#so i could dream of eventually partially retiring

[witchlenore]

I'm going to have to block the ai tag in every way I can, as a creative who has always dreamed about being able to actually work selling my art I just find it all heartbreaking and I've had at least two panic attacks about the way ai is being sent after our art, our writing, our narration, our very appearances, and I just can't do it ok? I am already barely making it from day to day.

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

The Silver Dragon (19)

The Petition

When Vaemond Velaryon petitions the Crown to grant him succession of Driftmark, Arianwyn is faced with her worst fears.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC (Daemon and Rhea's daughter)

Warnings: Partial beheading

Series Masterlist - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Arianwyn was woken the following morning not by Brynna, but by her half-sister Rhaena, who had snuck into her rooms to lay a gown at the foot of her bed. Unfortunately, Arianwyn was so unsettled by her father’s threats from the night before that even the gentle sound of fabric on fabric startled her from sleep.

“I'm sorry," Rhaena said, wincing when Arianwyn burst awake and scrambled out of bed, banging her knees against the stone floor. "I didn't mean to wake you. Rhaenyra asked that I bring this dress for you to wear today, and I couldn't find Brynna."

With her heart still pounding, Arianwyn shook her head. "It's fine. I… I was having a bad dream."

"Do you like it?"

"Like what?"

"The dress."

"Oh," Arianwyn had, in truth, been so startled that she hardly processed Rhaena's words, much less see what she was holding. Then, pulling the sleeve of her nightgown back over her shoulder, she stepped to the end of the bed to examine the dress.

It was one she recognized – a red gown with open, flowing sleeves and gold wrist cuffs. Rhaenyra had favored it when her children were young, but Arianwyn thought it had been retired when the brocade had begun to fray. Indeed, when she looked closely, she could see where hasty repairs had been made. But, from a distance, it looked as beautiful as ever.

"She wants me to wear this?"

Her half-sister smiled, holding the gown up to try and see how it would look. "Isn’t it sweet of her?”

Arianwyn grimaced. As she had sent a message to the court with her gown yesterday, Rhaenyra would do the same today. To clothe her in a dress that once belonged to the princess would indeed create the image of a united family that Rhaenyra desired to present to the court.

Rhaena was still waiting for an answer, but Arianwyn could not say anything she knew her sister wanted to hear.

“Red doesn’t suit me,” she said instead. Not an agreement, but also not an insult.

“Well, I think it will look beautiful on you,” Rhaena chirped, far happier than Arianwyn had ever been so soon after waking. “May I help you dress, or shall I find Brynna?”

Begrudgingly amused by her sister’s unrelenting cheer, Arianwyn smiled and nodded. “I think Brynna would appreciate a morning to rest.”

Rhaena immediately set to work, beginning with her hair. Having been born with even thicker curls than Arianwyn, she had become quite an expert in caring for wily hair. And while she tried very hard to convince Arianwyn to let her use a new braiding technique she had learned, she eventually relented to her desire to wear her hair unbound.

Arianwyn’s warming mood waned when she donned the dress. It was far from a perfect fit. Her well-developed curves were apparently inherited from the Royce line rather than her father’s blood, for the gown strained around her chest and hips but hung loosely over her waist.

A shame. She had been hoping the dress would not close.

After giving herself a distressed look in the mirror, Arianwyn turned back to Rhaena. “See, I told you I would look horrid in red.”

“I have never seen a person look so pale,” Rhaena agreed. “It is as if you’ve been rolled in flour.”

Both girls immediately gave in to laughter, wheezing and snorting in a very unladylike manner.

It was then that Brynna finally entered the room, mouth falling agape at seeing the girls in such a state. “By the Seven, what are you doing?” she asked, failing to keep her voice stern. “And Aria, why in the world are you wearing such a wretched dress?”

Arianwyn’s laughter immediately stopped, and she glanced self-consciously down at herself. “Princess Rhaenyra requested that I wear this today.”

Brynna gave her a pitying, understanding smile. Rhaenyra’s ‘request’ was to be obeyed as an order. “I’ll see if I can find a belt somewhere, try and salvage some semblance of beauty.” With that, she gave a quick curtsy and went back through the door.

Sitting back at the vanity, Arianwyn fiddled with the gown's sleeves. The heavy cuffs on the wrists were already grating at her patience, and she would surely be cold all day and have to resist the temptation to cover herself with her arms. But the awkward dress was the least of her problems. After what Daemon said to her the night before, she did not know how he would react when Otto Hightower called her to the throne to petition for her release. Her hand trembled as she brought it up to her neck to finger a necklace that was not there.

Rhaena stepped up behind her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “What did our father say to you last night?"

Arianwyn met her sister’s violet eyes through the mirror. “Do you really want to know?”

“No,” Rhaena answered. Daemon had long been the one source of discomfort in their relationship. “But if it is the reason you are so nervous this morning, I must.”

“They scolded me for being alone with Prince Aemond,” Arianwyn admitted, “warned me of the consequences should rumor spread.”

It was a very generous summary of the conversation. Long ago, perhaps Arianwyn would have given her the unvarnished truth. Taken a cruel pleasure in seeing Rhaena’s perfect image of their father shatter to reveal the monster beneath. But the scratches she had once inflicted upon her had long since faded.

Neither of them were the same girls they had been in that tunnel. Those girls would hate each other forever. But now, Arianwyn and Rhaena were sisters.

And that meant that Rhaena could tell when her sister was lying.

“Was he very cruel to you?” she asked, though, from the look of dread on her face, it was clear she already knew the answer, or at least suspected it.

Arianwyn nodded, blinking tears from her eyes. “Even more than usual.”

Rhaena surged forward, clutching her sister in a tight embrace. “I am so sorry, Aria. I wish there were something I could do.”

“There is nothing I would ask of you,” Arianwyn assured. “Just know how much I have valued your kindness – your sisterhood. And that I love you. I truly do.”

“I love you too, Aria.”

Rhaenyra was the last to arrive in the Throne Room, likely a strategic move on her part. Aemond only saw it as arrogant and disrespectful, though not nearly as much as placing Aria in the back of the procession. From her letters, he knew that it was just another of Daemon’s small cruelties. She had even told him that when little Aegon and Viserys were present, she was made to walk behind the nursemaids carrying them. Still, it stoked enough anger in him that he had to cross his arms behind his back to conceal his clenched fists.

Once Aemond saw Aria, it was hard to look away from her enchanting beauty. It took him a moment to recognize the dress she wore from his youth, when Rhaenyra would visit the nursery. Why was Aria wearing it now? He knew she didn’t like to wear red – or rather, Brynna did not like it – and she must be freezing with her shoulders and arms bared.

Several other men were watching her as she followed Rhaenyra and Daemon to the front of the room. Logically, Aemond knew it was perfectly normal for men to enjoy the sight of a beautiful young woman, especially one dressed so ostentatiously. Still, it felt like they were lusting after something that was his.

But she was not his to protect, as he was reminded when Daemon met his eye. His uncle dared to flash a smug grin, setting Aemond’s blood aflame. Clutching his fists tighter, he suppressed the urge to go to her, to shield her from both her father and the leering eyes of the gathered men.

He turned back to Aria, hoping to catch her eye, to no avail. Her gaze was trained on the ground, eyes flitting back and forth as they always did when she was nervous. One of Daemon’s other daughters stood next to her. Was it the one that had wounded her face? No, that was the elder, who now stood with Princess Rhaenys. This was the younger, Rhaena, who had endeared herself to Aria in the past years.

Indeed, Rhaena was holding Aria’s hand. How he wished he could do so. That he was the one to stand by her side and comfort her, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb, leaning in to whisper something in her ear.

When Aria smiled shakily at whatever her sister had said, his fantasy shattered, the lust clearing from his vision in an instant. Gods, she was afraid.

Her free hand trembled, even as she bunched it in her skirts. Her bare shoulders were taut with tension as they rose and fell with each quick breath she took. The ease and grace she showed when they were together yesterday were gone, replaced by barely concealed fear.

What had Daemon done to her?

Whatever it was, Aemond would make him regret it.

But before he could move to her or speak, his grandsire called the court to order.

“Though it is the great hope of this court that Lord Corlys Velaryon survives his wounds,” Otto boomed from atop the dais, “we gather here with the grim task of dealing with the succession of Driftmark. As Hand, I speak with the King’s voice on this and all other matters.”

Daemon scoffed as Otto Hightower sat upon the Iron Throne.

Arianwyn raised her eyes from the floor to watch the proceedings, shaking as she tried to steady her breath. She had nothing to fear, she reminded herself. In less than an hour, she would be free to cross the throne room to stand with her true family – with Aemond.

“The crown will hear the petitions,” the Hand continued. “Ser Vaemond of House Velaryon.”

Vaemond stepped to the center of the room. “My Queen,” he said, bowing his head toward Alicent before facing the throne. “My Lord Hand.”

“The history of our noble houses extends beyond the Seven Kingdoms to the days of Old Valyria,” he began. “For as long as House Targaryen has ruled the skies, House Velaryon has ruled the seas. When the Doom fell on Old Valyria, our houses became the last of their kind. Our forebearers came to this new land, knowing that were they to fail, it would mean the end to their bloodlines and their name.”

In the corner of her eye, Arianwyn saw Daemon and Rhaenyra exchange a look. She shuddered to think what it might mean.

Vaemond dropped his arms, standing tall and proud even as Daemon scowled at him. “I have spent my entire life on Driftmark defending my brother’s seat. I am Lord Corlys’ closest kin – his own blood. The true, unimpeachable blood of House Velaryon runs through my veins.”

“As it does in my sons,” Rhaenyra interjected, “the offspring of Laenor Velaryon. If you cared so much about your house’s blood, Ser Vaemond, you would not be so bold as to supplant its rightful heir. No, you only speak for yourself and your own ambition.”

Arianwyn clenched her jaw as she glared at the back of Rhaenyra’s head. She was fast approaching her limit on her stepmother’s hypocrisy. Had she not lied to the court about the true parentage of her sons for years to protect her ambitions? Only last night, had she not stood idly by as her husband revealed his intention to whore out his own daughter to further their shared ambitions for the throne?

Perhaps sharing Daemon’s words would sway the court in both Vaemond's and Arianwyn’s favor.

But before Arianwyn could even loosen her jaw, the Queen spoke. “You will have a chance to make your own petition, Princess Rhaenyra,” Alicent scolded. “Do Ser Vaemond the courtesy of allowing his to be heard.”

As Vaemond turned to face the Princess, Aemond, at last, caught Arianwyn’s gaze. But rather than smile, as she expected, he frowned, widening his eye as if to ask if she was well.

She smiled softly, nodding her head. Though nervous, she was well. Aemond’s shoulders drooped slightly with relief, and the corners of his lips turned upward. Something about that smallest of smiles made Arianwyn’s stomach turn loops.

“What do you know of Velaryon blood, Princess?” Vaemond asked Rhaenyra, who refused to even look at him. “I could cut my veins and show it to you, and you still wouldn’t recognize it. This is about the future and survival of my house, not yours.”

With an angry glance at Luke, Vaemond again turned to the throne. “My Queen, my Lord Hand. This is a matter of blood, not ambition,” he declared. “I place the continuation of the survival of my house and my line above all. I humbly put myself before you as my brother’s successor. The Lord of Driftmark, and the Lord of the Tides.”

“Thank you, Ser Vaemond,” Otto said from his seat atop the Iron Throne, dismissing the knight. “Princess Rhaenyra, you may now speak for your son, Lucerys Velaryon.”

Rhaenyra rolled her eyes, striding lazily toward the center of the room as if she had been asked by her nursemaid to clean up after herself rather than formally address the Hand of the King as he sat the Iron Throne.

“If I am to grace this farce with some answer,” she said, her boredom and disdain clear in her voice, “I will start by reminding the court that nearly 20 years ago, in this very – ”

Her words were cut off when the throne room doors burst open, and the King, with a gold mask covering half his face and leaning nearly all his weight on a cane, began to hobble into the room.

“King Viserys of House Targaryen, the First of His Name, King of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.”

No, Aemond wanted to shout as he watched his father enter the Throne Room. He wanted to storm up to him, seize the cane, and watch him fall and delight in it. The old fool had not left his rooms in weeks, yet now he emerges, walking under his own power?

Any hope of Driftmark now passing to a rightful Velaryon heir was gone, as was Aria’s chance to escape Daemon.

Aemond had needed nothing from the king. Had asked him for nothing. But it did not matter. Rhaenyra had obviously done so.

Viserys would summon a miracle for his eldest daughter and her bastards.

Yet for his other children, he couldn’t even do nothing.

Arianwyn could not tear her eyes from her once-beloved uncle as he made his way, ever slowly, toward the Iron Throne. His back was so deeply hunched that he now stood no taller than herself. What little hair he still had hung in long, limp tendrils around his sunken, blemished face. He gasped for breath as he walked, revealing his many missing or rotted teeth.

This was not the king Arianwyn remembered. Seeing him in this state, she understood the exhaustion and worry on the queen’s face.

The king was dying. Had been for a long time, it seemed.

He stopped at the base of the dais, facing Otto Hightower, who had come down from the throne to meet him. “I will sit the throne today,” he rasped.

“Your Grace,” Otto said, nodding as he stepped away from the throne. It seemed the Hand was as surprised as anyone by the appearance of the poorly king and nearly as reverent.

When Viserys stumbled on the first step of the dais, Ser Erryk Cargyll leaped forward to catch him. But the king waved him away.

Arianwyn turned away from the heartbreaking sight. She had held on to her anger at the king for so long – for his treatment of Aemond on Driftmark and for allowing Daemon to take her. But she had never wanted to see him suffer – certainly not like this. She had loved him dearly, once.

She looked to Aemond, hoping to find answers or reassurance in his gaze, but he did not look at her. His eye was focused on his father. Though his expression remained unreadable, Arianwyn could see the rage simmering within his eye – the hatred.

The clattering of metal drew their attention back to the throne. The king’s crown, the same his grandsire wore when he was king, had slipped from his brow onto the stone steps.

Arianwyn tensed as Daemon stepped forward. With Dark Sister at his side, he could easily kill the king here and now and place his wife on the Iron Throne. But he did not, and the steel remained sheathed.

Daemon knelt by his brother’s side and picked up the crown. He wrapped his arm carefully around Viserys and guided him up the steps to the throne. And with a tenderness Arianwyn had never seen, her father crowned the king and retreated from the throne.

Seeing that her father was capable of love, that he had the capacity to be gentle and kind to those he truly cared for wounded her long-damaged heart. To know that when he could be so caring, he still chose to hate her so fiercely.

When Daemon again took his place beside Rhaenyra, Arianwyn felt a familiar cold settle in her veins. But, this time, she was sure it was there to stay.

“I must… admit… my confusion,” the king rasped. “I do not understand why petitions are being heard over a settled succession. The only one present who might offer keener insight into Lord Corlys’ wishes is the Princess Rhaenys.”

“Indeed, your grace,” Rhaenys answered as all eyes turned to her. She gazed with a guarded expression at Vaemond before stepping to the throne.

“It was ever my husband’s will that Driftmark pass through Ser Laenor to his trueborn son… Lucerys Velaryon.” the Princess’ voice held hesitation, though few noticed it. “His mind never changed. Nor did my support of him. As a matter of fact, the Princess Rhaenyra has just informed me of her desire to marry her sons Jace and Luke to Lord Corlys’ granddaughters, Baela and Rhaena. A proposal to which I heartily agree.”

Arianwyn turned to Rhaena. “Did you know about this?” she asked.

Rhaena shook her head, genuine shock in her eyes. Though she did not seem displeased by the prospect.

The king smiled. “Well… the matter is settled,” he declared. “Again. I hereby reaffirm Prince Lucerys of House Velaryon as heir to Driftmark, the Driftwood Throne, and the next Lord of the Tides.”

Silence fell over the hall. Arianwyn’s own heart sank as she realized what the decision meant. The king was still as stubborn as ever. He still favored his firstborn daughter and the cost of the plain truth. Even if Arianwyn pleaded with him as she had planned and shouted the truth of Daemon’s crimes for all to hear, she was sure he would deny her and send her back to Dragonstone with her father.

Where Daemon would be free to punish her for insulting him in front of the court.

But Arianwyn was not the only one crushed by the King’s choice.

“You break law and centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir,” Vaemond Velaryon spat, stalking towards the throne as a lion to its prey. “Yet you dare tell me who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon. No. I will not allow it.”

“‘Allow it?’” Viserys hissed. “Do not forget yourself, Vaemond.”

No one in the room dared move, or even so much as breathe as they stood in wary anticipation at what the would-be heir would do next.

 “That,” Vaemond shouted as he turned on Lucerys, pointing an accusing finger at the nervous young boy. “Is no true Velaryon. And certainly no nephew of mine.”

Rhaenyra stepped in front of Luke, “Go to your chambers. You have said enough.”

“Lucerys is my true-born grandson,” Viserys said with a strength greater than his withered body would suggest. “And you are no more than the second son of Driftmark.”

