#young fru

[danielemarigold]

John Frusciante

[larissaligus]

I really love this old video ❤️

[jaythes1mp]

1224 words, 7239 characters, 54 sentences, 27 paragraphs, 4.9 pages. Tag list: @zero-s-tea @chemicalsandghosts @yandere-enthusiast @starsdotalk @small-mushroom-fae

Your secrets are ours, kid

Yandere BatFam x Reader — CH10 -> CH9 -> CH8 -> CH7 -> CH6 -> CH5 -> CH4 -> CH3 -> CH2 -> CH1

You had always had a vague understanding that your biological father was well-off, as he would consistently transfer a substantial amount of cash to that woman each month. However, while you were fortunate enough to not have grown up in the most deprived area of Gotham, it didn't necessarily mean that you had lived in the lap of luxury either.

Despite the knowledge that your father was wealthy, you had still scraped by in a small, cramped apartment, constantly relying on his financial support and night jobs to survive. You supposed that your situation could have been worse, but it didn't make the reality any more bearable. You often wondered what it would be like to live in a well-appointed home and never worry about money, but those thoughts were quickly thrusted aside and squashed down by the woman’s polished heel. Every time, the woman’s sharp words brought you back to reality.

You hadn’t deserved that life. She would remind you time and time again.

You grimace, the thought of your mother, or rather, that woman, entering your consciousness disgusting you. You weren't sure if she'd ever truly earn the title of 'mother.'

It wasn't until you reached the age of eleven that you become painfully aware that not every child had to desperately plead with their mother for food, and that it wasn't normal for parents to hold their kids needs over their own heads.

It had become abundantly clear to you from a young age that the woman was never truly interested in motherhood and had only kept you out of a slim chance that one of the men she had whored herself out to would be wealthy. She targeted men at lavish galas, her sole purpose for going being to hook up with them in exchange for large amounts of money. They usually sent nondisclosure agreements along with the cash, ensuring her continued wealth. However, your existence disrupted her carefree lifestyle. ‘It was perfect, until you came along.’ She’d say.

She had exploited Bruce Wayne for money. Getting him drunk with enough press around to stress about his ‘playboy image’ to bed her. Afterwards, she demanded a large sum of money, and he gave it to her without a second thought. He hadn’t even fully read over the details. Just signing up for a wire transfer to her account every month for the next few years. He hadn’t even been aware of you.

Too preoccupied with training the young Robin to even be aware of your birth.

Throughout your life, the woman had consistently manipulated the truth, spinning a tale in which it was your fault that your father had ‘left.’ And, despite your reservations, a small part of you still believed her words.

She had carefully cultivated your sense of guilt, instilling the belief that your very existence had driven your father away. Her venomous words and manipulative behavior had left deep emotional scars, convincing you that you were unworthy of a loving father's affection. Or rather, anyone’s affection.

That day, when you turned sixteen, was the day that woman unceremoniously ushered you out of her home. Clothes and any belongings that she didn't deem worthy enough to sell for a few hundred dollars were carelessly thrown out into the hallway. By the time you made it back from work, most of your belongings had already been looted by the other tenants and homeless kids who roamed the building.

With a mixture of desperation and hope, you had gathered the few remaining possessions that you could salvage, cramming them into your work bag. Your fingers had trembled slightly as you dug out your old, cracked phone. Desperation clawed at your chest as you dialed her number and slammed your fist against the door.

You hadn’t been surprised when your repeated calls went unanswered. Frustration and anger boiled within you, mingled with a pang of hurt and despair. Deep down, you knew it was futile to even attempt to break down the door, as that would only result in consequences that you were unwilling to face.

With a steely determination, you forced back the tears that threatened to overwhelm you, walking to the nearest bank with a firm resolve. You withdrew every penny you had painstakingly saved over the past two years and closed the account, ensuring she could no longer access any of your hard-earned money.

Armed with the few thousand dollars you had managed to retrieve, you began a desperate search for someone, anyone, who would be willing to offer you a roof over your head. Despair gripped your heart as you realized how limited your options truly were.

At that point, the members of the Batfamily had been cognisant of your existence for about a year. Bruce having taken a DNA test for Alfred’s medical examination. Yet, despite their general awareness of your presence, it seemed they had made no direct attempt to reach out or provide assistance. On the surface, your life appeared stable. You resided with a supportive parent, attended school, and held down a job. From all outward appearances, there didn't seem to be anything particularly noteworthy or concerning about your circumstances.

But they were detectives. One would expect them to possess keen eyes for details, especially when it came to the nuances and subtle signs that might indicate something amiss. Yet, they had missed the marks, failing to acknowledge the more subtle indications of your turmoil.

Jason discovered you the morning after you had been cruelly cast out from your home. You were found sleeping outside, your weary head nestled against your overstuffed work bag. Wearing an old, frayed sweater for a makeshift blanket.

Typically, he wouldn't have paused to take note of a sight akin to this. He was all too gruesomely acquainted with the sight of homeless, neglected children on the streets. But as his gaze fell upon you, there was an unsettling sense of familiarity that snagged his attention.

The question nagged him persistently, scratching at his consciousness like an untamed itch. Where had he come across you before?

Then, suddenly, recognition flashed across his mind. You were the same child Damian had fixated upon just over a year ago. The demon spawns little obsession.

He let out an exasperated sigh, running a hand through his hair in frustration. Why on earth were you on the streets? It was blatantly obvious that it wasn’t a safe environment for anyone, let alone you. The mere notion of the young Wayne finding out that his blood kin was unhoused would undoubtedly send the typically stoic demon into a frenzy.

He let out a resigned sigh, leaning down to gently nudge your huddled form. His sharp, calculating grey eyes roved over your slumbering figure, taking in every minute detail with a sense of keen observation.

You stirred at the touch, groggily lifting your head from your overstuffed bag. Your bleary eyes slowly peeled open, blinking owlishly in the early morning light. Confusion and exhaustion mingled in your expression as you caught sight of Jason crouched down in front of you.

That was the day your life began to intertwine with the tightly woven web of the Wayne family. From that very moment, you became ensnared within the complex and sometimes suffocating grip of the Wayne's protective and possessive nature.

No use of y/n, no use of any descriptive features for the reader, no gender mentioned.

Shorter than usual, but more of a dive into the reader’s backstory.

Comments, asks, and reblogs are very appreciated! Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list.

[cartmanslawyer]

why is Eric Cartman the way he is?

i hate to go all sigmund Frued on you all but i believe he is simply a byproduct of Lianes horrible parenting.

the psychological strain Cartman must have been under due to his mothers copious drug addiction and prostitution would have alternate his brain chemistry and morality from an early age, not only does she not conceal her promiscuity, she lets him watch! teaching Cartman that boundaries simply do not exist, and manipulating people via sex, along with breaking the law, is acceptable.

furthermore she’s enables him by not acknowledging his wrongdoings , in his prime developing years she was too drugged up to raise him, pretty much leaving Eric to his own accord. he has no clue what’s right from wrong and i believe he thinks being a horrible person is the only way to protect himself, i think his bad behaviour is a primal reaction, almost like fight or flight, which over time manifested itself into sadism, as we all know he now gets pleasure off hurting others

Eric also lacks of farther figure creating a crisis in masculinity for him, which he compensates for by acting out and being violent, as he has no clear masculine authority figure in the house to teach him right from wrong, i also believe that Liane enables that and Cartman has almost turned into the male authority figure in their household, a burden he shouldn’t have to bare at such a young age, he’s the one calling the shots because there’s no dad to do so

to simply put it, Cartman has mommy issues lol

[larissaligus]

The absolute pinnacle of insanity on stage has been reached.

“This is John, he’s only 18 years old.”

Red Hot Chili Peppers dressed as “super heroes” in October, 1988

[the20thangel]

The Dragon and The Raven Chapter 14: Warging Lessons.

Chapter Summary: Benjoct begins his warg lesson, growing frustrated at the slow process when his dragon princess decides to provide stress relief services. A certain person from the past comes to visit in dreams.

Tags: Smut, 18+ NSFW, angstishFluff

Taglist: @poppyflower-22 @alastorhazbin @callsignwidow @whimsicalmystic02 @mercedesdecorazon @rhaenyrathecruelwithteats @ithilwen-blackwood

word count: 2.7K

Masterlist

Ben stared at his aunt and the lord of Winterfell before laughing, his cackles frightening the whole group. The only person who seemed not bothered by the young lord’s outburst was Jaesys, who, in turn, began cooing, looking at his father. Alysanne would have swooned at the scene if she weren’t so worried about her nephew’s reaction to their plan. The Blackwood lady turned to Princess Aemma, who was staring at her husband with slight worry but was trying to hide it. 

After a minute, Benjicot finally calmed down. 

“I’m sorry, but it seems so far-fetched; you want me to try something I have only read in books. We don’t know if I even have enough blood from the First Men…” 

Aemma squeezed his hand, making him pause and face her. 

“It wouldn’t hurt to try, right? Look at my family; we asked Dragonseeds to come and try to claim dragons to support us in the war… If my family can have magic to bond our dragons, why can’t yours have a different magic to warg into animals.” explained Aemma to her husband while caressing his cheek. 

Benjicot smiled, leaning into his wife’s touch. She had a point; he just didn’t want to get his hopes up in trying something that could potentially amount to nothing, but again, just like the Dragon seeds, the outcome would never be certain unless he tried. Nodding, he turned to Cregan, letting him know that he was willing to try to learn how to warg. 

Cregan beamed, “Great! Using a raven or crow from Blackwood Lands would work best because they will sense a familiarity with you.” 

Aemma grew excited as she answered for Ben, “You can use my raven, Ben, the one you gave me when we started courting.” 

Benjicot smiled at her, placing a chaste kiss on her cheek as he stood with Cregan. Both lads eagerly wanted to start the process, Leaving Aly with the princess and little heir. 

After allowing a small moment of solitude to pass, Aly moved to sit next to the princess. As she finally allowed Jaesys to return to his mother’s arms, she asked how the princess was doing. 

Aemma nuzzled her baby, smiling as he cooed. She turned to answer Aly,  “Okay, there are days when I just want to wallow in my grief, but thankfully, Ben and Jaesys are always there to bring me out. Ben has also been amazing in being so hands-on with our son…truthfully it surprised me. As far as I knew, lords tend not to be so hands-on, but then again, many people also expected me just to hand my baby to a nursemaid.” 

She knew the greens were surely like that; she saw how out of touch Alicent was with her children.  Her mother rightfully criticized the green queen for that. 

Aly smiled as she replied, “Ben was always excited to have children; he would always take time to play with the children of the village and our younger cousins; he had more patience than Davos.” 

Bringing up Davos opened a wound in Aly; it had not even been a full year since her brother's and eldest nephew’s death. She knew Davos would have made an amazing uncle, adoring Jaesys with so much attention and gifts. He also would have enjoyed teasing his shy younger twin endlessly for wooing a Targaryen princess, but alas, fate was cruel in the form of Brakens. 

Aemma smiled, knowing the ghosts of their loved ones were close; grabbing her hand, the princess and lady leaned on each other, quietly reminiscing about their families. 

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

As the days passed, Benjicot spent many grueling hours reading and practicing the process of warging, but so far, nothing seemed to make process. It was frustrating for him; he wanted to support Aemma but felt like he was failing so far. He was also growing upset, having to place most of his lordly duties on Aly and Aemma while he trained with Cregan. Both women didn’t seem to complain, but Benjicot knew that putting all the engagements to them was unfair, especially since Aemma herself was taking her lessons from her father, preparing for the announcement from the Queen proclaiming Aemma as the new official heir to the Iron Throne. 

Rushing into his tent after another day of failure, he grabbed his cloak and threw it to the ground in frustration. Sighing from mental exhaustion, he sat tiredly on the bed, rubbing his hand up and down his face and trying to cool off. The rustling of the tent’s entrance made him look slightly up as he and his princess walked in wearing mostly red today. Warmth spread in Benji’s stomach; he always felt like this whenever Aemma decided to wear red instead of fully black. She looked gorgeous, and he was greatly considering asking a seamstress to make a dress for the princess that would have ravens and dragons embroidered just like their son. 

As the princess walked in, she noted her husband's mood, quietly sitting beside him and taking his hand into her own. After a moment of the two sitting in quiet peace, Ben raised their intertwined hands and kissed Aemma’s hand. Smiling, Aemma turned to her love, raising her other hand to move some of his hair from his forehead. 

“How was your day today?” asked the dragon princess, frowning slightly as Ben huffed quietly. 

“Frustrating… I just can’t seem to grasp how to warg… all I seem to be doing is growing headaches,” explained Benjicot as he felt his frustration coming back. 

Aemma moved closer to him, knowing he was placing so much pressure on himself. 

“It will come; just don’t push yourself too much. I don’t want this process to hurt you; skin changing can become dangerous.” pleaded Aemma. 

