#WHEN I LEARN HOW TO DRAW HANDS ITS OVER FOR YOU BITCHES-

[amethyst-art]

I'm obsessed with wings-

#grianmc #grian fanart #winged grian #wings #do people even read tags #fanart #lighting is much better #i hate hands i hate hands i hate hands i hate hands- #WHEN I LEARN HOW TO DRAW HANDS ITS OVER FOR YOU BITCHES- #he looks ethereal #amethystart

[comradekatara]

I saw your toph+katara gender post and honestly... thank you for being one of few ppl i've seen who actually do a deeper analysis of toph? Most people tend to just go "i love toph she's cool <3" and while that's fine, its so nice to actually see someone Get Her. Esp wrt her gender expression and relationship to femininity. She's always been v imporant to me, like when i was like 12 i used to watch youtube clips of the toph+katara spa day scene on repeat and have Feelings abt it (still think its a super interesting scene??). Imo, while a lot of her expression is def rebelling (+overcompensating) and doing the oposite of her feminine upbringing, a lot of it is also a genuine JOY at being covered in dirt/burping/being loud and crass and tough? Idk i just feel like a lot of her contemporary "tomboy" characters were more defined as "ugh i hate Skirts and Dresses", but tophs brand of gnc joy and complex relationship w femininity always hit closer For Me? Like. She's loud and crass and rude and badass and cool, she does find it fun to dress girly but as like an Activity with a buddy, she's overjoyed at being portrayed as a big buff dude ("that's exactly how i would cast it!"), she's actually very spiritual and perceptive when not in Loud Mode, she keeps her fancy hairstyle but adds messy bangs, idk she's just. Character of all time. I'd love to hear if you have more thoughts on toph+gender (or just toph in general), and thank you for actually Understanding Her <33

YES!!!!! i have so many thoughts and feelings on toph. she is one of my absolute favorite characters i truly love her so much, and like you said, i hate when people dismiss her even as they claim to love her. "she's so badass" like okay, and?

toph is also just very important to me as her disability informs so much of her arc. and that disability is also inextricable from her gender and her family and all the factors that shape who she is, her strengths and her insecurities. you cannot separate her parents' abuse from her gender, class, or blindness. it's the combination of being an aristocratic blind girl that informs who she is and how she's perceived, especially by her family. she's an only child in a family that would clearly desire at least one son, and you cannot help but wonder whether they stopped at one for eugenicist purposes, whether they couldn't bear the "pain" of risking having another disabled child. and also because they clearly consider having a blind child such a handful that any other child would draw their attention away from her dire, pressing needs. so they completely smother her, but they also dismiss her, trivialize her desires and ignore her feelings and treat her more like a fragile porcelain doll than a person.

it's why, by the time of "the chase," she gets inordinately defensive over katara's suggestion that she pitch in when setting up camp. i see a lot of people claim that toph in this episode is acting like a spoiled brat who refuses to do manual labor because she's too wealthy to understand, but that's not actually the case. toph is fine with doing manual labor (she literally spent who knows how long working in an underground wrestling ring, she's not unaccustomed to work), but she's averse to helping others. as she says, "i carry my own weight." she's establishing, erroneously but understandably, that her idea of affording others respect is assuming that everyone behaves on an individual basis. she's never had friends before, by her own admission, and so in her mind, the only model she's ever seen for "helping others" is smothering them, denying their agency, and deciding everything for them.

toph thinks that katara is a bitch because katara is suggesting that toph meddle in other people's affairs, instead of respecting their own business. and katara thinks that toph is a bitch because she does just straight up assume that toph is a spoiled brat who doesn't understand the value of community. and while toph isn't a spoiled brat, learning the value of community is indeed integral to her arc. and more than simply communal values of helping and sharing with others, she also learns to rely on them in turn. she learns how to embrace her vulnerability, and let others carry her weight for her. her apotheosis in the finale is literally hanging onto sokka, who is holding her entire weight with one hand, for dear life. putting her complete faith in him to carry her and protect her as he always does.

that ability to embrace her vulnerability among the people she actually trusts to not only love and support her, but also to recognize her as a human being and care about her as a a peer, is so crucial to her identity as someone who has learned from years of ableist stigma to put walls up and present herself as someone uniquely powerful and invulnerable. and it's not that she isn't uniquely powerful, but her strength is also largely a projection. it's why she's so delighted to be portrayed by a big buff man, because that's the kind of person she wishes she could be, so that she wouldn't have to be underestimated and belittled and oppressed by people who dismiss her and coddle her and disrespect her and, quite literally, put her in a box.

so if toph's experience with disability is informed by her class and her upbringing, then let's now turn to her experience with gender, which is equally informed by her background. katara often balks at toph's less feminine presentation, because despite her incredibly righteous crusade against limiting patriarchal standards, she nonetheless has her own hangups when it comes to gender. but then again, so does toph. just as katara disdains toph's masculinity, toph finds katara's femininity offensive because her only real model for femininity in her experience is that of aristocratic wifehood. poppy beifong, to be exact, who is not exactly a girlboss (let alone a revolutionary, like katara is). and when katara tries to shove toph back into a box, toph resists because of course she does, that's who she is. she's not going take what she experiences as violent repression lying down.

toph is wrong in "the runaway" to exclude katara from their fun, and she is wrong to call compare her to a mother, but it's not out of nowhere. there is an obvious precedent to these actions. katara is a genuinely feminine girl who loves to boss people around and dictate how they should live their lives. to toph, this is the most egregious sin imaginable. katara, through her femininity and authoritative attitude, is positioning herself, in toph's eyes, as her mother. and toph calls her out for being overbearing and claims that katara hates fun and wants to boss everyone around for this reason, even though sokka is obviously the primary fun-hating, overbearing member of the group.

however, sokka never dictates how toph should act or dress, sokka never made fun of toph for being blind (which is a thing that really deserves its own post, if we're being honest). sokka makes them spend their vacation time at the library and enforces his color-coded schedules on them and generally brings down the vibe what with his neuroticism and severity, but he also laughs at toph's jokes and banters with her in a way that treats her as a friend and not as a rival. and unlike katara, whose desires and commands seem completely arbitrary to toph, sokka's commands are grounded in a logic that toph can understand. so even if from an outside perspective, toph's claim that a revolutionary teenage girl who loves to cause trouble and seeks adventure and joy around every corner is trying to be the overbearing mom of the group makes no sense, it makes perfect sense to toph, based on her history with femininity, overbearing mothers, and feminine overbearing mothers.

