in compensation. She would get two slices. I believe Poldine would choose to have only one slice and kiss everyone in the restaurant on the cheek for good measure, and I also believe she would actually get zero tart. As shown in the salt video, Poldine understands her place in the pasture hierarchy (the one who eats last) and has to resort to subterfuge to get even 1 lick of salt while others are gorging themselves. She will be very dependent on other people's temperance and decency to get any tart (so, Pandolf is her best bet.) Meanwhile Pampérigouste is trying to figure out how to escape the restaurant undetected to go on an adventure while the sheeple are talking about tart. She will get one or two or three slices but only if they can facilitate her various stratagems (for example, to bribe a guard at the door.)

The FISH—do not have the cognitive abilities to worry about morals but more importantly, do not experience soul-deep desires in the way the birds and mammals in this list do. My fish live in a smooth and quiet world where the gods make food rain from the sky every day. In this luminescent existence of untroubled abundance their capacity for longing has atrophied. They do not understand what wanting tart means, let alone the complex philosophical agonies humans can put themselves through when faced with culinary conundrums.

DONKEY. Pirlouit's first instinct would be to claim all the tart he can eat and then some. However donkeys and fish sit at opposite ends of the philosophical spectrum; Pirlouit strikes me as an animal who would be interested in exploring the ethical ramifications of the issue, as an intellectual exercise. 70% of his life consists in quiet deep ponderings. I think Pirlouit could get distracted ruminating the blueberry tart quandary in light of the rich philosophical heritage of donkey civilisation, and arrive too late to get any tart by the time he determined whether one or two slices is the right answer. Kind of like that time he got distracted by his need for revenge and was late for breakfast and the llamas had already claimed the hay.

IN CONCLUSION.

[obscure-entity]

your shading is AMAZING specially when its conveying organic forms..... do you have any tips for people who dont know wrf going on (with shading)

ok so HI. hi. my old tutorial pisses me off so i will make a new one

i made a guy whose sole purpose is to be shaded so dont worry he likes it. and his name. his name will be mr. Boob. mr boob does not have to be blue

theres probably way better explanations of how to do it but unfortunately trying to "emulate" shading does ask you to somewhat understand ur character in a 3d way. like what would the 2d shape be if you "sliced" it? mr boob is made of so many circles. his tail also does a kind of weird perspective foreshortening thing because its pointing at you. is this being conveyed

you obviuously dont have to draw a horrendous grid on your characters skin to do this . BUT it helps you put down (or at least envision) the lines of the form shading :

dont worry about cast shadows or the shading color because this is FORM SHADOW time only. think about what surfaces of the character are obviously facing away from the light source and put down the "separation line" of the shading based on that. thr most important thing is that youre trying to separate light from dark

im going to pick the first one for cast shadows bc it will be the most obvious to me

ok so. his ears and snout are blocking other surfaces of his body from the light, which means a shadow is cast!!!! bam. i saw someone describe cast shadows as what the light's pov "can't see." his entire body is putting down a cast shadow on the ground too

im impatient so i blended the form shadows now. its usually the easiest to just NOT blend cast shadows as a way of conveying that they are still cast shadows. but you can still blend them if you want to show "distance" between the obstruction and the surface its blocking. but its just a way of saying form and cast shadows should not be treated the same even if their softness coincides

im going to lump reflection and ambient light together because theyre like. similar. reflections dont just happen in mirrors

since the sky is blue, making the ambient lighting, i tinged mr. boobs existing shadow to be a bit blue. (*this is kind of important because it can help you decide a shading color, which should USUALLY be based on the environment) (unless your character is just in the transparent void then it doesnt matter)

since the ground is pink, i made pink light bounce off of him. pointed and labelled. i dont rlly know how to go more in depth than that

contact shadows are literally shadows formed from direct-touching contact. very little light can reach in there, even from how reflections disperse, which means youre free to use the darkest color available (black). in this case mr. boob is making contact with the floor. because he is sitting on the floor.

i touched him up a bit and wow!!!!!!!!!! look at mr. boob!!! he is so beautifully sculpted.

and one more thing

thats right. i made mr boob PINK. hes fucking ruined now. just kidding i would never say that to him

what im trying to convey here (its the easiest with really light colors) is a transitional color. this can also show subsurface scattering depending on how you use it which is fun to look at. the mistake i made on my last tutorial was "Just pick a warm saturated color!" which is really wrong in examples like Blue mr boob. because it would be weird to use a warm color to transition from blue to blue.

if you have a character that isn't bright enough then obviously the shadows wont be as visible. its BEST to bring more attention to highlights and reflections to reveal the form a bit. they play the biggest role with darker colors

thats all i can think of. fun things to look up:

structuralization + contour lines + foreshortening etc. 3d lingo

form shadows

cast shadows

ambient light

contact shadows

subsurface scattering

im also just speaking out of my ass otherwise. i didnt look up any of these terms until the end now im inferring and hoping i got them right

and remember every time you shade mr boob will be rooting for you

[physalian]

What No one Tells You about Writing Fantasy, #2!

I did this list about 7 annoyances about fantasy, but I write in this genre for a reason! Fantasy knows no bounds, it can encompass all other genres within it. You can write a fantastical murder mystery, fantasy horror, fantasy romance, political drama, slice-of-life, comedy, whatever you’d like!

Whether it’s urban or high fantasy, supernatural or scientific, here’s seven great benefits of writing in this genre:

1. No modern means of communication

Unless you’re writing a world with phones or phone-adjacent devices. Phones and instant communication seriously inhibits the plausibility of dramatic irony and tension when you have to keep coming up with reasons to keep your characters from calling or texting each other everything they know. It’s exhausting, I tell you, and such a relief when phones aren’t a factor.

With that said, without phones, you have complete freedom to design your own magical channels of supernatural FaceTime, as weird and zany as you want. But without instant connections? Your character who knew too much can’t pass on the intel before they die. Your hero team can’t call for backup in their darkest hour. Otherwise easily preventable tragedies and deadly miscommunications are now very real.

2. The Monster Allegory

Fantasy and sci-fi tend to overlap more than they’re set apart, and in that overlap sits the monster allegory. Everything from werewolves to vampires to witches, reapers, demons, angels, goblins, trolls, wraiths, fairies, mermaids, ghosts, to Eldritch horrors and your classic Hollywood cast of mummies, creatures from the black lagoon, and Frankenstein.

Most of the time, the monsters aren’t just monsters, they represent a monstrous aspect of society the author wants to challenge and caricaturize in a fun and entertaining way. Or, the monsters are the good guys and the humans are the real terrors. Or, you’ve got two kinds of monsters to allegory two human sides. Sometimes they represent metaphorical demons, like vampires often representing addiction and werewolves repressed identities.

What all of this boils down to is the hyperbolic nature of science fantasy that allows you to go over-the-top with your metaphor and allegory in a way that a book grounded in reality just can’t.

3. Magic Systems!

Do you love world building? Do you love filling pages upon pages with your cool and unique set of superpowers you want your characters to have? Do you dream about your fight scenes and dramatic slow-mo shots?

Then Fantasy is for you!

There are zero limits to how you want to define your magic system. You can go classic with the familiar archetypes of elemental magic, wizards, sorcerers, and witches. Or you can step off the beaten path and design a whole new funky system of power sets. Best part? Your readers will have an awesome time imagining themselves with those powers, and debating endlessly about how it works.

4. Real-World Politics, who?

Amazon’s Rings of Power was twice-doomed when they only got the rights to adapt the appendices of The Silmarillion and when they decided to inject current political problems into a timeless story written purposefully to be divorced from those politics. You *can* write about human politics, but in fantasy, you don’t have to. You *can* interpret Lord of the Rings to be an allegory about the World Wars, but no matter how hard you argue, it wasn’t written with that intent.

