#thank you op for that GOLD

[crnl-chicken-tots]

Jack Horner, aka what Lewis could have been in a lifetime

Funniest shit at 3am dawg, and that's that.

3am is for the real doodles, please don't expect quality content because you wont get it lmao

[lord-squiggletits]

What do you think is Tarn's favorite part of being ordered to do something? That he's worth something/seen as valuable or the idea of the reward at the end? Or something else entirely?

Probably closer to your first theory: my first instinct is that Tarn seems to derive a lot of his self-worth and purpose in life from an attachment to others/an ideology (see: his whole thing with Megatron), although I honestly doubt he was like that before Megatron fucked him up with brainwashing. Being ordered to do something = being needed, and being needed = having value and a reason for living.

It also seems to me that, even as Damus, Tarn has a bit of a rash/emotional/passionate streak: very much the type to fix an ideology/set of instructions upon himself, then charge forward with a sense of purpose. If we look at Damus getting irritated at Orion for "just sitting around and waiting for the Senate soldiers to show up," it seems this guy really wanted to ACT and DO, perhaps to the point of slight recklessness/thoughtlessness. As if he equated active "doing" with productivity and "having a plan" and taking initiative, but thought of waiting as a form of weakness/giving up/not being prepared. (Ties in rather neatly with his tendency for organization maybe... weird how he's simultaneously reckless with his individual actions but also needs a sense of Order And Hierarchy to feel fulfilled on a general life level.)

So I think Tarn also gets enjoyment from following orders bc eh... I'm genuinely not trying to make this a petplay thing 🤣but I'd say that maybe he gets a sense of comfort/security from being able to just charge forward and act, no need to worry about morality or questioning his own motives. Just outsource his thinking to someone else beloved, trusting, and all-wise (Megatron) so he can experience the pure bliss of fanaticism and utter self-righteousness/confidence in his own actions. He even admits to Deathsaurus that he let himself conflate Megatron with the Decepticon ideology when instead Decepticonism is based on a dream, an idea.

So on that note, it also seems to me that Tarn might like following orders specifically bc he feels a personal connection to Megatron? Megatron groomed him as a protege/his most dedicated and fanatical follower. Their conversation on Necroworld shows that Tarn quite obviously thinks the world of Megatron and wants to see him as that figure of legendary competence/willpower. I don't think Tarn just wants to have The Right Ideology so that he can Feel Good About Being A Good Person (TM); it seems like Tarn specifically wants* to have a personal connection, some sense of approval or specialness, a bond with some authority figure who not only assures that he can trust them, but that they also trust him utterly. I think it says a lot that Tarn was even able to fall in love (figuratively) with Megatron more than he was with Decepticon ideology itself. It points to the fact that what he's really missing is interpersonal connections. Er, as much as an incredibly toxic and manipulative parasocial relationship is an interpersonal connection, but I never said that it was a good connection.

*In light of recent panels of Damus I reviewed from a Tarn/Damus post I reblogged last night, Damus seemed to actually be quite comfortable challenging/questioning Orion to his face and wanting to know what their plan is and why. I think it says a lot that Damus' relationship with Orion was one between a leader and a soldier, yes, but it was also informal and non-hierarchical enough that Damus felt completely free to question Orion. When you contrast this with Tarn talking to Megatron ~4 million years later, he's suddenly switched to an attitude of absolutely worshipping Megatron and believing he has utterly absurd/impossible levels of ability, vision, confidence, willpower, etc. Seems to me like part of Megatron's brainwashing of Damus was specifically centered on wrapping his heart around his little finger for the purpose of cultivating that blind obedience. Given Megatron's thoughts at the end of his Spotlight issue (he refers to his soldiers basically as blind idiots who can be whipped into a furor with the right propaganda lines), this is a pretty common emotional manipulation tactic he used in general. It just seems like Megatron concentrated this manipulation by singling out Damus and making him feel special, that he saw himself in Damus, and that he truly cared about him and wanted him as a student. You know, an emotional connection.

Honestly, this is kinda dark tho, bc now I'm kind of sad and thinking that Tarn doesn't naturally have this level of codependence/slave-like devotion to a person and it was actually just something Megatron shaped him into as a leash of sorts... Damn, I can be horny about people sublimating their trauma/emotional issues through kink, but not in a guilt-free "haha he's a dog" way. 😔 JK I'll still call Tarn a dog (affectionate) bc it's just so true.

[broncoburro]

It’s D’Angelo! A  fact I’m sure surprises nobody.

IT’S PROBABLY not socially acceptable to pat another soldier. But he has never understood the concept of a “personal bubble” to begin with and hey, he’s an open guy! He’ll allow himself to be pet like a gigantic puppy. 

Maybe its nice... maybe it’s hard to give yourself a good scratch with all that thick Northerner fur... maybe his tail is wagging. You don’t know.

[tathrin]

I just need you to know your tags on that post about Boba Fett made me realize HOW MUCH of Legends-era Boba Fett I didn't know about and now it is my goal to hunt every book and story down because dear gods he's even more amazing than I realized

Ahhhh omg yes he's the best and worst in all the best ways. Thank you for giving me another excuse to talk about him!

Okay so start with the Twin Engines of Destruction comic by Andy Mangels and John Naedeau, that is THE epitome of Boba Fett. (#he had no face just the helmet that WAS his face #he canonically gives money from successful jobs to orphanages WHAT #when he found out someone was impersonating him AND BOTCHING JOBS he set that fucker up SO GOOD #he literally took the man apart physically spiritually and emotionally and left him paralyzed staring at his own about-to-explode jetpack #and put the antidote to the neurotoxin in front of him said ''you may survive if you have the will to move...like i would'' and WALKED AWAY) Genuinely just...this is it, this is him, this is everything anyone ever needs to know about how to write Boba Fett.

After that I'll recommend moving onto the Boba Fett: Death, Lies, and Treachery comics (consisting of "Bounty on Bar Kooda," "When the Fat Lady Swings," and "Murder Most Foul") by John Wagner and Cam Kennedy (probably my favorite Fett comic artist; their style is wonky yes but it fits so well!). Boba Fett: Agent of Doom is another one drawn by Kennedy that is excellent, although it's written by John Ostrander (who did the best Clone Wars comics btw) instead of Wagner. Also I personally like to headcanon the last one actually being about Ailyn Vel, but that's neither here nor there. Your best bet to find these is probably the Star Wars Legends — Epic Collection: The New Republic vol 7 tpb but Marvel is shit about keeping their SW comics in print, so good luck.

Also definitely worth reading are K.W. Jeter's Bounty Hunter Wars trilogy of novels (#he surgically removed his olfactory pleasure sensors so he wouldn't be affected by space pollen shit  #he'd drop an entire mine on top of himself to get his mark if he had to and then just dig his way back out #he once used the dying body of the closest thing he had to a friend as a laser canon to kill some tin-can hutts  #he had his fucking SKIN DISSOLVED and still sat up to shoot a bitch #he walked onto an exploding star destroyer just to have a conversation AND THEN FLEW IT RIGHT BACK OUT AGAIN) but I will say that the quality of them varies wildly between different sections...but it's one of those "even the bad parts are good, despite being terrible" books, if you know what I mean!

No Disintegrations, Please! is a short-story from the Tales of the New Republic collection, and that's the one that features Fett walking through an Imperial Garrison to get his mark that I was thinking of when I made the post (although it seems that tag didn't save? or I just can't find it again amidst all the unhinged shrieking of the rest of them lol) although he also took on a garrison in one of the comics and in another comic he went through a wrecked Star Destroyer full of murder-droids and TIE patrols so like...not an out-of-the-ordinary endeavor for him lol.