Pity burst within Arianwyn’s heart. Vaemond was right. They could all see it. Rhaenyra was stealing his birthright in broad daylight, and no one would defend him.

“You,” Vaemond barked at the King, “may run your house as you see fit, but you will not decide the future of mine! My house survived the Doom, and a thousand tribulations besides! And gods be damned, I will not see it ended on the account of this…” He bit back his words as he turned to Rhaenyra, righteous anger twisting his face.

“Say it,” Daemon whispered. A challenge and a threat.

It pushed Vaemond over the final ledge.

“Her children are bastards!” he screamed, “And she is a whore.”

A furious whisper echoed around the room. No one had dared voice such an accusation for years, let alone so brazenly in front of the King. Aemond smiled – an involuntary gesture. Surely Vaemond was not so foolish as to think Viserys would ever admit the truth. He had learned that for himself the night he lost his eye. The left side of his face seemed to pulse with pain as a reminder.

Indeed, the king raised himself from the throne and brandished his Valyrian Steel dagger in a shaking hand. “I will have your tongue for that.”

Aemond’s smile fell when he heard Aria scream.

Her shriek pierced the ears of everyone in the room, drawing their eyes not to her but to Daemon. And the near-headless body of Vaemond Velaryon falling at his feet.

“He can keep his tongue,” Daemon quipped.

Aemond did not see his sister clap her hands over her ears and turn away. He did not hear Otto shout for Daemon’s disarmament. He did not see his father collapse on the throne. He did not even see the growing pool of blood on the throne room floor.

All he saw was Daemon wiping the blood from his blade as he turned back to his family, eyes locking with Aria’s. He saw her face blanch and her lips tremble as she fought her tears and the bile rising in her throat. He saw the hope fade from her silvery eyes as she turned and ran from the room.

Not caring who saw, Aemond pushed past his brother and followed.

Aemond caught up to Aria as she fell to her knees in an empty courtyard far from the throne room. He could hear the clanging of the metal cuffs on her wrist as they scraped through the gravel, and his heart wrenched as she listened to her agonizing sobs.

“Aria,” he whispered as he knelt beside her, gently laying a hand on her bare shoulders. “Aria, I’m here.”

When she turned to face him, her face softened with relief. But when he laid a hand on her cheek to wipe away a tear, another cry tore through her. He took her in his arms as she fell into him, and before he could stop himself, he bowed his head forward and laid his lips on her soft cheek, kissing away another tear.

But she did not recoil from him. Rather, she seemed to melt into his touch. Grasping the side of her face in one hand, Aemond ran his nose along her face, unwilling to break the connection, and pressed another kiss to her forehead.

Aria leaned into his chest, wrapping her arms around his neck like he was the only thing keeping her anchored to the ground as her tears came harder and faster. He did not know what to say, how to calm her from her frantic state. So, he simply pulled her closer, cradling the back of her head and whispering sweet words into her ear.

After a long while, her breathing finally slowed. She tightened her arms around him and whimpered against his neck, “He killed Vaemond.”

“I know,” Aemond said, gently rocking her in his arms.

“In front of everyone. He killed him. And no one did anything.”

“I know.”

“What will they do when he kills me?”

Aemond froze, utterly paralyzed as he heard his worst fear spoken aloud. The world seemed to disappear, leaving only him, Aria, and her horrible words.

He felt his jaw twitching as he struggled to appear calm, for Arianwyn’s sake. “He will not kill you,” was all he could bite out.

“He will,” Arian declared. “He said so himself.”

Aemond pushed her back so he could see her face. Her cheeks were flushed, and the rims of her eyes deeply red. Tears still fell from those beautiful eyes, and her lip trembled as she stared back at him.

“He told me that all I was worth was my ‘virgin cunt,’” though her voice was shaky and weak, she did not stop when Aemond hissed at her words, “and that if I did anything to jeopardize him selling me off, he would have no reason to keep me alive.”

She didn’t give him even a heartbeat to reply before she grabbed the collar of his coat and whispered, “He killed my mother.”

“What?”

“He hated her. He wanted her gone. So, he killed her.” She was rambling madly, the story spilling forth without control like fire from a dragon’s maw. “He paralyzed her, broke her back and so many bones. And he raped her. It was his final insult. He raped her, and then she bore me.”

Aemond brought his hands up to cup her jaw. Her gentle voice and the feeling of her blood flowing beneath his palms were the only things keeping him from racing back to the throne room and gutting anyone who stood between him and Daemon.

“Gerold and her Maester offered her moon tea,” she halted when Aemond’s hands tightened on her cheeks. How could she even say such a thing? That a single decision made the difference between him having Aria here, with him, and her having never existed made his stomach hollow. What would his life have been without her?

“She refused,” she explained, and he relaxed slightly. “She knew she would not survive the birth, but she did not want him to forget her. So, she had me as her revenge. That is why he hates me. I am a living reminder that he could not break her.”

Aemond growled, leaning forward to press his forehead into Arianwyn’s. “You are not a revenge nor a reminder,” he rumbled. “You are a person. A beautiful, wonderful, kind, and unbearably good person.”

He stood, raising her with him and wrapping his hands around her waist to hold her steady. “You are so much more than…” he could not bring himself to repeat Daemon’s cruel and crude words, “than whatever your father says you are. You are the Lady of Runestone and a daughter of House Targaryen. If anyone dares harm you,” he hissed, all his hatred and rage alight in his eye, “I will burn them to ash. I would reduce the whole world to embers to protect you, Aria.”

Aemond’s declaration shocked her into silence, though she was unsure why. He had made many such threats when they were children, once even promising to feed her future husband’s head to Emrys if he dared hurt her. But somehow, this threat felt different.

It felt real.

Because it could be, she realized. He was no longer a dragonless little boy playing at ferosity, but the warrior prince who rode the largest dragon left in the world who had helped Aegon and his sisters conquer the continent. If he wanted, he could follow in their footsteps and conquer whatever lands he wished.

Perhaps it should make her afraid, that he was capable of such violence. But it only made her feel safe that he would do so on her behalf, and proud that he was now the man he always wanted to be. She stepped forward, resting her head on his chest, saying with her touch what she could not say with her words. Thank you.

Neither she nor Aemond noticed Princess Rhaenys stalking toward them. Not until she grabbed them by the shoulders and tore them apart.

“By all the gods,” she scolded. “Can the two of you not even try to act as though you are guided by your minds and not your…” she examined Arianwyn with an appraising gaze.  “Your hearts,” she finished.

Aemond released one hand from Arianwyn’s waist as he stepped protectively in front of her, his free hand drifting over the dagger he had strapped to his belt. His mouth was a hard, straight line, and the fire in his eye could have boiled the Narrow Sea to vapor.

“Oh please,” Rhaenys scoffed. “If you really think she has anything to fear from me, you’re even stupider than your drunken fool of a brother. Aegon, obviously. I hear Daeron is quite well-behaved.”

When the attempt to defuse the tension with her wry humor did not sway Aemond for a moment, Arianwyn pressed against Aemond’s shoulder, pulling his hand back from the pommel of his dagger. After only a moment of hesitation, he relaxed from his defensive posture, leaning back into her touch.

 “What is it you want, princess?” While his voice was soft, Arianwyn could still hear the threat buried beneath his words.

“I would like to speak with Arianwyn,” she answered. “Privately, if you would permit it, my prince.”

Aemond glanced down at Arianwyn and every so slightly raised his brow. A question. Depending on her answer, he would either stand aside or whisk her to safety. She squeezed his arm, giving him a slight nod and a weak but reassuring smile. A moment passed, and she nodded again, a harder set to her grey eyes. Then, hesitantly, Aemond released her from his hold and, after a moment spent looking at her with an intensity that made her heart race, stepped away.

Arianwyn did not say anything or even move until Aemond was out of sight. When she finally turned to Rhaenys, she felt her eyes start to water once more, though she did not know why. “What is it you wanted to speak to me about, Princess?”

Rhaenys held her arm out for Arianwyn to take, “Come, let me walk you to your rooms.”

The women walked in silence through the long halls of the castle. Whenever they passed courtiers who tried to stop and engage them in conversation, Rhaenys masterfully brushed them aside without insult, allowing them to make it through the doors of Arianwyn’s rooms without ever breaking their stride.

With the door shut and locked behind them, Rhaenys deposited Arianwyn on the edge of the bed. Still silent, she began tracing the walls of the room with her hands, brushing curtains and tapestries aside in her search. When Arianwyn was finally about to give in to her curiosity and ask what her cousin was doing, a muffled “thud” echoed throughout the room.

Turning to her with a victorious smirk, Rhaenys pushed gently on the stone next to the vanity. Much to Arianwyn’s surprise, a large section of the wall seemingly detached, swinging open a hidden door into a dark tunnel.

“What is that?” she asked, unsure whether to be impressed or afraid.

Rhaenys gestured for her to stand and examine it for herself. Arianwyn obeyed, drawing her arms around her when a cool wind from inside the tunnel swept into the room.

“Maegor had these tunnels built throughout the Keep,” Rhaenys explained. “I’m not sure whether it was genius or paranoia, but they have proven very useful to me in the past.”

Arianwyn looked at her cousin with a questioning gaze. Rhaenys chuckled, “I don’t know where most of them lead. The only path I have committed to memory is from my old quarters to the kitchens. I was not sure there would be an entrance here, but I am glad there is.”

“Why are you showing this to me?” Arianwyn asked, though she was fairly certain she knew the answer. Though Rhaenys had sided with Rhaenyra and Daemon at the petition, she had done so reluctantly. And after Vaemond was killed…

Her ever-collected expression fading into worry, Rhanys cupped Arianwyn’s cheeks in her hands. “Rhaena told me that something happened last night. Something that made you terrified of Daemon.” Her eyes hardened, and her lips tightened. “I know what he is capable of, more than most. I will not let what happened to my children happen to you.”

“What are you saying?” Arianwyn asked, wrapping her hands around Rhaenys’ elbows.

“I have never believed, not for one moment, that Ser Qarl killed Laenor on a whim.” Speaking of her son, her confident air began to waver. “Laenor was a good man – loved by his men. None of them would have turned on him like that without someone else pulling the strings.”

“My father.”

Rhaenys nodded. “Daemon lusted after Rhaenyra for years. Laena was his second choice, and he treated her as such. Once she was dead, only my son stood in the way of what he had long desired.”

Arianwyn’s heart sank, realizing the deep pain she had always felt was not hers alone, but one shared. “Ser Laenor was not the first to die.”

“I always suspected Rhea had not been injured by accident,” Rhaenys said as she pulled her hands from Arianwyn’s face. “I am so sorry you have had to live with that burden.”

“It is not my burden to bear,” Arianwyn replied. “I had as little choice in the matter as my mother. I was seeded by his cruelty. Now, it seems I may die by it as well.”

As she said the words, Arianwyn was surprised to find they no longer sparked tears or a sense of dread. Rather, they nearly brought a sense of peace. After all, it was a good story, if tragic. It was one she could imagine among the gilded pages of a storybook. She always wanted to live a fairy tale, though she had hoped hers would have a happy ending.

Rhaenys grabbed her again, harder this time, her fingers digging into Arianwyn’s skin. “No!” she hissed. “Do not resign yourself to that fate! There are too many people who care for you too much to see you gone so soon.”

Her eyes darkened as she continued, “Our family is heading for dark days, Arianwyn. We will not lose one of the few lights we have left.”

“So what do I do?” Arianwyn begged. The king would surely not grant her release from Daemon. He could hardly walk on his own, let alone stand against his brother. After what he had done in the throne room, she was sure that if Alicent or Otto tried to grant her release, she would face a fate similar to Vaemond Velaryon's.

Rhaenys turned the girl to face the tunnel. “Escape! Follow these tunnels until you find yourself in the city. Keep your hair covered and find a market. Sell your jewels, your clothes even. Make yourself unrecognizable. As soon as you can, leave King’s Landing. Go to Runestone. I will write to Ser Gerold to expect you, and we will find a way to keep you hidden until you are of age. But you must go. Now.”

Arianwyn’s mind raced. She could not deny the appeal of Rhaenys’ plan, of disappearing until she could actually wield the power she needed to fight her father. But even as her legs itched to race through the tunnel, her heart pulled her back into her rooms.

“I can’t,” she whispered, all too aware of the disappointment on her cousin’s face. “I cannot leave Aemond again.”

Rhaenys scowled, “Would you rather him weep over your corpse?”

“No!” Arianwyn shot back. Just the image caused her heart to ache without ceasing. “But if I disappear without him knowing, I cannot predict what he may do. I will not see him hurt, or worse.”

“Fine,” Rhaenys said, biting her lip. “Say your goodbyes. Say whatever you need to.” But promise me that you will run at the first sight of danger.”

Arianwyn steeled herself, trying to show confidence she did not feel. If she did run, would she even be able to find her way out of the castle? Would she survive just one night alone in the streets of King’s Landing? Would she make it to the Vale without being caught, or worse?

Would she be able to bring herself to leave Aemond?

“I promise.”

[kydrogendragon]

Happy birthday!

I love Lucienne and Gault being sweet to each other, Gault and Jed having adventures together in the Dreaming, and Rose and Barbie if you want (I set them up as a pair in my fic, Life is But a Dream, but then didn’t go any farther with them).

Happy writing!

Sixth prompt of the day!

I initially tried to write a ficlet with all of the above, but couldn't figure out what I wanted to go with it. If you're curious, the general premise I had was Rose teasing Lucienne about when she planned to propose to Gault while they were all in the Dreaming. Gault was off flying around Fiddler's Green with Jed while Lucienne, Rose, and Barbie lounged on a picnic blanket on a hill.

But! Instead, I wrote a thing focusing on Gault and Lucienne since the words for that flowed more. I'd like to finish the other idea I had eventually since I do think it'd be cute, but hopefully this also works!

Thanks a ton for the prompt!!! This was a lot of fun to write. It's vaguely in the same universe as A Waking Nightmare, but just in the sense of "this is how these two got together".

Relationship: Gault/Lucienne Words: 1587 Warnings: None Ao3 Link

“When was the last time you left this place?” Gault asks, trailing behind Lucienne while the former raven snags the misplaced books from shelves and tables. The library of the Dreaming was expansive and ever shifting, though Lucienne never seemed to have issue navigating it. Even Gault, as a Major Arcana, a spot that put her as close to their Lord as a Dream or Nightmare could be, struggled with finding exactly what she wanted in this place.

Lucienne had explained it to her once. She claimed that her role as the Librarian of the Dreaming allowed her control over it to some degree. As Dream was the Dreaming, Lucienne was, partially, the Library as well. When she retired from her position as a Raven and took up the new role as Librarian, their Lord had bestowed upon her a small fraction of his powers so that she could wield this space to it’s fullest potential. And wield it, she did.

“Frequently,” Lucienne replies, pulling one of the misplaced books from her cart and slotting it between it’s brothers on the shelf in front of her. “I do often bring reports to Lord Morpheus, after all. I am not confined to this space, you know.” She hears Gault’s sigh behind her before she sees the flash of color to her side. Gault follows her, walking backwards beside the cart. Lucienne shoots her a look, raised brow and all, wile she continues her duties.

“You know,” Gault says, picking up one of the abandoned books and turning it in her hands. “Doing tasks for our Lord wasn’t what I meant. When what the last time you left this place on your own accord?”

The answer, Lucienne knows, is a very long time. So long, in fact, she’s unsure when exactly that was. Not nearly as far back as her position as raven, but not much sooner than it, either, she suspects. She blinks, refusing to look upon Gault’s knowing expression, and instead focuses on her work. She slots a book into position, her finger trailing along the spine as she pushes the hardback into place.

She just catches the roll of Gault’s eyes as she wheels the cart forward. They descend, expectedly for Lucienne, unexpectedly for Gault, who stumbles over her feet at the sudden shift in elevation. She falls over, her back colliding with the now stable flooring of the Library. Lucienne smirks as she wheels past the prone Nightmare.

“Did you do that on purpose?” Gault called from her spot on the floor. Lucienne looks over her shoulder, a face of perfect innocence.

“Me? Never. The floor was always that way.” She turns back as Gault huffs and pushes herself up off the hardwood floors. They’ve made their way into one of the offshoots of the main library. Here, the hallway is narrower and the ceiling reaches just a head taller than their Lord’s usual form size. Torches line the walls, illuminating the corridor in golden, flickering light. If Lucienne was being truthful, it was these smaller sectors of the Library that she enjoyed the most. They were rarely visited by anyone, dream and nightmares or dreamers alike. This particular hallway was devoted to the finished collections of Swedish Shower Thoughts circa 1940 to 2040.

“If I asked you to join me for a scroll through the gardens, would you say yes?” Gault’s voice echoed against the stone ceilings. The grip on the book in Lucienne’s hand tightened. She looks down, eyes trailing over the leather bound edges. A stroll through the garden, inherently, wasn’t a bad idea. The weather was fair as their Lord was in a decent mood as of late and she knew that Mervyn had recently completed the renovations to the pergola beside the pond which would make for a most excellent sitting spot. No, the garden wasn’t the thing that made Lucienne pause.