toph presents masculinely as compensation, as a way to make herself seem strong and tough instead of dainty and submissive as she was always made out to be. she associates masculinity with strength and femininity with weakness because that's the paradigm she grew up in. it's why she's always teasing aang about his supposed femininity and calling him "twinkle toes" (which, as sokka points out, isn't manly). in their first interaction, aang beat her in a fight and humiliated her in front of all her adoring fans, and avatar or not, toph's gonna make him pay for that by undermining him in turn, by using his presentation as a monk to mock him. even if aang isn't gay or even gender non-conforming (within the assumptions of his own culture), toph is still employing the logic of sexism/homophobia to undermine aang when she makes jokes about him being "more in touch with [his] feminine side than most guys." and of course, the nickname "twinkle toes" is also deeply affectionate, and aang (bless his heart) never actually takes offense to it. but toph is trying to establish herself as more powerful than him due to the humiliating knowledge that he could beat her in a fight, easily.

toph's masculinity is inextricably tied to her invulnerability. she wants to be taken seriously and treated as a human being, which is respect that has been denied to her due to her status as a blind girl, save for her blind bandit persona, which superficially empowered her and made her feel strong. it's not coincidence that her rival earthbender is a guy who is essentially a parody of masculinity. toph wants to position herself as equivalent, if not directly superior, to the Most Masculine Man, because that's how she'll be afforded respect, in her mind. but she is a girl. and there's a part of her that likes being a girl, and wishes she could explore her femininity more than she's allowed herself to, beyond the confines of the beifong mansion. she keeps her hair long because she still loves her family and holds out hope that maybe one day they can accept her (she comes from a culture modeled off of tang dynasty china, so her long hair is likely a product of her adherence to confucian values). and once she embraces it, she genuinely does get into being made over at the fancy lady day spa.

femininity has been a genuinely harmful and repressive agent in toph's life, and it's understandable that she would internalize some misogynistic notions surrounding girl/womanhood as they were foisted onto her her entire childhood. but femininity isn't ontologically harmful. femininity isn't ontological, period. i think as toph gets older, and her friendship with katara grows deeper as they both come to be more honest with each other, she would grow to embrace her masculinity in a more organic and less compensatory way. less of a "i'm not like other girls" complex (which itself is not something that girls should be mocked and punished for, but rather a product of a patriarchal system that oppresses and alienates women, thus leading many less gender-conforming girls to attempt to assert their agency and individuality in any way they can, even if it means putting down others in the process), and more so genuinely coming to embrace her butchness. (you don't necessarily have to read her as a baby butch, of course, but considering that being a masculine girl is important to her, i think that's a really lovely and beautiful synthesis of her relationship to gender as a character.)

i think toph would learn stop pitting masculinity and femininity against each other, and instead embrace whatever aspects of either (or neither) she desires, while nonetheless respecting everyone else's deal in turn. i think she would also, in a key turning point, realize that even if she loves her parents, she doesn't have any obligation to be the daughter they expect her to be, and cuts her hair. and as she grows more secure in herself (which comes with age, no twelve year old is truly confident in their own skin), she would stop feeling the need to put other people down to feel big, and be comfortable embracing her desires. and, credit to her, she's clearly already on her way. the progress she makes being vulnerable, especially around sokka, even in what is chronologically a matter of months, is huge.

toph isn't just "badass" because she's strong and powerful. but rather, what makes her so powerful, at least to disabled viewers who see their struggles reflected in hers, is her ability to grow with her environment, allowing herself to admit help, and letting herself be loved. if you couldn't already tell, toph is incredibly important to me.

#smultronviol #asks #toph #analysis #katara&toph #sokka&toph #aang&toph #poppy beifong #god she just means so much to me..... #i was trying not to make this too personal but like. baby disabled dyke. god she is so important. #not that i'm butch. but i think she is :) #also some of those links are better than others but i included all of them anyway lol #realizing now that i actually talk about toph a lot... #anyway. thank you for this ask #i really really appreciate it and took a while responding specifically because i wanted to have time to be thorough #not that this is like. The definitive toph essay #but i hope what i wrote here resonated #because like i said. she means a lot to me and i truly do feel like very few ppl understand her fully #she is so important blind bandit numero uno campeon del mundo

[carrymelikeimcute]

I'm in my feels again so lets talk about Izzy Hands and violence.

I read a novel ages ago, where an older guy takes a young orphan boy under his wing and teaches him a trade - it's medieval times and said boy becomes a young adult and wants a sword, but his pseudo-father/boss/friend tells him he can't have one, because if he has one, he'll draw it and if he draws it, he could be killed. The safest thing is, paradoxically, to carry no weapons. To learn control of one's temper and control over your surroundings.

The scenes of Izzy and Stede in ep.7 at Jackie's reminded me of that novel.

Obviously Izzy has weapons, tends to put his hand on his sword during arguments and we do see him fighting and killing people. HOWEVER, I think it's really interesting that, given how often we talk about Izzy being repressed (emotionally/sexually/gender-ly) and how controlled he attempts to be, we don't often talk about his controlled approach to violence.

A lot of fic characterises him as someone who is hot tempered and violent, but looking at s1 with fresh eyes, between him and Ed, he's definitely not just the cooler head when it comes to instigating violence, but the one who takes less interest in violence for its own sake as a performance - e.g. Ed's very creative instructions with the tiny fork, the toe thing etc vs Izzy just stabbing Stede. It's a means to an end.

Don't think I'm not saying he has a fucking temper and a half, because he obviously does, but that seems to mostly be vented non-violently through yelling - not yelling at strangers either, but at people he knows and can (usually) judge where the line is.

Until he puts a toe over that line and...oops.

On first meeting Stede, Izzy cuts up his shirt without actually hurting him. It's a threat, but he hasn't drawn blood, hasn't started anything violent...yet. It's almost a display intended to dissuade actual fighting, by showing your potential opponent that they're probably going to lose.

I think one of the reasons Izzy's so annoyed about their losses in the battle with the Spanish is that it's not their fight. They didn't get anything from it - it was pointless (to him, not to Ed obvs). He wants to avoid facing the Spanish again in the following episode, because they stand to lose more than they will gain.

Even when he's actively calling for Ed to kill Stede, he isn't fussy about how. (And he uses manipulation to keep his hands clean - something he does again when selling Ed out to the navy.) Stede needs to be gone, and this is the easiest way to do that. And when he does finally lose it he doesn't just attack Stede without warning - it's within the controlled setting of a duel, which, when Stede starts improvising, breaks down Izzy's control and leads to him becoming emotional, making a mistake and getting his sword broken.

In s2 the pointlessness of the raids is obviously getting to him, disrupting a wedding for no real gain. Losing Ivan for nothing. I don't think the violence is what bothers him, he's a very active participant, but the fact that it's not for anything - it's not enough of a reward in and of itself. (It's like not really caring one way or the other about being a barista, it's just what you do and it's fine, but then suddenly you're not being paid and also your boss keeps burning you with the steam wand on purpose and you just sort of wish you could just get on with your job and make rent like before.)

S1 Izzy seems to lack the whimsy and imagination that Ed/Stede bring to piracy and to violence, but that doesn't make him stupid. They're playing some kind of made-up game that only they know the rules for, and he's trying to play chess with everyone, even when the rules are only a burden to him.