Payback: The Tale of Dengar, also from one of the short-story collections, in this case Tales of the Bounty Hunters, is where Dengar gets Fett to be his best man, although alas the wedding itself is never depicted anywhere, at least not that I've seen. (Although if you'll permit an extremely immodest self-rec, I did write about it once in a fic...) My favorite moment in this story, though, is when Boba Fett pulls a straw out to drink without removing his helmet. Too bad no one apparently ever mentioned that features to Din Djarin; would have made his life considerably easier. And yes, I was the person shouting "use a straw you idiot!" at the screen several times, to the vast amusement of those watching with me.

And of course, Susejo a.k.a. the Sarlacc mentioned in the original post is from A Barve Like That: The Tale of Boba Fett from the short-story collection "Tales From Jabba's Palace."

For new stuff that still feels like classic Fett, Age of Rebellion: Boba Fett by Greg Pak and Bria LaVorgna is really the only thing that comes to mind, but it's quite a lovely little one-shot.

*If you have trouble finding Twin Engines of Destruction let me know. I have the whole thing saved on my computer because I love it so much, although I will say that the digital format/coloring does it no favors.

[dirt-str1der]

Gold is non magnetic, but cheap jewelry is often gold plated over mystery metal that very well could be magnetic

Sorry to just pop in like this but this is why glass retainers are pretty much insisted upon if you need something like an MRI and you have piercings

Going in the mri after swallowing a cup full of pennies a— wow sorry pennies. Lol pennies .... peenis

[mythology-void]

GOD FINALLY SOMEBODY SAID IT

don't get me wrong, high fantasy stuff is very awesome and cool to explore in a film context and if im watching lord of the rings i am a monarchist for 682 minutes, but it's just a little silly to me how even with LOTR as the baseboard for basically every high fantasy book ever, so so many people are ignoring that very clear main point and even going so far as to say that high fantasy can only ever be centered around kings and queens and monarchs.

like. obviously inheirted power dynamics between rich people in the 1600s is very cool and a valid thing to want to explore, but it's genuinely so much cooler to explore the flaws of a autocratic system through the eyes of one of its subjects, especially one who's been disproportionately affected by the mistakes of the monarchy. watching THOSE people interact with the system that hurt them (even if the leaders thought they were making good choices!) is SO much jucier than a bunch of rich white people poking each other with long sticks for 3 1/2 hours

You know, it's kinda funny how much of high fantasy centers around kings and nobility and courtly intrigue considering that the archetypal high fantasy, Lord of the Rings, had the rather explicit moral of "saving the world is up to this backwater hick and his gardener because no politician, least of all inherited nobility, would have the ability to see past their own ambition and throw away a weapon". Oh sure, Aragorn is a great king and all, but there's a reason he's over there running a distraction ring while the hobbits do the real work. Sauron loses because he gets distracted by kings and armies and great battles (i.e. typical high fantasy stuff) letting Frodo and Sam sneak through his back door and blow it all to hell.

Just saying, maybe old Jirt knew what he was saying when he said that the small folk doing their best and holding to each other was more powerful than a dozen alliances and superweapons and we should respect him for it.

[ayyyyysexual]

Tumblr on the Seven Seas

🏴‍☠️ white-beard Follow

Can we stop all normalising the use of "sc*rvy" as a fun little thing to call people?? I literally had sc*rvy last year and it was even worse than when I got my hand cut off. Fuck anyone who uses the S word without even considering how triggering it can be to those of us who have ACTUALLY suffered though it

🌅 castedaway Follow

No wenches?

🏴‍☠️ white-beard Follow

Honestly you people are so insufferable I genuinely hope you walk the plank

🌅 castedaway Follow

AHOY???

🍑 plundermebooty Follow

Okay but OP is literally a landlubber, mateys

🌴 pegmeg

nahhh why is it literally always landlubbers faking scurvy and sending plank threats ☠☠

768 notes

🗡wagscallion Follow

everyone says "land ho!" but never "land ma'am"

💨 matelotsaboteur

Really makes you think

2,041 notes

💃 crossdressing101 Follow

this whole crew was so gullible ngl, i just cut my hair and dressed in my fathers clothes and they all fell for it, hook line and sinker??

💃 crossdressing101 Follow

honestly im surprised no one has found me out yet. surely i dont seem that much like a man? i mean it makes this way easier but like. im still a woman. obviously

🕺 crossdressing101 Follow

mateys i have come to a shocking realisation,

34 notes

⛵ privatesteer Follow

wildest argument for piracy i've ever heard was that the gold stored on government ships is dangerous cause it weighs them down, so they're just 'lightening the load'

🧜‍♀️ kiss-pretty-ocean324 Follow

աaռռa ʟɨֆȶɛռ ȶօ ֆɨʀɛռ ֆօռɢ?

⛵ privatesteer Follow

no thanks

🕶 monstermaterdeactivated16520210

outta my way gayboy im boutta get it

🕶 monstermaterdeactivated16520210

i have drowned at sea

36,251 notes

⚓ shiveringtimbers Follow

14,811 notes

🌏 boat-enthusiast Follow

i am SO sick of the term "ship-shape" like, matey, which shape?? Ships come in so many fucking shapes like have non of you ever boarded more than one vessel in your career???? Anyway fake ship fans DNI with this post i can NOT be bothered with your tomfuckery today

💦 longjohngolder Follow

girl its not that deep ☠

🌏 boat-enthusiast Follow

to YOU. i just get it

1,147 notes

🙍‍♂️ dudeindistress Follow

honestly being held for ransom isnt that bad. kinda nice to be held

4,733 notes

🦜 pollypockets Follow

SQUAWK

🐦 aviated Follow

CAW SQUAWK SQUAWK

🦜 pollypockets Follow

CA-CAW

790 notes

🍑 plundermebooty Follow

the cabin boy just winked at me?? after offering to help clean my gun? privately. in my quarters. tonight.

🍑 plundermebooty Follow

i think i hauve scurvy

142 notes

🌊 swabmydick Follow

mateys I SWEARR my captain and his first mate are gonna kiss before our next voyage. they literally have so much romantic tension every time i see them its nauseating

🕶 longjohngolderdeactivated16511205

wtf its so problematic and harmful to ship real people?? unfollowing rn i thought you were better than this

🌊 swabmydick Follow

i literally rob and kill people for a living?????? that's where you draw the line???

🌴 pegmeg

op killed them

🌊 swabmydick Follow

even better news mateys, they kissed ☠☠☠

96,538 notes

[artsicfox]

"wait I lost the fight... But this is getting fun!"

Thanks to everyone who's liked and supported this piece so far!!!

As some of you may know a while back I did a kickstarter to get this illustration printed with gold foil! And that project got Fully Funded💗!

So from now on this piece is also Available for purchase on my Webstore!!!!🔽🔽🔽

[penkura]

OP Men as Dads Part 3

Note: Part 3, Part 3!! I was asked by someone on AO3 to add Luffy, so I did that! I still view Luffy more as a brother or son, so I still don't expect to write anything romantic for him, but this I can do! I hope you all enjoy!