Which means: Even if your story is set in the reality-adjacent fantasy version of 1543, you are free from the following: Racism, homophobia, sexism, religious bigotry, mental health bigotry, gender norms, anti-feminism, toxic masculinity, and more. “But that’s how it was-”

Nope. This is fantasy. You built this world, you decided to keep in the discrimination. Or… You can fill your fantasy world with a rainbow of gays, POCs in power, women in power, men unafraid to be compassionate and caring, a religion that doesn’t foster hate and division, the list goes on. You. Are. Free.

5. Nothing is too “unrealistic”

Both that you will always have people whining about how X would never happen so write the book you want to read, but also because fantasy is fake. Fairies aren’t real. Mermaids aren’t real. There are no rules for how they must be written and that’s how we have so much variety with so much room for interpretation by so many creators. Twilight made how much money writing about vampires that sparkle like diamonds in sunlight and crack like marble?

This is fantasy, it’s supposed to be unrealistic. Yes, your plot should make sense, but don’t be afraid to get weird. Write at least some of your story dependant on those fantasy elements. Write a story that can’t just be told in the real world minus the spectacle. Don’t be afraid to be sincerely fantastical and weird. People love weird. People love loving weird.

6. You are in complete control

But you do still need to research, unfortunately. Unless this is urban fantasy that depends at least a little on the human world, yours is completely your own to govern like a god tweezing weeds from their garden. You get to design your own geography and weather patterns and seasons. Your own countries and kingdoms and politicians. Your epic pre-canon fantasy war and the stakes that it was fought over. Your species, races, and ethnicities.

It’s a shame that a movie like Avatar (2009) set out to be this wholly unique take on aliens with music completely divorced from earthly bonds, new languages and a visually and culturally distinct alien species… and ended up a largely generic blue Pocahontas in space. It forgot that it was fantasy and didn’t go weird enough. They have horses, monkeys, wolves, rhinos, and deer just re-skinned with some extra limbs and colors. It’s pretty but it’s so, so shallow.

It could have become a cult classic like many a positively *weird* 80s off-beat fantasies, and now it just… exists. It makes a whole lot of money but its impact on the cultural zeitgeist is negligible. I’m the only person I know that can name every major character in the movie, and I’m no Avatar obsessor. They had complete creative control, and this is what they did with it. Don’t be Avatar. Take your creative freedom and run.

7. Even if it has been done before, do it again

You can say this about any genre, particularly romance, but fantasy and sci-fi, by the gatekeep-y nature of their fans, can be a lot less forgiving when it comes to claims of “unoriginality”. No one hates Star Wars more than Star Wars fans. Fans of these genres can get… concerningly attached to their favorite stories (mostly because the people who like them had only their fictional heroes to protect them from very real bullies).

But Game of Thrones exists because the author likes Lord of the Rings and went “yes, but what if it was an R-rated parade of misery?” Dungeons and Dragons exists because people wanted to roleplay in an LotR-esque world. Legolas and Gimli single-handedly defined what a badass elf and dwarf looks like in high fantasy. And people still gobble up media ripping shamelessly, or even good-naturedly, from this one story.

So on my other list, I argued that the sum of your parts is still original, even if the components aren’t. On this list, I implore you this: It’s not stealing or appropriating to write another Legolas if you love Legolas. Everyone loves Legolas. How many generic buff action heroes do we have and love? How many Hallmark romances tread the same predictable path? Who gives a damn if it’s unoriginal? Just make it entertaining and have something fresh to say in the end (or don’t, that’s fine too), and people will read it.

And when people say “Oh, you mean like Legolas”, take it as a compliment, not an insult. Yes, exactly like Legolas. Here’s my new elf because I adore this other book, now watch him go on a new adventure that I wrote for him.

[laythestar]

You made me know how true love is;

Words: 359.

Damian wasn’t used to being in a romantic relationship.

  But he wasn’t anything but devoted to those he shared some length of affection with.

   It started slowly, with him sharing part of his lunch with you, mostly because he knew you often forgot yours and he was a very nice person. — Jon sulked because one day he asked Damian to give him a slice of Damian’s lunch since he was in a hurry that morning and had forgotten to pick the lunchbox his mom made for him, just to be met with the most annoyed glare he had ever received —.

   Then, Damian started to give you little drawings of the animals he had since you were always happy to see photos of them. Soon, he started to hold your hand more, started to kiss your forehead every time you two said goodbye — he only kissed you on the lips when he was sure that his family wasn’t watching because they always began to make fun of him —. 

    It was such a shock the first time he said “I love you” back, to the point that you choked on your own saliva and began coughing. It was embarrassing to you, but Damian found it cute. (Don’t worry, he gave you a glass of water to help you).

   Damian always made sure to reassure you that he loved you.

“Dami, would you still love me if I was a worm?”

“Why would I date a worm?” 

“Answer the question.”

“No.” 

“So you don’t love me?”

“Habibti, I know that you know that I love you.”

“Then why would you not date me if I was a worm?”

“Because it would be weird, I won’t even know if you were you because all worms are the same.”

“How do you know that?”

“Habibti, don’t tease me. Why does this matter if right now, I’m dating you?” 

“Fair enough.” 

   Of course that then you would do more tik tok trends with him, you were as annoying as Grayson, Drake and Kent all together. — He still wouldn’t trade you for anything, even if he had to choose between you and the mantle of Robin—.

[loveafterdeath-if]

DEMO | EXTRAS | DISCORD | KO-FI

Wordcount ~120k (Prologue + Chap1) Last updated: 11/08/2024

Your past is in the past. And your future is with your lover.

Life has been kind to you these past few years. After everything you've been through, after building yourself stronger both mentally and physically, after crawling out of what seemed to be a dead end, this peace is… nice. Very nice. A lover who adores you, a best friend who has your back, a cozy house to call home, hell, even a cat you didn't ask for.

No more stress. No more tears, rage, helplessness, or feeling powerless. Everything is going smoothly.

But isn't it going a bit too smoothly?

Content warning: Please note that "Love After Death" is rated 18+ due to sexually suggestive scenes, optional sexual content, themes of child abuse, violence, death (duh), and more. If you find yourself uncomfortable at any point while playing, please prioritize your well-being and stop playing.

This game is a slice-of-life with heavy romance elements. If romance isn't your cup of tea, this might definitely not be the game for you (sorry!)

Customization: Shape your journey by choosing your gender, appearance, personality, and your love after death. Meet other people than your bestie. Suffer... from stuff. Get along with kids or their parents. Have a new job as assistant. And more...

Elias/Ellie Winter (m/f), 26:

Your lover and a rising star in the modeling world, someone you trust and love. They've always been your rock in whatever situations you found yourself in, no matter how hard it was to pull you out of your past. You're all they always wanted, and you're all they'll always want. That's just fate for them. You are their fate. But here's a tip: don't get too attached. No, seriously. Don't.

Luna/Leon Melth (f/m), 43: Your neighbor and CEO of a prestigious cosmetics corporation. They're mature, but not exactly ancient. Their good looks and charm turn heads wherever they go, and they love every second of it. They live for it. It's been ages since their last serious relationship. Maybe they miss love, maybe that's why they make sure their bed's never cold, or maybe they're just having fun. Who knows?

Tracee/Travis Melth(f/m), 27:

Your neighbor's son/daughter and CFO of their parent's corporation. You never know what they think or what they might feel. They're like a locked diary, impossible to read. While most people struggle to get more than two words out of them, you've noticed they act differently around you. Not as stoic or cold with you as they are with others. Maybe you're special, or maybe you're delusional.

Athiel Winter (m/f), 24: Your lover's sibling and fellow model. An annoying and arrogant person who can't seem to stop antagonizing you. You two mix like oil and water. Even when things seem peaceful, Athiel makes it their personal mission to remind you that you're nothing more than an annoying bug beneath their designer boots. That's all you are. Charming, right?

Ekissa Jones (m/f), 28:

Your best friend and a passionate artist. How you managed to befriend this grumpy soul remains a mystery, but beneath that prickly exterior lies… well, still someone pretty grumpy, but in an cute and adorable way….. You're probably their only friend and you know what? They don't care, because that's enough for Ekissa. You've always been enough.