Gault was. Or rather, what Gault wanted was the cause for her hesitation. It was clear, after the numerous visits she had made to the Library in recent months, that there was something more than simple friendship under the surface. Lucienne wasn’t blind to the clear flirting or prolonged looks. And she would be lying if she said there weren’t times her own eyes lingered a touch too long. Mutual attraction wasn’t the problem. The problem was that it existed in the first place.

Lucienne was the Librarian of the Dreaming. She was a former raven to Dream of the Endless and, most critically, was kept nearly as busy as her lordship was. And Gault… Gault was a jovial spirit who completed her work with artistry and efficiency. She helped care and raise the young dreams and nightmares and saw such beauty and potential in both this realm and the Waking. Gault was worthy of her title as Major Arcana. She was the best of them. And what Gault needed was not someone who has been compared to Lord Morpheus in more ways than one.

No, she should deny her request for the stoll in the garden. She should deny any such requests in the future until Gault takes the hint and finds someone more compatible, more deserving of her. She sighs, slotting the book in place, before turning to meet Gault’s gaze.

“Okay.”

The gardens, as expected, were wonderful out. The flowers were just starting to bloom and the air was clean and crisp. Lucienne couldn’t help but notice the tension in her shoulders began to dissipate as they walked through the rows of flowering hedges.

They chatted while they walked, mostly of work, though Gault did tell stories of the most recent nightmares she’d partaken in. Apparently, there had been some debate on who was responsible for a string of serial nightmares: herself or the Corinthian. Lucienne did not envy Gault for having to deal with that mess. The Corinthian, while an effective Nightmare and particularly favored by their Lord (though Lucienne knows well he would deny such claims), was not fun to work with on a professional level.

Gault stopped just beside a section of flower, a variety of Daisy that exists solely in the Dreaming, and plucks one from it’s stem. Lucienne watches as she raises the golden flower to her nose and sniffs. She hums, clearly pleased by the scent, before turning to face Lucienne. She stares for a moment, her eyes flicking between the side of her head and back to her gaze.

Then, it clicks, when Gault leans forward and slots the flower between her ear. Lucienne can’t help the shiver that runs down her spine as Gault’s touch. She is warm. Her fingers are warm as they caress the side of her face once the flower is secured.

“There,” she says, letting her arm fall back to her side. “Something pretty for someone pretty.” Lucienne smiles, shaking her head as he looks away. She can feel heat in her cheeks.

“Is that the best line you have? You are trying to woo a librarian, after all.” She replies, gazing down at the junction of stone and grass beside their feet.

“Guess I’ll just have to study some more. Is there a book on good pick-up lines somewhere in that expansive library of yours?”

Lucienne looks up, her eyes meeting the soft gaze on Gault’s face. She feels her heart skip in her chest followed immediately by a heaviness, a lead weight of guilt inside her. She doesn’t realize she’s speaking until it’s too late.

“You should not want me,” she nearly yells. “I will not have the time to devote to you as I would like. As you would deserve. I will put our Lord and the Dreaming above us, above you and above me. I cannot be the spontaneous partner or even, truly, a most affectionate one. I have only know my work, my books, and my Lord for so many centuries that I do not know how to know another. You deserve more than me, Gault.”

She is silent, staring down at Lucienne with such sadness in her eyes that she is certain she has some to the same conclusion as herself. That a relationship between them would be pointless. Instead, she slowly raises her hands and cups Lucienne’s cheeks.

“Good think I’m more than fine with just following you around while you work,” Gault says, leaning forward to press a feather light kiss to Lucienne’s forehead. It is the most touch she has experienced in so long. She only realizes she has whimpered when Gault chuckles against her skin. “We have all the time in the world. I can learn to wait while you figure it all out. As a friend or as more. I just want you, Lucienne.”

She lets out a shuddering breath which quickly turns into a shaky, teary laugh. Gault wraps her arms around her form and pulls her close to her iridescent chest. They are a perfect height, Lucienne thinks, as she feels Gault’s chin rest on the top of her head. She winds her own arms around Gault’s waist, letting herself enjoy the moment. There’s a steady thrum from under her skin. Not a heart, not truly, for most of the dreamthings here do not have hearts, but rather the core of them. It pulses with power, hers even stronger than most for her status as an Arcana.

“Okay,” she finally says, her voice muffled against Gault’s body. “Just… be patient with me?”

“For you, my dear librarian? Of course.”

[heirbane]

the bingo meme got me thinking, so. here's a general gist of things Gaius Enjoys.

Physically, he's not much into those who aren't able to defend themselves. During his young adulthood in the military, that oft meant those with physical prowess that came close to his own, as Garlemald didn't really use mages in their city-state. It wasn't until he rose to become a Legatus and worked alongside further walks of life that he grew to realize strength and tenacity didn't always equate being able to run malms with military backpacks weighing them down.

This realization, his time abroad, and Garlemald's Ideals come together quite nicely. Due to the nature of Garlemald's rough beginnings, it's unsurprising that the Ideal Body to them is one that is well fed and robust, looking akin to statues and busts common under Solus' reign as Emperor. Even with the industrial revolution and Varis no longer encouraging the arts, the ideal still lingers.

Gaius grew up in Solus' Garlemald. He enjoys a well-defined muscular physique, but he is also quite partial to wide hips and thighs he can dig his fingers into. Both are good in their own respects, and he isn't truly able to pick one over the other.

(He is an ass man. Breasts are fun, but considering most of his one-off romps include him bending his partner over, he's... definitely got a preference in that regard.)

Having become one and the same as his Legatus title for too many years of his life, Gaius did find himself becoming used to - and partial - to standing head and shoulders above his partners. It is not a requirement, but simply something he is unused to not having.

He likes it when his partners know what they like and what they want, especially in short-term relationships or one night stands. He's not there to dally: they're there to release some tension and stress, and having to puzzle out what they want is not his forte. (This definitely is something he grows out of to some degree, as he becomes less impatient and willing to dance with his partners a little.)

Mentally, I think he'd want much the same: someone who is able to keep up to some degree. He doesn't need another military commander or a battlefield strategist. He ideally just wants someone able to get a good read on him without having to explain himself overmuch.

He likes being able to have discussions and debates with his partner/s, and - Praetorium extended edition aside - he also just... enjoys being able to spend time with them, too. Sometimes he wants to just sit and cherish the quiet.

A lot of this, of course, was before his downfall. He once thought that he would eventually be able to retire from the military, maybe become an advisor or a mentor for someone else, and find someone who would stay at his side. He knew marriage was proper, at least in the city, and providing a son to the Empire would be the last piece of his ideal life.

Now, however, without any title or respect - self or otherwise - to allow him to be choosy, Gaius simply... hasn't been looking. He believes himself to be too far gone for any of the happy endings he might have once dreamed of as a young adult: that he could live well in the capitol, have a conventional life after his military career, and perish with all the respects and accolades he had earned.

None of that matters now. The Empire no longer claims him; he is graying and his body is scarred and mangled from his tenure and final battle. He no longer sees himself wedding, surrounded by children adopted and sired, living a happy life with those he loved.

To think anyone would want to be at his side now is laughable, and so he simply doesn't.

[noro-noro-noro]

first a dream I was opening an old laptop to ther was some mmo I couldn't figure out how to close so it'd been open for like 20 days. my friend siggested mayyhe I had to finish my current intro quest, so I tried it. I was attacked by a couple of gaunts & killed them with my sword, but the durability got low, and there was one girl left. I had to kill her by splitting her skull with a hammer. then there was a necromancer who reanimated her anyway and also created a tiny bug out of flesh and bone that had the key on it. I needed the key so I had to chase the bug rather than catch up the necromancer and the undead girl, but I got it eventually.

I took the key back to the guild since the necromancer was long gone, and the guild was in this weird grocery store where everything was dark purple and kind of felt like an arcade. I also needed to get "cocke flavore pepesi" from the store. they also had cocke flavor pepesi strawbery. it came in milk cartons. the shelves were extremely tall to the ceiling but close together so I could climb up easily. on the other side of the shelf from cocke flavore pepesi there were syrups (I think intended for drinks) with a frankly insane range of flavors. normal studf like mint, lavender, strawberry, & then "spring growth" & "thicket" & "living honey". we (me & para, for some reason) could try samples from samples containers by eyedropping some into a little tube. spring growth had the texture of bad matcha and really tasted like chlorophyll. the lavender one was pretty good.

scene shift and now the store looked a bit more normal and it was a safe haven from zombie apocalypse. we had to obey the old people that rules over us, but I didn't like that. me & my 2 friends, estellee & dubu from omega strikers, wanted to snoop rather than return to ? for the evening, so we ran through a partially concealed door on the left half of the store & there wasmore store, not purple and lit normally. no windows. there was a tall guy who was I think kind of slow there & I asked if I could hide (referenced from a previous dream with this same scenario) & I had to hide in the toilet stalls across from somw door. unfortunately in this dream as I was trying to sneak through that door or spy on all the older people who were having their secret meetinf behind there, the dream lowered the height of the doorframe so it really wasnt hidkng anything at all & rhey saw me. I was swaying back and forth & pretended to be under some sort of spell & waslooe "I was told to kill you....he told me to kill you ..." & then made a break for it. unfortunately every adult in the area was now standing in my path saying something like "you shouldn't be back here. please return to youe authorized zone". the area became more like a maze in a decent hotel. I finally saw my friends standing outside the door and screamed at the. for help bc everyone was grabbing me & the others were still chasing me. anyway the possessed ? adults tried so hard to stop me that by the time my friebds got me out my legs had been shattered. this really hurt. I was crying so hard I couldn't talk straight. they got me a wheelchair & I thought about leaving and just going down the road through the desert and never coming back here.

then some more things changed & I was nominated for some kind of fancy dinner with the executives bc I was the people's favorite. my act of defiance...!!!! anyway so I got to wear a fancy red dress and be a bit snippy and passive aggressive while we ate. my actions had changed the mind of the janitor on the left side as well as one of the execs that I only remember as looking like fat Pikachu. I invited the execs to throw tomatoes at me bc I felt like I'd gone too far with a few things I'd said, & then graciously retired out of the room to set the rest of my plab in motion.

I do not remember this plan. I had two wives each of whom were dressed very nicely & I was trying to find my outfit before ? came to pick me up just diging through a box of clothes that had spilled all over the ground, but the janitor came to see me again & was like "we need your help we are performing for the crowd but we cant do this yoyo trick" so I went over to a part that looked like my sister's old room & lo & behold, my old yellow yoyo was stuck in chains that came from the ceiling, so I untangled those and the woke up.

[heartlites]

i had a dream where a mushroom grew under my skin, i did a tarot reading, my inner self is collapsing, and the therapist ive been seeing for approaching a decade is looking to retire from public facing/work with clients in the next one to two years.

back to using my blog as a little bit of a dairy these days, i suppose

there's just so much on my mind. im aching from the inside out, like i need to throw up to get all the grief out of my body.

in the last week, i had a dream that felt poignant. ive been dreaming kind of vividly the last couple weeks, things that have stress bleeding into them. normal dreams turning into what i do for my job, benign things becoming mild forms of body horror.

the dream in particular im referring to was one where i felt like i had a kind of sore on my left armpit. i went to 'pop it,' like perhaps it was an ingrown hair or simple black head. as it came out, the mass slowly got thicker and larger, a milky white and genuinely gross. i was shocked and appalled something so seemingly large came from such a small place, just a pore in my skin, and slowly rolled it between my fingers in bewilderment. as i did, parts of the white cylindrical shaped mess that came from underneath my skin started to unfurl and i began to recognize the the unfurling cap of a mushroom and eventually the gills underneath the cap. as soon as i recognized that, i immediately felt insanely ill inside my own body and like i was rotting from the inside out. i woke up not long after that with the need to tear my skin off my own body. the dream sat with me for a long time with its vividness and how grotesque it made me feel inside my own body.

that weekend, i did a tarot reading. five cards. it began with a major arcana, strength, upright. a strong beginning and one that gave me comfort; strength is a tarot card im very partial to in general because its depiction is one of gentle, inner strength and wisdom. i felt assured- but then the reading from there got more and more complex.

ace of coins, upright; seven of cups, upright; seven of swords, upright; six of swords, reversed. the cards all feel very connected given the bridge of sevens, and the next link being sword into sword. there are parts of the reading that confuse me still, but ultimately i think it meant that inner change is coming, or trying to happen, but im fighting it and it wont be easy.

monday came. a woman screamed at me over the phone at work. i spent the day so overwhelmed with grief, emotion, and distress my eyes were puffy and burning from crying. my nose was sore. my throat hurt. all i could think was i needed help. i needed help. i needed help more than twice a month. i wanted to admit myself to a psych ward.

before all of this, i saw my therapist last week. we talked. i usually lead the conversation a lot and i end up just rambling, sometimes crying. usually crying. i've been seeing my therapist for so long that i know a little about her life, too. i mentioned that i think i wanted help with someone for my thoughts and feelings wrt my gender and gender expression. its not really her area of expertise (hers is grief and trauma). we talked a little more and we discussed a little about how she is considering retiring from the public work of working with clients. she'll still run her business, but probably won't take clients.

its not a change that scares me too much, but it is a little nerve-wracking. ive been seeing her for so long, since i was about 19 or 20. my dad was the one who sought out help to help me find her. i havent had to search for a therapist entirely on my own. its hard to know where and who i want to try to search for cause i do have this background need of wanting help with my queerness and id love to have a queer therapist, but in general, i am plagued constantly by grief, trauma, and loss. idk how to find someone who does both. im worried. im scared.

my life feels so out of my control. i feel so isolated from everything, everyone. lost in my own head. i just ache ache ache. i dont know what to do with myself. all i can think is that i need help, i need help, i need help and i dont know what to do to get it, who to go to, how to get it. ive been going through the throes of ptsd episodes the last few weeks, maybe month.

this doesnt even dig into my concerns and worries about my physical health, too. ive had pretty normal menstrual cycles my entire life minus one point in time where i didnt have a period for several months, i believe due to stress. the beginning of this year, though, i didn't have my period for a while too and then i started having light bleeding that went on for around two weeks. then, all of a sudden, this week, ive had the heaviest period ive ever had in my life.

my mom had the same issues around my age. i think its probably ovarian cysts which are ultimately pretty common and not terrible to deal with. my mom had them too- but then she later had cervical cancer. i have to finally give in and have an exam done for my health, but my god am i scared. i dont want to. i really dont want to. i know im going to have a ptsd meltdown when i do. i know. and i dont know how well i can manage having these ptsd episodes where part of them are due to emotional and psychological trauma, and then more episodes rooted in my sexual traumas. idk what im going to do. im so scared and i feel so alone facing all this on my own. i dont know who to turn to or talk to.

im so tired and broken. thats all i can think. i need help. im breaking, im breaking, im broken.

[amtk86]

FNAF TIMELINE FOR NARRATIVE PURPOSES:

My roommate and I decide to make a FNAF timeline stuffed with headcannons to make the overall narrative nicer. Will it be the canon timeline, probably not, but I think we made a damn good story with the pieces we had.

Some rules here: for one, we use a LOT of Matpat’s theories in this, including Gregory is Crying Child. Don’t like it? Too bad, it makes sense to us. Also, I remembered that Evan was never 100% confirmed to be CC’s name so I’m calling him Gregory as his birth name. Also me and my roommate are a bit iffy on whether Henry committed suicide rather than stepped down and when Afton got springtrapped. Plus, the whole VR nonsense was confusing so I tried my best, please spar mercy. Again, this is just us trying to make a good narrative, we doubt it’s canon.

- Henry and William open Fredbear’s Family Dinner, it comes wildly successful due to Henry’s ingenious robotic skills. They begin to expand and experiment

- The Aftons get divorced and William uses Elizabeth to lie in court and win custody of the kids. The mother commits suicide in response

- For the new location, Circus Baby’s Pizza, Henry creates Baby in a experimental fashion but she had too many glitches and kinks, leading to Elizabeth’s death.

- Elizabeth possesses Baby, Afton discovers remnant. (Afton seems like the kinda guy to experience grief and make it everyone else’s problem so it makes sense for Elizabeth to be the inciting incident for the whole series)

- Afton kills Charlie, both to get back at Henry because he blames him for Elizabeth’s death and to study Remnant more. Charlie possesses the puppet. Gregory witnesses this and becomes terrified of his father.

- William begins terrorizing Gregory with Henry’s sound disk in an effort to keep him away from the pizzeria. Gives him a lonely fredbear to keep a better eye on him

- Henry creates a robot version of Charlie in his grief, pigtail girl (remember how Baby is the perfect adult Charlie in the books? Since Pigtail girl looks like Baby, this could be child Charlie). She is not infused with remnant but is sentient.