Franky probably didn’t even think he’d ever get the chance to have kids, not after the train accident you know, but he’s excited for it! You’d have two boys around three to four years apart that are just like Franky in every way, but the older would be a bit more shy than the younger. They’ll both spend a lot of time with Franky in his workshop when they get old enough, they’ve got a knack for shipwright work and it almost brings a tear to Franky’s eye to see them sketching their own ship designs on whatever scraps of paper they can find. Your boys love you too of course! The two will bring their drawings to show you and ask your opinion, you have to tell them everything on your mind or they won’t go back to drawing, mama’s thoughts matter! It becomes family time to go over the sketches your boys made during the day, they want to do you and Franky proud in everything, but nothing they do could ever make you love them less.

~~

Katakuri has planned to have kids for a while, even though he’s already 48, he still wants to have a few and be a father to them. He’ll raise them differently from how he was raised, but still love them dearly and want only the best for them! You’ll both be surprised when you only have one first, a little girl who has Katakuri wrapped around her finger as soon as she’s born and handed to him. She’s so tiny, he’d be content to have just her if she’s all you were blessed with. Fast forward five years and there’s a set of wailing triplets that you also didn’t expect to have, but the three boys are more than you ever could’ve asked for and their big sister loves them just as quickly. She begs to see them as soon as their born, Katakuri brings her by that day to see you and them, and she has to gold all three in a row immediately. After that, a set of twin girls comes along a few years later, your oldest isn’t the only girl anymore and she’s still just as happy to have new siblings at around ten-years-old, your five-year-old set of triplets also excited. Katakuri loves and thanks you so much for the family you’ve made with him, even if you tell him your twin girls are it, you’re done. He's happy with what you have, grateful for your love and children.

~~

Killer is absolutely a great dad, you couldn’t have asked for anyone better to be your partner and father to your children. You have a boy first off, with your eyes and blond hair, he wants to be just like his dad when he grows up! A couple years later comes a little girl, she’s a surprise but a pleasant one at that. You didn’t really expect her to have Killer wrapped around her finger in a heartbeat but the second he saw her it was over, he became wholly devoted to your little girl and making sure she was happy as could be. You’ve come back to your family multiple times seeing Killer either having a tea party with your daughter or playing some make believe game with both your children, he normally plays the damsel in distress for their enjoyment. Your kids can see people act oddly around Killer when they recognize him, but neither of them care to know why, they’re still quite young, and they only care that they’re dad loves and takes care of them alongside you. All that matters to them is that Killer is around to play with them and eventually start teaching them to protect themselves.

~~

Luffy would be the fun dad, no doubt in my mind! Like how Ace would have three daughters, I can see Luffy having three sons! Probably twins at first, then another son a couple years later, the three having the same dynamic that he had with Sabo and Ace when they were kids! They’d all look like Luffy, except your middle child would have your eyes, a small piece that shows yes, you’re the mother to these three rugrats. All three dream of being pirates, its their favorite game to plan, especially so since their dad is King of the Pirates. After all, who better to tell you how the pirate life works than him?? With all of the Straw Hats around, your sons would be protect from the moment they hear you’re pregnant, everyone being the best aunts and uncles around as soon as they’re born. Luffy would be the most protective of course, but he’d still give your sons the freedom to do what they want and to grow and learn how the world works. Being a pirate is about freedom, isn’t it? Your sons will never have to wonder if they’re loved or wanted, everything you and Luffy do is for them.

~~

I honestly see Mihawk with one child, a daughter. She’d be an unexpected blessing that has him around her tiny finger the moment she takes her first breath. He’d never let her, or you of course, out of his sight, unless he absolutely had to go to a Warlord meeting or something like that. When Zoro and Perona show up, they’re both flabbergasted that the Dracule Mihawk has a child, and that she’s a cute baby girl, only a few months old! Perona will try to dress her up in frilly dresses but your daughter will cry, which ends with Mihawk taking her back and demanding Perona stop using his daughter like a dress up doll. The funny thing is, your daughter will be absolutely enthralled with Zoro, she’ll fuss until he holds her, sometimes he’s the only one who can get her down for a nap or to sleep at night. The number of times Mihawk has caught Zoro training with your daughter strapped to his back or the two napping together warms his heart, maybe having the two freeloaders around isn’t so bad.

~~

Sabo never thought too much about having kids. It was a nice idea, but he didn’t have any strong opinions about it. Then of course, you showed up and he started to have dreamy ideas of his own family and children with you as the mother. Your first is a little girl, blonde as her dad and just as rambunctious. She’ll chase down everyone that she can’t to play with her and grab their attention for whatever story she’s made up, Sabo especially listens intently to her, giving her a smile, asking questions, and responding to everything she says positively. After your daughter comes two boys, one after the other just a couple years apart, and both times Sabo can’t believe he’s so lucky to have you and your children. Your sons look more like you, though your youngest has Sabo’s hair just like your daughter. He’s more shy than either of his siblings, but with Sabo he’s more open and talkative. Your first son may be the middle child, but he’s also the one who becomes more interested in the Revolutionary Army’s work. Although Sabo knows that all of them may become interested one day, wanting to join, he hopes that their work can be completed first and your children will be able to love safe, comfortable lives as they grow up.

[hotshot95]

Ok. This is now officially canon to any Batfic I write.

tim: dad... I have a boyfriend

bruce: what? but you're supposed to get back together with stephanie

tim: what?

dick: whoa whoa whoa, I thought you were an ally

bruce: I'm not being homophobic I just need steph to marry into the family

cass: I have something to share

[jeyneofpoole]

asoiaf dash simulator again

🌼 night-of-flowerz-girl

the blatant misinformation on this waebsyte is crazyyyy. guys. loras tyrell is NOT DEAD that is literally lannister propaganda 😭 please check your sources omg how do you think his family feels???

🛡️ fieldmaiden

margaery tyrell can dry her tears on the finest cloth of gold for all i care have we not established that the tyrells are smallfolk panderers who only talk about serf issues to keep us placated and working their fields? stand UP. anyways tyrelloverparty forever hope the burns hurt 🙏

🍃 greenseeeerr

omfg stop lusting after the children of the forest they are literally minor coded 😭😭😭 what is wrong with you people!!!!!

💄 andalsandal

hey op what the fuck does this mean

🐻 moremont

me and my big hairy bear husband have three beautiful daughters and i couldn’t be happier

🐻 moremont

THE ANIMAL.

⚡️dondarriugh

omfg beric is DEAD??????

⚡️ dondarriugh

ok there are some conflicting reports in my inbox hold on

⚡️ dondarriugh

oh no he’s actually dead. fly high king!!!!!

⚡️ dondarriugh

wait what????

⚡️ dondarriugh

WHAT IS HAPPENING

⛳️ brotherhood-without-banners-official

Lord Dondarrion is hale and hearty, thanks be to the Lord of Light ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

⚡️ dondarriugh

HELLO??????

🛖 small-folk-big-ass

save me bowl of brown…… bowl of brown…… bowl of brown save me…….

🛖 small-folk-big-ass

hopital

🐉 rhaeeenyraaa

the revisionist history on here is fucking insaneeeee. cersei lannister is NOT maegor come again guys let’s use our critical thinking skills ok?????

🚬 sourleef

cersei lannister is a nepo baby who dicks down her twin brother on the regular and squeezes out evil kids with weak jawlines like it’s a sport. let’s not act like she’s some kind of win for wench suffrage she’s a fucking dictatorial monarch

🍁 weirdwood

wait don’t you mean her twin brother is dicking her down?????

🚬 sourleef

i know what i said.

🐕 ramsay-bitch-imagines

IMAGINE…

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

You’re Ramsay’s favorite dog, and he wants to reward you after a successful hunt.

WARNING: DEAD DRAGON DO NOT EAT!!!!!DON’T LIKE, DON’T READ!!!!