Ben shook his head, “I want to support you, be your eyes in the air; I want to prove to you and everyone how much I can bring into our marriage…” 

Aemma kissed him before she replied, “Yes, but what good will come if my husband ends up injuring himself because he constantly pushed himself beyond his limits? Warging is a skill; you have magic in your blood, as I do, but the magic needs to be trained, just like how I built my dragon riding skills. I was born with the magic to bond with dragons and ride them, but I did not magically wake up with a strong bond between Sliverwing and me. I worked hard for years with her to build our bond; there were days I was too frustrated, but my father and mother both made me realize that forcing skills to appear quickly was not the route to go; it would have only hindered my bond and caused serious repercussions. So be patient, my love; your hard work will come to fruition.” 

Benjicot sighed, knowing his dragon princess’s words to be true. He kissed her back briefly before separating himself from her and asking for Jaesys. 

“Daemon has him, says that the Blackwoods have been hogging him for too long, and the boy also needed to know his Targaryen roots. His words, not mine,” replied Aemma as she stood from the bed, walking behind Benjicot and placing her hands on his shoulder. 

Mischievous, the princess smirked, pressing her body to her husband. She began messaging his tense shoulders, causing the raven-haired lord to groan. Leaning to his ear, Aemma whispered. 

“Besides, I felt you were going to be tense, so I decided to use this free time to release you from any tension.” 

Benjicot blushed slightly at his wife’s words. Determined not to falter, he decided to play on. “Oh, and what plans do you have, wife? Will you serve me on your knees and-” 

Ben sharply inhaled, seeing Aemma knee before him, and spreading his legs open. Aemma placed her hands on each thigh, squeezing them a little, making sure to keep eye contact as she replied. 

“What a wonderful idea, husband. Let me serve you tonight.” 

With that, she reached forward and grabbed Ben’s clothed cock messaging it and squeezing it for a moment before she freed it from his clothed restraints. She stared at it as it slowly started to harden and rise. Spitting in her hand, she grabbed his rod again, moving her hands in a circular motion and up and down. 

Ben groaned, spreading his legs farther, allowing Aemma to come closer to him as she spat on him, squeezing his cock before continuing with her motion. Once she knew he was fully erect, she leaned her mouth to him, placing a kiss at the tip before dragging her tongue slowly down to his base and enjoying his loud groan from his mouth. 

Benjicot felt like he was in paradise with an angel. As he placed his hand on Aemma’s head, he entangled his fingers in her sliver waves, tugging a bit, which prompted the princess to lick upwards before taking him into her mouth. 

“Fuck Aemma!” exclaimed Ben as he felt her warm mouth around him. 

Aemma smiled. Hearing her name coming out of his mouth in a pleasurable tone, she continued her attention to him, moving her head up and down and swirling her tongue around him like he was a sweet candy. She moaned, feeling his hands grip her hair harder, pushing himself deeper into her mouth. She begins feeling wetness pool under her. 

At hearing her moan, Ben began panting, feeling his release coming fast like a train; as he tried to pull her off, it only caused her to suck harder, which pushed him to the edge. Letting a loud grunt, he released himself in her mouth. Opening his eyes, he moaned loudly, seeing how his beautiful wife swallowed every single drop. She looked so angelic, her purple eyes slightly hooded, staring at him. With a smile, Aemma released him with a loud pop, kissing the tip again before she moved up and sat on his lap. 

“How was that for you, my love.” She whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Ben chuckled as he, too, wrapped his arms around her waist, dragging her body closer to him, causing her to grind on him. Both lord and princess quietly moan at the sensation. 

“Wonderful, you are a divine, sweet girl; now let me return the favor.” He stated as he kissed her hungrily. 

Aemma moaned again, allowing her raven lord to push his tongue into her mouth and explore the inside of her mouth. Still feeling mischievous, she lightly sucked on his tongue, which prompted him to growl in pleasure as he retreated slightly. Before she could tease him, she squealed when she felt him bite her neck. Her squeal quickly turned into moans again at feeling him attack her neck with love bites. 

Gasping, Aemma began to grind herself on him, feeling her husband’s cock awaken again. She moaned, feeling him against her. As much as she wanted him inside of her, she remembered the caution from the midwives: she shouldn’t lay with her husband until 3 moons after giving birth. Jaesys was barely turning two moons. 

“Ben, we can’t; the midwives warned against laying with you until Jaesys is 3 moons,” she whispered, although she didn’t want to stop. 

Ben kissed her again before replying, “I don’t have to be inside you to make you find your release angel. Take off your small clothes; I promise I won’t enter inside you.” 

Aemma, slightly confused, raised herself and did as was told. Once she removed her small clothes, she gasped at Benjicot’s stronghold, roughing, pulling her back onto his lap. She whimpered, feeling his stiffness nestle in between her folds. Ben placed his head on her neck, licking her neck and huffing as he felt her slick wetness coating him. Placing his arms around her waist, Ben began to move his princess, allowing his cock to slide in between her lower lips, savoring her moans and gasps. 

Aemma closed her eyes in pleasure, wrapping her arms around Benjicot’s head as she, too, began to move and grind herself on him, enjoying the feeling of him sliding. 

“Mmmhm, yes, Ben, just like that,” she whispered, for she only wanted him to hear how good she felt. 

Ben, wanting to hear more, began to roughly and faster grind himself to her, grunting at how much wetter she began. She was gorgeous, and she was his, and he was hers. No other man will ever compare to him, and no other woman can hold a candle to her. They were made for each other, and both princess and lord knew that thought to be entirely true. They were always meant to find each other. 

“Please, Ben, please..” Aemma began to plead, moving her hips faster, wanting to bring her release faster. 

“Please, my love, I can’t give you something I don’t know.” Ben taunted, although he, too, was coming close to his second release. 

“Make me undone…I need your release; I need you to bring me to ecstasy,” commanded Aemma, leaning her hips as she felt like she was going to burst. 

“Go ahead, sweetling. I will never deny you,” assured Ben, groaning as he and Aemma simultaneously allowed their release to flow over them. 

Both moaned at the sensation, holding on to each other until their ecstasy soothed over, panting. Both stayed frozen, smiling at each other. 

After a moment, Aemma kissed Ben sweetly, playing with the hairs on the back of his neck. Smiling at the kiss, Ben caressed her face. Allowing each other to feel their love for each other. 

“We should probably bathe before someone comes with Jaesys; I’d rather not see my father with our fluids still on us.” proposed Aemma, rising from his lap. 

Benicot laughed but silently agreeing he did not need to give his good father an excuse to stab him. Taking his wife into his arms, he walked them both to the bathing section of their tent. 

As the night progressed, Daemon finally returned the baby to his parents, wishing them goodnight as the young family prepared for bed. Jaesys snuggled in his bassinet, and the babe cooed in his sleep. Aemma snuggled into her husband, breathing in his scent as she allowed the realm of dreams to welcome her. Lastly, Ben, too, entered the realm of dreams. Two ravens flying around him welcomed him as one landed before him. Benjicot’s eyes widened, seeing the raven transform into his twin. His shock grew as the second raven flew down, Jaesys transforming out and landing in his uncle's arms. Davos smiled at the babe, tickling the baby as he turned to his younger twin. 

“Look at you, snagging a Targaryen princess, aye,” smirked Davos, watching as Benjicot openly gaped at him.

“What, the dragon got your tongue, Ben? Close your mouth before a fly enters; I don’t think my good sister would appreciate that.” Davos laughed as Benjicot glared at him. 

“How…what… how are you here? Where am I?” asked Ben. 

Davos shrugged, placing his nephew back in his father's arms. “Not sure, this could be your dreams or the realm in between; regardless, the old gods have decided to be generous with me and allow me to meet my nephew; he's a handsome bugger, isn’t he…a proud Blackwood, he will grow into.” 

Benjicot smiled, slightly agreeing with his twin: “He has Targaryen qualities, too; he has his mother’s eyes.” 

Davos nodded; the Blackwood genes were beautifully enhanced thanks to the Targaryen's otherworldly beauty in his nephew. 

As the twin brothers continued making small takes, Davos felt his time was coming to a close. As he expressed his thoughts, Benjicot frowned. He was not ready to let go of his twin. 

Davos chuckled, walking to his twin and hugging him. Benjicot was always the sweeter of the two. 

“We are proud of you, Ben; Mother, Father, and I are all proud. You will lead our house to glory. You will be the first in generations to warg, allowing our allies and enemies alike to see the true power of having the blood of the first men. Continue on your path, brother; you will be successful. 

Sniffing, Benjicot smiled tearily at his twin, knowing their time was up. Walking away from the young father and son, Davos smiled. 

“Tell your princess I thank her for honoring our customs and that her brothers are safe with their families.” 

Ben gaped at the words. Nodding, he stared in awe as his brother transformed into a raven again, taking flight and flying away from father and son, with sweet little Jaesys cooing, his purple eyes following as the blackbird became smaller and smaller in the distance.

[nervousstarlightobserver]

Seraphim Eye Practice + Headcanons

(I made these well before the official episode came out so these are older designs)

These are the eyes that I have finished and I’m proud to share with the world. I have given the seraphim names and some head canons to go with them. I also aged up all of the seraphim outside of S-Snake because I love how baby she is.

S-Hawk is actually one of two. I don’t know how I got it into my head, but I liked the idea of Mihawk having twin seraphim. They came about like regular twins, but if they were tube babies.

They are both called S-Hawk and they were separated when they were very young. Both are overprotective of each other because of being separated. The one you see at the very top is Crowley and the one at the very bottom is Montoya. Inigo Montoya and Crowly. Both of the twins eyes were replaced with robotic ones. They can even change color! Blue for Docile, Yellow for Alert, and Red/Pink for Danger. There is also Green, but none of the Punks know why they turn green since they rarely flash green. 👀

Crowley has the cloned devil fruit; but Montoya, on the other hand, ate an actual devil fruit. I call it the Fuse-Fuse fruit! It is a paramecia type that can fuse two or more things together. Both organic and inorganic materials can be fused. He typically fuses with S-Gecko. Montoya and S-Gecko were placed together while Crowly was placed with S-Crocodile and S-Catapiller. Crowley doesn’t use a sword, instead he uses a guitar that doubles as both a gun and a battle ax. It is the turducken of weapons. I kept their eyes similar to their original design (manga) since that’s what I stared with. Not much to talk about. But both of their wings are like that of a crow and not a hawk. The Punks don’t have a lot of knowledge on bird wings apparently 🤷 Crowley has tons of piercings I just didn’t add/you can’t see any of them. He is very much punk rock vs. Montoya who is very elegant vintage.

I’ve been calling S-Crocodile Dharma. Dharma Al Dini. I had a different name that started with a D for Dharma but I forgot to write it down so I had to change it. After watching a play through of Venba, I got the idea of Crocodile being able to speak Tamil and eating Indian food and that’s how Dharma came to be. Dharma knows how to speak Tamil and how to cook. I also gave him an Italian last name because of the whole mafia theme Crocodile’s got going on.

I had an outline of S-Crocodile way before it was revealed and what I have written down is so far off from the original that when I look at the seraphim I’m like, “Why are you so different?” And then I remember that when I first met these characters we only knew S-Hawk, Snake, Shark, and Bear and we didn’t even know if they were conscious. Dharma is very soft spoken and is very muted compared to Crocodile. Crocodile exudes confidence and superiority. Dharma is a very gentle presence and, while confident, lacks the same authority and charisma his prime does. (I’m calling the OGs Primes so I don’t have to constantly write out their names).

I made his eyes a star bursts with light coming out of them. Kinda like a start shooting light. I changed his eyes to be more of a warm honey color than Crocodile’s harsh gold (before Toei decided to change Crocodile’s eye color for no reason). I really wanted to show the difference in their personality in an obvious way. I also gave him makeup around his eyes because I thought his face looked to bare and it became a theme for nearly all the seraphim. I made Dharma’s wings that of a sparrow’s due to that one cover story, also his wings are closer to his hips than his shoulders. His aesthetic is a casual glam. He look effortless and like an average guy, but also extremely expensive.

S-Snake is a very curious child. She is very sweet, adventurous, self-assured, and bossy. She is trusting to a fault that her older brothers are over protective of her. I have named her Yumi. Yumi Stone. She and the others discovered that her devil fruit doesn’t require that they actually look at her, in fact, you don’t even need to see her for her devil fruit to work. The only qualification is that there is love. She can petrify the other seraphim because they love her and each other. She has used her powers on couples and parents to try and test how far her powers can go. Her powers also have some healing properties to it. She is interning under S-Gecko to become a doctor (This is due to trauma which I will get to maybe never).

