#red riot kin

[ratboyinastarrycoat]

at some point during a hyperfixation my ability to articulate my complicated thoughts about a character decay to a point where i just turn into this

[stormyblue90]

Fox hates Red.

Just a little something I wrote while bored at work based on @sleepingsun501 headcanon of Fox's favorite color. I hope you enjoy it!

Fox hates the color red.

Despite what most would think if they were to judge his armor, Commander Fox hates the color red.

If it were up to him, he'd paint his armor any other color, but alas Fox is forced to wear the color he despises.

Red is the color of his brothers' blood that spills onto the battlefields, in the medical bay, on the streets during civilian riots. A color of pain.

The robes of the despot he and his kin are enslaved to serve, are shades of red. Fox imagines the invisible strings he pulls would be red as well.

Fox was told the blades of the Sith, the enemy of the Jedi his brothers proudly fight alongside, are a burning red. Such a fiery red blade is what took his batch-mate, Wolffe's eye.

Red are the flames that burn on the battlefields, red was the dirt of that first battle on Geonosis, of the uniforms he and his brothers wore while trapped on Kamino, dreaming of other worlds and waiting to be deployed. Back when they were all so innocent and naive of the horrors that would await them.

When Fox wakes from unexplainable blackouts, with gaps in his memory, and injuries he doesn't remember suffering, red is the last thing he can remember seeing.

In Commander Fox's mind, red is the color of death. Red is the color of darkness, of pain, and suffering. He abhors the color he can only associate with evil and destruction.

Green however, Fox enjoys.

The opposite of red, a color he finds comfort in.

Naboo, Alderaan, Kashyyyk, lush planets filled with green, with life. Not the cold metallics and blinding neon lights of Coruscant.

Fox thinks he would enjoy visiting such lush planets someday. He'd love nothing more than to leave the artificial planet that has become his prison.

Green is the color of many a Jedi's blades. Of the old Grandmaster who told Fox's brothers they were unique individuals, and protected them. Who treated them with respect and kindness.

Should he and his brothers finally be freed, Fox will choose to fill his wardrobe with green, repaint his armor in shades of the color. He likes to think that were he ever to have a lover, perhaps their eyes would be green.

In Fox's mind, green is the color of life. Green is the color of growth, comfort, and protection. Fox loves the color he has come to associate with freedom, vitality, and hope.

When the titanic beast that the chancellor so foolishly brought to the planet, finally devours the man in red and calms its fury; Fox finds comfort when he looks into its eyes, and finds they glow a beautiful green.

[silverwings22]

Forget-Me-Not Blue, In Red (Commander Fox One-Shot)

SFW, but injury, Order 66, and angst

This idea hit me out of nowhere, and I don't know if it'll turn into anything bigger like my Tech one-shot did. But have fun with it!

He’d woken up to the truth a little slower than some of his brothers, but Fox had woken up eventually. The Republic, the war, the Empire, it was all a farce put together to turn the galaxy upside down in someone else’s image. He and his kin had simply been the bullet in a loaded slugthrower, and the order had been a finger on the trigger. 

Order 66. 

He’d been aimless afterwards, watching things shift around him. Smoke belched from the burning Jedi Temple for days, while he and the Coruscant Guard ensured order. There were riots, there were planets resisting… then there were TK troopers and suicide missions as clones were phased out. Squad by squad, legion by legion, until no one was left between him and the chopping block. He’d always thought he’d go first, before the younger brothers. The shinies, the ones he looked after and protected. He’d always taken the first week of any posting when a new delegate requested a clone guard detail, so he could see what they were like. The bad ones got older, hardened brothers who could take it. He’d never let little brothers suffer under someone like Palpatine… that’s why he’d stayed so long. He could have transferred, there was one posting he’d always wanted… but he stayed. He took the abuse, the bruises and scars, the unexplainable gaps in his memory, the injuries that looked like lightning strikes on a planet that didn’t have lightning… 

He’d done it for his brothers. Now, most of them were gone. Some turned up dead, on missions or in the barracks without explanation besides a cold look from an Imperial officer. Others just went missing. There were rumors, whispered between clones, of a place you could go and words you could say. If you went, you didn’t come back. Like tales of fae on Stewjon, the mysterious Other Ones would whisk you to a new place. What it was, no clone had returned to tell. Some were willing to risk it. After a year under the Empire, Fox was willing to risk it. 

It was a derelict hangar bay in the lower mid levels. The instructions had said come alone, with only what he could carry and to give up the rest. “I’m looking for a ride home.” He said quietly, just enough he hoped someone heard. He hoped someone came, and it wasn’t a trap to weed out the traitors among the clones. His only answer then would be a blaster bolt to the chest for treason-

“You’re in direct violation of Order 66. You are guilty of treason, and will be executed.”

“Fox?”

The sound of footsteps made him turn, and he found himself looking at 501st blue paint on the white standard armor. Jaig eyes were on the helmet, covered in tally marks to represent fallen brothers… he knew that armor. His comrade, his friend, his brother. “Rex?”

“Fox.” Rex pulled his helmet off, revealing his blonde buzz cut and a new scar on the right temple. “I was hoping you’d show up one day.”

“The reports said you were dead.” Fox reached for his arm with unsteady hands, clasping Rex tightly. If the captain noticed his hands were shaking, he didn’t comment. 

“It’s better if the Empire thinks that. Come on. You’re safe now, vod.”

When Rex took him off Coruscant, Fox was whisked to a field hospital. He wasn’t even sure what planet he was going to, Rex apologizing when he told him the secrecy was needed. “There’s a chip in your head, vod. That’s why you carried out the Order. We have to take it out, and make sure you’re okay before you decide what you do with the rest of your life.”

“What have other clones been doing?” Fox asked, sitting blindfolded in a seat of a shuttle beside him. 

“Some decided to keep fighting. There’s a resistance, mostly clones but with some nat-born help. Others have been retiring. They’re exhausted. I can’t blame them… some go to a place a couple friends of mine found, called Pabu. Others have settled on Pantora. Senator Chuchi’s been helping us.”

“I can’t go to Pantora.” Fox said, too fast and he knew it.

“Did something happen, Fox?”

“I did something… during the Order. Something unforgivable.”

Rex patted his brother’s shoulder. “We all have regrets. It wasn’t your fault, it was the control chip in your brain. We’ll get it out soon, and you’ll be free. I promise.”

Fox wanted to call his brother a liar. He’d never be free from what he’d done. He wanted to confess right there, but his jaw locked and his throat closed at the memory of the night the Republic fell. “C-can I tell you?” He finally managed to rasp. “You should know… who you’re saving. What I’ve done.”

“You’re my brother, Fox. That’s all that matters.” Rex said it kindly, but Fox didn’t feel like he deserved any of it. “But I’m listening.”

Fox nodded, fists clenched in his lap. With the blindfold on, he could imagine every word he spoke as he stuttered out the story. The worst thing he’d ever done, the reason he had to get out of the Empire.

Kandri Chitose had been Senator Riyo Chuchi’s personal assistant, a golden-eyed beauty who always wore her rose-pink hair in a set of twin buns held with golden pins. He’d met her when Chuchi requested a clone detail for her, and Fox had arrived for his customary week-long observation. 

Most delegates, even the nice ones, didn’t address the clones at first. Most were nervous being around military personnel, and didn’t know how to break the ice. Some were intimidated. Many just didn’t view the clones as people, and acted accordingly. 

She’d offered him a cup of caf before he was fully in her office. “Good morning!” She’d been balanced precariously on a stool, set in a rolling desk chair, trying to reach the bag of caf on top of her office shelf. “Hold on a moment, I’ll make us both a cup if you’d like. My menace of a brother came to visit and he put my caf all the way up here! Do you like caf? I have tea if you’d prefer.”

“Do you need help, ma’am?” He could only watch her on the tippy toe of one foot, blue calf disappearing under her red dress. Her favorite color, he’d find out eventually. 

“I think I’ve- aha! Got it.” She clambered down with a smile. The gold tattoos on her face formed a bar over her nose and triangles on her chin and cheekbones. “Now then. I’m Kandri. What’s your name, and please don’t tell me a CT number. I get mixed up with numbers, but I’m good with names.” 

“Commander Fox, ma’am.” 

She held out a hand to shake, and her nails were painted red. He’d remember that polish forever. “It’s nice to meet you, Commander. Caf or tea?”

“Caf is fine, but you don’t have to go to the trouble-”

“It’s not trouble. There’s creamers in the fridge by my desk, pick whichever you like.” She headed to the caf maker and got it going with deft fingers. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever put creamer in caf.” He frowned, but took his helmet off so he could at least enjoy the offering she was so insistent on giving him.

She wrinkled her nose. “To each his own. If you ever change your mind, it’s right there. Here’s the sugar. Now, I know they didn’t tie up a Commander like you to babysit little me, so you must have stuff you need to get done. Can you do it here, or should we go to your office after caf? I can work anywhere. Riyo just has me drafting her speeches today.”

By the end of the week, Fox almost didn’t leave the posting. She made him caf every morning, and let him get work done. When there was time, she asked him about himself and his brothers. And he’d tried every creamer in her fridge.

He assigned her a shiny, because he knew she’d be good to his little brother. She’d given him her comm frequency and told him he had an open invitation to have caf in her office, and to call her if he ever needed anything.

Fox infamously didn’t like people. He liked Kandri after that. 