Read More

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

🐋 s4ltw1fe

who’s going to tell lady asha that she doesn’t have to date those foppish little boys as community service. don’t worry queen EYE see your caerybaenor……

👤 reynesofcastamere-deactivated-3738372920

lmao that blonde little cuck is NOT getting his gold back

👤 tarbeckhall-deactivated-4748392038383

we should hook up for rebellion lol. what’s he even gonna do about it?

🦁 hear-me-roar

hey guys.

🧼 barmaid

oh my god this is THE post

🍺 pintofale

holy shit i never thought i’d see this outside of illuminated vellum screenshots

🪡 tall-tailor

this post is a fucking graveyard

[vigilskeep]

hello! you know a lot of dragon age lore so i thought id ask you— i saw a post earlier that was discouraging to me aa trans person where the op said that veilguard having top surgery scars in the cc goes against established worldbuilding. does it make sense for top surgery to be possible in thedas? thanks

my rule of thumb is that in a world where healing spells exist, there’s absolutely no logical, believable reason for it not to be possible. you don’t have to go back and provide sources about historical surgeries—which is something i personally know nothing about—for this to be true

like, i just can’t take this line of thought seriously. ohhh we can have floating cities and magical neon lights and spirit healers who can mend injuries just by passively standing next to you, but we draw the line as soon as it’s something that would make our trans players happy! it’s so transparent. do not listen to these people or let them discourage you

if you want to get into the worldbuilding potential of it—which is just fun to do—we can probably guess that for the top surgery scars to be as neat as they seem to look in the veilguard character creator, similar to modern ones, magical healing was involved. now i do believe that the chantry might get suspicious of body-altering magic, that magical power is hoarded by the circles in the south and the wealthy in the north, and also that “out” trans people are a minority in thedas. so i’m not saying that this is something easy for your average guy to get hold of. that’s where you can feed it into backstory. are they powerful and connected enough that they could find specialists willing to go beyond the ordinary? or do they have underground connections to hidden apostate healers, whose only priority is what helps (or perhaps just how much you’re willing to pay)? do they belong to a culture that might not be restricted by the chantry’s norms about gender or magic, like the dalish or the rivaini? or do they belong to a mage-focused community or order, who among themselves do whatever they like? endless options

some might be referring to a line in dai from krem, a trans man, where you can ask him about potentially changing his body with magic and he essentially says he wouldn’t let magic that could do that anywhere near his body, though when he was younger he might have dreamed about the possibilities. firstly, krem is absolutely not the gold standard for trans representation and nobody should care about being flexible from what bioware put out a decade ago. secondly, krem is a random mercenary who knows one (1) mage, who spends the entire time insisting she’s not a mage. i very much doubt he’s the no. 1 source for what might be magically possible in this or any regard

also ultimately, and i cannot express this enough, you can do whatever you want forever. it could be absolutely fundamentally impossible in-world somehow and it would still not be that serious to be “unrealistic” in the dragon video games. don’t let anyone discourage you from making the character you want to make. it being an option makes it canonically part of thedas, end of. they put it in the game and nobody bitching about it can take it out

[theriu]

I am DYING, this is SO FREAKING FUNNY 🤣🤣🤣

Selected Excerpts From The Fire Nation Royal Palace Servants' (Unofficial) Handbook

Or: Revisions To Normal Protocol After The Ascension Of Agni's Exalted Flame, The Dragon Of The Sun, et cetera, Fire Lord Zuko

1. Agni's Exalted Flame, The Dragon Of The Sun, et cetera, Fire Lord Zuko should not be referred to by his full titles and styles, no matter the context. This appears to annoy him. "Fire Lord Zuko" and "Lord Zuko" are acceptable, as well as "your majesty" and "my Lord".

1.1 "Lord Hotman", however, is unacceptable.

1.2. Even if the Avatar specifically requests you to address Fire Lord Zuko as that.

1.3. In fact, any attempts by the Avatar, the Lady Beifong, the honorable Tribesman Sokka or even Master Katara to get you to address Fire Lord Zuko by anything other than his proper title should be disregarded.

1.4. Referring to Ozai of the Fire Nation (titles rmvd, dishon.) as "The Loser Lord", however, is acceptable.

2. Fire Lord Zuko is aware of the concept of mortality, but does not seem to understand how it relates to His Majesty. Following activities should be discouraged: Free climbing, glider usage, contact with exotic animals larger than a turtleduck (or smaller, if the animal is known to be venomous), amateur theatre productions, cooking, sailing, spelunking, botany, please see full list in the Matron's office.

2.1. It should be noted that His Majesty's belief that mortality does not apply to him does not appear to be completely unfounded. After several "close calls", it has been decided that upon his demise, Fire Lord Zuko should lie in state for at least two weeks.

2.1.1. We do not want another incident.

3. The turtleducks in the Western Pond do not need to be fed by the servants any more.

3.1. However, the turtleducks should be rotated out at regular intervals in order to prevent overfeeding.

4. At any official social functions, at least three servants should be vigilant in case His Majesty tries to tell a joke.

4.1. It should be noted that there is no concern for His Majesty's jokes being offensive, crass or otherwise contrary to good taste. They are simply very bad. His Majesty always ends up embarrassed.

5. Any children left unattended in the Royal Palace for more than 15 degrees can be retrieved from the Fire Lord's office.

6. Should His Majesty go missing, the following places should be searched: roofs and any high places, cellars and secret passages, the fur of the Avatar's sky bison (which is surprisingly deep), and every place that an ordinary five-year-old would think to hide in during a game of "Hide and Explode."

6.1. All of the Imperial Firebenders as well as any soldier who wears a mask during the course of their duties should be questioned.

6.1.1. Important note: Some of the soldiers who are especially close to His Majesty can perform a passable imitation of him. Efforts should be made to prevent an uneducated soldier from, say, conducting a meeting with the Minister of Agriculture.

6.2. After the recent incident, that list is expanded to include the Kyoshi Warriors and any other groups that might wear concealing full face paint.

6.3. If all of these measures prove ineffective, a letter should be sent to The Dragon of the West, Prince Iroh, asking His Highness to return His Majesty.

6.4. If a ransom note is delivered, it should be immediately checked against the handwriting samples from the honorable Tribesman Sokka as well as Avatar Aang, before any other actions are taken.

6.4.1. Replying "Good luck, he's your problem now" to a ransom note is absolutely unacceptable.

6.4.1.1. To further drive home the point, the Royal Archives are required by law to preserve every single piece of royal correspondence. That thing will end up in a museum.

This handbook will be updated should it prove necessary.

[lycandrophile]

Songs sung in T voices? You mean just regular male voices because trans men are men

imagine being so miserable that you see a post about trans joy and pride in transmasculinity and the first thing you think is “i’m going to find a way to see this as transphobia instead”.

i have a t voice. my voice is distinctly different from most cis men’s voices in a way that a lot of other trans people’s voices are distinctly different after being on t. a lot of us have voices with a unique quality to them. the claim that me, a trans man with a t voice, talking about voices like mine somehow implies that my own gender isn’t real…is just fucking wild, honestly.

i think t voices are BEAUTIFUL. i love them so much, having my own voice sound like that was genuinely one of the things i was the most excited about when i started t because to me, that voice is the kind i heard when i watched videos made by other trans guys that taught me about what was possible for me and met other trans guys irl for the first time and got advice on transitioning or just life from them. it’s such a comforting sound and so important to me.

nothing about recognizing that distinctive quality implies that trans men aren’t real men. i have a t voice just like i have a deep voice, a quiet voice, a tonally expressive voice — it’s just a descriptor for one of many things that can make a voice unique. my voice is a “male voice” and it’s also a t voice because i’m a man whose voice has been affected by going on t in a distinctive way. the two aren’t in any way at odds with each other.

if i described my chest as a post-op chest, would you come into my inbox saying “you mean just a regular male chest?” i have a feeling you probably wouldn’t because on some level, even you get that talking about unique parts of living in a trans body doesn’t invalidate who we are. it’s fine if you personally wouldn’t want to describe your voice that way because it makes you dysphoric or isn’t applicable to your voice or isn’t as meaningful to you, but that doesn’t mean it’s morally incorrect for me to do so.

trans bodies are wonderful. visible (or in this case, audible) transness is wonderful. it’s not a bad thing to have features that are distinctively trans, and having those features doesn’t make you less of a man. we don’t have to reject our transness or be exactly like cis men to be real men because cis manhood isn’t the gold standard, it’s just one of many ways to be a man.