When we see him training, he's being a dramatic candlelit bitch, but he's also measuring his movements, focusing intently and not just hacking away at everything. Even the candles are interesting to me in this context - we see him playing with candles several times in S1/2 and while yes, there is a certain amount of 'Izzy likes pain' in there to unpick, it's also kind of a metaphor for control - fire is one of the most dangerous things to have on a 'wooden vessel' but a candle is like a tiny pet fire that you control - so long as you're careful and respectful. It's all about risk management, respecting dangerous forces and being aware.

When Stede kills Ned, Izzy looks impressed, even seems to smile for a second, but then he looks more subdued and tells Ed that the first kill is a head-fuck. It's like he's proud of Stede being ABLE to kill, but regretful that Stede CHOSE to kill in a situation where it wasn't necessary at all.

I don't think for a moment that Izzy regrets killing most of the people he kills as part of pirate life, but I think he would regret killing someone he didn't have to. Most people wouldn't want to carry that around with them.

We see in ep7. that Izzy is well respected at Jackie's. He tells bigger guys than him to fuck off and just takes people's chairs. He gets called 'Mr. Hands' instead of by his first name. There's a lot of respect there and I think some of it comes from his reputation with Ed, but also, from people knowing that he's not insane - he can be treated respectfully and everything will be fine for all involved. He's not some menace that's going to stab you as likely as pat you on the back.

For all that people are afraid of Blackbeard (and maybe slightly in awe of Stede as of the Ned thing) for their unpredictable natures and occasional violent outbursts, people are still attacking them or pandering to them, actual respect is something else entirely.

Later, Izzy doesn't pull a weapon and tries to discourage Stede from doing so, even tries to get him to leave to prevent a fight from starting. In the fight, he smashes a stool over someone and doesn't just start killing people - it's an appropriate level of violence for the situation, not an escalation.

It feels like Izzy is very much in that place of controlling himself, being aware and knowing when and how to use force practically, proportionally and effectively. This might be age related, but it's also a big part of his personality. I think that's also why he looks impressed by what Zheng does to Steak Knife (rip) because it's so precise, bloodless and quick. She's basically the best captain for him - she's efficient and controlled.

It's easy to confuse 'is willing to kill' with 'is eager to kill'. I don't think Izzy necessarily loathes that part of his job, he seems ambivalent, but it is still a job to him. It's what pirates do, much as the crew of the Revenge do still kill people, it's just part of their life and not some kind of performance or fun activity. It's work, and it's hard and it's unpleasant and if something can be done an easier way - a smarter way - then that's probably the best way.

#ofmd #ofmd spoilers #izzy hands #israel hands #ofmd meta #izzy hands is a character and a half #character discussion #long post

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

I'm Your Man - Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal x OFC - Chapter 2

Masterlist | Chapter 1 |-| Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12

AO3

Summary: Frankie's friendship with the men of the 100th continues to consolidate, even as her work takes its toll

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, language, me having no idea how B-17s work

Word Count: 4k

Tags: @mads-weasley @xxluckystrike @curaheehee @footprintsinthesxnd @dcyllom @storysimp

The pub was noisy as ever, a patchwork crowd of blue and green, British and American, filling the low-ceilinged room, the stench of cigarette smoke and stale beer thick in the air. It seemed to Frankie that she only ever managed to get that smell washed out of her uniform in time to come straight back here and acquire it again, but it was the only place they could manage to find some real fun - after all, there were no men and no booze allowed in their Nissen hut. Although both rules had been known to be flouted.

"Stop fiddling with that, you'll make it worse," George tutted, batting at Frankie's arm as she took a sip of her beer. When one of the forts had crashed in a ball of flames earlier that week, she had seared herself helping to clear the debris, a burn mark running across the palm of her right hand. In her moments of absent-mindedness, she often found herself toying with the bandage, which caused the nurses great dismay when the dressings inevitably frayed and needed replacing.

"I can't make it worse, it's already almost healed," She shrugged, plucking a cigarette from her breast pocket. The two women had long since learned that bringing a whole pack led to nothing but strangers begging for a smoke, so they each only ever brought one out with them - besides, a pleasant smile could always swindle a hapless soldier out of another, should the need arise. "Hurt like a bitch, but the nurse lanced all the blisters the other day."

George grimaced, wiping some foam from the corner of her lip. As she let her gaze wander to the next table over, the voices of the men behind them growing more audible by the minute, she sighed. "Oh, here we go."

Craning her neck to have a look, Frankie watched on for a moment, recognising the faces of Egan, Cleven and the others as they chatted with a few RAF airmen in less-than-friendly tones. A crooked grin made its way across her expression, and she wiggled her brow at George as she stood up, taking her pint with her.

"Frank, no," Her companion whispered, tugging at her sleeve.

"Come on," She giggled. The pair burrowed their way through the dense crowds that crammed the pub, breaking free beside the men's table, lingering momentarily behind the three RAF pilots.

"So, let me get this straight," One of them asked. "You're Buck, and he's Bucky?"

"Is there a shortage of nicknames in the 100th?" Another spoke, a smug smirk creasing his cheeks.

Frankie took another sip of her beer and spoke up, the sudden sound drawing the attention of all of the men at the table. "No, but there is a shortage of tossers, I'm sure you could fill the ranks," She said sweetly.

"Wa-hey!" Bucky cheered, a pink tinge on his cheeks indicating that he was already reasonably intoxicated. Wordlessly, he leapt to his feet, scrounging for a pair of extra chairs for the two women.

"Hiya, George," Biddick smiled dreamily, cradling in his in the palm of his hand. "How ya doin'? You look nice."

"I'm doing good, thanks Curt," George smiled, accepting a seat with a quick thanks to Bucky. Frankie let out a snort as she sat down beside her.

"Only thing we're short of is crews, gents," Egan sighed, taking his place between Frankie and Cleven and attempting to drape an arm across the back of her chair before she shoved him off.

"Hm. Pity," One of the RAF men said, condescension dripping in his tone.

"Pity what, exactly?" Frankie urged, getting the distinct feeling that there was a whole argument bubbling under the surface here that she had not been party to.

"Well, they'd have more if they flew their missions at night - as an RAF woman yourself, surely you must know that."

She raised a brow, talking over the rim of her glass as she took another sip of beer. She could feel Bucky tensing beside her. "Yunno, if the RAF paid me a bit more I might feel some loyalty to them, but I'm with the Yanks. You're the prick here, mate." George lifted her glass in a silent toast of agreement, a smirk curling the corner of her lips.

The Englishman's jaw clenched as he peeled his irritated gaze away from her to look at the men. "I think we ought to make some sport of this. Any one of you will do."

"Oh, don't say that, Frankie'll beat your ass," Bucky muttered under his breath, just quiet enough that only she and Cleven could hear, grins spreading across their expressions.