He didn’t intend to call her. He felt bad as he dialed the frequency, but it was 0300 and he had no one else to call for help. She hadn’t asked any questions, just showed up at the senate building in a red peacoat over her white nightgown, feet in a pair of ballet flats. He was on the bottom of the stairs with a broken foot and gash over his eye. Kandri had pulled his weight, armor and all, onto her narrow shoulders and helped him to her office so she could take a look at him. She’d cleaned his cut and put a bacta patch on it, then tried to argue with him that he needed to go to the hospital. 

He feigned embarrassment and told her he’d fallen down the stairs. Kandri had put her hands on her hips and stared him down, her hair out of its buns and falling in gentle waves down almost to her waist. He’d never thought about how pretty she was until then, in her pajamas with no makeup, golden eyes bright with worry. He eventually did let her take him in her skycar to the garrison medbay across the city sector, where she’d sat with him until a clone medic set and put his foot in a boot. Then she’d driven him to the barracks, taken one look at how many stairs he’d have to manage, and shook her head. “You can sleep on my couch, Fox. Call Thire and tell him you’ll be out until you’re better.”

“I can’t let everything pile up on him, Lady Chitose-” 

“Then I’ll pick up your datapad tomorrow and you can call it light duty. But you need to rest, or your foot won’t heal right. And please… just call me Kandri?”

After his foot healed, he made time to see her more often. She always had a cup of caf and a smile for him. Sometimes she picked up lunch for herself and Senator Chuchi and “got an extra” that always coincided with something he’d mentioned wanting to try or liking before. He watched her, bit by bit, moderate herself for him. 

If he mentioned that a certain phrase reminded him of the senator that threw a full cup of hot caf across the room at him or a brother, that phrase disappeared from her vocabulary. If he mentioned a delegate who mistreated clones, she stepped between them and her shiny guard the next time they met in the hall. Fox noticed, if he didn’t see it live he’d find out on security holo review later. Bit by bit, she showed him she was safe. She was kind. She could be trusted. 

Eventually, he started letting her visit his office after hours, when he was catching up on things and no one else was there. She sat in the chair by his desk, moving it closer day by day… until one day she was sitting on the desk corner itself. His helmet was sitting beside her, and her hand rested lightly on it. 

“Fox?”

“Hm?”

“How’d you get that scar across the bridge of your nose?” Her voice had been so quiet, so fretful and hesitant. Like she was afraid she’d scare him off.

He paused, stylus in hand, and looked at her. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I see how many other ones you have. Your hands, your arms under your blacks, your chest… when you stayed at my apartment, I could see there were so many…”

“I’m a soldier, Kandri. Scars are a part of the job.”

Her pink eyebrows furrowed, red painted lips parting as she fixed her eyes on him. “Fox. I know you didn’t fall down the stairs that night.” 

Fox stiffened. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes you do.” She slowly leaned a little closer. “I see you. The first one to step between your brothers and danger. The last one to back down. You didn’t even flinch when that Zillo creature attacked this building, but you twitch when we pass certain senators in the hall. You look around when you hear the Chancellor’s voice. And you’re a clone commander, the most graceful and battle-ready people in the galaxy. You didn’t fall. Someone pushed you. Tell me who.”

“I can’t do that.” He shook his head, unable to tear his eyes away from hers. 

“But they hurt you.”

“I’m a soldier. A clone. We’re meant to be expendable.”

“That’s not fair, Fox.” Kandri kept leaning in, though her hand on his helmet tightened its grip. “It’s not right. You don’t deserve it.”

“Lots of people think so.” He swallowed hard. He had an idea of what she was going to say next, and he wanted to hear it just as much as he didn’t. Once the words came out of her mouth, he’d never forget them. They’d mean too much to him.

“I would never hurt you.” Kandri whispered. “But I know you can’t believe that. Too many people have already let you down.” 

He’d never been more seen than that moment, in the light of those golden eyes. There was no formality or procedure to hide behind. He’d already let her in too close, he couldn’t close the door again. “I want to believe you.” He admitted. 

“Would you let me try to prove it?” 

The galaxy had moved much too fast when he nodded. “... how?”

“Like this.” She’d kissed him, so soft and sweet and unlike anything he’d known since the day he came out of the growth tube. She pulled back after a moment, checking his expression for hesitation or distaste. When she found none, her cheeks flushed indigo and she slowly reached up to cup his face in both her hands. He closed his eyes when her thumbs stroked under them, tracing his scar and temples, where his black hair had started to gray far too early even for a man with accelerating aging. “I would never hurt you.” She said softly. “I’ll keep telling you until you believe me.” 

He was one of millions of men, made to die indistinguishably as numbers on a strategy board. He’d accepted it in his exhausted way, told himself he’d do what he could for as long as he could to keep the vod’ikase safe. But for a moment, under Kandri’s soft blue hands, he felt like he might actually matter. He didn’t quite believe, but he wanted to.

Her second kiss was on his forehead. He adored her after that.

Stolen kisses during caf time turned to sneaking out of the barracks into her apartment, or either of their offices. Riyo Chuchi wasn’t stupid, she knew there was more than a friendship and simply let Kandri off the hook early some days. If her skycar was still at the senate building when the Senator left… she didn’t say anything. 

Fox knew he was in love with her when she had to go back to Pantora for a month with Chuchi. She’d kissed him goodbye in an alcove behind the barracks, promising she’d be back soon. He’d missed her every single day, and thought about comming twice an hour at least. Only the reality that they both were working stopped him… but he found himself thinking about her constantly. Every petty jab from a senator who viewed him as barely more than a droid was easier to take when he imagined her rolling her eyes and whispering what an asshole she thought they were. Even the innate dread he felt whenever he was in Palpatine’s office eased slightly if he distracted himself with the thought she was coming back soon. 

The Chancellor had noticed. Fox should have realized that was odd. There was no outward sign, no change in behavior, he’d been sure of it. But Palpatine had looked suspicious, like he’d both anticipated Fox’s discomfort and felt slighted by its absence. He’d been worse than ever after that, but Fox ignored it. It didn’t matter. The job, the Republic, wasn’t his entire life anymore. It was just an assignment, something to get through so he could go back to where he wanted to be. Kandri waited on the other side of whatever shitty day he was having, with open arms. 

When she’d sent him a message that she was back, he’d asked Thorn to cover for him for the first time in his life. His brother had been delighted, grinning like a moron. “Please tell me you have a date. And please tell me it’s that cute Pantoran girl with the buns.”

“That’s classified.” Fox had left his helmet in his office, he was in such a rush. He never forgot equipment, and failed to give a fuck when he realized what he’d done. He’d get it again when he went back to work. All that mattered was getting to her apartment. 

Kandri had met him at the door, in a red sweater over her day dress, and threw her arms around his neck. “I missed you so much.” She’d whispered, snuggling into his chest. “It’s good to be home.” He’d understood then, that Pantora wasn’t her home anymore. He was, like she was his. He’d spent the whole night in her arms, lighter than he’d felt since he was a cadet. She was almost asleep on his chest when he kissed her rosebud pink hair and murmured. “I believe you.” 

Kandri had smiled, looking up at him in the dimness of her bedroom, the city lights from the window casting dynamic shadows across her face as she smiled at him. Her fingers trailed over the bridge of his nose. “I love you too.” 

“Execute Order 66.” 

When the Order went out, he felt like he couldn’t breathe. His head was in a vice, his thoughts muddled and discoordinate. He’d walked out of his office with other members of the Coruscant Guard, up to Palpatine’s office. The window had been broken. There were dead Jedi, traitors. The 501st was marching on the Temple, and he was to catch any who escaped them. 

All Jedi had to die. 

It had been a blur. His boots on the ground, orders given, the sound of breathing in his helmet, and then he’d turned down into an alleyway. 

Two kids, barely more than ten or twelve, were clinging to each other. They were dressed in brown robes, with beaded braids by their ears. Next to them were a pair of Pantoran adults, a male and a female. They were comforting the padawans, clearly trying to help them. When he turned the corner, the woman stiffened at the sound of his boots. Before she even turned around, Fox had recognized her red dress. “Kandri.”

“Fox.” Kandri’s eyes were wide, but she looked relieved to see him. “What’s going on? These padawans said the Temple was attacked! We were out walking-” She took a step towards him, but froze when his blaster lifted. 

Run, Kandri. Run. Take the padawans, take the other Pantoran. Run. Memory begged her, but she hadn’t. She’d pushed the other Pantoran and children behind her. “Lofi… take them and go.”

Lofi. Her brother, the one who hid her caf. She talked about him, he was a disability advocate and teacher at the fiber arts college at Coruscant University. He was blind. She was so proud of him. They were twins. Fox remembered all the facts but he couldn’t lower the blaster. 

“You’re in direct violation of Order 66. You are guilty of treason, and will be executed.” His own voice had said, dull and uninflected, like he was complaining about the pre-programed weather and not pointing a blaster at her. 

Kandri’s eyes watered up with tears. “Fox… please.”

“You are a traitor to the Empire.” There hadn’t even been an Empire yet, but he’d said it like it had existed for decades. 