Okay, to start off, I love how cute I made her!!!! Look at her, look at my baby! She is the definition of adorable. Her eyes were the most fun and, shockingly, the easiest to come up with because I had the idea of making each of the seraphim have unique eyes (by the time I hit S-Flamingo I had officially run out of ideas and just said fuck it close enough). I made her eyes a light purple because I thought it would break up all the warm colored eyes I was doing. I added the rings and the mini-stars because I loved the idea of her having like a sorta planetary eye. I nearly did the rings for Dharma and S-Gecko, but I scrapped the idea because it was not working. I gave her some small eye liner because all of the others had some form of make up. I didn’t want it to be to extreme and wanted to keep it simple for her and it ended up in her eyes looking more owlish and it’s just—mwuah!❤️ Not on purpose but I fell in love with it. That small little thing has also made me head canon that her wings are like an owls. Her eyes are easily my favorite over all. Yumi doesn’t have any specific aesthetics, she just wears whatever she thinks is cute or what her brothers pick out for her. She can really be any of the boys aesthetics when she wants to be. Like one day she can have a biker jacket on and the next she’s wearing a gardener outfit.

Next Batch! And I won’t be starting with S-Caterpillar, I’m saving him for last 😉

S-Gecko’s name is Frankenstein. At this point you can already tell the second theme that I picked out for the seraphim is that they are all of their names are based off of different fictional characters because I like to think that they choose their names from their favorite characters!

Frankenstein was also the first one to be created. We literally do not know how long he was a warlord for, but we do know that he lost a shit ton of blood to Kaido way back when! I like to believe that Gecko Moria was the entire reason the seraphim program exists because waaaaayy too many people forget that in his prime he was an actual candidate for becoming an emperor/the pirate king.

Frankenstein (just Frank or Stein depending on whose talking to him) is very similar, yet extremely different from his prime. • Similarities include : both work with the dead, are tacticians, and are very heavy sleepers. Stein is a workaholic and the other seraphim rarely, if ever, see him since he mainly stays in his room. He is very abrasive and is regularly seen wearing a scowl, but he also has a wicked sense of humor that you don’t get to hear often and is even funnier because you don’t expect it. He is an actual certified doctor which is important to know because he is the other seraphim’s primary doctor, but his day job is to work as a mortician. Despite his job as a mortician, he’s very delicate with the bodies. He has never attempted to raise the dead like his prime. He has never held any shame or disgust towards a body. He will do small things that seem illogical to some, but he was always superstitious type. He will sing lullabies to dead and gently push hair out of their faces. He will recount his day like he was talking to an old friend or a patient. Stein is a religious person in a loose sense. He won’t pray to any god and swears like a sailor but he won’t go out of his way to actively piss off a spirit. Stein is Montya’s best friend. In my head their relationship changed from two people that knew each other in passing to closer than anything. Montya developed some pretty serious separation anxiety after he was separated from Crowly. Once he was placed with Stein he just clung onto him and never let go. Stein, despite being very much a loner and not really a people person, let him cling to him. When Montya’s eyes were replaced with robotic ones and were malfunctioning, he used his devil fruit to create a sort of cooling agent to stop them from overheating. They had small little moments like these that built up over the years in captivity that made them inseparable…literally. After Montya ate his devil fruit he was forced to go under a series of experiments to test the limits of his devil fruit. One where they used Stein as a “motivator”. After one world government agent took it too far, in a panic, Montya fused himself and Stein together. It took several weeks to get them to unfuse forcing the WG to drop the experiment altogether. The two of them still fuse from time to time just to feel close. Frankenstein is the only person Montya has ever fused with. Not even Crowley.

Stein’s pupils are actually two different colors! They are two, three way triangles. I originally tried making his eyes like an atoms but I scrapped that idea. His wings are similar to an albatross. He also looks like Moria at his prime. Also I do realize that I gave him eyebrows even though he doesn’t have any, but they looked too good to discard. His aesthetic is yeehaw goth (Mihawk better watch out cause he’s side eyeing your territory). It is polarizing to see him and Montoya together because of how different their personalities are but still are best friends, yet him and Crowly absolutely hate each other with a burning passion and only really tolerate each other when Montoya is around. The second he turns around they are already throwing down and throttling each other into the stratosphere.

S-Flamingo. Better known as Donquixote Sancho. He is the very antithesis of Doflamingo. Not in a “they look exactly the same but we are totally different” but in a “Everything I do, I do to spite you” kinda way. Sancho is a priest and is respectful to literally everyone but the people in power. He lives modestly and refuses to live outside of the bare necessities. He refuses to use Doflamingo’s devil fruit and doesn’t even see it as his own power. He uses a god damn sword that is made out of seastone all the way through just because he doesn’t want to use Doflamingo’s devil fruit. Sancho loathes Doflamingo with such a passion that he takes everything he knows about him and flips it on its head just so he can avoid being reminded that he’s technically his son (brother. Him-Something?). Doflamingo has short hair? He grows his out. Doflamingo has an atrocious, outrageous sense of style? Wears nice, plain clothing. You can see where this is going. The only reason I gave him sunglasses was because I didn’t think he looked like Doffy enough without them. Each of the seraphim are supposed to be recognizable despite not even having the same color palette as their primes so just ignore the sunglasses (now that I’m looking at the photo again I realize that I forgot to give him makeup). His wings are similar to a swans.

Now is the little bastard’s turn. S-Caterpillar.

Or better known by the others as Godbrand Puck.

Now let’s get one this straight about Godbrand. He is almost exactly like Buggy. In fact the world government would consider him their first perfect, and only, total success. He emulates Buggy to a T. He is loud, eccentric, and all around flashy. Normally the world government would consider this to be a flaw that they can just beat out of him if it wasn’t for one very special factor. He is physically incapable of feeling pain. He isn’t just called Godbrand for shits and giggles. He has been branded with both the Slave brand and the Word Government’s symbol multiple times. Not once did he scream out in pain. In fact he stared giggling the first time it happened. He even fell asleep during one of these “sessions”.

Puck is the only one without green blood because when Vegapunk was first experimenting he decided to lace the artificial devil fruit with the DNA to make the seraphim automatically born with the devil fruit. This lead to the interesting discovery that due to the nature of Buggy’s devil fruit and the inherent nature of devil fruits permanently changing a users body, Puck’s pain receptors were completely severed. They tested this theory on several other Buggy clones that ended up in total failures because of the Chop-Chop fruits nature to split apart. Some of them were missing limbs or organs, others simply didn’t form correctly like an arm coming out of the head or the eyes were placed on the neck, sometimes there were an extra set of something like a row teeth or more than one head. Because Vegapunk tampered with re-adding the devil fruit into Buggy’s DNA none of his clones came out right leaving only Puck. The Golden Child. A Miracle. The Best out of a series of total and utter failures left with an extremely desirable trait in the World Government’s eyes. A solider who could continue on without being held back by something as trivial as pain. Of course until you realize that “desirable trait” leaves him with the inability to seek treatment. Biting his own fingers off. Swallowing his teeth and chewing on his own tongue till it’s bloodied. Ripping out stitches and IVs. Walking on a infected leg that has completely rotted bellow the knee. After that Vegapunk vowed to never clone another the same way he did Puck. Both too risky and high rate of failure. Even if the clone does survive, their could be some unforeseen complications down the line. With him being unable to feel pain, he feels no fear. Remember when I said he was almost exactly like Buggy? What is Buggy’s most notable traits? He is a complete and utter coward terrified of pain and will do almost anything to avoid it. But Puck? With him unable to feel pain, he feels no reason to fear anything. Why feel fear a fate worse than death when that “fate worse than death” is just feeling pain? That little chip the WG and Vegapunks invented to make them unable to feel anything or disobey orders? That is merely a controlled shock that will make them feel excruciating pain. So with that in mind, can you see where this is going? That little desirable trait that they oh so loved in the beginning has bitten them in the ass because this insufferable little shit doesn’t follow orders unless he wants to. Oh sure he won’t be able to “properly” move for a while but can just use his devil fruit to still make it work. What “fate worse than death” can they make him feel? He can’t even experience something so universal to the human experience that he believes himself to be above it all. He’s better than humanity. He is better than the other seraphim because they are all held down by the temporary emotion known as pain. They are below him because they are held back by something so…unnecessary.

Puck is everything the Buggy pretends to be. Puck is confident, powerful, and better than everyone else. He’s basically God. At least in his own eyes. Puck is a raging narcissist, like clinical textbox definition of a narcissist. He like Buggy, but everything is cranked up to an eleven. If crazy was a kind of clock, Buggy would be a single full rotation. Luffy would be like twenty full rotations and then clockwise and then back again on the perfect level of fun crazy and absolute Eldrich abomination. PUCK would be the exact opposite of Luffy landing on the worst amount of self import delusional asshole. He thinks himself a God with the power to back it up. His blood is that of the seraphim, a species that was once considered godlike, and Buggy, an emperor of the sea. He is the nepotism of blood. He is every last one of Buggy’s WORST possible traits. He is a narcissist, psychopathic, asshole. None of the other seraphim like him or understand him. And he doesn’t like or understand them. Worst of all, he is just as much of charismatic genius as his prime.

This brat has the critically thinking skills as Crocodile mixed with Buggy’s chemical expertise and Shank’s level of haki control. On my first post, you can see Puck with four wings. Because Buggy’s devil fruit already allows him to fly, he uses his wings as living armory. He can separate his feathers to create either daggers or swords depending on the situation. He uses his armament haki to make his feathers as strong as steel. Or he can uses his feathers for recon missions (think Hawks from MHA). He can also use his devil fruit for a variety of other situations. He uses it for espionage and undercover missions. He can cut his hair or limbs to appear taller or shorter. He removes his wings, nose, his own dick and Adam’s apple (if the situation calls for it) to go better under cover. He’s also knowledgeable enough about surgery to perform top and bottom surgery to easily switch between male and female when going under cover. He has entire rooms fill of wigs, makeup, clothing, dyes, jewelry, and other accessories specially for him. All his years undercover has made him an excellent actor. He knows what to say to get them to do what he wants. He knows how to persuade someone. No matter how much the others hate him, they have to admit, he is damn good at what he does.

For his design to most important thing to me was clown. I wanted to nail that performer look without making it too much or too bland. Buggy’s makeup is iconic. I’m like 90% sure Buggy has an egg. So I wanted to nail that Star of the Show look without butting into his territory. Of course I gave him Star first to not alone tie in the whole celestial feel, but it was thematic. I originally wanted to add in a moon since he already has a Star and a Sun but it just wouldn’t turn out how I wanted so first thing I asked myself was, “What is some of the most iconic clown makeup?” Then I remembered. TEARS! You can see a small blue tear on his left eye for 1.)Buggy is a bit of a crybaby and 2.)I didn’t want it to distract from the star too much. For the heart and the spade on the top of his forehead, it ties into playing cards. The heart and the spade are from a childhood drawing of mine where I made a monster using the four suits. Diamond and Club for the eyes. Heart on the forehead. And Spade as the nose. I took that idea and simplified it down to make the forehead not look as big. His eyes are easily my second favorite because we have a lot of warm colored eyes so that made him standout a lot more. His eyes are also the only ones that aren’t totally connected. All of the other seraphim’s eyes are very soft in some kind of way, Frankenstein being somewhat of an exception. All of their eyes are rounded in some kind of way. Dharma has a lot of curves to his eyes. The pointed edges of the twins, Yumi, and Sancho has been rounded off. Hell, even Frankenstein’s eyes have rounded lines in them to make appearance softer. Pucks eyes are completely sharp, there are no soft or rounded edges. Even the smaller stars are very straight and stiff. There is no softness in his eyes. There is nothing soft about Puck. His eyes are radioactive green. They are toxic. They are dangerous. They are tempting. He is the prettiest poison you’ve ever seen. His makeup, his nose, his hair and clothing are all attempts to make him appear softer than he really is. And of course, if you’ve seen my drawing of him, his wings are based off of duck wings. 1.) It’s a pun because Duck>Puck. Pretty self explanatory. And 2.) To make him appear weaker than he really is. You don’t look at a duck and think, “Total Murder Monster Hellbent on Making the World Kneel to Him”

Sorry for the long post. This is the longest I’ve ever written on this website so far and I had a lot I wanted to say before we got any new chapters or episodes that totally debunks any of my theories or lore. Maybe I’ll add on to this post by making the seraphim and their primes interacting with each other for the first time. And I hope you enjoyed! You can ask me questions if you want.

[2dmenenthusiast]

"You gonna make me?"

(John Price x Gn!Reader)

Jesus christ I've never finished a fic faster in my life. I'm absolutely feral for this man istg. Also, I 100% don't know shit about sparring or the military. Thank you

Feedback and Reblogs are encouraged and appreciated! <3

Summary: You made a mistake on the field, and your teammate got shot because of it. Safe to say, your Captain is less than happy.

