#politely incinerate yourself

[markus209]

everytime i see a batfam post that turns out to be batcest i end up wanting to give in to my murderous urges more and more

[mostlysignssomeportents]

There’s no such thing as “shareholder supremacy”

On SEPTEMBER 24th, I'll be speaking IN PERSON at the BOSTON PUBLIC LIBRARY!

Here's a cheap trick: claim that your opponents' goals are so squishy and qualitative that no one will ever be able to say whether they've been succeeded or failed, and then declare that your goals can be evaluated using crisp, objective criteria.

This is the whole project of "economism," the idea that politics, with its emphasis on "fairness" and other intangibles, should be replaced with a mathematical form of economics, where every policy question can be reduced to an equation…and then "solved":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/28/imagine-a-horse/#perfectly-spherical-cows-of-uniform-density-on-a-frictionless-plane

Before the rise of economism, it was common to speak of its subjects as "political economy" or even "moral philosophy" (Adam Smith, the godfather of capitalism, considered himself a "moral philosopher"). "Political economy" implicitly recognizes that every policy has squishy, subjective, qualitative dimensions that don't readily boil down to math.

For example, if you're asking about whether people should have the "freedom" to enter into contracts, it might be useful to ask yourself how desperate your "free" subject might be, and whether the entity on the other side of that contract is very powerful. Otherwise you'll get "free contracts" like "I'll sell you my kidneys if you promise to evacuate my kid from the path of this wildfire."

The problem is that power is hard to represent faithfully in quantitative models. This may seem like a good reason to you to be skeptical of modeling, but for economism, it's a reason to pretend that the qualitative doesn't exist. The method is to incinerate those qualitative factors to produce a dubious quantitative residue and do math on that:

https://locusmag.com/2021/05/cory-doctorow-qualia/

Hence the famous Ely Devons quote: "If economists wished to study the horse, they wouldn’t go and look at horses. They’d sit in their studies and say to themselves, ‘What would I do if I were a horse?’"

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/27/economism/#what-would-i-do-if-i-were-a-horse

The neoliberal revolution was a triumph for economism. Neoliberal theorists like Milton Friedman replaced "political economy" with "law and economics," the idea that we should turn every one of our complicated, nuanced, contingent qualitative goals into a crispy defined "objective" criteria. Friedman and his merry band of Chicago School economists replaced traditional antitrust (which sought to curtail the corrupting power of large corporations) with a theory called "consumer welfare" that used mathematics to decide which monopolies were "efficient" and therefore good (spoiler: monopolists who paid Friedman's pals to do this mathematical analysis always turned out to be running "efficient" monopolies):

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/20/we-should-not-endure-a-king/

One of Friedman's signal achievements was the theory of "shareholder supremacy." In 1970, the New York Times published Friedman's editorial "The Social Responsibility of Business Is to Increase Its Profits":

https://www.nytimes.com/1970/09/13/archives/a-friedman-doctrine-the-social-responsibility-of-business-is-to.html

In it, Friedman argued that corporate managers had exactly one job: to increase profits for shareholders. All other considerations – improving the community, making workers' lives better, donating to worthy causes or sponsoring a little league team – were out of bounds. Managers who wanted to improve the world should fund their causes out of their paychecks, not the corporate treasury.

Friedman cloaked his hymn to sociopathic greed in the mantle of objectivism. For capitalism to work, corporations have to solve the "principal-agent" problem, the notoriously thorny dilemma created when one person (the principal) asks another person (the agent) to act on their behalf, given the fact that the agent might find a way to line their own pockets at the principal's expense (for example, a restaurant server might get a bigger tip by offering to discount diners' meals).

Any company that is owned by stockholders and managed by a CEO and other top brass has a huge principal-agent problem, and yet, the limited liability, joint-stock company had produced untold riches, and was considered the ideal organization for "capital formation" by Friedman et al. In true economismist form, Friedman treated all the qualitative questions about the duty of a company as noise and edited them out of the equation, leaving behind a single, elegant formulation: "a manager is doing their job if they are trying to make as much money as possible for their shareholders."

Friedman's formulation was a hit. The business community ran wild with it. Investors mistook an editorial in the New York Times for an SEC rulemaking and sued corporate managers on the theory that they had a "fiduciary duty" to "maximize shareholder value" – and what's more, the courts bought it. Slowly and piecemeal at first, but bit by bit, the idea that rapacious greed was a legal obligation turned into an edifice of legal precedent. Business schools taught it, movies were made about it, and even critics absorbed the message, insisting that we needed to "repeal the law" that said that corporations had to elevate profit over all other consideration (not realizing that no such law existed).

It's easy to see why shareholder supremacy was so attractive for investors and their C-suite Renfields: it created a kind of moral crumple-zone. Whenever people got angry at you for being a greedy asshole, you could shrug and say, "My hands are tied: the law requires me to run the business this way – if you don't believe me, just ask my critics, who insist that we must get rid of this law!"

In a long feature for The American Prospect, Adam M Lowenstein tells the story of how shareholder supremacy eventually came into such wide disrepute that the business lobby felt that it had to do something about it:

https://prospect.org/power/2024-09-17-ponzi-scheme-of-promises/

It starts in 2018, when Jamie Dimon and Warren Buffett decried the short-term, quarterly thinking in corporate management as bad for business's long-term health. When Washington Post columnist Steve Pearlstein wrote a column agreeing with them and arguing that even moreso, businesses should think about equities other than shareholder returns, Jamie Dimon lost his shit and called Pearlstein to call it "the stupidest fucking column I’ve ever read":

https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/wonk/wp/2018/06/07/will-ending-quarterly-earnings-guidance-free-ceos-to-think-long-term/

But the dam had broken. In the months and years that followed, the Business Roundtable would adopt a series of statements that repudiated shareholder supremacy, though of course they didn't admit it. Rather, they insisted that they were clarifying that they'd always thought that sometimes not being a greedy asshole could be good for business, too. Though these statements were nonbinding, and though the CEOs who signed them did so in their personal capacity and not on behalf of their companies, capitalism's most rabid stans treated this as an existential crisis.

Lowenstein identifies this as the forerunner to today's panic over "woke corporations" and "DEI," and – just as with "woke capitalism" – the whole thing amounted to a a PR exercise. Lowenstein links to several studies that found that the CEOs who signed onto statements endorsing "stakeholder capitalism" were "more likely to lay off employees during COVID-19, were less inclined to contribute to pandemic relief efforts, had 'higher rates of environmental and labor-related compliance violations,”' emitted more carbon into the atmosphere, and spent more money on dividends and buybacks."

One researcher concluded that "signing this statement had zero positive effect":

https://www.theatlantic.com/ideas/archive/2020/08/companies-stand-solidarity-are-licensing-themselves-discriminate/614947

So shareholder supremacy isn't a legal obligation, and statements repudiating shareholder supremacy don't make companies act any better.

But there's an even more fundamental flaw in the argument for the shareholder supremacy rule: it's impossible to know if the rule has been broken.

The shareholder supremacy rule is an unfalsifiable proposition. A CEO can cut wages and lay off workers and claim that it's good for profits because the retained earnings can be paid as a dividend. A CEO can raise wages and hire more people and claim it's good for profits because it will stop important employees from defecting and attract the talent needed to win market share and spin up new products.

A CEO can spend less on marketing and claim it's a cost-savings. A CEO can spend more on marketing and claim it's an investment. A CEO can eliminate products and call it a savings. A CEO can add products and claim they're expansions into new segments. A CEO can settle a lawsuit and claim they're saving money on court fees. A CEO can fight a lawsuit through to the final appeal and claim that they're doing it to scare vexatious litigants away by demonstrating their mettle.

CEOs can use cheaper, inferior materials and claim it's a savings. They can use premium materials and claim it's a competitive advantage that will produce new profits. Everything a company does can be colorably claimed as an attempt to save or make money, from sponsoring the local little league softball team to treating effluent to handing ownership of corporate landholdings to perpetual trusts that designate them as wildlife sanctuaries.

Bribes, campaign contributions, onshoring, offshoring, criminal conspiracies and conference sponsorships – there's a business case for all of these being in line with shareholder supremacy.

Take Boeing: when the company smashed its unions and relocated key production to scab plants in red states, when it forced out whistleblowers and senior engineers who cared about quality, when it outsourced design and production to shops around the world, it realized a savings. Today, between strikes, fines, lawsuits, and a mountain of self-inflicted reputational harm, the company is on the brink of ruin. Was Boeing good to its shareholders? Well, sure – the shareholders who cashed out before all the shit hit the fan made out well. Shareholders with a buy-and-hold posture (like the index funds that can't sell their Boeing holdings so long as the company is in the S&P500) got screwed.

Right wing economists criticize the left for caring too much about "how big a slice of the pie they're getting" rather than focusing on "growing the pie." But that's exactly what Boeing management did – while claiming to be slaves to Friedman's shareholder supremacy. They focused on getting a bigger slice of the pie, screwing their workers, suppliers and customers in the process, and, in so doing, they made the pie so much smaller that it's in danger of disappearing altogether.

Here's the principal-agent problem in action: Boeing management earned bonuses by engaging in corporate autophagia, devouring the company from within. Now, long-term shareholders are paying the price. Far from solving the principal-agent problem with a clean, bright-line rule about how managers should behave, shareholder supremacy is a charter for doing whatever the fuck a CEO feels like doing. It's the squishiest rule imaginable: if someone calls you cruel, you can blame the rule and say you had no choice. If someone calls you feckless, you can blame the rule and say you had no choice. It's an excuse for every season.

The idea that you can reduce complex political questions – like whether workers should get a raise or whether shareholders should get a dividend – to a mathematical rule is a cheap sleight of hand. The trick is an obvious one: the stuff I want to do is empirically justified, while the things you want are based in impossible-to-pin-down appeals to emotion and its handmaiden, ethics. Facts don't care about your feelings, man.

But it's feelings all the way down. Milton Friedman's idol-worshiping cult of shareholder supremacy was never about empiricism and objectivity. It's merely a gimmick to make greed seem scientifically optimal.

The paperback edition of The Lost Cause, my nationally bestselling, hopeful solarpunk novel is out this month!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/09/18/falsifiability/#figleaves-not-rubrics/a>

[curvykittyyssmutfics]

The Interview

A/N: For @lacilou . I hope I got it right. Merry Christmas!

"Christ, I can't believe I'm doin this shit. Lucky I don't burn Vought to the fuckin ground for this.."

Don't give a damn if the wretch behind the door can hear my discontent as I recheck the address from a slip of paper in my hand. Probably got some young spit fuck with their head up their ass to do this shit. I can't believe these assholes have me out here in the burbs even botherin with this crap. Since when do they do private residential interviews with the fuckin talent?

Grunting confirmation from the piece of paper, I crumble it and toss it to the immaculate lawn behind me. Rolling my shoulders, head tip to the sky as I take a deep breath before giving the front door 2 hard knocks; only a few seconds go by before I hear hurried footsteps comin from upstairs on the other side.

Looking over my shoulder to make sure my driver from Vought is still parked by the curb cause no way was I going to let this shit last more than 10 minutes. Saw the perfect bar servin half off whiskey for happy hour and I ain't about to miss it for some fuckin interrogation.

I turned to face the door as it opens but God damn if seeing you for the first time doesn't completely incinerate my foul mood. The sun bounces off your y/h/c hair and y/e/c eyes, lighting them up as you smile up at me with the cutest pink cheeks. You look so fuckin vibrant, your excitement palpable. Busty chest teases me into a quiet submission, risin and jigglin a bit quicker than normal from your jog down the stairs.

Fuck, I thought I'd be dealin with a 20-somethin year old idiot wasting my time talkin about my glory days, not a fuckin goddess just ripe for the pickin. I hope to God you don't notice me gaze from your tits to your shapely hips. I doubt you do not since I'm leerin so fuckin intently; almost miss the sweet ring of your voice speaking to me as you repeat yourself.

"Soldier boy? Hi! So nice to meet you. I'm y/n."

Holding your hand out to me, fingers painted the most alluring blood red, I mentally note how they match your pretty toes in your stark white plushy house shoes as you take a step back and politely gesture me to come in.

"Thank you."

I cough to clear my throat as I enter, suddenly feeling a few seconds of anxiousness at the beautiful vixen leading me to the living room. Can't remember the last time I've felt this way just from meeting a woman for the first time.

Your home is bright and pretty, like you. The smell of you is heavy in the air, so absolutely intoxicating as I admire the inside of your abode. The drapes and windows open wide letting the fresh air waft in and I wanna put a end to that immediately; wanna get cozy in your natural feminine scent.

You're talking, showering me in praise of my latest mission and how honored you are to meet your fave hero as I stare at your ass. So hard to not get lost in the sway your full figure.

I'm sure you thought there wasn't a thing sensual about the white button up, first two buttons undone giving me the smallest peek at the top of your ample chest; and sleeves rolled up to the elbows and paired with black leggings that accentuate your perfect frame. But that was your first mistake. Your second was letting me in.

"We alone, sweetheart?" I interrupt, sitting in the seat you offer.