"Sounds like an excellent idea," Cleven rose to his feet to accept the challenge, but before he could, Biddick was up beside him, tugging at his sleeve. He spoke in a low voice, and Frankie couldn't quite make out what he was saying, but she pieced it together when Curt's gaze kept flickering from Cleven to George, who watched on with a frown. He wanted to take the fight - wanted to impress her.

Once it was settled that Curt would be the one to fight, the group moved swiftly outside, half-empty drinks long forgotten at the table as they hurried to watch the spectacle. The alley outside the pub was unlit, the glow from inside casting faint shadows against the cobbles as they formed a tight circle, watching on expectantly. Frankie's cigarette hung from her lips, a cloud of smoke rising in front of her as Curt and the RAF airman began to circle one another, fists raised.

George clung tight to her elbow, grinning in anticipation. The Englishman caught the edge of a wonky paving stone, stumbling slightly, and the two women let out unflattering snorts. Curt winked at them, and Frankie rolled her eyes, although even in the darkness she could tell George was blushing.

"What do I get when I win?" He called over, tearing his gaze from his opponent.

It was George's turn to roll her eyes now. "I'll let you buy me a drink."

His boyish face lit up, and it seemed he had been wholly distracted from the fight. The Englishman lunged forward to take advantage of this, but Biddick didn't miss a beat, knocking him down with a single blow. Frankie let out a raucous cheer of celebration, her friend clapping along as the men whooped and jeered at each other.

"Milady," Curt grinned, holding out his hand to George, who accepted gladly, allowing him to lead her back into the pub for another drink. Frankie let out a huff, smiling as she stomped out her cigarette and watched the other RAF airmen pick their fallen comrade up off the ground. Letting out another laugh, the sound of it erupting into the night air, she began to follow the men of the 100th, finally letting Bucky sling his arm around her shoulders as they wandered back towards the Nissen huts, singing and shouting in celebration of Curt's victory.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It was not yet five in the morning as Frankie scrounged to tie her bootlaces in the dark, toothbrush dangling out of her mouth, unbrushed hair tugged back into a messy ponytail. The pilots were taking off shortly after daybreak, and as some of the most senior mechanics at Thorpe Abbotts, the job often fell to her and Lemmons to carry out the last-minute safety checks and refuelling to ensure they'd all make it back in one piece.

None of the other women in her hut were required for duty yet, so Frankie did her best to shuffle about in the darkness as quietly as possible, refusing to turn on her bedside lamp so as not to wake George or any of her other less forgiving bunkmates.

Standing up from the edge of the bed once she'd finished tying her laces, she groped around blindly for her key to the mechanics' hut, accidentally banging her elbow on the corner of her metal bedframe in the process, waves of pain shooting up her arm. Pursing her lips tightly together, her whole body tensed, Frankie managed to find the key, waiting until she'd left the hut so that the cool night air would drown out the sounds of her pain.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" She hissed as she scurried for her bike, waving her injured arm around wildly as if the movement could somehow dull the pain. She was so distracted that she'd almost completely forgotten about the burn on her hand - that is, until she clamped the handlebar with her injured palm and let out a yelp.

The sun was already rising as Frankie arrived on the airstrip, breaks squeaking as she wheeled to a stop outside the mechanics' hut, Lemmons already on site as he wrung his palms with one of the dirty rags they used to clean away excess lubricant. "You look like hell," He pointed out as she dismounted her bike, locking it up around the side of the building.

"Thanks, Ken," She replied sarcastically. "Rough wake-up call, beat myself up stumbling around in the dark."

Ken chuckled, handing over her toolkit. The pair had far few hours of sleep between them to chat as they worked, and it was all Frankie could do not to yawn as she checked the fuel tanks and oiled the landing gear. They'd been out for over an hour by the time the flight crews began to show up, the familiar sound of jeep engines pulling up behind her as she declared her job done.

"She ready to roll?" Bucky's voice rang out, and Frankie almost flinched as he clapped her over the shoulder, still reeling from the man's constant lack of volume regulation.

"All good," She confirmed. "Now get her outta my sight, and bring her back in one piece - can you handle that?"

He smirked. "Oh, you know I can."

"The number of wrecks you've given me would say otherwise, dear," Frankie teased, wiping engine grease off of her fingers with a rag as she turned on her heel, heading back towards the mechanics' hut.

"Hey!" Egan called, and she looked back at him. "You ain't gonna watch us take off?"

"The only thing I'm doing now is taking a goddamn nap," She laughed, feeling exhaustion tugging at her eyelids.

"Yeah, fair, you do look like shit," Bucky shrugged, recoiling as her filthy, oily rag smacked him in the shoulder as Frankie lobbed it across the airstrip. "Hey!"

"Respect women, you little bitch," She retorted, raising a middle finger as she wandered off, praying she could make the bike ride back to her bed without dozing off and crashing into a bush somewhere.

Frankie slept through the morning, right past lunch, and would've missed the cacophony of plane engines returning overhead had Lemmons not come to retrieve her, banging on the window above her bed. She peeled her eyes open slowly, waking with a start as she noticed the boyish face staring down at her through the glass.

"What the fuck?!" She asked groggily, voice raised so that he could hear her from outside.

"They're back, come on!"

Letting out a huff, Frankie dragged herself out from under the blankets, running her fingers through the knots in her hair for want of time to properly brush it. Stepping out through the front door as she finished fastening the top few buttons of her coveralls, Ken stood waiting for her, passing his weight impatiently between the balls of his feet.

"How's it lookin'?"

"Uh, all the ones we've got so far look alright. Although..." He trailed off, glancing awkwardly at her as they fetched their bikes.

"Although?"

"Biddick may have... crashed. In, uh... Scotland."

"He what?!"

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Once it had been established that Biddick was still, in fact, alive, Frankie had few kind words to say about the pilot's wreckless flying, mourning the loss of a plane and the strings they'd have to pull to find a new one. Fortunately, George had been in an especially persuasive mood that night, and had managed to rope her into attending the party that was being held for the airmen to celebrate the success of their mission.

"Watch what they're calling a success, I'm the one who's gotta figure out how to ship a wrecked plane back from fucking Scotland," Frankie muttered as they approached the building, muffled music coming from inside as she tugged at the shoulders of her jacket, trying to force it to sit comfortably.

"Oh, stop complaining," George scoffed, grabbing her arm and forcing her to stop as she reached up to fix a smudge in her lipstick. "Look on the bright side for once - he didn't die!"

"That's especially good for you with your lovey-dovey eyes, huh? 'Oh hiya George, how ya doin' George, you look real pretty today George'," Frankie teased, putting on an utterly terrible American accent as she attempted to mimick Curt. George punched her in the arm and went inside without a word, a natural pink flush visible through her rouge.