(also, not everyone who goes on t is a trans man, so not every t voice is a male voice. it’s funny how the people who get mad at me for being proud of my t voice are always the same ones who have really gender essentialist and binaristic views on transitioning.)

so no, i don’t mean “regular male voices”, i mean fucking t voices because that was a post about unashamed in-your-face proud transmasculinity, not transmasculinity that tries to make itself indistinguishable from cis manhood. please keep your assimilationist bullshit away from my trans joy, thank you very much.

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

I love 'Meme-ing my way to your heart' sm!!!!! ❤️❤️❤️ Would you consider writing part 2 for it??🥺 Thanks!!!

Meme-ing my way to your heart (Part 2)

Word count: 1k

Pairing: Toto Wolff x Wife!reader, feat. Jack

Part 1

hope the second chapter is good enough Xx

________________________________________________________

The paddock hummed with life as you relaxed in the Mercedes hospitality suite, phone in hand, scrolling through the latest batch of Toto-and-Fred memes. The internet had gone wild after last week’s race, and today, they’d reached a whole new level of creativity.

You laughed out loud as you came across one that had you practically in tears. It was a photoshopped image from the now-famous shot of Toto leaning over Fred’s shoulder, looking intensely at a phone screen that another man had been holding. Except this time, instead of the man, it was you—your face was awkwardly slapped over the man’s head. The caption read: 

When you thought you were just a supportive wife, but the fans cast you as the comic relief in Toto and Fred's love story.

Toto walked in, spotting you laughing at your phone. He sighed, already knowing what was coming. "Another one?"

"Oh, this is gold," you said between giggles, holding out the phone. “Look at this!”

Toto took one glance and groaned, though a smile was already tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Are you serious? They've put you in the meme now?"

“Yup!” You beamed. “Apparently, I’m the third wheel now! Look at me—stuck in the middle of the most epic romance of the paddock.”

Toto leaned over, taking the phone from your hand. “This is ridiculous,” he muttered, even though his amusement was impossible to hide.

“Oh, come on,” you teased, nudging his arm. “Admit it, you two are the power couple no one saw coming.”

Toto rolled his eyes but chuckled. “I'm going to have a word with Fred about this.”

“You better. At this rate, people are going to think I’m the mistress, and you’re leaving me for Fred.”

Before Toto could respond, Jack came running into the hospitality suite with Lewis and George trailing behind him. Jack’s face was flushed with excitement. “Mummy! Daddy! Uncle Lewis and Uncle George took me to the garages, and I got to sit in the car!”

“Did you?” you grinned, opening your arms to hug him. “Was it fun?”

“Yeah! It was super fast, even though it wasn’t moving!” Jack’s enthusiasm was infectious, and even Toto leaned in to ruffle his son’s hair.

“Looks like you’re training the next generation of drivers, Lewis,” Toto remarked, smiling at the two racers who were chuckling nearby.

“Oh, he’s got talent,” George added, winking at Jack. “We might have to sign him up in a few years.”

“Or sooner,” Lewis said with a smirk. “He’s already faster than half the grid.”

Toto laughed, patting Jack’s back. “We’ll keep an eye on him.”

After a bit more chatting, Lewis and George headed back to their prep work, leaving Jack to continue his exploration of the paddock with one of the Mercedes team members.

You couldn’t resist pulling out your phone again. “You know, the internet has more to say on your bromance,” you teased Toto, showing him yet another meme.

Toto looked at the meme and burst into laughter. “Oh my god, they really have too much time on their hands.”

“You’re telling me! You and Fred are practically star-crossed lovers at this point,” you said, leaning closer with a mischievous grin.

At that moment, Fred Vasseur himself walked into your teasing with toto, apparently having just wrapped up a meeting nearby. “Bonjour! I ‘ope I am not interrupting anyzing.”

“Oh no, Fred, you’re just in time!” you said, standing up and waving him over with a grin. “I was just showing Toto how the internet is fully invested in your little… romance.”

Fred raised an eyebrow, glancing from you to Toto with a confused smile. “Romance? With Toto?” His thick French accent made his confusion even more amusing.

You pulled up the latest meme and showed it to Fred, watching his face as he scanned the image of you, Toto, and himself. He let out a hearty laugh. “Ah, I see now! Yes, of course. I ‘ave become ze villain, ‘ave I?”

“Oh no, Fred,” you said with a wink, “You’re the hero of this story. The one who finally steals my husband away.”

Fred grinned, his eyes twinkling with humor. “Ah, so zat’s it! I am ze seducer now?”

“You sure are,” you teased, crossing your arms and tilting your head. “I mean, with all the time you two spend together, it’s only a matter of time before I’m kicked to the curb.”

Toto, shaking his head, pinched the bridge of his nose in mock exasperation. “This has gone too far. Fred, you need to help me get Y/n off my case.”

“Ah, but I cannot ‘elp you, Toto,” Fred said with a grin. “Ze internet ‘as already decided our fate. We are clearly in love.”

Before Toto could respond, Jack came running back into the room, tugging on your sleeve. “Mummy, is Uncle Fred Daddy’s boyfriend?”

The room fell into a stunned silence for half a second before Fred doubled over with laughter, his whole body shaking. “Oh la la, I ‘ave not ‘eard zat one before!”

Toto’s face turned bright red, and he ran a hand through his hair, trying to contain his own laughter. “No, Jack. Uncle Fred is not Daddy’s boyfriend.”

Jack looked up at you, confused. “But you said he was stealing Daddy…”

Fred wiped a tear from his eye, still chuckling. “Ah, but zat is a joke, petit. Just a joke.”

You crouched down to Jack’s level, smoothing his hair with a gentle smile. “That’s right, sweetheart. We’re all just teasing.”

Jack looked at Fred with wide eyes. “So you’re not taking Daddy?”

Fred grinned, kneeling down to be at eye level with Jack. “Non, non, petit. Your daddy is all yours.”

Jack nodded, satisfied, before running off to find his next adventure. You and Toto exchanged a glance, both of you shaking with silent laughter.

“I think that’s enough teasing for today,” Toto said with a grin, finally catching his breath.

“Oh no, this is just the beginning,” you replied, slipping your phone back into your pocket with a wink. “But don’t worry, Fred. I’ll fight for him.”

Fred chuckled, patting Toto on the back. “Bonne chance, mon ami. You are in for a long season.”

[court-jobi]

Goldeneye Down

((banner by me! I don't own Horikoshi's characters/stories))

Pairing: Hawks x reader (quirkless!(gn)reader)

Words: 4.6K

Rating: T+ (canon-typical post-mission shenanigans, so it gets raw, kids.)