Reader's callsign is Sting

Words: 3.6k

Warnings/Other info: references to injury, blood mentions, lots of fuckin guilt, this is smut free besties, just my mediocre attempt at writing fluff, reader is gender nuetral

The phrase “seeing red” couldn’t begin to describe the white hot rage that seared up your spine and wrapped tight around your neck like a noose. You just got back from a meeting with your Captain, and he had reemed into you like you wouldn’t believe. It was a bad call in the field, completely your fault. Soap got a bullet in the arm because of it, and you couldn’t stop beating yourself up over it. And while your anger directed at yourself was enough to have your fists clenched so tightly that you left crescent shapes in your palms, the reprimanding you got from Price left you vibrating with rage. You were ready to lash out like a cornered, rabid dog, biting at the hand of anyone who reached out. Which is why you found yourself in the training room on base, throwing jabs at the punching bag like it just insulted your mother.

The stinging of your knuckles through your wraps should've been a signal for you to stop and take a rest, but the screaming thoughts in your brain had you persisting, the solid, repetitive thump of skin meeting leather echoing throughout the empty room.

“Woof, remind me not to piss you off.”

You huffed out a breath, movements finally coming to a stop as you rested your palms against the bag. Sweat trickled down your forehead, chest rapidly falling and rising with each chased breath, and Gaz stopped a few feet away from you. A grey muscle tee sat loose on his torso, paired with black gym shorts. You quickly assumed he was here for the same reason you were, and while you had no reason to be mad with him, you couldn’t help but feel frustrated by his presence. You just wanted to be left alone with your thoughts for a few hours, take a long shower, and then go to bed.

“You wanna go a few rounds?”

You raised a brow, fist resting against your hip. “You sure?”

Gaz shrugged. “You look like you need it.”

You let out a humorless chuckle, clapping Gaz on the shoulder as you passed him. Okay, maybe the company didn’t sound so bad anymore. You quickly adjusted your wraps and shifted your neck, feeling the muscles tense and pull. “Just don’t go easy on me, alright?”

Gaz gave you that dazzling white smile, one that would have people stopping in their tracks, but it vanished as soon as it appeared once he came at you. Gaz was young, spry, his speed certainly giving him an upper hand compared to his big and burly comrades. He was light on his feet, easily stepping back when your fist swung out, and he was in your space the next second, hand pushing against the center of your chest and his foot sweeping your ankle. You landed on your back with a thud, the mat breaking most of your fall, and Gaz clapped his hands together.

“Alright, keep gloating Kyle,” you chuckled, grasping his hand when he went to help you up.

“I’m just lucky to catch you off your guard.”

You huffed, lips tilting up in a bitter smile and rubbing the back of your neck. “Yeah, seems like that’s been happening a lot today.”

Gaz’s expression immediately dropped, and he shook his head. “No, hey— I didn’t mean it like that—”

You waved him off. “It’s fine. Let’s go again.” 

You were relieved when he lunged at you without question, and you both moved around one another in a less than graceful dance. Gaz always had your back. Whether it be in the field or on base, he knew what you needed from him, and he was more than willing to let you throw him around a bit to get some of your frustration out. 

And maybe you haven’t thought about it much before now, but you were grateful to consider Kyle a close friend. 

Punches were thrown and blocked, and he actually got you pretty good in your side, the sudden force and the sting afterwards sending a rush through you. By the time he was spent, sweat dripping down his forehead and his limbs feeling the slightest bit of fatigue, you were on your back with his back pressed against your front, arms wrapped around his neck and legs trapping his hips. He struggled to get out of your hold, gripping your forearms and attempting to pull them away, but then there was a loud squeak of the doors opening, and you both paused as your Captain came sauntering in the room.

“That’s enough. Let him go.”

The deep timbre of his voice made a feeling you couldn’t quite place surge through you. It settled deep in your bones like sweet, thick syrup, and the look he pinned you with set your skin ablaze. 

Trembling limbs fell to the ground as you released Gaz, and he stood with a huff and quickly helped you up. His hand clapped against your back in a reassuring manner, his way of trying to cheer you up from the impending doom you were about to face, and he jogged over to Price. They muttered hushed words, shooting quick glances your way. The sight made anger flare up inside of you. What were they talking about? Was it about you? Was it about your royal fuck up today? 

An unintentional growl resounded in your throat, and you began picking at your wraps, the sweat collecting under the fabric making your skin itch. It was only now that you finally took notice of the blood seeping through the cloth, and the sight took your mind back to the field. The shouting. Echoed gunfire. Soap’s blood pooling under your hands and seeping through your fingers as you desperately called for Evac.

“You’re gonna be fine. We're gonna get you outta here, okay?”

It should’ve been you.

A low whistle drew your attention, head snapping up to watch Price as he sauntered towards you. Gaz gave you an anxious smile and a thumbs up from behind him, and you frantically shook your head with widened eyes.

Don’t go, don’t go, don’t go—!

He left.

Dammit!

With a deep sigh, you avoided looking at your superior and walked over to your duffel resting on the bench, rummaging through it to find your water bottle. As soon as the water hit your dry tongue, you desperately took deep gulps of it, some of it spilling out the sides and sliding down your jaw. You finally looked at Price while you capped the flask, catching his gaze follow the water droplets that slid down your neck and under your shirt. You pretend like the sight doesn't shoot blistering heat through you and begin packing away your things.

“What do ya think you’re doing?”

“Leaving. What does it look like?”

If you were anyone else, you’d be scared to talk to him like this. And if you knew what was good for you, you’d reign your attitude in. But you weren’t about to roll over and show your belly, and a sick, masochistic part of you wanted him mad. 

“No. You’re not done yet.”

You barked out a sharp, sarcastic laugh, tossing your things aside and whirling to face Price. He wore that same serious look on his face, eyebrows set deep and his gaze narrowed. You tried not to focus on the crows feet that danced around his eyes, because that’s not what’s important right now and you should be upset with him. Not admiring the little details on his face that you’ve secretly come to love. Or looking at the way his arms flexed when he crossed them over his chest.

“Who says?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “I do.”

Closing the distance, you mimicked his stance. “You gonna make me?”

A smirk spread across his features, and if you had a death wish, you would’ve slapped it right off him.

“Oh, I’ll do more than that, sweetheart.”

The pet name sent tingles down your spine that you refused to acknowledge, replacing those fluttery feelings with the rage you felt bubbling up inside of you. At this point, he wanted you to hit him. And he couldn’t be upset with you if you followed through with it, right?

He gestured with his head. “On the mat, soldier.”

Letting out a disgruntled huff, you reluctantly did as he instructed, like an obedient little dog. He was your Captain, you were supposed to follow orders. But the idea of letting someone yank you around and instruct you like a marionette made your blood boil and the veins in your forehead pop. But another part of you knew deep down that if you really didn’t want this, Price wouldn’t make you. You were just too stubborn to acknowledge it at this moment.

Once you were a good few feet away from him, you got into proper stance, feet spread apart and firmly planted, your weight evenly distributed. He copied your position, nodding his head to let you know he was ready, and you began circling each other. It was a waiting game, the clock ticking down as you anxiously waited for one of you to strike first. And despite everything in you saying to let him come to you, your eagerness and impatience got the better of you.

You lunged first, fist flying towards him which he easily deflected. You hit his solid forearm instead of what you were aiming for, and the quick jab in the same spot Gaz hit earlier had you stepping back with a growl.

“What happened today?” he asked. No. Demanded.

Your jaw clenched tightly, teeth painfully grinding together as you came forward again. “I don’t want to talk about it!”

Price gripped your arm and yanked you forward, spinning you so your back was pressed flush against him, and his arm wrapped around your throat. 

“You were impatient! You ignored a direct order, and it got your teammate a bullet in the process.”

With a strangled cry, you bent your knees and used your weight to push against Price, using the leverage to flip him over your back. He harshly landed on the mat with a pained grunt, and you scrambled to plant yourself on his chest, shins pressing down on his arms and your thighs framing his face. Of course, you’d imagined this scenario once or twice before in the privacy of your own room, but you didn’t picture it happening quite like this.

“So what do you want me to do? Go back in time and fix my mistake?! As much as I’d like to, I can’t!”

His hands came up to grip your thighs, pushing himself up off the mat and slamming you on your back, the air effectively leaving your lungs. His hands were on your hips the next second, flipping you on your stomach so fast that the room spun, and he had you pinned before you could even blink. There was a solid arm pressed harshly against your shoulder blades as Price straddled your hips, using practically all his weight to keep you down. You tried reaching back with your hand to grab ahold of something, anything, but he trapped it in his ironclad grip and pinned it beside your head.

A frustrated noise left you, slamming your fist into the mat as angry tears gathered under your eyes. You knew Price was trying to teach you a lesson, but couldn’t he understand that you’ve already screamed at yourself the exact same words he was throwing at you?!

He leaned down, and the scent of expensive cigars and gunpowder filled your senses. It was like he was slowly taking over every part of you, his touch and his smell seeping into your skin until all you could think about was him. Molten heat surged through you, settling deep in your belly and sending your pulse skyrocketing. You were sure if he placed his fingers just right, Price could feel your heart beating erratically in your wrist.

“You’re a good soldier, Sting. And you know it. Don’t make me regret putting you on my team.”

His gravelly voice was like thick smoke, sending you in a haze as you pressed your forehead to the mat and let your body relax underneath him. You hated to silently give up like this, but your body and your mind was tired. The only place you wanted to be more than underneath your Captain was in your bed.

“Whoa. Am I uh, interrupting somethin’?”

Head snapping up, you spotted Soap by the door, a grin slowly appearing on his face as he leaned against the wall. You were quick to spot the bandage wrapped around his shoulder, and Price lifted off you when you tapped the ground twice. You appeared at his side in less than a second, eyes zeroed in on his wound, and the guilt was eating at you all over again.

“God, Johnny. How are you feeling?”

He shrugged his uninjured shoulder. “Been better. Doctor thinks I’ll pull through.”

He was joking. 

He… had a fucking bullet in him because of you, and he was standing here, smiling and joking with you.

Why?

Why wasn’t he angry? Why wasn’t he cursing and screaming at you? How could he even fucking stand to be around you right now?!

Your head gently shook back and forth, eyes cast towards the ground and your jaw clenching so hard it made your ears ring. “Soap… I’m so sorry. I—”

“Did you put the bullet in my arm?”

Your gaze lifted, his brow raised at you. “Well, I mean, no. But—”

“Then stop worryin’ your pretty head. I should be good for field duty soon enough.” You saw his gaze shift downwards, and his brows knitted in concern. “Though, I think you should be more concerned about yourself there, Sting. Jesus.”

You followed his line of sight and looked down at your hands, blood soaking through the wraps around your knuckles. Rough fingers wrapped around your wrist, gasping when Price suddenly lifted your hand up so he could inspect it. His eyes then landed on your face, and you shrunk under his disappointed stare.

“Bloody hell. Come on, let’s get you sorted out.”

Tugging your hand out of his hold, you gave Soap a tight-lipped smile and brushed past them. By the sound of heavy boots thumping against the floor, you figured Price followed after you.

“And where’d you think you’re going?”

You refused to stop, so bullheaded in that moment that he’d probably have to tackle you to get you quit. “The infirmary.”

You heard his footsteps stop, relief filling you for just a second as you thought he’d finally almost left you alone.

Almost

“Sergeant!” he barked.

His voice stilled you, back straightening like your spine was being pulled up by a string. Silence filled the space between you, and you were hyper aware of your breath filling and leaving your lungs, the sound of it almost too loud for your own ears. When you finally turned to face Price, his intense stare sent a chill through you, and your chest shuddered with an anxious breath when he held up his hand and curled his middle and index finger towards himself. 

With one foot in front of the other, you slowly closed the distance between you two, a million little thoughts running rampant inside your head. Price either didn’t know how intimidating his presence was, or he knew all too well. Either way, the gaze he pinned you with pierced right through you, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d swear he was able to read your mind.

Hopefully not. If he heard what you thought about him late at night—

Shut up!

Stopping just a few feet shy from him, you held his stare for a moment before he turned, gaze falling on his broad back. The way his muscles shifted and flexed under his tight shirt almost stopped you in your tracks, and you scolded yourself for acting like such a lovesick fool before obediently following after him.

Aren’t you supposed to be angry with him?!

Why? All he did was point out your mistake.

A mistake you’ve relived over and over again until you wanna blow your brains out.

When you made it to Price’s office, he opened the door and wordlessly gestured to one of the seats in the room while he rifled through his desk. You sat without complaint, hands gripping your knees and focusing on your bandages splotched with red. When he found his first-aid kit, Price grabbed another chair and slid it in front of yours. His knees gently knocked into yours when he sat down.

“Alright, lemme get a look at you.”