[southern-fried-simpin]

We Belong Dead| Alastor x Dead Wife!Reader

A/n: Hey everyone I know it’s been a LONG time since I’ve written something and I’m sorry it’s not DC related but I finished Hazbin with my fiancée MONTHS AGO and I’ve been wanting to write Alastor soooo bad! With all of that being said, let it be known that I do NOT condone or agree with any of the questionable actions and opinions of Vivienne Medrano, but I DO enjoy this show and a lot of the characters.

Warning(s): Floofy but suggestive, Alastor “using” reader and reader just kind of going along with it, mentions of murder, sad at first, human Alastor and reader mentioned, temporary unrequited love, Demi romantic Alastor, Alastor because he’s…Alastor, mentions of marriage, canon divergence, suicide, death, loooooong introduction and plot h🫠

“Mama, we’re gonna get married!”

Alastor had decided that you were both ready for marriage in the middle of the school yard and decided to announce this as his mother came to pick him up.

His mother feigned shock as she started to playfully chide him.

“You can’t just marry some girl you met on the first day of school!”

Alastor kept his arms around you as you both giggled and showed his mother the ribbon he had tied around your finger.

“Oh my!” She exclaimed.

“Obviously you two are very serious about this! How about we have your fiancée over for dinner after school one day so I can get to know her better, hm?”

Despite Alastor never having that wedding ceremony with you on the playground, you both remained close all the way up until you graduated high school. After that, you went your separate ways.

Several years later, when Alastor bumped into you as you were leaving the corner store one day, you ended up talking to him for hours. After which, you had started getting together more often. Eating out, going to shows, drinking and having fun together.

Somewhere along the way, however, having fun together turned into going on dates together. Going on dates turned into staying up late talking for hours about anything and everything, and lovely gifts.

One such gift being your engagement ring.

Looking back on it now, you don’t know how or why you thought it was normal for a man to propose after 6 months.

On the outside, Alastor was the husband that every woman dreamed of. He helped you clean and cook, he never raised his voice, and he always bragged about you. On the inside however, something felt stiff. Tense. Off.

Alastor rarely ever initiated kisses, he barely touched you, and he disappeared in the middle of the night rather frequently.

After he was killed, it all made sense. You weren’t his wife so much as you were his alibi. Who would have thought the vicious killer that buried his victims on a hunting ground had a wife waiting at home? A wife who, despite what everyone believed, was oblivious to his crimes. It didn’t matter, though. In a matter of days, you lost your job, your friends, and your peace of mind. In the weeks that came to pass, you slowly lost your mind and your will to live as well.

You died in your sleep after taking a cocktail of pills with a glass of brandy. The police found you in bed wearing your most expensive nightgown, your hair neatly styled, and makeup done perfectly.

Just like before, time had gone on, and your time in hell had been quite interesting. Maybe even a bit enjoyable if you were being honest. The old saying rang true: Hell truly had no fury like a woman scorned. Your arrival in Hell was a testament to that.

Armed with your broken heart and raw, stinging rage, you made a home for yourself and began your own business. Anyone who got in your way was sliced open with the very weapons you sold. You were very aware of Alastor’s presence, but made no effort to contact him. He had no idea you were here, either.

That changed a few days ago.

Who should you see while on an outing in Cannibal Town but your darling husband. He looked different, but you recognized him almost immediately. He offered to walk with you and followed you even after you declined. Every day after that, he miraculously ran into you everywhere you went. He was relentless in trying to get your attention. He would try to talk to you and when you ignored him, he would carry on speaking like it was nothing. Today you finally cracked when he invited you to come to a hotel. The Hazbin Hotel, specifically.

“Why?”

“Well, I thought I might show you this little…business venture…I’ve been working on recently! After all, it’s been awhile since I’ve seen my lovely wi-“

“Don’t call me that.” You spat.

His smile never faltered, but his eyes held a look of momentary discomfort.

“Ah, and here we are!” Alastor pointed his staff towards the building in front of you. It looked like some place from when you were alive, except old and decrepit.

Ever the gentleman, Alastor held the door for you as you walked in before he followed suit. Not 5 minutes passed before a woman with long silver hair angrily stomped in your direction.

“Alastor! Where have y-,” she paused when she noticed you by his side, “who…who the fuck is this?” A blonde was following close behind her.

“I’m glad you asked!” Alastor’s smile broadened. He proceeded to introduce you as his beloved wife to everyone in the room, and then introduced them to you, completely ignoring the looks of shock and awe on their faces. Before anyone else in the room could speak, Alastor hastily took your hand.

“Now, if you excuse us, we have some things to discuss.” With that, you and Alastor promptly dissolved into a shadowy mist.

The lobby was silent then as everyone stared at where Alastor and you once stood.

“Ssso…that was weird for everyone elsse too…right?”

Meanwhile, upstairs, Alastor turned after carefully locking the door to his room.

“Now, I suppose I owe you an explana—“, he was cut off by a resounding smack when your hand connected with his cheek. Alastor’s head turned with a sharp snap. He stood completely still there for a moment, eyes wide and smile looking painfully forced. If it had been anyone else, they would’ve been dead by now, but you? Well…he always liked how feisty you were. Alastor cleared his throat before speaking again.

“Alright…”, he said while turning to face you. “I probably deserved that…”

“You deserve a lot worse than that actually, but go on.”

“I know, and I can’t…” Alastor suddenly felt unsure of what to say. Granted, The Radio Demon was not one for heartfelt apologies (or any apologies for that matter) but if anyone deserved one from him, it was you. Yet, there he stood: the feared Radio Demon, lost for words at your mere presence.

There was a long and uncomfortable silence.

“Do you have any idea what you did to me?” You finally said. “What I suffered because of you?!”

Alastor offered no response.

“What FUCKING-“ you paused as tears began to well in your eyes. Your face red and splotchy and your lips quivering as you started to sob.

“You lied to me-“

“I did.”

“You used me!”

“I did.”

“You told me you loved me!”

“I do.”

And that gave you pause. Had he loved you? Really loved you? No. It had to be a lie. He couldn’t possibly-

“I know I can’t make up for everything I did and everything that happened…” Alastor said while walking towards you. When he stopped, just a few inches from you, you had to look up at him. Alastor was taller than you in life, but now he towered over you. He gently took your hand in his. “But I’ll spend the rest of eternity trying…for you.”

You watched as he gently kissed your fingers. With tears in your eyes and an uneven breath, you laid your head on his chest.

You missed him. You tried not to miss him, but you did and there was no use in denying it anymore.

“One chance,” you finally said. “That’s all you get.”

“That’s all I’m asking.”

You looked up at Alastor and locked eyes with him briefly. The feared Radio Demon wanted nothing more right now than a chance to have you back. His eyes flitted between your lips and your eyes before he dipped you low. To anyone else, it would be an over-the-top gesture, but to you? Oh, how his theatrics made you blush and swoon.

“So…what do you say, darling?” He leaned in closer, almost touching his forehead to yours.

“Do we have a deal?~”

You raised a brow at his words.

He chuckled then.

“Ah, I apologize for my poor choice of words. What I meant was: May I have the honor of courting you, my dear?”

Your eyes softened and you smiled up at him.

“Yes, darling.”

[777heavengirl]

request: omg i loved your drabble with sirius and ravenclaw! reader 🥹 could you perhaps write with the same pairing when she gets really jealous and would rather die than admit it <3

note: sorry it took me a bit to get to this but yas i rlly hope you enjoy it!!! :D it was fun to write, its around 1238 words ! warnings: n/a masterlist

You glared at the back of Sirius’s head with intensity, as if the boy could feel it. His potions partner giggled and gripped his bicep at some stupid sarcastic comment he made. Sirius was brilliant at potions, yet he never paid attention. He severely lacked with the essays, but his potions were infuriatingly well done, so he always took it easy and his partner never did anything besides fawn over him. No matter who it was.

The bimbo next to him was doing that very well.