The band was in full swing as Frankie followed her inside, the mingling crowds a mix of uniformed airmen, plainclothed local women, and a few servicewomen she recognised from the neighbouring huts. She was struggling to pretend she had ever wanted to come, nose burrowed in a glass of whiskey as she managed to dodge the flirting of a few slightly intoxicated pilots. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy parties - she just preferred them when there was no mountain of work hanging over her head for the following day. It was just as well she'd slept through lunch, otherwise her mood would've been frightful.

Bucky wanted to sing. He could feel the music running through his body, his toe tapping involuntarily against the polished floor as he sat slumped in a seat beside Buck. His friend had never enjoyed Bucky's singing - and although he pretended not to, he understood why. He couldn't carry a tune to save his life, but dammit if it wasn't fun.

The consensus had been a resounding no. No, he could not sing. But that was no fun - that was no way to celebrate, not in Bucky's book. He had caught Cleven off guard as he bolted from his seat, just quick enough to break away before his friend could grab him by the shoulder and drag him back down again. Approaching the microphone, an excited grin creasing his cheeks, his gaze scanned over the crowd before stopping on an unfamiliar face.

If anything, his performance would only be enhanced by a partner.

Frankie was beginning her second whiskey, lingering by George's shoulder as she made small talk with one of the radar operators from the women's hut next door. Bucky had tried to call her over once, but over the music and the crowd, she hadn't heard. He paused for a moment, wracking his brain for a way to get her attention without giving up the microphone. If he stepped away, he wouldn't have put it past Buck not to have the thing removed so that he couldn't perform.

"Fran!"

She turned to him instantaneously, ears pricked like a hunting dog, expression contorted with the murderous promise to carry out the threat she had issued the last time he'd used the nickname.

"Sing with me," Bucky beamed, holding out his hand. A smirk began to spread across her face, and he could see George patting her shoulder, egging her on. With a grin, Frankie passed her drink to the blonde, crossing the gap between them and meeting him at the mic as he cheered. Cleven's head was in his hands.

"You know the words?" He whispered.

"Well enough," She affirmed.

Never saw the sun shinin' so bright,

Never saw things goin' so right,

His suspicion had been correct. Frankie couldn't carry a tune any better than he could, onlookers grimacing at the complete lack of musical talent the pair possessed. Occasionally the lyrics would collapse into laughter as Bucky noted the way she had to crane her neck to even reach the microphone, but there was not a hint of embarrassment between them.

Watchin' the days hurryin' by,

When you're in love, my how they fly,

She caught his eye for a moment, their grins audible in their voices as they fought to keep up with the quick pace set by the band behind them. Arms outstretched, the curls in her hair bounced with each tap of her foot as she leant into the mic, their cheeks practically pressed together. The whiskey had left her slightly flushed, the tip of her nose blooming pink the way it always did. Anyone looking on probably must have thought there was something deeper between the two - the way they stood so close, their cheeks flushed pink, unable to keep a straight face whenever their eyes met. Frankie loved Bucky, that much was true, but it was the kind of platonic love that veered more into brotherhood than it ever would romance. If he had ever tried to kiss her, she probably would have knocked him out.

Blue days, all of them gone,

Nothin' but blue skies from now on,

He seized her by her shoulders in a fierce bear hug, and she let out a guffaw, so loud and so close to the microphone that it sent a shrill squeak of feedback around the room, the crowd grimacing for a moment before Bucky tugged her away and the terrible sound ceased. George was unable to clap for the glasses she held in both hands, but she whooped and cheered from the side of the room, the only person in the place giving them the true encore they both believed they deserved.

"I think we have a future in the industry," Bucky muttered into her ear, making her laugh again as they swayed side to side, his vice grip refusing to let up until she began pinching the flesh on the backs of his hands.

"Major!" A man called, scurrying up to them. "Major Egan sir, you've got a call."

"Alright, comin'," He nodded, clapping her over the shoulder as he made his way to the bar, where Cleven was already standing with the telephone.

George stepped up once Frankie was alone, returning her half-finished whiskey. "That was really something," She chuckled, voice raised over the music.

"I didn't know I had it in me," Frankie shrugged. "Y'know, that much raw, untapped talent should never go to waste, it's a tragedy." Her friend laughed, but Frankie's gaze had wandered over to the bar again, where the two Majors chatted jovially to whoever was on the other end of the line.

"Is that-?" She muttered to herself, telling George to give her a minute as she marched up to the men, leaning casually against the bar. Flashing a calm smile, she nodded to Cleven as Bucky chatted away on the phone. "Hey, is that Biddick on the line?"

"Sure is, all the way from-"

Cleven never got time to finish his sentence before she had darted in between the two men, wrenching the phone from Egan's hand before he had time to even register her presence. "Wh- hey!"

"Did you crash my fucking plane, Curt?" She snapped, the man on the other end of the line letting out a tiny yelp of surprise.

"Frankie!" Curtis chuckled nervously. "How's Georgie doin', is she well?"

"Answer the question, Biddick, did you - oh, piss off, Bucky," Frankie spoke hurriedly, slapping at Egan's hands as he tried to pry the receiver away from her. "What were you thinking?"

"Y'know," Biddick continued, completely dodging the question yet again. "The Scottish - they don't like you English very much, Frank."

"Historically speaking, that's pretty fair," She sighed, running a hand across her face. "Just... ask whoever's with if they've got a truck that can bring your wreck back from... where is it again?"

"Mostly in the vegetable patch."

"Right. Good to know. Now get your ass back here or I'm gonna set George up on a date with one of the ground crew boys."

She pulled the receiver away from her ear, chuckling at the muffled sound of Curt's protests as she handed the phone back to Bucky, who snatched it from her with a look as if to say 'What the hell?'.

"Yeah," He nodded along to whatever Biddick was now saying. "Yeah, uh-huh, I promise I won't let her. Don't you worry, dear." Bucky shot her a sideways glance and she snorted with laughter, holding her hands up in surrender as she backed away from the bar.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The sky lit up a dozen shades of orange, red and blue, the faint thrum of explosions and gunfire rattling overhead as the anti-aircraft guns did their best to destroy the enemy's fight planes, high up through the clouds.

Frankie lingered outside the shelter, watching with her arms folded across her chest. Her pin curls never held for more than a couple of hours, and a halo of frizz encircled her head as a result of the night's commotion, eyes reflecting the stippling of lights above.

One of the airmen hurried past her towards the shelter, brow drawn inwards with anxiety, sweat visible on his brow even in the dark. He glanced at her, and almost went on his way, but back-tracked just as he was about the head down the steps.

"Uh, ma'am?" He urged. "We should really get inside."

"Yeah, in a minute," Frankie waved her hand, doing a double take as she realised the man looked familiar. "Hey, it's, uh - Crosby, right?"

He almost smiled. "Yes, ma'am. You're Ms Bevan, I believe - on the ground crew."