The tears spilled over, tracking down her cheeks. There were freckles across her nose, darker blue and barely visible in the dim alley light. A constellation all his own, or it had been. “I love you.” She whispered, because of course she had. What else could she have said, in the moment before he pulled the trigger? Before the blaster bolt struck her dead in the chest and she collapsed backwards, head slamming into the pavement. Sprawled on her back, one bun coming loose and dipping pink hair into a puddle, knees tucked together and one foot bare where the blast had knocked her right out of her shoe. 

He’d ripped his helmet off and vomited immediately, tears in his eyes. 

He’d shot her. He’d killed her.

Kandri. 

He wished she had run. He’d never have seen her again, and she’d have thought he was a child-hunting monster for the rest of her life but she would have been alive. Instead, she was dead in an alleyway. And Fox should have called it in, but he couldn’t make himself get any closer to the corpse of the woman who’d only this morning had been alive and sneaking him a breakfast pastry from a Senatorial banquet just because she knew he liked cinnamon. 

Fox had left her there, because he couldn’t make himself look at what he’d done.

When he finished the story, Rex just let him squeeze his hand. “I’m sorry, vod. I’m so sorry.”

After the chip was removed and he recovered, Fox didn’t know what to do with himself. He refused Pantora, he was hesitant about Pabu… so he decided to join Rex’s fight. Senator Chuchi was helping Rex, and it was a fight worthy of going to battle again. It was something he could imagine being proud of eventually, if he could ever be proud of anything he ever did again. 

No matter how much his vode assured him that the chip had forced his hand, he still remembered he’d been the one to pull the trigger. He’d hunted those padawans. He’d declared Kandri Chitose a traitor. He’d killed her for the very thing he’d fallen in love with, her willingness to stand between someone and what hurt them. She’d been willing to save someone. She’d saved him, and those padawans, and her brother. 

He couldn’t save her from himself.

“The base here is staffed with mostly clones, but there’s a couple civilian volunteers. Trace and Rafa Martez own the hangar you came to, you’ll see them. There’s a couple mechanics, one really smart and obnoxious droid technician, and a cleaner.” Rex explained, walking Fox in. “Don’t eat anything Howser says he cooked. Don’t stand near Gregor if he says he’s got an idea…. Anything else he should know, Vik?”

The bearded clone beside him, with gray eyes and a tired expression born of a place Fox had only heard whispered about, “Tantiss”, nodded. “Be nice to Kitty. Every clone in here will punch you if you make her cry.”

“Kitty?” Fox frowned. 

“She’s the cleaner. A couple of the guys who defected like you did found her barely alive on their way out. She had a sucking chest wound, but they had some spare bacta and managed to save her. She doesn’t talk, we’re not sure if she can’t or just won’t. But she makes little noises like a tooka, so we started calling her Kitty and she seems to like it.” Vik explained. “She looks after everyone, especially the new guys who just got out of the Empire. She likes to bring people food.” 

Fox nodded. “She sounds nice.”

Rex smiled. “I keep trying to get her to leave base, to see if we can find out who she is. She doesn’t seem to remember anything… but if anyone so much as mentions it, she hides. I found her in a walk in freezer once.”

“She didn’t get sick?” Fox frowned. 

Vik shook his head. “Pantorans can take the cold better than us.”

Fox winced, but nodded. 

“Here she comes. Someone must have told her we had a new arrival.” Rex nodded. 

Sure enough, coming from the back of the base was a Pantoran girl with pink hair tied into a messy braid. She was wearing what looked like clone blacks bottoms and an undershirt, with a gray poncho tucked into her belt, and too-big boots, while very proudly carrying a tray of fruit. Vik smiled as she got close enough to make out the details of her face. “Hey, Miss Kitty.”

Kitty made a definitively tooka-like purr-myrr sound and held up the tray towards him. 

Rex nodded. “She’ll get upset if you don’t at least eat a little.” He whispered to Fox. “She keeps this place spotless, and we give her little odd jobs outside of that to keep her happy.” 

Fox nodded, turning back towards her as Kitty walked up with her tray. Just as her boots stopped, inches from his own, he dropped his helmet to the floor.

There was a constellation of freckles across her nose, sitting under liquid gold eyes that looked back at him with a guileless smile. She wore no makeup, no gold pins in her hair, but Fox’s mouth went dry at the sight of a ragged blaster-burn scar peeking just out of the top of her shirt. Her braid, pulled over her shoulder, was tied with a tattered ribbon in a bright, cheerful red. She held up the tray again, squeaking at him curiously with tone instead of words. 

“Th-thank you.” Fox whispered, taking a piece of melioruun. Kitty kept squeaking until Rex and Vik took a piece, then trotted off after Howser in the distance. 

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Vik frowned.

“You don’t need to take her off base to know who she is.” Fox whispered, the fruit dripping juice down his gloves when he unconsciously squeezed it. 

“You know her?” Rex glanced over at Kitty again. He’d been trying to figure out what to do with a girl who could barely seem to look after herself, but who was determined to try to look after the clones fighting for their lives against the Empire.

“I’m the reason she can’t talk, or remember.” Fox swallowed hard. “It’s her.”

“Her?” Rex frowned.

“The one I told you about… Her name is Kandri Chitose.”

[headmate-ideas]

Can i get a male headmate based on like crust punk/skater aesthetics of the 90s? Like w33d, high tops, messy rooms, anger, etc? Thxx

🎸 HEADMATE TEMPLATE 🧷

✦ Name(s): Don, Max, Riot ✦ Pronouns: he/him, it/its, xe/xym/xyr/xyrs/xymself, x/xs/xself ✦ Species: human ✦ Age: age slider (17-27) ✦ Role(s): anger holder, social headmate, artist/crafter ✦ Labels: male, mspec ✦ Xenos: anger, music, the color red ✦ Interests/likes: DIY, thrift stores, skate parks ✦ Dislikes: following rules ✦ Music taste: punk rock, lo-fi, grunge, pop punk ✦ Aesthetic(s): crust punk, grunge, bastardcore ✦ Objectum attraction(s): musical instruments, battle jackets, skateboards ✦ Kins: rats, black cats, music ✦ Emoji proxy: 🎸🧷 ✦ Details:

Don is the embodiment of 90s alternative culture, particularly crust punk and skater culture. He dresses in a grungy/punk style that involves torn jeans (ripped either naturally over time or by hand), flannel shirts with patches sewn all over them, and high tops that he keeps until they're completely worn out. He likes making DIY projects/zines and sharing them online and with friends. Despite the disarray in which he tends to keep his room, he can always find his craft supplies and albums. It also likes going to punk shows, finding these as good opportunities to socialize as well as to get its feelings of anger out. It holds more anger than most members of his system, which sometimes comes out of nowhere. This includes feeling frustration to a stronger degree than others, as well as having general anger towards deserved targets (e.g. those who have mistreated the system, or at injustices). However, Don is good at distracting xself from xs anger, using music and DIY projects to cope. Xe makes zines and music about how xe feels, and he doesn't mind sharing these coping skills with other headmates who have issues with emotional self-regulation.

[These can be edited and changed as needed, and headmates will almost definitely not turn out EXACTLY as described.]

[zoozki]

Bruh imagine a One Piece had a version of Santa that turns Bad Kids into Presents for the Good Kids. Although in truth Santa has been working as a slave by the Navy in order to quelm rioting and uprising among the rising Pirate Nations as the Straw Hat Pirates Sail towards finding the One Piece while saving towns and islands from corruption of the Evils in this world's Government's Agenda. In secret the Navy kidnapped and is holding Mrs. Clause and their 9001 Elves as leverage over Santa as they force fed him the Conversari-Conversari Fruit because Santa doesn't like Cold Fruits he loves Hot Fresh Cookies The only way to lure him out is a plate of cookies cooked in a forest Fire the size of Pompeii and a cold glass of Milk as tall as the Eiffel Tower that was chilled in the Artic Sea. After defeating Santa Luffy and his Crew discover Santa was used by the Navy so they set sail to the north Artic to rescue the Jingle Nation's Citizens where they find The Man behind it all an Admiral Called Grinch Sourmilk. He has The Power of the Wrap-Wrap fruit and his power to encase in anything he touches slowly overtime with Enhanced Haki Tape and Prism Stone Lined Navy themed wrapping paper. The reason he volunteered to overwatch the The Jingle Nation was because he always hated Christmas because 27 years ago one cold Christmas morning he had nothing to eat but snow and salt and never had presents until one day he was recruited by a Navy Officer to work as a Janitor on his ship after the Crew had recently got attacked at sea by sea monster fish half of the crew quit or had never survived the journey. He was told by the Navy Official if he ever wanted to leave his impoverished lifestyle and to be able to never look back again he must leave this small port town at the break of dawn tomorrow. 17 year old Grinch had felt like after hitting rock bottom he's finally moving up in the world and sneaked upon the vessel at sunset the very same day and even stole a uniform from one of the fallen recruits that perished at sea and in the right hand pocket was a small fruit unbeknownst to Grinch that it was a devil fruit as his stomach growled violently as his fingers traced the outer skin of the plumpy red fruit and chomped on it without a second thought to who could be watching him grave robbing. Unfortunately due to the power of the Wrap-Wrap fruit any presents Grinch gets for his Birthdays or Christmases ends up getting wrapped again along with the person giving him the gift. A miserable experience for Grinch as he never has been able to open any gift he's ever received also the person that gave Grinch the gift is also to be wrapped in the Stone Prism Lined Paper alive leaving them to suffocate and die. The families of these victims are horrified each and every year their kin are returned to them and left at the front doorstep as a deceased Bow Wrapped Navy themed corpse with the paper slightly damp with tears of fear and pain. Grinch doesn't have any enemies or at least not for very long because he fights dirty always going for the weak first and attacks members of the victim's family without warning. No one is brave enough to stand against him. His peers revere him as a god because he keeps an iron fist in shutting down pirate crews before they even make headlines on the local town newspapers but Grinch hates them because he hates being stared at when in public because he gets this weird feeling he's gonna be asked something but they never say a word and just stand and stare making things awkward as it wastes his precious spare time. He enjoys anything he can drink through a straw and hates anything he has to touch with his hand to eat because he ends up just magically wrapping it in paper instead unable to control his powers. He wears regular wool gloves and sunglasses even when he sleeps!

[gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot]

Chapter 9 Part 2: Ne cede malis

Triggers: none important, fluff at the end

Previous / Masterlist / Next

They drove mostly in silence, with Ghost swerving left and right to avoid a fallen tree here, a bigger rock there, and correcting their path when she indicated a change of direction.

‘‘It was on purpose’’ Riot muttered, her eyes on their surroundings but not really seeing anything, lost in thought. Ghost looked at her briefly from the corner of his eye. She still had the balaclava pulled down to her neck.

‘‘What was on purpose?’’

‘‘Sending us to that building. We weren’t exactly Rico’s favourites’’ She continued, more for herself than for him. ‘‘God knows we didn’t see eye to eye in anything. I was sceptic when he sent us there, I should have trusted my gut’’

‘‘He gave you orders, what could you have done?’’ Soap’s voice came out of the comm, surprising them both.

‘‘Why are you on the feed, Soap?’’

‘‘Everyone else is either resting, checking things or arguing. I volunteered to keep an eye and an ear on my bestest friends in the whole world’’ The Scotman’s voice was as cheery as ever, they could almost imagine his big grin, and against her will, Riot smiled.

‘‘What would we do without you, Johnny…’’

‘‘Don’t tell him that, his head is big enough as it is’’

‘‘That hurts my feelings, Lt!’’

‘‘Cry me a river, MacTavish’’ Ghost smirked under his mask, listening to Soap’s curses in Scottish. ‘‘But he’s right, Riot. You were given orders’’

‘‘I could have entered alone’’ She answered, looking at the trees again. Her left hand rose slowly until it started rubbing the scar. Maybe that was why it was so red and raw, from her rubbing it when riddled with anxiety. Maybe that was also why she used the mask, to avoid rubbing at it in public. ‘‘There was something wrong in that op, and I knew from the start. I should…’’

‘‘Haud yer wheesht!’’ Soap huffed. ‘‘Shut up with that! Not your effing fault! It was theirs!’’

‘‘Listen to him’’ Ghost said, low, his eyes still on the path they were taking and trying to keep the jeep steady enough in the rough terrain of the forest. Riot sighed, lowering her eyes to her lap, where she was holding both the tablet and her helmet, which still had traces of blood on the shell.

‘‘They dropped a missile on us as if we were nothing. Erased us from existence’’ She snorted sadly. ‘‘They filed us as MIA right away, Laswell had to dig to overturn my file and declare me as still alive. Late to recover my shit though’’

‘‘What do you mean?’’

‘‘Rico had our lockers and rooms cleared out the following day, for what Laswell told me. Sent trinkets to my squad’s families and sold the rest or whatever’’ She sighed, deeply, her eyes glaring at the blood on her helmet. ‘‘My motorbike needed fixing and was at the garage, that’s why I still have it, that and the things I had stored in a Big Yellow storage unit. What was in my room and locker is gone. Clothes, books, CDs, my guitar…’’

Ghost said nothing at that. He had read her file instigated by Price, because as a Lieutenant, it was his duty to know about his soldiers, and thus he knew that Riot’s parents were dead, she had no siblings or other relatives, and had listed no next of kin to notify in case of her demise. She was to be cremated if her body could be retrieved, and her ashes given to the sea.

If she died, it would be as if she had never existed.

‘‘Fooking bastards, the lot of them’’ Soap sighed in the comm. ‘‘Mum told ya to put her down as your next of kin, Chris. Yer family’’

‘‘I like your mother too much to make her suffer twice, Johnny’’

‘‘Yeah, well, she’d say… oh, Cap’s here’’ There was a moment of silence until Price started speaking. ‘‘How long until you get to exfil?’’

‘‘About fifty minutes at this speed, sir’’ Riot informed after checking the tablet.

‘‘Heli is on the way already, Gaz is coordinating with the pilot’’ Price’s voice sounded tired. ‘‘How are you two holding up?’’

‘‘Fine’’ Ghost grunted, swerving around a bigger pile of rocks and a fallen tree, following Riot’s hand signals when she corrected their path using the tablet’s route. ‘‘No need for stims yet’’

‘‘I’d kill for a coffee’’ She sighed, and looked at Ghost, rising an eyebrow. ‘‘Is coffee still on once we arrive?’’

Ghost nodded with a low hmph, but she saw the corner of his eye narrowing, and she hoped that was the shadow of a smile.

‘‘What about you, Vega?’’

‘‘Well, apart from learning that I now lose my marbles when hearing an explosion, and that I was knowingly left to die under a demolished building… I’m fine, given the circumstances’’

‘‘Time to visit Dr. Green again and work it in therapy, kid’’

‘‘Don’t worry, I had an appointment with your wife in a couple of days anyway’’

Silence from the comm. Ghost chuckled under his mask, shaking his head.

‘‘Ok, who let it slip’’ Price grunted. It wasn’t exactly the best kept secret in base that he was married to the psychologist, but practically no one below his rank knew, apart from Ghost, Soap and Gaz.

‘‘She did, sir’’ Riot said in a perfectly innocent tone. ‘‘Dr. Heather told me once about her husband’s ‘magnificent muttonchops’, and who else in base has such splendid, glorious, fine muttonchops other than our dearest Captain?’’

‘‘Wha… WHAT’’ Price stammered, dumbfounded. There was also the sound of wheezing coming from the comm, no doubt from Soap losing his shit. Even Ghost was trying not to snort.

‘‘He’s fucking red as a tomato!’’

‘‘MacTavish, I swear to God…!’’

Riot giggled, with the same low, almost innocent giggle from the hill, looking at Ghost briefly with a bubbly, sweet smile that curved her lips sincerely and made her whole face and eyes lit up. He almost swerved into a tree, but managed to keep his hands firm on the steering wheel, looking at her from the corner of his eyes.

‘‘Get to fucking exfil asap’’

‘‘Roger’’ Ghost huffed, trying to hide a low chuckle at the flustered tone on Price’s voice. He could imagine Soap’s giggling, flustering the Captain even more.

‘‘Was it something I said?’’ Riot giggled again, trying to keep her innocent tone.

‘‘You’re a fucking menace’’ He muttered, hoping his fond tone would be muffled enough by the mask.

‘‘And you like it’’ She smiled sweetly, humming while checking the tablet, the comfortable silence falling over them again as they continued to the exfil point.

-

When they got there, the helicopter hadn’t arrived yet and they couldn’t even hear it. Ghost parked the jeep close to the river bank, and both got off the vehicle and recovered their backpacks.

‘‘We have to strap this fucker in and push it in the river’’ Riot grunted, pulling from Floyd’s arms and trying to drag him to the driver’s seat. Ghost allowed her to manhandle the corpse as she pleased, focused on checking their surroundings and waiting until she had the dead officer more or less secured into the seat.

Between both of them they managed to push the vehicle into the river, where it sank fairly quick, leaving only bubbles behind that slowly faded into nothing.

‘‘Base, we’re at exfil, chopper is no-show’’ Ghost grunted into the comm.

‘‘The bird is on the way, stand by’’ Gaz’s voice informed. ‘‘Price is ordering the plane to be ready, he wants us to leave as soon as you get here. Get off the chopper and board the plane’’

‘‘Copy’’

‘‘Ugh, into the plane without changing or having a shower… how nice’’ Riot sighed, rubbing again at her scar.

‘‘We can do that when we arrive’’ Ghost rolled his shoulders and then his neck, just as tired as she was. ‘‘Before or after that coffee’’

‘‘Coffee’’ She sighed dreamily, her fingers still rubbing and massaging the mangled flesh, and he just couldn’t stop himself before his hand grabbed hers to force it to stop. She looked up at him, surprised, but he just shrugged and released her hand.

‘‘Stop rubbing it’’

‘‘Why? It will get worse?’’ She snorted, looking away. ‘‘It already is. It won’t get better. It’s fucking hideous. I’m…’’

‘‘Don’t’’

Riot turned her eyes to him again, shocked at his tone, and even more shocked when she saw him yank off his glove and then cup her cheek with his hand, covering the scar with his warm, almost burning palm. His thumb gently brushed her chin, forcing her to tilt her head up so his eyes were directly on hers.

She parted her lips to say something, her hand going up to circle his wrist with her fingers and feel his pulse, and it that moment they heard the sound of the helicopter approaching from the other side of the river, appearing on the horizon over the woods.

Ghost released her face, and grabbed his backpack to move out of the way, pulling his glove on again. After a second, she did the same, remembering her balaclava and putting it back in place, covering her mouth and nose.