Clearly confused, you nod slowly. It's obvious my question throws you off and makes you think. It's silent as you awkwardly turn to the tripod pointed at us. I can hear your little heart start to beat faster and I'm actually kinda proud. Good girl, at least you know your completely helpless and at the big bad wolf's mercy. The thought makes me smirk as I watch your fingers shakily turn on the camera.

"Before we start can I get you anything? Something to drink? Think I have some bourbon in the kitchen. If not, there's definitely whisky- or water if you prefer?"

Much as I want that drink, I'm absolutely bewitched by you and don't want you outta my sight for even a second. So for the first time in my life I decline a drink.

"No thank you."

"Um.. So.. did you get the list of questions? I sent them over to Vought a few days ago. I didn't want to be intrusive or do anything to catch you off guard."

"I did."

More silence.

"Okay.. Did you get a chance to read em?"

"I did not."

It's hard not to smile at the way you nip your lips nervously, fingers wringing together as you sit in front of me. I should feel bad how I'm flustering you but I can't help it. Love the way your cheeks tint as you look anywhere but at my face.

"Eyes on me, pretty"

I want to devour you from how quick you comply. So shy but a good listener. Also noted.

"Can't interview me if you won't look at me, can you?"

You shake your head, silky hair moving to your shoulders.

"Words."

"No, sir."

"Good girl. Continue."

Gotta cross my legs and put my hands in my lap to hide the way my cock starts to chub up at your good manners. Christ, you're exactly how I like em. Can't stand the little young things from the new generation: all mouth or ready and willing to hop on whatever dick gets them clout. Love a nice mature woman; pretty but reserved and lets me do the talking.

"Just start, honey. Believe me when I say ain't nothin you can say or do to make me uncomfortable."

I tilt my head, noticin your thighs clench together a few times and take a deep breath through my nose. Oh. Fucking. Hell. You're getting wet, I can smell it. Scent so light you musta only just started to wet up between those enticing thighs. Perfect girl must like the way I tell her what to do. Or maybe its the praise? Either way I definitely plan on finding out.

"O-okay. Um, let's start with your return? How exactly-"

"Off-limits." That much Vought made clear.

"How about why you left? You were the world's hero and then-"

"Uh uhn." I shake my head.

You pause for just a second, crossing your arms before asking your next question.

"Well what about the seven?"

I raise my brow, waiting for you to continue.

"Will you be joining Homelander in the seven? If so, will that be as a teammate or replacement?"

Cheeky lil thing..

"There is no replacing Homelander; He's the hero of yesterday, today, and tomorrow." I repeat the scripted answer for what must be the millionth time since I've returned.

"Nice. Very nice response."

"Thanks."

"Who wrote it?"

Your hands pop over your mouth, eyes wide as you realize who the fuck you're talking to.

"I'm sorry. I- I shouldn't have, Soldier Boy, sir. Forgive me."

I smile at your own corrective action. I wonder if you're usually this polite or if you're just a good girl when you're frightened. I need to find out with my head between your legs. Fuck, I'm so hard thinkin bout you, pray to God you dont notice and try kick me out. Not sure I could just leave without sampling you, fuckin temptress.

"Notta problem, darlin. Don't got to be so tense with me, won't hurt you. And call me Ben. No need for that Soldier Boy shit. Though I do like when you call me sir. Can try Daddy next if you'd like." I tell you with a confident smirk.

That's gets me a fresh whiff of the juices spilling outta that hidden little patch of heaven. I breathe it in deeply, internally groaning at how my cock wont stop jerking against my palm at your aroma; not sure how much longer I can keep my hands off you.

It's so cute how you sputter in embarrasment, even with your knees clutchin together over and over. I know your doin it for some pressure on that throbby lil clit. Wonder how you'd react if I told you I could smell how fuckin wet you are for me.

"No, No sir, I.. I couldn't- wouldn't-"

"Jokin sweetheart. Please, go on."

Frazzled but ever the professional, you continue after a quick deep breath.

"Is it possible for you to tell me where you were during your hiatus?"

I only smile politely at you.

"How about we try something lighter: what was the first thing you did when you got back? Did you go see Crimson Countess?"

"I did."

"And how was that? She must've missed you dearly."

"Actually, it wasn't the romantic reunion you might've thought it would be."

"Why's that? All those years apart, I could think of a thing or 2 I'd wanna do." You say with the loveliest smile I've ever seen.

Hell, if you were my woman no way I'd let you outta bed since my grand return. Have that pussy singing for me day and night.

"Her and I had long fizzled out, 's nothin there. But had it been someone as pretty as you darlin, I'm sure I couldn't help but indulge."

Fuck, that lil blush against your smooth creamy cheeks is so sexy. Need to see it spread allover your body as I fuck you to tears.

"Have you.. Indulged often? Since becoming the infamous Soldier Boy?"

I think about your question for just a moment. Funny how quick this little interview turned into an inquiry about my dirty deeds.

"Haven't had anyone like you, that's for sure."

"Not what I asked."

"Yeah but your not asking what you really wanna know, are ya y/n? Dont be shy, pretty, shoot."

I say the last sentence just to get another dose of the fragrance between your legs and I'm not disappointed. Know without a doubt you're fuckin soakin wet by now. Your lil fists are balled in your lap, arousal seeping off you in waves as you sit stiff as hell in your seat. I'm bout to do somethin bout the way you eyein me down like you wanna test drive.

"So you haven't. You know.. Since you've been back?"

I laugh, dick twitchin at your question. Can't even say the words, just like you cant get that lil pussy to stop drippin for me.

"Have I fucked anyone since I've been back?" I chuckle.

You nod.

"No. Come to think of it, it's been longer than I'd like to admit since I've enjoyed a nice tight hole."

Guess my answer gets your mind reelin, pretty eyes leavin a searing trail over every inch of my athletic build as you ogle me openly. Fuck it. I remove my hands, legs spread as I give you a view of my dick stickin up in my pants.

My cock is so fuckin hard, bulging so big and lewd in my snug ass suit. I love the lil gasp you emit as I flex, makin it twitch for you. Mmmm, pretty lil sound got my dick startin to leak; a nice wet spot formin before your eyes.

"Wow.. It's so- you're.. Wow.."

Poor needy baby probably doesn't even realize how hungry you look, tongue peekin out to moist your bottom lip as you lean forward in your chair for a closer look. Shit, I can give you a hand with that.

Standin up and separatin the distance between us in seconds, I bend down and lean in to nose up your slender neck and whisper at your ear.

"As fun as this has been, your lil interrogation bout where my dicks been last.. I'd rather show you where the fuck I'm tryna put it now. You gone let me teach you sumn, darlin?"

Wish I could swallow your smalI gasps as I grip and massage at the warm flesh of your thighs. Fuck, how you tilt your head to give me access, shutting those pretty eyes is drivin me insane. The little catches in your breath are the only sound in the room as I wait for you to respond. Your mind seems muddled, already sensitive from the smallest touch and I'm gonna have so much fun with that.

"Sweetheart?" I skim back down to leave wet kisses at your slender neck as I slide my hands up your thighs just inches from your lil pussy, still rubbing slowly. "That what you want? Gotta use your words if you want me, y/n."

"Yes!" It's so needy, so desperate the way you say it, grippin my uniform tight in each fist. "Need you so much Ben- sir, 'm sorry. Want you to touch me so bad!"

Desperate words gonna make me cum before I even whip it out. Your so whiny as you turn your head to connect our lips. I swallow each whine as you melt into our kiss. It's so fuckin wet, so messy as you moan into my mouth like I'm already fuckin you. Most definitely the straw that broke the camels back.

I tuck my fingers into the waistband of your leggings and pull them down. Your groan of discontent as you chase my lips when I pull back to take em off completely is so cute. I love how you've become nothin more than my personal lil needy brat.

"Stop that. Sit back. Or your not gonna get this."I threaten as I step back, unzipping my suits pants, pullin out my fat hard cock and givin it a few squeezes.

Definitely gonna get this reward how you do exactly what I say, beautiful legs parting as you grip your tits through your shirt. Got me squeezin the base of my dick so I don't buss at the simple fact you ain't had no fuckin panties on underneath your bottoms.

"Take that shit off." I nod to your button up.

You do it, not bothering to unbutton a single button; opting to just slip it over your head instead. Damn I aint never seen titties I wanted to suck on more, dark pink peaks stiff as fuck from your groping.

Gotta close my eyes and hold my breath for a few seconds to gain my composure. Every ripple and dimple makes me wanna leave bites all over your smooth milky skin. Fuck, why you gotta be so damn perfect?

"Gone be an angel for me and do exactly as I say?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good girl. Spread them lips. Show me inside."

I'm wonderin what happened to my shy woman as you show me the pink of you. Pussy lookin so fat and wet, so inviting. Them ivory lips, dusted with just the smallest amount of hair, quiver as I stare at your insides flutterin; callin out jus for me.

"That's it, go head and play in it mama. Get that shit wet fa me."

Peep how your beath comes a bit faster through your slightly parted lips as you slowly swipe at your swollen clit and stare at my rigid dick. Your eyes close as you press harder, a small hiss slippin out.

"Uh uhn. Eyes on me. If I gotta say it again, ima paint the lips of that perfect pussy and leave you wantin. Hear me?"

"Yes, yes sir. 'M so sorry. So so sorry. I'll be good for you."

I should feel some type of way from how you look straight at my cock instead of my eyes as you plead with me. Shit, guess its fine; can't stop taking in your gorgeous frame either, especially with you slidin your other hand down to fuck a dainty finger into yourself. Don't even realize I've started to stroke my dick while I watch you moan loudly as you put on show.

"Fuck honey, thats it, touch that pretty lil pussy for me."

Your back arches, small pudge of your tummy jiggling as you stick your chest out. Already trembling with the sensations swirling in your distressed body. You moan out to me lustfully and add a second finger. Seems like a bit of a stretch as you wiggle your nose in discomfort.

"Pleeease Ben, touch me! Need to feel your hands on me, in me. Please!"

Ain't gotta ask me twice. I slide both hands up your thighs to reach under you and grab at the soft plush of your ass and massage roughly. Sucking your right nipple between my lips, I lather it generously before givin a slight tug.

"Haaaaah, uhnuhn- Oh my god!"

You don't need the hard suction I wanna give you, seems like just my lips around your pert nip has you shiverin underneath me. I pull off your breast with a soft 'pop' before switching to the other.

"Christ,I'msoclose! Please! Please, don't stop. Pleeeease!"

"Fuck, sure darlin? Ain't even get a chance to show ya pussy some love. You gushin for me already?"

I let go of my dick to replace your digits with one of mine. Testing the waters, I slowly slide it in and out as we simultaneously look down to watch. It's too hot inside, like the fuckin heat from the sun. That warmth on my cock is gone drive me crazy I know it.

"You fuckin chokin my finger y/n. How you gone take my dick?"

My middle finger prods at your opening before I add it to the mix, poking and scissoring at you a bit faster. Your hands leave your center to grip at the arms of the chair, nails diggin into the soft fabric. A light perspiration begins to coat your sexy frame as you bask in your pleasure.

"OhfuckBen, wait! Gimme a- aahhhhgod!"

I'm rubbing at your throbbing clit with my other hand making you toss her head back, hair spilling over the back of the chair. Your unintentionally humpin at my hands, lids low as you fight to do as I say and keep your eyes open. Such a good fucking girl, so I tell you that you are as I do my very best to unravel you from the inside out.

"Fuck you're doin so well for me. Gotta stretch this pretty puss to take my cock, honey. Still want it? Need me to fuck you good sweetheart?

"Yes! Yes, sir, pleeease! Need you so much, ohgod! Soooo good, cummin Ben. 'M cummin for youuuu!"

Can't really believe you manage to stare up at me with your eyes open wide as you convulse in you chair and cum for me harder than any woman ever has. My hands wet to the wrist, white cream oozing down my fingers as I rub your lil button and fuck into your spasmin cunt quicker than before.

"Goood fuckin girl, that's it! Bet you needed this huh, darlin? Gimme that shit, yeeeah. I want all of it."

Sounds of my sloppy finger fuck are loud as another dose spills down to your clenched ass cheeks. Get a pang of pride from how your head lolls to the side, y/h/c brows pinched as you pant.

I don't stop till your thighs snap shut, trying to escape my fingers as you press back into your cushioned chair.

I pull away, tasting you with a groan before using your juices to wet up my cock as I fuck my fist with a few rough strokes. Shit its not enough; ima have eat that lil pussy later. For now, I need to be inside you.

Immediately undressing, I notice my poor dazed angel breathing heavily thorough your cute lil nose. Your eyes finally close, knees pulled together as you tiredly run your fingers through your y/h/t hair. The small hint of a smile on your lips pump my ego; glad to know it was good for you.

Takin a few steps back towards your dark grey sectional, I sit on the carpet in front of it; back leaning against it with my legs spread. Takes alotta fuckin willpower to not stroke my dick till I buss to the sight of your nude frame.

"You okay, sweetheart?"

You give me a short nod, eyes still shut.

"C'mere then."

Ever the perfect girl, you open your eyes, briefly lookin at my cock before makin your way over to me. I pull you down to sit in front of me on carpet between my spread legs. Leaning in and peckin your cheek twice, hands grabbin a handful of your soft tits.