Your fingers flexed, and you lifted one of your hands to place it in his. He was gentle when he gripped the edge of the fabric and began unwrapping your hand, and the stark difference between now and how he was when you were sparring would’ve surprised you if you hadn’t seen this side of John before. He was gentle and kind when he could be, always making sure his team got a proper looking at after missions, scolding you when one of you stubbornly let a wound go untreated. He cared about you, no doubt. Anyone was a fool to think otherwise.

The wraps uncomfortably pulled at the skin around your knuckles, the blood making it stick, and you let out a hiss. Price didn’t pause or stop, and you were grateful for it. You didn’t want him to treat you as weak or take pity on you. Not when you didn’t deserve it. It was only when he was wiping the blood away that you finally spoke after a prolonged silence.

“It should’ve been me.”

Now that gave him pause. The wipe froze against your skin for a split second, and he let out a sigh through his nose as he tossed it into the bin before grabbing a new one.

“And why do you think that?”

You didn’t answer right away, searching around the room as if you’d find the answer residing in a hidden corner. You were ashamed. What if Soap got killed today? How could you live with yourself knowing that his death was your fault? Your hand shook against his, and Price carefully tightened his hold to steady it.

“It was my fault. I should’ve taken the bullet, not him.”

Once Price was done with your left hand, he moved on to the right, giving it the same treatment. He shook his head. “Awful things happen to good soldiers that don’t deserve it every day. You can’t control it.”

“But I—”

“But,” he sighed, thumb gently pressing into the back of your hand, “you need to listen to orders, Sergeant. You’re lucky the bastard didn’t nag ‘im in the head.”

You nodded. “I’ll make it right, Captain.”

Once he was done patching up your hands, you moved to stand, but his hold on your hand didn’t falter. Rather, his hand snuck up your arm and pulled you back down into your chair, his lips quirking up in a small smirk.

“I believe you’re forgettin’ something, darling.”

Your eyes narrowed, leaning an elbow against your knee. You tried to remain tough, but you could feel your resolve turning into mush the more you stared into Price’s eyes. “You still expect me to kiss you after all the shit you said to me today?”

His smirk only grew, and his eyes crinkled up around the edges.

Fuckin’ cute bastard.

“Do I have to order you, soldier?”

You scoffed, pulling your arm out of his grip before suddenly maneuvering onto his lap. His hands immediately found their home on your hips, giving them a possessive squeeze, and you rested your arms against his shoulders.

“I think you can save the powerplay act for later, John,” you muttered.

He mumbled a quiet “Yeah?” as he stared at your lips, the word devolving into a soft sigh once you leaned down and pressed them against his own. Arms wrapped around your waist and squeezed you to John’s chest, your nose gently knocking against his as he chased your lips every time you pulled away. You cupped his face in your hands, and the roughness of his beard tickled your skin.

Could be tickling somewhere else right about now—

Jesus christ, shut up.

Price was always deep and intense when he kissed you, trying to pour every bit of love he had for you in each one. It felt like he stole the breath right out of you, your thoughts swirling and your mind hazy. He knew exactly what to do to turn you into putty in his hands.

“Where is it?” he muttered against your lips, and you reluctantly pulled away with a gasp as you tried to catch your breath.

Reaching under your shirt, you tugged at the chain securely hidden underneath it and pulled it over your head, dropping it into John’s awaiting hand. He smiled, fiddling with the clasp before cool metal slid over your finger.

“You should wear it more.”

Your brows drew together. “I thought you didn’t want to tell anyone?”

“We don’t have to. I just like seein’ it on you.”

Your lips slowly split into a grin, and you looped your arms around your fiancé’s neck. His large hand gently ran up and down your back, sending pleasant chills down your spine. With the way he looked at you, you’d do just about anything for him.

“I’ll wear it all the time then.”

Tagged: @latinxs-himbos-and-cowboysys

[endlesscolddreams]

Why fruk? All they do is fight!!! That's exhausting and toxic

I know I took a long time to reply to this but I wanted to have time for it.

There are many reasons, from the usual rivals to lovers to the doomed lovers and gravitational forces that keep clashing to the lovely reason of face family (children), but I'll admit, I don't think face family is a thing. While I do love it, I don't think it's realistic at all in nation aus, they're too young and focused on ambitions and other matters; besides, they'd never join to raise the kids because France is not a parent, only when kids are older and interesting; England mellowed to kids with age, but he was a brat himself, America was the one pulling the strings like only a child does, tbh. 

I could give you many reasons, from their personalities to the fact that there's not a single soul that knows them better than the one who witnessed all your failures and victories, but I decided to address the point you make about it being exhausting.

It is, but at the same time, it's invigorating.

As someone who comes from a house of maniacs who always fought, I'll admit I don't understand it that well sometimes, but there's a point to be made here, and that is: love is not enough.

These two are really good to showcase this point because they do love and hate each other like no one else, and that's not enough. I think that's the main appeal of this ship tbh.

Their love is not enough to be together, not enough to be apart, not enough to ignore the other, and not enough to lower their guard and properly try. And isn't that the most humane and real fact? I do gravitate towards them in all the ways they're portrayed because of it. You can make them sweet, you can make them less proud, and you can make them human and fragile, but in the end, they're who they are and will always fight. But while they do fight a lot, they are used to it; they're desensitised to it, even if it looks toxic or abusive. They have a mutual understanding that no one—them included—can understand properly, but it works for them, which is enough to make them crave this push-pull relationship.

They are ancient, they are used to a certain level of cruelty, and their morals are flexible. Besides,  they have thick skin and don't care about certain words or violence. They are and always will be opposites, that's how they operate, their role in the world, and how they feel comfortable acting, because that's what built their identities up and carved their name in history.

(BTW if their hate was really deep and vicious, they would use Canada and America against each other, and the lack of shippers of frus and engcan tells me that maybe people do get that deep down they don't hate each other.)

They're also sadomasochistic in complementary ways. They both enjoy causing each other pain.

As I see it, France is more of an emotional sadomasochist; he finds real pleasure in humiliating people, and tears can be aphrodisiac in beautiful individuals, so it's a treat when he can't wrap someone in his fingers, and England doesn't give him that pleasure. He also enjoys feeling pain; he is that one individual who abides by the rule that the most pleasure can only be obtained with a certain amount of pain, and he does love teasing but can't handle it himself. Who else can fulfil his inner desires? Even those he will never admit he has? England will because he sees who he really is underneath his well-made web. England can make him feel his own poison, and as much as it's infuriating, it makes him addicted to more, and he won't deny himself that pleasure. (No pleasure goes to waste for that guy)

England craves something more physical and cathartic, so he enjoys when the other presses and doesn't give up when he doesn't give them the pleasure of showing his pain (he is too proud, really). He also has a sharp tongue that hurts people without his intent, so he needs someone who loves himself enough to not break with his vitriolic words (France loves himself too much to believe his words). England also enjoys hurting and being hurt; it can be relieving and usually clears his mind, as little does. Besides, it's a win-win situation because France also looks his best trying to contain his tears at his feet and is amazing at teasing England until he breaks down without taking advantage because he prides himself on being a good lover above all, even his own desires sometimes, which can be reassuring to someone as jaded as England.

There's also the fact that he does enjoy playing the game. England enjoys mental games, and this is pretty much an even one; sometimes he breaks, sometimes France breaks, which will never cease to be a motivator to keep it up despite that nasty fact that France enjoys reasons to do things, emotions, and all that crap. France is invested; he finds it fascinating in several ways and longs to be the one to really understand England or make him fall for him, whichever comes first (he lacks self-awareness sometimes for such a self-proclaimed wise nation). And England is, underneath all his bitterness, a little romantic, so he quite enjoys being pursued, so why not? At least the frog is one of the best-looking nations, despite his many flaws. (I will admit I don't really portray England as tsundere as the anime makes him but the fact still is that he will never be open about his desires, will never be dovey and sweet as France wished him to be but France kind of grew to like that part of him too, despite not being cute)

I could also add the fact that they're both dominant. That's another point of contempt but also complimentary; I'm simply in love with the idea that they switch up and France is that annoying dominant bottom who uses England as he wishes, not really realising that England quite likes being used like that (cough, cough, English vices). They never win with each other because they end up unwillingly giving each other reasons to keep up.

France calls it fate, England his curse. Either way, they'll always be connected by history, geography, and even humanity.

I rambled my way around the point, but the thing is, they enjoy this game, (It's their game) and yes, it can be tiresome.

Sometimes they really need to step out and give it a rest, but they're both confident enough to know it's temporary. They'll cool down when things get too bad and then call each other to gossip about something and find each other in the same bed in a single day, not really knowing how but thinking that yes, they actually missed that annoying guy.

Personally, I don't see them fighting all that much, but they do know where to poke to provoke, and France is usually the one poking because he needs drama in his life, and England gets bored easily, so he needs a push to keep lively, but they do know where to stop. (England goes along with it because it suits him and everything is boring; he keeps thinking too much, and this way he's engaged in something that's not self-destructive for once. France just lives for the movie life the drama queen)

So, they don't fight as much as you'd think; it's mostly for show because they need to be the antagonist force, and it's mostly about their differences in handling things and views that usually don't stray all that far, so it's reserved for their nationhood things. The fact that in Canon France demands to fight/argue with Germany also adds to my view, because who will counter him now? (He needs that voice of reason/oposition/ there; it's just unnatural to not have it there.)

So yeah, it can be tiresome, but in a comforting way. Is that a good reason to ship them? Maybe not, but there's no doubt they make a compelling case. Be it hate or love, they're not indifferent to each other, and that's a fact.

Sorry for the long rant but I've received like 3 questions about fruk and I joined most points here.

[v3nusxsky]

My dove!|fluff

Prompt~ based off the TikTok sound "is she your girlfriend girlfriend or are y'all just talking? Bitch if I kill you are you dead dead or just not breathing"

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

When the school received news of the new readers, Lesso was furious. A liability. Another obstacle to hold evil back from finally beating good. After all evil hadn't won for years now. What use would a reader be? Well it was then and there she decided you would not hinder her goal. Evil would beat good this year. And she would do anything to achieve that. Nothing was off limits for her. After all a world where evil isn't as powerful as good is a world out of balance. Some silly reader wouldn't be impacting that. Or would she?

The day you arrived at the school, petrified and alone was the day she realised her plan to win would be a treacherous path. A reader. A never that looks like an ever. God what had she been tortured with now. How would you be of use to her? Of course Lady Lesso hated move in day. After all she had once experienced being ripped from her house in Gavaldon and transported here. Although she likes to tell her self she didn't look as pathetic and petrified as you did. No evil knew no fear. And Lesso was perfectly evil.

The first class with you drove Lesso mad. You had absolutely no knowledge on how to be evil. God you couldn't stop day dreaming. It was damn right infuriating. No one had the guts to not pay attention to the great dean of evil. But you. Y/n of Gavaldon seemed to have no fear. Did you not know of what she could do to you? The insistence of the young reader was admirable really. But regardless it made Lesso work harder. You wouldn't stop the goal of winning.

Soon enough you wormed your way into Lesso's thoughts. No matter how hard she tried to shake you from them, you were just there. Constantly. Like a thorn in her side. You clearly weren't happy here. It was obvious. Even a trip to the doom room hadn't sorted you out. God what was she to do with you. No see the trip to the doom room had only ignited feeling in the reader as well as Lesso herself. She was her usual intimidating self. The kind that would have most normal people cowering from her whimpering in submission. But not you. No. You just flushed Scarlett unable to remove your gaze. She stalked towards you, like a fox and it's prey. Nothing phased you. Even after seeing the collection of items the doom room held, you weren't fearing her wrath. Lady Lesso isn't one to get side tracked. But you intrigued her. She just had to understand what was going on. Why didn't you fear her? And why won't you leave her mind?

It was only when the frustration of its peak that the issue resolved itself. Lesso lost her temper at your ignorance in her lessons. As the rest of the Nevers filed out of the room, she stalked you, waiting to pounce. You were always last to leave. Probably down to the fact you day dreamed so much you missed dismissal. Seeing her moment she went for it. Jumping into action and pinning you to the solid oak door. You audibly gulped, eyes flicking all other her body. The same flush reigning over your cheeks. Your teeth sinking into your bottom lip, hard enough to spill the liquid gold that hid underneath. The action alone is what caused the band to snap. With an almost animalistic growl the older women took your lips in her own. Tasting the delicious tangy taste of your blood. The moan found its way free of throat only to be swallowed by the bruising kiss. It was rough, passionate but oh so desired by you both. Only when breathing was a necessity did you pull back. Foreheads resting against each other as you caught your breaths.