‘‘Hi, Stork’’ Riot whispered when the helicopter was close enough to distinguish its colours, and both waited for it to be low enough to duck and run towards it. Ghost threw his backpack inside and got in, pulling from her hand to help her. When both where secured in their seats the chopper started to soar again.

‘‘Welcome back, babies, how was the trip?’’

‘‘It went fine’’ Riot said plainly, leaning her head with relief against the wall and closing her eyes. ‘‘Did you have any problems going back and getting here?’’

‘‘Nothing to report, sweetie. There’s water and some energy bars if you two are hungry. I’ve been told to inform you that when we land in Latvia you have to board the plane right away’’

‘‘Thank you’’ She sighed and started rummaging in the box to grab a bottle of water, offering another to Ghost. He nodded and lifted his balaclava over his nose to drink a long swig.

They made their way back in silence, chewing half-heartedly on an energy bar, their knees brushing whenever one of them moved to adjust in their seat.

Ghost could still feel the softness of her skin in his palm. He found himself opening and closing his hand, his eyes darting to her smaller form from time to time, thankful for the mask and the grease and the penumbra in the helicopter cargo cabin. Maybe she wouldn’t notice. Maybe he wanted her to notice. He wasn’t even sure of what he was fucking doing anymore.

Her. Fucking hell, he wanted her. She made him want things. She made him want, and he wasn’t sure how to deal with it yet. Her soft skin in his hand, he could have sworn there had been a tiny touch of pink on her cheekbones. And her eyes. Damned if he knew what was behind those blue eyes to make him crave it so much. He wondered what would have happened if the chopper had arrived later. Would he have kissed her? Leant in to capture those rosy lips with his and stop her from continuing degrading herself needlessly. Would she have kissed him back or would she have pushed him away?

Riot could still feel the warmth of his palm on her cheek, soothing the neverending dull ache of her scar. She found herself thinking about it over and over again, her eyes darting to his massive frame from time to time, thankful for the penumbra in the cargo cabin. Maybe he wouldn’t notice her glancing at him and looking away like a lovesick teenager. Maybe she was hoping he would. She wasn’t even sure of what she was hoping for anymore.

Him. She just wanted him. He made her think she wasn’t broken, or damaged goods. He had heard her say out loud she had been used, and he still had touched her afterwards. He made her want him, he made her feel safe, and she didn’t know how to deal with those feelings. She had asked him to not stop, and he had complied, even after seeing her face, after hearing what she had gone through, after seeing her murder a man in cold blood.

She felt the heat in her face, remembering his body behind her, his arm around her, his voice in her ear encouraging her while they both strangled Floyd to death. How sick was she that the mere thought made her thighs quiver and her heart skip a beat. The things she’d do to hear his voice. The things she’d do to see his eyes on her. The things she’d do for him, and to him.

If only the damned helicopter had arrived later.

‘‘ETA Ten minutes, babies’’

‘‘Copy’’ Ghost grunted, rolling his neck and sitting up in his seat, which was definitely too small for him.

‘‘Gracias’’ Riot muttered tiredly, rubbing her eyes.

‘‘Sleepy?’’ He muttered back, his voice rumbling low, just as tired as her now that the adrenalin and the tension of the mission was wearing off.

‘‘Yeah… I won’t be able to sleep on the plane though… Can’t sleep on things that move’’

‘‘If you’re tired enough, you will’’ Ghost shook his head, the hint of a chuckle in the air. ‘‘You just have to fall asleep before Soap’’

‘‘Tough mission, that one’’ She laughed, her shoulders shaking lightly.

The UN base was already on sight. It didn’t took long until the helicopter landed and they could get off to see the plane in which they had arrived the previous day in the neighbouring runway. Price, Gaz and Soap were waiting for them on the tarmac, right by the boarding stairs. Before going to them, Riot turned and patted the helicopter’s open door.

‘‘Thank you, Stork’’ She whispered, patting the metal one last time before grabbing her backpack and walking towards the plane. Ghost fell back for a second, grabbing his and making sure nothing was left in the cabin, and then, softly, hit the door with his fist twice before following her.

The first one to greet them was Gaz, who patted both their shoulders with a smile before continuing on towards the helicopter to speak with Rojas.

When they both tiredly dragged themselves closer Soap was already there, arms open wide and his signature grin on his lips, sincerely happy to see their friends back. Everyone should have someone like Johnny, Riot thought, right before dropping her backpack, lowering her balaclava and melting into her friend’s arms, who closed around her, holding her tight.

‘‘Johnny, can’t breathe’’ She laughed, burying her face against his neck and clinging to him. In response, Soap tightened his embrace, swaying a bit while humming loudly, making her laugh louder. Ghost patted his shoulder fondly when he got to them.

‘‘I have space for one more, Lt!’’ Soap extended one arm towards him, his grin widening. Riot giggled seeing Ghost step back.

‘‘No way in hell, MacTavish’’

‘‘Awww, you’re no fun’’ Soap exhaled a full on belly-laugh, lifting Riot from the ground and twirling with her. ‘‘At least one of my friends loves me’’

‘‘Set me down, you bloody moron!’’ Despite her words, she kept laughing.

‘‘Get in the plane, muppet’’ Price was smiling indulgently, arms crossed. ‘‘I want to speak with these two catastrophes before we leave. That’ll give Gaz enough time to do whatever the fuck he’s doing’’

Ghost looked back at the chopper, next to which Gaz and Rojas were chatting lively, and then looked back again at Price, waiting. Soap released Riot from his grip and went up the boarding stairs carrying both their backpacks, and she moved to stand beside Ghost in front of the Captain.

‘‘To say Kate is not happy would be an understatement’’ Price sighed, eyeing them both up and down. ‘‘I couldn’t care less about that sleazy bastard, but I hope the voice recorder and the phone you got from him will have enough worthy intel to make up for it’’

‘‘We also have the tablet, his wallet, his tags, and a full set of cards and different IDs he seemed to have used’’ Riot said, back to the soft, calm tone she usually had. ‘‘It’s all in my backpack, sir’’

‘‘Hmph’’Price nodded, and then, finally, patted their arms briefly. ‘‘Good job. Now board. Go freshen up in the toilet or something to make yourselves comfortable, I bet you’re fucking sore and eager to get all that off’’

Riot nodded and started going up the stairs, but Price stopped Ghost before he could follow her.

‘‘I want your honest opinion’’ The Captain muttered, and when the other man nodded, continued speaking. ‘‘About her. In the field’’

‘‘She’s good’’ Ghost said, looking up at her until she disappeared inside the plane, and then down at Price. ‘‘Damned good, actually. Stealthy, ruthless, resolute and relentless’’

‘‘So she is a good fit for Task Force 141’’ Price nodded, looking satisfied with Ghost’s answer. ‘‘Good to know, I like her’’

Ghost said nothing at that. Of the whole team, Price was who he trusted the most with his thoughts, the only one who knew him fully, who knew him before. And still… he couldn’t. Not yet. Tilting his head at Price, he started his way up the stairs to board the plane.

Price stared at him until the massive frame of his Lieutenant disappared inside, and then checked his mobile phone to send a text to his wife, warning her that they were going back home. After a moment, he sent a second one.

You were right we need a bigger dinner table, sweetheart. We have another kid.

-

It took Gaz another ten minutes before Price just hollered at him to hurry the fuck up, and by then, both Riot and Ghost had gone to the plane toilets to freshen themselves and get rid of their bulkiest gear.

Riot walked to the back of the plane as she had done on the way to Latvia, sighing when she saw Soap already lying down half asleep. When she got to the line with seats facing each other Ghost was already sitting there on the window seat, his legs stretched out in front of him on the opposite seat. He had got rid of the full skull mask to keep the simple black balaclava, a clean one it seemed, and he looked almost… peaceful, with his eyes closed.

She thought he was sleeping, and turned around to leave when a strong hand gripped her belt and loop of her cargo pants and pulled her back, making her fall ungracefully on the seat next to Ghost’s.

‘‘Sleep’’ He grunted, dragging her closer and wrapping an arm around her. Riot blinked, dumbfounded. This surely wasn’t happening.

‘‘Gh-… Simon…’’ She started, but changed her mind and decided to go along with it. She wiggled her way into the seat, moving around until she found the most comfortable position, with her back against his side, her legs stretched out and resting on the seat on the other side of the aisle, and her head resting on his shoulder and biceps while his arm was wrapped around her, keeping her in place against him.

Ghost waited patiently for her to settle, tutting from time to time when she was restless and decided to change positions, but when she finally stopped, his grip tightened around her.

‘‘Go to sleep, Johnny’s not snoring yet’’ He mumbled, trying to relax in the seat too small for him.

‘‘You’re not disgusted by today?’’ She whispered suddenly, and he sighed, turning his head until he rested it on hers, feeling the scent of her soft hair even through the balaclava.

‘‘One day, lovie, when we’re ready, I’ll tell you a story’’ He whispered back, and she could swear she could feel the rumble in his chest against her back, shaking her to her very core.

‘‘What if one of us is ready and the other isn’t?’’ She whispered softly, snuggling into him and feeling comforted by the weight of his arm around her. For a moment, she wished he had chosen the other side of the aisle. That way maybe she’d be able to listen to his heartbeat.

‘‘Then we wait for the other’’ He muttered, half asleep by then, lulled by the sound of her breathing and the scent of her hair.

‘‘Deal…’’ She hummed, brushing her cheek against his shoulder when she nodded right before drifting off into sleep.