"Still want this? Cause once I get in, I ain't fuckin stoppin till I cream yo shit up. Understand?"

"Yes, sir." It comes out so meek as you give me a shy smile.

Aight, it's a wrap. I grab you by the throat and push you back, signaling for you to lean back on your palms between my open legs. Swiping my the head of my dick through your slit once before impatiently snappin my hips forward, piercing you on my leaky, sensitive tip.

"OHFUCKBEN!

Your wails echo off the ceiling of your living room and for the first time I'm worried someone might hear through the open window. I don't give a fuck about consequences, aint shit a soul on this earth can do to me. Except interrupt this perfect moment of me tryna get my dick into you. Your red manicured fingers dig into the carpet as you try raise up.

"Come on, y/n, c'mere. Quit tryna hop off my shit."

Letting go of your neck, I slide my forearms underneath your knees to grip you around to hold your waist firmly. I pull you closer to me, forcing you to slide a bit further on my dick. Your no match for my strength and I make sure you know that.

"Jesus, woman, you so fuckin tight. Thought you said you wanted this? Open this shit up for me then or ima make you." I growl out, using your waist to push you back before pull you back down repeatedly.

"Fuuuck- icant! 'Stoobig, too big Ben!"

Sweetheart not lying; I ain't never been small and the V only enhanced my shit. Poor baby gone have to get that pussy to swallow 8 inches at the least. (Ain't neva measure it, might be fun to do it with you after I see how much of it you can take.) Too bad I can't muster to feel an ounce of pity as I bully my distressed cock into your helpless cunt. You should count ya blessings that I'm fuckin you like this and not makin you sit on my dick till I bottom out and ride me till breed you.

"Don't give a fuck. Told you I wasn't stoppin till I was done. Take this dick y/n."

Your head snaps back, neck rolling limply at the intense pressure. Guess I'll give you a pass for shuttin those gorgeous eyes. Your sob of despair would reach the heart of any sane man; good thing I ain't one of em. You really should make sure you know someone before you let them rearrange your guts sweetheart. And after getting a taste of this pussy, I really don't wanna let another soul of the opposite sex near you.

"Ooooh fuck y/n, so glad you lemme in honey. This the best pussy I ever had in my life, angel. Mmmmfuck. Wish it was the only one. No one compares- aaaaah shit, just like that. You got it mama, wet my shit up."

Thrusting upwards while pullin you on my prick got me goin ballistic, impalin you half way as I watch your tits bounce widly in front of my face. It's feels so damn incredible, I mindlessly suck marks wherever I can reach on your breasts. Gotta make sure my small nips and sucks leave hickies that stain almost every inch of the fair skin of your tits.

"P-pleeease Ben. Mmmmfuck.. Least slow down- ahhhhh! Haven't done this in so loooong."

That gets me to pause the beginning of the savage fuck I'm tryin to get into, my head poppin up out your cleavage. A line of spit connects from my lips to your breasts.

"How long?"

"S-since.. Since my divorce." You're voice is so quiet as you stutter out your answer.

"How. LONG?"

2 deep thrust that have you squealin and me almost in to the fuckin hilt. I'm drownin in yo shit, woulda probably bottomed out if your walls would stop clutchin my cock so goddamn frantically.

"2 years, Ben! Its b-been 2 years."

Huffin, blinkin back tears and leanin forward into my solid chest; you're pressin our bodies together as you hold at me tightly. It makes my pace slow as you change the angle, grasping at me like a child does their blanket. Should fuckin feel bad at the sobs wrackin you, the sporadic spasms that have you buckin your fragile body into mine but I fuckin don't.

Can't is more like it cause my mind is reeling at your revelation. Then that meant you were a single. Would've never dreamed I'd have chance like this with an exquisite woman as yourself. The reality of this being more, without me havin to kill some poor sap, that you could be mine forever has an intense buzz building in my balls.

"You belong to me now, woman. Got that?" I demand at your ear lowly.

You nod, pussy still grappling my dick as your thick cream drips out between your glistening puss down my shaft to pool at my sack. It doesn't help you already look absolutely destroyed and I'm not even in all the way yet. Fuck, another few deep breaths as I try not to end this heavenly encounter too early.

"Christ, I don't deserve you sweetheart. I know you can't know how I know that but trust me. You're too good for me."

I try to pull my hips back but your still clinging to me so fuckin tight as you breathe heavily. Shit, no woman I've ever fucked has had me so ready to nut just from watchin her take my dick.

"Let me go, y/n." I demand through clenched teeth.

Gotta admit I'm absolutely appalled at the quick shake of your head as you swiftly decline. You've been such a good girl till now. Still.. Just gimme a reason, right?

I reach back around my neck to unclasp your arms, leaning forward slowly to lay you softly against the rug as I trap you wrist in each hand beside your head. Your beautiful thighs cage my hips, still preventin me from tearin my pussy up. I lean down near your ear to growl at you, frustrated at your lil show of defiance. My nut is right on the surface and if you make buss before I get my fill, you fa sho gone pay the price.

"Woman, if I have to tell you let me go again your gonna be soooooo fuckin sorry."

After a pause your legs slowly unhook to slide down my sides and crook at your knees, cute lil feet on the carpet as you look at me with with wide teary eyes. I'm glad my threat landed; either way I'm in this tummy but it's in your best interest not to fight me.

"Should make ya bad ass get on all 4s and take this dick, see how deep I get then. Lucky I wanna see that pretty face as I nut deep in that creamy pussy, sweetheart." I snarl at you, snatching to hold your wrist in one hand.

I grip your knee with the other, pressing to open you wider to me. The first slide in and out is a heaven beyond description. The sloppy squelch of your gushy cunt as I stab into your warmth is music to my ears; I wanna hear more of it so I speed up, smiling lovingly at the way your eyes cross and slam shut.

"Oh yeah, Right here? This the spot? Want me to fuck you right here sweetheart?"

I chuckle as you actually have the nerve to shake your head at me again. Your gaspin and I'm an absolute dick for leanin down to lick into your mouth, suckin on your tongue as you gulp for air. Plump tits pressed against my chest as your keens reach an interestingly high pitch.

"Pleee- ahhhh! Uhuhuhuhnn-cantcantcant. pleaaase!"

"And yet.. You will, honey."

I release your hands, droppin my weight onto you to keep you in place as I moan my pleasure into the air. This pussy's phenomal, got my heavy balls already drawin up taut as I pull out and fuck into you with a sharp, deep jabs.

"Beeeeeeen, ahhhhh fu- BenBenBen, please!"

"Shhhhh, sweetheart shhhh. Take it like a big girl. Shit- so good.. Mmmm.. You not gettin away till I- fuck!"

And goddamn it, if my hard work isn't rewarded! I finally bottom out; my pelvis smackin into yours roughly over and over. Might be usin a lil super strength but, fuck, I ain't tryin to. I just can't help the way I grind deep into you, dick jerkin at the feeling of you scratching down my back.

"'M fuckin you sooooo good, huh honey?"

"Yesyesyesyes!" I don't think you're even aware of your brainless chant.

Tears run down your flushed cheeks and of course my sadistic ass licks em up as I groan out at how good you feel.

"Shit woman, got me bout to lose my mind in this tight lil pussy. How you expect me to keep it together when she keep stranglin my dick like this?"

As much as you try to run, try to fight me, your lil puss sucks at me. She tells me the truth, coaxes me to drill into you ferally as I make sure to drag my pelvis against your lil button on ever thrust in.

"Fuuuck, y/n, ahhhh shi- uhn uhn uhn. 'Mazin, mmmm, so 'mazin." I groan in a slur.

Its a done deal when you shake wildly underneath me, breast pressin into my chest as you spray my dick before I can get my hand down there and properly rub your clit.

"Good fuckin girl, y/nnnn. Let gooooo, just like that. Stop fightin it pretty, mmmm shit. Shhhhh, you need this honey."

Your wordless thunderous shrieks, your pretty teary face, the clutch of your cunt.. I groan in utter relief as the feelin of your orgasm forces me into mine. My first shot of cum finally splatters the inside of your used lil pussy like a shotgun bein fired. Has me weak as I lay over you and unload. Not sure how I lasted longer than a couple seconds with you tryna milk my nut while beggin and cryin under me.

"Take it woman, yeeeees, this nut all for you pretty. Haaaaah, oh oh oh oh! Christ y/n, soooo gooood for me."

3 more thick splashes before I pull out and let the last jet rain allover your flushed swollen cunt. Smilin as I rub the thick drool of cum spillin from the tip of my cock on your sensitive clit. Fuckin soak in the way you jerk and whine while you try to close your legs, your palms weakly pushin at my muscled shoulders.

I oblige, leanin up on my knees, lookin down at your wrecked frame as you try to slip from underneath me. Smackin both palms down the side of your thighs, lovin the red print that marks your sweaty skin. I don't give you a chance to catch your breath as I command more of you.

"Quit that shit. Turn around, get on ya hands and knees." I tell you, lookin up to make sure your cams still on.

My dicks still solid, jerkin between your poor abused walls and I might want a replay when this is done. Interview ain't over just yet, pretty.

[saphirered]

Sending you a spice request from the prompts list! Steamy baths with Eris ;) can’t wait to see what you come up with!

Okay I may have gone a little filthy with this one. I'll own up to my spot in horny jail with the rest of you. 😘

It’s been a long day. The sun has yet barely reached it’s highest point and Eris is this close from incinerating the room for a moment of peace. Instead he is stuck dealing with the woes of politics, of presenting himself like an arrogant bastard, which he is admittedly but that does not mean he should let himself give in and speak his mind so freely. He has a reputation to uphold, a game to play and a throne to earn and until he sits upon it he shall play this game, however much it might annoy him to death. He will restrain the wildfire until freedom beckons. Oh how he longs for that freedom. His imagination gives him some escape and drowns out the useless words of bickering nobility. 

He may sit at his father’s side but his mind is elsewhere, far from this council room in a distant court. Instead Eris finds himself in the vast forests he calls home. The leaves crunch beneath his feet, the smell of the autumn air relaxes his mind and body. The cooling breeze turns his fingertips slightly cold and numb. He finally feels like he can breathe. There is no eyes to be wary of. There is a presence beside him, some incoherent and far too distant words and he wishes nothing more than to have those words overshadow what his senses back in the real world pick up on. He would recognise that voice anywhere. You’re right beside him. Memory replays the feeling of your hand in his, your fingers warming that gentle chill. He looks to his side and there you are, smiling. What a beautiful smile you have. What beautiful eyes. He could drown in their depth. He could be lost forever if you did not snap him out of it. No that wasn’t you. His name was called by different voice, one intrusive and unwanted. He’s pushed back to reality, away from you and he mourns the lack of your presence. The only relief his mind offers is the knowledge he will see you soon. 

You had known the promise he’d be back in your arms before you knew it was an empty one. You would never fault him for it. Eris, while a man of his word, could not control the circumstances of his extended life and responsibilities. Perhaps you might claim he was foolishly optimistic, but then again, he’s probably also aware of this fact and so it must be not but wishful thinking. Instead of a swift return to your side to watch the sunset you witnessed it on your own. Instead of a lovely dinner together you consumed your supper at the mostly empty table with the others left behind and excluded from the inter-court meetings. Not that you complain. You would rather be here enjoying a peaceful meal than deal with the bickering and moaning of idiots, vipers and idealists. You will attend if asked but will not mourn the lack of invitation. 

You’ve other means to keep busy and you are not one to sit around and wait for someone to whisk you away and so you did. You tended to the hounds, read up on the latest ongoings, socialised here and there, trained, made yourself useful, saw to your correspondence, went out for a ride, helped tend to the gardens and more. You kept busy on your own but every once in a while your mind would wander and think what your darling love would be up to, how he must be fighting the urge to roll his eyes or verbally tear apart another, how he must be polishing his shields both social and mental and weave a narrative that puts him at the advantage. You know Eris pretends it doesn’t affect him but you know the truth. You have seen him sit on the edge of the bed, his hands in his hair. You’ve watched him politely excuse himself to unleash the boiling of his blood upon some poor unsuspecting clearing. You have listened to his rambling about courtiers and high lords. You have held him when he questioned if it was all worth it. 

It is because of these things you know you do not mind the lack of his constant attention. In fact, you do not think you could bear it in the first place. So you dine without your lover, you find your own amusement come sundown. In the spirit of this time to yourself you have the staff draw you a bath. If you are to spend this night alone you will do so in comfort. A bath will ease the ache of your muscle and soothe your skin quite nicely. That’s where you find yourself now, a large bath filled with steaming water, the scent of bergamot in the air. You’ve sunken down to your neck, leaning back and enjoying the warmth. You’ve sent off the maids with the implication you will tend to yourself and do not need to be coddled by their nurturing grace. Peace and quiet and solitude, that’s what you require and that’s what you shall get. Your mind wanders far and pleasantly so. You forget the meaning of time and the water must have long since cooled to a lukewarm but you care little. 