"Right you are. But call me Frankie, everyone else does."

Crosby didn't seem to know what to say to that, and settled for a simple, awkward nod. "We should really get in-"

"It gets a lot less scary when you're - what, three years in?" She paused a long moment before sucking in a breath, tearing her gaze from the sky above as she pointed at Crosby. "Hang on, aren't you the one whose vomit we keep having to clean out?"

Even in the dark, she could see his face turn beet red. "Oh, I am so sorry about it, ma'am, I swear I'm trying not to, it's just-"

Frankie chuckled, and he trailed off, clutching his uniform cap tightly with both hands. "Don't worry about it. I make the boys do it anyway, I don't touch the stuff," She grinned. "I'd probably do the same. I know more about planes than all of your pilots put together, but I've never flown in one before."

Crosby let out a huff at her confession, suddenly more at ease despite the chaos overhead. When he stared at it the way she did, the lights and sounds were almost beautiful. Almost.

"Why don't you head down below," She said. "Your COs will start wondering where you've got to."

He nodded, reaching the top of the steps that led down to the shelter and then holding out a hand, as if offering to help her down them. When Frankie just smiled, not moving an inch from her position, he took the hint, nodding as he began to descend.

"Oh, and Crosby!" She called. He doubled back, head peeking up over the wall. "Try chewing ginger root. Or a mint leaf. I've heard they help with the air sickness."

Crosby nodded again, firmly, as he took a mental note of her advice. "Thank you, ma'am - uh, Frankie."

She grinned. "Any time."

#masters of the air #masters of the air fic #masters of the air oc #mota #john egan #ken lemmons #harry crosby #curtis biddick #gale cleven #oc: frankie #fic | i'm your man #oc: george #rosie rosenthal x oc

[darkbluekies]

Jerry asks #2

Previous one

Concept: I've put multiple asks into one post to avoid too much loose posts on my account! This way, you have more to read too<3

Warnings: nsfw mentions, drugs, murder

Rahhh i love ur OC Jerry smmm, i wanna squish her like a stress ball and inhale her into my nose 😔😔Im conclusion, i can't wait to see more of Jerry and your writing in general!!! &lt;;33

youwannadowhatnow???? (thank you so much ily)

Bro i am SO in lesbians with jerry its not even funny

Very good >:)

how would Jerry react to reader killing someone out of self defense?(p.s. im lowkey in love with Jerry)

She will be proud over you. All that self defense she taught you actually worked. She's so pleased to know that you can take care of yourself when she's away. She'll comfort you, knowing that this most likely will take a toll on your brain.

"It's okay, baby, it's okay I promise, you did nothing wrong! You did so well. You could even have been harsher if you ask me, but you're so nice, aren't you? The nicest little baby? Come here."

As soon as Jerry puts a colouring book in front of me bam my attention is gone I am drawing I am gone I am happy

Perfect, just like she wants :>

"Giving you a coloring book to keep you occupied" Jerre what the actual f... do you think i'm a child ?! *is absolutely doing the coloring with an offended look*

Lmao coloring books really are fun, i love them so much

She'll come over every ten minutes to check up on you and see how far you've come.

"No need to glare at me when you're obviously having fun, you child." She peeks at the drawing. "That looks good, baby doll. If you finish the entire page before I'm done here I might let you sleep on my arm tonight."

Does Jerry get softer over time? She’s stand offish but we get those moments of softness, when she settles down with her darling and they both trust each other will she be soft or still only fleeting moments?

She doesn't get softer in theory, but you learn how to take her behavior and analyze it. Her cockiness is a part of her personality. it's not disappearing anytime soon. However, if you match her energy she will be much more comfortable. You might even be on the same level with her instead of being her property.

Example:

"I ought to give that son of a bitch a real pounding", Jerry mutters with her arms crossed over her chest.

"You should wipe the floor with his hair", you reply. "Use it like a real good mop."

She scoffs out a laugh. "I should, shouldn't I?"

"If you don't, I will."

You're about to leave, but she grabs your shoulder, forcing you back.

"Not a fucking chance, Y/N", she says. "He would grab your hair and swing you over his head like a damn propeller. I'm not letting him hurt you, you're too important to me. You can help me, but you're not doing anything by yourself, do you understand that?"

"In that case he'll hurt you too."

"I'll be fine." She taps your nods at the man. "If you take his glass, I'll put in the sleeping pills. Let's go, baby. I'm right behind you."

on my hands and knees begging for more information on jerry’s mommy kink

Well ... haha ... Jerry loves to be in control and know that she's the leader of the relationship. Having you call her that makes her feel important to you. Plus it feeds her gigantic ego.

She's the type to want you to call her that among others, just so people know. It makes her feel even cockier.

Of course she mocks you about it when you become shy about it, why wouldn't she do that? The more embarrassed you are, the happier she gets.

BLUE OMG I LOVE JERRY SO MUCH SHES LITERALLY RHE STANDART ‼️‼️

AGREED<33333

jerry stole my heart<3 -💤anon

She will steal more than that, she will steal your entire life

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere drabbles #yandere oc x you #yandere mafia #yandere oc x reader #yandere female #yandere asks #yandere x darling

[mrs-hatake]

a dance of disdain and desire

pairing: toji x fem!reader

warning: non-con, attempted murder.

summary: Staring down at the slumbering woman, Toji takes in her features. Normally, he wouldn’t bother looking at his victims, doesn’t even care to learn their names, however, the slumbering princess has an indubitable beauty that has Toji halting in his movement.

a/n: please go easy on me my writing is very rusty and idk how to write kissing or fighting scenes ;-;

ao3

Toji’s bare feet land softly on the white fur carpet, the material tickling his toes. The thirty year old man sneers at the carpet, as if offended by its fluffiness, before cautiously lifting his right foot and moving further into the bedroom. 

There’s a lump on the bed that he knows belongs to the Star Plasma Vessel. He watches, silently, as the young woman’s chest rises and falls with every breath she takes. Once Toji is certain that the woman is submerged deep in her sleep, he slips his hand into the back of his pocket and pulls out his Bowie knife; his ideal choice of weapon for a quick and painless death. 

Staring down at the slumbering woman, Toji takes in her features. Normally, he wouldn’t bother looking at his victims, doesn’t even care to learn their names, however, the slumbering princess has an indubitable beauty that has Toji halting in his movement. 

Had the young woman been born as a normal human as obsessed to the vessel, Toji believes that she would have made a fine wife for a lucky bastard that doesn’t deserve her grace. 

Though Toji isn’t here to admire her beauty, he is here to kill and dispose.

Inching closer, Toji lifts his hand up, ready to plunge Bowie into her neck, closing his mouth tightly so as to not get blood into his mouth. 

What he isn’t anticipating, however, is the young woman’s eyes opening and jumping away from Toji’s attack. 