“It's rubbish isn't it?” Xenophilius, your partner, was eccentric, to say the least. Not in a bad way, normally you and him had a fun time and managed to do a good enough job, thanks to your many hours at the library, however, today was a lackluster performance. According to Slughorn, the potion was supposed to be an ‘eclectic orange!’ and yours was almost terracotta. You didn’t know what he meant by eclectic but it for sure wasn’t this.

"Yes, I suppose you could say so"

Xenophilius was in his own world half the time and certainly did not know what was going on in your class and you had been a bit preoccupied today. Watching the stupid witch cling to your boyfriend. You wouldn’t dream of admitting it to him, but it stung to watch his housemate fawn over him, you knew there was no threat— he complained about how useless she was often enough that you knew he was simply exasperated with her. But he never pushed her away, and you knew it was in an effort to vex you. So you glared and pouted behind his back. Almost as if he could feel it Sirius turned his head towards you, sending you a wink over his shoulder.

Bastard.

”Don’t worry so much Xeno,” you muttered as you both peered into your simmering cauldron, watching the marmalade-orange swirl with a grimace. He looked at you from over his thin-framed glasses, peeling his eyes with a hint of nervousness. You maintained your cool composure. “I’ll get it fixed,”

He gave a weak smile, leaning back on his stool. People were starting to bottle their concoctions, so you did the same. Giving the small vial to Xenophilius to walk up to the Slughorn’s desk. He stared at the very wrongly colored liquid in discontent and you shot him an award-winning smile.

It was tricky to get the timing right. But Sirius, as much as you loved him, was predictable. He gave his small vial to his partner, and the two fell in step with you and Xenophilius. 

“So, no explosions today?”

”That was one time, you need to let it go,” You rolled your eyes as a smirk slid onto his lips. Two weeks ago your cauldron bursted into ash, Xenophilius added one too many slices of dugbog tongue, and the entire potion immediately turned to dust. Slughorn found it quite hilarious having never seen such a thing! you were grateful the jolly man let you restart otherwise your grade would be down the gutter. Xenophilius started adding only stuff you had measured beforehand. 

“I’m just surprised such bright Ravenclaws such as yourselves managed to do such a thing” he basically giggled out the statement, enjoying the reddening of your cheeks and the way you tried to play it off. His partner, predictably so, started to try to get closer to Sirius and ended up ahead of the two of you. You gave Xenophilius a small push to do the same. As much as you liked your potions partner, your housemate was the definition of ditzy. He quickly lost balance and bumped into Sirius’s partner, the both of them dropping the vials. 

“Arresto momentum” Your wand work had been quick enough to hold them in the air just before they hit the cobblestone, and you were quick to bend down to grab them. “Here you go Hilda-“ you handed her one of the vials back.

”It’s Brenda,” 

“I really could not care less,” You smiled at her, genuinely so and Sirius couldn’t help but to bark out a laugh.

”A yes Ms Y/L/N, Mr Lovegood, I trust we had no issues today?”

Xenophilius scratched the back of his head, opening his mouth to confess that it had gone less than stellar, you quickly kicked his foot to shut him up.

”I believe we did swell professor” You handed him the vial, the now ‘eclectic’ orange potion in his hand made his eyes sparkle with delight.

“And that you did, flawless work you two” You smiled widely and shot Sirius a smirk. His smirk fell from his face as he grabbed the vial from his partner, staring at the terracotta-colored liquid. You walked away quickly, dragging Xenophilius to clean up your station waving your wand with quiet spells to get everything in order before you left.

”May I know what we just did?”

”We did stellar is what we did, on top of that I settled scores so continue telling me about these marbles of yours”

"They're called Nargles, and well basically-"

"You're a vicious minx doll, sorry Xeno-" Sirius sauntered over, shooting Xeno a small smile before turning to you with a scowl. "Have we considered you were sorted into the wrong house?"

"Whatever do you mean?" You bid Xenophilius goodbye with a wave and picked up your bag, smiling innocently at your boyfriend. Sirius, ever the gentleman, quickly snatched your bag onto his own shoulder. 

"I mean, that I know you switched them," he whispered in your ear "You should've been sorted into Slytherin," he tsk'd as he shook his head and you couldn't help but laugh. 

"Honestly Sirius, I don't know where you get these ideas, maybe you were just too distracted with Ms. Hilda over there and botched it"

"Doll, we both know I don't botch potions," he had his arm around your shoulders as you walked, his lips ghosting over your ear as he pulled you against him. "green isn't your color, don't get jealous now,"

"The last thing I'd ever be, is jealous" You laughed sarcastically, rolling your eyes. Over your dead body.

"Oh is that so?"

"Indeed," 

"Then you won't care that I have to go in later and redo it with Brenda," you couldn't help the scowl that formed on your face, brows furrowed as you asked

"I thought we were supposed to go play on the pitch with James later" He laughed and pinched your cheek with his fingers.

"You got jealous and messed up my potion, now we both have to pay the price for it doll," you pushed him off now, his laughter bouncing off of the cobblestone. 

"Goodbye Sirius!" you waved him off as you started walking, weaving through the people in the halls.

"Oh come on-" he quickly caught up to you, pulling you into his arm, halting traffic. He smushed you against his side again, not letting you fight your way out of his embrace. "I was just having a laugh love, I had enough for a second vial and gave him that one" you hummed in acknowledgment. 

"Not funny, for the record I was not jealous-"

"If you say so love," he pressed a kiss to your cheek "but for the record, there's no need to be jealous, I'm yours" You elbowed him in the ribs, a barked laugh leaving him again, a small smile gracing your face.

[admirxation]

彡 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞

♡ 𝐬𝐮𝐦. Levi is on a business trip and misses his partner, missing all the fun they had, so they have an intimate phone call together.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 — afab!reader x husband!Levi Ackerman, 18+ smut mdni, porn with little plot, modern au, established relationship (f/m), terms of endearment (sweetheart is used often), phone sex, male and female masturbation, nipple pinching, fantasising, dirty talk, orgasms, and cum.

Levi’s new job had come with many perks—higher pay and more vacation days—but there was still one huge disadvantage that affected both of you; it was eating at too much of his time, the personal time he wanted with you. The distance gnawed, equally, at you both with how he had to take frequent business trips that stopped his usual presence around the house, and even if he wasn’t that far away, you would still miss him more than anything when he had to stay a few nights at some hotel. These trips were just a constant catalyst for mutual yearning.

You missed the quiet intimacy of waking up beside him and seeing his messy hair, the gentle kisses you two would share throughout the day with soft touches that often lingered; even after years of marriage, you two still wanted one another like the early days of younger dating. Now, with the business trips in the equation, you were frequently sleeping alone in the night, with cold and empty bedsheets being your lacklustre company as his side remained empty.

However, lucky for you, Levi would always make time to give you a quick call before he would go to sleep, no matter how drained he was after a long day, checking up on you was his priority before ending the day. It didn’t matter how heavy his eyes were or how many yawns that would interrupt the flow of his sentences, you were always going to get that call. You would constantly tell him to go to sleep, and not worry, but that pleading just made you sound like a broken record with how many times he denied your worries and spammed the call button; it wasn’t like the man got much sleep anyway before these business trips, so might as well use the insomnia as an advantage in your relationship.

Just like previous nights, you were laying on your soft cotton bedsheets, pressing the phone close to your ear as you savoured every word he shared with you; smiling to yourself as you looked at the ceiling and got taken into the musicality of it as your finger twirled strands of your hair.

“Hm, when are you coming back?” you asked, not bothering to hide the evident desperation that lingered at the end of your every word.

“Tomorrow night, and thank god for that,” you smiled at his words, “but… I don’t want you waiting up on me, I’ll probably get back very late.”

There was a shared, mutual, laugh that softly filled both of your rooms over the phone, a recognition that you weren’t going to listen to his advice; similar to how he never listened to yours—the perfect stubborn couple.

“When have I ever not waited for you? You know I will be up to greet you… Even if I have to wait until the a.m.”

A low vibration came from his throat as he let a breathy laugh out, from your stubborn attitude, finding it endearing how you shared the same want he had for you.