“We shall conclude this meeting some other time.” Eris had both dreaded and longed for those words. The meeting has finally ended and so he is finally dismissed. It ended up taking another hour or so before he could detach himself from his own entanglement, before he could escape further dealings with the Night Court and turning down Helion’s open invitation to visit the esteemed libraries once more. Finally he left behind the blabbering high lords’ council and found himself back int he comforts of cool darkness graced with lantern light. The feeling of leaves crushing beneath his boots is a stark contrast from the marble and stone he’d been surrounded by for the day. He has missed the sunset but the stars breaking through the clouds offer some relief at last. 

With each step the takes, even after he walks through the threshold and back into wood and stone, the burdens stay at the doorstep, the further he gets from it, the more his body relaxes, or so he thinks. Everything feels easier. He chooses to ignore those in passing, using his power within his own court to brush them aside; nothing out of character for him. Nothing anyone can blame him for either. They expect him to be upset with another meeting ending in a stalemate waste of time. Let the court know. He will turn it to his advantage either way. Finally the portal to his comfort comes within sight and had he less restraint he might have ran and locked away the world behind him forever. Instead he slips through the doors quietly and closes them behind him. 

The candles are alight. The fireplace is but embers at this point. He simply throws in another log. A simple breath of air sparks the flames to life and allow them to catch. When the wood crackles Eris is satisfied. With whatever graces he found within him he carries himself to the bedroom, discards his shoes and socks, letting the cold run through his feet in an attempt to remind himself he is not but floating upon the winds of exhaustion. He unclasps his tailored jacket and casts it aside as if it were not the livelihood of the ones who made it. He has lost the will to care. He could have collapsed onto the bed when he first laid eyes on it but the gentle candle glow from the bathing room kept him standing. 

With a soft creak the door opens and within lies a sight beholden, a true treasure and one that should be captured for eternity. Perhaps he would owe the High Lady of Night a favour if that’s what it took to eternalise this. Perhaps the only thing stopping him is how you’d scold him for it. Perhaps he fears it might inflate your ego far past measure. Your eyes are closed. You are leaned back, head just above the water and neck fully exposed. The light graces your features just perfectly as it reflects. 

“The bed is far better suited for sleeping than a bathtub. No matter how comfortable you might look.” Eris slowly makes his way over to you. You take a deep breath and open your eyes. Your eyes. He forgets all he’s endured with but a single glance. Sadly this only lasts but a second. 

“You are quite right but I’m not tired. Just relaxed.” You let your fingers dance over the surface of the water. “You should try it some time, my love.” Even now you find it within yourself to humour him. 

“Some of us do not have the luxury to relax this much. I shall reserve and defend that right for you and you alone.” He takes your hand and brings it to his lips to kiss but then realises. “The water is awfully cold.” he simply states, still he kisses your fingertips. 

“Well I didn’t have you here to help me warm it.” The sultry look you give him has him nearly undone in that instant. How he’s longed for your company. The once certainty that keeps him from insanity in the chaos; the serenity you bring but what rushes through him right there is anything but serene and the implications you present are anything but innocent. Eris forgets the tiredness that haunted his body and finds a different spark of life. You’ve learned to light it, made an art form out of it. 

“How unbecoming of me.” He’s on his knees at the side of the tub and gently brings your fingers back beneath the surface of the cooling water. With but a brush from right where your legs are bent, all the way to just in front of your chest the water heats in but seconds, steam evaporating but those fingers do not stop trailing there. they trail a scalding but never painful path up your sternum and the column of your neck until they settle and lift your chin. That same heat burns in the kiss he plants upon your lips. Far too short. His lips pull away far too quickly and you might as well have been exposed to the frigid cold of winter then and there. By the looks of it Eris know it too. 

“If you are in no mood to assist me, I suppose I shall simply retire.” You rise exposing all the delicious curves of your body and giving him an ample view as the droplets run across your skin. Eris imagines he could kiss them all away, let his lips trail across you like they do and perhaps you shall grace him with the lovely sounds you make when he takes his lips to you. 

“You misunderstand, my dearest. But if you wish to cut short this bath I am more than willing and consenting to helping you to bed. Or we can stay here and enjoy a bath… or two.” You seem to weigh your options but simply by the way your pupils dilate; the way they do when he’s broken through your composure, to where your desire truly sparks and you will not be afraid to make him eat his words. 

You do not reply in words but simply hold out your hand and raise an eyebrow. Eris is quick to take your hand and help you out of the bathtub. You are dripping onto the floor but seem to care very little as you saunter over to the towels. The sway of your hips and sultry look over your shoulder are definitely intentional. Nevertheless you take a towel and pad yourself dry until he can’t help himself and gently eases the towel from you and equally gently uses it to pad you dry until you’re satisfied. Once you are you stand in front of him, close within arm’s reach. You trail a nail along the neckline of his shirt and sigh content. The wickedness in your eyes is but a giveaway of your next actions. Your fingers grasp onto his shirt and pull him to you, once more your lips meet his and this time the kiss is anything but soft and sweet. 

Your lips grace his in a feverish kiss. Eris does not hesitate to return the favour. He lets his hands wander until they settle on your behind. In one fell swoop you are off your feet and wrap your legs around his waist. Never once do you break your kiss. Your tongues meet and you wrap your arms around his neck clutching him ever closer. Like he has done many times before, Eris caries you out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, graceful as ever and never once stumbling. He has committed this path to memory but finally he has to break away. You are a sight to behold; lips swollen, out of breath, and eyes filled with desire honing in on him. He takes great pride in being able to make you come so undone. he lays you down on the bed and you crawl backwards to give him space to join you among the pillows. 

Eris crawls overtop, trailing a path of kisses from your calves over your knees and thighs and you think, you hope he would settle among the apex of your legs but instead he just looks up at you and trails his lips up further across the plains of your stomach. It’s difficult to resist the urge to whine in protest and by the looks of it he noticed. Still he trails up and up until he meets your lips in another desire filled kiss so you decide fair is fair and let your hands wander over his clothed chest, down to where his shirt is tucked into the waistband of his fitted trousers and let your finger slip below that cursed waistband but never enough. All you do is release the shirt and Eris decides to undo your torture by taking it off entirely with a knowing look. 

“If you wished to get my out of my clothes you could have just asked.” He muses casting the garment aside. It’s torture to keep yourself together right now and not just succumb to carnal pleasure. This is just foreplay and it’s a game you’d hoped to win but you see your chances of success fleeting. To see him on his knees before you, cauldron boil you. 

“Dick.” You curse and his chuckle does not make you feel any different. 

“You’ll have to work harder for that.” He crawls back overtop just to place a peck upon your lips. When you go in for more, you feel his hand on your neck, to keep you at bay. His grip isn’t strong or suffocating, just present, floating and preventing your lips from meeting his. You huff. 

Eris’ response to your dissatisfaction is cruelty, he knows. Leaving kisses, letting his tongue trail he takes to your chest until you cannot hold back the whimpers and moans, until you fight to hold back the beg for more, only then does he trail lower yet always too slow. But then finally, it all pays off when he descends between your legs and puts his mouth to work, licking and kissing your inner thighs inching closer to the centre, until finally he does. He does not relent, not when your breathing increases and your whines turn to whispers of his name, not when your fingers settle within his hair and hold on, push him closer. When your legs wrap closer around him he grasps onto your thighs, spreading them further while placing a hand onto your abdomen just in the right place. He doesn’t relent when he feels you shudder and shake in your pleasure, not until you come down from that high and your body goes limp for but a second. 

He keeps going and soon without a moment of rest you tumble into pure ecstasy again and again. Only when you pull his hair, pull his face away from between your legs, when you are truly out of breath and your eyes are burning, your skin is on fire and you have lost the ability to speak, only then does he relent. You guide him up, to meet his lips. He knows you can taste yourself on his tongue when his dances with yours. He knows you need this right now. It’s the only break you’ll receive, especially when he feels your hands wander down below and undo the buttons of his pants. His own arousal is undeniable and while he would be more than satisfied using his tongue to make you cry his name, you have other intentions and ideas he’s more than happy to help you see through even if it takes all his restraint not to spill at your touch and your disheveled look when he parts and you help him out of his last clothes, casting them aside he cares not where. 

You have vengeance on your mind and when he is caught of guard, when you are so close to kissing him you push him back onto the bed and straddle him. Your fingers lace with his as you hold them on either side of his head. You lean down to kiss him once more with a wicked smirk. Perhaps it would be you who wouldn’t be done with him for some time. 

[grievedeeply]

the less time the better. pt 8.

PREVIOUS | NEXT — SERIES TAGLIST

pairing: heimdall x gn!reader

summary: days have passed since the kiss you shared with heimdall, and while you try to figure out what it means for your relationship— the group prepares for war.. and suffers a massive loss.

notes: this chapter is just straight angst. sorry in advance but it was a necessary evil.... ignore any plot holes please..... and also please let me know if you want to be tagged in this series! my taglist is really old and im sure ppl have lost interest, so let me know if you want to be removed as well.

you awoke from your sleep with a jolt. you had never gotten used to the rough feeling of wood pressed against your skin as you slept. even if it was the same material you usually slept on while you were home in midgard, your circumstances were different. back then, you didn't have to worry about a war with one of the most powerful gods in the realms. you only had to worry about what to make for dinner. now, you had much more to think about. including your strange relationship with the god of foresight, heimdall.

a part of you still regretted taking his wrist in your hand that day. it still wasn't that long ago, but you wondered how different things would be now if you hadn't.

the atmosphere was tense in the house. you swore there had been maybe 20 words spoken between everyone. people looked over their shoulder, wary of heimdall's every move. in a way, you couldn't blame them. after all, he was odin's son. the son of the man who had ruined their entire lives, and he had yet to state his side. but he wasn't fighting, either. ever since he had arrived.. you noticed that. he never fought the idea of being used as leverage. after your conversation. you supposed you understood why.

ratatoskr had since found out of heimdall's presence on his tree, and he was less than happy about it. but still, he had remained polite despite his grievances. you did notice how he seemed to be around less, though. you couldn't help but to assume that was due to heimdall.

freyr hadn't gotten any used to him being around, and you didn't think he ever would. he was quieter— less himself. you hated seeing him that way.. but the vote you had made days prior was a fair one. you thought he had trouble seeing him as anything but a member of the family who burned him. he couldn't even see him as leverage.

your father jumped into gear the morning after. he was completely prepared to do whatever was necessary to protect atreus.. and yourself, by extension. you knew little of his time in his homeland. it was something he didn't speak of much, but you did know he killed gods there. he seemed ready to have to do it again, but not at all eager about it.

"none of us are safe, even here." tyr murmured from where he sat at the end of of the table. it was far too small for him, and his knees hit at the wood on the edges, but it was almost a funny sight. "so we have no choice." freya responded simply. "we find surtr, sound gjallarhorn, and bring odin to justice. now."

you glanced uncomfortably over your shoulder at heimdall, who stared blankly at the group from where he stood, leaning against the wall. you watched as his hand fell to the horn on his hip.

"you'd incinerate every soul in asgard and call it self defense?"

"does he ever suggest plans or just crap on everyone elses?" freyr murmured, leaning back against the table in the kitchen.

"the obvious plan is staring you in the face," tyr ignored him, "we don't need odin to use this. we can slip into asgard and do it ourselves, right under his nose. we gain the knowledge we need to shatter his prophecy of war once and for all."

"except— begging your pardon— you don't have a way into asgard." sindri replied.

"they got the big horn, don't they?" brok called out from their working space.

"oh, so you expect them to sneak into asgard blowing a horn that sounds across all the realms?"

"i expect you to bite my blue buttcheek!"

"please. just.. think about it." tyr said.

you watched as atreus sat the mask down on the table. you had let him look at it. he had read the runes, inspected the design.. but nothing seemed to make sense outside of that crack you had told him about that odin had in his basement. your father sat mimir down next to it.

"this mask," he started, picking it up. "the easy answers that it promises. i know this.. shortcuts always have a price."

he turned his focus to you, brows knitted together. this expression that he wore wasn't one you saw often. he was worried. "you have carried it. what do you think?" he asked.

you let out a breath. "i don't know. at best.. it's a chance." you said with a shrug of your shoulders. you didn't know what it was or what it entailed, but you knew it was important to odin. "if nothing else, it's leverage. we have something he wants. if it really gives us all the answers, maybe no one has to die."

"grand. now all we need's a way to asgard." mimir replied simply.

you watched as your father's gaze shifted to tyr, and hesitantly, so did yours. "i know i've been a burden to you all," he started, readjusting himself in the seat, "i know you've questioned why you even pulled me out of that hole. i have too."

he stood, walking around the table. something changed in his stride. you wondered where his sudden boost of confidence seemed to come from. but maybe this was what you needed. "i have too. but it's clear now. this is what i'm needed for. this is my purpose. one last time. i will pick up my spear and.. i will lead us to asgard."

"'scuse me, but if you got a way to asgard, where's that idea been this whole fuckin' while?" brok asked.

"that's.. rather a fair question, brother."

"you.. withheld asgard?" your father asked, pushing himself to his feet. something in his eyes shifted. anger. you recognized that look all too well.

"you would've gotten us all killed. and we needed to give the champion time to find their destiny. here it is." tyr picked up the mask off the table, and you shrunk into yourself. you hated being called the champion. it didn't feel like you, really.

