#there will be many terrible lines and one great line from anime

[irisintheafterglow]

touya todoroki completes community service hours at an aquarium.

your supervisors, understandably, were adamantly against having the convicted criminal anywhere near the facility, its staff, and its animals. however, after being reassured time and time again that he wouldn't be working in public areas, you were assigned to be his unofficial parole officer (or off-fish-er you called it) because of your hydrokinetic quirk. not only were you responsible for watching a criminal, you were also the first line of defense in case he decided to make the facility into a seafood boil.

you'd better be getting a stellar letter of recommendation after all this.

as luck would have it, word spread quickly among aquarium staff about the new volunteer and his...messy...history. you received many texts wishing you good luck and stating that you're in many people's prayers as if working with him would be a death sentence. but, to your surprise, your first day with touya is actually...not terrible.

"you're doing a nice job. you can cut them into larger chunks if you want," you recommend kindly as he slices pieces of shrimp and fish for the penguins and drops them into the gray bucket.

"don't want them to choke," he mumbles almost imperceptibly. from what you've heard about him, touya was physically incapable of shutting up and always had some snarky insult to mutter under his breath. the man you were working with, however, kept his thoughts to himself and only engaged you with curt acknowledgments of tasks. "these got bones in 'em still?"

"digestible ones, yeah," you confirm, a little confused about why he's so curious. he struck you as the type of guy to just work and finish his assignments with as little energy exertion as possible. but here he was, concerned for the animals' safety even when he hadn't even seen them yet. "we just need to cut them up because some of them try to swallow the big ones whole, and we don't need them blocking their throats."

"how many are there?"

"the penguins?" he hums in assent, never taking his eyes off the precise cuts on the food. "i think our colony is a few dozen, maybe twenty-two?"

"do they get along well?"

"some of them are a little feistier than others," you admit with a fond smile. "but the majority of them are really sweet. you'll see when you meet them."

"meet them?"

"you're not walking out with me, of course," you quickly correct. "my shift lead's gonna have my head on a stake if you so much as show a finger to the public." he nods, an odd sort of quiet falling between you two that was more awkward than the previous silence. if you knew any better, you would interpret his expression for disappointment. "there's one recovering from an illness backstage named peach. she gets fed on her own, but if there's some left over i can take you over there to feed her."

"it's fine. don't wanna bother your routine," he mutters with a shrug, but you catch the renewed glint in his eyes at the prospect of meeting one of the animals personally. after feeding the main colony and not-so-accidentally leaving a few treats at the bottom of the bucket, touya follows you through the back halls of the vet center to peach's holding area.

"be warned, she's one of the feisty ones," you caution him, carefully stepping into the plexiglass-enclosed space. he copies your motions exactly and you're surprised, again, from the great care he seems to take when interacting with the small penguin. "so, all you need to do is hand out the fish to her and let her take it in her beak."

"does she dislike new people?" he asks as peach aggressively inspects his shins, prodding them with her beak when touya tries to step away. "i don't think she likes me."

"it's the opposite, believe it or not; you're making her angry when you try to give her space like that," you reply with a stifled laugh.

"oh. i see." peach continues to slap touya with her fins and poke him until he gives her what she wants, a large chunk of fish straight from his hand. you kneel down next to him when he has a seat on the floor, his eyes curiously observing the spunky bird. "she always this sassy with you?"

"only when she gets jealous," you smile, running your hand over the top of her head. her eyes close in contentment before returning to touya's outstretched food offering. "what do you think?"

"about what?"

"do you think this arrangement is gonna be a nightmare for you?" he pauses and, for the millionth time that day, surprises you with how much thought he put into his actions.

"if everyone i meet is as easy as you and her," he says, gesturing to peach but speaking soft enough to make your cheeks heat, "i think i'll get by."

---

"peach duty today?"

"schedule got mixed around, so we'll be giving her dinner instead of lunch today," you reply and touya hums at your side, an answer that could be considered rude if you didn't already know he was a man of few words.

few words, that is, if he was speaking to anyone other than the animals. after a month of touya shadowing you, you could pick up on the little conversations he had with the different animals he took care of: asking the cownose rays to calm down during feeding time, warning the reef sharks that they might need braces if they keep losing so many teeth (he kept forgetting it was normal for them to lose that many teeth), quietly cheering on the day octopus as he breaks into a jar full of crabs.

"who've we got today?"

"took a hell of a lotta convincing, but my boss is letting you meet my best friend today," you inform him. touya walks in step beside you like he'd memorized the fishy-smelling back halls of the aquarium, barely sparing passing wary staff so much as a glance. you'd be intimidated, too, if he wasn't your partner; he was formidable in his favorite blue windbreaker with his hands stuffed casually in its pockets that subtly accented the lean muscle in his arms. not that you were paying much attention to his body, anyway.

"and who would that be?"

"her name is donna, but i call her mama donna." he follows you down a corridor he'd never taken before, toward the very back of the medical wing. "take that hall on the right and change into a wetsuit; i'll meet you back over here, okay?"

"why do i need to change?"

"well, because you're getting in the water with me."

shit.

it's the first time touya hesitates in a long time when you beckon him to join you in the shallow pool. you'd already summoned donna, who was much larger of an animal than he expected. you said she was an adult zebra shark, but all he could register is the tiny tank of brown sacks the size of his hand just outside the walls of the pool.

"i don't think it's the best--"

"get in the water, touya, or i'm gonna report you for insubordination," you interrupt, waist-deep in the water. you don't mean it, of course, but you did need a hand with donna if you were going to check on the status of her eggs.

"i shouldn't be in the water with her, 'specially if she's a mother."

"what, you got something against moms?" he flinches and you suddenly regret speaking so brashly, something about his reaction indicating that you'd hit a nerve. "sorry, that was insensitive--"

"i don't wanna hurt her if i..." his voice trails off and he looks down at his scarred hands, the tissue dark enough to almost match the color of his wetsuit. "it's better for everyone if i don't get close to her if she's vulnerable." you wait for him to look you dead in the eyes before answering.

"i wouldn't bring you to meet her if i didn't think you were ready, touya," you begin gently. "i don't think of you the same way as the rest of the staff because you've proven that you're different from the gossip."

"but what if i--"

"did you forget why i'm paired with you in the first place?" donna swims around you impatiently, nudging you with her nose while you continue to convince touya to get in the water. "i'm the only one on staff that can neutralize you, but i know i won't need to."

"how are you so sure?"

"because i hear you talk to them," you state simply, rubbing your hand on donna's nose as her tail splashes your upper body. "your little conversations tell me you care, even if i'm not allowed to be a part of them." you shoot him a wry smile and he finally scoffs, partly a chuckle and partly an exhale; he didn't realize he'd been holding his breath. "i'll drown you if you heat this water by even half a degree, so help me with donna and then we can go visit peach, yeah?"

---

you'd fallen into an unexpectedly fond partnership over the course of your six months of touya-duty. he was a pretty damn good listener, letting you boss him this way and that and only retaliating with a lighthearted eyeroll. on certain occasions, he would open up about his history, and you followed along intently. he insisted on doing the heavy lifting and opening every door for you, even if you weren't carrying anything. he remembered every animal by name and could tell apart the most similar looking creatures, pointing out their differences with an expression that screamed 'is it not obvious?' towards the end of his assignment, you both faced an unexpected surprise.

his family came to visit.

well, not all of his family, only the ones touya maintained somewhat of a relationship with. in the times he'd opened up, he briefly mentioned his now-graduated little brother, shoto, and the work he'd done to mend the tears between him, his mother, and his other siblings. you consider it a blessing that only his mother and siblings appear when you round the corner to the 'vip only' waiting area (from your talks, you'd also learned it'd be on sight if touya's retired father stepped on the property). he freezes when he sees his family as the guests who would be shadowing him, becoming uncharacteristically stiff as petrified wood.

"welcome, todoroki family. i'm so glad you could join us today," you greet with a polite smile. only when your hand gently settles on touya's shoulder, the reminder of your presence melting the chill in his veins, does the tension in his body dissipate. "touya? d'you wanna introduce me to your family?" he glances at you, your unwavering trust in him, and his eyes soften as he nods.

"yeah," he affirms quietly. "yeah, i can do that."

"doing great, partner," you whisper once you're acquainted with the family and on the move, heading toward the back halls of the tropical gallery. "i'll only talk if you need me to, today, because i want this to be about you and them."

"but you're not gonna leave me, right?"

"wouldn't dream of it," you reassure him, something in your heart stumbling when he gives you an easy smile. as the day goes on and touya guides his family through the back corridors of the facility, he's able to ramble about all the knowledge he'd acquired while working with you. at each exhibit, he points out every species with total accuracy and shares his favorite quirks about certain animals. you have a front-row seat for the way his eyes, usually so molten and intense, have a star-like quality to them when he talks about his new friends, the abalone and the otters and the sea bass. his family observes him in awe, and you catch his mother watching you watch him several times. touya ends the day by introducing peach, his self-proclaimed 'number one girl,' and helping his family with her nightly feeding. though all the todoroki siblings struck you as reserved when you first met them, their conversations were full of life as they walked ahead and you trailed behind with his mother.

"this suits him," rei states with a thoughtful smile.

"i'm biased, but i agree," you reply. she fixes you again with that curious stare, analyzing you. "do i have fish scales on my face?" she laughs and shakes her head.

"no, i'm just indebted to you for getting through to him." you blink, taken aback by her genuine response. "being with you makes him happy. i haven't seen him like this in a long while." she turns back to her children, walking in one raucous group and making plans to get dinner after his shift. "he doesn't talk with them like this often."

"i imagine it's all a mother would want after everything they've been through, if i may," you add and she hums in agreement.

"it is. it's also why, i hope you wouldn't mind," she trails off and her eyebrows pinch slightly, like she's thinking of something worrisome. "if he could stay here."

"of course. i've noticed that he has a knack for husbandry, so--"

"he wants to stay with you," she cuts in, her voice soft as powdered snow. "and i'd like him to stay with you, if it means we can see him more like--"

"this," you finish for her, gesturing to the pile of adult men wrestling each other just ahead, their sister shaking her head from afar. rei sighs, her smile turning sad.

"exactly." before you can give her your reply, touya has escaped his brothers and approached to steal you from his mother.

"if you take those double doors and turn left, you'll end up in the gift shop. wait there and we can get dinner once i'm off," he tells rei, taking her hand and squeezing it once. "i won't be long." she nods and joins her other children, leaving you alone with touya in front of the staff-only window of the sea lion pool. the fading afternoon light catches in the water's rippling and sends a soft beam of light across the cavern. the largest of the lions, boris, floats from below to observe you and touya standing in front of his tank.

"he moves like a slinky," touya states and you can't help but laugh.

"he does move like a slinky, you're right." you turn to him and find he's already looking back at you, not boris. "i loved meeting your family today," you offer in the silence that makes the heartbeat in your ears sound so much louder. "they're very sweet, especially your mother."

"what were you two talking about while we were away?"

"she wanted to show me baby photos," you tease and he gives his signature eyeroll. "but really," you inhale and steady yourself, "she was saying how much this suits you."

"i'd have to agree," he murmurs, his eyes glowing like dying embers. you're close enough to smell him, smoky and rich and only the slightest bit like fish. the proximity feels comforting, like home. "if...if you'd let me--"

"stay with me," you blurt. he blinks at you, the rosy color on the tips of his ears standing out against the bright white. "i-i want you to stay with me." you wait and the quiet stews, nothing moving except slinky-like boris in the water beside you. touya's reply is barely above a whisper.

"i want to stay with you." you release a shaky exhale and let your head fall forward against his chest, steadied by his arms securing themselves around your waist. your hands slide over his shoulders and rest at the nape of his neck, fiddling with the tuft of hair at its base. "please let me stay with you," he breathes in your ear. his arms flex as his grip tightens, like you'd turn to water if he held you too loosely. touya feels like his heart is rattling in his ribcage, bouncing around uncontrollably the longer he has you in his arms. he hasn't felt his chest ache like this before.

"yes, i want you to stay with me," you confirm and he melts into you, breathing you in like fresh oxygen.

"for how long?"

"as long as you'd let me," you answer honestly. the corner of his mouth turns upward in a teasing smirk.

"and if i said forever?"

"then i guess i'd have to oblige," you beam. your hands cup his face, tracing the seam of his scars, and your eyes flutter shut as his lips meet yours. it's careful, the first time he kisses you, and he's terrified you'd slip from his fingers. but you don't disappear, so he lets himself lace your fingers with his and drag you out to the rest of his loved ones, hand-in-hand and finally feeling like he can do something good.

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[obsessivevoidkitten]

The Werewolf's Pet Cat

Trans Male Yandere Werewolf x Trans Male Cat-hybrid Reader (CW: Noncon, mild scent kink, knotting, inhuman genitals, heat cycles, rut, werewolf yandere, reader being chased, trans male reader and yandere, yandere has transitioned via magic, general yandere behavior.) Word Count 2.1k (This is a commission for @trocha1c. I hope you guys enjoy it. Also this is not an omegaverse fic, there is knotting because the yandere is a werewolf and there is a heat cycle for the reader because they are part feline, sense of smell is mentioned because of their animal abilities, but there are no alphas or omegas in this universe.)

There were many servants in any castle, even in a smaller one like the one that you worked in still contained a sizable workforce. The dusting alone was an atrocious task. You would know, you were one of those numerous servants. Though you were the only one who was a cat-man.

Your tasks were largely various cleaning oriented jobs including dusting, sweeping, laundry, and occasionally bringing food from the kitchen to Lord Dran when he decided to have his meals outside of the kitchen.

That’s the task you enjoyed the most, it meant you got to be in his presence. He always smelled so nice. So… masculine. Even with your sensitive feline nose you couldn’t quite place what it was.

You had worked for him for about a year and you had been almost supernaturally attracted to him since the first time you met him. Of course… despite being a somewhat uncommon cat man you were still very much a commoner. And he was a lord.

You could never hope to be anything to him.

This wasn’t an incorrect line of thinking. Lord Dran was very much attracted to you as well. He could tell you were a kindred soul. He also possessed superior senses and he knew that even though you were a boy you had a pussy between your legs, and he could smell its arousal whenever you stayed in the room with him for any extended length of time.

He was once like you, a man with those parts, until he had paid a lot of money for a mage to conduct a complex ritual to give him the body he had always wanted. The fact that you were both trans made him want you much more. You’d understand him more than others.

But despite his deep seated longing for you he would have to be satisfied with stolen glances, your scent, and impure thoughts he harbored towards you, for he couldn’t ever deign to be with a commoner.

He had to use his position as a lord to solidify a political alliance for his family and strengthen the family position.

You were completely oblivious to his long stares and extra kindness towards you. In the end it didn’t matter though. They couldn’t amount to anything.

But the royal family, or at least his branch of it had a terrible secret. They were no longer human. They were all werewolves. Once a month during the full moon Lord Dran retreated to a fortified private room and grew into a large ravenous beast. One from nightmares, with a hunger for fresh game and with an instinctual need to find a mate to stuff its big knot into.

You didn’t have something so dramatic to struggle with, you only had a monthly heat cycle. They weren’t really all that bad, you just became significantly more horny, more sensitive to the scents of others, and a bit feverish. Nothing you couldn’t handle.

But it just so happened that your heat cycle coincided with the full moon.

One night, a full moon no less, you had been working late in the great hall cleaning up after earlier festivities. When you finished you headed for the servant’s quarters but for some reason you had made a wrong turn. And you were much closer to the room that no one ever went into. The one that always remained locked.

When you realized where you were you started to turn back but something alluring with a hint of danger hit your heat-enhanced nose and you were compelled to follow.

You got closer and closer to the door. What was that amazing smell? It was so strong now… and starting to cause you to make a wet spot from the arousal it was generating in you.

Suddenly you heard a muffled scream of pain through the thick door. You ran over to it and found that it was locked from the outside and through the glass panel you saw Lord Dran naked on the ground writhing in pain.

You immediately unlocked the heavy metal door and made your way inside, running to him with utmost concern.

“What’s wrong my lor-”

“Y-you… don’t.. under… stand… g-get ouuOOWWWLLLLL”

His last word turned into a pained howl as his body shook. His bones and muscles rearranged themselves before your very eyes as thick fur covered his body.

The seemingly human Lord Dran was a werewolf! A cursed Beast!

To say you were terrified was a gross understatement. Your heart was beating so fast that it hurt. Quickly, you turned to flee the room so you could lock the monster in behind you. But the speed of the werewolf was far superior to your own. He grabbed your leg, long claws raking against your supple skin, causing you to flop down on your belly.

It was at that exact moment that a shocked guard rounded the corner and saw the scene, you crying on your stomach, being pulled closer by his transformed Lord.

He had been given the duty to protect the door from anyone who may get too close, but he had left his post for a few minutes to take a leak.

And now this had happened.

You looked up at him standing in the doorway and screamed for his help, but when he got over the fear that paralyzed him he stammered out a quick apology and slammed the door before sliding the heavy lock in place, quite literally sealing your fate. He just couldn’t risk Lord Dran being released to save but one lowly servant.

The guard was sure you were going to perish in a horrifying display of blood and gore. YOU were sure you were going to perish in a horrifying display of blood and gore.

But a violent blow never came. Instead the beast flipped you over on your back and sniffed curiously at your crotch, nuzzling his nose into it. You desperately kicked away his face, but his angry growl was enough to make you stop.

The werewolf had determined that you were his mate, and while you didn’t know it yet he would never harm his partner. But… he also wouldn’t be denied his right to stuff them with his knot.

With extreme care not to harm your fragile skin, he carefully used his razor sharp claws to remove your clothing from your quivering form. You didn’t immediately understand exactly what his intentions with you were but it became clear what he wanted when he loomed over you and saw his large red cock erect and swinging beneath him. He pinned you down easily.

You shuddered as his cold nose nuzzled into your sensitive neck, taking in your sweet scent.

As his dick got closer to your entrance you renewed your struggle, forgetting the strength of the creature that was holding you down and the perceived danger he represented.