“I do admire your patience,” he said with his voice now dripping into something sultry, dripping thick and sweet like sticky maple syrup.

The tension, between you two, was palpable and thick enough that someone could slice right through it; you both wanted one another in ways that transcended written and verbal description. It tugged at both of you, as your breath hitched with your closed eyes and felt a magnetic pull you had with him as liquid heat ran through your veins for him. You pressed your fingertips on the cold material of your phone case, letting the box be snug against your ear, just wishing it was his skin beneath your fingertips, instead of the cold glass pressed onto you.

“I’ve been thinking about you nonstop while here, you know,” he uttered through a deep breath as his voice dropped even lower with his adam apple bopping to adjust to the depth of his tone, each of his words laced with an unmistakable and insatiable need for you. Even if you were going to see each other tomorrow, he wanted you so bad… right now. “Every damn meeting, every annoying client, and every time I’m supposed to be doing paperwork… Ugh, I can’t wait to see you tomorrow.”

Your lips curved into a smile as heat unfurled in your chest, humming in response.

“Oh, I’m curious what exactly you’ve been thinking about,” you stated with a playful and tantalising expression, both of you waiting in anticipation for this teasing game to finally begin and play out, every nerve alight as you both continued to speak.

There was a comfortable pause, long enough for Levi to reach around the plethora of his imaginations that contained you in every situation, returning to you with a seductive whisper that made you wrap around his little finger; consuming and pulling you in further.

“I think about waking up next to you… feeling how warm you are against me. I miss the ways your eyes light up whenever you’re lost in conversation with me, and seeing that beautiful smile,” you could honestly feel that smile he had on his face, “but mostly… I think about the feel of your skin and body underneath my fingertips, your warm breath against my neck, and how gorgeous you are underneath me… Especially with those cute little gasps you do when it feels, just, right.”

Those words sent a flush of crimson racing across your cheeks, every nerve buzzing with electricity as warmth pooled within your body and made your inner thighs subconsciously rub together, hanging on to every word that came from his mouth. Your breath came out fractured with a soft exhale, feeling anticipation and want as that tingling sensation within your core started to develop deeper; arousal soon following the tingling wake. 

“I’m curious… What would you do if you were here, at home, right now?” you whispered on the phone.

“God… What wouldn’t I do,” he said under his breath with a raw edge that left little to the imagination, “you really wanna know, sweetheart?”

“Hence I asked,” you teased back.

“Come on, no need to act all dumb, you know exactly what I would do if I was in that bed with you… right now… and I know for a fact that when I’d be done with you, your thighs would be quivering and you’d be whimpering for more,” you loved his overt confidence when he dirty talked like this with you.

You felt a throbbing heartbeat pounding and pulsating through you, your heart rate quickening at his words as that warmth continued to spread throughout your body and trickle down your core; closing your eyes as you swallowed a quiet gulp when remembering the many nights, you had together. Those nights when Levi made you his, leaving you gasping, quivering, and in such a pretty mess; missing that indulgent sweet pain from this thick tip of his cock that would kiss against your cervix, that memory of his dick stretching you out is a constant focal point that you mind couldn’t let go of. You were in such a hazy daze as the coil within your core started to knot inside your lower stomach, your toes curling to your graphic memory your mind erratically kept bringing you back to.

“Oh, I do know what you’re capable of… but I would still like to hear what you would do to me… Come on, I love it when you get creative.”

“Aren’t you a dirty girl tonight,” he released a low and teasing chuckle, his words painted with playful tantalisation that made that heat inside of you extrapolate to deeper arousal, desperate for the knotted heat inside of you to find self-release.

“Please, I really want to know,” you pleaded softly, and that was something Levi could never resist.

“Okay, since you’re such a good girl,” he paused for a moment to keep you right on the edge, “Well… I would start by kissing your neck.. and I’d make sure my lips trail up to your favourite sweet spot… you know… the one that makes you melt… just for me.”

“Mmhmm,” you hummed in response through your bitten lip, your thighs continuing to rub together as you felt the lace fabric of your underwear already start to soak; feeling it form a wet patch that pressed against your bare skin.

“And, of course, I would leave a few bites, a few hickies… Since you love it when I mark you, don’t you sweetheart?”

“Yeah… I do, Levi.”

“Hm, don’t I know my girl well,” he teased, “Hey sweetheart… what are you wearing? Right now.”

“Just a dressing gown at the moment.”

There was a dip in his breathing pattern at your response: “Please, please, tell me you’re wearing nothing underneath it,” he practically begs with released deep breaths, his hand already starting to smooth down his abs and into his boxers; rubbing up and down his large length that was tightly pressing against the fabric of his underwear.

“Yeah… nothing, whatsoever,” you smirked.

He released a fractured and pleasurable pant: “Good, makes it easier for my next request… Can you take it off for me?”

You soon followed his ask, letting the silk unwrap to expose your soft skin to the cool air that breezed amongst you, lying on top of it and waiting for his next step to appease his mind.

“Now… I want you to touch your chest, can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

Your mind started to fog at his intimate request, letting your hand cup the swell of your breast and letting your fingers trickle up to slide over your sensitive nipple; releasing a broken and fragmented breath as you watched it rise into a peak before giving it a gentle pinch that dominoed into a whimper escaping from your lips. Your heard Levi’s deep and aroused pants, getting turned on and wetter as you heard his constant utterings: “You sound so sexy” and “Keep going,” that was accompanied by his laboured breaths from him rubbing his hardened cock to the sound of your sweet moans that seemed like it was a copy and pasted straight of porn.

“Mm, tell me how it feels.”

“It f-feels so good… but it would feel much b-better if it was you touching me, Levi,” you said through your pleasurable stutters.

“Fuck,” he whispered, “if I was there, I’d leave so many kisses on those pretty tits… I miss touching and squeezing them, they’re so warm and soft… Do you miss my touch?”

“So much.”

“How much?”

“I-I can’t even put it into words, Levi.”

Through a groan, he called out to you after his mind trailed in deep thought about how much he wanted you.

“Can you touch yourself for me, I wanna hear how turned on you are,” he expressed with an alluring confidence.

You felt a deepened shade of blush dust on your cheeks, your core continued to throb as that coil within you continued to knot, getting yourself so worked up over him. With shaky hands, you set the phone down and put him on speaker, placing it beside you before you let your fingers trail further downwards to delve underneath the waistband of lace, your fingers plunging further down to feel the slick that had puddled against the fabric. Your fingers traced over your wet folds, before collecting the tips of your fingers in directed swirls on your desperate clit, it is so sensitive and begging in its basked warmth.

“Imagine it’s me touching you… Making you feel good and needy,” he whispers his seductive mutters with thick desire as he hears your breathing deepen and quicken, “I’m just imagining how you’d squirm underneath my touch; would you love that?”

“Yes,” you replied with a sharp gasp.

The soft texture of your fingertips kept swirling along your puffy cluster of nerves, the sound of his thick and velvety voice taking on memories of warmth and electric passion. You let his voice fill the room with his sultry suggestive words, letting your fingers slip against you and your other hand travelling upwards to tweak at your hardened nipple; a collection and wave pool of foggy overstimulation erupt into moans from your glossy lips. Your breaths continued to come out as sharp, sudden, bursts with his voice curating a heightened spike of pleasure that flowed within you as you felt how wet you were along your fingers.

“Mm, the things I would do to feel that pretty pussy right now,” he expressed through a muffled moan as he continued to rub in steady motion, “I remember how you look so beautiful when you’re bouncing on my cock, I love watching you moan and especially when you kick your head back when it’s too much.”

“Ahh, nnghh, I wanna feel you so bad.”

A tantalising chuckle travelled through the speaker of your phone, he felt so smug and confident with how you were a whimpering, puddled, mess for him; he loved it when you were left like this, so vulnerable and needy for him.

“When I’m back from this trip, the first thing I’m gonna do is fuck you senseless. Nnghh~ All night long until you can’t take it anymore.”