[iamfina5]

The Kinslayer Couple

Summary: The ground falls out from beneath Valaena Velaryon���s feet within the span of a week. The week begins with the death of her grandsire, making her mother queen and her Princess of Dragonstone. It ends with the death of her brother Lucerys at the hands of her husband, Aemond Targaryen. From there, Valaena embarks on a perilous journey to win a war against her own kin, forced to discern who are friends and who are foes on both sides of the conflict.

Chapter Twenty-Three: Gray Satin

First Prev/Next

135 A.C.

Upon the discovery of Hugh Hammer’s and Ulf White’s deaths in Flea Bottom, a revelation which rocked the Red Keep, Jacaerys sends a brief notice to his sister. Two days later, his betrothed arrives in King’s Landing, intent on claiming one of the fallen dragonriders’ mounts.

Rhaenyra, approving of the idea, sends Jacaerys and Aegon along with Baela, bidding they try for the dragons, as well. In the castle yard, Joffrey begs Jacaerys to permit him to join them, tugging on his arm with his round face shining up at him. Guiltily, Jacaerys refuses, stating that there is no need as he has Tyraxes. Joffrey shuffles away, dejected, as Jacaerys stifles a frown and climbs into the carriage after Aegon.

At the Dragonpit, Aegon is timid around both Vermithor and Silverwing, not daring to come closer than a few yards to either beast. Jacaerys makes a lackluster attempt to claim Vermithor, but as soon as the old dragon’s hackles rise, he retreats. He would rather not burn for the chance to claim a dragon, certainly not when Vermax is so recent in his memory.

Baela is fearless as she approaches Silverwing and not hesitant in the least. It is this boldness, he thinks, which lends to her success. Silverwing bows her head and extends one winged arm, and Baela practically scrambles up her back. Her smile gleams like her new mount’s silver scales as the beast treads out of the Dragonpit, and even amidst the ache that has lived in his soul since this war started, he feels his heart warm with hers.

Rhaenyra treats Baela to a feast upon her return from her victory lap in the sky. She commends her on her bravery, and a dozen lords toast Baela the Brave. A score of fat, roast quails are served. Jacaerys picks at his, his stomach roiling from emptiness and regret as he watches its mostly intact carcass be carried away at the end of the night.

The next morning, Baela suggests they marry forthwith, and he refuses anew. She asks him why, fixing him with a hard, unhappy stare. When he gives no answer, she leaves him and returns to Dragonstone. He swallows his sense of dread and guilt, swirling low in his gut, for having disappointed her yet again.

In the afternoon, a short riot erupts near the harbor, crushed by the City Watch but not forgotten. There is another the next day. A skirmish a week later. After a fortnight, Celtigar decrees that traitors, rebels, and murderers will be beheaded in the Dragonpit, and their corpses fed to the queen’s dragons, with the cost of three pennies to witness the fates of such evil men. The next moon is mostly quiet. 

In its midst, a peasant woman with long, black hair arrives from the riverlands, praying for an audience with the queen. Jacaerys thinks nothing of her until the request is granted. Later that evening, he finds Rhaenyra staring out at the sea, the turmoil of the bay’s waters reflected in her eyes.

The following evening, the strange woman meets with his mother again, alongside Celtigar and the Manderly brothers. Late in the night, a guard discovers a maidservant impaled on the spikes beneath Maegor’s Holdfast. When Jacaerys raises the matter, Rhaenyra seems unconcerned, inexplicably believing the woman to have slipped when cleaning the windows.

Within a week, she dismisses Addam from his post in the Dragonpit, invoking resentment from Corlys. Her Hand complains of the disfavor shown to his grandson after all the loyalty the boy has shown his queen throughout this war, but Rhaenyra brushes him off. The war is near over, she reasons, let the dragonseeds be returned to Driftmark. Jacaerys has to persuade his grandsire from joining Addam himself.

The next edict from Her Grace is just as erratic, though it does not evoke the same cause for concern in Jacaerys as did her others. She summons to the Red Keep King Daemon and Princess Valaena, demanding audiences with them both. Daemon arrives after three days, disappearing into Rhaenyra’s rooms with her as soon as he enters the castle. When Veraxes and Silverwing are spotted on the horizon later in the afternoon, Jacaerys embarks to collect their riders.

On this trip to the Dragonpit, Joffrey absolutely refuses to be left behind. All the way through the city, he jabbers to Jacaerys about everything that has captured his attention of late, the two of them not having spoken at length for some time.

Upon arriving at the Dragonpit, they find Valaena, Baela, and Aenar waiting for them. Daeron joins them, as well, having already mounted a destrier to escort them back to the Keep.

Keep Reading

[deadlyflan]

32.) What was the first thing you've made for TMNT?

38.) Do you generally stick close to canon, or diverge from it?

oooOOOooo! Thank you!

32.) The very first thing i made for TMNT is lost to the ages, but it was a pencil drawing of Raphael on loose leaf paper during a 'study hall' break in the school library sitting at a table with a bunch of third grade boys. I was the only girl at the table and they were drawing "war zone turtle fights," but their drawings of the turtles looked like stick figures with a blob shell on their back. So I wiped out some paper and drew a turtle with muscles. Completely blew them away. I was included with the remaining turtle fight drawings.

[*Flexing*] Oh yeah, I impressed some third graders.

The first thing i made for online fandom is still posted. It's such a 'baby's first fanfic.' If you're into cringe from 2002, you can could still read it here (when fanfiction.net fixes itself. As of 6:30pm(EST) on 7/13/24, the site is temporarily down.) The fic is called "Hanami." It's got 'boys meet girl turtles, none of the trigger warnings it should have, and a very, very, very minimal plot.

Mostly, I hadn't heard of IRC or forums and was using the comments section to make fandom friends.

38.) I love exploring the nooks and crannies of canon. I tend to write canon divergent fic. I'll start from a time and location in canon that we all know and understand, then add a twist and go from there.

I do love reading completely wild AUs, though. So maybe someday I'll write a completely untethered AU... like...

The year is 1863, and it's sweltering hot even at night in the early summer days in New York City. The city may have its American born citizens, but waves of immigrants continually flood the streets, looking for work and settling their families into tenements and rented rooms.

The Jones family are English stock. The O'Neils are Irish. Neither of them have been in the States for more than two generations. Their kids have been running gangs and throwing glass bottles at each other for longer than April (she goes by Abe) has been able to fit into her brother's hand-me-downs.

Spunky and cutthroat, Abe led a squad of red-headed cousins into an ambush on the Jones boys in the alleyways behind old Leatherhead's Ironworks and Ferrier Shop. The attack went sideways in the darkening twilight and spooked horses bolt from their stalls. Casey, April, and all their cousins are in the path of rearing horses and stomping hooves.

From the shadows, shouts in a strange language-- Strong bodies-- Coordinated movements-- Helping hands that jerk the children out of harm's way-- It's a miraculous rescue!! There's four ROMA boys, covered in masks and caps, loose shirts and pants corralling the horses and quieting the scene.

It's hard to tell much about them in the darkness, but one steps forward to speak. In accented English, he scolds them. "You could have hurt the horses. Get out of here. Play your war games somewhere else!"

Candle light glows behind the shutters of a window on the second floor. A second one of the boys calls, "Mr. Leatherhead's awake. You're in for it now!"

Abe and Casey trade looks and whistle for their kin. As they're turning to bolt before the blacksmith comes downstairs, the shutters bang open and square of light falls into the alley. Right on top of the Roma boy. Abe spots that his GREEN foot only has TWO toes! "Wait--what's ?!?"

Abe is pulled away by one of her larger cousins. "C'mon! We can't be the last ones here!" He spits at the ground just in front of their saviors just to prove that no Irishman ever ran from some Roma punks. Then he drags Abe away to disappear into the warren of streets around the Five Points Slum.

...Then a whole historical fiction fic set during the Civil War years in New York City, climaxing during the Draft Riots in NYC in July of 1863, where the turtles and Splinter are sacred members of a larger extended family of Romanichal Travellers who have taken up residence in the tenement behind the blacksmith's shop.

Terrible prejudices guide just about every social interaction in the bustling city, but Mr. Leatherhead doesn't seem to mind anyone's family roots. Abe has heard horrifying stories of gypsies--and she's seen one's misshapen foot! Perhaps they are subhuman demons!

Or perhaps--when the Union Army tries to press every man in her Irish immigrant family into service and the city erupts in violence and fire--Those incredible Roma boys, their very human extended family, and maybe even that idiot Englishman Casey Jones... are the right sort of people to have in her corner.

... but i already have two other HUGE WIPs in progress.

And three silly little fics that I'm probably going to overthink.

AND this fic would need SO MUCH RESEARCH to be as sensitively written as possible, because Roma, Travellers, Romanichal are real, actual people with a diverse and chronically misrepresented culture. There's still ACTIVE anti-Roma prejudice all over Europe/UK/US... um... and everywhere? It's bad. It's something I would have to be VERY VERY careful about writing.

Also, I want to get the history right too! Writing about anything touching the Civil War has to be done with care--I'm pro-Union, but not everyone in the story would be, some because of their views on slavery and others simply because they didn't want to be drafted. I would want to set out the story in a way that was clear, but neither preachy nor callous.

But mostly... if I'm going to make the TMNT and Splinter a set of kickass Roma family members, I don't want to turn the culture I'm pulling from into a cartoon.