- Despite his father’s warnings, Mike takes Gregory to the the pizzeria because his friends are supposed to have a party for him. No one shows up and Gregory gets upset. Mike pranks him by putting his head in the Fredbear mask, but it severely injures him. This is the Bite of ‘83. The events of FNAF 4 play out; Gregory’s dreams while in the hospital, where he eventually dies. Fredbear’s closes. This event also retires the springlock suits.

- Afton tries to make a robot Gregory in lieu of what Henry did with Charlie but he doesn’t know how to make it sentient without remnant, he puts the failed robot in a box (this is a surprise tool that will help us later)

- Because he blames Gregory’s friends for his death, he kills them all 2 years later in a new location in what is known as the Missing children’s incident. He stuffs their bodies in the suits and decides to see if they become infected with remnant. Fazbear’s shuts down a year later due to bad PR.

- A ton of remnant experimentation later, Afton comes back to further study the animatronics. He destroys them to collect their remnant but unknowingly releases their souls. They scare him into his spring trap suit were it fails and crushes him. He “dies” there. The spirits, however, are not at peace and return back to the animatronics.

- Henry discovers Afton and connects him to the murders. In an act of vengeance and to partially save face after working with him for so long, seals his body in the safe room and starts to create newer animatronics.

- Because his father has been missing, Micheal begins to look for clues to find out what happened to him. The events of Sister Location play out and after discovering his father’s horrific deeds, vows to right the wrongs of his family. Keep in mind, Micheal is newly scooped and decaying but still human looking.

- Henry creates the toy animatronics with more safety precautions than the original ones. Charlie’s soul starts fucking with their programming and the animatronics start becoming increasingly aggressive towards adults. FNAF 2 plays out. Once Mike shows up (under the name Fritz to not draw Henry’s attention), the animatronics become ridiculously aggressive because he looks like Afton. This ends with Mangle biting the day guard, Jeremy’s, frontal lobe off—eventually killing him. The new location shuts down and won’t open again for a while.

- Henry steps down as Fazbear’s owner due to the guilt of all the pain his creations have caused. Jeremy was the final straw basically.

- A new pizzeria opens using the original animatronics. Mike sees his chance to get more of an idea what’s happening. Fnaf 1 plays out. The new location shuts down, AGAIN. Mike gets a clue as to what may have happened to his father and resolves to find him, Baby/Elizabeth agrees but the others do not.

- Because of the different goals, Ennard forcibly exits Mike and kicks Baby out of Ennard. This should have killed Mike, but he’s basically a zombie powered by guilt and determination.

- YEARS into the future, Fazbear frights opens. Mike goes to work there and the events of Fnaf 3 play out. At this point, Mike knows how remnant works and knows it is weak to fire. Hoping to kill his father and possibly bring peace to the others, he sets the place on fire. However, Cassidy makes her beef everyone else’s problem.

- Henry, determined to right his own wrongs, creates a pizzeria to lure the animatronics and put a final end to their spirits. Mike takes the job. Pizzera Simulator plays out. Once Henry sets fire to everything, everyone’s spirits move on except for Gregory, Cassidy, Elizabeth, Afton, and Mike.

- Cassidy refuses to move on until she’s had her proper revenge on Afton. She basically keeps him alive so that she can eternally torment his nightmares. She’s unintentionally keeping Gregory trapped with her and Elizabeth and Mike wont move on until the rest of their family moves on. Ultimate Custom night.

- A new fazbear themed attraction is built on top of the remains of the pizzeria with all new animatronics. Mike’s spirit possesses Glamrock Freddy but his spirit isn’t active yet.

- Because all of these souls are connected to one another, Cassidy, Elizabeth, Gregory and Afton all imprinted on the CPU of the computer. The CPU is eventually used to create a video game (look I can only do so much to make FNAF make sense, VR is a trip) and creates an AI version of their consciousness.

- Vanessa’s infected with both Elizabeth and Glitchtrap’s code, who manipulates her into letting Elizabeth take on her form

- Elizabeth takes on Vanessa’s form, becomes Vanny (note how one ending shows there are two Vanessas and Baby is known for mimicking human beings perfectly. I think it’s plausible), taking the code for Gregory and finding his old robot and activating it. He is terrified and runs away from Vanny. She remakes Springtrap out of Glamrock Bonnie so she can put Afton’s code inside of him

- Help Wanted happens and releases Glitchtrap. Cassidy goes on to possess the Princess Quest games so she can continue to fight against Afton in virtual form while he is still dormant in the charging station.

- Gregory hides out in the mall for a while until Vanny discovers his hide out. He hides inside of Glamrock Freddy and Security breach plays out

[ask-the-team-rocket-executives]

D??

D = Dreams: How do they picture their future with their s/o?

NOTE: I added little things for every character that I feel from my personal headcannons of what type of person they may be into, but these are just my personal opinions and headcannons! All s/o posts are gender neutral as well. 😊💕

Ariana: One of Ariana's number one priorities is to feel that she can live comfortably. It doesn't mean she's looking for a person with a lot of money to spare, but someone who will know she needs to feel like there's nothing to worry about, and who also knows that she needs space sometimes. She enjoys the thought that someone is always there for her and in her corner. She also enjoys the thought of having a partner who's okay with a little touchy touchy back and forth. She may want kids but may act a little stand off-ish about it for a while because she isn't sure if she's ready and how to express herself when she's ready to talk about it. She likes to imagine having a few children running around and although she may not want a HUGE family, she wouldn't mind 3 or 4 kids. Ultimately she'd like to eventually have children, travel, and if not work in Team Rocket have a steady career doing something she enjoys, whether it's makeup or administrative work.

Archer: He would love to keep his s/o as close as possible, even to the point of trying to employ them within Team Rocket or wherever he works just to be able to see them or watch out for them throughout the day, but worries about the risks of his job or their unhappiness. I think he feels he could be happy almost anywhere with the person he loves but would like to feel like they have a stable place to live and not like he's dragging them around through phases of his own life, and would secure housing for both of them to live within the walls and fortresses of Team Rocket. He's not against having children, but he doesn't want to find out that he isn't in his s/o's or child's life as much as he hoped he would be or could promise. He also worries about if he would really want them to grow up to be the way he is, thinking about the inevitable dangers that come with his work and how he had to fall down so much to become cunning. If he felt safe enough or worked somewhere different, he'd like to live somewhere urban in a house or condo with lots of sunshine. When it comes to home life, he likes the idea of being snuggly with his s/o throughout the day and enjoying the silence that comes after putting his child/children to bed. His s/o may be someone he finds "frilly" and "sweet" I guess you could say.

Proton (Manga Proton. Sorry, I never got the chance to play the game!! 🙈): I think Proton can be a tuffy. He wants to sit down and structure their futures but he doesn't know of how to say what he means without getting flustered or getting off topic, or making things feel like an interrogation about the rest of their lives. He may sound a little sudden in his suggestions and wants, but he's been thinking about things constantly and doesn't quite understand the "communication" part sometimes. It goes to show that a level head can't fix everything if you can't communicate well. He would also want his s/o to live in Team Rocket housing if they feel comfortable, and wouldn't complain about living in a small space that secretly gives him cabin fever. If they didn't live there and/or he had a different job, they'd probably be living in an apartment or condo somewhere urban to feel the flow of the city and like everything they need is less than a mile away. He'd try to find something to devote his career life toward, and it would probably be close to what he does now. I don't think he's inclined on having an early retirement, and he'd like to have at least two kids. I think he'd probably like someone who thinks more structured (Someone who can keep up with him.) or someone who is at least an out-of-the-box thinker.

Petrel: Petrel probably doesn't think far enough ahead in life to have a clear picture of what he wants and tends to "go with the flow," so he may sometimes spend more time on thinking of what his s/o may need as long as he himself doesn't push his own boundaries over. Like Archer, he may try to convince them to consider housing within the walls of Team Rocket for safety but also partially because he wouldn't be able to commute long distances every time he worried about them or felt they were being left out of his loop like a badly behaved frat boyfriend (Which I don't think he is.). I think he's can actually be pretty adoring and/or cuddly towards an s/o contrary to popular belief, and would ultimately try to sit down with them and make things work. I don't think he'd be against kids, but I don't think he'd want a huge family until he started having them. I don't think Archer and Petrel are similar, but I do think that Petrel may also like someone "frilly" and "sweet" and energetic or someone laid back and quiet.

[heybeybey]

Did I ask you the peaceful rivetra cabin one honey with a slice of nsfw ?? ( if I did already ignore this 😭)

Not yet! @himebee-5 And I'm glad you requested this! Anyway, you know how long my HC posts are so the actual cabin headcanon comes in halfway through (this is 1,454 words wtf) haha

This is 3 full cups of honey, a dash of dramatic angst in the beginning and two teaspoons of NSFW btw.

Hope you'll enjoy!!

Rivetra Cabin +++ (you’ll understand what the + is later on) Canonverse AU

Petra lived through the 57th failed expedition but both her and Levi were permanently injured. Petra came out with a spinal injury and while the doctors did say that she's going to make a partial recovery, her mobility won't be the same as before. 

Levi, on the other hand, lost his left leg. Both have no choice but to retire from the Survey Corps.

I want to add a dash of drama so in this Canonverse AU, the Military Police are forcing Levi to go back to the Underground. 

His temporary citizenship above ground is revoked since he's not going to be a Scout anymore and he wasn't able to fulfill the required service years needed to become a permanent resident (this is something that I just came up with lol)

Erwin tried to pull some strings but even he can't do much since the Survey Corps' reputation is tarnished at this point (same as what happened in the show). The MP tried multiple times to escort Levi out the Survey Corps HQ but Erwin and Hange always finds an excuse to delay it a bit (ex: wrapping things up regarding his dead squad, recovering for a month or two until he can be escorted back etc.)

Petra, stressed and panicking over the fact that her captain will be dragged back to the Underground, frantically begs Levi to run away with her.

Note that they don't have a relationship (yet) and Levi was surprised at her suggestion since Petra lives a decent life as a citizen born in Wall Rose. 

He refuses and said that he can run away by himself if needed but Petra argues that now that he's disabled, he needs someone who will support him.

Our girl got bolder since she knows that they're not really Captain and Subordinate anymore.

She was persistent and a day before they know the MPs will come knocking again, he gives in and they made a run for it.

Erwin and Hange def. arranged a few things for them and Erwin even expedited their last salary

They jumped from one cheap apartment to another just to escape the MPs and finally found a cabin they can afford on a slightly rundown village somewhere north and towards the edge of Wall Rose

It wasn't the best village to live but definitely still better than the Underground (or in jail, in Petra's case since technically she just helped a criminal escape)

Few years passed (let's say their universe had a happy ending that Isayama won't probably give us 😭) and the MP gave up on Levi's case.

Petra and Levi live a quiet life together :3 Both of them needs some support when walking so they do have a crutch (for Levi) and a wheelchair (sometimes for Petra) on hand.

Levi used his last salary and savings to open a small tea shop in the village while they used Petra's for their monthly expenses during the first year. The tea shop eventually was able to support them once it started picking up.

Levi thought he'd hate not being able to serve in the Scouts but was surprised that he did prefer this domestic bliss instead.

He usually prepares the tea while Petra serves the customers in their tea shop.

They'd support each other in cleaning the cabin til it's spotless.

Petra buys groceries every week while Levi focuses more on cooking and laundry for the both of them.

It wasn't easy living together at first since we all know how Levi is and since they're really equals now, Petra doesn't hesitate in speaking her mind anymore. They'd sometimes clash but Levi is the one who often approaches her to apologize and make up.

They both hear news about what's happening and Erwin and Hange sometimes visit them (I want a happy ending for this so Daddy Sasageyo and Hange are both alive ok)

They didn't immediately jump one another btw. They both know that there are already feelings between them but Levi's too emotionally constipated to explore it, much less make it official.

It happened 2 years into living together. Levi was watching Petra sweep the floor and just abruptly said that they should get married.

Petra dropped the broom in shock and her face was absolutely comical. While she and Levi did have a few romantic moments here and there (small but unofficial dates, cheek and forehead kisses given subconsciously), they never talked about an actual relationship.

Levi said that they're already living together anyway and wasn't her dad upset that she's living with a man but not married to said man?

He also remembers the time when they were still in the Scouts and he and his squad were talking about what it might be like to be married since Eld just announced his engagement (rip ☹️)

His only contribution to that conversation btw is "no" when asked if he wanted to get married lol 

Anyway, he remembered how Petra said that she once dreamed about getting married someday and having a happy family. However, at that time, her dream of dedicating her life to the Scouts was more important than settling down and she doesn't plan to retire for many many years.

They were both silent after that and Levi started feeling embarrassed. He tried to take it back, saying that of course, he understands that she doesn't want to since he is in his mid-30s and she'd probably find a better, able-bodied, younger man in the village instead.

Before he even finishes his apology, Petra said yes :3 (Girl has been fantasizing about this for years, of course she'll say yes haha)

They did a shotgun wedding that same evening and Levi started trying to find ways to romance her. It's all awkward at best and downright embarrassing attempts every single time but Petra wouldn't want it any other way.

Petra, being a romantic at heart, wanted a wedding dance and Levi, being a sap, gave in. They had their own wedding dance of sorts in their cabin the best they could with their conditions.

When they got the cabin, they shared one room but have separate beds. The next day after they got married, Levi found Petra pushing the bed together and she said they're married now and he usually climbs on her bed at the middle of the night whenever he has nightmares anyway.

The first ones to know about their shotgun marriage is Petra's father, Erwin and Hange. Hange dragged Erwin to their cabin the very next day after they received the letter.

Mr. Ral wasn't happy at first that Levi didn't ask for his permission (Petra scolded her father for being too old-fashioned) but he eventually told Levi that he approves as long as he's making Petra happy.

Erwin and Hange brought wedding gifts that can help them with their cabin (new cleaning materials, something for their fireplace and since Hange can be crazy, she also brought baby materials. Most are storybooks and onesies haha)

They weren’t planning on having kids but then Levi started reading the children storybooks that Hange brought and Petra noticed that he’d sometimes get this look in his face

We all know Levi would make a great father!!!!

She asked him to stop using protection one night and after three months of trying, Petra did end up pregnant :3

Now for the spicy HCs 💦

Levi wanted to make sure he does everything the right way for her so yes, they do have a wedding night. It was awkward the first time around but Levi has superb stamina 😏  so they did a few rounds and he got the hang of it the second time around.

After the third round, Petra was begging him if they can go to sleep instead. Levi teased her since she accidentally revealed that she's been fantasizing about fucking her captain for years. Now she's giving up?

Okay, that challenged her and they did one last round lol

Turns out Levi being a clean freak doesn't end with brooms, rags and mops! He's also great with aftercare. 

Since Petra didn't have the energy to shower any longer (also taking into consideration her spine's condition), Levi cleaned her afterwards while she just lay there smiling stupidly in contentment.

Sometimes, aftercare ends in more sex though since Levi can't help himself and he starts teasing her again.

...Petra got dicked down on every furniture in their cabin btw. Their favorite is the wooden living room table because it’s in front of the fireplace. 

[pocket-luv101]

Summary: Mahiru moves to London to become a tutor but he feels homesick. Kuro comforts him. (KuroMahi, Historical Romance AU)

Mahiru couldn’t sleep and he passed the night by staring at the moon and searching for familiar sounds. He never thought something as simple as the subtle sounds of the night would be different between Japan and England. Earlier that week, he moved to London to become a tutor for the royal family. He thought a new job in a different country would be a good change of pace after his uncle passed away. Unfortunately, the weight of his grief only became heavier when it was mixed with feeling homesick.

He planned to go to the kitchen to make himself a warm drink to comfort himself. Mahiru didn’t know the castle’s layout well and he worried that he would become lost. He settled for reading a book in the small classroom built into the castle. On the ledge of the open window, Mahiru breathed in the cool air and he could smell the salty ocean.

“Uncle, I’ve made it to London safe and I was chosen for the position.” He wasn’t an overly religious person but he hoped his uncle was in the stars and watching over him. He also needed to speak his thoughts aloud to make sense of his mixed emotions. “The kids are energetic but they would rather spend that energy on games than their study. I will have to find a way to make lessons fun for them. Perhaps I can ask the king if I can take them on a field trip. The king… He’s not what I expected. Warm.”

He thought about how he met Kuro while he was lost within the sunflower maze. At the time, he didn’t realize that he was the king until they left the maze. Mahiru had taught other noble families and he could sense that Kuro was different from the others. The man didn’t have a haughty personality nor did he look down on others. “His siblings like him. They are a close family. When I watched them play together, I thought of us— Mama, you and I. I miss you both so much. Oyasumi.”

Since he would be living in England for the next few years, he often spoke in English to practise the language. He couldn’t help but slip back to using Japanese to say goodnight to his departed uncle though. The sun would rise in a few hours and he decided that it was best for him to retire to his room. He would need his strength to tutor five young children.

He stepped down from the window sill. A knock on the opened door surprised him and he almost lost his footing. He quickly grabbed the window and he stopped himself from falling onto the ground. He turned towards the door where Kuro stood. Kuro took a few steps towards him and he reached out to help him. Mahiru held up his hand and he reassured him. “I’m fine, Kuro. I didn’t hear you come.”