“No! No please! I-i don-”

This time he didn’t respond with a growl, instead opting to lick your neck to try and calm you down. He wasn’t going to hurt his little mate~ He just wanted to fuck you and take care of that heat cycle he could smell so clearly. He was helping you!

Encouraged by the whimpers his tongue on your neck brought out of you he started biting. Not hard enough to break skin, but they would still leave lovely little claiming marks.

The combination of stimulation from the bites, your heat, and his scent finally caused you to spread your legs for him, you barely registered what you were allowing as his cock plunged into your drooling pussy with an audible squelching noise.

With your tight wet warmth enveloping him his knot began swelling inside of you, making your toes curl and twitch as it kissed the walls of your cunt with every powerful thrust of your Lord.

Some part of your brain was still telling you to scream for help and cry and try to struggle, but it felt so nice to finally have a heat taken care of.

You wrapped your arms and legs around him, grinding your pussy into his dick, as he continued biting you wherever he could leave a nice claiming mark.

The two of you went at it nearly all night, bringing one another to orgasm many times over.

At some point, very late into the night, you passed out from exhaustion with the lycanthrope holding you close, nutting in you a couple more times before finally falling asleep himself. With his knot still tying the two of you together as he caressed you.

When Lord Dran woke up he was his normal human self, holding you in his arms.

He freaked out about the situation, but as soon as the guard informed him what had happened and he had a moment to reflect he knew what he had to do.

Regardless of your social status he would have to keep you very close at all times to ensure that you never speak of his “condition” to a single soul.

When you finally woke up you were confused and sore, covered in bite marks and a few scratches. When the memory of what had transpired last night finally rushed back to you, terror gripped your heart once more.

Lord Dran was a werewolf, and he had scratched you! Would you become a cursed beast yourself?

“Oh you’re awake! We have a lot to discuss…”

The first thing he explained, as if he could read your thoughts, was that lycanthropy passed via bloodlines and complex curses. Nothing physical.

That was a relief.

The next thing he explained was that he could never let you leave his side now. You’d have to marry him and there was simply no other solution. He could not risk his secret getting out. Even if the chance of someone believing you was small.

“I am so sorry this happened to you.”

Though to be honest he was quite happy. The his to any social status was worth it to have a mate that he can be with with no danger when his time of the month came around. He was sure he would have slaughtered anyone else, but you were so special. With you there he could focus on fucking instead of violent urges, it was more than he could ever have hoped for.

Just a day ago if you had been told you would soon be in a relationship with Lord Dran you would have been elated, but now you were just terrified. You didn’t want to marry a werewolf. You had sympathy for his situation, but this is not the kind of thing you thought that you could deal with.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

ONE MONTH LATER.

It had been days since you had managed to escape the castle. With your keen animal-like senses you managed to be able to hunt and forage enough with yourself to get by. Plus you had managed to keep a bit of gold with you, just in case.

You wanted to make it to the next kingdom, but the way was long and the woods were dense. You probably had another week of travel before making it across the border. No nobles from your home country would dare cross without notice.

Night was fast approaching so you decided you would make camp until the first light of dawn. You were once again in heat so you slid a couple of your fingers into your pussy to take the edge off.

While you were masturbating you suddenly heard what sounded like branches breaking close by. You pulled your pants up and listened intently, your feline ears moving to try and locate the source of the sound.

Probably just an ani-

Your thought was interrupted by a great and blood curdling howl. And it was exceedingly close. Was it a wild wolf? Was it something… more? You didn’t stay to find out.

With your animal-like agility you wasted no time in running out into the dark. You could probably manage to outrun a wolf.

But the shadowy figure you saw pursuing you in the moonlight was no wolf.

And now that you were down wind you could smell it too.

Lord Dran.

In no time at all you were pounced upon, claws once again removing clothing and a huge erection prodding at your entrance.

Ah, his mate was already nice and warmed up for him~ How sweet!

His wolf form didn’t understand why his mate had run, but that didn’t matter now. The chase was won and he certainly would never let you have another chance at escape.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

august 2024 episode of octavinelle + 4koma update

You know the drill by now!

Spoilers for the 4koma and the Episode of Octavinelle chapter 12 below the cut. As a reminder, the Episode of Savanaclaw won’t be updating again until winter.

🫵 THERE THEY ARE…

THE SMOOTH CRIMINALS…

The poses in this opening page are so good; Leona sat all lax like a boss who knows who’s large and in charge, Ruggie leaning against the chair and swinging the keys to the vault around on one finger… The posing perfectly captures their personalities and roles in relationship to one another.

Once again, Azul makes many fantastically desperate and despair-filled expressions this installment 😭

Falling to his knees???? Laying flat on the floor??? Man is UNMATCHED when it comes to theatrics.

I like this shot of Azul and Leona’s gazes lining up; it really helps give you the sense of two rivals sizing each other up.

(Side note: you can also tell how much painstaking detail the artists went through to include their eye makeup in these close-ups. Hats off to them for the extra effort, it looks great!)

… WHY DiD THEY hAvFTA mAkE HIM So smUGHERE 💀

damn i wish i was that stack of contracts

… I mean what

sorry

Sorry

SORRY

I got distracted there, what were we talking about again????

AYO they always make Leona casting King’s Roar look so darn cool in the manga 😭

My favorite panel in this sequence has to be the one with the text bubbles. He looks so nonchalant and a little stern as he speaks the chant… The shadows on his face add a lot to the atmosphere of it!

This chapter is the part where Leona gets to sanding Azul’s hard work away! Look at how beautifully drawn Azul’s reaction is ✨

The particle-y effect of the contracts melting into sand is nice 😌 It feeds Azul’s tears… Tasty meal…

MOU YADA IN MANGA FORM IS PEAK

lmao Azul for real threw a tantrum, flailing his limbs and everything 🤡 Love that even Leona and Ruggie have NO idea how they should respond to this.

Oh no, here comes the OB…

The anguish Azul’s experiencing is really coming through. He’s sweating so much and his entire face is so. Er… for lack of a better term, twisted.

I think seeing the blot leaking out from each of them helps to illustrate that they’re truly being overwhelmed and consumed by their own inner darkness. It’s sad to see 😔

We cut back to Yuuta and co. squaring off against the twins!

I wanted to point out and comment on these parts with Jack. He’s not a character that I usually pay much attention to, but I gotta commend him for fighting back so hard and trying to shield the picture even when he’s clearly got no chance of winning. Jack bearing his fangs at Floyd with pupils contracted… 🫶 Very good and loyal pupper! I get the Jack appeal now, lol

I LOVE THIS

It reminds me of the similar Azul-Leona framing earlier in the chapter, though with a different context. I like that this shows how the twins are in sync and coming to the same terrible conclusion.

Not long after, they rush to Azul’s side—which makes me think that these two worry for his wellbeing 😭 THEY DONmT SAY IT OUT LOUD BUT THEY CARE

Oh yeah, here it comes… OB Azul has arrived!! 👀

I MEAN YEAH it’s not good for his health, but I’m so hyped for the battle and flashbacks to his childhood! Baby!Azul shall NOT escape our sight…

The 4koma this month centers on Jack, Vargas, and others (Jade, Kalim, Deuce) talking about using transformation magic for racing.

dhejeveiwhwuow I would say more, but I actually didn’t find this 4koma that remarkable. It’s a generally the boys chatting about animals and their different activities they excel at.

[loganhowlettshousewife]

both.

logan howlett x bisexual!reader / (pre-poolverine x bisexual!reader)

summary: the worst wolverine comes from a universe very different from this one. a universe where things aren't as great for queer people. so naturally, he panics when you ask him if he has a crush on his roommate.

warnings: fem!reader, swearing, mentions of homophobia, self-hatred/internalised homophobia from logan, logan has a crush on wade and reader does too

series masterlist - my masterlist

golden light streams through the windows, only occasionally broken by a shadow when a particularly strong breeze passes by, making the curtains dance. you’re cuddled up in bed with logan, bodies pressed together, a tangled mess of limbs, your legs thrown over his lap, a book long abandoned at your side - you find it much more interesting to trace the lines of his face with your eyes, memorising him.

you’re passing the same words over in your mind, rephrasing them, hoping to find a good way to broach the topic. it’s not a conversation one typically has with their boyfriend, so there’s no preset script to follow, nothing to use as a guide. you worry at your bottom lip, and logan reaches up to pull it out from between your teeth the way he often does when you succumb to the bad habit. it’s the kind of ease shared by couples who have been together for years - it shouldn’t be this easy, this comfortable after a mere few months with logan, but somehow it is.

he knows something is bothering you, you’re not particularly adept at hiding it, but he’s allowing you the silence to find your words, even if it’s not at this moment or today or even this week, because you always tell him eventually.

“you’re very close with wade,” you say at last, deciding to gently approach the subject, as if dealing with a frightened animal, no sudden movements or sounds.

“i guess,” he grumbles in response. their dynamic is interesting, a constant back and forth, forever toeing the line between teasing and genuine arguing, the fighting - both physical and verbal - acting as a release of tension for the both of them. when you’d first met logan, he had been adamant that wade was merely an annoyance that refused to leave him alone, but he’s reached a point where he can semi-comfortably admit that he enjoys their relationship. 

you’re hoping this won’t destroy what’s between them, the precious understanding found in each other, an understanding that no one else will ever be able to give them. both cursed in similar ways, bodies healing from every injury, (mostly, probably) unable to die, craving violence and revenge against the world that has already taken so much.

“i don’t know how else to ask this. normally, i can find the right words eventually but it’s not really about me.” you continue, forewarning him that the line of questioning is abnormal, “do you like wade?”

the world stops for a moment; logan freezes in your arms, his whole body tense like an elastic on the verge of snapping, his eyes devoid of the soft happiness that had been aimed at you not even two minutes ago. you can practically see him rebuilding the walls you’d worked so hard to break down, his old emotionless mask sliding onto his face.

“why the fuck would you ask that?” his voice isn’t low the way it is when he’s genuinely angry, when his temper gets the better of him, when the natural predator that lives inside logan comes alive. it’s higher, a sign that there’s more than plain anger causing him to react this way.

you’ve seen logan in many states, several of which were terrible: covered in blood, clothes tattered from a fight, absolutely wasted out of his mind, furious. but this is new, anger and upset and pain and hurt and guilt, you can see so many different emotions flashing in his eyes, changing too fast for you to decipher any of it.

he pulls out of your arms, stumbling out of bed in his haste, pulling on a stray pair of jeans that had been left on the floor last night in your haste to pull him into bed with you. the empty air beside you is freezing, the loss of logan’s body heat palpable. you know about logan’s tendency to run, to leave when he felt too much, but he’d never before done it with you.

“logan-” you try to say, sitting up in bed, blankets a mess around you, your relationship seemingly in a similar state.

he’s shrugging on a shirt and sliding out the door before you can come up with the words to ask him what’s going on, to ask him to stay. he stops at the door of your bedroom, and for a moment you wonder if he’s changed his mind.

“don’t bring that shit up again,” he growls, “i’m not like that.”

the thing is, you’re quite certain logan is like that, as he’d put it. you’ve noticed his gaze catching on attractive men on occasion, lingering a little too long to pass as anything other than what it is. you don’t mind - being in a relationship doesn’t suddenly make you blind to the other attractive people in the world, and they’re always fleeting glances. when he looks at you it’s with a single-minded focus that had slightly scared you in the beginning, an intensity that read as if you were the only person in the world to him.

it’s most noticeable around wade, not that you can blame logan for falling for wade’s eccentric charm when you’d done the same. it’s endearing to watch him, flustered and simultaneously pissed at himself for having that reaction when the merc flirts with him, making his quips a little sharper than usual, though wade always knows how to respond.

(one might think that wade doesn’t know how to respond to logan’s irritation, since many conversations between them descend into bloodshed, but the truth is that when wade says the wrong thing, it’s often on purpose. he knows which buttons to push to get logan truly riled up, and he thinks it’s hot when logan stabs him.)

and besides, you doubt someone truly straight would have that extreme of a reaction to the question, the insinuation made with it. maybe he’d have been disgusted, made a few comments about how he’s only into women, potentially also sharing a few borderline-homophobic quips, but running away? that signals fear.

you can’t go to wade, not willing to break logan’s trust. you’re not in the business of outing people, though you strongly believe wade already knows. he may act like an idiot and jump headfirst into dangerous situations without considering the consequences, but he’s observant, he has to be in order to be so good at his job.

it’s also very likely that logan has gone to wade’s place. there are really only three places where logan spends his time: wade’s (and technically logan’s, though he refuses to really acknowledge that) place, your apartment, and a very specific shady bar - though he’s tried to cut back on drinking lately.

you stay home all day, lingering in the apartment, hoping logan will return. you clean the entire house top to bottom, restless energy manifesting in a need to keep moving, keep doing anything to distract yourself from the way your blood feels like it’s buzzing in your veins. afterwards, you sit on the couch of your newly cleaned apartment and stare blankly at the tv as an episode of your favourite show plays.

you’re lost in your mind when logan does eventually return, barely able to hear the show over the rushing tidal wave of your thoughts. you’re startled out of your reverie by the sound of the door shutting, the shuffling of logan removing his boots, the clang of his keys in the small bowl you keep on a hall table by the entry.

he joins you in the living room, settling down on the couch opposite you, not touching but close enough to offer the comfort of his presence. your knees are tucked to your chest in your attempt to keep to yourself, a blanket pulled tightly around you, unsure which boundaries are in place during a moment such as this one.

“i’m sorry,” you say before he has the chance to speak, “i shouldn’t have ambushed you with a question like that. i just want you to know that i really didn’t mean anything negative by it.”

logan sighs, a pained sound, “i shouldn’t’ve left. i wanted to call you after, but i left my phone here. i’m still not used to having one.”

“why did you run, logan?” you ask, “i need to know what part of the question caused your reaction. was it the implication that you like guys? or wade specifically? or just anyone that isn’t me? because i wasn’t accusing you of cheating.”

his hands clench into fists, tightening and letting go, repeating the motion as a method of self-soothing that isn’t violence. he wants to bring out the claws, so used to being able to fight his way out of difficult situations. it’s been a long time since he’s dealt with his problems in a way that didn’t spill blood and his emotions through anything other than a bottle. communication isn’t his best trait.

“it’s different here than in my universe,” he tells you eventually, “i’d be killed if anyone found out i was-”

he stops, doesn’t say the word. he doesn’t have to, you can put the pieces together yourself.

so you wring your hands in your blanket, feeling the texture between your fingers, trying to shake off the nervous energy that always washes over you when you have to come out to someone, no matter how many times you’ve said it before or how sure you are that they’ll have a positive reaction.

“i am,” you say, “i’m bisexual. i like both. wade’s pansexual. he likes everyone, doesn’t care about gender as long as they’re hot and a little bit crazy, is what he told me. if you’re queer in some way, that’s great, and if you’re not that’s okay too. but you won’t be killed here logan, it’s legal. yeah, some people are still homophobic, you get looks or comments, but it’s largely accepted, at least in america.”

he leans across the barrier of space between your bodies, breaking the metaphorical line you’d drawn in the sand to pull you into his arms. he kisses the top of your head, his breathing shaky. he’s trembling, so lightly that you wouldn’t notice it if you weren’t holding him so tightly, his distress invisible to the eye.

“both.” is what he whispers in the sliver of air that still separates your mouths before kissing you deeply. it’s as much of an admission as you’re going to get. you don’t expect logan to become comfortable with his sexuality immediately, so used to the hiding and the guilt and the fear.

unlearning habits is hard, terribly so, and yet he’d managed to speak it into existence for you to hear. you return his kiss with equal passion, hoping to convey how proud you are of him, how nothing has changed between you, he’s still your logan, your stoic and dramatic boyfriend from a different universe that somehow stumbled into your life.

your lips meld together, soft and sensual, passionate but not rushed. it won’t lead to anything further, not tonight, not when you’re both still recovering from your respective emotionally challenging days. the tension you’d held onto all day, worried that you’d ruined the best thing in your life, falls apart under logan’s touch.

you hope your touch does the same for him, that with every brush of your hands in his hair he recalls your words, that he physically feels your adoration for him in the way you press your bodies together.

“but really, do you like wade?”

he groans, his flushed face the only answer you need. he’s not ready to do anything about his crush yet, can’t even say the words aloud, but you know and wade knows and logan knows. you’ll get there eventually, and you know the wait will be worth it in the end.

diversity december taglist: @raeinyourdreams @meetmypointlessaddiction @chubbyhedgehog @yxtkiwiyxt @isepod @dis-plus-fanfic-reblog-writes @deaky-with-a-c

bisexual reader: @spencerswh0r3

[six-eyed-samurai]

DIALING...

Silly reasons the Tokyo Rev Boys have dialed you for based off…actual reasons…people have called me for…

🌸Takemitchy calls you for conversation, which suddenly turns to school and "WAIT DON'T WE HAVE A TEST TOMORROW?". Obviously the both of you panic and whip out your books, meaning to study together via phone call but also simultaneously realize you've forgotten the topic...and which class it was for. The rest of the call is just sitting in panicked silence, punctuated with the occasional "We're so screwed."

🌸It’s canon Izana plays guitar! Do you ever think he writes his own songs as well? Maybe, and that's why he calls you in the middle of the night to tell you about it, wanna hear it, oh am I bothering you, it's fine you don't have to listen now (and you'll say “I SAID I'D LISTEN TO IT AND I WILL KUROKAWA NOW SING.”), any suggestions for improvements? And then somehow it spirals into the both of you doing your utmost best to be off key, off tune and completely ruin the song with as many voice cracks as possible.

🌸Chifuyu, bless his heart, calls you out of the blue with no prior warning, at an inconvenient time and scares you enough for a heart attack, but he doesn't realize it, too intent on forcing you to watch the latest anime trailer for the both of your favourite manga with him after you say you can't load the video. He’s downright scandalized, and in his defense he did text you about what he was going to do - only you hadn’t understood he meant call as in call now. I mean, at least the both of you got a kick out of it as he shares his screen, so win-win?