Since the kiss, Lady Lesso felt as tho she was going insane. It's all she could think about. The feel of your lips on hers, the taste of your sweet blood that was thumping through your veins right now just waiting to be spilled and even the way your body felt pinned by her own. Insanity that's what this was. Frustratingly incurable insanity. Never to be stated. Needing this insanity to end, Lesso found the perfect time to pounce. Once you were all alone heading to the library she simple grabbed your arm and started walking off. You didn't even struggle just simply allowing her to do as she pleased. Only when you had been dragged to the perfect secluded spot did her lips find yours once again. This time her own milky white teeth piercing your lip. The taste of your oh so pretty blood was unmatched by anything else. And she wondered how it would look spilled on that beautiful pale skin of yours. The whimpers and whines you'd make she she began making it spill. This time it was you who broke first mumbling "be mine Lesso" onto her lips. Her dark chuckle met you. "Oh dove. You're confused. You. Are.mine" she all but growled out before capturing your lips once more.

Things became more bearable for Lesso now you were hers. She'd take you anywhere anytime she deemed fit. You submitted to her willingly. You were hers and that was clear to you both. Apparently just the two of you though. In class, Hort is trying his luck with you. Of course your protective girlfriend was eyeing the situation closely. How dare he try it with her dove. Hers. Not his. When Hort brought a hand to cup your cheeks Lady Lesso snapped. The secret would be out. But that would be more bearable than watching some one hair wannabe Werewolf touching what belonged to her.

"Hort" she growled stalking over, enjoying the slither of fear in his eyes. "Back away from my girlfriend!" She hissed out. The warning clear. The rest of the class intrigued. Did Lesso say girlfriend?

"Girlfriend? Is she like your girlfriend girlfriend or just girlfriend?" Hort puzzled out loud. God he really did have one brain cell and that's it. His pea sized, shrivelled up brain cell working overtime.

With a smack of her can just missing Hort cracked throughout the room. "Bitch if I kill you are you dead dead or just not breathing?" Her tone was threatening and dark. You knew your girlfriend was protective of what's hers, but to go that far? It made you chuckle and watch the scene unfold in front of you. Moving to stand by the side of the angry redhead.

The boy quacked in his boots literally and scampered off. God what a whimp. And with that Lady Lesso took you by the hand and lead you away. "Dove, you. Are. Mine. It seems you need a reminder." She growled at you before capturing your lips in a rough dominant kiss. Oh yes this reminder would be deliciously painful.

Word count~ 1228

*A/n ~ kinda like the possessive Leo. Now this could make absolutely no sense as it's been written at like 4:30 am but I actually kinda love it*

[a-tale-strawberry-flavored]

✨This post is a masterpost and will continually be updated! ✨

ASK BOX STATUS: OPEN!

Hi hello! Currently working on references and such so it's a bit slow! However you can send in asks some characters may not be available and some will be. Replies will be slow but there!

Strawberry Von Fru: Askable

#strawberry von fru character tag

Had lost her right horn and mother to a tragic accident while her dad was away on work, had a close relationship with her mother unlike her father who was too busy at the time...but after events he tried to better his relationship with his daughter, though Strawberry has adopted Frubble Fylass as her father figure and hangout around him constantly, the two work together and go on adventures often!

Gem Apple Frubble!Fylass/Fryinn: Askable

credit for inspiration belongs to @george228732

#frubble fylass/fyrinn character tag

A kind Frubble who has served as his home kingdom's knight was a loyal knight who's now retired and lives a life of a farmer however he does still wear his knight gear when he ventures with friends or by himself! Is the father figure to Strawberry Von Fru and few others.

Knight gear:

Waddle Dé Yore: Not Available..

A young Waddle of unknown genetic origins...often looked at as an outlier to waddle Dees has somewhat a bit of an odd reputation thanks to this. She works as a postal delivery girl for her village the wings despite being odd come in handy for her job. She's secretly a hero her village looks up to and carries a Trident as her weapon, staff when in casual attire.

[keebwee]

Ask game! Askin about fruhand ❤️✂️

(Hope I did this right)

u chose the greatest ones LMAOAOA. gonna be doin this with rottmnt fru since he's my favorite rn

❤️: What is one of your OC's best memories? - this is a tricky one. i think probably when he was a kid, before he accidentally killed his parents (whoopsies!). it'd be a simple domestic moment, but the fact that fru doesn't have them anymore (and the fact that it was so rare, seeing as there were constant arguments) makes it one of his best memories. maybe they're having a family cookout, im not sure. maybe they're playing on a playground and his parents are pushing him and his sister on the swings and down the weird slimy slides.

✂️: What is one of your OC's worst memories? - this is a tie between accidentally killing his parents at age 4-6 and when he was first forced into the nexus, and thus forced to kill someone his age in order to win the fight. he'd probably be around 10 at this time. big mama is a bitch.

to elaborate on the killing his parents thing, fru has magic that basically summons magic lions !! they look similar to familiars from skyrim. as a kid he had no control over them.

his parents were arguing, it got intense and when he walked into the room he accidentally got involved. he gets scared and his INNER LIONS COME OUT. RAGHHHH. CRAZYY.... they kill his parents and his sister runs away (she isn't found. she comes up later tho <3) THIS IS INSANE FOR A YOUNG CHILD TO WITNESS. so obviously he's traumatized. myrtle (my beloved) ends up taking care of him after that

[thirsty-boba-fett-posts]

Part IV of a fic that needs a name and, if we’re being honest with each other, a bit more direction. Eventual smut, but apparently I like a slow burn and lots of character development.

Parts I, II, and III are all available should you need them. I hope this fic finds the audience who needs it the most.

tw: rather large arachnids, misogyny, objectification, trauma, erotic longing, Daddy kink (if you squint)

…

She got along well with all manner of animals, domestic and otherwise, so what transpired when the small contingent of diplomatic emissaries, ministers plenipotentiaries, and a dull-eyed prince arrived should not have surprised Daimyo Fett.

The Princess was less inclined to wander than when he’d first met her on Brao, so after a few weeks Fett left her to her own devices. She still accompanied him into town with Fennec and the Gamorreans, but otherwise she was free to do as she liked. The Princess and Drash became fast friends, as he suspected they would. Drash was ill-suited to be the handmaiden of a princess, but that was just as well. What The Princess needed was a partner in crime. When he heard them giggling together, he was reminded how young she was and he felt a pang of guilt for finding her so attractive.

The contingent arrived at midday, hailing from The Princess’ home system - the neighboring planet Tilmov from which the system took its name. Fett, having spent the morning receiving tributes and hearing grievances, had seen neither hide nor hair of The Princess when 8D8 announced the names and ranks of each member of the pompous little flock of politicians and royalty. Somehow, Fett knew this was about her.

Fennec snorted audibly when Minister Plenipotentiary Sanroinov made the offer. In exchange for The Princess’ hand in marriage (as if it was Fett’s to give) there would be a surprisingly hefty dowry and a treaty with the acting Prime Minister of Brao absolving her of her father’s crimes and thus the death penalty.

“LEP,” Fett called to the ratcatcher droid. “Fetch the princess. Have her come to the throne room.”

Her fancy-bred tooka, having taken to Fennec, sauntered lazily into the throne room and made his way to her side. She lifted him up and held him in her arms like a baby.

“Fru, can you believe these pompous little dwarfnuts?” she murmured in her best approximation of baby talk.

Fett chuckled.

In walked The Princess, as regal as ever, carrying a burlap bait bag with a Dune Spider the size of an astromech droid trailing obediently behind her. Fett had seen The Princess and Drash in the kitchen teasing each other into fits of laughter as they crafted balls of gelatin and meat the size of black melons. He’d wondered at the time what they were for, and now he had his answer. As she approached the throne, Fett caught the expressions of genuine shock on the faces of the contingency from Tilmov. Whatever happened next would surely be entertaining.

“Princess, what have you got here?”

“Oh - I trained him. Look!”

She turned to face the Dune Spider and pointed her index finger into the air. The Dune Spider raised itself to its full height and clapped its front legs together in a threat display. The Princess clicked her tongue and reached into her bait bag for a meat sphere. She tossed it up high and the Dune Spider speared it out of the air with the sharp dagger of his front leg. The squelching sound of the gelatinous ball made one of the emissaries blanch.

“Ah, very good Princess!” Fett exclaimed proudly. “These men are here from Tilmov. The prince here has offered a dowry and a treaty of absolvement in exchange for your hand in marriage.”

The Princess stiffened. Her brows knit together.

Fett continued. “Have you any interest in marrying this prince?”

“No,” she replied, visibly nervous.

“Very well then,” Fett turned to address the Tilmov dignitaries. “You have your answer. You may return to Tilmov. Princess, run along and check the larder for sweetbreads and have 8D8 order as much as you need. Take your new pet with you.”

The Princess let go of the breath she’d been holding and her eyes brightened. She picked up her skirts and trotted off towards the kitchen, the Dune Spider skittering enthusiastically behind her.

“Respectfully, Daimyo, what use have you for a princess in exile?” asked an envoy with an especially cadaverous face.

“I think I could find some use for an army of trained Dune Spiders,” Fett replied with a chuckle. “You’re dismissed, gentlemen.”

…

Feedback would be lovely. I honestly have no idea where to go next. Requests are open.

[thehufflepuff02]

Chapter 4| A Turn for the Worse

Jake sat there with Neytiri in his arms, enjoying the comfortable silence that surrounded them. Jake rubbed Neytiri’s back with his free hand as she slept. It was a peaceful night, the moon shone bright, casting a beautiful light on the couple. Jake admired the stars, a soft smile gracing his face.

Grace and Mo’at had offered to watch the kids for the night under the condition that they don’t surprise anyone with more of them. Him and Neytiri were quick to assure them that won’t be happening. Right now anyway.

Jake’s eye caught something in the night sky, bring him out of his thoughts.

A new star in the night.

It was a ship accelerating . Heading straight for Pandora.

“Baby, wake up.” Jake asked Neytiri through his panic.

She sat up confused, still half asleep. “What ma Jake.”

Jake silently raised his had, pointing towards the ship, light years away.

“What the hell do you mean humans are coming back?” Grace whispered, her voice full of panic. Jake had woken both Grace and Mo’at up from their slumber the second they had made it back home, to the high camp.

“I mean what I said Grace, Skypeople are on their way back to Pandora.” Jake answered.

“He is right, I saw it as well. " Neytiri confirmed.

“But why must they come back?” Mo’at inquired.

“Ma, what’s going on?” Kiri asked, stepping out of the hut. The concerned whispers must have woken her.

“Nothing, sweetheart. Go back to bed.” Grace replied Quickly, nudging her gently.

“What is all the noise.” Little Tuk asked, her too, now awake.

“I don’t know why I spent all that time putting you all to bed if you all just decided to wake up less than three hours later.” Grace muttered.

“Come here, Tuk. " Neytiri said, her arms open for the young Na’vi to run into. Neytiri picked Tuk up in one swift movement, her daughter now rested her head on her shoulder.

Both Lo’ak and Neteyam walked out, visibly confused to why everyone was up. “Dad what’s wrong?” Neteyam asked.

Jake let out a long breath, dragging his hand down his face. “Lo’ak go wake up Norm, Trudy and Spider I’ll tell everyone together.”

One year later…

Jake flew over the trees of Pandora on his Ikran, Bob, the rest of the war party right behind him. Trudy drove her Samson above them, ready to help. They flew straight for the maglev that was without a doubt, bringing supplies to a sky people base.

“Ground team go!” Jake directed through the intercom.

Na’vi came out from the bushes, equipped with weapons and riding dire horse. As the Maglev grew closer, they grew angrier. This was their land and the sky people were destroying it. The Omaticaya and every other Na’vi for that matter had every right to be mad.

They threw grenades at the tracks. Within seconds they exploded, destroying the bridge. The Maglev was thrown off track and crashed, the different compartments flew in every direction, each one catching fire as they hit the ground. The whole area was engulfed in flames and smoke.

Jake dove down lower aiming his gun at one of the enemy Samsons. He tightened his grip on his gun and fired, taking down the ship. Neytiri did the same with the one besides him, only she did it with a bow and arrow. Jake found it much more impressing. They continued until all the enemy ships were destroyed.

Jake landed finally, joining the rest of the team. They began to raid the Maglev, stealing all of the weaponry inside. “let’s go people, let’s go.” Jake urged. The military would be here soon.

Above them Neteyam and Lo’ak watched for the sky people.

“bro, we have got to get down there.” Lo’ak said, turning towards his older brother. Neteyam could already see the excitement growing on his face at the though of helping with a raid.

“No way! Dad will skin us!” Neteyam argued, knowing it was no use.

“Come on. Don’t be a wuss.” Lo’ak told Neteyam, diving down to the ground.

“Lo’ak, get back here you….” Neteyam let out a groan of frustration. He too dove down towards the ground.

They could here Norm as they landed, instructing the war party. “We’re taking the mags, the RPGs, the stingers.”

“Bro, let’s go. Come on!”

“Lo’ak!” Neteyam tried again. It was no use, his brother was already getting off his Ikran and running right into the raid.

“Okay let’s go!”Lo’ak shouted.

“Take these weapons. Here boy go.” Lo’ak was handed a weapon. Neteyam was almost positive he didn’t even know how to use it.