“Some people say I’m like a black cat, quiet and bad luck.” Kuro gave him an apologetic smile. “Lily is having trouble falling asleep and he needs his stuffed bunny. He said the last place he played with it was your classroom. Have you seen it?”

“Oh, I found his toy while I was cleaning the classroom and I put it on the shelf. Let me get it for you.” Mahiru told him. He took down the stuffed animal from the shelf and he handed it to Kuro. Then, he walked to the window to close the shutters. “It’s sweet of you to come all the way down here for Lily. We can also go to the kitchen to make him warm milk. That should help him fall asleep as well.”

“The corncrakes are louder than usual and they scared Lily. Usually, Illdio’s snoring will drown out the birds.” He shrugged. While Mahiru knew that it was rude to laugh, the dry drawl he had as he joked made him chuckle. He quickly covered his mouth but Kuro didn’t appear offended by his laughter. “Let’s go make that drink for Lily. Are you having trouble sleeping too?”

“Yes, but it’s nothing you have to worry about, my lord. My body simply needs to adjust to London.” Mahiru was only partially lying about the reason he was awake at such a late hour. He walked into the hall and he gestured for Kuro to lead the way to the kitchen. “So, that bird I heard was a corncrake? I thought it sounded unique. In Japan, I would listen to this uguisu at night. It would sing from dusk to dawn. Oh, in London, you would call the bird a nightingale.”

“Does the nightingale in Japan have a different song than the ones here?” In answer to his question, Mahiru whistled softly. Kuro shrugged and he whistled a song of his own. They walked side by side down the hall and mimicked different bird songs. Mahiru found himself relaxing in his presence and he watched Kuro in the corner of his eyes.

“If we don’t stop making bird calls, the castle will be swarmed with nightingales and Lily will never be able to sleep tonight.” Mahiru shook his head but Kuro knew that he wasn’t being serious after he heard his warm laughter. He was glad that he was more relaxed like when they spoke in the sunflower maze. He could sense that he was stiffer after he learned that he was a king.

The main reason he decided to hire Mahiru was because he wasn’t intimidated by his younger siblings’ reputation. During his conversation with Lily, he told him that Mahiru was kind to them and treated them as regular students. He wondered if there was a reason that he was stiffer around him than his siblings. Why did he care? He was a tutor and the only thing that should matter is how well he could teach.

They entered the kitchen and Mahiru searched the large room for the pantry. He looked to Kuro for help but he could see that he was as lost as he was. He must’ve noticed his gaze because he said, “I only know where the chefs hide the cookies and potato chips. Sorry.”

“Well, one of these doors must lead to the milk jars.” Mahiru said as he opened another cupboard. Kuro stood next to him and he reached for the same handle as him. Their fingers brushed together. He couldn’t take his hand back after he looked up at Kuro and he caught his gaze. As attractive as Kuro was, it was improper for them to be so close. Even as he had the thought, he was drawn to him.

Kuro opened the cupboard and he pulled out a jar of milk. “Here.”

“Thanks, Kuro.” He took the jar from him. Mahiru noticed that Kuro had a slight blush on his cheeks and he wondered if his face was the same.

He turned away from him and he focused on making warm milk for Lily. He lit a match and he started a fire over the stove. Mahiru created a makeshift boiler by placing a glass bowl over a pot of water. Then, he poured the milk into the bowl and he stirred it slowly. “This should only take a few minutes. I hope Lily isn’t too worried that you’re not back with his stuffed bunny yet.”

“I’m sure he won’t mind after he sees that you made him a drink. My siblings already like you after one lesson. Hyde told them about how you saved Cain.” Kuro leaned against the counter and he watched him boil the milk. “Do you like London? Moving to a new country must be difficult, especially after you lost your uncle.”

Mahiru’s first instinct was to force himself to smile and reassure Kuro that he was fine. However, he hesitated when he looked into his red eyes filled with sympathy. He simply couldn’t lie to him. A heavy sigh escaped him but the weight on his chest remained. “I’m a little homesick. That shouldn’t affect my work so please be assured your siblings are in good hands.”

“That wasn’t what I was worried about.” Kuro gently placed his hand over his. His touch was comforting and a part of Mahiru was tempted to lean into his warmth. The kindness in his voice caused a strange flutter in his stomach. “You’re friends with Misono so you can talk to him if you need anything.”

“Thank you for thinking of me, my lord. Misono was right when he told me that your family is kind, if a little unconventional. The milk is done so we can go back to Lily.” Mahiru lifted the pot off the stove so he could put out the fire. He poured the warm drink into a cup and said: “Please tell Lily that I hope this helps. I should retire to my own room to sleep. Goodnight, my lord.”

“You can call me by my name, Kuro, instead of ‘my lord’. I’ve never liked titles.” He said as he took the cup from him.

“Okay. We will work closely together because I’m teaching your siblings so it would be nice if we can be friends.” He mused to himself. He held his breath as he waited for Kuro to disagree with him. Since he was a tutor, most would view a friendship between them as inappropriate. Yet, Kuro nodded. Mahiru smiled at his answer and he said, “Goodnight, Kuro.”

“Oyasumi, Mahiru.” His response surprised him. He didn’t notice the blush that appeared on Mahiru’s cheeks. “Ii yumemite ne. My siblings told me that it means ‘goodnight’ and ‘sweet dreams’. Did I pronounce it correctly?”

“It’s not the pronunciation.” When Mahiru helped the children prepare for bed, Lily asked him to teach him a few Japanese words. The child must’ve told Kuro without explaining it’s context. “Only close friends and family say oyasumi to each other before they go to bed. Lily wanted to say goodnight to JeJe in Japanese. I told him to say oyasumi. The more common way to say goodnight is oyasuminasai because it’s formal and polite.”

“Oh,” Kuro worried that he unintentionally made him uncomfortable. “Sorry, I didn’t know. I thought that speaking with you in Japanese would make you feel a little less homesick. Oyasuminasai, Mahiru.”

Kuro started to turn away until he stopped him by catching his arm. Mahiru didn’t know which of them was more surprised by his action, Kuro or himself. He was certain his face still had a hint of his blush. “Thank you, Kuro. It really means a lot to me. Oyasuminasai.”

Mahiru hoped that they would eventually be close enough to say goodnight the way Kuro did initially.

[hermitcraftheadcanons]

Pirate AU Masterpost

Different ships captained and crewed by different hermits, maybe some could be normal sailors too? Or maybe even some could be sirens? There could be a pirate ship, a pirate hunting ship/law-keeping ship, some random shipping vessels, some sirens or sea monsters, or whatever else! I envision Doc as a pirate captain and Xisuma as the law enforcement captain, but it's open to whatever changes! (@-shadeswiftdraws.)

Headcanons to start us off:

-Bdubs is a fruity sailor.

-Cub and Scar sell things to both pirates and the law enforcement. They only take the aide of profit.

-DocM threatened Bdubs into joining him. Whether it worked is up to the 'what gets popular' Gods. If not, he probably just holds Bdubs hostage or something.

-Hypnotizd's bandana has a skull and crossbones on it, as does Etho's headband.

-False is feared by Doc.

-Grian has a parrot that always sits on his shoulder. Doc keeps telling him to get rid of it but Grian refuses.

-Iskall wears an eyepatch.

-Hypnotizd has scurvy.

-iJevin makes maps and sells em to pirates to keep them off his back. Did he bury the treasure? I dunno.

-All of ZIT collectively own a boat. They like to pretend its a yacht and have fun. Sometimes they just use it to relax, sometimes they just go fishing. Sometimes they scare each other with stories of pirates and massive storms.

-Joe Hills is scared of the water because he nearly drowned as a child. But when he ends up accidentally stowing away on the ZIT boat, his worst fears happen.

-Keralis is Xisuma's second in command.

-TFC is a retired sailor that knows too much.

-VintageBeef and basically all of the NHO are with Doc.

-XbCrafted grew up by the beach and likes to collect shells. One time he found a fossil of a dinosaur. What will he do? I don't know. His childhood friend, Hypnotizd, left to be a pirate. Xb hasn't heard from him since (he promised he'd write letters,) and fears the worst.

-ZombieCleo is a dead zombie captain. Her and her crew (the gals, and maybe some co,) are out to get their revenge on Doc. Her second in command is Stress but her main muscle in False.

-Mumbo is usually the one who works maintenance on the ship. (He's with Xisuma.)

-Rendog got stuck on an island he's called 'Loser Island' and has been there for at least a year. He's found by Doc.

-Stressmonster makes people fear her through her name, but they usually laugh when they see her because she's really unintimidating.

-Welsknight hoardes cool swords.

-Everyone underestimates Stress when they see her but those who have faced her in battle have realized their mistake. She is slowly but surely gaining the reputation as one of the most feared pirates of the seven seas. She’s still very sweet if you get to know her tho - 🌙

-At some point while attempting to leave the ZIT crew's yacht, Joe somehow ends up with Cleo and the gals in the middle of the ocean, who take pity on him. Because they help him with his fear and take care of him on the way back to land, he decides to stick with them for good. The Navy and a lot of other pirates don't believe that Cleo can be the captain of such a feared vessel or that False can be that deadly and decide that Joe must be doing it all. He takes joy in deferring to Cleo whenever he can, and the whole crew gets a laugh out of his combat attempts. He mainly handles navigation and stuff, though he does record their adventures and anonymously submit them to newspapers and/or publish his accounts. (Don't want to skip the Joe+ZIT stuff, just love him and Cleo and need that dynamic :-) )

-Half siren/merman grian? - Frost Anon

-Different anon adding to the Merman Wels idea, he's a siren but instead of stealing your life he steals your swords and shinies. Some pirates may be on good terms with him and gives him swords occasionally and ask for directions or just hang out with him and be nice (I'd think Ren would sing with him and Jevin would hang out and steal shinies with him landing both their crews on good terms with him. He may even follow them around as it can be lonely in the ocean)

-Mumbo never meant to be a pirate. There was just a mutiny of the last captain he was under and everyone liked him enough to keep him around.

-Some loser thinks that joe is the muscle of the group and asks for a duel. cleo decides fuck it and just pushes joe into a fight with them because thats how she be sometimes. (False is on standby so joe doesn't get creamed)

-https://hermitcraftheadcanons.tumblr.com/post/619926302710956032/another-take-on-the-pirate-au-concept

- At some point, Cleo's ship begins picking up stray orphaned children. They are kept safe below deck during battle and are taught by the crew how to run a ship and fight, but Cleo also teaches them stuff like how to read and do math. The crew is very protective of the young'uns and the ship eventually becomes known for the fact that they take care of kids. Most other ships, upon learning this, respect that and don't attack them. If a ship does, they will find that the Rotten Corpse is viscous, and has many powerful friends who will back them up. If Doc or X come across Cleo's ship, they will give the kids gifts and stay close for a bit to provide protection. As the kids grow up some go back to shore and build legitimate/legal lives (including opening an orphanage) but a group of them go off and become their own pirate crew! Their ship's name? I don't know, I'm not clever.

-In a tavern someone's just like "im gonna sail to this island." Tfc, sitting nearby "you wont find anything" a little while later that ship goes missing. No one actually knows what tfc found in his sailing days. But my god does he know where to avoid

(All above in red are from our community's lovely Anons!)

-The ZIT boat is a bit of a disaster because each person always thinks it's the other people's turn to maintain it. Joe probably saw it on an evening beach walk and thought it was abandoned, decided to explore it, and accidentally fell asleep in the hold. He wakes up to the ZIT boys arguing about what to do with him.

-Xisuma has a reputation for being strict and disciplined and running a very tight ship, but if you're actually on his crew you'll know that's a front for intimidation purposes. In reality he is organised but extremely forgiving, and he will often sit down with crew who are new or going through something stressful and talk it out with them.

-Iskall is with Cleo's crew, he appears just as driven as the rest of them but he's mostly just there to make sure Cleo and co don't go too overboard with the revenge thing. He just doesn't want them to do something they'll regret....

-Wels can be a merman! He hoards cool swords as souvenirs of the surface world and dreams of two-legged adventurers and explorers.

-The "incident" that put Cleo on the path of undead revenge was partially accidental. Doc's goal was to raid the ship and get away with no casualties, but things escalated way too quickly. He is haunted by what happened, but Cleo doesn't know that and is determined to hunt him and his crew down.

-Pirate singalong nights! Doc's ship definitely has a singalong under the stars every night, where everyone can gather together and relax and let loose. It's fun to think about who would be good at it, and who would be bad at it but sing anyway ☺️

-Grian starts off on Doc's ship (with his parrot), but he gets washed overboard in a storm. Siren!Wels rescues him and gives him siren magic.

-I got tired of referring to "Xisuma's ship" and "Doc's ship", so: X's ship is called the Voidrunner, and Doc's vessel is the Black Goat. (Cleo's is The Rotting Corpse -Anon.)

-(I did a submission mentioning ConPost earlier, so look at that for context) The ConPost boys don't sail, but they're very knowledgable about sailing supplies and even ship repair. Cub does bookkeeping and negotiates big deals. Scar likes to wander the docks checking stock levels, with Jellie napping in piles of rope or following close behind.

-https://hermitcraftheadcanons.tumblr.com/post/619819577428279296/for-the-pirate-au-cub-and-scar-own-a-supply

-Xisuma is feared and respected by pirates because his ship is one of the first/only steam powered vessels at the time. Mumbo is his engineer; he maintains the mechanics and is constantly testing ways to make the ship faster and more efficient.

-If you ask Iskall why he wears an eye patch, you will get a wild tale of adventure and heroic battle that may take an hour to relate. However, the story is different every time. He actually lost his eye in a completely non-pirate related accident as a child. It just sounds cooler the way he tells it 😂

- About Joe moving from the ZIT crew to Cleo's ship: Joe really wants to be taken back to shore, and the ZIT lads understand his fear of water and try to take him back as soon as possible. However, they get caught in a storm, and the boat isn't in great shape to weather it. The boat is not quite wrecked, but badly damaged, and Joe is washed overboard. Cleo's crew finds him and pulls him aboard to save him (maybe siren!Wels helped bring him to her!)

-As a pirate Etho is known for his skill in boarding enemy ships. It doesn't matter how many ropes you cut, how many pirate grappling hooks you throw into the sea in an effort to keep them from your decks. Even if there's no possible way across, Etho will just sort of.. . End Up on your ship, and you will end up in Davy Jones' locker. (Based on the creepy teleport thing with Grian, and just Etho's general cryptid-ness)

-The sea spray and the general ocean humidity is horrible for Doc's arm. Ren helps him keep it as clean and rust-proof as possible, but it still probably squeaks a lot and stiffens up sometimes.

(-@shadeswiftdraws.)

-ZombieCleo's gal (& co.) crew includes Iskall. [More info pending for when I finally get around to watching s6 and see the infamous Iskall & Stress duo in action] (-@basaltdragon.)

-Inspired by shade: Cub is an ex-sailor, and Scar grew up in a family of fishers. Cub was really good at ship maintainence (he just got sick of the politics), and Scar loved keeping stock of the fishing nets and what sort of fish were caught, how much they might sell for, though he's not as good at repairs.

-For the Pirate AU, Mumbo telling Siren/MerGrian stories of the surface world and (secretly?) making a way for Grian to see it for himself. (-@shiniestumbreon.)

-Pirate au: one day there is a really bad storm that destroys all of the hermits boats except for one of them. So now all the hermits are all on one boat that’s really far away from land. (Angst part) some of them went over board (I’m thinking the captains maybe) so the remaining hermits are either grieving them or looking desperately hoping that their crew mates are still alive and clinging to wreckage. Who they find, if they do find any of them is up to the reader for now. (-@lookitsspacekween.)

- Mumbo, being the spoon he is always forgets where he buries his treasure. (-@xxpzmistxx.)

-Mumbo, as the Voidrunner's engineer, has so much to work on that Xisuma will sometimes take over the maintenance so poor Mumbo can get some sleep. This leads to the hunt for a secondary engineer and maybe that's how Mumbo and Iskal end up meeting. (-@my-cat-is-a-bastard.)

-A cat scratched out Iskall's eye as a kid, and he's too embarrassed to tell anyone. He's still a bit afraid of cats, so you'll always see him keeping a close eye on Jellie when he's at the dock. (-@12u3ie.)

- i dont really know much about pirates but ima try!! ok so, cleo is human, but she gets the nickname "zombie cleo" because she faked her own death. people thought she drowned, and her old crew along with her. most of them went to live normal lives under different names, but cleo missed the sea and eventually returned to being a pirate, eventually becoming the capitain of a new ship. (i hope this makes sense lol) (-@bakubakunyanyaa.)

-Pirate headcanons! As someone said before Ren and Wels are friends and like to sign together. I can imagine Wels telling the Black Goat that there is a treasure burried in Loser Island to get Ren rescued. Also! People think Ren is halve siren/has siren magic as he is really good at singing and the melodies he hums are similar to the ones sirens are said to sing, turns out just a bit of siren magic and Wels singing style rubbed on Ren during all the time they spent together singing.