🌸I think Inupi would call you for no particular reason other than to be in your company. You both don't say much but somehow the call spirals to a three hour dial. Whenever one of you gets up you'll flip the camera to show the other where you’re going or what you’re doing. Inupi likes to think it’s like the both of you are having lunch together, doing that jigsaw puzzle together, doing the dishes together…it’s alright if you spend two thirds of the time in silence, your company is enough for him.

🌸Koko calls you for a venting session! He rants about the idiots he’s encountered, his worries, the gang, money problems, boasts on how much he’s made today, stuff he’s bought you, anything really. He knows he could’ve just texted you about it but it’s a lot more personal for him if you pick up and reply back talking, but occasionally he does feel bad he keeps calling you - although you assure him you love it! You do, really, because in turn you get to vent about whatever’s on your mind and Koko always has the best reactions (damn if that girl hasn’t been an absolute bxxch, nooo, she did what now?). He’s like a gal pal and a boyfriend combined.

🌸You’re the one to call Baji, actually, because it’s the only way to get him to study with you if you’re not free to go to his place. You put up with his complaining and force him to answer a bunch of quizzes. The study session goes great for the first half….then somehow you both get sidetracked when Baji says he’s bored and leaves to make yakisoba. You make him take the phone with him and it could’ve been romantic, both of you making noodles from your ends of the line! But no, Baji ends up getting distracted flirting with you and overcooks it into a mushy mess that has you gagging and hanging up on him.

🌸Ran and you call for normal-people reasons like chatting or studying, but more often than not Ran’s childish nature has him more interested in playing with the phone call’s filters (if let’s say you’re using apps like Instagram) and making you pose with him before screenshotting - by the way, you’re the one doing that, because Ran has TERRIBLE timing when it comes to taking photos. If there’s those filters that let you draw on your screen self, oh man does Ran love doodling moustaches, beards, cat ears, the whole gig. If you don’t call him handsome he gets pouty and threatens to hang up or leak that ugly screenshot of you when the phone froze from lag.

🌸With no apology to your ears, Sanzu will call you at 3 a.m. in the morning to either a) make the most terrifying/fart noises known to mankind or b) bombard you with meaningless philosophical questions that made you get out of bed and actually Google them. Of course he doesn’t do this all the time, mostly when he’s high as a kite. Yet you KNOW for a fact he’s sober that night when he suddenly dialed your number and when you picked up, dead silent until the most unholiest rendition of your favorite song is being sung (read: screamed) out. You yelp and hang up, but not before you hear him cackling.

🌸He’s the sort to honestly forget to call you but when he does Mikey makes the call drag on for hours because he has his ways of making you not hang up, but the times he DOES remember to call you is after you tell him no, you can’t eat twenty five dorayaki in one go, I’m not paying for that. He’ll be feeling petty and when he gets his hands on dorayaki he calls you for no other reason than to chew it as loudly as possible next to the microphone so you get the Mikey Premium Dessert ASMR. If you hang up he’s sending voice recordings.

[bwat5-blog]

Caitlyn and Violet: Hope

Spoilers For All of Arcane

So, I must apologize. I know some of you were probably hoping for my usual encyclopedic breakdown of the events that make up the story of these two remarkable women. And truth be told, I have started and stopped attempts at that very thing many times, trying to express why their story means so much to me, and my thoughts on why it will continue to mean so much to so many, as time passes...

If that highly detailed point-by-point is more your speed, I have done so for the both of them across various posts and appreciate that you would read any of this to begin with. But, what I would like to discuss in this, why I think they have come to really stick with me, is hope.

An angry orphan from Zaun, a naïve heiress from Piltover, their story is of worlds colliding. This is not a new idea, "Star Crossed Lovers", "Opposite Sides Of The Tracks"... there are countless examples. The thing that makes Arcane, and by extension these characters so wonderful, is that the characters are so... so much more than that. And they can mean so much more than that to each other.

That angry orphan contains a heart wounded beyond imagining, yet strong as steel. That naïve heiress contains the strength to both forgive those who have terribly wronged her, and to stand in the breach against death itself alongside those who follow her.

It is their journey to find and understand the worth of these hidden depths that make them who they are, both through their own strength and through the bond they form with one another. Vi's life, is to put it bluntly, over before Caitlyn meets her. Seven years in a brutal, abusive prison, not on record, with no indication Marcus ever would have freed her. Her entire life is spent fighting for survival, and dwelling on all that she has lost, until an enforcer, the symbol of everything she hates, offers her a chance. Offers her hope.

Caitlyn comes from a life of wealth and privilege, that is violently upended through her eye opening journey with Vi and everything that follows. She undergoes great loss, and great pain, and as she is swallowed that darkness we see the loss of hope in Violet and Caitlyn both. I have cited it a few times in discussions of the events of this story, but the lyrics from Hamilton's "Its quiet uptown" always return to me in times of thinking of both Vi's days in the pit and Caitlyn's as the commander.

"There are moments that your in so deep, it feels easier to just swim down"

Now of course, it is not simply the loss of relationship that drives both of these women into that lowest point. Nor is it solely the restoration of that love that pulls them out. But what they mean to one another, the promise of what might be... that is one of the central messages of this story. To let go of the darkness of yesterday, and embrace the hope of tomorrow.

After months apart, surviving great loss and tragedy, Caitlyn and Violet reunite on the ridge outside of Viktor's commune. I spoke on this recently, but I was confused at first during this moment. It seemed almost, comical. Caitlyn was so stiff, derisive. But then I remembered their first meeting:

Vi inside of her cell, the defenses she had built around herself as the cocky and brash inmate to hide her overwhelming pain on full display, and Caitlyn. Standing tall, apart, seeming almost to be having to make an effort to look down her nose at Vi. Until she finds out Vi had been abused inside that prison, that haven of the establishment she served, and steps over the line beginning a journey she never could have imagined would be so life-changing.

Thinking back on that, I realized what we are seeing is Caitlyn protecting herself. She has closed herself off to any possibility that the woman she loves could still care for her. Until she hears it... Cupcake... And in that moment thanks to the wonderful animation of this show, we see in her eyes, she knows that all is not lost. Perhaps things can never be as they were. But maybe.. there is hope they could be something new. Because even with everything she has done, Vi has not given up on her...

And it is when Vi's hope is failing... in Jinx, in Caitlyn, and in herself, perhaps in a way that she never would have recovered from, that Caitlyn returns to her in a prison cell. Offering that light that she once did, only stronger and more resolute. As she enters, Vi is in danger of falling into that darkness, lamenting that her belief in her sister has cost her everyone that matters to her. But Caitlyn comes to her, crossing the threshold of Vi's pain and it's not just that she relocated the guards, and set aside her hatred in favor of Vi's love. It's that she SEES Vi. She doesn't just trust Vi to make the right choice, but the worthy choice. Because she not only believes in Vi's heart, she honors it, she holds it as sacred, and in one simple action that could never be matched with words she shows Vi that her fierce love and hope in people is not a weakness, but her greatest strength.

Ultimately, after so much tragedy and pain, it is through fierce love, and hope without condition that they find their way back to one another. When I see them in the end, it is that hope that resonates me. They are broken, battered, grieving and in the midst of terrible loss. But their love has been through the fires of hell, and emerged. Stronger, and more real than it ever could have been. And it is with that bond in one another that they can move forward. The promise of tomorrow no longer a distant dream.

**Someone had the nerve to ask me why I keep using this gif. HAVE YOU SEEN THEM?!?!?**

Thank you for anyone who reads this. I know because of my own comments some were probably expecting the longer thing like I have been doing, but I just.... it wasn't what this needed from me. Anyway, keep standing up for stories that matter. Til next time.

[would-this-pokemon-be-a-friend]

How about Banette?

Man, trust me when I say it pains me to score ghost-types so lowly, seeing as it’s my favorite pokémon type. But alas, a banette, being a being whose sole reason for being alive (undead?) is revenge and torment, specifically of children, and even more specifically a single child.

But before I get into it, banettes are a great size to be a pet. At three and a half feet tall, they’re on the bigger size as far as house pets go but not to a completely unreasonable level. Looking at those stubby legs, we can tell that these pokémon probably don’t spend a lot of time running around or climbing, which makes their space needs pretty straightforward. Wild banettes spend most of their time creeping around in dark alleys and garbage dumps (Emerald, Scarlet), but this seems more out of necessity than choice (there’s nothing tied to their health and darkness, from what I can tell). The issue with banettes come down to their personality, which comes from their curious origins.

Banettes don’t seem to be a traditional biologically-derived species, rather arising from an inorganic source… probably. It’s very confusing. What we do know for sure is that each banette originated as a child’s doll that was cast away and forgotten for one reason or another, which has become a living pokémon. Most pokédex entries report that banettes are brought to live by being possessed by an obscure, cursed energy (Ruby, Sapphire). In these entires, it seems like this spiritual energy is the real creature, with the physical form we see being nothing but a puppeteered shell, since the spirit is released instantly if the banette’s mouth is ever opened (Sapphire). However, there does seem to be some sort of symbiosis between the is conscious, cursed energy and the inanimate doll itself. It’s confusing, like I said. According to some pokédex entries, “strong feelings of hatred” are what animated the object (FireRed/LeafGreen). My best guess is that the spirit that inhabits the doll is taking part in some sort of role-play, offended on the behalf of the doll for being abandoned. Regardless of the reason for banettes’ resentment, this feeling drives their behavior in a not-so-good way.

Banettes spend most of their time stewing in their feelings of hatred towards the child that lost them as a doll, seeking them relentlessly to get their revenge (Emerald, Diamond/Pearl/Platinum). This isn’t a great starting point for a pet’s behavior. If my pet spent most of its time conspiring how to find a random child I don’t know to do know-knows-what terrible things to them, I would find it… difficult… to say the least. Now, can you soothe a banette’s vengeful feeling? Technically, yes. According to the pokédex, a banette that is cared for and treated well will cease their vengeful mission, which is great, but they also sort of cease being; Once a banette has reached a certain level of peace, they become inanimate once again (Ultra Moon). It doesn’t take a lot to read between the lines: a well cared for banette won’t be a pet for long.

We’re obviously already on shaky ground, and we haven’t even talked about how dangerous banettes are. They can use all the classic potentially-lethal ghost-type moves we know and love, like Curse and Phantom Force. This is no good. If a banette gets mad at you because you, for example, prevent them from hunting down and harming a child, it becomes a pretty serious threat.

Overall, banettes just aren’t a good fit for a house pet for many, many reasons. I would only recommend that someone take a banette into their care if their goal is to soothe it and bring it peace, not as a pet but as a therapy patient. Do not adopt a banette as a pet, please.

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

3 - An Intrigue Drenched in Blood

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader (Slow Burn), Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader

Length: 8.6k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, animal death, discussions of child murder and infanticide, brothels, blood and violence, slight canon divergence

Notes: Previous Chapter Here, Things pick up from this point on, I assure you. Series Masterlist Here.

Bright and noisy was the state of Kings Landing as knights poured in from every corner of the most populous cities. All with their shiny armour and polished bravados like they were every bit of confident that they would win the winning gold and glory. They were never your kind of attraction even in your younger years here. The play fighting that so many of these men staked their life on, and of all the days to miss it was yesterdays which had the worst of action.

Not allowing the chance to even truly approach for a question, Ser Gregor Clegane otherwise known as The Mountain had speared the newly knighted Ser Hugh with a lance right through the throat. A space in his armour seemingly perfect for such an action and it felt hard to believe that it was nothing but a coincidence. Nothing in this city was a coincidence anymore it felt.

Walking towards the stands you passed by where curiously your King uncle was absent from his seat. Not a man to miss a spectacle you toyed with the ridiculous notion that he would ride in the event. Even now you could recall a time when you were thirteen and a tourney was on just like this one, you had stopped by the tent King Robert was in and admonished him for being so foolish to join.

It was easier to be comfortable with him in those days. You were sat up on a table, popping grapes into your mouth as you casually would remark that not only would no man dare hurt the King even in jest, but that the armour he was trying to fit in was about fifteen years too small. Were you not so close, he might have gotten you in trouble for such a comment. You couldn’t imagine even having a conversation with him that would allow for fun now.

The King was less miserable, and typically more reasonable and sober back then and you were still full of a youth like pep in this city. You still had the urge to explore the nearly fifty miles length of tunnels hidden about by the former dynasty and the pretty colours, bright sun, and vast diversity of lords and ladies impressed you. You still could walk into this city with a smile, unlike now. Maybe it was the loss of a childhood trait, or more realistically it was the adult understanding that this was a dangerous place and you’d be a fool to think otherwise.

You still wore the pretty dresses, and entertained the noble daughters whom were some degree of friends but the spark was gone from your eyes despite it all. This place and it’s people no longer giving you joy, instead just now a place of bloodshed and the tediousness of cleaning up after your King’s messes. No wonder your fathers scowl had deepened the lines in his forehead so much, you were beginning to think you’d return to Robb in Winterfell, stress having doubled your age on him.

Spotting Renly, he gave you a closed mouth smile of surprise as you pulled your skirt upwards to climb the steps before flattening it all out as you sat next to him. His voice was as light as ever, not that you expected much. “When you asked if I’d be here, I didn't actually expect you to show up. I thought this wasn’t your kind of thing, my dear niece.”

Tilting your head with a slight grimace you relented. “No, I can’t say I see the great appeal in cheering about men whose claims are they are young and very good at knocking men off horses with a stick.”

Nudging you with his arm, Renly smirked. “Shame, you could do with some fun in your life, shake up the terribly boring personality my brother passed onto you.” Glaring with only a flicker of your eyes to the side, you felt back a slight smirk as he just sauntered onward like nothing. “I hope for Robb Stark’s sake you aren’t such a rigid, bore in bed as well. Last thing one of those northerners need is less enthusiasm in their personal lives.”

Rolling your eyes, you took a breath before just passing him onto the truth. “I promised Shireen I’d go see a tournament, so I can write to her all about it.” You dared not look at him, knowing it was something unjustly vile about her on his tongue.

You think you could see him shrug somewhat beside you. “At least it gets you out for once, you and Lord Stark seem to be working way too hard for a King whose never going to thank you for it.”

Watching the very man approach, he nodded with an unblinking stare for just a second before sitting next to his daughter. No one thought your jobs, certainly not Hand of the King’s job was done for the sake of thanks. Not when the King had attended maybe two or three small council meetings over the course of the six years you’ve been sitting in on them to some degree.

Squinting in the bright sun, you shrugged with an otherwise flat expression. “Someone in this family should do the hard work for once, I may as well take over that mantle.”

Chuckling, Renly and yourself glanced over to the King making his own way to his seat finally, the bumbling sack of nerves and apologies that was his squire following suit with the wine. “Don’t be so harsh on our King, takes a lot of energy to fuck as many whores as he does at that age.”

The contenders next begun to ride up. Ser Gregor large and as brutish as ever on a large yet skittish black horse that seemed to be as unsettled as many felt looking at the man. On the other side, dressed in a bright and ornate armour with poise was his opponent. Curls atop his head neat and styled and a rose in his hand as he looked towards the stands near where you sat, for a subject to give it too.

Settling on the young redhead in the front stands a few rows from you, you could see the elation in Sansa’s shoulders as she gently accepted it. “Thank you, Ser Loras.”

Unnoticed to her as he took steps away, glancing up to the rows where you sat he glanced with a pointed glint in his eyes. Renly did not respond, but the words were there as there was solidarity in your silence. You would tease your uncle as he would you, but something between the dynamic you two had build up seemed to have been discussed in the men’s private affairs. Your teasing was never meant as anything but fodder for banter.

The shared look was not romantic, but they tended to stay away in public due to image. Much of the court knew about Renly, you weren’t as sure many, if any at all, outside of the small collection of whisperers, knew enough to say the same about the son of Mace Tyrell, heir to Highgarden.

In the seat below you and one above the two Starks, Lord Baelish turned with a jaunty grin. “A hundred gold dragons on the Mountain.”

Renly beside, did not hesitate. “I’ll take that bet.”

The two knights made their way to each side of the procession as the lower man begun to brag of his confidence. “Now what will I buy with a hundred gold dragons? A dozen barrels of Dornish Wine, or a girl from the pleasure houses of Lys?”

With a quirk of your eyebrow, you glanced at him. “You could even buy a friend.” The reaction was as satisfying as such a man could emote. A smile as if he knew a secret you didn’t and it only reminded you why bothering to speak to him was so grating. Lord Baelish not allowing for a moment to let another get the one up on him even in words he always felt compelled to have the final look, the final say.

The trumpets sounded out, both riders finally going towards the other as it only lasted for a mere moment. Loras’s Lance striking Ser Gregors shield and pushing him back. The large black horse fumbling in it’s steps as it fell into the wooden railings and knocking the large knight himself to the ground. The crowd cheering with delight as you felt the pride next to you.

Pride in both energy and voice as Renly shouted down smugly, “Such a shame, Littlefinger. It would've been so nice for you to have a friend.”

Standing up and turning to face you both with a quieter tone and a wider smile, you felt the creeping below your skin with a narrowing of your brows. “And tell me, Lord Renly. When will you be having your friend?”

Both of you said nothing, but the glares spoke many things all at once that the man only found amusement in as he turned back. You and Renly glancing at the other for only a moment of seriousness before you glanced back to the waving Ser Loras at the people. “Dare I ask how much gold you two are playing around with to come up with that little stunt?”

Renly laughed, the one thing about you that separated from your father is that you didn’t have to lecture to disprove. If the rich wanted to play with their money like jesting boys, you’d just let them it didn’t matter to you. Leaning in to whisper closer to your ear, “To be fair my dear niece, it wouldn’t have worked as well on any other horse. A man’s animal is only as wild as it’s owner they say.”

The next words didn’t come out of your mouth, as the sounds combined with what image flashed in the side of your vision gathered a mix of yells and stunned silence. Ser Gregor at some point having acquired his sword, took it through his horse’s neck in a single slice. The anger in him wild and untamable as he turned on his opponent, knocking Ser Loras to the ground only just missing from by strikes to his shield.