“Lo’ak!” His younger Brother ignored him, shouting battle cries.“You don’t even know how to use it”

“Dad taught me.” Lo’ak smirked.

“Gunship’s inbound! Fall back!” Neteyam heard his dad yell over the cheering Na’vi.

A huge ship flew towards the destroyed Maglev, shooting missiles at them. The sky felt like it was raining missiles, explosions and fire everywhere.

“Bro, come on!” Lo’ak yelled as he ran from the fire.

Neteyam was right behind him running but he wasn’t fast enough. A missile shot down behind them, instantly bursting into flames and throwing them off their feet.

“Lo’ak where are you?” Jake yelled, running in the direction where his two sons went. The fire was burning hot as ig grazed his arms. “Neteyam!”

He spotted Lo’ak. He was alive. it felt like a thousand pounds was lifted off his chest. “Easy, easy, you okay?” he asked,grabbing his sons shoulders.

“Yeah.”

“Where’s your brother?”

“That way.” Lo’ak told him, pointing left.

“Where is he?Where?” Jake asked, standing up. “get outta here! Go on!” he ordered.

Jake began to climb the ruins of the Maglev shouting his eldest sons name. His heart sunk when he saw a trail of blood staining the metal. "

“Oh,no, no, no,” he quickly jumped down. “oh, god.” Neteyam lay there unconscious.

He rolled him over.

“Dad?” Neteyam asked.

“What are you doing here boy! what the hell were you thinking!” Jake raved, once he knew Neteyam was alive.

“I’m s…I’m sorry.”

Jake draped his son over his shoulder, running towards his Ikran’

“I’m sorry, sir.” Neteyam apologized again.

[kny-stardust]

Interlude II — Hantengu & ???

Word Count: 4650

Summary: When the old Hashira first met you, he just didn't want to see a young life being taken away by the demons. Later, as a father, he did not want to see another child of his to die in this meaningless conflict. He only understands that children are meant to walk their own path, even a risk life such as the Demon Slayers, when you're too far away for him to decide to let you live your life however you want.

You did. You actually did it.

He didn't want to believe it, but he knew it was not a dream.

You did cut that boulder in two, with a single strike.

In the end, all of his efforts were for nothing.

You far surpassed his expectations, and managed to learn a breathing technique on your own, without his help, despite his attempts of sabotaging you.

Hantengu didn't think much of you in the beginning. To his eyes, you were just another fool young that was messing with things beyond your comprehension. It didn't help that you had your siblings coming with you.

He simply couldn't understand. Many children came to him in search of power to take revenge on onis that have taken everything from them except their lives. And he turned them all down, making them give up and value more their lives, and live on without getting revenge. You weren't like them. You still had your family with you, even though two of them were no longer human. You could still live a semi normal life if you wanted, both you and your siblings. If you came to him asking for shelter and protection for your family, he would have welcomed you with open arms, even if it meant housing two demons under his roof. He would have done that, because then he would actually be helping someone, a young one like you, instead of wasting his time training you and getting attached to you only to sent you to the slaughter and then mourn your for it, to torture himself with this guilt, of not having done enough for you. Like it happened with his late friends and students.

That's why he tried to scare you at first, with that test and the initial training. All those harsh words, all that violence, his distance, it was to make you give up. His test to you had been much harder than it should have been at first, with that very purpose of making you quit. He managed to get that with much tougher children, especially boys. They usually either gave up during the test, failed it or quit the moment he said the actual training would be much harsher. He thought it wouldn't be much different with you. He actually believed it would be easier, since you were a girl.

Except you didn't quit. You accepted the challenge, for your unconditional love for your siblings.

So you were one of the stubborn ones, but how long would your stubbornness last against his training? He was generous when he thought you would give up in less than two months. Many didn't last half a month.

But you did. You actually continued everyday, even if your whole body was hurt, even if you were dead tired. And you still managed to smile so gently and so genuinely to him and your siblings.

Your smile... It reminded him so much of hers.

In the end, it was he who didn't last two months. He couldn't keep being that cruel to you when you still had that lightness in your heart. He stopped hitting you as hard and was less ruthless when training you.

However, that didn't mean he gave up on making you quit.

Oh, no... For the first time in quite a while, he was very determined, more focused on something other than his own misery.

He would NOT allow you to become a slayer.

He began to leave you to your own devices. He taught you the bare minimum and in an oversimplified version of what he was supposed to train you. He just taught you what he planned to teach you, showed you only once the moves and how to wield a sword, and never corrected you in anything. He knew that you would never actually grow, and hoped your frustrations would make you think you were inappropriate for the job and make you give up.

Don't get it wrong. You had potential. A lot of potential. Aizetsu words were enough for him to think so, and he thought that more after you passed his test. You could become a great slayer of trained properly. He saw it when you began catching up on what you were supposed to do, and your talent shone when Aizetsu stayed for a while and trained you. He was sure that if he gave you enough time, you would eventually learn how to use his technique, even though he put all those obstacles on your way.

So, he gave his ultimatum: to cut the boulder. And you had to do it on your own. He even went as far as to forbid Aizetsu from aiding you in any way. He was sure that this should be what would make you surrender, to give up this life and live a normal one.

This was really his last chance of making you give up. And the would not cave in this time. He vowed so. He would not see anyone become a slayer while under him! He had had enough! He had lost too many already! Friends, students, master, and even his own sons to this life! His only two living sons were neck deep in that life and he knew he could not take them away from it, but he could prevent you from ever entering this life! He was determined in not allowing you and your family in his life! He no longer saw you as just his students, nor your siblings as long term guests in his house. You were his daughter. Your siblings were his children too. He didn't want to loose you, to loose his family again! He couldn't. He wouldn't be able to bear the pain...

And yet, you continued to train. Day after day. Harder and harder. He could see you giving your all in your training. He heard you leaving before everyone woke up, and even making breakfast for them, and arriving much after they slept. You can take a slayer out of a slaying life, but you can't never take a slayer out of one, especially with someone who worked his whole life with that. That was how he knew how tired you were. How the dark circles under your eyes grew. How you became more and more thinner. How he saw more and more wound in your hands that he bandaged them in your sleep. He was having trouble sleeping just thinking that you would get yourself killed at that rate.

He was determined to put an end to this, when you suddenly... Changed.

You stopped arriving late and leaving early. You started spending more time with your siblings. You had meals with them, talked to them, played with them, you went to sleep with them, you were becoming healthier, like any girl of your age should be. To his eyes, you were living the life you were supposed to. There was just one thing that bothered him: you still left the house to train. You left after breakfast and returned before dinner. And he knew you were training because you always took Aizetsu's sword with you.

He kept his silence as he continued to watch your routine.

You still came back hurt from your training, somehow even more hurt than before. He was wondering how could a woung girl like you get so much wounds in your arms and legs. And you were being secretive too, bandaging yourself in your bath as to not show your siblings anything. What were you up to?

Then, you changed again.

It wasn't clear at first, but he soon realized that you coming back home earlier and earlier. And you weren't as hurt as before. You also seemed a bit mind absent, not hearing your siblings calling you until they pulled your sleeve, or just staring at something for a prolonged period of time with no real reason. One of your siblings even pointed that out, and you replied shyly that you were thinking of a couple matters and got to caught up on it, but that it was nothing for them to worry.

Nonetheless, you were spending more and more time with your family, playing with them, talking, joking, caring for them. He once caught you and your siblings dancing and you showed them a small dance that you had been practicing for some time, and that it was not ready yet. You were actually living the life he had hoped for you from the beginning, but you still climbed up the mountain and stayed there for a couple of hours before coming down.

Maybe you were giving up on that path?

He thought that until he heard you waking up early again, making breakfast to them and leaving before everyone woke up.

Oh, no. Not this again.

He wasn't going to let you go back to that habit of yours, that made you sick for weeks. He had had enough. After waking your siblings up and sharing a short breakfast with them, he set up to follow you to the mountain.

Today, he would be "sincere" with you and ask you to give up. The very fact that you didn't come to him yet showed that you haven't been able to cut the boulder. He would lie to you and tell you that if you couldn't do that, even after one year he gave you the test, that you should give up. Maybe... That was all you needed to give up the path of a slayer. It was low blow? Yes, it was, and he knew that, but he couldn't spend not even one day more with you wasting your youth like that. He just couldn't.

However, when he finally found you, you had cut the boulder. You had actually did it.

It was then that he fell and cried. He had promised you that once you cut the boulder, he would sent you to the Final Selection. He had to fulfill his words. He was about to sent you to slaughter! He was going to loose you too! But there was nothing he could do about it now, except be opened up with you.

He told you everything. All his feelings and thoughts. His sleepless nights worrying about you. The heavy burden he carried while lying to you. About all the people he lost due to this lifestyle, either by death or by not being able to be on the same page. He didn't spoke about his family, though, as even after years, that was a sensitive topic to him. Except this, he told you everything else.

And how you responded to that?

“I... I won't say I'm not upset that you tried to go against my wishes. I really am, because all this time, I thought I wasn't enough and you didn't train me properly because I wasn't worth the effort. But... I'm relieved that it wasn't the case, and that you were honest with me in the end. So, I won't blame you for anything, because all you've told me just shows that you really cared about me and my family, and that makes me happy, uncle.”

Oh, what did he, a sinful man, do to deserve such a sweet child as you? If only if you knew that those words of yours hurt him so much when he knew that he would have to send you to the Final Selection. He could only pray that you would come back to him and your family.

The day you left for the Final Selection, Hantengu couldn't sleep. The words you said as you went your way, left him stunned for the most of day, and echoed as ghosts of the past. More specifically, the names you said. Sekido. Urogi. Karaku. When was the last time he heard or said those names?

It was a couple years back. He still remembered it as clear as day.

His students had been unable to survive the Final Selection, which he found odd. Dying was something common in this line of work, which was sad, but he learned to manage his feelings. However, it felt like his students were being purposely targeted. How could this be? He first thought that he hadn't prepared them enough, but even though he made the necessary adjustments and some of his best students went to the selection, they still died. He only learned what happened when Aizetsu returned from his selection. He was the only one to return. None of his brothers were with him. And his son wouldn't stop crying.

“Father... Why...?” He asked him as soon as he returned home, grabbing him by the clothes. “Why haven't you told us that mother became a demon? You said that an oni killed her! Not that she had turned into one!”

Yes. He hid it from his sons. It was easy, since his boys were already big enough to take care of themselves and their younger sibling even if both him and his wife were away. She had left to meet her father to discuss something, and had yet to return. He received a message that she had already left for home, yet there was no news of her. When he looked for her, he found out why. She had been attacked and turned on her way back home. He found her eating a young couple on an alley.

By the rules, he would have to kill her, and she had already eaten human flesh, unlike your siblings. There was no way to save her other than killing her. But he couldn't do it. Not to his wife. Not to the mother of your children. He couldn't kill her. So he fought and weakened her, leaving long lasting wounds on her body, and trapped her in the Mount Fujisakane, where she could never escape. He had cut and damaged pretty badly her wings to make sure she couldn't fly away, even if she healed. However, he was sure that with how badly he hurt her, she wouldn't be able to survive the Selection that was close by. He told everyone, including his sons, that his wife had died. His boys cried, sure, but they managed to live on their loss, and he thought the same, until Aizetsu returned and said those words.

“She attacked us, father! Mother tried to kill us! She killed everyone! I saw her eating them with my very eyes!” His son cried as their entire world fell around them. “Tell me, father! Why did you lie to us?! Why?!”

There it was. His answer. The why of all his students, and now his own sons, died in the Final Selection. His wife was killing and eating them. This was his punishment for his weakness, for his soft heart. The love of his life killed his children and he was an accomplice.

The night the Final Selection began, Hantengu left his house. He place a Wisteria charm around the house. It was never too much to be careful, especially against demons. Hantengu took a spare sword he had and began climbing the Mount Sagiri until he reached the split boulder. In front of it was the swords he made for his sons, and around the clearing, the swords his students who died. He came here yearly, on the anniversary of their deaths, to pay respects, to apologize for their deaths. After all, it was all his fault.

They should have known that as well, as they never appeared to him, neither as a ghosts nor in his dreams, unless it was to torment him in his nightmares. And yet, they appeared to you, and they apparently even helped you. He could only suppose it was with training. They should not want anyone else to die by his and his wife’s hands.

Hantengu fell to his knees in front of the split boulder and began to cry.

“I’m monster. I’m well aware of that. I know that the only thing I deserve from you is hate and spite. I have no right to be here in front of you nor to ask you anything, but...” He sobbed as he pressed his forehead to the ground. “I beg you! Please! Protect (Y/N)! You must have seen her all this time training! She just wants to save her brother and sister! She has no fault! She carries none of my sins! I’ll endure anything you want to do with me, even killing me! I know I deserve the worst! I just beg! I beg you to bring her back home, to her family, to where she belongs!”