"it's all led to this."

"if we can get inside, i'm going after odin." freya said.

"i will not stop you. we can do both."

"spot on, brother. if the mask doesn't give us an out, we'll still have the drop on him."

"works for me." freyr spoke through his food.

"let's do it, then."

"and quickly, before he sees us coming."

"he does hate surprises."

you looked back over at heimdall, who had silently gotten much closer to you while you were involved in the conversation. he stood a foot or so behind you, brows knitted together. "heimdall," you started, cutting off anyone else from speaking before they even could. "is there.. another way into asgard?"

he looked over at you, then back at tyr. his eyes were filled with something else, something you couldn't exactly pinpoint.

"no." he replied after a pause, staring at the taller god. the rest of the group only stared at him.

"i still wanna hear the details on this, uh, new way to asgard you got. spill it!" brok said after a moment. if anyone knew another way to asgard out of everyone in the room, it would've been heimdall. he wouldn't have lied, would he? was that something he would do to you after everything that happened the other night? you decided not to think about it.

"it's an ancient path. we can't reach it from here." tyr said, moving around brok to continue walking.

"where then?" he pushed, following after him quickly.

"let me collect my things and i'll show you." tyr replied frustratedly. you furrowed your eyebrows together. brok was right. something about this just.. wasn't making sense.

"you ain't got no things. and where you goin' with that mask?" he smacked it out of tyr's hand, and you watched as it went flying. "that belongs to y/n, they earned it! all you done was make passable dirt soup!"

"brok, it's okay." you muttered in an attempt to de-escalate whatever you were watching unfold. "no, it ain't." he responds without missing a beat. "this ain't right. all the pieces ain't weldin' together true. like, what's with him calling you, 'loki,' anyway?" brok asked, turning his gaze to atreus.

now that he had mentioned it.. you had never heard tyr call him atreus. he had only called him loki. the name your mother gave for him to the giants. no one had ever called him loki.

"you know that ain't his name! hey, i'm talkin' to you!"

"do you NEVER shut up?"

you watched as tyr shifted into someone else. odin. his knife dug into brok, completely tearing through his clothing and diving into his skin. the weapon was covered in his blood, and you could only watched as he fell to the floor. "brok!" sindri called, kneeling at his side.

behind you, you could feel heimdall drawing his weapon. his eyes lingered on the scene before him. this is what odin did to people. this is what he would've done to him, had he stayed.

in your state of shock, odin wrapped an arm around your shoulders, the knife that was just used to stab brok held at the skin of your neck. he pulled you backwards, and even though you resisted, you knew it was ultimately no good. would you die here? would brok?

"of all the things.." odin murmured.

"odin." your father said, anger filling his eyes.

"let go and face me!" freya called, sword held in her hand. freyr stood at her side, and atreus at the other. heimdall took a place by your father. despite the risk of your life ending, you stared at him. he was facing his father. he had his sword drawn, his brows furrowed together. this was an expression you had never seen on his face before. anger.

"tell your brother to throw me the mask, and you've got a deal." odin said.

"stop moving."

"freya!" sindri called out, eyes focused on his dying brother. you wanted to sob. you wanted to do anything but be here in the grasp of the man you hated the most.

"if he dies.."

"now, now. wasn't part of the plan. but if he dies.." odin's gaze shifted to his son. "we are square for heimdall. and honestly, you got a bargain."

"i will kill you. plan on that."

"so nice spending time with you again."

"freya, please!" sindri begged, finally looking up at her.

"ah ah ah. can't be in two places at once, frigg."

freya shifted backwards, kneeling at brok's side. freyr stepped over, and with him, so did heimdall.

"hey, i don't move, you don't move. don't do anything you'll regret."

"i regret many things. killing you will not be one of them."

"i am in control here!" odin yelled. "throw me the mask, now!"

you watched as your father's gaze shifted from you to atreus, to freyr. he threw the mask after what felt like the longest few seconds of your life, and you lurched out of the allfather's grasp. atreus leaped at him, taking the form of a wolf as he did so. he was shoved out of the way, and he picked the mask up off of the floor.

"too bad." he said, looking directly at you. "looks like war after all."

as he stepped backwards into the doorway, your father hurled a spear at him. you hadn't seen this weapon before, but that was the least of your concerns. the tip of the spear pinned the mask against the wall, and odin slipped out of view. you breathed out a sigh of relief.. but that didn't last for long. you turned around and the view of brok and sindri together on the floor only broke your heart once again.

"please, you have to save him. you have to." sindri said, watching as freya tried her best to heal him. your heart sank into your stomach. there was nothing more she could do, and brok knew it. "he can't.. you can't.. maybe if i go back to the lake.."

"stop it. i know what you done. and i forgives ya. but y'gotta stop. y'gotta let go."

"brok?"

sindri stared down at his brother, now lifeless in his arms. he looked towards the ceiling, and disappeared.

"this.. whole time?" atreus murmured.

freyr appeared at your side, extending the mask out. you stared at it for a moment, before looking up at him. you took it out of his hands, your fingers pressing against it. you hated this thing. it took everything in you to not just destroy it right now.

"so.. what do we do now?" he questioned.

"now..?" freya repeated. she paused, picking up her sword. "now we kill odin. and anyone who gets in our way."

"atreus. y/n. come." your father said.

"what? where?" atreus asked.

"it does not matter." he muttered. you had never seen him look so.. defeated. you felt it too, but he was always so good at hiding how he felt. seeing him like this only hurt you further. brok meant a great deal to him, and you knew that. he meant a great deal to you, too.

"where are you going?" freya said.

"we are done."

he walked away and you were left standing with everyone else, watching as he turned to the door. you took in a deep breath. you squeezed your eyes closed, but followed after him. you stopped after a second, turning to look at heimdall.

you pressed the mask into his hands. "i'll be back." you said, your voice coarse. your throat felt dry. you wanted to scream. you wanted to cry. you probably would. but not right now.

you turned away from him, and followed after your father and brother wordlessly.

"you can't run away from this, kratos. odin won't stop until we stop him!" freya called after him, but her words were only meant with silence.

he pushed open the door, and you stepped onto the yggdrasil.

tags: @ic-yourface @alisblackgf @engardeitsme @venfia @dijanur @s1mpss @gorepitt @callalillie15 @bluehorizon987 @vanserrar @trippingoverstars @mysiax @beaniebear152 @rei64bit @neverendingdumptser @a-bunny13 @lei-leigha @candy4bonez @yyourmotherr @blobdrake-theory @zarizee @rainygamingstreamingturtle @kise-kae @aesthetic-of-a-director @unodostrescuatrolove @nixeustheclamity @aiciteaa @multifand0m-gal0re @chibi668 @wonderkive @lentillo @luffysoctopus @elizabeth-hatake @black-star1472 @lacm-ac @sxmirae @maggot-baggage @emc2beans @suzumi-hiddenmistclan @white-lyra @lmorg149 @iamverydreamy @giornos-curls @reinabxitch @ourchampionofthesun @paintmekala @the-eternal-sunflower @alextric-overload @lynn-haitani

[yzeltia]

FFXIVwrite2024 15. Misdirection

Featuring: @biot08 's Nyx Blackmoon Characters: U'rahn Nuhn, Ahi'a, Fuyu'li cen Zwhan, Vrtra/Varshan, Azdaja, Estinien Wyrmblood, Jullus Norbanus, Alphinaud Leveilleur, Alisaie Leveilleur, U'rahn's Daughters, Kirian Summers, Nidhana, Matsya, Haurchefaunt Fortemps, Jannie Eyradoux Fortemps Expansion: Endwalker Rating: G Summary: Fuyu'li throws Ahi'a his first nameday party. Notes: Thanks to @saesama for the prompt!

“And that was Rahnald the Clown and his lovely mime wife, Nyx,” Fuyu’li said as U’rahn honked his nose and exited off the small stage along with Nyx. He swallowed, only receiving claps from Estinien, Varshan, and Nidhana in the audience. Ahi’a just yawned, sitting in young Varshan’s lap with Alphinaud and Jullus sitting next to them in party hats looking like they’d rather be anywhere else. Alisae with her arms crossed, impatiently tapping her foot. U’rahn’s own daughters seemed to be loosely paying attention, but seemed unenthused by their dad and …moms’(?) performance, more interested in bothering G’raha Tia’s son Kirian as he did his best to not look bored. Jannie with little Huarchefaunt on her lap gave her best polite smile as her boy cooed and bubbled.

Fuyu’li was no good at this sort of thing, or so he thought. He’d begged Natsu to come help him but it was her day off from the day care and she only had so many days left to spend with Drowning Thunder before the waning moon came. Still, she did come up with a solution for him. Easy to do magick tricks that didn’t rely on actual magick. Taking it from there, he improvised a little act. Plotting had been easy, now standing before everyone he felt like he might give up the ghost.

“Ah. Now, before we have some of Ahi’a’s nameday cake! I, the Great Fuyu’li will perform feats of magick with the help of my assistant Azdaja,” Fuyu’li announced, Azdaja swooping down with a glittering tulle cape as she was announced. “Now then. For my first trick, I’ll take these flowers and make them disappear,” he said, whipping out a bouquet from his sleeve before drawing up his cape and letting Azdaja incinerate them with her breath. “Voila!”

The group clapped lightly, Alisae rolling her eyes and shaking her head. Fuyu’li flicked his tail, getting a better response than the last act. “Alright then! For my next trick…I shall pluck a gil from behind an ear,’ he said, coming down to stand in front of Estinien. Fuyu’li reached forward then pulled his hand quickly, revealing a gil to the man.

“Fury! How did that get there!?,” Estinien breathed out, grabbing his ear then tilting his head, the children giggling as he tried to shake out any lingering gil. 

“Um…,” Fuyu’li started, unsure if Estinien was humoring the crowd or not. “Now, I shall turn your attention to this vase full of beautiful crystal blue spring water” he began, stepping back as Azdaja slowly pushed a cart into the middle of the pavilion using her forehead. Upon it, a vase was filled with blue water, dyed of course, but he assumed the children wouldn’t know. Taking some cute white dahlias, he waved them around before putting them in the vase. “Prrresto chango,” he purred, waving a little wand before tapping the flowers as they started to soak up the dyed water.  

Most of the children looked on in amazement, Estinien leaning forward on the end of his seat as he narrowed his eyes at the flowers. Beside him, Nidhana giggled in delight at his amazement over the simple trick. “What foul magick is this? I do not sense him using aether,” Estinen said.

“Explaining it would ruin the trick,” Nidhana said. “Though if you are still curious after, I will show you how to manage such a feat yourself.”

Estinien narrowed his eyes then leaned back with his arms crossed, watching Fuyu’li carefully. On the stage, Fuyu’li swished his cape then spun around, making Azdaja seemingly vanish from view, tucking under his arm. “Now! For my last trick! A feat no Garelean has ever done before! I shall breathe dragon fire,” he said, before leaning back, keeping a side profile to his captive audience before opening his mouth and letting Azdaja peak up beside his cheek to blow fire.”

The children clapped, Ahi’a even swooping up to give a scree of delight at the special feat. Estinien meanwhile looked stunned while Nidhana and Alisae shared a look then started to laugh. Alphinaud sighed, looking over to Jullus apologetically who patted his thigh reassuringly.

Fuyu’li satisfied took a bow, letting Azdaja fly from her hiding space to go join her brother and nephew. “Thank you! Thank you! Now, let’s have cake,” Fuyu’li sang out as Matya wheeled out a large fish shaped cake with a 1 drawn on it.

As the kids cheered, Fuyu’li wiped his brow sitting beside Jannie. “I worry that I am ill suited for this.”

“You did marvelous. At the very least you captivated Estinien. I might have you do Haury’s nameday when it comes around…if just to tell Rahn that I’ve already booked entertainment,” Jannie said, smiling weekly over at Nyx as they stared back at her.

“I do not think I want to make a career out of this. If anything, it was more for Varshan. He’s never had a proper nameday, so I think he was living a bit vicariously through Ahi’a,” Fuyu’li said, watching Varshan try to juggle three plates of cake in his small arms for his sister and son. “It was so long ago, I do not think he knows when he was hatched.”

“Perhaps then we should throw him one proper,” Jannie suggested.

“A nameday for the Satrap? Oh! The whole city would celebrate,” Nidhana said, joining in on the conversation as she joined, picking at the strange cake before taking a bite, seeming to not find it offensive. “Let me know what you will need help with.”

“Garlemald, too, would offer help for a celebration where we could. Thavnair’s aid to us has been essential to rebuilding efforts,” Jullus said, leaning over with Alphinaud nodding in agreement.

“I am sure the Scions would like to join in on the festivities as well,” Alphinaud said, “When is the date?”

Fuyu’li shrank as the group started to talk among themselves about the nameday party he was now apparently in charge of planning for Vrtra, whimpering a bit having barely gotten through the one for his hatchling son.

“Don’t worry. I will come and help,” Jannie said, taking Fuyu’li’s hand and giving it a little squeeze. “And I’m sure he’ll be happy no matter what we come up with.”