Both you and Renly standing at the action, Loras was good, but not good enough for that. Strike once twice, enough that you felt the bubbling anxiety in your chest before a growling voice came down from that of the King’s Stand to leave him be.

Striking his sword against his before each pushed away from the other, brother against brother stared the other down in a hatred that spoke more about themselves then it did defence of another. Ser Sandor Clegane, the brother of the giant Knight in front of him with half his face burned in a sear of fire for life. Half the hair on that side barley able to cover it beyond the strands coming from the top of his head that weren’t destroyed.

It wasn’t of any interest to you, nor did it matter, but you recall learning what such a mark meant and how it happened. The two now clashing swords, your eyes narrowed and your nerves grew tense in your muscles. This would get out of hand until more bloodshed arrived but only one man dared to interrupt such a commotion.

“Stop this madness in the name of your King,” The roar from the stands as King Robert stood was strong and echoing. Ser Gregor taking a final swing as the other ducked the blow with a surprising grace as he bent down to kneel, sword stabbed in the ground with a bow of his head.

You felt Renly’s own nerves ease beside you as the Mountain threw his sword to the ground with a raging huff and stormed off. The King yelling to let him go as the crowd parted in a justified terror. The Hound was not a man you enjoyed associating with, found too much pleasure in the necessary harshities of life and considered you to be as aggravating and dull as he did your father. However, he did follow around your wretched cousin for most of his days and that would make anyone angry.

The crowd cheered for Ser Loras and The man most just called The Hound as the smaller and younger raised the others hand in the air of victory, you and Renly sitting back down slowly.

Glancing at him, you could see a brightness in his eyes looking at the proclaimed Knight of the Flowers, and you couldn’t see it within you to give anymore passing jests at the matter. His new close association with the Tyrells struck you as an odd choice, and it pinged a distrust in your brain but you in no way had let it effect what a terror that would be for him.

Renly wasn’t a fighter of any kind, you weren’t even sure he had ever held something longer then a stick to play fight with and certainly had never been hit hard enough to bleed. It’s scary to imagine that you are forced to sit there and do nothing as the man you love has a blade shoved into him.

You perished the thought, you dared not let yourself imagine anything for the two faces which struck you as the scariest.

Sighing to yourself as you walked through the Red Keep you were thankful for the silence, the handmaidens appointed to you were fine girls, good at their jobs, but they were also giggly and chatty and fussed over you a bit too much. Having to tell them day after day, “I can walk myself through the castle halls my ladies, I assure you.”

When you were younger, it was either one of your fathers household guards that would keep and eye on you, or another who wasn’t sworn to serve but seemed to always know when you snuck off. Ser Barristan was in the sworn brotherhood of the Kingsguard, but he took a liking to you the day you arrived in Kings Landing. Not quite good at holding your tongue just yet, but you were still serious and respectful like your father taught you.

It was one day he had been sent by the King to fetch his niece so he could spend some time with you that he came across the most unique of sights. A wide area of Lord Stannis’s quarters had been pushed up against the wall and he stood in the middle with you, only aged thirteen, with a wooden sword in your hand.

He watched for a while, seeing the clever instruction your father was giving you. Ser Barristan knowing your lord father to be a formidable opponent and one that he would not wish to fight on the other side of a battlefield. Yet it wasn’t that style which he taught you.

You were less hacking and slashing, and more about swift movements and carefully timed slices that would cut down faster then your strength could overpower. After that, it was he who often found his way to accompany you when the King had no immediate need of him.

Days like this, you almost missed that. You didn’t want the hen chatter of girls fussing over you like you were the princess but you did miss the company of those who didn’t see fit to treat you like a dainty doll. Sometimes you had wondered if your strange mix of ladylike properness and a tendency to more lordly tasks was because of your father. He gave you and Shireen a lords education and such teachings led you to other interests.

To many you weren’t ladylike enough, but it wasn’t as if you pretended to be anything but the highborn lady you were born as. You enjoyed the company of other women, you took pride in your appearance like many, but you also spent much of your days as a teenager being kicked in the mud and hit with wooden swords by three teenage boys that had no qualms of making you feel like you were fine at being both.

However, as you heard a groan of frustration and tiny pattering of feet scampering beside you as it dodged into the hall, you were met with an amusing sight. Arya was covered in a layer of sweat and grime as well as what appeared to be scratches along her forearms when she stopped. Bending forward to rest her palms on her thighs as she caught her breathe, only flinging back up in surprise when you chuckled.

Slowly approaching, you didn’t bother hiding a smirk. “Such a ghastly state of dress for a highborn girl such as yourself, Lady Arya.” Your chuckle bellowed to a much heartier laugh at how quickly she told you to shut up.

Coming closer to you, she plopped herself down onto a small series of steps as you carefully sat down to join her. “Syrio has me catching cats. If I can be quick enough to catch them, then I’m quick enough to move around my opponents.” You smiled fondly at her, exhausted and covered in scratches that looked unseemly like looking at your once self.

Glancing up, you kept your eye on the black cat hiding around the corner. Peeking it’s one ear’d head out occasionally to eye it’s chaser. “You’re smaller then a normal target. They’re stronger but if you’re faster then them, that’s how you get them before they get you.” When she looked at you with a curious question in her eye, you shrugged looking back to the black cat. “It’s what Jon told me when he started to teach me how to swing a sword.”

Looking up with narrowed brows she asked, “I thought your father taught you?”

Nodding, your fingertips started to tap at the other in a fidget. That memory was still clear as it was when it happened. “Sort of. You were just born, you wouldn’t remember any of it. But it was one night I couldn’t sleep and I ended up wandering into the training yard. I was fooling around with one of the training swords, no idea what I was doing at all. And before I knew it, Jon had snuck up behind me and hit me in the legs with one and I just fell to the ground.”

Arya looking a bit taken back, but you laughed. “We all used to rough house a lot more back then, me and your brothers. He and Robb were around fourteen or fifteen by that point, and I was twelve. So just shy of being too old to pick on girls anymore.”

Moving to tuck her knees closer to her chest she wrapped her arms around them. “So what, he hit you and then..?”

You mimicked the same position, “At first he joked that if I was going to play with swords I should at least learn to not turn my back unguarded. But then he asked if I really wanted to know how to use one.” Feeling far away, the girl next to you disappeared as well as the castle walls around you. “I think we met up after everyone went to sleep for three weeks straight. He taught me some basics, then realized I would learn a bit better if he didn’t teach me how to fight like him, but how to fight against someone like him.”

Smiling to yourself, it was during those nights all to yourself that had done you two in. You weren’t a lady in that moment, and he wasn’t a bastard. You were just you and Jon, your best friend guiding you how to fight simply beacuse you wanted to know and he wanted to teach you. You got roughed up a lot, in the privacy of the night, Jon certainly didn’t shy away from grabbing and throwing you around when you got too cocky.

“When I returned home, my father recognized what kind of cuts and bruises they were, instantly. I never told him who did it, I was scared he’d write to Lord Stark and Jon would get in trouble. But he never got mad at me. No, he figured if I wanted to learn and I already was, then he saw no reason to not continue himself.”

Those days you think were some of the last time you and your father so easily got along. He smiled and laughed during those lessons in his quarters, proud of his daughter so keen on learning the things that helped made him the Lord he was. You hadn’t seen your father so freely smile like the did on those days in a very long time. It was the last time he felt truly like your father, and not more like your Lord.

Lost in thought for more then you assumed, Arya’s voice startled you. “Does it bother you?” Glancing down at her, but she was looking at her feet not you. “Having to act like a lady when you want to do things the boys do?”

Considering for a moment, you saw no reason to sugar the truth. “For a while it did. When I came to Kings Landing for the first time, everyone treated me like a fancy highborn lady when both on Dragonstone and in Winterfell, people just treated me more like who I was already.”

Formality of such high luxury certainly was not common on Dragonstone. Being doted on and cared for like it was a waste of your effort to lift a finger that much was not the way of your father. You didn’t have so much done for you, that you forget what it means to earn your keep through your own means.

“But, I think I had to learn that it wasn’t being a lady that I didn’t want.” Glancing down to her, who now was looking at you with wide eyes. “It was just that I didn’t want to be the kind of lady people like the Queen wanted me to be. I’m nothing like Sansa, but I’m as much a lady as she is.”

Arya looked away quickly, a flash of long hurt in her eyes that you knew stemmed from a sister who didn’t treat her well. “My father wants me to be like her.”

Not even a second hesitation did you spend, “He doesn’t.” Turning to face her properly, you called her name firmly. “Arya. Fathers will always want things for their children, things that they have no way of knowing what we’d like about it or not. He’s not a mind reader, he can’t see the future you want for yourself and sometimes accepting that it’s different then what he envisioned takes time. But he adores you, and he would never tell you to be someone you can’t be.”

Running a hand over her hair, you could feel her trying not to lean into it. Trying to look impassive instead of upset as you continued. “We’re not all going to get the future we dreamed of, but that doesn’t mean your father wouldn’t support your choices no matter how different from Sansa’s they are at the end of the day. He went out of his way to hire Syrio to teach you something he first said wasn’t for girls. He wants you happy, even if it doesn’t lead you to the future he wants or you want.”

“Like how you didn’t get the future you wanted?”

Taken back, you didn’t understand her words but there was no anger or judgment in them as she elaborated. “You didn’t get to marry who you wanted, but every time I see you writing or opening a letter Robb sent you, you still smile in the same way my father does at my mother.”

Not in these open walls would you broach that. Not sure of what she knows or suspected or if you were just projecting onto her. You smiled, and your next words echoed the very thing Jon told you would be what was in store for you. “I’ve known Robb since I was eight. He’s easy to fall in love with.”

Your lips remembering his, and how easy it was to let his touch and his deep words make you lose yourself in him. But also the boyish grins whenever he teased you, the lack of worry you had knowing you could say anything to him and there’d be only support. Even before.

Somewhere in your heart was something far different that needed not thinking of now, or even if you had to think long enough to be real with yourself. But it was locked away for a reason. You couldn’t take that feeling with you, you had to let it go in order to give Robb who you really were. Not just pretend.

That part of your heart, had been captured protectively by the other. That part of your heart now sat heavy alongside that of the wolf who took it with him. That part of love was tucked away safely at the Wall with the one who insisted you not take it with you. You were with Robb now, and no matter what one part of you said, the other part of you yearned to see Robb and actually be happy. You did want it.

“Sometimes the things we want, aren’t the things we originally asked for. But that’s part of duty, how to be just and firm in our choices. Whatever your duty becomes, you have to learn to want it. Otherwise it’ll just eat away at you.”

Glancing up, you saw the little tomcat start to inch away down a stairwell, pulling a smirk as you nodded your chin over to it. “I hope you really want that cat, Arya because he’s about to bolt.”

Her head whipping up, you watched her leap to her feet sprinting down the hall as the little black cat sprinted off faster. As Arya grumbled loudly, you laughed freely.

Much true of words, you didn’t come here wanting to be wrapped in the tendrils of liars and spiders, but as you entered Lord Stark’s room? The very spider sat in the seat across from him, his face somewhat less apprehensive as it was you who entered, not one of mistrust. “My lady.”

“Lord Varys.” You did not sit int he seat beside him, coming to the end of Lord Stark’s desk and leaning back against the wall closest to it, arms crossed as you and him shared a look. His eyes steady and serious as you nodded. “Am I interrupting?”

Cordial and showing no intent, yet he never fooled you. “Not at all, in fact it makes it easier to share such sensitive information while you both are here.”

Lord Stark stared intently at the man, trying to gauge just as you. “Lord Varys seems to think the Kings life is in danger.”

“Oh I don’t think, Lord Stark. I’m afraid I know.”

Your posture couldn’t be more uptight and rigid as your stoned face, but you found no patience in playing nice as Lord Varys did. “Are you speaking of the same kind of danger that killed Jon Arryn?”

A slow nod, his voice was even as if none of this effected him. Despite his very presence and confidence of truth saying otherwise. “If you suspect Lord Arryn was poisoned, it would need to be one that was fast and utterly incapacitating if given the proper dose.”

“If we suspect?” Your emphasis on the doubt of we as in you and Lord Stark had Varys raise an eyebrow to you.

“I assure you my Lady, I don’t act on questions or doubts.” Glancing between you and Lord Stark he settled on what appeared to be the one who relaxed his trust more. “The tears of Lys, they call it. A rare and costly thing, as clear and tasteless as water. It leaves no trace.”

Lord Stark rose, pacing in thought towards the open air of his balcony. Your jaw clenching in consideration of the idea. What Grand Maester Pycelle had said, he seemed confident at first it must have been natural causes. If he didn’t sense a foul attribute then this ran deeply, did it not?

Asking who would give it to him, his voice was muffled as he still looked out to the city. Lord Varys playing such a game that irritated you. Telling you what you already know, but in a riddle to avoid any prying listeners to the subject. Never close to a man who says what he means. “Some dear friend, no doubt. But which one, there were so many. Lord Arryn was a kind and trusting man. There was one boy, all he was he owed to Jon Arryn.”

Squire to Knight upon his masters death, and yet once the master was dead soon was the squire turned knight. Something was tying up it’s loose ends but the ends of what? Lord Varys only saying whoever paid Ser Hugh would’ve been someone able to afford such a price.

His hands pressed against the top of his chair, the same yarns spun in Lord Starks head. You looked from him to Lord Varys. “Jon Arryn was Hand for over twenty years, why kill him now?”

Leaning forward, he spoke of something he knew the answer to and yet still forced you and Lord Stark to form more of that very thing on your own. “He started asking questions.”

There was no way of knowing how haunting this meeting would be to you one day.

The ferocity of your Uncle as he called a meeting of the small council himself told everyone whom didn’t already know the newest update, that something was about to explode. King Robert was the most blatant example of the fury of a Baratheon as any of you living now.

Something akin to madness was in his eyes as you watched him arrive, there was a calmness in both Lord Varys and Renly, a curiousness in Grand Maester Pycelle as he arrived and a difficult to read Lord Baelish who was the only other one present then Pycelle who didn’t know. As Lord Stark finally arrived, walking in you wondered how much of a unified front it appeared to be.

Niece and brother on both sides of the King Baratheon and a horrific message displayed. The only time your King uncle did not mince words, was now. Drenched in anger and vengeance that did not sit comfortably in your stomach. He looked at Lord Stark with all the vitriol he could, spitting out in anger “The whore is pregnant.”

Lord Stark hardly finding it in him to care for hiding his disgust but they fell on the Kings deaf rage.

It was like he didn’t even hear the man speak. “I warned you with would happen. Back in the North, I warned you but you didn’t care to hear. Well hear it now. I want them dead, mother and child both, and that fool Viserys as well. Is that plain enough for you? I want them dead.”

You hadn’t been born until two years after the rebellion ended, you’d never seen him in a place that wasn’t in times of peace and yet he ranted and raved as if all three of them were armed and blooded at the gates. This was not a man you recognized, this was a man who spoke of an unborn child with the same he did of Rhaegar Targaryean.

Lord Stark’s tone was deep, cracking with a shocked twinge at who this man was. “You will dishonour yourself forever if you do this.”

The fury grew louder as he spoke. “Honour? I’ve got seven kingdoms to run. One king, seven kingdoms. Do you think honour keeps them in line? Do you think it’s honour that’s keeping the peace? It’s fear. Fear and blood.”

Your father had a similar idea but never in a lifetime would it be in a manner like this. Lord Stannis felt that if people don’t fear you they won’t follow you. That if you can’t scare the wicked away then the good will not stick around to be picked off by what you refuse to pluck out. If you don’t pull the weeds out by their roots with determined force, then they will overtake the garden and nothing good will stay to grow between the rot.

Your voice was rough, as if your throat was scratched in need of water but it was hissed out without much care for hiding the feeling building. “Fear and blood isn’t far from fire, now is it?”

The King turned to his left to look at you, but you did not flinch back at the rage nor the spitting words from his mouth as he said your name. “Careful now. You’re my niece but you watch that.”

“You’re chasing shadows twenty years removed, shadows you can’t even be sure are real.”

Lord Varys far calmer then the other member still glaring your way. “My lady, you wrong me. Would I bring lies to the king and his council?” You both stared at one another, and in just a brief moment so quick you could’ve imagined it, there was a flash of something in his eyes.

Something like what he found in yours unsettled him. The way you know for a fact, he had looked at Lord Stannis many times over. Lord Stark asked who even provided the information. The spider’s answer did nothing but leave the wolf and little stag unconvinced. Or you supposed, given the calm manner which Renly refused to challenge and the true fury in the other?

Perhaps the two unconvinced members of this council, were indeed two wolves.

“Jorah Mormont. He is serving as advisor the Targaryeans.” You huffed a breath of disbelieving laughter at such a spy. As Lord Stark looked as unimpressed, he himself having much more direct reason to press to them that he wasn’t to be relied on.

“Mormont? You bring us the whispers of a traitor half a world away and call it fact?” Lord Baelish trying to reason that being a slaver is not the same as a traitor and yet only traitors would betray their loyal family and flee across the sea to escape whatever sentence justice demanded from him. You took no part in entertaining slave traders.

“And if he’s right?”

Glaring once more at your king, “And if she miscarries, if the child dies in infancy? We do not plan murders based on a whispers of what if, your grace.” Your name spat once more but you did not hear. “You mean to fear someone who doesn’t even exist yet so much, that you’d murder it in their mothers womb and call that anything but that of a coward?”

King Roberts face almost red from fury as he once again hissed your name. “I told you to watch yourself or have you forgotten who is king here?”

You stared at him as still as possible, not recognizing this as your uncle. This King was a stranger.

“No, your grace. Have you?”

Lord Stark speaking up before the King took a chance to raise his voice so loud it booms through the seven kingdoms. “The Narrow Sea still lies between us. I’ll fear a Targaryean child the day the Dothraki teach their horses to run on water.”

Looking in shock between you both, he yelled at the others to talk sense into you two.

Lord Varys took his chance, looking to Lord Stark notably as opposed to you both. “I understand your misgivings, my Lord. It brings me no joy delivering this news to the council. It is a terrible thing we must consider, a vile thing. Yet we who presume to rule, must do vile things for the good of the realm, however much it pains us.”