Warnings: canon-typical violence, description of injuries/blood, mentions of medical trauma, anxiety, so many tears, mutual pining, HURT/COMFORT, angst with a happy ending

Summary:

If a kiss would fix him, he'd sooner never breathe again. If you knew it would work, you'd surrender your lungs and anything else for his comfort. He hardly gets tender treatment after a fight- and that shows by how tightly he's hugging your waist for dear life. Alternatively: three times you've witnessed your dashing Hawks masking his hurt, until he can't anymore. Each time is worse than the last- until you finally learn that you're the only one who truly asks how he feels after nights like this. Not 'how are your wings' or 'is he stable'... but it's you who takes the time to wipe his face gently with a washcloth: not to rid Hawks of the sweat and grit to make him presentable, but gifting Keigo the chance to feel clean for once.

A/N: Yall, this man is one of my favorite characters on this show, and I have so many writing plans for him-- so apologies for starting right out the gate with angst??? I love him I swear

For my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Read on AO3

The first time you ever saw Hawks shirtless was hardly the stuff fantasies or a perfume advert concocted. He was bandaged across one entire pec, around his middle, and up to his shoulder, after all.

Work as a writer took you to many glamorous locations, but also to the grittiest– recently, hero hospitals when there’s been a close call and you are in for an interview with either a dying hero for their final public wish, or a heartfelt op-ed about a rising sidekick’s latest stand against threat and evil. In either case, you’d wound up at the bedside of a darling rescue agent who’d had an incredible story to share despite their career-ending injuries. 

With a genuine word of thanks and a shared pudding packet, you were leaving the hospital wing in fairly good spirits until your stomach turned in shock at what awaited you in the hallway– a gravely bandaged Hawks standing at the nurse’s station in a half state of dress, locking eyes with you in the first instance where you’d ever caught him off his guard. 

Those gorgeous eyes flashed in nervous panic which melted into boyish charm awfully quickly- standard practice for the secret object of your affections-

“Well gosh, nurse, I thought you’d give a guy a warning if a guardian angel was going to be visiting today… I’d have been decent enough to put a shirt on~!”

It was a detour of hoarse-voiced flirting on his part and masked heartbreak on yours. Seeing the blonde numbed out and paler than you’d ever witnessed him out on the job, your veil of professionalism slipped enough to really see Hawks in this moment… and catch wind of an unaware attendant who slipped the hero’s last name in front of you. 

Said PA immediately recoiled upon seeing you -an extended member of the press- overhear the #2 Pro Hero’s legal name. Though at your insistence that you were here on business that didn’t concern him, Hawks visibly relaxed enough to give you his first name himself the moment the nurse left. 

‘Mr. Takami is far too formal to come outta you; don’t even think about calling me that, dove.’

Keigo Takami truly was a man containing multitudes, but for all the tough talk about how ‘you should have seen the other guy’, you worried about that man you’ve seen now without his gold visor that night when you went home, and wondered if he was sleeping ok with his chest bound like that. 

The next injury sighting took several months of continued text exchanges, private balcony sidebars, and continued endurance of Hawks’ public displays of blatant sweet talking for you to see him less than chipper again.

Your meeting with the HPSC Press Chair was running painfully long, but necessary given the content you were working on publishing for them as side work. It wasn’t doable for you to take on a full-time job with the Hero Commission, but in your philanthropic effort to unite the civilian world with those of high profile heroes, you took on these winded assignments with the promise of a pay bump… as well as a chance to see your darling flyboy. Not that they’d note or care about your budding affections for him. Thankfully, your tight lipped smiles at him were ironclad and his reputation as a charming star preceded him, even to his higher ups so the true feelings never fully sunk in so long as you were mindful.

Pulling a doubletake at your presence in the conference room from the glass windows led Hawks to hang a left inside to quip at you, fully interrupting your meeting despite the scowls he received from the suits lining the table.

“Well isn’t this a pleasant surprise~ hey there, lovedove. Aren’t you pretty as a peach today?”

“Hey there, yourself,” you turned to acknowledge him politely, but pointedly fixed on his eye that laid nearly completely blackened and the cheek scraped to a raw red.  “--aren’t you looking- purple.”

Hawks being sufficiently threatened to report elsewhere didn’t stop him from throwing you a dismissive wink and a smirk at your subtle worry,

 “Oh this? Nah, it’ll fade. I could use the blush anyway~ it’ll save me a trip for photos tomorrow!”

That charming show of optimism wasn’t a surprise as you turned back to your grumpily apologetic managers, though you never did quite forget how Keigo stayed in the entryway soaking in even your curt ending of the conversation. He had to be practically ushered out by some fellow training officers for him to go on his merry way. Your inspection of him had been lightning quick, and you were nearly certain he was black and blue in more places than his face judging by how he sidestepped out the door.

Would he ever take his pain seriously? Under all that swagger, you certainly hoped so. Or else you hoped someone would make a fuss over him. 

Hawks shows on your patio at 12:30 in the morning one day, knocking silly on your side door. It’s been weeks since you wrote another touching piece for the HPCS’s statement on civic protection, and too long since he’s taken a rooftop stroll with you. Hell, far too long that he's had you close. Keeping you at his side, tucked under his towering wing, shielding you from the night winds, peppering each other with soft-spoken words and some stolen kisses he swears mean more to him than a move ‘just for luck’. 

Hawks knocks three times... huffing. He glanced towards the ground, tucking what's left of his wings further in with a wince. He knocks four more times, each more insistent than the last, but mindful of the noise. He even shushes himself in the delirium, canvassing your living room for signs of life.

Your oven light was still on, suggesting you hadn't gone through your full nighttime shutdown yet. That single light bulb in your kitchen appeared to double the more he stared, and tried to blink the unease away. Shit. He's really in no condition to fly. The sidewalk below your floor takes his attention again at the cry he hears. The sound is only cat this time, but still makes him oh-so nervous.

Hawks moans his impatience coupled by the searing pain, begging you to come notice him at the sliding glass. He drops his head damp with sweat to the window (intent to apologize for it later) and just bangs on the window like the desperate man he is.

"Please be up, please be up, please..."

When he opens his eyes briefly, he sees a shadow before him approaching. You'd flicked on more light in your living room and were jogging up to the window with shock brightening your features to total wakefulness. He's never been happier to see you so panicked.

Your confusion is palpable behind the door as you push the blind’s interior locking rod aside and flip up the lock, sliding it-- and Hawks-- along with you.

"Who-ooah!! Hawks??" You whisper-scream.

Stumbling aside, he grips his still bleeding hip and winces at what that move causes for his back. Eyes screwed shut, he can't even quite manage a suave, sweet greeting; he merely sighs your name as an answer to prayer.

You take in this poor, disheveled shell of a hero as he looks every bit like he's come from a dogfight. Not only were his wings sparse and bony from overuse, but his left wing was seizing up and stunted at a poor angle you knew wasn't natural.

oh my God, those poor wings… You collected him up with ready arms- gingerly guiding inside through the center of the patio, wary of bumping either's span of the door. 

"carefulcarefulcareful–"

"eh, it’ll-- nnngh!!" Hawks doubled over-thankfully right into you- "I got'kicked in the back-- right under...ahhhh~ "

Not only that, but despite the blackness of his under armour and gloves, you noted now by movement and smell that he was bleeding elsewhere. Besides the hobble, he sports a busted cheekbone and lip– which he likely bit himself.

This was a hard state to see him in and truly frightened you by the blood loss alone. Worse than any other time you’d seen him after a mission by far.