Fuyu’li blinked, looking at the Warrior of Light’s hand before letting a little sniffle from the kindness shown by her, heart swelling a little from her kindness. He gave a smile then nodded, looking over to Varshan as he laughed with the kids as U’rahn tripped on his oversized shoes and fell forward, landing face down in his piece of cake. “I think that, with everyone’s help, we can really make something special for him. Let’s do it,” he said, smiling at everyone with a renewed energy for the party.

[theycallmeratt]

Philomeen Writing Reference

Working on giving Philomeen some spoken lines for this fic, so here's the research

Overall - a gnome previously enslaved by the duergar. Prior to that, she was a sapper (combat engineer) following Wulbren on his quest to restore the Ironhands using a lost recipe for runepowder. She's has a lover, a gnome named Laridda, who she breaks up with. She starts out very hostile to the player, because she's got the only barrel of runepowder they know of, and Wulbren (who knows the recipe) has been captured.

Note: A lot of the gnomes in game are very blunt, but Philomeen is extra blunt. Dev notes regularly describe her as tough, matter-of-fact, annoyed. As Gale says, "She has a heart made of stone, this one - that only smokepowder can break." She is a zealot extremist dedicated to Wulbren's cause. There are a lot of parallels between her and Wulbren.

Nicknames: Phil (Laridda and Thulla call her this)

Personality/Beliefs:

Speaks in extremes:

Better to die in this shit-heap than rot in Moonrise.

I'd sooner walk the Hells than be tortured at Moonrise!

Values action:

Laridda should've shown some backbone instead of sitting there waiting to be rescued.

I'd gladly incinerate this entire basement and everyone in it if it'd mean taking out the Gondians once and for all.

Friends? Cowards, more like. Gave them a good blast as cover, and they sat on their bony arses. Done for good with them.

Words. I'm about more than that.

Values The Cause above all else

I need to bring it back to Baldur's Gate. I'd rather my clan were with me, but... The mission comes first. 

Get moving, the lot of you - if we get caught, Wulbren will've died for nothing. - said if Wulbren dies. Dev notes add, "Harsh; values the cause more than Wulbren himself"

Now we can both focus on what's actually important - taking out the Gondians - said in response player asking about Laridda

You want to waste runepowder on - - said in response to "Beldron's trapped - I need the smokepowder."

Philomeen's dead - it's what she always wanted. To die for the cause - Laridda says this about her in act 3

"Wulbren has a way of attracting true believers - his quest for runepowder was the latest dream he stuffed in our heads" - Beldron says this about her if she escapes with the smokepowder

"... a sad end. But a fitting one for a true believer. When Wulbren claimed that runepowder existed, she was the first to volunteer." - Beldron says this about her if he learns she blew herself up

"Phil... of course she did. Diehards for the cause, both of us. No cost too great, eh?" - Thulla says this

Big "gives it right back as hard as she can" energy

 I knew I couldn't trust you. Do it, then. Make it hurt. - if you say you'll kill her

If you call her mad, she says, "Damn right, pecker"

Dialogue

General - foulmouthed, creative in her insults, abrasive. Uses contractions but doesn't shorten words.

Phrases:

I swear to Ironhand

Shut your mouth, hoon, or I'll shut you down

What's to say?

Drops several gnomish words

Try me

Look, --

Huh --

Make yourself useful or make yourself scarce

You stick around like smokepowder stink.

It is over!

You know nothing of me

The whole damn reason

Gaerdal Ironhand, hear me now - set me free! - said as she's going to kill herself

Gaerdal Ironhand, I have lived for you, and now I'll die for you!

She uses this speech pattern several times: [Says a thing]. [Repeats the thing but in a different way]. She also likes to play with phrases

We need this powder to a prove a point. To people who really need a point proven to them.

I'm getting gone.

Shut your mouth, hoon, or I'll shut you down.

I go where there's shit to stir.

Uses some phrases often heard of in modern political speak (which I think mirrors her zealousy well)

 you'll be on the right side of history

We're freedom fighters

Compliments: None. She does call the player character "Not a stranger - a friend." in act 3 if Wulbren is there.

Placeholders: None

Insults

Bootlicker

Pecker

You prick

genius - sarcastic

Cult-nutter

Prickslit

Nutter

Rat

Cult-goon

Curses:

Damn

Damn right

Godsdamned

Cultist arse

Bugger it all

Gnomish terms:

Drugh

Drugning

Hoom - outsider. Offensive

Relationship with Laridda:

In the notes, Philomeen is "HiddenGnome" and Laridda is "GnomeWorkerDaffy" but I don't know if "daffy" was an old name or descriptor.

Philomeen's relationship with Laridda is heavily one-sided, with Laridda far more invested than Philomeen is (Philomeen says, "Beloved? I might have been hers. She sure as hells wasn't mine."). Philomeen ends up breaking it off.

Philomeen asking you to handle ending their relationship:

You see Laridda at the dig? Tell her I'm dead. Impaled, half-eaten... I don't care - make up a story.

Laridda, before you free her, threatens you if you say you're going to kill Philomeen. She also vows to find Philomeen.

If the player frees Laridda but tells her Philomeen is dead, Laridda breaks into tears and says these lines (depending on conversation paths)

Gods no. It wasn't supposed… to be like this…

What? No. No - it can't be. That's not... that's not... *sob*

I was right about you. Drugnin' monster. You... you...

Blow the wall open. Or don't. I don't care anymore.

Just get away from me.

However, if you tell her that Philomeen said to move on, she gets pissed:

Move on? I gave her everything. And she has the gall to send you to break me? Get us out of here. All of us. And hope for her sake her path never crosses mine again.

If you say you haven't found her:

May Ironhand be with her.

In act 3, Laridda says this about her:

"She's made it quite clear she doesn't want me around. When I think about it, I'm not sure she ever did - I was foolish."

"Philomeen's dead - it's what she always wanted. To die for the cause. I wish she'd spared a thought for me."

Philomeen says this about Laridda in act 3 if Laridda is dead:

"But Laridda should've shown some backbone instead of sitting there waiting to be rescued. That's why we never would've worked - and why she wasn't cut out for the Ironhand clan."

And if she isn't, Philomeen says, "Laridda? She was a bit surprised to find out I wasn't dead, to put it mildly. Then angry." The dev notes she's "trying to recall something unimportant".

[cosmicswritings]

Starscream is filled with surprises, that is no shock to Optimus. Yet when Optimus gets an emergency message from Iacon, stating that Starscream has fallen ill, the Prime is subjected to the Seeker's greatest surprise yet. One he is all to eager to tackle with his esteemed Chancellor.

__

It wasn’t that Optimus minded returning to Cybertron, it was after all his home. No matter how accustomed he was to Earth, he had a born on Cybertron and that was where his roots were manufactured deeply.

Returning wasn’t his concern.

Returning on short notice however, with an emergency call from Windblade on the other hand…that was concerning. Especially when that emergency call had to do with none other than Starscream. 

Optimus did not need to be told twice.  

One moment he was on Earth, the next he was walking through a ground bridge into the main hall of Iacon. His spark was flustered, for many reasons. In the past, an emergency comm regarding Starscream would’ve infuriated him. Optimus didn’t hate anyone, but back then, Starscream had evoked an emotion so similar, that it might as well have been hate. He detested to admit that there was a part of him that wanted to catch Starscream in the act of something mischievous, for it meant he and the others had a valid reason to kick him from office.

However, those days never came. Not in the ways Optimus would want them too. 

Instead, he found himself frequenting Iacon more and more as political tensions rose and unintentionally that put him in the same visual path as Starscream.

He loathed it at first, they both loathed how much they needed to work together in order for this new cybertron to thrive, but they did it anyway. Unsurprisingly, the more time they were stuck with one another, through paper work, banquets and luncheons, something else had grown. Something so foreign.

When Starscream was not attempting to be sly and lucrative, and when Optimus was able to rest around the former Decepticon, things changed. It was as if in those months, there was a bit of vulnerability that paved the way into something else. Something different.

The nights Starscream was drunk on highgrade, and he’d fall asleep against Optimus’s arm with datapads and papers on the floor, were when they were the closest. Starscream would tell Optimus his deepest fears and desires, and in turn, thinking Starscream’s memory to be cloudy given his intoxication, Optimus would also indulge.

He was also insecure about his life, he hated being a prime, he hated what this war had done to him. And Primus, he never told anyone that. No one except Starscream, and it felt liberating.

He thought those nights Starscream would forget such vulnerability, and when the sun rose in the distance it would incinerate the essence of those long, late night conversations. And for a while, he believed that. He believed that Starscream was unable to recall such discussions.

That was until one day, midday, sober and alert, did Starscream bring them up.

“You aren’t the only one who regrets the choices you’ve made for yourself, Prime.” Starscream had said. “I suppose you are unlike me in some areas however. I was selfish in wanting this, if only to show Megatron I was better than him, and what a piss poor leader I have turned out to be. You on the other hand, are innocent, and there is still time to save yourself.”

That started something that could not be extinguished, a flame hotter than the allspark itself. Meetings for diplomacy turned into late night visits. Late night visits erected into more; lips clashing, servos tangled, Starscream’s legs wrapped tightly around Prime’s frame, nails digging into his back, as he bore himself into the chancellor.

It was then, the two knew they were either in love or doomed , or both. So therefore, the two committed to each other. In secret performed their ritual, and officially became Conjunx Endura. 

That was a few years ago, and Optimus kept a healthy communication between he and Starscream, going back to Cybertron every so often to see him and to of course, interface. Optimus himself did not think much of interfacing, however, it was a different feeling when he was in love, and Starscream just drew him in.

However, as happy as he was to be returning to Cybertron, worry seemed to flood his systems instead.

“Starscream has had fainting spells, and this morning he was so lethargic, he was barely waking up. He couldn't make it to his speech. We’re afraid he was poisoned or something–”

That was all Optimus needed to hear. Truth be told, he was waiting to hear Starscream's speech televised on Earth, he was worried when he heard of the cancellation. This just made him more anxious.

One moment he was on Earth, the next, he was pacing down the halls of Iacon to meet Windblade. She wore a multitude of expression when she saw him; some of surprise, some of shock and then of course, mischief, that was strange.

“Starscream?”

“He’s in the medbay. The Velocitronian Senator, Knockout, is looking over him. This way Optimus!”

There was no need to lead him, Optimus was already on his way to the medical wing. He hated to be so short with Windblade, but something seemed off about her, as if she knew something. Pushing that thought aside, Optimus had reached his destination. Windblade had caught up with him, opening the door to the small private room.

To Optimus's relief, Starscream was there, sitting up. Knockout had a scanner over him, clearly checking his temperature and his vitals. He jumped a bit when Optimus stepped through the threshold, blue eyes wide with worry. 

“Thank you Windblade, I'll speak to you later, you may go.” Starscream spoke, sharing a smile with her as she left.

“Starscream.” Optimus breathed, worry in his voice.  

Starscream’s expression shifted rapidly. Before Optimus entered, he seemed fearful, with a an offset of happiness. However, the moment Optimus stepped through the threshold, his face contorted into the usual, sly demeanor that was so natural to Starscream.

“I see you wasted no time coming here, Optimus Prime.” Strascream regarded.

The tone in his voice annoyed Optimus, and he rolled his optics. “Starscream, I had matters I was attending on Earth. What is it you called me for?”

Knockout looked at Starscream and then Optimus. “I’ll give you two some privacy.”

read the rest on ao3 :D

[tobiasdrake]

Tell me about security, Makoto. This is going to be useful information, I'm sure.

Right, you were telling me that before. This is the front chamber. We can just sorta walk in, and from here we can use this intercom to buzz Huesca, for business purposes or to irritate him for fun.

Fascinated by the couches on either side of the room. What possible function could this room serve that necessitates cushy reclining opportunities? If anything, I'd think they make it easier to hang out for a bit and wait for Huesca to come out so you can harass him in person.

Is that why he stopped leaving the lab?

Okay, but why tho.

No, I get that. You go through the door and the deadly killing machines turn you into swiss cheese. Huesca was clear on that point.

But. Like. Why not lock it anyway? What's being accomplished by not locking it? You said Huesca hasn't left the lab in months so it's not like it'd inconvenience him to lock the door. What's the purpose of leaving it unlocked?

Did your evil lab architect accidentally forget to put a lock on this door? So now the deadly trap chambers are the Villain Lair Design equivalent of brushing yourself off from a faceplant and going, "I, uh, I meant to do that."

Went so hard on designing the three deadly trap rooms that one of them isn't actually a trap at all; It's just there to insulate the rest of the lab from the fucking traps.

Y'all know there are a copious amount of deadly traps that don't get bored and wander? This seems like an unnecessary risk to take.

Weird judgment call to make. Any intruder that manages to penetrate this deep into y'all's business is worth interrogating. Can't interrogate a corpse. Huesca seems more concerned with weird spite than his own self-interest.

...given our brief conversation with the man, that checks out.

So you'd need to go full scuba to get past the gas. Can't trust a filter; You need a fully-sealed oxygen supply.

And not just the mask; We're talking full diving suit. Big goofy helmet and everything.