Silence was his only response. He was alone. And alone, he sobbed, trying to deal with his own misery and despair. Maybe solitude was his punishment for something in his past life, and he was doomed to loose all of those he held dear. He stood up, still cleaning the tears that stubbornly ran down his cheeks and turned to leave.

“My love?” A voice called him, making him stop. It was a voice that he hadn’t heard in years, only in his dreams, more as a torment than as a delightful memory, but it was sweeter than he remembered. He turned slowly, and there he saw her, with the white, flower patterned kimono he had given her in their last wedding anniversary, with the very same blue eyes he fell in love with so many years ago. “You’ve grown old, my love. What is it? Did you forget how to take care of yourself after I left?” She asked with a soft giggle, and it sounded like music to his ears. He just stared at her in disbelief, making her laugh again. “What is this now? Did a cat caught your tongue? My Hantengu was never at a loss for words.”

“(W/N)…?” He tried his voice, but it came out trembling. “Is it… really you…? Am I… dreaming?”

“I can assure you, my love, you’re very much awake.” She said as she took her hand to the side of his face, brushing off a couple lasting tears. Her touch was cold and it sent shivers down his spine. “Now, this is odd. I don’t remember you crying so much like this, except in our marriage and when Sekido was born. What’s gotten to you, my love? Did these ten years changed you so much?”

Hantengu couldn’t reply. He fell to his knees as he hugged her, crying his heart out. (W/N) didn’t say anything. She just held him close and caressed his hair.

“(W/N)! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” He told her between his sobs. “I shouldn't have left you alone! I should have gone with you! If I had, you wouldn’t have been turned! Then, our sons wouldn’t have…!”

“Ssshhhhhhh.” She shushed him, her long fingers passing through his hair. “It was never your fault. There was no way either of us could have known or prepared for it, however we knew of the risks of this life when we chose it, didn’t we…? Don’t apologize.” She says as she breathes in deeply. “If anything, it is I who has to apologize. I… was the one who took their lives... Of your kids... Of our children... I am... The only one at fault, here...” She says, sobbing as tears fall down her face. “I am so... So sorry, my love...”

“None of you is at fault.”

“It's no one's fault.”

Those voices catch the couple's attention, especially Hantengu's, who turns quickly to face them, his face going pale. From the middle of the mist-surrounded trees, many children come forth. Each of them was using a haori with similar pattern of his and also having a mask of distorted figures, long teeth and a pair of horns, either on their faces, holding on their hands or hanging by their hips. Hantengu remembered that his sons began to make those masks as a way of role playing among themselves and his students, pretending to be slayers and onis. They all went to the Final Selection with their respective mask.

They all looked at them with sympathetic eyes, and began to speak. One after the other.

“Mother's death was a shock to us all. We all mourned for days.”

“It was also a surprise when I found you at the Final Selection, as an oni.”

“I didn't understand at first, when I died, but I did later...”

“Mom, you weren't the same back then, were you?”

“Father used to say that once one turns into an oni, they are not the same as they once were.”

“But, I guess father still loved you, even as an oni, and couldn’t kill you, literally and emotionally.”

“Father always made sure that you would be remember by how you were, how you took care of us.”

“Because of that and the shock, I couldn’t even think of killing you. Any of us could.”

“I remember seeing Sekido, Karaku, Urogi and Aizetsu trying to bring you back to your senses, even as you attacked them.”

“We know now that father was trying to keep the memory of you alive his own way.”

“And that mother was not in her best mind and moment of that time.”

“So, we don’t blame any of you. We never did.”

“So, no hard feelings, okay?”

As they spoke, a new round of tears came out from the two adults, who became the children in the situation. The kids then gathered and trapped them in a big hug.

“We know it must have been hard, for you two.”

“We’re sorry we didn’t come up earlier. We were thinking of a way of helping you both.”

“But it’s over. Everything was solved.”

“Mother is free and herself again.”

“Father doesn’t need to blame himself anymore.”

“We want you to move on.”

“We know it will take a while before mother and father can join us...”

“But we will be waiting for you!”

“We’ll be waiting right here!”

“So we’ll be a big family again!”

“That’s a promise, okay?”

“So don’t blame yourselves any longer.”

“It hurts us, seeing you two cry like that.”

They couldn’t say anything with those words. The couple just hugged their children back, that started to disappear, one by one. In the end, the two of them were alone. Hantengu stood up and looked at his wife, who was still wiping off her tears.

“(W/N)...” He called her, but was unable to continue.

“When I came here… I was so afraid… I thought that you hated me… for everything I’ve done to them… to you… I came here prepared to beg for your forgiveness… But I was so scared of you looking at me with the same eyes as him…” She said, before looking at him, caressing his cheek. “But then, I saw you… and realized my worries were for nothing.”

“I never blamed you... Never once...” He said, holding her cheek with his hand. “I just wished I could have done more for you.”

“You did. You respected and loved me, despite of what had become of me.” She said softly. “And you raised a wonderful girl to be a strong woman. (Y/N)... She’ll be a terrific slayer in the future.”

Hantengu couldn’t help the light chuckle leaving his mouth.

“She will. Definitely.” He said, closing his eyes and touched her forehead with his.

He breathed in deeply, enjoying the moment, before he opened his eyes. She was gone, and he was alone in front of the boulder. He looked at the swords of his sons. They hadn’t appeared to him.

“They still must be upset that I lied, huh?” He said, remembering how his sons were. “That’s okay. I’ll wait for as long as necessary, until you three forgive me.”

He then turned and started to climb down the mountain. It was late, and he wanted to make sure his new children were okay.

SNAP!

The sudden feeling made him stop. The man stopped what he was doing and looked up, up to the sky and the stars. It took him a while to understand what happened. Someone under him had died and the snapping feeling he felt was their bond being broken. He sighed, as he closed his eyes.

“What a hassle...” He mumbles to himself.

“Oi, Sankoji.” The voice of his companion gets him out of his thoughts. “Are you full already? If so, mind giving me that one?” He asked, pointing his long fingernail to the body in front of him, his golden eyes glowing with glutonny.

“I’m not.” The first one, Sankoji, said, glaring at him, the other’s face reflected in his dark eye.

The silence continued for a while, before the second demon asked.

“What’s up with you? You aren’t this thoughtful when eating.” He said, before chuckling a bit. “Careful. It will give you a bad digestion.”

“That’s stupid crap that humans made up, Shinjuro.” Sankoji says annoyed. He doesn’t understand why he still hangs around him. No. Actually he does. This guy is the least annoying and the most sane among the lower ranks. He sighs as he continues his midnight lunch. “It’s none of your business.”

“If you say so.” The other says, turning to his own prey.

Sankoji continues to eat as he tries to remember who that demon was. It doesn’t take long for him to do so.

He remembers a woman hanging around a village at night with her baggage, which he recognized as a couple of swords. Nichirin ones. He believed that he would be able to find out where that swordsmith village finally was if he turned her into an oni. He managed to find her, but the swords were gone, and so were most of her memories once she turned. He just left her there and went about his business. He didn’t know what became of her since then.

She did survive for quite the long time, huh? But she ultimately died, like many others before her. It was unfortunate though, since he could still feel her fading strength, and she had some potential. Sankoji checked her last memories, and he saw a young girl with red eyes and Hanafuda earrings.

He froze, staring at nothing, chills running down his back and his heart beating fast. He breathes in slowly, trying to focus on his food, but her image kept crawling back to his mind over and over again. He turned to see if his companion noticed his reaction, but their eyes met, with a shared uncontrollable fear. Not a single word is said as they stand up and leave, neither of them feeling hungry anymore, not with the fear running through their veins.

“Let’s kill her if we ever cross paths...” Sankoji and Shinjuro say at the same time, their eyes meeting once more, with the kanjis of ‘Fourth Rank’ and ‘Fifth Rank’ staring at each other.

I'll be honest with you guys... I almost cried a couple times writing this one.

Also, a slight warning: as a couple must have noticed, I was posting this on the Wednesdays and the Saturdays, but I'll go back to just posting on Saturdays because, it's taking me too long to write this, so I can't keep up. Once I get a bit more calm, with a couple more chapters prepared, I'll return to Wednesdays and Saturdays, okay? Hope you understand, and see ya!

[littlelordalphinaud]

A Lonely Autists Ode to Final Fantasy XIV

This is probably going to be a horribly jumbled up post, and I'd apologise but I don't feel like apologising for stream of conscioussing my feelings.

So, until very recent years (We're talking the last 3 years), I have never really had friends. No one taught me how to be social, and my every misstep (and I assure you, there were many) was met with cruelty from my peers or the adults that were meant to care for me.

As such, from a young age, I got very good at 'making' my own friends. (This habit is actually what got me into writing!) Obviously the part of me that understands the world around me knew that they weren't real. But all I had were the friends I 'made', so I stuck with them.

Five years ago, now, my only real world friend that I had suggested that I try FFXIV. She said I'd love it. She said it would indulge the things I used to love about playing Fable (feeling like part of the world, silly outfits, getting to have an inordinately big hammer and swing it at my enemies with abandon) and I'd get to play alongside her.

Regrettably, my first impression of the game was less than stellar.

Don't get me wrong, I loved the world involved! I fell in love with the Scions (bar Alphinaud. Yes, yes, I am aware of the irony of this statement now!) and the story caught my attention. I didn't even mind the bits of ARR that everyone else complains about because I saw all of it as a chance to learn more about the world I was falling in love with.

I stopped playing because the ARR patches used to (idk if they still do) force you into replaying the Trials to progress. You HAD to do hard mode. And no one explained to me that Hard and Extreme were different things, so I got scared and stopped playing.

Two years later, I'd make a new character (my beloved Fru, who sits in my icon with her younger brother and sits squarely in my heart as an example to me of who I want to be) and try again. Everything I loved was still there, and the characters caught me in a grip even tighter than they had before. And the Scions became my Friends.

I didn't know it at the time, but they would be my last set of Friends. Because I met people, real people, who I'd grow to call friend (and brother, and husband, and son, and daughter, and kiddo, and any number of other titles)

But the Scions were my Friends.

Again, I stopped playing. Not because I didn't love the world. Not because I didn't love my Friends. But because none of my RL friends played, and I wanted to spend time with them, because I'd never had RL friends to spend time with before!

But FFXIV and the Scions stayed a part of me. I never uninstalled the game. I never cancelled my subscription (I prolly should have, tbh!) and every so often I'd log on and just run around Eorzea and 'talk' to my Friends.

Until a year later, I'd mention to @steelshard that I missed playing, but didn't want to play alone anymore. And the mad-man did what I never expected anyone to want to do for me, and he spent money to get the game so we could play together. (And so came Resh, the externalisation of a lot of my anxieties and my newly assured diagnosis as an Autist, and my complex feelings towards my mother, to match against Steels Ura, the type of woman I would kill to have in my life!)

I returned to Fru, Eorzea once more having a grip upon my Soul, and forged ahead from my place in the HW patches, marching through Stormblood with glee and teeth and love, walking through Shadowbringers and taking the time to sit with the pain and the knowledge that nothing is black and white, and racing through Endwalker with a hunger I've never experienced before until coming to a dead stop with an hour of wheeze sobbing and an Asthma attack as one by one the game took my Friends from me and forced me to face up to something that I hadn't seen before.

I wasn't alone.

I had my RL friends. And I still had my Friends. And they weren't antithetical to each other. I could have both! I could talk to Steel, or @instantbee or my husband, and tell them my thoughts and feelings and ask for advice. And when that felt like too much for me, I could go to Eorzea instead, and I could tell Y'shtola, or Alphinaud, or Urianger of my woes or my triumphs, or my twisted knotted ball of yarn thoughts, and seek support in the way I had my entire life. I could lie in bed and message my RL friends, or I could lie in bed and have three hour debates with G'raha.

And obviously, like I said at the beginning of the post, I know the Scions aren't real. But they're an extension of a coping mechanism that allowed me to survive through an early life that would have rather seen me die (and if you look beneath the steadily growing FFXIV sleeve, you'll see the evidence that it very nearly got its wish).

The Scions, the characters of Eorzea, they were my very last set of Friends. Because I don't need to make anymore. I have RL friends that understand me as I am now. But that secures the Scions a very special place in my life. They're the last of the Me that was alone. They're the last of the Me that was a frightened child, desperately seeking connection and solace from a world that would not give them that. They're the last of the Me that wanted to die. And by keeping them around, I am assuring that version of Me (because they're still here, just like every version of Me is still here) that I have not forgotten them. I have not forgotten how They struggled for this version of Me to come forth and live a happier life, a better life than any previous version of Me dared to dream about.

So I will keep my Friends close to my chest as we continue to explore Eorzea and Ethierys and Beyond together. Because the Scions and I are Friends. And We have survived so much together already.