Primal, parental  instincts filled you and spilled out before you could stop yourself.

"Honey, we gotta get you to Dagoba General; it's closest--"

"I can't-" Hawks stopped you with a vice grip on your wrist while he hobbled along, "s'too public."

-Not allowed, even in an emergency. This you remembered from his earlier run through of policies about heroes needing medical attention; where in the city he could go, how it should be handled privately, and out of civilian's eyes.

"oh shit-- well, how bout the hero hospital, the one by that high school? Can't you call- or I can call! Let me-"

"No~" hawks moaned miserably. "I jus' gotta sit."

“Aren’t you -uh- supposed to have your legs up? You can lay back, it’s ok,” you try to guide him, but he only wavers- set on sitting up. His still-sure sights canvassing the room tells you he’s in a protective, alert headspace here in new surroundings. He might need more direction from you to break this..

"Hawks-- this is beyond what I can do,” You tried to reason with him, grappling a random throw blanket semi draped on the couch before he could sit down. “I told you I worked in refugee centers, I only know basic first aid- but this is more than I can help you, honey! They can get you fluids, a transfusion if you need it, pain meds stronger than what I have from the corner store if you’d just- where's your phone, I can call for an ambulan-"

Hawks fired up right away-

"NO!!" He begged, "no- they, they can't.. I don't wan'.."

Helping him sit, you knelt carefully trying to hear through his clear pain-rattled rant.

You assume he doesn't want the trouble of an ambulance or worry it wouldn't get here in time- which scares you more is debatable.

"We’re working against time here, hot stuff.." you tried for levity, caressing his hand. While he took it shakily, he bit his groan back.

He looked at you seriously, but pouted back in a way you'd normally giggle at, "No 'wee-woos'."

"I know you don't want ‘wee-woos’, but I think we're past that now." 

You cup Hawks’ cheek which successfully transfixes his attention right on your face, while you blindly try his jacket's inner pocket for his phone- closer than yours that’s clear in the back bedroom on your charger, 

"Look, I'll even talk for ya, okay? You don’t have to explain a thing about what happened tonight. Let's just get you help-"

"NO!! I can't hav' 'em find you here!"

His outburst startled you so you pulled back from his jacket entirely- at a true loss, "Can’t have who find me?"

"I won' let 'em," Hawks shook his head, pressing into his side, "I-- they don' know I'm here- they can' see only the pinpoint. Not ell'vation. Ahh. Don't wan'em know.. where you live, f’they don’ already."

You fought to keep up. He's clearly distressed- but you're surprised it's by the thought over your residence being found out. Who would be upset at the fact of him being here enough to have him shaken from even emergency services finding out?

Then you realize, he’s on the clock. He’s gotten hurt at work, and he’s not patrolling anymore. ‘The asset is damaged,’ and he’s laying low effectively out of sight.

"Your.. what, your bosses? Is that what you're worried about right now?"

Hawks was fighting for some deeper breaths. Some old instincts finally kicking in, he’s pushing air out forcefully though his lips in a decent try to slow himself down. He knows you know that much– how his work is essentially divvied into two piles: the stuff you hear about on the news, and the stuff you don't. The HPSC handles both, but primarily involves him in one. Thankfully, he knows you're quick enough to know tonight is a night of the latter and one that you know you shouldn't ask too much more of, despite your clear desire for understanding. 

But he’s bleeding on your sofa and he is about to damn near break or bleed out and you feel drawn to his heart and feel a selfish urge to know.

"I don't understand- why, ... why come here if you were worried, Kei?"

"I was.. close,” he offered with some huffs again.

That answer felt too loaded, but you were too groggy yourself to reason with such a clammy man dealing with who knows how much blood loss.

He forced as much clarity to his vision as he could, while watching you get up to close the patio door up. You shut the blinds for good measure too before debating whether to run back to the bathroom and  grab what gauze and antiseptics you had. For both the sake of time and to keep the poor man from following you throughout the apartment like you knew he’d try to do, you settled on wetting a few washcloths by the sink and came back to him.

"Your fight was close to here?" You kept him in the moment while attempting to get off his coat. He sat forward to help in this, but his eyes shut hard as it forced his shoulder blades together, to feed the gap over the wings.

Through steeled grunts he manages it, then strangles out the basics for you, "Y-yeah.. small.. weap'n traffic ring. But we had intel they'd.. Had a hit out on’the magistrate."

You set the bloodied jacket to the ground- torn between looking at his pained face and getting a look at the hip he was leaning into.

"They hadda few tough quirk users," Hawks gritted, separating his hand at your insistence. The shirt peeling back sticky was the least of his worries when you laid the wet washcloth at his side, "one had blades for legs, n’the other had a kind of whip-AHH!!"

Only water, but it burned like hell. Burned through the mess he'd made of himself. Proof he'd been sent in there outmatched-- 5 to 1 so he says, but even for the #2 Hero, the odds were stacked against him for a covert attack. You whispered a gentle apology over the sting.

You hated hearing the challenge and clear surprise of the incident that caused this version of your hero to be brought to the surface, knocking on your door like a kid trying to sneak back into the house in the middle of the night.

"So they nicked you here– and your back?" You asked gently, "Anywhere else?"

"They were gonna take out the block--"

You heard the panic rise in him again, the tremor in voice and wings.

"Haw-.. Keigo."

"They were gonna-- they didn't even know you lived up here.. you of all people.. but they were gonna do it. I had- said I hadta stop em, whatever it took.."

You set the first soiled cloth aside, centered between his spread knees, and cupped his face in both hands now. He's trembling all over and pulse is going wild under your fingers. He locked onto your necklace- avoiding your eyes in anger, guilt, and a messy, gnarled ball of exhaustion while you cleaned his face.

It wasn’t clinically necessary, but you wanted to.

 "But you stopped them," you reminded, "You said you got 'em, right?"

Something flitted across his face that looked hollow- like a younger side of Keigo Takami was looking for help finishing his thoughts. Like he was reverting to a shadow self that was about to cry just feeling you cool down his neck with the clean side of a washcloth.

"I got em." He barely whispered, new frustrated tears flooding his eyes and forcing his brows together. "I did it. I did-- what they wanted me to."

The way he says it is not a victory. It's guilty, not even proud in a sense of justice. It was forced; not unlike a militant following orders.

"The safety commission, keeping folks safe at all costs," you answered for him, forcing his eyes to blink at the name. What crimson feather remained ebbed and rustled on impulse.

Suddenly, he frowned down at his own hands, suddenly wrenching himself free of his damp, tainted gloves, like they were burning him alive the longer they stayed on his fingers. 

"Cost them," Hawks croaked, "Wanted t’take ‘em in, make them pay the way we always do. But then they said they're taking the block out- and I couldn't let em- I couldn't let them get you or anyone else--I shoulda felt like a damn hero they say I am."

Hawks shook his head pathetically, nearly collapsing forward at the feel of you raking his bangs back, before he sobbed,

"but I didn't want to. They begged. Couldn’a run when they knew they couldn't win, so they begged. I don't wanna do it this way, don't want it to come to this. I can't keep ending it all just because I can!! I’m no–"

Hawks wipes harshly at his eyes with the heel of his palm, his anger at a tipping point.

Your heart sobers and breaks altogether. He's confessing to you because he knows this whole ordeal is going to be painted so differently by the media in the morning. Heroes have to make impossible calls- and you know his handlers don't make it easier on him when it comes to completing these covert assignments. They’ve essentially given him a license none others do- allowances that dance in the world of grey.