Grand Maester Pycelle took his reasoning, a rational approach to a fruitless endeavour. “I bear this girl no ill will, but should the Dothraki invade, how many innocents will die? How many towns will burn? Is it not wiser, kinder even, that she should die now to tens of thousands live?”

Tell that to the unborn child you refuse to give a chance, you thought to yourself.

Renly finally spoke, and you felt that weight in your chest plummet down and slam you hard into the floor. “We should have had them both killed years ago.”

Your eyes blazed as you looked at him, across the table. His were with no guilt even. Of course, the brother handed everything he did not earn nor deserve by the brother he now sat beside advocating for what he sees as the least amount of effort for the most unfair of results. Lord Baelish spoke somewhere to your left but you did not break your eyes from Renly.

“When you find yourself in bed with an ugly woman, best close your eyes and get it over with. Cut her throat, be done with it.”

The men here all sickened you but none as vile as Lord Baelish. Not even King Robert’s rage made you feel as if you were covered in the slime from a swamp from his voice alone.

Lord Stark looked his old friend right in the eye. “I followed you into war, twice. Without doubts, without second thoughts, but I will not follow you now. The Robert I grew up with didn’t tremble at the shadow of an unborn child. I will have no part in it.”

“You’re the Kings Hand, Lord Stark. You’ll do as I command or I’ll find me a hand who will.”

Lord Stark’s only action, was to look his friend in the eye as he pulled off the pin of his position, and tossed it onto the table as it landed with a clunk. “And good luck to him. I thought you were a better man.”

The yelling went on for some time. Not a single one of you with the capability to have him calm his fury and the unravelling of what once made him a King fell before your eyes. As some finally begun to leave, you sat in your seat before projecting loudly. “Your grace? A word?”

Room emptied out, he turned to you. His voice quieter but not without it’s rage. “You have a lot of gall to speak to your king like that, girl.”

Not moving an inch your eyes blazed towards him with a narrowed brow. “Speak to you like what? Like you’re a coward afraid of an unborn infant?”

“A coward-”

Slowly pushing yourself up, you braced your palms on the long table. “Tell me, your grace. What happened the last time a half Targaryean babe was murdered along with their mother? How well did that serve us in the long run, or I am I just supposed to assume that House Martell has forgiven all of that?”

King Robert stormed closer, leaning his fists much like you did your palms. With a tilt of his head you felt as if he somehow still towered over you. “They were that son of a bitch’s own children or did you forget that too? You’d have them alive now and walking around doing gods know what just beacuse doing what needs to be done isn’t honourable?”

“This isn’t about honour,” Your own voice finally rose to a proper shout and your uncles head jolted back as his eyes widened for a moment. “I’m talking about justice. You aren’t an honourable King for doing this, but you’re certainly not giving Lyanna justice by murdering women and children who’ve done nothing.”

“She hasn’t been done right by until every member of that family is dead-”

He leaned forward and so did you. “You served her justice. You killed Prince Rhaegar at the Trident, you were the jury and executioner for his crimes and blaming those who weren’t even there or alive for it has nothing to do with Lyanna and you can’t serve a just sentence for something that isn’t even close to have happened yet.”

You weren’t fool to think you got through to him, but he was lost in thought for just long enough for you to find the limit of your handling be reached. “Don’t do anything to people who haven’t proved a harm to you. That unborn child is someone you’ve never met, you have no idea what they could grow up to become, uncle.”

Passing by, he was simmering down as you were when you stopped beside him. “I’m not even telling you what to do about the girl. You choose to kill her, and just her I will not argue. But you cannot punish an infant just beacuse they have drops of Targaryean blood somewhere in their veins. You have no idea what that child could turn into, and if they are a threat? Then we serve out that justice. But only when justice is required.”

You got to the door before he spoke, voice raised to catch the distance as he turned to look at you.

“It doesn’t matter what you two do. If I won’t give it to him, I won’t give it to you.”

You shook your head, a sad sigh breathing from your lips. “I wasn’t asking for it, your grace. And with all due respect, I’m not just your niece. I’m his daughter. Not yours. I wasn’t raised to think you were ever in the right towards him.”

The door which closed behind you sealed you and Lord Stark inside. You have to admit, there was nothing more of a bizarre shock to the day this had been, then being told Lord Arryn and Lord Stannis had visited this brothel together. You father alone being here was enough to conjure an image of him that you wondered how rigid and emotionless you came across to these woman as he likely did.

Lord Baelish had urged you and Lord Stark to visit his establishment, to see the last person Jon Arryn visited before his death.

The girl in front of you, her name Mhaegen, was little more then a child. Younger then you, but you doubted with your heart that were you to ask Lord Baelish how old she was, that he’d give you an honest answer. In her arms, was a stunning baby girl.

Bright green eyes, already the makings of a strong face of dark hair and once more a ping inside you clung. Two actually, but the first one was how much of a Baratheon this little girl was. “She looks like him, don’t she, My lady? She has his nose, his black hair?”

You stood slightly in front of Lord Stark, running your finger down the girl’s cheek. She looked so much like Shireen did at that age, you wondered if you held her, would she yank at a stand of your hair until your head was leaning cuddled against hers. Something your new baby sister had loved to do when you could still hold her at that time.

But this baby wasn’t just a reminder of your sister, it wasn’t even a clue of mystery about how this all connected to Lord Arryns death. No, you were looking at this baby girl, your raging Uncle’s bastard daughter and you were stunned by this was your cousin.

This small girl was your cousin like Joffery was, and yet this girl smiled weakly as you tickled the side of her neck with a coo and a smile. How many of them were in this city alone? How many of them didn’t have a clue that they belonged to a family that could give them life outside of the poverty of flea bottom?

Lord Stark stepped up beside you, as the no doubt teenage girl looked to him. “I named her Barra. Tell him when you see him, my lord. If it pleases you, tell him how beautiful she is?”

Lord Stark said he would, but you both knew it would not matter. The King barley had any love in his heart shown towards his own children, for as many faults as Queen Cersei had no one could doubt the love for her children was a real as her hair was blonde.

Children, babies, that meant nothing to the man your uncle had become.

“And tell him I’ve been with no one else. I swear it my lord. By the old gods and the new. I don’t want no jewels or nothing, just him. The King was always good to me.”

The gods have mercy what a web of lies King Robert had played this girl up to, to think he’d ever entertain her as more then something to warm his bed and little Barra as anything but a bastard to cast out beacuse highborns like the King had no use for anything that didn’t bear his name or his house’s titles.

Perhaps becoming a Stark was the final nail hammered in that deemed you not one of him anymore.

Lord Stark asked what it was Jon Arryn wanted, and to the only amusement you found that day, she looked almost worried she painted the wrong idea of him. “He wasn’t that sort of man, my lord. He just wanted to know if the child was happy. And healthy.”

He looked at the glee on the young mothers face at her babe, the longing and tragedy deep within your eyes barley hidden by a steel mask that weight you down. He ran his hand over the baby’s foot gently as he spoke, “She looks healthy enough to me. She’ll want for nothing.”

He didn’t have to pull you physically, but it seemed like tearing away from the girl was a cruel task. Just an infant who had a lifetime of poverty and neglect in front of her all beacuse your King Uncle had no taste for self decency. You thought too of the one in the armoury, Gendry. How learning of who his father was, would come as no comfort considering the sort of man Robert Baratheon was proving himself to be.

No child deserved to grow up fatherless, but perhaps knowing who they are could hurt or disappoint then thinking they were just a no one. Joining Lord Stark into the next room where Lord Baelish looked as relaxed as ever and you felt as rigid as ever.

It wasn’t such a place that bothered you, but it certainly was the eyes and ears of who owned it and for what. You wondered if there was even any women in this establishment who didn’t fuck just to fill Lord Baelish’s need for information.

“What do you know about King Robert’s bastards?” Lord Stark had asked him.

With a sly grin, it was impossible to tell which he looked at more. The proper Stark, or you. “Well, he has more then you for a start.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you pushed it down as far as it could go.

“How many?”

Lord Baelish glanced at you with no doubt this time, before sliding them back to Lord Stark. “Does it matter? If you fuck enough women, some of them will give you presents.”

Presents being children who will never feel like their apart of a world that respects them.

Lord Baelish gave you no answer as he walked slowly to you, Lord Stark, and the accompanying Jory to the door. Something inside you was screeching and yelling, like it had the answer to something you weren’t quite at yet. It made your heart pound, but it also set your blood alight like it burned. You didn’t know why, and yet what arrived outside for you was it’s own present that intended to ruin.

Members of the Lannister guard surrounded the area, standing two to one of the Stark’s own household guard their spears at the ready. All three of you slowly wandering into the streets slowly, your lips parted as galloping came forth until a horse with Jaime Lannister sat atop came by. “Such a small pack of wolves.”

He was not a foe you could beat, nor were you prepared for such at all kind of fight. Not truly. Jory using a calm reason to such aggression. “Stand back, Ser. This is the Hand of the King.”

The eyes on him were glinting with smugness but anger. “Was the Hand of the King. Now I’m not sure what he is, Lord of somewhere very far away.” Climbing off the horse, he paced every so slowly with a bravado only a true dangerous fighter could pull off like he could. “I’m looking for my brother. You remember my brother, Lord Stark? Blond hair, sharp tongue, short man.”

Lord Stark steady and calm as you were with a heart that wanted to strangle your lungs from within, “I remember him well.”

Looking to the side at nothing, there was as smirk that seemed to think the northerners cared to play such a game, or you for that matter. “It seems he had some trouble on the road. You wouldn’t know what happened to him, would you?”

He had done none of that, but Lord Stark did not go against his wife’s actions even for a single second as he declared, “He was taken at my command. To answer for his crimes.”

Lannister men shaking their amour as some reached for a better hold on their weapons as the lion pulled his. “Come, Stark. I’d rather see you die sword in hand.”

Moment of anger, or naivety, or just a helpless love you stepped forward with sharp narrowed eyes, “If you threaten my lord again-”

Lord Stark held a hand out, gently keeping you in place and by his side despite the lion pointing his sword with a smirk. “Threaten? As in, I’m going to open your lord from balls to brains and see what Stark’s are made of?”

“You kill me, your brother’s a dead man.”

It all happened so fast, Jaime turning to his own, “Take them both alive, kill his men.”

You had little on you, a small blade that you pulled from a pocket that fit in the palm of your hand almost. You sliced it at the weak softness on the Lannister armour of the one who approached you, crying out as blood split from the cut and you ducked to avoid his counter.

You were fast but it was against too many and a woman whom had no armour, only a dress, and no real weapons to speak off as the Stark guardsmen were taken out most by surprise. As you moved, almost punching into the neck of a Lannister one it punctured a wound enough to have him sputter up and fall to the side as Jaime Lannister shoved a small dagger of his own into Jory’s eye.

Stood in shock for just long enough that the rest were overwhelmed until it was them against the two of you. Lord Stark pulling his own sword, you were suddenly hauled backwards by two arms which didn’t feel like armour was behind them.

Lord Baelish’s voice in your ear as you fought against him was a whisper, “You’re far more useful alive then dead, my dear.”

You were not strong, something Jon, Robb and your father all trained to to keep in mind. Even a man like Lord Baelish could keep you as long as he tried harder then your muscles did, but you couldn’t. You watched the two men clash swords, Jaime confident and Lord Stark desperate. You had hardly seen the Lannister fight in person, but he must have been quite good as for the briefest of seconds?

Lord Starks sword pushing him backwards, his eyes flickered between the man and the weapon worried that there might be a possibility that he loses. Just as Jaime lost the upper hand, one of the Lannister guards stepped forward.

With a harsh push, stabbed his spear into Lord Stark’s leg bringing him to his knees. Already shaking, you gasped with what little breath remained as the hold keeping you from the fight loosened. Enough to slip your arm just enough to lunge back into the middle of his chest.

Jaime standing back in hesitation, watching as you rushed to his side, uncaring of the sweat and blood staining your arms and dress as you grabbed Lord Stark to keep him from collapsing entirely. He shook from the pain and blood loss, you shook from the shock and pathetic cry of how useless you were in a place like this gods forsaken city.

Jaime Lannister climbed atop his horse, turning in place as he gave you both one last look that radiated of both anger and something like a sympathy that you wished you could snatch away and shove down his throat until it choked him. “My brother, Lord Stark. I want him back.”

The City Watch had found you like that, a barley conscious Eddard Stark with a spear in his leg as you looked to the dead around you. Killed for what? In retribution of a man who tried to have a ten year old boy murdered twice?

The weakening look in Lord Stark’s eyes as he grew weaker, your lungs did not breathe nor did it feel like your heart ever stopped threatening to explode from your chest.

For a reason you could not explain, the sight or the light and angle making his appearance remind you so close to that of his son, you for a brief second imagined Robb in his place.

You didn’t understand why your mind conjured such an image, but you knew it horrified you all the same.

[commandershepardvasfuckit]

Kingsguard part 2

Part 1

M!troll x f!reader

2.3k words

Festivals are always a good time, even if you end up losing your friend and getting found by the last person on the planet you want to spend time with.

————

The open area in front of the hold had been almost entirely cleared out, instead a great bonfire raged in the center of the space, stoked by several orcs clad in ornate ceremonial garb. All around people laughed and cheered, drinks in hand, as drums played as others danced.

Bira led you around, explaining the festival and grabbing a drink while she introduced you to more people than you could ever hope to remember. You smiled and nodded politely, but felt too distracted by how awkward you felt in the clothes Bira had loaned you.

The pants she had given you were a soft, green material but were barely long enough to cover your backside. She had tied a skirt around your hips but the fabric only really covered your sides and butt and even then was only scarcely longer than the pants. Worst still was the top, a long length of gold fabric that she draped over your shoulders, crossed over your chest, then tied behind your back. The clothing itself was common, you had seen many troll, orc, and minotaur women wearing similar things over the weeks to cope with the heat of living in a city in the desert, but still have so much skin exposed was much more than you were used to.

As the two of you made your way around you spotted an imposing site across the fire: the orcish king and two guards in full regalia.

Even all dressed up you recognized Ba’tual at the king’s side. He donned the elaborately carved mask the jaguar god, the lord of shadows, elaborate pauldrons, greaves, and cuffs all in red and gold. Under the dark night sky the light from the fire played off his skin, scars more noticeable on his bare chest than usual, harsh shadows along the lines of his muscles.

You had come to an unfortunate revelation weeks ago: if it was not for his awful personality, Ba’tual would actually be quite attractive.

Trolls in general were not at all what you had been expecting. Stories came back to Brinedeep of terrifying blue-skinned monsters with tusks like animals who towered over humans, which was not an inaccurate description entirely, but did not give the full picture either.

A now disgraced scholar and historian once proposed a link between trolls and elves, claiming one group must be descended from the other, or possibly they both were descended from the same common ancestor. Naturally, he was laughed out of academic circles for such a preposterous claim, but looking at the trolls around you here you understood his line of thought.

The same high cheekbones and eyes as elves could be seen in the trolls around you. Their builds could be described as a taller, bulkier elf. While the trolls did not have the same small, dainty features as elves there sure was a faint resemblance you could not argue.

At some point Bira had wandered off from you, but that just gave you more time to get lost in everything. You happily explored all the festival had to offer; new foods, drinks, music, the sights and sounds, everything was new and exciting. Sitting down along the fire you nursed a cup of strong orcish alcohol, it burned terribly with every sip, but it also seemed like the only drink around.

“Whatcha got there?” you nearly leapt out of your skin from the sudden voice in your ear.

“Ba’tual!” you yelled, “By the light how are you always so quiet?”

He tapped his fingers against his mask before pulling it up so you could see his face, “The Lord of Shadows guides me, he keeps my steps light” he sat down next to you and took the cup from your hands and gave it a sniff, “That won’t do, it’s going to make you sick”.

“It’s fine” you protested.

“No, it’s orcish. If a cup or two can take down an orc it’s really going to mess you up, little human”.

Reluctantly you gave in, letting him sit the cup down on the ground.

“Oh don’t look so disappointed, if you’re looking to drink I’ve got something better anyways” he assured you.

Ba’tual quickly pulled a flask from one of the pockets on his belt, nestled between a variety of talismans, fetishes, vials of what looked to be blood, and other ritualistic items.

“Something got your attention?” he asked as he noticed you staring.

“Is that blood?” you blurted out.

He let out a rumbling laugh, caught off guard by your surprise, “Yes, it’s blood. This one is mine” he gestured to the smaller vial, “and this one is not” he pointed to a larger one.

Your face must have been twisted into a look of shock and concern as he rushed to elaborate, “It’s boar’s blood, taken from a recent offering, I promise”.

This did not make you feel much better.

“Blood will only work if it’s taken from the willing or from an offering. That’s why I use my own. But this isn’t a topic for a festival, here” he offered you the flask.

Tentatively you took it and gave it a sniff, the unmistakable burn of alcohol stung your nose, but it was not a bad as the orcish drink and at least this smelled sweet. You took a small slip, coughing as it burned your throat, but it was tolerable.

“Better?” he asked.

“Yeah” you said and took a good gulp of it before passing it back to Ba’tual. It was sweet and somewhat fruity even if it still burned.

The two of you sat quietly watching the festival and passing the flask back and forth, just taking in the ambiance. While your time here in Kor’mal had been nothing but enjoyable it had been all work until now, and it felt nice to just relax. Your face was warm and flushed red from the heat of the fire and alcohol, but it was nice. Looking over at Ba’tual you noticed even his cheeks were faintly tinged purple from the blue of his skin and flush of red on his face.

He shook the flask, only a little of it remained, and handed it back to you to finish.

“You look nice by the way” he broke the silence.

You felt even more blood rush to your face, grateful that it probably was not noticeable. “Thanks” you muttered, “Bira loaned me some clothes and jewelry”.

“It suits you” he stood up and offered his hand out to you, “Dance with me?”