He promised as he continued to fist his throbbing, erect, cock; his reddened and sensitive tip already dribbling precum and sliding down his surrounding slender fingers. Groaning at the sound of your sharp and desperate gasps that snapped out of you.

With shaky relief, two digits trailed down the line of your soaking labia, dragging them until gently pushing the dual pair into your aching cunt; dragging out a lewd and sensual moan as you pushed them deeper, feeling your walls grip onto the lines and bends on your fingers.

“Moan my name for me, sweetheart, please.”

“Yes, Levi,” you breathed out in hazy desire as you squeezed your eyes shut, “I want you so bad, so fucking bad, Levi.”

“Me too, keep going, keep touching yourself and imagine it’s my touch.”

His hand continued to drag up and down his length, not being shy to pant and groan down the phone as he kept choking out constant repetitions of your name that was laced on his tongue like a chant. He was so desperate for his distance to be over; it didn’t matter that by this time tomorrow, you would be together again because he wanted you now.

He let the splutter of precum darken his boxers as he continued to squeeze gently with the right amount of pressure, remembering the feeling of your tight and snug pussy spasm around him when you came, loving it when you quivered your bottom lip when you were about to orgasm and wrap your legs around him in your shivered release.

“Ah, keep saying my name, please, I love it when it comes from you.”

“Levi, mmm, I can’t wait to see you tomorrow, Levi.”

“Can you go faster for me?”

The rhythm of your stiffened fingers quickened, continuing to let his name continuously fall from your tongue like a prayer, your pretty moans and laboured breaths causing his cock to twitch as he rubbed harder and quicker to match your fingering pace.

You continued to tweak at the hardened peaks on your chest, getting wetter and fluttering your heavy eyelids as you heard his constant and appreciated praises and groans.

“I wanna fill that pretty pussy right up, ahh~, make you beg for more and more.”

“Ahh~ ahhh~ ahh~”

You were nothing but a babbling mess the more he spoke to you about his fantasies, making it easy to lose yourself as you continued to fuck yourself with your own fingers.

“You sound so sexy, sweetheart,” he breathed out as he slightly bucked his hips upward and thrusted into his clasped hand, biting his lip and squeezing his eyes shut as he muffled groans through his chewed lips, “I can tell you’re close, come on, let go, just for me.”

“Oh, fuck!”

You gasp out with a heightened pitch, letting out a breathy cry as your orgasm takes over your senses; that coil within you unravelling and snapping out in your orgasmic release. Whimpering as you rose out of the slow crashing wave that had consumed you; looking down at your painted inner thighs from your slick over your soft skin, taking in a final and desperate breath of cold oxygen as you rode out your high.

It wasn’t long after hearing that pornographic and sensual moan that Levi soon followed suit, matching you with his own guttural groan with how he squeezed and clasped his hand down before a thick spurt of white released and spat out, pouring down his fingers.

“I can’t wait to see you tomorrow, sweetheart,” he said through deep pants that separated his words.

“Can’t wait myself, Levi.” 

taglist: @localkiss @wintrrxxo @sleazymac-n-cheesy -> if you want to be tagged in future works, check out my tallest

a/n: I've been obsessed with Levi since I was 13 and this brainrot is an everlasting one lmao. I hope you enjoy this and if you love levi as much as me, I am working on a modern au series for him, my commissions are open if you're looking for something more personalised AND I am working on kinktober prompts where there will definitely be some Levi content there. Love y'all *mwah mwah*

[tenjikyu]

𝘥𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘺 𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘶𝘦𝘴 - 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘥.

౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ bonten!executives x manjiro’s son!reader , male!reader , izana lives bc fuck it we ball & he adds character to the fic , bonten all lives together in a massive penthouse just like my rockstar!reader fic bc that’s such a fun idea , reader is a very “ ion gaf ” character , reader is not biologically related to manjiro , reader has suffered through childhood abuse , more fluff then angst , going to make a part 2 .

❤︎ the day manjiro sano found you, helpless and starved, he practically convinced himself to ignore you.

❤︎ alas, his big brother didn’t share the same sentiment, quickly walking over to you and overwhelming you with questions.

❤︎ izana talked your ear off, and all the executives present could see that you were pissed by his presence.

❤︎ deciding it would be better to just leave you be to die of starvation, he takes izana’s hand in his own before dragging him away.

❤︎ you barley crossed his mind after that.

❤︎ until he found you in an alleyway, drenched in blood that was certainly not your own.

❤︎ you were wielding a simple thin kitchen knife, and you were clearly distressed.

❤︎ looking over your shoulder, you notice the man’s presence behind you, and get in an offensive position, ready to attack need be.

“what happened?” the boy with frosted skin asked you, staring lifelessly at the rather large man that had a slice to his throat.

“he followed me back to the alleyway after i borrowed some apples from the store next to his. when i told him to leave, he didn’t.” you explain, glaring at the corpse next to you.

“and so, i had to take matters into my own hands.”

you seemed almost indifferent to the stench of blood, your eyes spoke a million words to manjiro. it was as though this was an all to familiar scenario for you.

“come boy, i’ll get you a change of clothes.” the man before you almost orders you. scoffing, you race to him and grip the knife to his throat.

“like hell i’m going anywhere with you.” you spit at the man, completely oblivious to just how dangerous he was, not that you would’ve cared regardless.

it’s a kill or be killed world, and you weren’t going to become apart of the former. not again.

manjiro only sighed, waving your hand away from him.

“come, or do you want the cops to find you? you aren’t getting anywhere dressed like that. if you’re with me, the police force won’t be able touch you.”

at the end of the day, you had just killed a man once more, and you knew deep down that the strange man in front of you was right.

there was no way you’re getting out of this alone.

❤︎ and so, you allowed the lean man to hold your even thinner wrist as he walks through the streets. it was about 10:00pm by now, and manjiro knew that his brother is probably blowing up his phone as you two walk.

❤︎ regardless, he takes you into a shady thrift shop and gets you dressed. nothing fancy, just a black hoodie with some worn jeans and a pair of 2nd hand converse shoes. not the best, but much better then the rags you were wearing beforehand anyways.

❤︎ as he made his way back to the penthouse, which could easily home more then 15 people, he finally answers his silenced phone.

❤︎ izana is giving him the usual earful about how he “shouldn’t leave without his big brother” and how “anyone could be tracking his movements.”

❤︎ manjiro only holds your little hand tighter as he steps into the place.

❤︎ immediately, 8 sets of eyes land on the two of you.

❤︎ the man with the curly white hair blankly stares into what feels like your soul. he slowly approaches you, before leaning down to his level.

❤︎ “you like taiyaki?”. his eyes crazed and still glaring into you.

❤︎ and thus, you were oddly enough, quickly welcomed into bonten.

❤︎ you were promptly fed and bathed, much to your discomfort, before being placed into one of the many spare bedrooms within their absolutely massive penthouse, right next to manjiro’s bedroom for simplicity’s sake.

❤︎ everything was a first for you, from the endless amount of food stocked in the home, to having adults around you that aren’t about to beat you senseless.

❤︎ after waking up from your first ever comfortable night asleep, you promised to yourself that you wouldn’t speak a word to any of these people.

❤︎ having your trust in the ones supposed to protect you abused and shattered doesn’t get fixed overnight, but that didn’t seem to bother any of the men around you.

❤︎ it has been 2 days since your arrival, and apart from manjiro showing you around, they seemed to mostly ignore your presence.

❤︎ you did whatever you wanted. watched TV, ate anybody’s food without a care in the world, interrupted all of the men from getting their work done and stolen an excessive amount of personal items that belonged to the executives, much to their confusion.

❤︎ some of them used the spare bedrooms as 2nd offices (apart from the one at HQ), and you used that as a way to learn more about the guys who had ripped you from the streets.

❤︎ and from that, you learned then that you were currently residing in the most dangerous home in japan, with the deadliest men in the country’s stolen goods scattered in your bedroom.

❤︎ your heart sunk when you heard someone enter the office you were in, only to find the head on bonten staring at you as you scrolled through his laptop.

❤︎ you only blinked, before slowly backing away from him, attempting to make a run for it.