Side note, if anyone IS Roma, or even more specifically, Romanichal, and wouldn't mind doing some cultural consulting for this fic, I would love to speak with you!

ETA for fic publishing... uh... with the speed I write, I'll post it for my 60th birthday. So, sometime in the year 2040.

[helmetkeeper]

https://www.tumblr.com/soldier-requests/742779174051364864/hello-can-i-ask-for-a-playlist-for-a?source=share

hello, sorry for not specifying. nothing from a certain media, the kintype in general. but if a character can help with it, something like Barbatos from obey me!, but I don't kin him. he isn't stated as a realitywarper anyway-

and about songs.. things like Six Forty Seven by insupendo ; Solitude from Candlemass and Vermillion by Slipknot?

thank you for your hardwork :). [please tag @orderling when you're done.]

hello!! okay i gotcha now, thanks for clarifying; hopefully you like whatever i ended up finding ^_^.

and thank you! i appreciate the compliment :]].

(@orderling)

under a cut because this one's pretty long XD.

songs go like "song" + "artist"

dividers from @/just-my-latest-hyperfixation and @/baexywth

"Falling" + "Instupendo"

"128" + "machingum"

"This Could Build Us a Home" + "The Garden"

"Where Is My Mind" + "Safari Riot" and "Grayson Sanders"

"Vanished" + "Crystal Castles"

"Suffer With Me" + "líue"

"LOVELY BASTARDS" + "ZWE1HVNDXR" and "yatashigang"

"Catalysts for Her Awakening" + "Avith Ortega"

"Insidious" + "joseph bishara"

"The Sound Of Your Fear" + "Midi Blossom"

"Key" + "C418"

"It's Playtime" + "MOB Games"

"Browser History" + "Graham Kartna"

"A Burning Memory" + "Reece Moseley"

"warm nights" + "Xori"

"Lavender Town" + "8-Bit Arcade"

"Lavender Town" + "Bitmaster"

"you not the same" + "TileKid"

"Judah's Lullaby" + "REPULSIVE"

"Kyomi's Lullaby" + "REPULSIVE"

"バラック集落" (In English: "Barrack Settlements" or "Barracks") + "Kikiyama"

"PP1" + "Frakkur"

"Deep Swim" + "Windows 96"

"Sony" + "VHS LOGOS"

"Implanted Memories" + "Infinity Frequencies"

"The descent" + "Infinity Frequencies"

"Agony" (Instrumental) + "Scammacist"

"Echoes of Tranquility" + "Nocturne"

"Stars Will Fall" + "Duster"

"Choking on Flowers" + "Fox Academy"

"Dust Collector" + "YG Hypnos"

"Memoir #02 [06.12.09]" + "Maria Pseftoga" and "May Roosevelt"

"The Lobotomy" + "Maebi"

"Year Zero" + "Ghost"

"Con Clavi Con Dio" + "Ghost"

"Prime Mover" + "Ghost"

"Call Me Little Sunshine" + "Ghost"

"The Killer in My Skull" + "Alastor"

"I'll Cut You Down" + "Uncle Acid & The Deadbeats"

"Them!" + "Acid Mammoth"

"Strong Reflection" + "Mars Red Sky"

"Prehistoric Dog" + "Red Fang"

"The Culling" + "Chelsea Wolfe"

"Christ is Dead" + "Crypt Sermon"

"Beneath the Torchfire Glare" + "Crypt Sermon"

"Mare of the Night" + "Below"

"The Coven" + "Below"

"Seeds of the Desolate" + "Solitude Aeturnus"

"Fallen Empire" + "Dawn Of Winter"

"Ragnaradi Eve" + "Scald"

"In the Open Sea" + "Scald"

"Black Colossus" + "Funeral Circle"

"Scion of Infinity" + "Funeral Circle"

"Spiritus Mortis" + "I Am a Name on Your Funeral Wreath"

"Lost Horizons" + "Memento Mori"

"The Sword Woman" + "Smoulder"

"The Poltergeist" + "Count Raven"

"Beyond the Horizon" + "Isole"

"Among the Exalted" + "Godthrymm"

"Wolf God" + "Grand Magus"

"Here Be Monsters" + "Apocalypse Orchestra"

"Bring Me To Life" + "Evanescence"

"Break Stuff" + "Limp Bizkit"

"Bodies" + "Drowning Pool"

"Down with the Sickness" + "Disturbed"

"Yuve Yuve Yu" + "The HU"

"Up to the Flames" + "Ludovico Technique"

"Framed In Blood" (Remastered 2006) + "The 69 Eyes"

"Heavy Lies The Crown" + "In Fear And Faith"

"Last Man Stranded" + "In Fear And Faith"

"A Fire On A Hill" + "Hands Like Houses"

"Let Me In" + "Dead Silence Hides My Cries"

"Murder Mitten" + "I See Stars"

"Melancholia" + "Dark Sarah"

"Every Little Thing" + "Dishwalla"

"The Air-Conditioned Nightmare" + "Mr. Bungle"

"The Diary Of Jane" + "Breaking Benjamin"

"Truth" + "Seether"

"Woohoo" + "Fleshwater"

"Waking the Demon" + "Bullet For My Valentine"

"Orchid" (Remastered 2014) + "Black Sabbath"

"Neon Knights" (Remastered 2008) + "Black Sabbath"

"Holy Diver" + "Dio"

"Rainbow in the Dark" + "Dio"

"Anesthesia" + "Type O Negative"

"Nettie" + "Type O Negative"

"Love You to Death" + "Type O Negative"

"Haunted" (Per Version) + "Type O Negative"

"Rev 22-20" + "Puscifer"

"Dragonaut" + "Sleep"

[thetorturerwrites]

I've Got You: Ch 14

Summary:  “You think we’re gonna be able to do this?” He asked, wanting to believe you could do anything. He didn’t want to doubt you, but he had to admit he had them about this.

“Here we go,��� she murmured, turning the Bronco off the main road and maneuvering it into position on one of the smaller backcountry tracks.

When the car came to a full stop, he eased out of the passenger side as quietly as he could, folding up the seat so he could jerk the prisoner out from the back seat.

The time for infiltration was at hand.

A/N: As always, thank you for being here if you are. <3

Reminder: The Keep Reading link directs you to AO3. I only post a blurb of this fic here as a test to see which way I like better. So, when it directs you there, it isn’t broken.

***

The drive from one mountain to another was torturous in far too many ways for Clyde’s liking. Bumpy was an understatement. The road twisted and turned something fierce, and the potholes were so deep the axle of the vehicle jerked and jolted with each drop. He spent the ride anxious that he wouldn’t be able to keep you safe. He was angry at the rat bastard grumbling in the back of Betty’s Bronco, and being last in the line of cars didn’t help Clyde feel better about any of this. It still felt like you were trying to keep him too far away so he’d be the safe one.

Worst of all of it, though, was the downright nasty way his detainee smelled - rot and piss and booze. Clyde wanted to unhook his fancy new arm and beat the man to death with it for simply still existing. After all Roy put everyone through, he deserved at least that for his sins.

“Hey.”

Clyde was so lost to his thoughts that he didn’t register the voice speaking to his left.

“Clyde.” Betty said again, a little louder this time. “Hey! Clyde!”

He blinked rapidly and turned towards her, watching her adjust her blue ball cap over thick red waves. Swallowing down his self-pity bullshit, Clyde nodded.

“Shit. Sorry Betty. Y’good?”

She nodded, pulling her cap lower over her eyes and rolling down the driver’s side window. These mountain monsters were so old she had to hand crank it down, but this was an important part of the getaway plan. Easy access to the driver’s seat. There would be no time for fooling with doors. Clyde matched her action, rolling down the passenger side window.

“You think we’re gonna be able to do this?” He asked, wanting to believe you could do anything. He didn’t want to doubt you, but he had to admit he had them about this.

But when he turned his head back to look at Betty, she grinned like a maniac, which oddly bolstered his belief, too.

“Clyde,” she huffed a laugh, and he wrinkled his nose in return, entertained by her glee, “N’Case you couldn’t tell, we been living outside the law since before we could walk. Peggy and me…” She shrugged, the affection for her mate softening Betty’s features. “Different from the jump. Yeah?”

She reached out and gripped his shoulder, squeezing tight.

“I never felt more seen by my kin than in the last few months. With this shitbird,” she cocked her head to the side, gesturing back at Roy, “and his friends out, we can breathe. And your Alpha?” She grinned, ridiculously wide again. “Our Alpha? She’s fit to take over the goddamn world, I reckon.”

None of that was what Clyde expected Betty to say. Truth be told, he didn’t expect her to say hardly anything at all. Peggy was the talkative one, not this sweet, freckled beta. But it was exactly what he needed to hear. You weren’t just his alpha. You were the family alpha, and if he knew anything about you at all, he knew you’d run riot through every obstacle for your family.

“Here we go,” she murmured, turning the Bronco off the main road and maneuvering it into position on one of the smaller backcountry tracks.

Keep Reading

[slrsunfire]

Sneak Peak: Chapter 2 [A  Constellation Undiscovered]

Still working hard on finishing up the Tobirama Week piece I’ve been focusing on but I’m still making progress on this, too! Per your requests, here’s another little snippet from chapter 2 to tide you all over until I can finish it up. 🥰 Enjoy!! 