It happens too quickly but Toji soon finds himself planted face first on the young woman’s bed, something heavy laying on his back and a sharp knee pressing against his spine.

“You must be quite foolish if you assumed I would be sitting around, waiting to be killed.” A woman’s voice hisses disdainfully into his ear.

Toji chuckles, “I do like them fiery.” and as fast as lightning, he flips them over so that the vessel is lying beneath him, “But I’m not here to play.” 

He smirks wickedly at her, his scar appearing more prominent, and the vessel growls as she tries to knee Toji in his stomach. 

Toji expertly dodges her blow, his movements fast and fluid, showcasing just how strong he truly is. 

But the woman isn’t so quick to surrender, charging at Toji with her fists swinging. 

The two engage in a furious exchange, their bodies moving together as if they are dancing a passionate tango for the world to see. 

The vessel manages to land a punch with great force but Toji retaliates with a swift kick, knocking her down against the carpeted floor. 

The young woman’s eyes are lit ablaze with defiance, but she refuses to give up even though Toji is sitting on top of her, thick thighs trapping her own and his bowie pressing against her neck, almost drawing blood.

“Give up princess?” The wicked gleam in Toji’s forest green eyes does not frighten the young woman. Instead, it fuels her with so much rage that she headbutts the man above. 

“Gaarrh!!” 

While Toji is distracted by the pain, the vessel quickly grabs onto Toji’s wrist and twists it hard enough so that he drops the knife.

“You fucking bitch!” He growls and slams her body back onto the floor, ignoring the searing pain.

“Let me go!” The woman screams, legs kicking wildly in hopes to somehow hurt him. 

“Sorry, dollface, I was paid to kill you.”

Though Toji’s voice is sugary sweet, the murderous glint shines bright in the dimly lit room. 

The young woman doesn’t stop thrashing, even when Toji draws a thin line across her neck, watching, mesmerized, as the blood quickly follows.

Without warning, Toji’s lips come crashing down in a furious, heated kiss. A kiss that is charged with bloodlust and perversion.

The young woman’s hands press against his chest, desperately shoving him away, but Toji is stronger and holds her hands in an iron grip, stilling her movements. 

Toji presses his body against her, deepening their sloppy kiss. One of his hands engulfs the woman’s hand while the other wraps around her waist and squeezes the flesh, making the woman open her mouth in an audible gasp and Toji immediately shoves his tongue down her throat.

Lost in the kiss, Toji’s grip loosens and both his hands wrap tightly, greedily, across her waist.

The young woman leans on her elbows and pushes herself upward, deepening the kiss which makes Toji moan, appreciating the fact that the vessel is reciprocating. 

Their lips move in a tumultuous dance of desire and disdain, sending delicious shivers down their spines.

When the young woman is certain that her assassin is too engrossed in the kiss, she buries her fingers in his thick tuft of hair and yanks, but Toji does not budge an inch. 

As a last resort, she punches Toji, his back and his chest, but soon surrenders when she realizes that her efforts are futile. 

And as she is being violated by her assailant, the young woman is struck with the terrible reminder that even though she had trained hard to protect herself,  that she had spent thousands hiring strong people to shield her, she is destined to die.

Finally, the young woman sighs in defeat and succumbs to the assassin, shivering at the way Toji’s lips curl in victory. 

#toji x reader #fushiguro toji x reader #toji imagine #jjk imagines #toji fushiguro x reader

[sapphire-weapon]

me in the shower, just tryna shave my legs and have a normal night: you know, I'm really proud of that Leon and Ada boat scene meta post that I made earlier today. the biggest problem with Ada's character has always been that, outside of RE2, we never get a peek into her actual emotions at any point. she just seems to be a Sexy Spy Robot going on autopilot. but this is like, layered and nuanced and shit. it's interesting. my brain: hey me: ... uh oh my brain: you know what's really interesting about Leon and Ada's dynamic in the Remake series? me: ... oh god what is it just say it because this razor is very sharp and I have no wiggle room for bullshit. my brain: in OG, Leon always came off as naive and even a little bit childish due to his attachment to Ada. Remake is flipping that on its head. this time around, Leon is the mature adult in the room, and Ada is the one with a naive, almost childish worldview. me: ... what, you mean the whole "Leon is more comfortable with silence than Ada is" thing? I already did that part. my brain: bitch would I have piped the fuck up if that was it my brain: no, I mean the fact that people -- even you up to this point, dumbass -- have been misinterpreting the genesis of her redemption arc. it isn't that Ada discovers that she has a moral line in the sand that she won't cross. it's not like she reunites with Leon and, out of nowhere, has the epiphany "maybe killing people is bad, actually." me: ... go on... my brain: it's that she reunites with Leon and sees what he's become and feels incredible guilt over it -- and that's probably the very first time in actual literal years she's felt guilt over anything. me: ... so she... wants to avoid feeling guilty again...? is that what you're saying? my brain: yes, and the reason it's been so long since she's felt guilty about anything is because she doesn't ever ask why. she has no real sense of object permanence when it comes to what she's doing and who she's doing it for. she does her job and she shuts up and moves on to the next. it's an almost child-like mentality of "I just do what I'm told." and that's why Wesker is surprised to hear her ask for more information. when he says "I do not pay you to ask questions" it sounds like the very first time he's ever had to say that to her. ever. me: back up. how do you get from "feeling guilt over what happened to Leon" to "she's never questioned Wesker"??? my brain: Ada is extremely intelligent and, as a spy, curious and investigative by nature. if you think about how completely bewildered she was by Leon's change in attitude and demeanor, it only makes sense that she'd have a moment of "how the hell did this happen" followed up by the question of "what's driving him to fight so damn hard for a government that did what they did to him?" with the found answer that Cid gives Benedikta about Clive: "he's fighting for something he believes in." it's not about the government. it's about stopping something like what happened in Raccoon City from ever happening again. which then culminates in the thought: "why am I doing any of the things I'm doing? where are my efforts going, exactly? I guess I can just ask Wesker about it." me: holy shit me: you're right, it's not about drawing a moral line in the sand at all. that moral line has always been there. she just had no idea how close up on it she actually was. my brain: exactly. if not for her guilt over Leon, she would have never been inspired to ask Wesker what he plans on doing with the amber -- so, he would have never told her, and she would've handed it right over to him and been responsible for the deaths of billions. Ada is essentially learning for the very first time that her actions have consequences, like a toddler sticking a penny in a light socket. me: aight aight I feel u. but one thing to tack on: it's also probably not just Leon's influence at play here. there's probably something of Luis here, too. my brain: OH COOL I CAN MAKE IT EVEN WORSE THEN me: gODDAMN IT NO

#resident evil 4 #ada wong #leon kennedy

[riacte]

🛸 exterrasexymenpoll Follow

THE RED KING from TEAM DOGWARTS and BLUE BATS

vs

HAND OF THE KING from TEAM DOGWARTS

Please stop mentioning the Blue Stalker in our comments. They have caused a lot of distress for the Exterra community, no matter how “sexy” they are or “how many bitches” they get.