-More pirate hc cause i have no self control and they are not a lot of them: Doc gives shiny stuff to Wels in exchange of him warning them when X’s crew is on a port. Iskall is also a great engineer and is working to make the Rotten Corpse Steam powered too. He insist Cleo to let him take a peek on the Voidrunner to see if he can copy Mumbo’s work, the gals agree this is the most dangerous idea Iskall has.

(-@ivi-prism.)

-Ship AU! Hypno originally joined the ship's crew with his friend, Jessassin. They became a swashbuckling duo, and still sometimes work together, despite Jessassin's inactivity from pirate duties. (-@calmshejaguar.)

[handlewcaare]

Art credit: @kajuhz

Since the time he crawled out of his grave at the laboratory, isolation was the best company he could make. Anyone who approached him with well-meaning intentions were shot down. Mistakes were bound to happen, but he would have been a fool to make the same one twice.

Once he returned to the little hole in the wall that was his agency, he ensured to keep a gun wherever was accessible for a friendly genetist. Was it paranoia? He didn’t know, but he thought he was desensitized to it all. What one man’s fatal wounds were his blisters and mild annoyances.

That had been the exact reason as to why the Association wanted him.

Several years after he retired from being a lab rat, his agency ran slow. People would hire him for small investigative work, nothing that he usually did in the golden days. It was honest work, he wouldn’t complain, finding a stalker within the bushes and seizing him got his mind off it. However, with the rapid development of caped crusaders typically found in comic books, what good was an old gumshoe?

It wasn’t until a monster had destroyed his agency that he comprehended why people regarded them as a persistent menace.

The fault was his own for leaving his agency unlocked, but after seeing years of evidence for cold cases left in ashes, his regrets immediately flourished to rage. Furor was not a typical characteristic of his, but after seeing his furniture destroyed, the maps and photographs partially charred or shredded, the malicious being only grinned at how he set down his groceries by his feet and locked the door.

The aroma of burning flesh against the lashing tongue of a conflagration never bothered him. How his muscles and ligaments were shredded under the velocity of the being’s claws never hindered his own onslaught. How he had to pry his own intenstines out from his peritoneal cavity to prevent him from tripping over it never evoked a sense of horror. He would give credit when it was due, the doctor certainly enhanced his healing factor.

As it turned out, a Griffin-like being with a flaming head was harder to swat than he anticipated. From a bucket of water, to using the fire extinguisher before bashing it’s skull with the end of the empty canister, he didn’t know how long the fight lasted until it was a new record.

Seven days. Four hours. Twenty minutes.

As someone once said, “time flies when you’re in an adrenaline rush.”

Not even after he hobbled out of the destroyed agency with the singeing aroma of salt, copper, gasoline and rotting flesh, was he greeted with the cries reserved for the victor. Gasping and cheering onlookers could only watch in wide-eyed wonder and admiration at how he stood in grotesque triumph. Being in the limelight never gave him comfort, in fact, he nearly shuffled to escape the crowd as soon as possible.

“We could use someone like you,” a man in a well-tailored suit said, “I’m part of this association and—”

“No,” a harsh refutation, he knows, but he knew better than to hand out his trust like brochures.

In spite of his protest, the intern attempted to chase after him, “but, sir! That monster was a threat level—!” Demon? Dragon? Dog? Who knew. It wasn’t until his arm, the one hanging by a thread of rotting muscle, fell off his shoulder that he was finally left be. The suppressed disgust did not go unnoticed.

“I don’t care.”

Not initially. Had it been his choice, he wouldn’t have even dreamed of being regarded as a poster boy. Since being confined in a pseudo-cage match with just about every abomination Genus could conjure, joining a group of Boy Scouts would have heightened his sensitivity to something he encountered often.

He could barely stomach analyzing a pallid, frigid reflection of himself projected onto a stranger. To envision that scarlet thread lay limp between their finger and his own—a relationship he could best describe as acquaintances—only served as an irritant he couldn’t scratch out. Though, that might have been amplified by the constant attempts to recruit him.

At this point of his life, the private investigator would resume his work. He always did, even after spending a quarter of his immortal days chained to a wall with nothing but his thoughts and his weapons to keep him company.

His last case was what prompted him to apply.

He didn’t know who hired him, but he did know that someone managed to figure out the address to his homely apartment. When asked whether he knew who the handwriting belonged to, none of them would have matched the description of the writer.

Lollipops?

The private investigator couldn’t help but be a bit dubious, but it was better than getting harassment calls and emails from interns. He read somewhere that people ate sweets to stimulate their thinking, but he just assumed it was a quick way to get a sweet tooth.

What the hell, he needed to get some coffee anyway.

As instructed, he took the public transit to Y-City. Folks were more kinder, a bit pompous, but it could have been due to the fact that he was a walking carcass that made headlines already—save for the idol hero, Anal Mask or whatever the hell his name is—but college kids were quick to point out where Doctor Hajime’s lab was. “He teaches my robotics class,” was the usual answer.

By the time he encountered the front door, he counted how many seconds he would have to escape. Chances were there was gonna be a cyborg or a robot to try and pin him down, inject him with something to make him black out. He had his machetes tucked under the collar of his shirt, his dessert Eagles were holstered at his hips and he had a handsome fire axe within the bag of lollipops and candy apples. He had time to escape, he would ensure that he would, least he opt to shove himself into the nearby wood chipper to finally do himself in.

What he anticipated from the opening door was an older gentleman, someone with a bow tie and unruly and snowy hair. His countenance would have been cobwebbed with age, his shoulders hunched to pronounce a spinal compression. Yet, he would offer a smile as dulcet and as mannerly as any other kind old man.

Instead, the private investigator was greeted with a boy with vibrant tawny eyes and a little auburn curl at the top of his crown. He had to be no older than nine years old. He couldn’t have been any taller than the door knob.

In an instant, he snuffed out his cigarette against the masonry and knelt down to the kid’s height. An instinctual response from someone who was once an uncle—father?—in a family who had long forgotten about him. “Hey kiddo,” the investigator began, “you seen where your dad went off to?”

As incredulous as the kid was, the investigator nearly assumed he went to the wrong place. That was until the boy spoke, “Considering I haven’t seen my father in nearly four years, I’m afraid not,” he paused as he offered a small, wistful smile, “but trust me, you’re not the first person to ask me that.”

Safe to assume that the child genius was much more hospitable than the private investigator was accustomed to. Then again, as he presented a lollipop to the child, those tawny eyes flourished as he hastily accepted the treat from the detective’s grasp. “Thank you, sir!”

“Don’t mention it,” whether or not he was aware of it, there was a smile that aligned.

As the two of them enjoyed their sweets, Hajime elucidated further about the technological black market. What routes they typically took and how he managed to figure out their patterns. The kid truly did have a good head on his shoulders.

“I have a hypothesis that these robots that are being trafficked underneath City W, X, Y and Z aren’t really used for security.”

“And why do you think so?”

“Well, Z-City has a lot of manifestations of monsters. If basic security-Trons were sent off to handle the threats, it would be a waste of resources. I mean, it’s carbon and bismuth—it’s elementary stuff.”

The boy paused as he used his watch as a hologram to present the blueprint of one of the robots. The private eye wasn’t exactly ‘technologically savvy,’ but Hajime called it ‘basic’ so he would just have to take his word for it.

“But that’s not what caught my attention,” he elucidated, as the boy extended his fingertips, the robot’s physique separated by segments of its parts. When he pointed toward a certain adapter, the private investigator couldn’t help but furrow his brows a bit.

“That’s a cranial nerve implant.”

Hajime paused, as if he had fully prepared an exasperative and long-winded statement, “you’ve encountered them before?”

When implored, he suppressed the urge to visibly quake under the phantasmic impulses of electricity that had once trailed down the expense of his brain stem. It was a way to analyze how fast he developed increased intracranial pressure, he remembered Genus saying.

“Friend was a doc,” a decent lie that Hajime seemingly overlooked, though the private investigator felt an acrimonious taste in his mouth. “She said something about how it’d use electricity to wake up dead nerves.”

His russet glare narrowed as he brought a hand to caress his own chin, “thought they’d still be in development...”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking!” For a moment, the boy’s joviality made him appear exactly his age.

Ah- now it’s starting to make sense.

“From what I know, Z-City has monsters just about every corner,” the investigator began. His baritone suddenly lost it’s intrigue once he mentally assembled the puzzle pieces the best he could. “With monsters, people tend to be more scared than they should be. What do you think being scared means?”

The boy’s eyebrows raised, “they’re paranoid?”

“And—?”

“They...” while it was easy to assemble a mechanical enigma to guard civilians, it was harder to provide a baseline to something as fluctuating as human response. Hajime eventually restored to shrugging his shoulders, “...they’re desperate?”

With that, the private investigator pressed a finger to the tip of his nose before he pointed at Hajime. “Desperate people tend to do stupid. If I’m a single father living in Z-City, you think turning into the terminator wouldn’t be my go-to?”

Such analysis didn’t seem to satisfy the boy. Whether or not it was a challenging diatribe, it was enough of a refutation to make the investigator think a bit, “but you know it’s permanent right? I mean, the cranial nerves aren’t exactly something you want to tamper with, especially if those implants can get into your cerebrum and alter you entirely.”

“Well, you—the kid genius—might know that,” he deflected easily, “but what about me? I’m a single father with a degree in underwater basket weaving. Do you think they taught me about cranial nerves while I was trying to make a basket?”

One could hear a pin drop until the boy piped up, “I mean- if you’re scuba diving and you’re weaving the basket—”

“Just finish your lollipop, kiddo.”

Several weeks had passed when they finally traced a call to one of the robotic manufacturers. It was certainly much more handy than to thread scarlet yarn along what tabs had pinned photographs. Then again, doing things the old fashioned way made old habits die hard.

Needless to say, the private eye could understand the boy’s fascination with his toy-like projects. From a giant action figure he kept buried within the depths of the earth to the robot dogs that served as a pseudo-trump card, it was like assembling legos for him. As the two of them took the public transit to Z-City, the two of them settled into a comfortable silence, save for Hajime’s need to tamper with a Rubik’s cube.

Unlike the other Alphabet cities, the ambiance around Z-City felt calloused and empty. It was but the abyss that stared upon them once they left the transit and it gave the private eye an eery sensation that crept along his vertebrae. It must have been that paternal instinct.

“Stay close to me,” he cautioned, though he should have known better that Hajime didn’t like to be talked down to.

“I can take care of myself.”

“—and if I can’t take care of myself?”

Reverse psychology seemed to do wonders, as Hajime’s vanity subsided for the need to have his partner’s back. Should anyone ask, the detective wouldn’t admit the presence of his little smile.

The call had declared that the deal would be set in the alley nestled next to a udon stand and an apartment complex. It was an easy hole in a wall and, considering how the civilian was late, he and Hajime had to play their part. Between himself and no one in particular, he preferred it that way. The last thing he wanted was for someone to die in front of the boy.

“Oi,” the thuggish chirp resounded from the maw of a strange man who looked mechanically modified. His brows were too close to his eyes, accenting a crueler look. The detective fought every urge to usher Hajime behind him. “You Hammerhead?”

He silently reprimanded himself for not bringing a hammer.

“Yeah,” the detective’s response was nonchalant, a lethargic drawl that could have remained hidden within a thick penumbra of nicotine.

“Who’s the brat?”

“Mine,” short and concise, though he let his russet gaze nearly puncture into the dealer, “you want the money or should I show you my wedding photos?” He went in too eager, though that was exactly the point with desperate people. Fortunately, the dealer turned out to simply comply at the mention of money.

“Seven thousand yen.”

It was agreed upon with a shaky baritone by the real customer prior. However, it was a game that the detective often played prior to meeting Dr. Genus. Once he began to thumb his fingers along the bills in his pocket, the dealer swiftly interjected the detective’s counting.

“I-I meant Seventy thousand!”

“Oh?”

Seventy thousand it was that was instantly slapped into the dealer’s hand. However, there was hardly a moment when the dealer abruptly seized the detective’s arm and held him hostage at gunpoint.

Needless to say, one should never underestimate the strength of a man who wanted to make civilians into cyborgs. With an irritated sigh, the immortal felt his head jerk to the side as a bullet pierced through his temporal lobe. Albeit, the moment his body should have sprawled limp was the instant he seized his machete and took a blind swipe. What astonishment and pure horror from the mechanical marvel only wrought a hand to catch the blade.

Fortunately, the fist that veered to deck the detective never came to deliver. Rather, a tendril that emerged from Hajime’s backpack seized the mechanical marvel’s appendage into a tight lock. It was but a split second when the detective retrieved the machete’s twin and severed the appendage.

“Shit—!” The hydra hydrolauics swiftly seized ahold of the being and attempted to suspend him in the air. Hajime’s hands braced tight to his backpack’s straps, though the dealer proved to be a formidable foe, as he laconically wrapped his free arm around a tendril to toss the brat.

Safe to say that the detective prioritized catching the kid than the dealer. Both had landed with a harsh grunt against the asphalt before the detective hastily retrieved his desert Eagle and fired. Once again, it was a null chance, given how he was abruptly seized by his throat and tossed through the brick masonry of the neglected library.

What sanguine from the brunt trauma coagulated and the flesh wounds he sustained, he could only instinctively block the blow from the mechanical marvel. Regular fisticuffs was a fond favorite of his, typically because of how seldom he did it. What reciprocating strike had been enough to swivel his head evoked him to land a brutal bite of his axe into where his opponent should have been.

“Mr. Detective!”

It was but a moment that the private eye peered over to see Hajime with a snapped tendril, it’s cobwebs of electricity was a big enough hint for him. The instant he distanced himself, the dealer had not a moment to abstain when his back arched under the brutal conduction of carbon and lightning. His howl was guttural, ripping through the empty ambiance before he collapsed at their feet.

What should have been a victorious high-five was but a dreadful beat of anticipation. Hajime could only stare down at the beaten villain, “did I kill him...?” His murmur was rather hushed, as monsters were not the same as modified humans.

For the sake of the boy’s anxiety, the detective brought the tip of his shoe to budge the dealer. The somnolent twitch of his countenance wrought a sense of relief to weigh into the boy’s sigh.

The private investigator offered a high-five for the boy to make. The gesture was slow, as if cautious, but the kid genius managed to reciprocate it. “You did good,” he didn’t know it then, but it was a compliment that Hajime would hold to his heart later.

On taking the transit back to City-Y, the detective opted to intervene the silence. An odd thing for him to do, but it was just them and a few others coming home late.

“So, your parents—” it might have been too sensitive of a subject, but he opted to continue, “—did they uh...” it would have been easy to assume they did die. After all, it was how every hero was sculpted.

Hajime only shook his head, “no,” he said before he retrieved a little Rubik’s cube from his backpack. His fingers fidgeted the slots as his hazel gaze lingered toward the trinket, “I mean, they’re overseas. They send me birthday cards sometimes.”

“Sometimes?” The private investigator couldn’t help but raise a brow at that.

“When they remember.”

Had the private investigator known about Hajime’s profession outside of being a teacher then, he would have been more than happy to demand what the hell was more important than their own kid. Did they know he was handled by suits who depended on currency than their own workers? Even if one of them—two if he counted Badd later—was a child?

Even if he didn’t know it, his furor was quiet enough to make him try to huff out a sigh. His jaw clenched along the curses he would have hissed under his breath when no one was around. Fortunately, Hajime was a quick study.

“What about you?” He must have thought it was a witty comeback, considering how his nose wrinkled a bit, “where’d your parents go?”

“Can’t say I remember,” he knew he had them, but he didn’t know what he did with them. Were they around when he died the first time? Longer? All he could afford to do was wander aimlessly as a phantom without a shell. “Been around since the A.D’s.”

“The A.D.’s??”

As it turned out, Hajime was fascinated with history. The boy’s queries seemed to be rapid fire initially, such as whether or not Shakespeare was a real person (he was), how far has technology gone (far enough), or if the crusades were as brutal as written (it was, but he never had the pleasure in fighting in the wars). The boy’s excitement seemed to tucker him out quickly unfortunately.

Just as the private investigator began to describe what Feudal Japan was like, Hajime nodded off and slumped against the detective’s shoulder. Their stop only prompted him to gingerly scoop the boy up into one arm and carry his—surprisingly dense—backpack with the other. Fortune came in technological wonders, as the lab seemed to unlock its hinges at the presence of their creator’s facial recognition.

The time was late when he finally tucked the boy into bed. Hajime’s backpack slumped against the masonry. There was a strange and phantasmic ache at the base of the detective’s chest, something he hadn’t really felt since he last died.

Prior, he often wondered if it was better to be alone or to try and have a family. He was told he was good with kids by their parents who would hire him to find them. To imagine himself as a father was frightening nowadays, as he could envision that bastard trying to pick up his kids for experimentation.