❤︎ “let’s chat, (Y/N).” he takes ahold of your little wrist once more.

❤︎ fuck.

❤︎ you spent a good 2 and 1/2 hours talking to manjiro. you told him about your home life. how your mother slept around with the door wide open, and how your fathers empty bottles typically collided with your forehead if you took a breath too loud. you told him about how you had finally had enough, and murdered them both with the same knife you held to his throat only a few days ago.

❤︎ you told him about how school was a drag, and the kids there would often laugh at the marks left by your father. ‘the boy with unfortunate parents’ was your title, and you found yourself breaking the noses of the children teasing you. and so, you just stopped going.

❤︎ you told him more about yourself. how you (from what you could remember), were nine and turning ten next year, and what your interests were, heavily limited due to lack of exposure.

❤︎ not once did manjiro interrupt you as you spoke. he sat there, legs crossed and staring at you with an indifferent look.

❤︎ after you were done, he gently pulled you by the waist into his lap and ruffled your messy hair.

❤︎ “from now on, you only listen to what i say. you don’t need to listen to anyone else in the house, okay? just do as i say, and you’re free to do as you wish.”

❤︎ that’s all he says as he strokes your hair, attempting to have you drift off in his protective hold.

❤︎ and it works.

A/N : part 2 is gonna have the reader interacting with the executives, as well as the father/son relationship form between him and manjiro.

uncle izana is gonna go so hard.

[raven-dor]

everyone adores you (at least i do)

In which robb stark and his new bride get aquainted

PAIRING: robb stark x baratheon!reader

WARNINGS: fluff, new love, slight nsfw, reader is mentioned to have black hair

WORD COUNT: 2,827

The festivities had been fun-filled, to say the least, despite Catelyn having to leave before they started. Her goodbye had been bittersweet; Robb now had no adult relatives at the reception, and Y/N felt as if she was completely alone, even though she barely knew Catelyn. 

He hadn't touched a single drop of his ale, and Y/N couldn't tell if that was a good or bad sign. The night had soon ended, and they bid goodbye to their guests. Theon was the last to leave, smirking and leaning in, whispering in Robb's ear. She rolled her eyes; she had seen this before at many receptions in Kings Landing. The groom's friend would joke about the bride's virginity, and the groom would laugh, joking back. 

Robb's face went red, and he smacked Theon's shoulder. "Watch your mouth, Greyjoy."

Y/N was pleasantly surprised, her stomach fluttering at the thought of Robb defending her, even if they had just met. Theon nodded, obviously too drunk to be embarrassed. He looked over to Y/N, bowing mockingly. "My lady." 

She smiled kindly. "Have a restful night, Theon." 

Robb held out his arm. "Shall we retire?"

This is when all of the nerves Y/N had been holding off kicked in. She nodded, but from there to their chambers, she had sworn she blacked out. He shut the door, standing awkwardly by the fire. She looked out the window, fidgeting. 

"Should we-" 

"I'm not a virgin!" She looked down at the ground. "I'm not a virgin, so I-" Robb laughed. Actually laughed. She glared at him. "I would appreciate it if you didn't laugh at me." 

"It's not you, I just..." He stared at her like she had three heads. "Do you think I care?"

"Well... yes." She nodded. "Brides are supposed to be innocent." She tried to hold back her distaste for the term, though her face certainly showed it. 

He nodded. "Yes. They are. But that doesn't matter to me. Your honor shall remain intact; do not worry." 

Y/N smiled. "I didn't think this is how the night would go." 

"Oh." He sauntered over, staring at her dangerously. "And how did you imagine this night going?"

She fluttered her eyelashes, suddenly very flustered. "Well, in every nightmare, you would call me a whore and then take me without any-" Her eyes widened. "I mean-" 

He laughed even harder. "Oh, Y/N." His hand inched around her waist. "I hope the men in Kings Landing treated you correctly." His eyes squinted. "They didn't-" 

She shook her head, looking down at her hands. "No, it was-" She blushed. "It was something we both wanted."

He nodded. "Well, in any case, we do not have to do anything tonight if you do not want to." He stepped back, taking off his cloak, boots, and shirt. She tried not to stare at his abdomen, looking anywhere else but him. 

"And how do you plan to keep my honor intact?" 

He pulled out a dagger, slicing a small cut on his palm. Y/N gasped. "Robb, that is-" 

He pulled the blanket up, putting a few drops of blood on the sheets. He admired his work like he was a painter. "See? No one shall be the wiser." 

Y/N sighed. "Come here. You're going to make a mess dripping blood everywhere." 

He sat in the chair by the fire, watching her every movement. She still had her wedding dress on, which made Robb happy. She looked like an angel. She huffed her hands on her hips as she skirted around the room, utterly lost. "Where is the bandage?"

"The cupboard, just there." 

She stood on her tiptoes, reaching up. "Ah." She walked back over, ripping some off. "I'll use some to clean it and then some ale to sterilize." 

"Sterilize? Just put the bandage on, I'll be fine-" 

"Just let me help you. It's the least I can do after you did this for me." 

"You don't have any debt, Y/N. I can do something kind for you, and you don't have to immediately repay me." 

"I know. I'm simply showing affection." She huffed. "Now, hold still, this will hurt." 

He laughed. "I believe I will be fine. It is only-" He hissed. "That stings." 

She laughed. "That is how you know it is working." He stared at her, smiling as she worked. She was beautiful in this light, he realized. She was beautiful in all lights. "There, all finished." She looked up, her breath catching. 

He smiled lightly, whispering. "Thank you."

She nodded, standing up. "Of course." She looked back out the window once more. "Should we-" A hand reached around her waist, pulling her back. 

"You are beautiful." 

"Robb-" She turned around, staring into his eyes. "We do not-" 

"If you do not want this, say the words, and I will go to bed. But I-" He gulped, staring at her lips. "I do." 

She smiled, her tense stance easing. "I do, too." 

"Thank the gods." He pulled her closer, bringing her lips to his. "You are divine." 

She laughed, melting in his arms. "Robb-" 

"I love when you say my name." He pulled at the strings on the back of her dress. "I- turn around." 

"I can undo them if you just give me a moment."

"No, I want to." She nodded, turning around. He quickly unlaced her dress, pupils dilating as her dress hit the floor. 

She turned back towards him slowly, face to the ground. He grinned, staring. "You are beautiful, have I told you?" 

"Just a few moments ago." She tilted her head, teasing. "But I wouldn't mind hearing it again." 

He grinned, pulling her closer. "You will hear it constantly; I will make sure of it." He walked her towards the bed. "Now lay back." 

The morning light peaked through the window, but neither of them stirred. Well, Y/N didn't stir; Robb had been up for hours staring at his wife, smiling gently at her still form. 

A knock came off the door, and Robb sighed, leaning his head back on the bedpost. "Come in!"

She still had not moved, not even when Maester Luwin walked in rather loudly, in Robb's opinion. "Good morning, my lord; the possible steward is here for your appointment."

He nodded, his face permanently stuck in a grimace. "Very well. I'll be down in just a moment." 

"My lord." Robb waited until Maester Luwin left to look back down at Y/N and found that she was already looking up at him. She laughed, caressing her hand over his chest. "Good morning." 

He glared playfully. "And how long have you been up?"

"Since Maester Luwin walked in with iron boots." She sat up, leaning her head on his shoulder. "He walks very loud." 

Robb nodded, smiling down at her. "He does, doesn't he?"

She stood up, walked across the room to her chest, and pulled out her dress for the day. "You have a meeting." 

He just stared, grinning much too brightly for how early it was. "Can a man not bask in his wife's presence?"

"You could," she pulled her petticoat on, " if you did not have a day full of appointments." 

He groaned. "And what will you be doing all day?"

"Giving Bran company." She laughed. "Perhaps I can entertain him into waking up." 

Robb smiled. "If anyone could, it would be you." 

She huffed, looking over her shoulder. "Can you lace my dress, please?"

He nodded, rolling out of bed. "The things I do for you." 