Hawks and heroes like him have been granted permission to take lethal measures. But it’s a grim, fell thought that when you’re in the moment- the choice to kill or stay in your armed hands. The pressure is bound to weigh anyone, make them crack and doubt their sensibilities.

Any bystander would call Hawks heroic for saving more lives than taking them- but fear is what forces him to kill. Fear of loss, of the catastrophic unknown that he continues to fight for faster and faster. 

You leveled with Hawks’ sightline, forcing terrified eyes to yours. While the sight of this confident man worn down grieved you, schooling your face and brows to be strong was an easy ask when he needed you.

"I know you didn't,” you affirmed all he said, “You were so brave, Keigo. You were really brave, no matter what. No matter how these fights end. You always are brave."

Keigo listens and heaves an ungodly sound at your words. 

Suddenly, he's pulling you close and crying into your chest and you meet him all the way. You lock your grasp around his shoulders gingerly at first afraid to hold too tight. Cradling his head to you and hushing him seems to work for now, since he’s able to speak again after more schooled breaths. 

But this reaction from him is far from assured; he’s afraid. Unheard. And it seems with you, he can finally air these harsh truths without outside ears listening in stopping his tongue.

"They don't care how hard it is. They don't care. They just push and push and push me, and 'm tired and it hurts!!"

All you can do is hold him.

"I know, baby,” you barely speak, “I know it does, I know it hurts..."

“It always hurts,” he sobs, “It does every time. When you saw me and you looked at me, and you asked me if it hurt, I lied because I had to. But shit, this hurts…”

Hawks’ heated hands grasp at you: the contour of your body is the altar he's kneeling at- from this very spot of your couch. He's wailing now- half in pain, half in misery of being failed over and over again and only now -in secret- ever receiving someone to listen in return. The sound barely makes noise as its buried in your middle, but it rocks you where you kneel up straight to keep him close.

You let him grieve and hold space for every bit of it. He's never once been this vulnerable with another soul in his life, you’re convinced, and he sounds just so grateful to have your hands on his. Grounding. Giving him relief he's been starving for since you first paid attention to him across that crime scene where you first met.

Once he began mimicking your pronounced breathing he finally starts to feel more calm. 

To give him air, you robbed one hand from around him in order to push back some hair from his face and check his temperature. He could actually feel how cool your hands were once he started getting color into his face from his spot at your chest. Drained and pliant, he mumbles something at your sternum, and you ask him to repeat it gently,

“Hands’re cold,” he whispers.

“Oh, m’sorry.”

“No,” he shuts his eyes. "Feels good. You feel so good. The other docs, they're just so-- clinical.. They don't- they aren't gentle. No one feels as good as you do.”

Softness seeps from the very pit of you. What you won’t give to protect this hero now. 

You see a slumped pillow at his side and think to use it as a bolster until his back spasms lessen.

"Here, babe. Let's get one of these behind you. You can lay back a bit-"

Hawks chips his chin up to you, a bat of his eyes pleading, ‘don’t go’.

It’s official: you love him.

"I won't go,” you coo down to him, “I won't make you get up. I'll be here. Right here." 

You kiss that hot, flushed forehead, and he wants to crumble again by the way you hear him swallow. 

“I-” Hawks tries to recover from his overwhelm, "...I need you..."

Your answer would never deny him, "What do you need, pretty bird."

"Need you– hold on t'me." Hawks nuzzles your neck in relief.

"I've got you. I've got you this time. You always have everyone else; now I have you."

This is the way you’d keep him, if he were all yours. After a day of things he’d rather forget, you’d replace them all with kind words and soothing touches that settle his restlessness. To his nature that never stops moving, you’d make it your mission to bring some stillness and comfort to the forefront of his burdened mind.

While you’d love for reality to keep on pause, a flash of movement at the window gave you hope rather than alarm, 

“Hey, Kei. Lookie there. You've got a little pile waiting for you~” you nod back to the patio, catching some blips of red near the unobscured vertical blinds. “Would having them back on you help? Make you feel more steady?"

Interest piqued, Hawks sounds pleasantly surprised seeing them with his own eyes. 

"Ah. Yeah."

"Wanna rinse off, too? You can; use my shower, get yourself a lil more fresh?” the offer is true and comes from you easily. Happy to offer whatever healing measures possible to him while you wipe away leftover tears from a set of perfectly golden eyes. “I can’t promise I have something that fits you super well, but let’s see what I got.”

You knew the hot water would likely sting his wound, but would also buy him more time before he's  ready to fly again and go get checked out more formally.

Still wilty, Hawks gives a comical grimace in the face.  “I’d sure hate t’bleed all over your stuff.”

“Stuff can be washed; there’s only one you.”

And at this, he finally looks back up to you like the Keigo you know and sinks at the idea, giving in to the tempting idea. He nods. Any trace of boiled over bitterness in his aura has faded to a low simmer, and has left a warm, comfortable, gorgeous-looking man to peer up at you. 

You help him up, open the door once more, and Hawks is able to stand a bit better on his own now with a wingspan full of settling feathers preening themselves into place. Once face to face, he finds his hands are still seeking out your waist, and his face furrows– unwilling to let go fully of his personal painkiller.

You still his hesitation with a mouth’s warm press to his cheek followed by a gentle kiss on the lips. His palms go lax and a moan leaves him softly.

“I'll hold you all you want when you get out,” you whisper gently to him. “No funny business, I promise. Yeah?"

As if he held any true worries. 

"Wouldn’t ever mind if you did, dove. But yeah– I’d like that."

With another lingering kiss, you do your utmost to take things as quickly as he can manage for the sake of getting him to rest quickly… but by the way Hawks eyes you from all your puttering about the apartment, he holds no urgency or rush. To the contrary, he's happy going slow and steady while he’s with you. 

His hand catches yours any chance he gets until he’s ultimately able to lay his head to rest on you at the first idle moment of the evening. Its in these, the wee morning hours, that he’s eager now to remember this as the first night you got to help him heal and not just recover.

"You sure you aren't rushing it?" the slight worry tinges your sleepy morning voice in just the next few waking hours. All you both had was a glorified nap given his late arrival.

The song of your concern obviously pleases your loving company, as the edges of Hawks’ eyes crinkle at your worry. 

"I gotta report in by six. I'll stop at my place, change before I go in, heat up something to eat. And I’ll text you when I get there."

The checklist of answers is sweet and characteristically Hawks, but you hope Keigo hasn’t checked out of your bubble yet.

"Okay. But.. take some time if you can. Come see me if you still need me."

A noticeable fondness settles across Hawks’ devilishly handsome smile, and comes over to cup your face for another coffee-masked kiss. 

"I always need you.” Thank you. For everything. "I'll see you soon." I love you.

"See you soon." I love you too.

Weeks pass with Hawks’ semi-regular visits to the apartment, holding you in the kitchen like the lovesick boy he is at heart. ‘Talking work’ he claims, when his higher ups ask him about the delays, but he’s more inclined to slack and slip into far more personal matters as he guides you over back towards the barstools and sits back on one.

A curious mind makes you question why he's pushing the limits of his absence until he pulls you in to completely become flush with him and realize he wants your attention before anyone else’s. He sinks in how you set your hands on his shoulders, smiling like a sweet dope, looking up at you while you check him over.

You know he’s tired from a day on patrol in full sun, but the faint sunburn across his cheeks doesn’t seem altogether too painful. Just needs a decent aloe blend. Still, you ask as you always do, 

“How you feelin’, pretty bird?”

And he truly answers honestly now, no bravado for handlers to scoff at or bystanders to placate:

“Better now.”