With Hajime safely in bed, the detective’s thoughts drifted to the newspaper that detailed the triumphs of S-Class Hero Child Emperor against the dreadful turnip monster that interrupted his robotics cla—

...They seriously named the kid “Child Emperor” huh?

The detective contemplated on the transit home just as hard as he was contemplating it back home. His glare lingered toward the shredded up business card. It took every increment of his pride to collect the pieces, but the heroes association weren’t exactly child-friendly.

Did that mean he couldn’t try to do better? For the first time, he felt a sense of balance when handling the dealer. His agency was going to go nowhere and he needed the money, that wasn’t including the fact that Hajime would have ended up, perhaps, the only sensible person there.

he hated being right at times.

He needed to do better, not for the sake of spiting Genus, but to be better for himself.

After he called the intern’s number, he waited until there was a ‘hello?” At the other end of the line.

“Hi,” he says, “I’d like to file a hero application. Do you mind walking me through the process?”

[nothisis-ridiculous]

Take Me Home Now: Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve: In Your Head, In Your Head, They are Dyin'

Set after the events of ME3.

A rewrite. Ao3.

FemShepxKaidan

Geez, open my big fucking mouth much? Oh Jane, could you go to the Citadel? But why shouldn't you? You said you had spent time there; you're the one person who knows how to get around. She half-assedly kicked at the locker at the foot of her cot, besides, Rogers is too green. We need someone with experience leading the team. It would be best if you kept busy; civilian life doesn't agree with you.

They couldn't order her around.

Jane craned her head, taking in the entirety of the beam that would catapult her into the Citadel. A frown was the sole betrayal of her panicked nervous system, she would never be ready to go back there. But this was not the time for fear, not when Biotic's Division looked to her guidance. At least she could hide the apprehension- they looked like they could piss themselves at any moment. Jane knew the beam wouldn't lead to death but they were not so confident. It seemed insane, she got it.

Roy and Helen talked amongst the students, leaving Jane some time to collect herself. The last time she had approached the beam the entirety of Hammer had died to get her here, it seemed too easy now that it was a simple jaunt down a hill.

"You sure this thing won't vaporize us?" Roger's question interrupted her solitude.

"I'm not saying it's going to be pleasant, or you'll like what we're going to find-" distress crossed the 2nd lieutenant's face, this was the wrong approach, "if Anderson's team could make it to activate the Crucible, I think we will be fine. Besides, think of the bragging rights- being the one to restore communications with the Citadel, and eventually with the rest of the galaxy. It's not a small thing."

"But I'm not leading the operation," Rogers's hadn't taken the forced deference to the Recruit well.

"Believe me, kid, you'll be glad for all the calls you didn't have to make." She had refused to lead on principle, even after several others had tried to guilt her for refusing the mission. Jane wouldn't have stepped up if not for a series of harsh conversations from Mr. Alenko, most of them implying he would take the mantle if she would not, "get the team into place, we leave in two."

Roy and Helen naturally separated from the group, not away from the mass of students but toward her. Roy led a step ahead and Helen fixing her with the usual judgmental stare from behind her husband.

"I'll be fine," the woman snapped the M-77 into a ready form, "it should be easy."

"Be careful."

How many times had she heard that? To boot, in the same somber tone. The last time, so physically close to where they stood now. It was an odd irony that his father stood closer to the beam than Kaidan had managed to get.

"Thank you," regret was a hell of a thing, so unprompted she grasped his hand unflinching under that whiskey-hued gaze. For a blip of a moment, she looked forward to coming back. Hope returned in a microdose.

The students lined up as ordered, each reaction as individual as the person who stood before the blue light while they wouldn't argue with the mission: it didn't mean they had to trust it. Jane would question flinging herself blindly into the beam, she had at a couple of points. On Illos, she at least had the Mako to give her the illusion of safety, here for the second time only experience made her undaunted besides the emotional toll.

"Alright, the mission is simple. Meet with Bailey or whoever is left in charge. After that, we worry about setting up the long-range commlink," it was better to put this off as a simple run, when things got complicated, they would deal with it then, "on arrival, where exactly we'll end up is a mystery. This functions much like a Mass Relay, so small groups and make sure your ass is out of the way."

Jane nodded to Rogers and the female that stood beside him, "anyone else want to go first?"

She didn't wait for a reaction before sauntering brazenly into the beam.

The Spectre had thought she was used to running into the unexpected. She had made a career of dealing with the strange, but awe of circumstance truly never went away. This time it was far more physical than expected. Pulling herself over the lip and onto the metal path, water violently expelling from her nose and mouth. If she were a little more with it, she would have pulled a gun on the Keeper scuttling by- but she was a little more focused on breathing. The next concern was the two in line behind her; one was lucky and ended up straddled over the railing the next erupted from the water much in the way she had.

Once it was clear all was fine, Jane rolled onto her back. Dark laughter barking from her diaphragm. It was a far cry from the body-lined hallways and corridors she had dreamed up, the relay monument looked down on her. God, she felt nauseous. Her sides didn't stop seizing until all breath left her body, eyes stinging with tears. Rolling to all fours, then finally upright the world swirled into sudden clarity.

This was the Presidium. Behind her, the partially broken statue that honored the krogan. A white spire jutting into the sky, a brave blue flower standing tall, heat speckled metal walkways, and the white-walled building. Her fingers raked through a tangle of wet hair, shook out her pistol, pulled Rogers from the railing, and tightly squeezed her fist until the twang of her muscles bid for release. The relay fired again, splashing followed, and the approach of footsteps came from her right side. The tepid water running down her face made pinpointing smells impossible, but she could sure taste the strange flavor of the unfiltered liquid.

"Holy shit."

"See, you should have never doubted me."

The Lieutenant did not find it quite so humourous.

"Lighten up, Kid," she remarked blithely, turning her attention to the squad that corralled them into the center of the walkway, "it's nice to see C-Sec arrive promptly."

The turian officer scoffed but lowered his weapon, "Bailey will want to see you."

"Good, we're looking for him."

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

"How is it always you?" Bailey hardly looked up at her, "but I've got to admit, nobody else is crazy enough to walk through a beam on foot."

The man was one of the few who could recognize her immediately, even with grown-out and natural hair. He had seen the scarring left behind after the Lazarus Project before they had faded for the first time. It took only a little imagination to see past the more extensive facial scars.

"The first or second time?"

Bailey's head craned up, concern crossing his face, "Com-"

Jane waved a hand, "please, Bailey, that person is gone. Let her die with her crew."

The concern grew behind the glow of his omnitool "if anyone ever asks, you waved your Spectre status in my face. But I don't think you are here to catch up."

"No, I am not."

The team back on Earth had tried to reconnect with the Citadel, but all attempts to reach them had failed. So a mission to the station became necessary. Bailey attempted to skirt the subject, but life on the Citadel was not easy. Slowly some peace was restored but at a snail's pace. Whatever jammed the comms slowed any hope of a unified force on the station. It also explained their failure to find a tech expert who might fix the issue and perhaps the lack of a Spectre or someone of a higher rank to authorize it—security measures as usual were great until they hindered progress.

"I'll need you before you try and disappear again," Bailey warned, swirling the scotch in his lowball glass. He figured this was special occasion enough, even if the hero returned as little more than a ghost.

"I'll consider it my retirement party," she mused, finishing off the bitter liquid, "seems easy compared to a Reaper invasion."

"Nothing with you is ever simple."

"Hell, this could all be a dream... for both of us." It felt a little cold for a dream, but it was all surreal. For now, she put it off as walking old hallways and the memories of the companions that haunted the place.

"The scotch must be hitting you hard."

"I haven't hit the hard stuff since-" the statement crossed into territory painful for both of them, "but I say there is no time like the present. Must be driving my squad nuts waiting."

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

"Shepard before-"

Jane flinched, and Bailey retracted for a moment. Equal parts confusion and frustration with the jumpy woman. Perhaps it was time, untold horrors of war, or the alcohol that made her weird, if not mentioning the other multitude of reasons the Spectre seemed off her game. She went by a different name to the men she led, and it was becoming apparent the problem was far out of his wheelhouse.

"I have to give it to you plain, we found Anderson's body in here. It looked like he was shot."

"I know."

She had shot him after all. For a long time, she had tried reasoning that it was not her fault; after all, the Illusive Man had made her do it. Those strange cybernetic eyes had stared at her in her dreams, one of the thousands of voices taunting her. Those blue eyes had found her again as she walked the hallways to the Council Chambers.

"He must have activated the Crucible before he died, it's funny because we all assumed you had done it."

Jane hadn't activated the Crucible. That was true. Maybe Mary had; it was all a little foggy.

"We gave him the best funeral we could, I can take you there later if you like," Bailey offered, trying to rouse her with a touch.

Jane shook her head, "another time, this is enough."

Too much.

Bailey nodded, falling behind a few paces so she could absorb the room. Mentally, she remarked on little other than it had become a bit overgrown in disuse and that she liked it better without the constant trickle of running water.

"Nothing unusual up here, Ma'am," buzzed the comm.

"Roger, roger."

"It wasn't funny, even when the Major did it."

Fine, "hold position, I want eyes on anything that could go wrong. I'll place the shunt."

Jane moved slowly across the catwalk, the face staring at her accusingly grew clearer as she approached. The simple frame wreathed in upkept foilage, plants, and candles of all sorts making up an altar. She tried to move through littered petals and papers with reverence, but some wound up disturbed fluttering into the pit below. Jane crouched to cradle the picture gently, "Admiral."

Her blue eyes scanned upwards, resting on the bloody handprint covering the virtual interface sensor.

The total weight of another being crashed onto her, attempting to wrestle her from the catwalk. Even after weeks without combat, Jane dislodged the man with ease throwing him over the unprotected edge. The unnatural steel blue eyes, shocked with bright blue patterns, brimming with fury. Quickly as they had entered her vision, the figure went still and dark.

Coldly, empty, she returned the broken frame to its spot. Her complete attention turning to the console that lit up at her presence. The only break from her attention was the dramatic slam of her fists on the sides of the railing behind the console- it wasn't working.

Before she could release her temper upon the undeserving railing again, a keeper nudged her aside. Compiling the necessary commands with ease, the sudden noise of a system erupting in a blastwave. As quickly as the creature arrived, it scuttled back away. Leaving Jane to complete her task.

Bailey looked over the ledge, approaching the woman slowly once he was satisfied.

"Commander Bailey, you should have access to all Citadel systems," her bright blue eyes turned to him with a terrifying hollowness, "don't make me regret it."

"You- but, he," Bailey swallowed, running a hand over his cropped hair, "it's never simple with you."

He grabbed her arm before she slipped by him, "take this."

"I should go."

"Don't worry, you weren't here," he called after the stumbling figure.

Jane didn't recall stumbling back through the relay, or for that matter, picking her way back to the mall. Or the time she had left, or if she had bothered to warn anyone in the meantime. Reality was a persnickety thing at the moment, failing to anchor her securely to the present.

It was dark, the mechs hadn't stopped her, and not even her body was warning her of exhaustion. It was all instinct.

The room she stole into, that was not so much a call of instinct but of desperation. Her world grew colder, and it was beginning to tumble at a speed that she could barely withstand.

"Rahna."

Nothing.

"Rahna."

"Jane?"

[kihaku-gato]

AVTUALLY do you have a like guide on your OCs? Like quick and dirty who are they, why are they, what’s their universe etc etc. you seen yo have so much on them and how they fit in their world but i never really got a grasp on them and i want to know, well, everything

The quick and dirty… mildly challenging but not impossible, I’ll try to boil it all to bare essentials right here.

The World- Hoep

Not including AUs and Miscellaneous little stories/worlds there’s really only one fleshed out world for a good chunk of my OCs, which are in the “Hoepian universe” aka. the planet known as Hoep.

There’s a lot of details/lore for said world but here’s the short of it;

Fantasy setting, everyone’s a dragon. Almost everyone sticks to their human form cause most peoples’ dragon forms are… too smol. The monsters that caused humans before dragons to go extinct are still trying to do the whole planetwide extinction thing, some peeps try to stop it.

 Terra

Badass aloof athletic. Tournament fighter is her hobby but Mana Tech (or “magic scientist/craftsman” for lack of a better descriptor) is her career choice. Her battle style has a bit of a disciplined martial artist or military style to it. She is of a race of (literally) venomous/poisonous dragons, but does a bit to distance herself from any culture attached to that side of her, due to biological family abuse from an early age (well that and the whole “her father is a murderer and war criminal” detail), right to the point that she uses fire magic rather than poison or venom.

Due to the rough start she was a crybaby as a child, but after being adopted by a travelling fighter tournament champion, she started to make efforts on her own accord to be tougher and more like her adoptive mother. Though her mother did influence her badass aloof persona, I like to believe that Terra herself would’ve put her own pressure on herself to be tougher even w/o that influence.

This and that and she’s a little awkward socially. I’ve headcanoned her as Autistic but its one of those things I go on/off on.

She pays her bills partially through Mana Tech commissions (aka. commissions for enchanted clothes, armor, or weapons) as well as occasionally from the few tournaments she competes in.

 Kayla

Bubbly innocent lowkey powerhouse. Very bouncy and girly, a bit of romantic. She is last of her Clan of Monster Slayers (fyi there were three different Monster Slayer Clans that got wiped out). By instinct she is a good monster slayer to the point she took the job of monster bounty hunter to try to get by in her nomadic wanderings all the while not even training herself much to actually do said jobs.

She’s not really book smart, but definitely is attuned to emotions and intuition.

She holds up a very innocent rambunctious maiden kind of personality around people despite that violent career- it’s not so much as lie as much as it’s just the fact she wants to desperately hold onto her dream to be anything but a warrior. Settling down with a s/o, maybe starting a family, that’s what she would love to one day do so.

A bit of a powerful tank; half of it is all that hefty muscle hidden under the fat, the other half of it is her magical power being huge as well. Hard to beat being able to summon a lightning storm with enough build up.

She grows a crush on Terra when they initially meet. Rose-tinted glasses at the time saw Terra as a knight in shining armor.

  Demauria

Third image I had to include cause FRICK Shiro fanarts of Demauria are fucking gorgeous I die

Ice cold smol angry ball of rage. Despite being the shortest of the main roster, she’s actually slightly older than Kayla (some of it is genetic, but also some of it is that bad nutrition and improper magic usage stunted her body a little bit).

Like Kayla, is the last of her monster slaying clan. If that wasn’t bad enough though, Demauria lost family twice; her Clan, but then also her adoptive family as well (which got slaughtered by monsters). Between that and being raised in isolation (desolate arctic wilderness) she has a really bad time managing her emotions, which tend to then all lead to a response of becoming very angry as her emotions get out of hand. I could very easily see people calling her a tsundere (I even jokingly call her that) but it’s not a perfect label for how she is.

Her use of Ice Magic is both from her Clan and from being taught by her late adoptive father.

The one OC to be stubborn about preferring punk/goth aesthetic and very little else. If she wasn’t dealing with the mess she has to deal with (both in herself and the world itself) I would believe she’d be one to delve into Hoep’s history; both reading and studying the world’s roots.

While I’m not proofreading most of this ramble, upon nearing posting this I realized I should probably also explain wtf is with the pink haired vs the red haired with freckles versions of Demauria; like how Gaara (from Naruto) covers his body in a layer of sand for protection, Demauria does the same but with ice which is what causes the bluer hues and the hidden freckles.

 Riivar

Tall Travelling flirtatious entertainer. She’s ex-royalty from another kingdom (daughter to the King of Kennara). She severed her already rocky connection to her royal roots and took career choice of stage entertainer (a jack of many trades; singing, dancing, magical fire light shows, dramas, she dabbles in whatever she feels like having fun in) and struck huge fame. She’s also just is famous for being great with ladies in bed but shhhhh that’s not important.

In stark contrast to her royal roots she’s chill and very free-spirited and is much about having the freedom to do what you want to do in life.

 Harriet

Airheaded ship captain. Despite not being the smartest (she’s “sea smart” and has a lowkey theatre-kid mind but otherwise-), strongest, or prettiest, she makes up scrappy tomboyish charisma. Even in AUs she tends to attract a bit of a loyal crew that can move almost like an extension of herself.

Due to being the magnetic center of attention she can feel very ruffled/threatened when that attention she soaks in gets yanked away from her by someone else accidentally or otherwise (this is often the origin of a lot of Harriet’s animosity towards Terra both in canon and in AUs).

Like Terra, I lowkey headcanon Harriet to be autistic as well (funny for me, their Autistic creator to be so wishy washy on declaring it canon but that’s just how it is).

She was raised in a big family (lots of brothers), and was taught under the wing of a Retired-crimeboss who leads/directs her town’s Tournament Arena. Said ex-crimeboss trained her in “tournament legal” fighting methods but also taught her how to be illegal/dirty/underhanded methods where it be necessary for survival at sea. Before going to sea in her dream to be a seafaring ship captain she fought up the local tournament to become the tournament Champion to get her mentor’s blessing. Harriet had a random encounter with Riivar near Harriet’s “leaving of the nest” which both awoke Harriet’s adoration for women (“oh shit I’m bi”) and her idolization of Riivar to the point that she clumsily tries to mirror Riivar’s flirtatious mannerisms if she’s trying to woo a lady.