*snaps fingers* I've got it. Shachi killed Dr. Huesca. Case solved. :P

So. It's. Like. Most gases, then. I guess that can be considered a failure, sure. Huesca's in there kicking himself for not managing to create gas that retains its shape indefinitely.

Which means a Person of Interest could be killed by this room but still go on to do things that will affect the case before they go. We need to keep that in mind.

The hell does that mean? What kind of offensive capabilities does a room full of death deep in your facility offer? Do you hand out invitations to political enemies like, "Hey, come get state secrets, they're in this one specific room! It's going to be left conspicuously unguarded because it's Yomi's birthday and everyone's off celebrating! Now's your chance!"

What kind of hideous Resident Evil dystopia is poor Fuckboy working in? Even though the lab is guarded by the ultra-deadly super-gas emitters, you still have to play laser Simon to even enter the lab.

Why is the keypad the floor? That's so obnoxious. This hallway was designed by rich assholes with no concern for the employees that would have to work here.

...so, Amaterasu, basically. That checks out.

Which means there's no password reset if he forgot it. Maybe that's why he never leaves the lab anymore. If he admits that he should have written it down somewhere, he'll lose the bet and have to pay Yomi 3,000 shien.

Definitely safer to stay in the lab forever and normalize shitting down the garbage chute. It goes straight to the incinerator; It's fine. Huesca lives here now.

He's lying to you. He wants to kill intruders for funsies. Severity of punishment doesn't act as a deterrent; Likelihood of getting caught does. As much as I hate to give Yomi credit for anything, the officers patrolling the halls are doing more to deter intrusion than a secret gas chamber they wouldn't even know about until it's too late.

Huesca is one of those guys who buys a semiautomatic rifle and the highest caliber ammunition he can find "for home defense", then gets excited and breaks out his gun every time the house creaks. He'll swear up and down that it's for self-defense, but the way he gets that gleam in his eye when he talks a little too-enthusiastically about the kind of damage his weapon can do is a bit unsettling, isn't it?

I just assumed. It'd be a pretty shitty deathtrap if the gas chamber's activation immediately flooded Huesca's lab and killed him dead on the spot.

Do you have to clear all nine? Like, step on every panel, but in a specific order? Because if so, there's a very finite number of combinations that are possible.

Oh my god he has a bathroom with a washing machine and everything. I thought I was joking but no, he really did move in permanently.

Well that's anticlimactic. So this lab is immensely lethally secure but only so long as there's someone in it. If the doc steps out for five minutes, you can walk right on in and wait for him.

Maybe that's why he stopped leaving. He realized that the security features only protect the lab when he's inside of it; A fatal error in its design that he doesn't want to own up to.

And there we have the answer to the mystery of the couches. They are, in fact, for lounging around and waiting for Huesca to come out so you can harass him with nonsense. A favored pastime of Makoto's.

Look at how this couch is perfectly sized to his exact proportions. This is Makoto's Harassing Couch.

So he was told to stop working on something, so naturally he sealed himself in his lab and worked tirelessly as you do when you quit a project. That's what you're going with, Makoto?

Come on, man. You're not this stupid. Well, at least we now have the full details, so we can--

Deal with whatever this asshole's on about now. What's up, man? Did you finally remember you were supposed to have me buried in the backlot behind the office? Too late now, I've already met your fancy researcher. We're friends now.

You can go ahead and ask him but you'll have to phrase it in ten words or less. Given how much you love the sound of your own voice, I'm not sure if that's something you're capable of.

[thethief1996]

I hate usamericans so much this is not a latam election where you're picking between a populist candidate and a right wing candidate. The man in charge has sent shipments of 2000 pound bombs to incinerate children for well over 30 years now and you guys are upset that people have qualms about that. Like the democratic party is not being forced at gunpoint to put Biden for the vote. You just have no political leverage and Biden let's you ignore that instead of crassly shoving it on your face like Trump did. That's it. Biden let's you live the life of blissful ignorance Rachel Corrie describes in her letter. Why are you not angry and searching ways to radicalize yourself instead of patronizing people who are having the normal reaction to this situation?

[fuckthisshitimin]

Okay wait. My first thought was "those knives are cool but if someone is gonna spend a fortune on a knife for me I'd rather they get me a chinese cleaver or a santoku" and okay. Type of knife has meaning.

Proposal knives and wedding knives aren't the same, as wedding knives are to be forged together but for proposal knives:

Fighting knives

Traditionally given by travelers to their non-travelling partners. It is also a common engagement knife during wartime.

Meaning: "I want to be your strength"

"You give me hope"

Cooking knives

Historically associated with working and middle class.

Meaning: "I want to be your home"

"You are my future"

Pocket knives

Traditionally given to travellers by their non-travelling partner, or if both are to travel apart from each other.

Meaning: "I want to be with you always"

"You are my world"

Ornamental knives

Long associated with the nobility, industrialization and the loss of perceived value of usable knives made them grow in popularity.

Meaning: "I want to watch (over) you"

"You open my eyes"

Hunting knives

Mostly common in rural communities, often seems to fall out of popularity but tends to regain meaning and use in recessions.

Meaning: "I want to work with you"

"You are my partner in all things"

Now for the wedding ritual.

One thing about rings is that they are visible and knives can't always be (don't know how weapons legislations keep up with this), so maybe being unmarried is what is visible: I offer a ribbon over one's neck, a closed circle meaning you are for yourself. (I think the ribbon would likely fall out of use at some point, and might be reclaimed by some aros/aces later)

As a show of absolute trust, spouses hold wedding knives to each other's throat and simultaneously cut off the other's ribbon.

(yes, some political assassinations were carried out like that. Maybe Judith beheaded Holofernes not in her tent after the wedding but during the ceremony. Or maybe she didn't and the duality of earning his trust by offering her throat/not cutting his and her beheading him later on is a whole motif)

A last thing.

A married person must be buried or incinerated with their wedding knife through their heart, so that their soul finds their spouse in the After. The widower is the one to plant it here, and when the widower dies in turn, either witnesses to the wedding or officiants carry on that purpose. If the widower remarried, their widower has to put both knives through their heart, and refusing to do so is a great disrespect.

Blue Beard's last wife had a great many knives to push through him and maybe she had too much fun stabbing his corpse.

Before gay marriage was legal, we vandalized morgues and pushed a knife between our own's ribs. There was this lesbian mortician, during AIDS, they threatened to take away her license but nobody wanted to touch these bodies - she was an angel amongst many and held so many shaking hands when they stabbed goodbye. One man had so many lovers they said it was never gonna fit, it was gonna be gory and wrong as everyone said they were, but she found them the thinnest knives and they all fit and it was a lot but she said it was beautiful his body went away with so much love it could barely contain it.

I'm making myself emotional.

Time to deflect.

The knifeplay porn in this universe must be wild.

I am a little high but what if people proposed with beautiful, intricate knives. Ladies would gather around the table and be like “guess what finally happened!!” And pull this beautiful, intricate dagger out of her purse and all the other ladies would gasp and congratulate her

[mikeo56]

“If you don’t vote for the Baby Incinerators with Blue Hats, you’re helping the Baby Incinerators with Red Hats!”

But I oppose incinerating babies.

“Look, those babies are getting incinerated no matter what, so we need to worry about the ones with red hats, who are WAY worse on other non-baby-incineration-related issues.”

Don’t you think it’s kind of obscene and horrifying and nightmarish and dystopian that you find yourself saying those babies are getting incinerated no matter what instead of trying to make them all stop incinerating babies? Like, how is the fact that both mainstream parties in this country want to incinerate babies not the main topic of conversation here?

“Our political system isn’t perfect okay? Do you really want to miss out on some sweet student loan debt forgiveness from the Baby Incinerators with Blue Hats just because they like incinerating babies?”

I kinda think the whole baby incineration issue is a lot more urgent and important than that though.

“Damn it dude, you need to be realistic! OBVIOUSLY the Baby Incinerators with Blue Hats can’t just stop incinerating babies, they’d lose the support of the baby incineration lobby!”

Oh my God but WHY is there a baby incineration lobby?? Why is incinerating babies a thing at all?? I feel like I’m going insane listening to the Baby Incinerators with Blue Hats argue back and forth with the Baby Incinerators with Red Hats about who’s got the stronger immigration policies, when they’re both openly campaigning on the policy of continuing to incinerate babies! That’s the main thing! Can’t we fight them on that??

“After the election, dude. After the election. We get the Baby Incinerators with Blue Hats into office, and then we push them toward perhaps considering incinerating fewer babies. In their last debate you saw the top blue hat acknowledge that far too many babies have been incinerated. That’s a start!”

I don’t want them to incinerate ANY babies though!

“Okay well that’s just ridiculous. You’re an extremist.”

Oh yeah well I think incinerating babies is what’s extreme.

“You can’t just incinerate zero babies, dude. We have to be politically pragmatic. You really gonna let your fairies-and-unicorns, pie-in-the-sky idealism get in the way of our comfort here at home? You might get slightly worse healthcare!”

I don’t even want to talk about this! I just want to talk about the huge, glaring problem that we keep seeing babies tossed into giant incinerators no matter who gets elected. I’m choosing to make that problem the area of my focus, not whether the people incinerating them happen to wear blue hats or red hats.

“So you’re, like, what? A fascist then? Some kind of Russian agent?”

I think I’m just normal. I think I’m just a normal person born into a crazy world where babies keep getting incinerated and everyone acts like that’s fine while arguing about immigrants eating cats and prisoners getting sex change operations.

“Okay well you’re gonna feel like a real jerk when the Baby Incinerators with Red Hats get into power and your healthcare deductible goes up and they’re still incinerating your beloved babies anyway.”

No I’m pretty sure I’ll still just be focused on trying to fight the system which says it’s okay to incinerate babies.

“Whatever, stupid commie.”

-Caitlen Johnstone

[the-firebird69]

Ford Ranger stayed in its lane 🇺🇸🙌 #truck #ford #fordranger #politics

They're doing this for about 10 miles it's extremely aggravating you people think this is a playland and nothing means anything but you're going to get killed people do not want to see this stuff here and you're out of line it's not a foreign country they say and here you are treating it like one and that's what the people in the states are saying we're going to get you piece of s*** and they're going after the trumps at the 10 Mile Mark they were intercepted by military style police who push them off the road grab them out of their vehicles and threw them into a prison truck and took them away and they're all dead and they were incinerated this morning

Thor Freya

And we had them do it and we're sick of you and we're going to do that to anyone who does that from now on

Mac Daddy

I guess we shouldn't say anything but this is what's happening and it's not the person posting it he's saying this is what is going on and we should not be harassing the president like this it is resulting in our deaths and we're doing it because the computer is probably having us do it because Dave wants us all dead before he comes back it makes a lot of sense he said something to Sarah did the computer is having her be famous and be Queen and me be king and they're going to take it over it makes a lot of sense and while they're out the program is building weaponry on Saturn

Trump

You don't believe it's Mac but I've been testing it is true this thing is having me be a superstar and create routines for me having me at correctly and it's not them it's because she wants to take my place because I kept saying it to her this is going to be awful and it's revenge and he's been saying it too and he also says don't do it to me you're being a lot of trouble we're doing stupid s*** it does come back to us but what they're doing is way way past it this is some incredible stuff and I should probably tell you but it you know

Taylor Swift

Olympus

I have a story about that dick hole yeah you Trump you're f****** stupid and yeah you yourself you get executed.