“Oh, no, no, I don’t dance. Especially like that” you gestured out to the crowd. It was nothing like Brinedeep, at least like the events in scholarly circles you can been invited it, no ballroom dancing with precise steps to been seen.

“Everyone can dance, I’ll show you” he motioned for you to standup.

Hesitantly you took his hand. It felt strange in your hand, only two large fingers and a thumb versus your 5.

He led you to the edge of where everyone was dancing and circled behind you, “Don’t worry about what anyone else is doing, close your eyes if you need to, but only focus on this” he placed his hands on either side of your ribcage and gently tapped the beat of the drums, “and move with it”.

Slowly he guided you back and forth, swaying with the music, moving his hands to your shoulders once he felt you could keep time on your own.

“Now, lean into it with your shoulders, loosen up your neck too, let everything move together”.

You let yourself relax, let your body move in time with the drums and Ba’tual’s guidance.

“Good girl” he murmured in your ear, one of his tusks brushed your cheek, and his words made a warmth pool in your belly. He pulled you close against him, your back pressed flat to his chest and his hands drifted down to your hips, “I like these a lot, soft and round”.

Your heart raced as he moved you in time with his dancing, his face still lowered down next to yours, his tusk still brushing you skin as he moved.

It was a conflicting thing, feeling giddy and excited as he touched you, he was actually quite charming when he was not trying to show off or get your attention.

“You said something to Bira earlier, something in troll, what was it?” you asked, trying not to let your mind wander too far down the path it was on, anything to distract you from your current train of thought.

“That? Haha, I’m not surprised she didn’t translate for you. Are you sure you want to know?”

“Was it about me then?”

“Yes”

“Then I want to know” you said decisively.

He let out a low hum that vibrated through your body and you tried to ignore what that was doing for you.

“I told her that I love walking up behind you because I get a great view of your hips and ass, and if I was less disciplined I’d probably be hard from that alone. Oh, and I’d love to see that same sight bent over a table”.

“Oh” you said softly.

“Now that can’t be too surprising, don’t tell me I’ve been too subtle” he teased, “And don’t tell me you haven’t been curious about trying things with someone who isn’t human?”

You hated that he was not wrong. The thought had crossed your mind many times over the weeks, wondering how much of a difference it could be.

“Or maybe you’ve already had your fun, took a minotaur for a ride perhaps?” he continued.

“No, nothing like that”.

“No? That you haven’t tried anything? Or no that you’re not even curious?”

You stayed quiet, unable to admit to him that you really were curious.

“Because I’m very interested in fucking a human and I happen to think you’re incredible tempting” his hands wandered to the front of your bare thighs and he pulled you tighter against himself so you could feel his cock throbbing against your back “So tell me, am I really that bad of an option?”

“You’re insufferable” your heart was threatening to beat out of your chest. His touch on the sensitive skin of your thighs was almost too much, the way he kept you pulled close to him, the exposed skin on your back and shoulders against the bare skin of his chest. But his words, those were the worst. They way he had complimented you, the way he called you “good girl”, how forward he was with his desires, it lit a fire in your belly.

“And why is that now?”.

“You’re loud, annoying, crass, and overall just a cocky asshole with no boundaries. And Bira told me quite a bit about you”.

“Oh I’m sure she’s had a lot to say, all unflattering and mostly true, but for just one time, no strings or commitment am I really the worst you can do?” he murmured in your ear, “I’ll make sure it’s good, I promise”.

His hands wandered towards the insides of your thighs. You stammered, not being able to form words as your thoughts raced faster than your mouth could keep up with. “I don’t- it’s just- I”

He turned you around to face him, still holding you against himself. “I need a clear answer” he said as he placed a finger under your chin to tilt you face up so you had to look at him, “If you can look me in the eye and tell me truthfully that you aren’t even the smallest bit interested then I’ll walk away now. I’ll leave you alone, no more trying to get your attention, no more calling after you. But if the thought’s crossed your mind, consider me, even if it’s not now”.

It should have been so easy just to lie, to tell him that you were not interested in trolls, or, orcs, or minotaur. Or him.

You do not know why you never went to Bira or Zen’jan and told them that Ba’tual was being a nuisance over the weeks. He was loud, and cocky, and always seemed to startle you stepping out of the shadows, yet having his attention they way you did felt good. It felt good to be desired.

In Brinedeep you often felt overlooked, there was always someone smarter, from a better family, prettier. Thinner. You had no problems with who you were, but never being the first to be picked for anything weighed heavily over the years.

But now you had the attention of one of the personal guards of the king, someone accomplished, and important, and handsome not only to your human eyes but to most everyone else too. His reputation preceded him, both the good and the bad, as a fighter without match and as flirt who rarely bedded the same person twice.

That did not matter now though. You had no plans to stay in Kor’mal permanently, you would return to Brinedeep eventually with your research and assist with cataloguing your notes for the archivum. And it would be a shame to not experience all the city had to offer while you were here.

“Yeah” you managed, your voice barely a whisper.

“Yes, what?” he asked, leaning down farther, his face level with yours and his tusks brushing your cheeks on either side.

“I want to see what it’s like, with you” your face burning up, and admitting it loud sent a pulse of warmth down through your core and between your thighs.

“I’ve been waiting to hear that for a while”.

It was an awkward kiss that he pulled you into. Your face wedged between his tusks, unable to tilt your head much, still he swiftly parted you lips and his tongue filled your mouth.

He pulled away with a sly smile, “Not really a troll thing, you’ll have to help me practice”.

————

Part 3

[desire-mona]

siiiigh. todd autism headcanons because im projecting.

(using they/he/she pronouns for todd in this post. will explain but also if u dont agree i dont care, tw for alcoholism. time period is vague but autism hasnt existed as a legitimate medical diagnosis for all that long, so keep it in mind i guess.)

- cannot for the life of him stand welton's blankets. so itchy, just thin enough to not warm you up enough but still make you sweat, not long enough to cover your entire body. yes im making the blanket line in their poem about actual blankets, a boy needs to vent somewhere.

- beyond terrible temperature regulation, ALWAYS just a little too hot which is made worse by her sensory issues when it comes to wet fabric. constant slight agony and it never really goes away. theyre about 5 minutes away from crying about how uncomfortable they are at all times.

- had god awful handwriting until high school, like his teachers could BARELY read his handwriting it was Bad. OOOOOH OH MY GOD THERES A TRAIN GOING BY I CAN HEAR IT HONKING this is a really ironic thing to be pointing out rn but its sooooo worth mentioning. its still honking this is fun. 🚂. anyway. her parents made her spend an entire summer fixing her handwriting bc that was like the One thing her teachers criticised. its Fine now but their motor function simply doesn't deliver in the handwriting department.

- had a VERY INTENSE special interest in aquatic life + marine biology growing up, like read every book about any ocean animal in any library intense. his parents eventually forced him to abandon it because its "not a good career focus" but he still perks up when anyone mentions fish. once talked neils ear off about the biodiversity of coral reefs for roughly 2 hours, neil took her to an aquarium for their first date. rip todd anderson you wouldve loved spongebob squarepants.

- looooves pets, namely cats, but they have Too Sweaty hands all the time so any animal fur sticks onto their hands and just feels. so awful.

- had a brief period in his 20s where he was definitely an alcoholic, started as a social drinker but got too addicted to the feeling of not having to adhere to social conventions quite as hard, especially around other drunk ppl. eventually went sober after they realised they just Cant Stand the feeling of a hangover anymore. autistic ppl r more likely to develop a dependency on alcohol if we do start drinking. just btw.

- gets a Pretty Expansive vocabulary after actually starting to pursue literature. sometimes his family lightly teases him about using big words but it confuses the hell out of him. its just a word she thought would apply best!!

- soooooo obsessed with what other ppls idea of them is, both in an anxious way and out of genuine curiosity. would never ask ppl what they think of her bc she thinks thats 1) very broad 2) seems compliment fish-y and 3) just gonna lead to "i think ur great/ nice/ whatever filler compliment." but the dream is to sit someone (neil) down and just ask him every single question possible about how he perceives him.

- asks a billion clarifying questions about anything someone asks him to do, gets anxious about how many questions he's asking, tries to just figure it out, freaks out about the possibility of getting it wrong, ends up doing the thing perfectly. weekly occurrence.

- never fully grasped the appeal of religion (most definitely grew up catholic or christian or Something) just bc she could NOT let the lack of proof go. ALSO not an atheist bc the vastness of space scares them out of it. religious beliefs r a weird topic for them.

- suppresses a good chunk of his stims in public bc One total time someone looked at him weird while he was chewing on a sweatshirt string and he was like i gotta stop NOW. eventually develops tics and has to mask THOSE in public too. dear god someone let this girl unmask. also i started ticcing while writing that bc my body does this great thing where i only tic when im reminded of the concept of ticcing. its great and totally doesnt make me think im faking them (faking for who? dunno bc it usually happens when im alone)

- DOES in fact stim around neil bc NEIL STIMS TOO!!!!!!!! joyous day when they found THAT out! gets vocal stims of random lines from whatever play neil is practicing for. YEAA ART THOU THEEEEREE was a vocal stim for a solid week and a half which made neil VERY excited (autistic neil. how i love u autistic anderperry)

- velcro is The most evil vile disgusting material to ever grace this mortal realm. he hates it more than anything ever and i mean that fully. the feeling of BOTH sides, the noise, how easily it comes apart, she hates it all.

this is the gender part

never really viewed gender and gender roles as anything to adhere to beyond the fear of punishment if they dont. finds any social convention relating to gender to be Really dumb and meaningless, bc gender isn't (scientifically) real in any capacity, so why treat it like that? for the longest time just shrugged and said "eh, i guess im a boy" bc thats what she was used to being told, and didn't feel particularly drawn to agree OR disagree. eventually realised on a late night that Wait. i dont Actually care what i am. like yeah im a Male i guess but also im just me. my brain doesnt have a gender and i basically am my brain, right? and then never really thought about it again because that's genuinely how little he cares. adhering the most to canon with that mindset, she never really tells anyone (for obvious reasons on top of the overall apathy) and just lets the he/him happen to her but. in my dream world? agender they/he/she todd anderson. and this is MY blog so those are the pronouns im using from now on. i will forever love talking abt how autistic ppl very often view gender differently than allistic ppl, will forever love talking abt how autistic ppl are more likely to be trans. autism!!!

also yes that entire paragraph is just my view of gender, change the pronouns and the todd mentions and its just me. what of it.

[bad-as-me]

Morgott for the ask meme!

hell yes my boy!!

favorite thing about them

Honestly, Morgott covers the bases for a lot of things I'm weak for in a character. I love a guy who is so single-mindedly devoted to a cause, especially one driven by a need to be loved, that the rest of the world and their own well-being falls apart in the process. Something about the inherent tragedy of someone choosing to die on a hill that nobody asked them to take on, that would really be in their better interest to let go of and start anew elsewhere, and yet you want so badly for their efforts to be rewarded in some way because you know it's all for love.

It's just so terribly romantic in a gothic sense. He reminds me so much of the description of the creature in Frankenstein: someone that tried so hard to fit himself into the image of what his maker wanted, who speaks beautifully and eloquently in contrast to his rough exterior, who boasts an intelligence and a competency that was likely learned while hidden from society. And yet we know in both situations that effort will never be reciprocated.

Also, he growls and purrs and has a giant fluffy snow leopard tail. How can I not be obsessed with him.

least favorite thing about them

His big beautiful horns are so hard to draw :'(

Honestly, he's one of those characters where even his flaws are incredibly interesting to me. I like that he refuses to give up his position of power! It's something he worked so hard for, and to his mind must be the only way he can stay safe in a world that he knows wants him dead. I like that he can't let go of the status quo! As his Great Rune tells us, Omen or not he is the rightful Lord of Leyndell. By all standards of the world they're in, he has every right to be proud of that title. And given the alternatives he's likely had presented to him (Rykard, Mohg, the Frenzied Flame), why wouldn't he believe that this stagnant existence is the best he could ask for?

He's the immovable object to our unstoppable force. There's a nobility in his commitment to that, however misguided it may be.

favorite line

"We are all forsaken. None may claim the title of Elden Lord. Thy deeds shall be met with failure, just as I..."

I love his monologue in the beginning of his fight, but the fact that this is the last thing he says just tears me apart on so many levels. It really hammers home how much of his targeted spite towards us is him projecting his own sense of failure to his lineage. He crawled all this way through the mud, gave every drop of his accursed blood for the Erdtree, and it still wasn't enough. How could we possibly have a chance when all his efforts were for naught?

No matter how many times I replay it, I always take some time just to sit next to him after he says that, listening to the rain over the capitol and the somber song of Leyndell. The city really feels like it's in mourning at that moment, all for someone they hated too much to truly understand.

brOTP

Mohg and Morgott!!! The gruesome twosome!! The dynamic duo! Every piece of art or fic that depicts them having some brotherly squabbles and shenanigans brings a little bit of life back into my eyes :')

OTP

As far as canon characters go, it's gotta be Morgott/Oleg. We love a good knight/master ship around these parts, and I think he deserved someone as devoted to protecting him as he was devoted to his cause.

Outside of that, well. I am writing an ongoing fic of Morgott and my Night's Cavalry Tarnished (who was never a Tarnished but a secret third option, but you know.) I think about them a normal amount.

nOTP

Mohg/Morgott. I just want them to have one single family relationship in their life that is remotely healthy man 😭

random headcanon

He's good with animals, and prefers the company of them to people. Most of his communication to the Night's Cavalry is through carrier falcon, but if he needs to summon them all for a meeting, he can do so with an instrument that's very similar to an Aztec death whistle.

Also, he recanted his blood through the Church of Vows. Him and Miriel have a good rapport with one another.

unpopular opinion

Respectfully, I disagree with both the "Morgott is basically the Lands Between's evangelical gay republican" take, as well as the "Morgott is a soggy baby virgin who will cry if you give him a cookie" take.

I think he is a living contradiction in a lot of ways. He is simultaneously an accursed Omen, the lowest of the low, while also having tangible evidence that he is the child of a god and of a powerful bloodline. He has held Leyndell together for more than long enough both to be aware of its corruption, and to be in a position to change it, but he can't allow himself to believe any of it needs to be changed.

He is too stuck on the idea that he needs to uphold the way things are - to prove himself "better" than his curse - to change anything. This is directly contrasting his brother Mohg, who has made an entire cult around acknowledging the unjust suffering he went through.

Like the sealing of his blood into a sword, he represses that truth, until he is so broken down that it is released all at once - painfully and without control.

Because of this, I think he would recoil at the idea of being an object of pity. He has done too much to earn a respectable position for anyone to tell him that he deserves better - even if it's true, and he should be told that.

song i associate with them

Oh god I have a whole playlist of them. But if I were to narrow it down:

Sonne by Rammstein

Momma Sed by Puscifer

Romans 10:9 by The Mountain Goats

Helvegen by Wardruna

favorite picture of them

I am not exaggerating when I say this illustration by tendermiasma re-wired my brain on a fundamental level

[gingernut1314]

The Luck Child - Chapter 1: Superstitions of a Dying Age

Buggy x F!Reader

Summary: You are called back to Marine Headquarters after five years of working undercover within the crew of the Wild Wood Pirates. There, you are told by your superiors who they wish to grant the title of Warlord to and are assigned a new mission: join the Star Clown's crew and make sure he dies if he fails in his challenge.

Warnings: spoilers for the anime (Marineford Arc and onward), canon divergence

Word Count: 4.5K

A/N: This is done in collaboration with the wonderful @fanaticsnail and her Sapsorrow series--go read it if you haven't already!!! She also was brilliantly kind enough to beta-read this for me! And thank you @i-am-vita for creating the beautiful banner and storyteller collab masterlist!!

I actually haven't gotten to the Marineford Arc yet so please forgive me if anything is not completely right. I tried to leave things very vague for that reason but the events surrounding Buggy were just too perfect for this series! I hope you all enjoy!

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“Not so long ago, in the depth of the Grand Line, where it is so cold, that very cold is considered quite warm, two cold hearts shadowed over the land. One beat cold in a cruel government, the other in a terrible beast: The Griffin. And it happened in a week with two Fridays, that the cruel government heard of a prophecy.” 

The halls of Navy Headquarters were lit like they had allowed the very sun into its walls. No shadow graced its well-maintained halls, not even the likes of your own shadow to accompany you into the awaiting meeting hall. A meeting hall whose doors, which swirled with silver detailing, towered over you like some great, twin titans as you came to a stop before them. 

Titans. 

That was who sat, waiting for you behind those doors. Titans whose very will had sent for you days prior. Who had nearly torn the very delicate position in the pirate crew you had infiltrated to shreds. 

The Wild Wood Pirates; a pack of wild women born from chaos and blood. Women whose power almost rivaled that of the Kuja Pirates and their Warlord Captain. They were a threat to the world government and all who bent the knee to their will. 

A threat the government had not taken to so kindly.

Sending the Snake Princess of the Amazon Lily herself to destroy these wild women had been one of the many ideas sprung to deal with the hardened villains, but your superiors had thought of a different approach--a better, more calculated, and…gentler approach.

Spy on them. Become one of them. See how they slipped from the watchful eye of the Navy and how they could get from one side of the Grand Line to the other in a matter of hours. 

And out of the thousands upon thousands of Marines to choose from for this task, they had chosen you. 

You, the daughter of a well-respected Vice-Admiral and the strongest Marine produced from your class.

You, who was vicious in your attack upon the pirates that sailed the Grand Line. 

You, who was bloodthirsty in your pursuit of the bandits and petty thieves that roamed the streets of the bases you occupied. 

Wild. You were wild. Too wild, many a superior had spat, to be a Marine. So wild you had gotten yourself demoted and benched more times than you could care to count on your own two hands and feet. 

It was why you had made the perfect candidate to infiltrate such a group of pirates. Unknown by most--overlooked--you and your savageness had been sent off to wander the Grand Line. Had been allowed to spread chaos and fear in your travels. Had been allowed to run wild. 

You had earned your own little bounty, on the promise it would be cleared upon the success of your mission, and had been welcomed into the Wild Wood Pirates ranks with a few, messy kills. 