-------------

Takachiho is both everything Shisui expected it to be, and yet not.

The stories he has heard of the planet paint it as an oasis of greenery beyond compare and having wandered through Konoha’s own vast forests which he had previously believed to be the most vibrant and verdant in existence, Shisui cannot deny that the description is accurate. Takachiho far outstrips the forests of Konoha on every level. There is a wildness to Takachiho that Konoha could never hope to match, and Shisui regrets that they do not have time to explore it better. The trees are tall enough to rival some of the largest buildings on Konoha and decorated by long, winding vines that hang from their towering branches in every direction. A riot of lush plant life decorates the floor of the forest they have been winding through for the last hour, some of the foreign greenery almost as tall as Shisui and much of it blessed with broad, waxy leaves that glimmer in the low light of the red sun that has begun its slow descent towards the horizon. Shisui finds the air is thick with moisture, too, almost like the marshes that exist in the northern hemisphere on Naka, but it is far warmer than his home by a good deal.  

He had never thought he would come to Takachiho, at least not in his current lifetime. The planet is sacred to their people, for it is where Amaterasu, their most venerated goddess and the descendant of Emperor Madara and his kin, once retreated to following a rather bad spat with her brother and hid herself away in retaliation. In no other place it is possible to feel her presence like you can on Takachiho, where her first steps from the heavens down onto their mortal plane were burnt into the rock upon which Amaterasu’s oldest temple was eventually built.

This is where their people were brought into being and even though it has long since ceased to be a home to the Uchiha following the religious reformation Emperor Tetsuo enacted a thousand years previous, it remains a precious jewel within their vast empire. It is a place of pilgrimage for their faithful and it has, until now, remained barred from those that do not carry Uchiha blood.

Shisui dares a glance down at the slack, deceptively peaceful visage of the prince consort who is laid out on the medical bed hovering along beside him and wonders yet again what they might expect upon their arrival at Takachiho’s temple and monastery. Prince Tobirama is not of Uchiha blood, but he is a member of the royal house, and the spouse of Amaterasu’s mortal descendant. If they refuse to grant them sanctuary and tend to Prince Tobirama, Shisui will not know what to do.  

He has taken care to see that Emperor Madara’s coat remains draped over Prince Tobirama, just to underscore the privilege and due respect the prince should be given despite being so clearly human. It is risky, what he is attempting, but he has already prayed for Amaterasu’s mercy despite not being overly religious himself. It is now out of their hands. He knows that what will be, will be, regardless of what he desires, and all he can do is hope he has made the right decision in bringing Prince Tobirama to Takachiho. 

[teeto-peteto]

“Allow characters to have more than one emotion?” Oh no, Riot can’t do that, otherwise players will complain about why the characters talk so much.” (All of this is sarcasm, in case it wasn’t clear.) I swear, sometimes it feels like people want voice lines to go back to minute long carousel rides.

…Anyway. Vent over.

vent is not over

This is a perfect statement. Unless you're talking about Mordekaiser.

Anyone remembers when Project: Mordekaiser dropped and everyone started loosing their shit and claimed THIS was the best legendary skin in the game? How easy everyone threw down the river Dark Cosmic Jhin.

But they give a GIRL champion ONE more range of emotion and they fucking loose their shit. Male champions get full armored rad skins and everyone claps and make fan edits with the quotes and female champions get their splashart upside down and a reddit post saying 'Ok guys do you think they made her boobs bigger or nah?'.

Literally Ashe gets pushed away for speaking and in the meantime Viego is literally speaking his whole life and everyone goes like 'Wow... this slaps for an instagram reel with his quotes and stolen fanart'.

Riot does not want to put effort. Even now they are cutting down minutes of legendary and definitive skins voice lines to 8 minutes cause well they want the money money but they dont want to pay pay actors.

Riot constantly gives the 'thicc tiddy' skins to female champions. If they do to male champions, its because in their canon model they are shirtless/wearing revealing clothes etc (for example, Rakan or Sylas). Coven constantly gives this skins to female champions and then give a cool monster/spirit to male champions. Yes, covens are always composed of women, as star guardians are based on the magical girl trope and we still have Ezreal and Ekko there. Do we actually NEED to be 'historically correct' about coven?! Motherfuckers put girls in ridiculous clothing to call them witchy and then try to be historically correct. And they give the guys the cool skins. For what?! Cant we have an Old god Bel'Veth? Cant we have any female champion actually turn into monstruous eldritch horror? If they want to be so calculative and respectful to 'feminist part of history' then do this?

3. The community sucks and its mostly formed by dick-in-hand men. They see titty on a girl they go ooga booga. If the champion speaks and doesnt say anything cool rad about darkness and killing and slavering people then they loose interest and cry. 'Shut up woman i dont care'. In the end we will turn back to the 1 minute carousel lines cause nobody gives a flying fuck about what characters say. The amount of videos/shorts/reels i have seen recently about champion quotes theres not even ONE said by a woman champion. They always quote something corny about Sett being strong whatever. They always quote Viego in a romantic way, as if provoking mass genocide with the excuse of 'love' wasnt a red flag enough. They quote Mordekaiser (literally a torturer and an slaver, yeah...). But hey, i guess they are easy to harvest so Riot will keep producing for them.

ranted more than i expected but well :^)

small note: i do not care about anyones favourite character. You like Mordekaiser? Awesome. You like Viego? Go my dear, you can fix him i believe in you. You like Ashe? Thats so cool. I do not shame anyone's character/fictional other/kin at all. Everything i say just applies to heteronormative male that presents a huge percentage of lol players and active twitter users that bombards Riot.

[mahoukincare-archive]

Kirishima Eijiro icons for @jokercore

[plusultrakincore]

Kin Ask Game ; Eijirou Kirishima / red + orange / ✨🪐🧸 ( wallpapers )

[careforyourkinself]

Eijiro Kirishima - My Hero Academia Self Care

Cherry Bomb Sugar Scrub | Very Manly Solid Cologne | Kirishima Inspired Candle |

Red Riot Keychain | Red Riot Mask |

The Great Wave Soap | Courage Clay Hair Pomade | Inner Strength Aromatherapy Spray |

[ignis-venenatus]

dragon-red-link-and-ocs​:

“I know but…I want to tell you…”

He said as he just gripped the other tighter as he took a deep breath, and continued to explain, it wasn’t easy on him, the trauma was still there but he’s willing to power through it

“Yea…that’s the one…the island is practically dead…nothing left….I went there when I left and…it’s practically a ghost island…people now say it’s haunted because…all the people who loved there were all murdered…”

He said with a sigh, now to explain the incident. He paused and shook his head, no, Natsu deserved to know…he’s his brother, he doesn’t owe him anything but, doesn’t stop the feeling of having Natsu be in the know…it’s better this way…if he was going to trust his brother to help him…Natsu has to know what happened…

“We didn’t…see it coming….they came out of no where…some dropped from the air…some came from the shores….we didn’t know why but….one by one…they slaughtered us like cattle….those they captured…they took as slaves…experiments…My master…he gave his life for my friends and I”

He paused, closing his eyes a bit and breathed heavily, the memory was back and it was clear as day….he remembered it all…the expression he had when he witnessed it all, the feeling of the blood of his kin splattering on his face

“..we were on the run for what felt like days….until they finally caught us…and….I don’t know how many years we were in that hellhole…..felt like an eternity…time stopped the longer we were in that facility…they wanted to control the magic we were associated with…test our power…it wasn’t uncommon for them to make us fight each other after rounds of experiments to play with our magic…I thought it would be over when we rioted our way out but….yea…only I made it out alive….”

He sighed..almost relieved that he told him, but now the confusing part, this is where his mind is still fuzzy

“After that…my memory gets fuzzy…hazy…I don’t even remember what happened after that….when I met you…? I remembered nothing…all I remembered at the time was waking up in this strange cave…”

"I get that, I really do, but remember you don’t need to force yourself okay?”

Natsu wanted to make sure Kohaku was feeling alright above all else. Yes, he wanted to know what his brother went through but if it hurt him then he didn’t want him to have to force it. He understood very well that there were things that would hurt when they were spoken about. Things such as Igneel’s death. That was something Ko didn’t know either... he wasn’t sure he wanted to mention that because he had a feeling the other would ask about Metalicana too. Or Wendy’s dragon Grandeeney.

“Sounds almost like the island that Kemokemo came from. I’d explain but I’m not sure how to with that, it was a whole thing.”

He’d go back to listening to Kohaku speak, talking about his past was clearly getting the better of him but he’d stop if he felt the need to. The Fire Dragon was sure of that at least. Kohaku knew his older brother wouldn’t want him to cause himself too much pain to get the story out. Even though he wanted tp explain why he’d left in the first place.

“Masters when they love the children or those they view as family often do stuff like that. I wish it could be different but not everyone would condone such an act,”

Saving their lives by giving up ones own was something that the Fire Dragon had contemplated at one point. HIs life could easily have been ended at the hands of someone at some point but he’d not let his fire go out if it meant anyone he cared about would get hurt.

“A strange cave? I wonder which cave it was. I still go to the cave I shared with Igneel, it’s still there despite how old it is.”

A small smile would grace Natsu’s face for a moment before he thought about what Kohaku had mentioned about the magic he was given. It would make more sense if the other was older than he was when he got it but why would they opt to give such powerful magic to a child?