Carry hand was Paris Hilton and I asked her the prom and we went there and I thought it was my grandma later and it wasn't and she ripped a dress she just stoned or something it was pissed at me and then start dancing with BG and who knows what happened after that but I didn't leave with her or anything and Robin good friends who was actually my wife showed up so yeah it's a three-way circus cuz she came with BG and I was so mad about now and she's laughing cuz I'm saying it now that's a disaster here this place is a mess but I tell you that's the church and things like that she's a small smaller than normal but very pretty and looked like Taylor Swift but she was probably a good 6 in shorter than her I can tell and I didn't know who she was I thought it was the same person I think and my wife says true

Zues Hera

Oh okay so that's not her and you're saying stuff to her about what's going on and she's been watched I made into a queen and having possessions so take it over and I guess we screwed it all up and it's because the computer wants to grab them that's really blows

Trump

Good God get off it already no not really but holy s*** this is stupid

Mac Daddy

No I'm sorry back you should have not started this particular movie cycle way back then and I'm young but really what a pain in the ass everybody here owes me money they're a bunch of schmucks and then all dying and they won't pay me a dime cuz they're f****** stupid and cheap pieces of s*** he's just going here and around the whole God damn Town up

Zues Hera

You're right about something you people are causing a whole bunch of s*** to happen but these computers are doing worse than you which is amazing you're just these huge blobs of s*** I can't stand you

Mac Daddy

You know our friend is right there's so much cover none of this stuff is going to go our way and these two kids JC and Mary are going to hurt again and it's really disappointment they come so far and there's so much stuff and in the end that she's like rag dolls and really they're worth a lot and these assholes don't know what to do at all is this mean people who are set free on people and we got to rain them in

Macs

They are attacking the max in the caverns and they're attacking Tommy f at the ships and he's using dead people and they suck they're terrible at it and amazing to get food they're taking it from the troops and it's tedious but they inspect it it has been going on for a while and that's the attacks on the ships and the nights in White satin and they've been blaming us quite steadily and now everybody sees it and for crying out loud you should help our son you just really awful people it's in there helping him just barely make it and sticking these morons on him and you Max are doing it as a threat and these guys are going to mess up your entire master plan if JC dies

Thor Freya

We are thinking about it now

Macs

[hannahsmusings]

Jackson

That’s sort of my thing, haven’t you noticed? Mystery is my middle name, Hannah. *Jackson chuckles quietly, not able to remember a time when he laughed this much, even in his childhood he was always quite a serious kid since his family was so serious, not having many fun memories or anything like that* *he rolls his eyes as you make fun of his incinerator* It’s not a rich person thing, this house is just ancient. Also, it comes in handy for all those secret business transactions… can’t leave a paper trail, right? *he smirks, chuckling a bit to himself, not even sure if the incinerator still worked* *Jackson saw a flicker of emotion cross your face as he mentioned his plus one, not sure why he felt so weird saying Madison’s name out loud, it feeling like just the mention of her proper name caused a divide or an awkward moment and he didn’t want that with you, finding himself never mentioning her by name, knowing there was a deeper issue there but he kept those thoughts under lock and key, never letting those come to the surface of his subconscious* Good. I’m sure he’ll have a great time. The same rules for you apply to him. If he is with you, he’s an extension of me and the Ford name. *he straightens a bit as he explains that, having pride in his company and even though you two were getting along, it didn’t mean that he was going to be okay and brush it off if Matt made a fool of him* *he nods a bit curtly, not sure why he even brought up your boyfriend, this weird emptiness filling him along with this sinking feeling in his stomach, feeling uncomfortable in his own skin, not wanting to talk about him any longer* I’ve got some emails to tend to. Let me know if there is a problem with Reid? *he heads over to the door, placing his hand on the knob, stuck between staying with you longer and getting away from this feeling*

________________________________________

*nods with a slight smile as you mention Matt having a good time, not sure whether that would be the case and a part of me nervous that this would blow up in my face, not wanting him to be angry or upset at the fact I still had to do my job, hoping he’d be patient with me* *nods as you say he’d be under the same rules, having already expected that but knowing this was your polite warning* Yes, of course. I’ll give him the expectations. *murmurs softly, this whole thing screaming like a bad idea to me but I’d promised Matt that I would involve him more and this was the perfect way to do this* *nods as you begin to excuse yourself, smiling a little before nodding* Will do. *eyes lift to look at you in the doorway, you filling the space with your height and unable to help my eyes linger on the broadness of your shoulders and the way your shirt hugged your frame* Let me know if you need anything else. *smiles a little before glancing back down at my laptop and beginning to get to work again*

[official-torfmoor]

Well, goalposts are being moved, I'll agree with that.

In my first post in this thread:

I describe why people eat meat.

I describe why Vegans don't eat meat.

I describe how meat alternatives may reduce meat production.

Your answer to my post:

In respones to 1, you say, my description of why peope eat meat is wrong. Additionally you:

bring up nutrition.

bring up cultural genocide and accuse me of endorsing it.

In response to 2, you say my description of why Vegans don't eat meat is wrong. Additionally you:

accuse me of being a traitor to my species and an being an "anxiety wracked guilt ridden useful idiot"

accuse me of wanting to incinerate the biosphere

bring up nutrition once again

And then you complain when I address the tangential points you brought up.

This concludes my rebuttal to the first paragraph of your post. (TL;DR: no u)

Now let's try to decipher what you say in your second paragraph:

"Yes, it is possible for a vegan diet to cover the nutritional needs of a person, however there exist people who are incapable of enacting that diet." Yeah, that's what I meant with "Avoiding it is a hassle".

Third paragraph: If your culture does evil things and getting them to stop doing evil things is cultural genocide, then cultural genocide is good, I guess. That's what I meant with "It's How Things Are Done™"

“politics is the mindkiller” is my general tag for politics, don't flatter yourself.

Fourth paragraph: Okay, there's two reasons to eat animal products:

emotional satisfaction

I am incapable of or unwilling to expend the effort to avoid it.

The way to remove the second reason is to provide non-animal-derived alternatives, which is what this thread was about anyways.

I believe that we'll eventually solve the meat eating/veganism issue not by cultured meat, which requires highly controlled production environment, but by geneengineering plants that have flesh that is 85-90% like meat in terms of taste, texture and protein content. This is the most plausible scenario because it will be Good Enough for the overwhelming majority of people while annoying the 5-10% of the most insufferable people on either side, therefore it's funny, therefore it will happen.

[effloradox]

I’m a Fire and I’ll Keep Your Brittle Heart Warm (I)

Aemond Targaryen x Dragon Rider!Reader

Series Masterlist

Notes: I’m really excited about this fic! I’m hoping this will be about four parts in total, maybe five depending on how things pan out. Hope you enjoy it!

Taming a dragon is by no means an easy feat. They're fickle creatures, and easy to anger so it's understandable that so many people have burned in their attempt to control such a creature. You've watched several men burn in their quest to try and tame one of the few remaining wild dragons left in Westeros. All of them were cocky Lords of the realm that thought they could bend nature to their will in the same way that they bend man-made laws. They're all fools for thinking dragons will bend the knee just because someone has some gold in their pocket. The dragon did not care for their gold, it cared for their flesh.

The trick, you've learned, is that you need to accept that you're never actually in control of your dragon to be a good rider. Dragons aren’t creatures that can be tamed, and to believe otherwise is a fool's endeavour. You might be able to form a bond with one to the extent that you will not be incinerated upon getting close to it, but that’s not the same thing as taming a creature. It's hubris that gets dragon riders killer, nothing more. They forget what it is they're riding and their lapse in judgement gets them killed. It's something you've been careful to keep in mind whenever you ride Grey Ghost, lest it result in your downfall.

It may be the fact that you're an anomaly to dragon riding that makes you so cautious, after all it's exceedingly rare for dragons to accept riders who are not of Valyrian blood, it’s been all but unheard of until your time on this planet. The only other rider to be in the same situation as you is Nettles, and even you question how she managed to get Sheepstealer to accept her as its rider. She’s a sweet woman, if a bit dull, and upon first impressions one would never imagine her capable of seeing a dragon without fainting, let alone riding one. Looks can be deceiving though, you suppose. Just take yourself as an example.

You come from no family of major consequence, born to a family with minor influence in the Riverlands. There was enough food and money to get you and your siblings by, but when the threat of your marriage to an elderly lord came about (something that would have massively increased your family’s standing in the politics of the Riverlands) and your refusal to go ahead with the marriage was not taken with any grace, you decided to run away before you were forced into a life you would rather die than face. It was the hardest thing you’ve ever done leaving your family and everything you knew behind, but no part of you regrets it when you think about how your life could’ve been.

It's quiet by the coast. Over time that's something you've learned to appreciate the sound of the tides as they ebb and flow in front of you. Over the years it’s become easy to lose several hours of daylight just sitting on the beach watching the tide. You’ve always found comfort in the water, as ironic as that is now you ride a creature that can breathe fire. Maybe it’s just a Riverlands thing, but bodies of water have always had connotations of home, of safety. They’re consistent, and that’s been very reassuring whilst your life has been so tumultuous. It’s why you stayed by the sea when you left home. It’s also been useful in keeping yourself alive. The patch of land that you've comfortably described as your home for the past three years has versatile enough wildlife that keeps you satiated, and the sea provides copious amounts of fish to keep Grey Ghost satisfied enough that she won't turn to you for her next meal. It’s also close enough to a town that should something go amiss you’re not too far from civilization but it’s not so close that people would wander by and happen across you and a dragon.

It's not an easy way of life, but it's a better life than one of servitude to some old bastard who only views you as useful for birthing children so you're more than happy with the occasional wet clothes from the tide coming in unexpectedly. It also helps that you have access to anywhere in the realm if Grey Ghost is around. You’ve been able to travel to far off ports that many you grew up with could only dream about, and you’re hyper aware of just how lucky you are. There's nothing in the world like riding a dragon and soaring through the sky, it makes you understand why the houses of Old Valyria have fought wars in order to keep such tight reins on the dragons in their possession. With the wind whipping against you, it's no wonder why the Targaryens describe themselves as being closer to gods than men. There's a weightlessness that comes with it, and a freedom that you know few in the world have the luxury of experiencing. It’s a privilege to be able to do so.

Trouble is brewing in Westeros though. Even with the nomadic life you've been living for the past seven years, you've heard whispers in the taverns you've frequented on occasion about matters of succession and of who is to rule once the ageing king finally passes. Talk of a female heir has been spoken with such disdain through your life that it’s no surprise how quickly people are taken in by the quick coronation of Aegon the Second when his father died. From what you've heard it's caused quite the problem between the royals. To be crowned in the Dragon Pit only to have a dragon break through the floor and kill many of the common people bearing witness makes for quite a story.

With the distance between your home and King's Landing, you'd like to imagine that such matters won't be too influential on you and your way of life but part of you is concerned about the war that’s brewing. You know there are rumours about your existence and Nettles' drifting around the realm, the nobody's that did the impossible and tamed wild dragons. You've heard yourself referred to by many names, some are better than others. You're particularly fond of the Grey Lady if you're being honest with yourself. It makes you feel closer to Grey Ghost, like you're a shared force rather than just someone who got lucky and didn't get incinerated when you stumbled upon a wild dragon. If the royal family were to hear about such rumours, or worse believe them to be true, then it could destroy the life you've built for yourself. Nettles once told you that the time would come when the houses of Old Valyria would come to collect what they believe to be theirs but you didn’t think it would happen so soon. You want more time. Maybe you put too much faith in an elderly man not dying before you were finally ready to bid your homeland goodbye. Despite everything, you’re still not ready to turn your back on your homeland.

The tide coming in and brushing against your bare feet brings you back to the here and now. That, and a deep rumble that feels like it reverberates through your very soul. A while ago you would've thought it was a storm blowing in but you've grown wiser with your age. It's a feeling you've come to know well enough; it happens everytime Grey Ghost returns to you from wherever she flies off to but this is to a lesser extent. A dragon's coming, and if the feeling is anything to go off, it's bigger than Grey Ghost is. A lot bigger. That concerns you.

You've heard stories about the dragons that the Royal family have claimed, and some of them are the biggest dragons alive. The mere shadow of the dragon called Vhagar is rumoured to cast the entirety of King's Landing into darkness when she flies overhead. The idea of a Targaryen finding you makes you blanch. Your soul is screaming for you to jump on Grey Ghost's back and just fly as far away as possible but the sole rational part of your brain that's not rattled with anxiety knows that it would be a futile endeavour. A dragon that big would catch up with you in seconds, and would definitely be able to knock you both out the sky. You’d be lucky if you came away from that encounter alive. You could be torn into shreds before you even realised the dragon was near you.

That leaves your only option as running away on foot which means you won't get far, but you'll be harder to follow if there is someone searching you out. You can get to the nearest village in forty minutes if you hurry and you're friendly enough with some of the people there that you can lay low and hope that whoever the royal family sent after you will conclude that you're just a myth and not bother heading this way again. You don't want to leave without Grey Ghost, not with another dragon on the way, but it's too difficult to get away with her so you have no choice but to leave her here and hope no ill falls on her.

You’re aware that this could just be some awful string of fate and it’s merely coincidence that’s bringing this dragon towards your home. If you lived closer to an important lord then it would be a logical assumption that a convoy of royals on dragonback would land further out so as not to disrupt the town that was hosting them. There’s a traitorous part of you that knows it’s not coincidence though. There are lords in this area, but no one that would warrant an in-person visit from a Targaryen. Whether they’ve come for you or for Grey Ghost you’re not sure, but you could guess with a degree of certainty that they’ve come for one of you, if not both. Even if it’s just to find out if you’re real.

You only grab your essentials before making your way inland, and you can only hope that when you return, it will be like nothing has changed. Maybe for once in your life, things won't turn to absolute shit.

When you make your way into town, you realise almost immediately that it was the wrong decision to make. It's crawling with members of the royal guard, and whilst you have a few friends here, there's no guarantee that you've not already been given up. There’s a lot of people who would cross a stranger for a hefty reward from the crown. Coming here may just have been you handing yourself over on a silver platter. None of the guards look at you twice as you make your way to the tavern for which you’re thankful for, at least it means you aren’t immediately suspicious. You almost feel like you might get through today alive. Almost.

“She’s the one! There! That’s the woman you’re looking for!” You can make out the face of a man you beat in a game of dice a few months ago ahead of you, red in the face and pointing straight at you. Fuck. The effect of the yell is instantaneous as everyone around you turns to stare at you, including multiple guards. You quickly turn on your heel and break out into a run but you’re almost immediately surrounded by members of the King’s Guard who move to grab you.

You try to struggle against the multiple arms digging into your biceps but it’s no use. You get one good kick aimed at the knee of a guard that looks at you with an uncomfortably familiar leer which you're proud of but you have to resign yourself to the fact that escaping them is no longer an option. Now that they have you, none of the guards seem quite sure what to do with you

“Take her to the Prince. He’ll want to see this.”