It was crooked. Wicked of your superiors to allow you to do such horrid acts, but it was all in the name of discovery. Of committing little evils to behead that of a greater one. 

You rose in rank gradually throughout the years you had joined their crew. Had gained favor with your new captain. Had gained such favor, you had been allowed on their main ship; The Robber’s Den. A grand vessel with a twisting and turning tunnel-like underbelly and home to a strange forest that grew over the deck.

Had just, after death and back-breaking labor, been allowed to be above deck as they traveled through the Grand Line at in-humanly fast speeds. The answers you sought had been in your grasp--your mission nearly complete when those very same superiors who had assigned you this years-long mission, sent a messenger bat to recall you. 

You tugged at your white uniform. One you hadn’t worn in five years. Tugged and pulled and shifted it over your body, trying desperately to get comfortable in its hold. 

Too tight, too thick, too itchy. It didn’t feel like your uniform any longer. It felt like a costume. A disguise. A poorly made disguise at that. 

How had you ever had the patience to wear such a monstrosity?

The answer is you never had and coming fresh off the seas, where one did as they pleased, when they pleased it, the uniform was already trying your thin patience.

You shifted the cap upon your head, it having begun to itch right alongside your uniform, as you stared up at those giant doors before you. 

In and out. 

You willed--no prayed--for this meeting to be as swift as The Robber’s Den’s speed. An hour--an hour and a half at most is all you knew you had the tolerance for.

A progress report. That is what they had written in their letter. It would be a simple meeting. A very simple meeting, seeing as they had whisked you away from those Wild Wood Pirates before you could glean their biggest secret from them.

With a great, chest-expanding breath, you pushed your way into the meeting room full of glorified titans. 

You wished beyond all hope to have your shadow by your side for company at that moment. 

“Ah, so the feral girl finally makes her appearance.” The grating voice of Akainu spoke, stopping all idle conversation that had bounced around the rounded table and room. He was the first you spotted, signature pink rose on his breast and the basic, marine-sanctioned cap on his head, which led the eye to the large scars littering the right side of his body.

You let your eyes scan over the others around the table--all faces you recognized but many whose ranking seemed to have changed in your absence. 

And Akainu, whose voice filled your ears with white-hot rage and made boiling magma to match that of his devil fruit powers roar through your veins, had been gifted the most gracious promotion. That of Fleet Admiral. 

It did not surprise you he had climbed this high in rank. He was smart, cunning, and powerful. It did, however, have your curiosity stifling your coiling anger for a mere moment. 

Why would a Fleet Admiral need to be present during a simple progress report? 

You felt your muscles move on memory before your brain could rush to keep up with its sharp movements. Heels brought together, hips and shoulders on level, legs straight but not so firm as to lock up your knees, and right hand brought to meet your right brow in respect of your higher-ups. 

“Forgive me, sir. I had been making my way to old headquarters before I realized its relocation.” The man let a mouth full of smoke escape his lips, which a half-smoked cigar still lay between. 

“I didn’t expect anything else, Apprentice.” You hardly were able to refrain from outright snarling at the Fleet Admiral. 

Seaman Apprentice. One rank up from being a lowly recruit. A rank you had received only a week before you were given your undercover assignment. “I see those wild women took every last ounce of civility from you.” He said, giving a wicked laugh at your reaction. 

“With all due respect, Fleet Admiral.” Another member, sitting closest to the entrance, spoke up before you could lose your already lost temper. His chair blocked him from view, but you knew the dull voice of your father too well. 

“Y/N took a great risk in joining the ranks of the Wild Wood Pirates. Took a greater risk still in coming here on such unexpected notice. It shows her dedication and devotion to our government.” Your father finished, making no such move as to look upon you. To see what had become of his only child in the time spent with the enemy.

Akainu let another mouthful of smoke filter out between his teeth, his dark eyes scanning over you from beneath his cap. Eyes that reignited that itch your uniform made crawl over your skin like a thousand ants had marched their way under it. It made your fingers twitch in want to relieve it.

“At ease.” He grated out, like he was disappointed in releasing you from the restricting position. You let your arm fall to your side before it joined your other behind your back, feet spread shoulders width apart. “I assume you have heard of the battle at Marineford and our…unfortunate happenings with the Warlords.” 

Hardly. You had hardly heard such news had it not been for the News Coo bird you’d paid discreetly and at risk of your own personal being. You let your superiors know of your little knowledge of the battle. 

“We are looking for others to fill the voids left by Teach, Jinbe, and Gecko Moria. We have filled two of these vacuums.” Akainu gestured for you to find a seat around the table. Your feet carried you to an opening next to the quiet likes of Tsuru, the Vice-Admiral hardly sparing you a glance. “The file before you holds all the information we currently hold on the pirate we believe might fill this last position.” 

Your fingers smoothed over the fine-coursed blue file that sat before you, flipping it open you had not expected to be met with the sparkingly and laughing grin of a pirate whose reputation whispered around even the likes of the isolating Wild Wood Pirates. A reputation of cowardice and overall weakness that your crewmates had loathed.  

A grin you had wanted to punch off his panted face ever since you had first met him in the flesh at the start of your five-year undercover mission. 

You chuckled. No--not chuckled, laughed. A belly-shaking laugh as you grabbed at the edge of the wanted poster to tilt it towards your vision better.

“This is who you plan on granting the title of Warlord to? This bumbling fool?” You shook your head, wiping a stray tear from your eyes as your laughter continued to keep hold of you. “You are right, Fleet Admiral, I have been away from civilization far too long. You wish me to believe this clown is a threat to the Marines? To the World Government?”

“You have been gone far too long. You have forgotten your manners, Apprentice.” The rank had your laughter dying quickly in your throat. A rank hissed at you in a warning. 

Manners. You truly did need to relearn your manners. If you didn’t, your higher-up would demote you to a lowly recruit--maybe even to that of chore boy and you would be nothing. 

Nothing but a wild mess of a person--a failure. A reject. A disappointment. 

“The Star Clown led a mass of prisoners out of Impel Down, of which he managed to escape with hardly a scratch.” You pursed your lips together to keep any remaining remarks down. 

You hadn’t seen that in the news. Must have missed it in your isolation.

“He led those highly dangerous prisoners against us on the battlefield and still holds them under his command. He is becoming a threat.” Akainu all but spat your way.

“He’s just been lucky.” An admiral, sitting to the left of the Fleet Admiral, spoke, leaning back in his chair in dismission of the clown.

“Too lucky. We need to nib this luck at its source before it grows out of our power to control.” Akainu snapped at the admiral next to him, who hardly seemed phased. “If we--”

“A luck child,” Tsuru spoke from beside you, cutting off the Fleet Admiral. You almost threw the woman a wicked smile in approval had you not remembered she had a disliking of you right alongside the rest of her comrades. “Poor as penance, rich as snow, a great captain of a great captain. Wise men prophesied this child would one day achieve greatness.” 

The room fell silent as the words fell heavy over the air. Words you had never heard once in your life, but ones that seemed to flicker in recognition in the eyes of the Marines around you.

“Have we fallen so low as to start believing old superstitions of a dying age?” The admiral to the left huffed. “It was no wise man who spoke those words. Gold Rodger was out of his mind by the time Death came for him. First this luck child, then that foolish proclamation about the One Piece. He was spewing utter nonsense.” 

“Luck is a gift. A blessing. It cannot be undone.” The Admiral scoffed at Tsuru's words once more.

“Akainu, are you going to--”

“Then he is more of a threat than we originally thought. His escape, his ability to gather powerful individuals under his command, his connections to Red-Haired Shanks and the Rodger Pirates, and now this--prophecy.” The Admiral shook his head in disbelief at his superior’s words. “Something needs to be done about him.”

“Then why not just kill him?” You spoke on a gruff, gaining Akainu’s magma-filled gaze once more. “He is more trouble than he is worth. The other pirates mock him--he is their court jester, not their lord. Kill him and be done with it.” You all but hissed, throwing the clown's wanted poster down. 

Akainu rapped his fingers against the marble table before him, deep in thought as he watched you. Watched you in a way you wished he would stop. 

“You’ll find a map just beneath his bounty.” You pursed your lips together once more. 

Manners. Remember your manners.

“As I am sure you have already gathered, we have not called you back for a simple progress report. You are to take that map to him as an offering to join his crew.” You pulled the map out from behind his bounty poster. 

It was small. Old. Its detailing was lacking and few of the black lines that made up its image had faded with age.

How anyone was supposed to properly use it in its deteriorating state was beyond you.

“And what of the Wild Wood Pirates?” You asked, glancing back up to your superior. 

“What of them?” He said, seeming utterly unworried. It fueled your anger once more.

“If they find out I left to join up with another crew they will not stop hunting me until I am dead.” You said, biting back the snap in your voice. 

“Then sail clear of their territory.” Akainu snapped, uncaring to hold back his words’ own sharpness.

Sail clear of their territory--you almost scoffed. They had no territory. They didn’t care about such things. Power was all they cared about. Blood and chaos and pain. You went to tell him as such, but he was quick to shut your complaints down.

“You’re job, Apprentice, is to give him the map and join his crew. You are to take account of every last individual who has joined him, report it back to us, and make sure he finds this island. If he can find it and win the golden feather amongst its hordes of treasure, then he will receive a letter from us in due time telling of his new title. But if the beast that roams those lands defeats him, then we have nothing to worry about besides contacting the runner-up.” 

You clenched your fist in your lap. Clenched it so hard you were almost certain you had broken the thin skin of your palm.

Join him. Join that fool? No. Never. 

“Why would this feather be of any interest to him?” You asked, channeling all your frustrations into your grip. 

“It is said to be of an opposing nature to that of the Devil Fruits. Legend says it frees its user from Mother Ocean’s hold forevermore. If the stories are to be believed, he would be able to swim as he pleased in her waters, never to drown. Maybe even be given the power to deify that of Seastone.” The Admiral to his left shook his head once more at the continued fairy tales and legends. 

“And what happens when he fails to find this golden feather? When he fails to get eaten by this beast because he has run away like the slimy creature he is?” You asked, closing the file to keep those irritating green-blue eyes from staring at you any longer.

“Then you kill him as you see fit.” Akainu closed his own file. “You wild things do so love a bloody kill.” 

Manners--oh but your manners were running very, very thin. 

You pulled a thin-lipped smile to your features. 

“As you command, Fleet Admiral.” Akainu chuckled darkly, releasing another mouthful of smoke.

“Very good.”  He smirked, standing from his seat. “Then it is settled. Apprentice Y/N will see if our--Luck Child,” He said with another rumbling chuckle, “is fit for greatness as such wise men have prophecied. If not, he is better off dead and off the chess board.” You stood with the rest of the Marines around the table, right hand back on your brow as the Fleet Admiral moved through the room towards those great, giant doors. 

The three admirals were quick to follow, and so on and so on until you were left standing in that too-bright, rounded meeting room with your father. 

You felt no need for formal respect when it came to him, so you were quick to drop what little was left of your good manners and snarled like some raid animal in your frustrations.

You tugged and yanked at your uniform once more, loosening buttons and your necktie.

“Will you be--” You were quick to fix him with a daggered glare and a show of hissing teeth. 

“I stopped needing your care long ago.” Your father hardly blinked at your wild behavior.

“You may have stopped needing it but I have yet to stop caring.” He sighed, standing from his seat. 

Care. Like you were supposed to believe he truly cared for you. 

You watched him pull something from the pocket of his white dress-pants. It was a rectangular envelope in a soft shade of periwinkle, with elegant and swirling handwriting that looped over the front.

You recognized it immediately for what it was. An invitation. One you had seen many times in the past.

“The Lady Aegea of the Magmere Isle is hosting her annual masquerade ball in three days time. Many ladies will be presented--” You held a hand up to stop him before he could continue to waste his breath.

“Have you forgotten I have been ordered to worm my way into yet another pirate crew by that time? If I am not killed for my betrayals, I will be no lady of any court you wish associations with.” Your father looked--tired. Older. 

When had he gotten like that? 

“I just want to see you happy.” That only had your anger spiking in your chest. A deep anger that had been building ever since your childhood. 

“You raised me as if I was nothing more than another cadet under your command, remember?” They were words he had heard from you many times over. Words to rival that of the ballrooms and proper lady-like conversation and courtships he threw your way. Even when you had joined the Marines, he continued to offer you up on a silver platter to any lord brave enough to try for your hand and you continued to fight him. “I cannot help the path laid before me.” 

“You can throw my biggest mistakes in my face, but it will not change my hopes for your future.” You scoffed at his words. Words that he spoke in a dull drawl that only had your anger coiling tighter around your heart. “Will you at least take the invitation? In case you change your mind. I will fight to have you removed from this assignment if you do.” Your eyes scanned over the invitation. You knew there was no way you would attend such an event, not unless it was forced upon you. 

But if you took it now, it would keep him off your back for a little while longer.

“Fine.” You snapped, grabbing up the Star Clown’s file before making your way around the table to snag the invitation from your father’s awaiting grasp. “This means nothing of my attendance.” Your father only smiled--too excited for his own good. 

“Of course, of course…though, I have been told Lady Aegea has invitited the great Lord Dacule Mihawk.” He was always invited. The swordsman was the most sought-after suitor in the blue sea and Lady Aegea had a strange fixation on him. Him and finding him a suitor. “And rumor has it he will be in attendance this year.” 

“I find that very hard to believe.” You huffed, shoving the invitation amongst the rest of your newly gathered information, tucked away in the file you held. Though the Warlord had been invited to every last ball the Lady Aegea threw, he never once dared to show his face.

“He might be of some help to your mission. Him being a Warlord after all.” Your father said as you started out of the meeting hall, hardly sparing your father a final look. He was not saying this to be of any real help. It was his way of bringing the Warlord to your attention for potential courtship. 

“Good day, Vice Admiral.” 

“Wouldn’t you agree?” Your father called as you stormed out of those giant doors. Stormed out of those shadow-stealing lights and too-clean halls ways. Stormed passed fellow Marines making their way through the halls just as you did, though looking far less angered.

You yanked your cap from your head as you hit fresh air. Air that didn’t smell of cigar smoke and molten lava. Your uniform top was next, its persistent itching becoming far too much for you to handle. 

Luck child, luck child, luck child. 

Curse that foolish clown. Curse him and his horrid luck. 

There was no reward in this for you. Nothing other than a death sentence, old wives' tales, your father's nags of marriage, and your submission to yet another power you had no interest in following.

Buggy the Clown was not that lucky. No man was that lucky and you would be the one to end this ridiculous string of good fortune.

Screams and shouting commands filled the roaring, storm-filled air as the Big Top was hit with yet another mountainous wave. Saltwater stung at Buggy’s eyes and made loose strands of blue hair stick to the sides of his face, which his make-up ran over, ruined. Saltwater that had his grip on the lines he had been retieing begin to grow weak, Mother Ocean’s power over him slowly starting to win. 

“Shit, shit, shit!” Buggy screamed as he managed to retie the rigging despite his numbing fingers. 

Screw Mother Ocean. Screw Devil Fruits and screw this freak storm that has come out of nowhere. A storm that had already claimed three of his men in its merciless hunger.

He spied Alvida, kneeling on the drenched deck, looking about ready to pass out. Her long, curling locks stuck to her smooth skin which looked all too pale in the muggy light the storm clouds allowed to slip through.

The water was no doubt taking its effect on her now, rendering her utterly useless.

Buggy grabbed for another loose line that was threatening to run free just as a large ball of wax rolled past dangerously, knocking a few of his freaks over as it headed toward the front of his ship.

Galdino, a fellow escapee from Impel Down and one of Buggy’s newest crew members, must have encapsulated himself before the water could do much to drain his own powers. Encapsulated himself in a rolling ball that, if didn’t kill someone, would surely roll straight into the ocean. 

Stupid idiot.

Buggy’s muscles loosened then and, despite his best efforts, the line he had been holding fell from his grasp, shooting up into the rain and sea-spray-filled air. Something snapped and Buggy turned just in time to give a screeching curse as the main boom swayed low, knocking into him and sending Buggy flying. 

“Captain!” The sound of his Chief of Staff, Cabaji, called as Buggy groaned at the pain zapping through his body. 

“Get--get us out of this fucking storm!” Buggy hissed, his roaring coming out more breathy as he fought to regain the air in his lungs. 

He hardly heard Cabaji’s response before the ship hit something solid. 

Wood splintered and groaned and Buggy was, yet again, thrown through the air with a scream.

All he could do was scream as Mother Ocean stole all his fight and energy. Scream till his voice ran horse and his limp body was thrown overboard. 

Buggy hit the cold water and was thrown in thrashing circles. 

His lungs burned as he held his breath against the raging waters around him. Lungs and eyes and nostrils burned like fire had been poured into them. It was hell--and just when hell seemed to get the upper hand, to just begin to wrestle the air from his lungs, he was spat out onto a sandy shore. 

Body unable to move, Buggy lay cursing the sea. Cursing Mother Ocean and the Grand Lines freakish weather. Weather that seemed was beginning to calm as if it had taken its pound of flesh from him, satisfied. 

A wave crashed into Buggy, further numbing his body and sinking him into the wet sand beneath him. 

Screw this. Screw sand. Screw water. Screw the air. Screw himself and his devil-blessed powers.

“Captain! Oh, thank the gods!” It was Cabaji’s voice again, growing nearer and nearer. Relief flooded through Buggy’s chest as his Chief of Staff came into view just as another wave crashed into him, stealing his breath once more before falling back into the vast sea.

“Get. Me. The hell. Up!” Buggy hissed as quickly as the saltwater would allow him. 

“Right, yes. Yes, Captain.” Hands grabbed him under his shoulders and dragged his limp body further inland, away from the sea still wishing to drag him into their depths. “We thought you were dead, Captain,” Cabaji grunted as he continued to drag Buggy over the shore. 

Of course he wasn’t dead. He was tougher then that.

The taste of salt water on his lips sent a shiver down Buggy’s spine.

From this angle, Buggy could just spot his precious ship laying on its side, beached like some great whale and looking like someone had taken some great hammer to its hull.