"Robb, we have been married for less than a day. Please do not start your complaining until-" She put a finger on her chin. "Until a week from now." 

"Very well." He laughed, pulling at the strings. "One more week of bliss." 

"Thank the gods." She smiled. 

Strolling through the halls with her books and breakfast in hand, Y/N finally felt at peace with her new life. It only took one night of- She blushed, shaking her head as if the action got rid of her thoughts. Bran's door was already open, and she’d grinned at the sight. 

"You're awake!" 

He just stared at her, not bothering to say anything. Old Nan smiled at the young woman. "My lady. I was just about to tell him a story about a crow."

Bran's voice was monotone as he spoke. "I hate your stories." 

"I know a story about a boy who hates stories." 

Y/N laughed, covering her mouth quickly. "Sorry." 

"I could tell you a story about Ser Duncan the Tall. Those were always your favorites." 

"Those weren't my favorites. My favorites were the scary ones." 

Old Nan sighed. "Oh, my sweet summer child. What do you know about fear? Fear is for the winter when the snow falls a hundred feet deep. Fear is for the long night, when the sun hide for years and children are born and live and die all in darkness. That is the time for fear, my little lord when the White Walkers move through the woods. Thousands of years ago, there came a night that lasted a generation. Kings froze to death in their castles, same as the shepherds in their huts. And women smothered their babies rather than see them starve, and wept and felt the tears freeze on their cheeks. So is this the sort of story that you like?"

Bran nodded. Y/N sat beside his bed, entranced. 

Old Nan continued. "The White Walkers came for the first time. They swept through cities and kingdoms, riding their dead horses. Hunting with their packs of pale spiders big as hounds-" 

The door rattled, and Bran and Y/N jumped. Robb walked through the door, smiling at his brother. He sighed, looking over to Old Nan. "What are you telling him now?"

"Only what the little lord wanted to hear." 

"Get your supper. I want some time with him." 

She nodded. "Perhaps that is enough of scary stories today." 

Robb waited until she had left to talk to his brother. "One time, she told me the sky was blue because we live inside the eye of a blue-eyed giant named Macomber." 

Bran just stared, no emotions evident on his face. It broke her heart to see such a young boy so melancholy. "Maybe we do." 

Rob's smile fell, and he sat down on the bed beside Bran. "How do you feel? You still don't remember anything?" He shook his head softly. "Bran, I've seen you climb a thousand times. In the wind, in the rain... a thousand times. You never fall." 

"I did, though." He knew something, something he wasn't telling anyone, and Y/N had a sneaking suspicion that it had something to do with her family. "It's true isn't it, what Maester Luwin says about my legs?" 

Robb nodded. 

Bran sighed, looking at the ceiling. "I'd rather be dead." 

Robb's eyes widened. "Don't ever say that." 

Bran looked down, staring at his brother. "I'd rather be dead." 

She sighed. "Perhaps we should talk about something else." She smiled down at Bran. "Would you like to hear stories about King's Landing?"

Bran nodded slowly. "Alright." 

She leaned forward. "Anything you'd like to hear about in particular?" 

"Tell me about your parents." 

She laughed. "Are you quite serious?" He nodded once more, staring at her curiously. She gulped, putting her book on the table beside her. "Well, my parents, they..." She looked to Robb for help before realizing that he, too, had no idea what they were like. 

"My mother was very young when she had to marry my father. You know that your Aunt Lyanna and my father were engaged?" Bran nodded again. "My mother could never amount to your Aunt in my father's eyes, which caused problems in their marriage. Before I was born, my mother was pregnant with a boy, and when he was just a year old, he caught a fever. He couldn't shake it, even though he fought hard." She smiled sadly. "Very hard. He was my mother's first child with beautiful black hair. And then, when he died..." She took a deep breath. "My mother was heartbroken. My father wasn't allowed to grieve, and so he- I guess he used ale, mutton, and-" She looked at Robb, blushing. "Other things to forget. Then they had me." 

Bran tilted his head. "Do you know why none of your siblings have black hair like yours?"

She didn't know why persay, but she had a gut feeling. She had seen her mother and Uncle Jamie when she was younger, closer than they should have been for siblings. "I don't. The Lannister blond won thrice. I guess that means I'm stronger than the rest of them. My father, I guess, treats me kinder because I remind him of his firstborn, his darling boy." 

Robb scoffed. "Joffrey not good enough for him?"

Y/N laughed. "Joffrey is a wicked boy. I fear the day he rules, truly." She looked down at Bran, brushing the hair out of his eyes. "That's not to say they do not enjoy each other's company. Marriage is difficult, but my mother and father make it work. They may not be in love, but they understand each other." 

Bran huffed. "Your Uncle Jamie..." 

"Yes?"

"Is he close with your siblings?"

She nodded. "Closer than with me, that is for sure. He's very protective of them, which I appreciate. Tommen and Myrcella are good children; they need protection. Joffrey, on the other hand—" She laughed, shaking her head. "There is no saving that boy." 

Y/N smiled as Bran slept, glad that his mind was otherwise occupied. She hated that he wished death upon himself; he was so young, so full of life. Summer lay beside him, standing watch. The door opened, and Theon walked through, Bran's eyes shooting open. 

Summer growled, seemingly glaring at the young Greyjoy. Y/N cooed, shaking her head. "Summer, it's alright." 

Theon bowed. "We have visitors." 

Bran huffed. "I don't want to see anyone." 

"Really? If I was cooped up all day with no one but this old bat for company, I'd go mad." 

She looked up from her book, staring expectedly. Theon smiled. "Not including you, my lady." He looked back to Bran. "Anyway, you don't have a choice. Robb's waiting." 

She stood, leaving her book on the table. "It'll be nice, the fresh air." 

Bran rolled his eyes. "There's fresh air here." 

She laughed. "You know what I meant, Bran."

"I don't want to go." 

Theon sighed. "Neither do I. But Robb's lord of Winterfell, which means I do what he says, and you do what I say." He called out. "Hodor!"

A lumbering giant of a man walked through the door, smiling. "Hodor?"

"Help Bran down the hall." 

"So it's true." 

She grinned. "Hello, Uncle Tyrion." 

Tyrion waved, staring at Bran. "Hello, Bran. Do you remember anything about what happened?"

Maester Luwin spoke. "He has no memory of that day." 

She hissed. "Uncle, what a question." 

He sighed. "Curious." 

The young woman walked up to the table, sitting beside Robb. "Why are you here?"

Tyrion ignored him, addressing Bran. "Would your charming companion be so kind as to kneel? My neck is beginning to hurt." 

"Kneel, Hodor." 

"Do you like to ride, Bran?"

The young boy nodded. "Yes. Well, I mean, I did like to."

Maester Luwin glared. "The boy has lost the use of his legs." 

"What of it? With the right horse and saddle, even a cripple can ride." 

"I'm not a cripple." 

"Then I'm not a dwarf. My father will rejoice to hear it." 

Y/N sighed. "Uncle, please get to the point." 

 "I have a gift for you." He handed Bran a scroll. "Give that to your saddler; he'll provide the rest." He looked to Robb. "You must shape the horse to the rider. Start with a yearling and teach it to respond to the reins and to the boy's voice." 

"Will I really be able to ride?"

Tyrion nodded. "You will. On horseback, you'll be as tall as any of them." 

Robb glared in confusion. "Is this some kind of trick? Why do you want to help him?"

"I have a tender spot in my heart for cripples, bastards, and broken things." 

This only confirmed her suspicion that her family had something to do with Bran's situation. She leaned over, resting her hand on Robb's knee. "He is merely trying to help, my dear." 

 Robb nodded, looking back down to the Lannister. "You've done my brother a kindness. The hospitality of Winterfell is yours." 

"Spare me your false courtesies, Lord Stark. There's a brothel outside your walls. There, I'll find a bed, and both of us can sleep easier." 

"Uncle, please at least stay for dinner." She smiled. "I've so longed to hear of the Wall." 

He stared, his eyes softening. "Fine. But only because you are my favorite niece."