Though she holds herself to be graceful (her ability to ballerina spin for her water-magic attacks would fool anyone to believing that) she has a bit of a fumble-klutz streak in odd moments; the missing tooth in her smile was from tripping headfirst into the ship deck after a successful brawl against a rivaling ship crew at sea where she didn’t even acquire a scratch during said brawl (most AUs find similar ways to cause her to get a lost tooth in her grin).

You’d think her shipcrew would be a band of pirates but that’s mildly off the mark despite the well-matched aesthetic; she does not seek to steal, so she gets her ship’s maintenance paid by a blend of discovered sunken treasure/artifacts (some which she keeps for shiny keepsies) and the odd cargo/trade delivery to various places.

 Anne

Shy gentle beefcake. Same boat as Kayla and Dema in that she is the last of her respective monster slaying Clan (while Kayla was a kid and Dema was a baby when that happened to them, Anne had it happen to her in her tweens). In the fleeing for her destroyed home she eventually ended up in the great deserts where she was adopted by one of the nomadic desert dragon clans. Being lava magic (the magic her bloodclan specialized in) is similar to earth magic she quickly learned of the earth/stone golem techniques from said desert clan. While she’s capable of using lava magic she often uses earth magic first till the lava magic “warms up”. At some point she ran off to try to avenge/reclaim the town of her lost Clan from the monsters and left quite a mark on said monsters (not w/o getting scarred up physically and mentally herself though).

After that encounter rather than delve further on the monsterhunter role or return to the desert clan, she wandered around confusion of what she should do only to somehow end up in Harriet’s crew in a chance encounter. Before meeting Harriet she was getting money by a mix of selling baked pastries and shiny gems/minerals she prospected with her earth magic.

I’m still bouncing around on a lot of her motives and personality (the first conception of her she was a bit of a battle hungry warrior- not anymore, she softer now) but for the moment she’s pretty quiet and shy despite being so big and strong; she’d rather have a calmer life and embrace a more feminine style in how she holds herself, but she too busy having Destiny/Responsibility of being a monster slayer breathing down her neck despite not wanting to involve herself in those things.

 I’m not entirely sure if that’s a good down and dirty of the main OC 6 but I hope it is. I’d mention a lot of my other OCs (Hoepian or otherwise) for their sum ups but most of them are short story characters or support characters at best, or just pretty faces with little personality at worst.

[valhallanrose]

I can’t remember if I’ve posted this art here before but it’s the handy Matilda ref. Bio under the cut because it’s finally done. 

Matilda Everard

Meaning of name: Might (Matilda), Brave Boar (Everard)

Family: Malachi and Marcellus Everard (fathers), Magnolia Everard (elder sister), Mirabelle Everard (younger sister)

Born and raised at the family estate on the edge of the Catclaw Desert, Matilda lived a perfectly normal life as the middle child of a wealthy family. Her father, Malachi, was held in high esteem at a school of magic located in Zadith. Where Malachi focused on magic, Marcellus was an active proponent of science, and the two collided as Zadith’s exploration of both practices began to combine the fields. They bickered at first, but eventually fell in love, and they were married about a year before Magnolia came into the picture. 

While Malachi had been born into money, Marcellus had not, and both had come to an agreement that while their children would want for nothing, they would not be allowed to become spoiled. Each child received the same education as any other common child would, were allowed to pursue their interests, and all three of them in the present day will tell you first of how well they were loved. None of them are oblivious to the wealth that is their inheritance, but their parents had laid down a condition first that to be given their inheritance, they would have to find their own way, first. Money could only last so long, and Malachi and Marcellus both wished that their children would be productive with their lives rather than simply wait for a free ride. 

They did get their wish - Magnolia found a place in Prakra, studying law at the university there, and Mirabelle was on track to become a doctor 

Matilda didn’t necessarily pick such a conventional path, but she was happy. 

She fell in love with dance when she was hardly eight years old, beginning with ballet, but it soon turned into a variety of styles and complexities that made her an accomplished dancer by the time she turned eighteen and finished her schooling. But rather than head off to school...she chose to join a dance troupe instead. 

Her fathers couldn’t say it was unexpected, and as they sent her off with a kiss to her brow, teased her by telling her about how she’d stuff herself in Magnolia’s old tutus and spin so fast she’d make herself sick trying to figure out how the her sister did pirouettes before they finally enrolled her in class herself. 

Matilda traveled with them for a good five years before a combination of a bad sprain to her left ankle and a worsening fracture in her right foot made it necessary for her to take a break to give them time to heal. In the meantime, she spent her days helping mend and create the costumes, finding a sort of meditative calm in piecing them all together even if she couldn’t wear them herself. Even when she healed, she spent as much time as she could helping with the costumes, realizing she’d come to find the same enjoyment behind the scenes as she did on stage. 

She chose to partially retire from dancing two years later when she settled in Vesuvia, opening a clothing shop with all the knowledge she’d gained from her time helping the seamstresses in her troupe. She focused primarily on costumes, but she quickly learned that the Masquerade in particular had a special market to be considered. 

While she still dances on occasion with the Vesuvian Community Theater, you’re more likely to find her hidden away in her shop nowadays - careful if you go in, she will stuff you into one of her creations if she needs a model with your body type. 

Favourite meal: Eggs Benedict

Favourite drink: Mimosas

Favourite flower: Scarlet Pimpernel

Birthday: July 19th

Age: 27

Zodiac: Cancer Sun, Leo Moon, Pisces Rising

MBTI type: ESFP

Patron Arcana: Queen of Wands

Upright: The Queen of Wands is confident in social and professional settings, drawing others into her orbit. Trust in your own vision and drive. You have all the skills to make your dreams reality.

Reversed: The Queen of Wands is stubborn and quick-tempered, easily losing her temper when things don't go her way. Do not let your fire burn those around you with its intensity. Try to take other people's perspectives into account.

Gender: Trans Female 

Orientation: Bisexual

Appearance (What’s not pictured):

Approximately 5’9”, slender build

Prefers to wear looser fitting clothes, often wears dance friendly attire under her day to day clothing

Loves bright colors and patterns, particularly yellows and golds

Languages spoken: Zadithi, Karnassi, and Vesuvian fluently, casual conversational in Hjallen, Prakran, and Nopali

Magical specialties: Illusions, primarily, with some skill in alchemy

Love interests: I’ve used her in Nadia’s and Portia’s routes, but she’s really only incompatible with Muriel I’d say...I just don’t see them meshing well.

[tinlizziedlinwa]

Developing Sexuality, Discovering Kinks, a Spinal Injury, and Barely Beginning to Explore the Edges of the LGBTQ+ Community

Howdy, y’all.  I’m just gonna put this out there - If it’s not for you, just keep on a’scrollin’!

Now, I’ve not really explicitly spoken about my sexuality and how it’s evolved over my almost five decades of life.  So, I’m about to start, and believe me, your patience and kindness will be appreciated.  If you choose to be a close-minded, conservative, cis-asshole then I strongly suggest you leave right the fuck now.  Thank you :-)

If you want to get to know me a little bit more and talk of incontinence and sexuality doesn’t scare you, please continue!

Decade 01:  Around four years old, I have my first memories of things related to my as yet totally undeveloped sexuality.  No history of physical abuse - Don’t worry about that.  It was finding my mother’s menstrual pads.  I saw pictures of them in underwear, so I took one and put it into mine.  It felt so right and so amazing!  I don’t really know how to describe it, but it felt like I needed the whole package of them in my underwear all at once!  I got in trouble for using up a package that my mom needed and I didn’t understand why she needed them yet.  But I made my first “diaper” out of pads and tighty-whities when I was only four years old.  Since I’m gonna be using a lot of numbers, I’m gonna cheat and sacrifice the “proper way” of spelling them out if they’re ten or less.

At 5, I knew I wasn’t built right.  I had this thing I peed through that girls didn’t have.  Boys had them.  But I wasn’t supposed to be a boy!  I didn’t like it and hated the feeling of it touching my legs (still do...).  I started asking questions about things.  Now, my parents are the stereotypical Boomers, “trapped” in a loveless marriage by dependent children and their own sense of “honor.”  Dad was a Medical Corpsman who became a Physician’s Assistant (PA) after retiring, while Mom used to be a Wave (nurse) in the Navy, but became a stay-at-home Mom when she started having children. I’ve 2 brothers and 1 sister, the last of them born 10 years before me.  So, when I questioned things, Dad’s response was usually to hand me a medical book and tell me to look it up.  Mom’s response was usually, “go ask your father.”  So, there I was, a 5-year old with a head full of partially-understood terminology (at best!) and a bunch of clinical photography in anatomy and physiology books.  At least I learned the purely physical differences between boys and girls and why I was one and not the other.  This made me mad.  So. Very. Mad.  I cried a lot for a while, finding out that I would never become what I feel I was supposed to be.  But I kept reading....

When I was 6 years old, I wrote a letter to my parents explaining how I felt about my body and how it made me feel inside and how I wished I could change and be the girl I’m supposed to be and would they be ok with helping me do this some day?

It was not received well.  Not well at all.  I’ve spent the last 40 years trying to get over their reaction to it and I still hate them for their reactions with a passion.  I feel like I was truly shattered, and the glue I’ve had to use over the years to put myself back together has never been the right type and pieces of me keep falling apart.

Entering Decade 02 (10 to 20 years old):  Puberty, damn it!  None of my “researches” had even hinted at ways to stop it, and my body started changing in ways that made me very uncomfortable, but there was also this attraction I kept feeling towards some people, and I started getting erections.  Now, I knew what was happening and yes, it did feel good to play with myself, but it also felt wrong in that I should have someone entering me, not me entering them, so when I masturbated that’s what I dreamed of - being entered and feeling them expand inside me, them giving themselves up in me, losing control and exploding into me and feeling their satisfaction as my own at having been so desirable.  Cockwarming them gently back to hardness and having my own way with their body as their hands stroked my breasts and hips.... Eventually I would orgasm in real life, while dreaming my dream.

I have never had a blow-job.  Several girlfriends have attempted, but honestly that’s like the fastest way to shut me down.  It instantly kills my dream between one heart-beat and the next, causing me to feel absolutely horrible about myself and this carcass I’m trapped in.  I should be going down on you, tasting, caressing, nuzzling and lapping up your wetness as I get more and more achy and wet for you.... Sticking my dick in your mouth is absolutely the worst thing that can happen during any attempt at sexy-times for me.  I’d rather have diarrhea on a crowded school-bus.

The problem was, I had been emotionally terrorized by my parents (and now I know how they controlled my access to information...) and the area I grew up in was populated by fairly conservative folks, so I had no exposure to other ways of living and had no idea I could express my sexuality in any way other than by being masculine with it.  Ergo, I was very much in the closet, hiding my thoughts and feelings as best I knew how, and retreated from situations that might expose my inner workings. Hence, I’m an introvert who overshares o.0  Start unstacking the bricks from my walls and Watch Out!  You might get more than you bargained for :-\

Decade 03 (20 to 30 years old):  I was just positive I didn’t want kids.  Also had no clue what to do with myself, so I landed in Alaska for about a decade.  Isolated, small town, conservative folks (a church on every corner, attended at least twice a week).  Repressive.  No sex for 8 of those 10 years.  Met my (now ex-) wife up there.  Internet actually got off the ground and we bought a computer, modem, and had an AOL account!  This was around 2002′ish or so.  Yeah, I watched the twin towers fall on a tv in a bar in Alaska.  But while in Fairbanks, I discovered the old Usenet Newsgroups... and that led me straight back into my diaper-fetish which I’d almost forgotten about... omg, seeing those first photos... I can’t describe the feelings that burned in me.

Decade 04 (30 to 40 years old):  Left Alaska and moved to western Washington State.  Worked as a Medical Assistant for about 5 years, then re-invented myself as a welder when I got a Federal job.  Learning a whole new trade wasn’t easy.  Shittons of practice later I was good at it and loving my career, until a toolbag fell on my head in 2008.  It could have killed me had I been in any other position.  As it was, it hit the top of my head while my spine was almost perfectly straight up’n’down, causing a couple of discs in my neck to blow out.  One completely ruptured and the other bulged so badly it could never heal and restricted my movement (couldn’t look up or pull my chin in).  To this day I still have a smallish “shadow” on my cervical spinal nerve where the disc exploded and a “dent” where the next one down bulged out.  The doctors think that’s why I’m incontinent and really struggle to get hard-ons anymore.

Here’s the rub:  I’ve hated this body of mine forever.  I’m not supposed to get hard-ons in the first place!  I’m supposed to have breasts, hips, hair, a flat front and a curvy bottom, and you should be making passes at me, not vice versa!

So, rather than pursue medical (surgical) options to deal with the urinary and occasional fecal incontinence, I choose to wear diapers and give myself regular enemas.  This way I can kinda (mostly) control the #2 and keep it from happening in public, while I can let my bladder just run on it’s built-in autopilot (which is really random, btw).  Wearing diapers also helps me with tucking!  I can  pull the dick out, pop the balls up inside where they belong, tuck the dick as far back as I can and put my diaper on tight.  Bingo!  A flat front!  And a bit of a poofy bottom!  YES!!

Decade 05 (40 to 47′ish years old):  I’m beginning to feel slightly more confident in my sexuality, though I’m still not comfortable actually trying to seek out anyone special... but yeah - I’m an introvert by nature.  Probably need to get adopted by someone because I’m not sure I’ll ever really be brave enough to really reach out first....  But now I’m able to afford nice diapers, I’m buying women’s jeans/pants/sweaters/onesies, and I’m feeling so much better about myself when I’m able to dress up.  Keeping my chest and legs shaved helps, too.  When I look down and see long, course, curly body-hair... ugh.  Hair in the armpits and groin is what’s normal.  Chest hair?  Get it off!  Looking at myself in the mirror, I still hate many aspects of my physical self, but when I’m freshly shaved, diapered and wearing women’s jeans and a lovely pink sweatshirt or just lounging around in a cute diaper and huge sweater, I’m much more able to ignore the things I don’t like.

Lately, as I’ve begun exploring my sexuality a little more, I’ve discovered the joys of dildos.  Lemmie tell you what, guys.  A traditional male orgasm doesn’t hold a candle to what I’ve felt while playing with a good dildo.  After a good, thorough clean-out in the shower (I have a shower-attachment with multiple nozzles and use the long black rubber one), I’ve used a dildo that’s got a bit of a bend near the tip - it’s shaped like a real penis, normal size (not humongous), with a bit of a crook near the glans.  By holding the balls & suction cup in hand, it can be inserted and moved in-n-out at that perfect angle to stimulate *all* the right spots inside...  I can honestly say I’ve peed, cum, and blew that dildo across the room as my knees hit the floor and I forgot my name during the best, most intense, can’t-walk-for-a-minute whole-body orgasms I’ve ever experienced in my life.  The area between the anus and scrotum feels so very hot and heavy, like it’s going to burst, it’s not truly painful but almost close? - It’s an amazingly satisfying feeling.  I’d love to hear from you girls out there... Are my orgasms anything similar to yours?

Some day, my dream is to meet someone who can understand me, who can feel where I’m coming from, who can love me even when I’m having difficulty loving myself.  Someone who is kind to my broken soul, and who’s idea of a hot date may involve a stop at the adult toy store!

Edited on 01OCT2021:  I’m not looking for a Mommy or a Domme.  I’m an adult with adult responsibilities and concerns.  I’m looking for a partner who’s also fairly self-sufficient.  I own my own home, work full time, and being an introvert I need lots of alone time.  Someone who’s open and accepting of the fact that I’m diapered 24/7/365 and am perfectly capable of changing myself.  And she’ll understand that I don’t just wanna get her out of her jeans for sexy-times, but I also wanna try them on.

Edited again on 02OCT2021:  As I’ve just begun actually  exploring my sexuality, I’m starting to think I seem to fit into the “enby” grouping (even as I don’t like being stuffed into a box, I find myself doing just that, to myself!  Damn categories...).  I don’t know all the lingo yet and it feels like the terminology is a living thing that is always changing.  Even though I’ve always found women to be super attractive, and I also really enjoy wearing women’s clothes and have dreamed of being a woman for decades, every once in a blue moon a guy really turns me on.  I’ve got fantasies about going down on her while he enters me, his hands on my hips pulling me in as he gently thrusts, speeding up slowly as I’m getting wetter, he’s sliding in and out of me faster and faster and I’m lapping up her juices, buried in her scent, the orgasm in all of us building until we simultaneously explode.  Then, once we all have our breath back, each of us gently diapers one another.  The idea of feeling my diaper sticking to my bum as his seed dribbles out of me is really turning me on again right now!  Hearing our crinkles as we move, cuddling in a contented pile, patting bottoms all around.

Am I a “bottom?”  Is there such a thing as an independent “bottom”?  More research is needed!