Whoever had been in the crow's nest was going to get murdered. 

“You’re luck never ceases to amaze me, Captain Buggy.” Cabaji huffed, finally coming to a stop once he had made it to the rest of Buggy’s exhausted crew. He spotted Alvida slumped on the sand just as he was, teeth grit and hissing insults Mohji’s way, who had been trying to help her. 

Luck--ha. Buggy laughed at such bullshit.

How was getting knocked into the ocean and nearly drowning lucky?

Next

Tag list: @fanshavegottensotoxic , @lostfirefly

[the-far-bright-center]

In discussions of TCW-Anakin vs. film-Anakin, I understand why some people see them as being incompatible or entirely different portrayals. But whatever problems I personally have with TCW are more to do with certain OOC dialogue lines that I don't agree with, or the overly-contrived situations that TCW tends to force him into just so an episode or scene can function as a 'meta-commentary' on his character or storyline. Believe me, I have issues with specific aspects of TCW's writing for Anakin, but the fact he's more outwardly 'suave' or 'dashing' than some people expected is not one of them. If anything, I see the 'Skyguy' persona as perfectly in keeping with Anakin as portrayed at the beginning of RotS, and I would argue that a great deal of the TCW characterisation is pulled directly from those Battle of Coruscant scenes. TCW Anakin is also heavily inspired by Jake Lloyd's Little Ani in TPM, which, lest anyone forget, counts as FILM-Anakin. Seriously, do people not recall how much swagger and self-confidence little Ani has at the beginning of TPM? (🎵Do you see him hitting on the queen, though he’s just nine and she’s fourteen.’ 🎶 😅) He's a hotshot little ace podracing pilot and he knows it! And in AotC, the only reasons Anakin comes across as more 'awkward' at the beginning is that he's nervous about seeing Padme again after so long. Once he knows for sure she reciprocates his feelings at the battle of Geonosis, the suave, confident Anakin is back! And thus by the time of the Clone Wars, it makes sense that after being a general in the war in charge of many men, he'd have to have a certain level of outward charisma no matter how much inner doubt or turmoil he might be feeling. So, in my opinion, the actual baseline 'persona' for both versions of the character isn't as different as some seem to think. I'm tired of the idea that film-Anakin ISN’T supposed to be seen as ‘cool’ in-universe, just as much as I’m tired of the idea that TCW-Anakin ISN’T supposed to be viewed as a figure of pathos by the audience, either.

Imo, they’re both takes on the same character coming from different angles, set at different stages in his life, and portrayed through different mediums — an animated series heavy on self-aware, darkly ironic humour in a more contemporary style intended to entertain and increase enjoyment of the Prequels-era and its characters. vs. a more serious Greek tragedy with Shakespearean overtones made with old-Hollywood-style sensibilities as part of a mythic six-film saga.

While there are plenty of things that TCW gets wrong about Anakin (see my 'TCW discourse' tag for more on that), dismissing him because he is ‘too macho’ seems to miss the mark a bit. Just because TCW Ani doesn’t shed literal tears on-screen doesn’t mean he’s not emotional or emotionally vulnerable. As far as I remember, there's even a scene where Obi-Wan and Anakin discuss the fact that Anakin has trouble keeping his emotions hidden, especially when it comes to his feelings for his loved ones, which is the opposite of the stereotypical stoic, self-reliant 'macho' ideal. And the amount of times we're constantly bashed over the head with dramatic irony about his fate as Vader in that series surely drives home the point that his trajectory is a decidedly tragic one. (The way he cries out in agony in the Mortis arc, 'I will do such terrible things!' gets to me, every time.) Despite his powers and prowess, TCW Anakin is even shown as being physically vulnerable at times, as well — see the Jedi Crash storyline which he spends mostly knocked-out unconscious, the nod to his mechanical arm as a liability in the Zillo Beast and Citadel arcs, and the scene of him futilely struggling like a wild beast before being captured with ropes in the Zyggerian arc, or the fact he gets captured and tortured by Dooku in 'Shadow Warrior'. I see endless jokes about TCW Ani getting electrocuted every other episode, but then fandom uses this to fuel the dismissive view of him as just some dumb himbo instead of understanding that this, too, is supposed to add to the character's pathos.

Likewise, fandom claims that Prequels-Anakin is 'uncool' and 'cries all the time', which is simply not true. As noted above, film-Anakin banters, jokes, laughs, makes daring jumps out of speeders, does bold piloting moves, is in fact an imposing duellist, and so on. Sure, his character is not supposed to be seen as aspirational (obviously!) and the most memorable and dramatic moments of the latter two Prequels films feature him in the midst of extremely intense emotions. But the oft-repeated view of him as 'uncool' completely ignores the fact that by the time that RotS starts, film-Anakin is supposed to be a well-known and widely-admired charismatic general, aka the Hero With No Fear, who is viewed as almost singlehandedly saving the Republic. The audience may be privy to Anakin's inner struggles with his fear of loss, but in-story he is supposed to be seen as THE golden boy of the Jedi Order and the Republic. The RotS novelization frequently mentions that Anakin has 'dash', 'boldness', and a 'presence' 'like the Holo-Net hero that he is'. It literally says he's the best at what he does and he KNOWS it. He's not just supposed to be an awkward idiot in the way some people seem to perceive him solely based on certain scenes in AotC. Rather, he's supposed to be shown as falling from a 'great height'. By the time of RotS, film Anakin has just as much swagger and self-confidence in his role as General Skywalker as he does in TCW. Just because that side of him is not the main focus of the film doesn't mean it's not supposed to be there.

[anime-chick]

YYH live action - disappointments and highlights!

disappointments:

off the bat - it's five episodes and the pacing and storylines are squished, but you just have to accept these limitations and embrace this for what it is - MOVING ON

the music - it was generic and had some weird choices and overall didn't feel very cohesive?

hiei's zoomies - the sound effect when he's going fast is a bit cartoony in a bad way

3 times the cgi was noticeably iffy: genkai's younger face, when yusuke and kurama went into the mirror of forlorn hope, the blooms coming out of karasu

skipping over hiei and kurama's backgrounds - this is what made me think this series is more for yyh fan than anyone else, at the very least i would think there would be some exposition about youko kurama or hiei being a thief

bui - he was flat and really just there for hiei to show off his dragon (which isnt a bad reason! but in comparison to karasu, he didn't have much of a personality, even after taking off his armor)

highlights:

fucking everything i loved it askldjhsdfg

SMILE BOMB!!!!

but really - kuwabara's introduction, yusuke's flying drop kick, it perfectly captured their dynamic

kuwabara in general, he was everything i hoped he'd be

the costuming: while there wasn't as much variety in what yusuke and co. wore, there were lots of details that made everyone's clothes stand out (the chains and lining on kuwabara's uniform, yusuke's cropped uniform top, everything hiei wore to the buckled strap for his sword in the back, kurama's magenta uniform with the gold lining that IS NOT his school uniform but just - something he wears i guess?? which makes it even more insane and i love that)

THE FIGHT SCENES, they put so much effort into each fight and you can tell and it makes the show stand out SO MUCH in comparison to other live action adaptations

the way they, despite having to condense so much of the story, managed to tell a very interesting and entertaining twist to the story without losing too much

hiei and kuwabara arguing - hiei going out of his way to tell kuwabara to get away from yukina <- i'm still laughing

speaking of - THE HUMOR, it was serious! it was funny! it did a great job of balancing out the two

the dynamic of the group is just like in the anime/manga (though we didn't get as much of them interacting as i'd like, we got some and i enjoyed every bit of it!)

karasu. he was creepy. he was gay. his eyeliner was sharp. his attacks looked awesome. his fight lived up to his anime counterpart

the toguro brothers. while we didn't get as much of a lead up, they were perfect. older toguro was straight out of a horror movie. younger toguro managed to be complex and not just a big muscular villain. there was depth to him that felt very authentic.

hiei diving off the tower, i really enjoyed seeing his demonic abilities on display (though where were his fire powers???)

YOUKO KURAMA. i was so worried he'd look terrible in live action but he was just pretty and fluffy and aslkdjhsdfg

hiei and yukina's reunion. awkward. sincere. sweet. sad. the fact that hiei was surprised yukina even spoke to him. i wanna squish the two of them

everyone was beat to hell, their clothes were crunchy and gritty and i like that no one was left 'pristine' like in so many other shows - these boys got nasty

everything honestly just everything i watched the entire five episodes grinning and having a blast

controversial opinion:

i like kurama's wig. i said it. yeah. i do.

[crusherthedoctor]

Hey all, hope everyone's doing good. Thought I should give an update on my current perspective on things around here, as it's shifted for reasons I'll get into.

In a nutshell, I'm feeling better than before... but I also think it's time for me to semi-check out of current Sonic discussion.

By now, you all know that with the exception of Superstars and Dream Team - and Jimbotnik, because of course - I've not been enthusiastic about much of the current stuff. Whether that be the likelihood that they'll continue with a Frontiers direction, the SA2 milking that has made me more sick to death of its influence than I thought was possible, the Year of Shadow in general not being all that enticing if your top ten does not include him, IDW still causing the same repetitive back-and-forths with its characteristically terrible decisions and disproportionate praise from fans who don't actually buy the comic, various other bits and pieces that plant further Eggdad seeds into people's heads, a bunch of other stuff that I'm just apathetic about while everyone else goes crazy over them... it's not been a great time for me. I'm the Garfield, and the current direction is the Monday.

That would all be one thing, but as you may expect, it's the fandom that really irks me. I don't like how it's considered necessary to make every post a bestseller in order for your opinion to be seen as valid and insightful. I don't like how you're expected to not criticise something just because it's popular or "iconic". I don't like how everyone dedicates themselves to the same old lengthy discourse that will continue to not change anyone's minds either way, since the only people listening are the ones who already agreed with them. I don't like how you have Flynn/Archie/IDW stans on one side, and an increasingly common "Japan only, no one else should ever touch the series, also the Japanese fandom is the only one with good people in it, I was born in the wrong country uwu" mentality on the other side.

And... I don't like that I've brought these concerns up so many times before when I know it'll always fall on deaf ears. Why do I do this? Why do I bother? For the fandom, I guess. But if the fandom doesn't even respect me, if my words are always doomed to ring in an empty hallway, why should I bother?

While all this has been going on, the Paper Mario Thousand-Year Door remake has been on my mind quite a bit, as it has been for a lot of folk. As someone who has always loved TTYD, as well as the original N64 Paper Mario, I'm happy to report that I absolutely adore the remake, and quickly considered it a gold standard as far as faithful remakes go. :) There's a lot of reasons for that, but that's best for another time. Anyway, after a certain point, it occurred to me... hasn't it been a while since I've been able to just relax and join in on the hype for something? Hasn't it been a while since my opinion lined up with that of the majority? Hasn't it been a while since, regardless of not actually posting, I felt like I belonged somewhere, and wasn't being made to constantly feel like I'm worthless because I'm not an artist, animator, etc?

I think this is something I've been needing for a long time now. The irony of it coming from the bing bing wahoo man is not lost on me.

After how the past few years in the Sonic fandom have felt like a classroom more than anything, watching everyone repeat the same Why ___ Is Secretly Good/Bad three hour manifestos over and over, and flogging themselves for being Not-Japanese, can you see why the simple pleasures of "hehe Vivian :3" would appeal to me? Can you see why I'd prefer to unwind? I made a valiant effort, but now, I can't force myself to keep up with shit that I'm not passionate about for the sake of a community that doesn't care about what I have to say anyway. I need to find myself a place on here that I can be at ease with.

So what does this mean for my blog? Well, nothing too jarring, just that my focus may shift a little for the time being. Despite what all of the above may imply, I'm not turning in my Sonic badge. I still love the franchise, even if I'm not so fond of its overall current direction. And obviously, I still love Eggman, that'll never change. I'll still answer asks about the series, talk about things I like, reblog stuff I like, work on Stellar, spread Egg Propaganda, and so on. But unless I'm asked about them in certain contexts (ie: "how would you improve this character"?), I refuse to talk about IDW, Frontiers, or anything else whose contents and fandom circles cause me migraines.

Not because toxic positivity, but because after the joy of gushing over Vivian TTYD, and remembering the feeling of belonging, I can't do this again. I can't change Tails calling himself Wildly Inconsistent. I can't change The End being a nothingburger. I can't change Lanolin being an arsehole. I can't change Surge's shilling. I can't change how unprofessional the IDW crew is. I can't change what they're doing with Eggman, and various other characters. I can't change any of these things, no matter how much I or anyone else rants about them, and half the time, no one is seriously listening anyway. So many words for so little results. So I need to move on, stop wasting my time, and turn my attention on things that actually make me happy instead of just... deflated. Maybe if I do that, I can belong again. Maybe when the direction inevitably changes again in the future, it'll feel like it came faster.

So yeah. That's where I'm at now. I hope you guys can understand.

[misscammiedawn]

50 Days of HypnoKink - Day 49: Hypno in Media

My heavens... we made it to the finish line. Tomorrow is the final day.

I wanted to save an obvious one for the end because I do so enjoy MC in fiction so very much. So much, in fact, that I made a Twitter thread with 110 recommendations and never even came close to emptying my resources.

I know so many of these scenes, both that Twitter thread and this page are skimming the surface.

I'll be using some of those recommendations here but let's divide by category:

Film

So let's get the obvious out of the way. You have

Trance

A Danny Boyle thriller with a terrible plot and Rosario Dawson as a hypnotherapist trying to get hidden information from James McAvoy's mind. Silly movie but one that doesn't get brought up a lot. Dawson learned hypnosis to get into the role.

Candyman

Horror movie in which the director literally hypnotized the actress so any time she was being stalked by the titular killer she looked completely entranced. Link above is an interview discussing this.

Hypnotic

HORRIBLE movie on Netflix but Sleepyhead and I have hosted a number of watch parties and let me tell you, this is the PERFECT movie to watch with a bunch of rowdy hypnokinksters. The therapist is unethical to a laughable degree and his office looks like it's inside of the Death Star. He's a living breathing red flag. The movie does have a really hot freeze scene, a good ragdoll and the dollification sequence. It's just enjoyable because it's terrible. Check CWs first though, this movie has a bunch of things that can make it an uncomfortable viewing experience.

The Great Hypnotist

This is a Not For Daja movie. A Chinese movie that doesn't get brought up a lot. Like Trance above it is a thriller with some twists and turns that I don't really want to spoil.

Stir of Echoes

A visualization of a dissociation induction designed to make a person view events on a screen so they are separate from the memory. It's a remarkably well done scene.

Now You See Me 1/2

The hypnosis in these movies is STUPID and I love it. The first movie has a punchline that every time Mark Rufallo's character makes a frustrated comment people who Woody Harrelson has hypnotized will start acting as if they're in an orchestra. Second movie has a twin Woody Harrelson as an evil hypnotist and he uses a pizza box as an evil induction. It's amazing.

Sherlock Holmes Woman in Green

This induction is one of the coolest I've seen in a film and I try my hardest to channel the energy of this when I am doing a relaxation focused scene.

TV

Charlies Angels

This is bar none my favorite hypnosis scene in any fiction. The typewriter induction is amazing, the hypnotist has such a smooth voice, the entranced gazes are lovely. It's just perfect. Heck, the link above is "hypnosis scenes" from the episode and is 26 minutes long. From a single episode of television.

Doctor Who

Sarah Jane gets hypnotized so often that I could make a list purely from her.

Legion

I just wanna link this one as it's one of those scenes that works so much better without context and the aesthetics are incredible. Plus who doesn't like Aubrey Plaza?

Quick Bonus Animation Round

Carmen Sandiego (Neflix) has a ton of mind control including the bad end to the interactive movie.

Totally Spies is a meme for a reason

And this one is a reason many of us are here <3

Comics

DC vs Vampires

I think the page speaks for itself. "Hypnosis isn't lying, Diana. It's speaking to your vulnerability."

Korra

This sequence of Asami, brainwashed to hate the avatar, being deprogrammed is so good that someone on AO3 did an incredible fan-fiction which may well be one of my favorite hypnokink stories of all time.

Super Mario Comic

I bring this one up as it was one of my earliest moments of "...oh... this is kind of making me feel some kind of way."

Video Games

A note that a full directory of video games featuring Mind Control can be found at mindcontrol.fun the MC Games Wiki, run by @soveryverytired

Nyx Gaming (Featured game: Enthralled)

Nyx do incredible games which are designed to hypnotize the viewer and their consent practices are wonderful. They recently teamed up with Secret Subject to release a vampire enthrallment game and let me tell you, there is not a single word in that synopsis that doesn't make me happy.

Mind Melting Massaging Machine

The best tool for VR hypnosis. Upload custom files and program spirals, subliminals and chose between static spiral or headtracking. I have had so much fun with this over the years. There's a desktop version too but VR is optimal for this experience.

Spiral Clicker

It's such a simple concept. Click on the character and watch their will go away. Spiral Clicker is backed with a fun little universe, fun characters both original and community sourced, amazing art and a clever little gameplay loop that is quite addictive. Careful, the game features a constant spiral, you may find yourself falling in to trance. Don't worry. The game will wake you up. You can even ask the game to include suggestions for you :)

The sequel is being worked upon now and I cannot wait <3

Music Videos

Anna Soares - Hypnodoll (NSFW)

Straight up just a song and music video about hypnokink. If you click anything in this thread, click this one.

Little Big - Hypnodancer:

Silly antics but a fun music video.

Pharrell Williams - Hypnotize U

It's just Pharrell hanging out in a mansion with his hypnotized harem.

Grimes - We Appreciate Power

It's dronekink baby.

Andamiro - Hypnotize

Maid hypnotizes their employer.

I could do so many more in all areas. But the point is, media is hypnohorny. I never went over advertisements (UK ones especially), books, musicals (Phantom and Next To Normal for instance), anime (Sailor Moon) or manga.

But I write about a bunch more in my Twitter thread.

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Day 48: Stealth Inductions

FULL SCHEDULE MASTER POST

FINAL Day 50: Presentation