Once again, we condone voter fraud, but we draw the line at spamming our polls with links to the enemies to lovers Blue Stalker x Red King fic.

🎇 thestarsweremadeforus Follow

OFHHDFJSJDJS ITS HERE!!! DIVORCE POST!!! HAND VS KING the boyfriends are fighting!!!

Not gonna lie I was so absorbed in the potential hilarity of this matchup that I failed to realise I have to vote for someone now. I’m. Im genuinely torn 😭😭😭

💄 gaysloveqoh Follow

stop saying treebark is divorcing when they BOTH are on qoh’s side 😭 they’re united in their respect for our queen 😤

anyways idk what to do now that blueballs is out. anyone wanna make an alliance with the ballgurls 🥰

🦇 starshipspachelbel Follow

You’re right, the gays DO love qoh (gays being treebark)

This is so cruel, putting the king against his loyal hand… I am drowning, there is no sign of land, you are coming down with me, hand in unlovable hand…

#RKSWEEP though (I say with tears in my eyes)

👽 blueballs Follow

sorry but the blue stalker DOES get all the bitches 😎 more sexyman energy than xisuma exterra void anyway

anyways im endorsing red king LETS FUCKING GOOOOOOOOOOOO

👑 princeofhearts Follow

To the #HEARTSWEEP people mourning their loss, why vote for [deadname] when you can vote for his transitioned self, the Hand of the King? Stop being so fixated on [deadname], he’s still RK’s gunner 😭

Btw the ship wars between RK x Hand vs RK x QoH are so stupid like the Hand and QoH are the same people???? Some miraculous laserbug love square type of bullshit? Anyways I support the prince of hearts 🙏

🍬 gunnerwithashotgun Follow

@/princeofhearts ur a freak, stfu!!! queen of hearts and hand of the king are TOTALLY different ppl (they have different bioneos colours) and ur being lumianphobic by thinking theyre the same even tho they're just the same SPECIES (they even have different cultures like the hand keeps on roasting rk for calling tuski "pearl" bc that's the way qoh learned it??)

🪓 handoftheking Follow

I’m adding “not False Symmetry / Queen of Hearts” to my bio. Like, she’s super cool, but I’m unfortunately not her.

Anyways, vote for me over that old man. You’re not letting a potato win, right?

💫 concorp-official Follow

Vote for the Red King! Show a screenshot that you voted for him at any ConCorp intergalactic outlet and receive a 5% discount, effective today!

⏳ rensanddaddy Follow

NOT THE OBVIOUS BRIBERY FROM MR CUB HIMSELF.... we need to vote harder for the Hand!! Just look at his blonde ass hair and blue dishwasher detergent freckles!! He's so pathetic and a meow meow and I want to lovingly crush him against the walls of a spaceship (im not the blue stalker i promise)

🐙 doctagon Follow

... guys. i. The actual Exterra official account on twt sent out the link to this poll?? The ACTUAL account?? We've breached so many layers of containment???????

🪓 handoftheking Follow

... Okay, that miiiight be my fault? It's good PR for us, right? We're the two sexiest racers in the Exterra industry on the podium together. It's good for our image, and maybe people will FINALLY stop truthing I'm transgender QoH

🌲 dilfkisser Follow

I hope we get a perfect 50/50 tie. I want homoerotic RK and his homoerotic Hand to both win. I want them to stand on the podium and make out while holding a pride flag while BlueBalls beatboxes in the shadows. I hope we all win. (Except the transgender lumian theory believers, go touch some stardust)

#unreality #polls #treebark #trafficshipping #space opera au #.... yeah #sorry for making polls again even if its a gag poll #spopera martyn is indeed a pathetic meow meow but spopera false is even more of a pathetic meow meow #theyre all pathetic meows meows. dumb ass blorbo trio i love them 😭 #tw unreality

[crescentfool]

my art summary for 2023! this year was very all over the place for me, but i'm glad to say that i've created despite personal hardships (that were mostly unrelated to art) 🥺 thank you everyone for taking a look at my work this year! 💙 i hope 2024 will be just as fun! 🎉

some documentation of my feelings about art this year under the cut:

i think i was way too hard on myself this year with my art. and i am sitting here like. "goddamn dude. why would you do that to yourself for. stop that LOL"

honestly i would go in a time machine to give myself a pat on the back for drawing SPLATOON for the first time in like 6 years or something. trying to learn the proportions and figuring out how i wanted to draw splatoon was very hard. and i still don't know what i want my splatoons to look like!

i remember back in late 2019 i would bitch to my friend that i didn't understand how face anatomy worked and i would tell her how it was the end of the world. but as i drew more i eventually understood faces better (and i'm still learning!). funny how that works! so i like to think my sploons will be like this too :D

the other thing i would have told 2023 me: overthink less about the learning process. maybe it's because i have way too much free time on my hands but. when i'm not actively drawing i have a lot of analysis paralysis and perfectionism. so i end up not starting anything out of my comfort zone even if it's just for practice because my brain is so hung up on trying to "learn new things optimally" and making things "good enough." and. i. guys.

pleasepleasepleaseplease don't do that to yourself its NOT GOOD!! give urself permission to fuck up and make pieces that dont work out!! u can always revisit the concept later u dont have to do it perfectly the first time!! please!!! i am giving myself and anyone else reading permission to fuck up in creative endeavors. woo!!! i love making mistakes and fixing them later!!

THAT SAID for the things i did sit down and do, i like them (like the pieces here!)! and i'm glad i did them because its like! woaw! more data to work with! so im hoping to do more of that next year! sit down and let art come out! not everything needs to be bangers! things will click eventually! trust!!

so my goal for 2024 is to draw things out of my comfort zone (mostly backgrounds, maybe comics) even if it looks shite!!! no more fucking grid and gradient we are putting characters in LOCATIONS!!! and as a fun bonus it would be funny if each of my pieces in my art summary next year looks like it was made by a different person. because i think its funny to do that. and u should make urself laugh while doing anything :D (i love silly!!! yay!! yipee!! wahoo!!)

#lizzy does art #lizzy speaks #the december one is unreleased bc they're part of a thingy im working on. they're just extracts from my current wip compiled on a grid #as u can see i don't have a consistent style (that's the goal babey!). or maybe you think it's consistent! idk! i look at my own art more #than anyone else would probably FKLDHSLFDH #idk i went and said drawing this year is going to be like jumping up and down on a mattress LMAOO. whatever that means #anyway SERIOUSLY THOUGH LIZZY LOVES U ALL VERY MUCH. thankie for the fun tags and nice words and any support! #i wish every fellow creative a good brain year ahead and that ur brain is ur ally! do shit scared! yipee!!! learning!! wahoo! bye!!! #and maybe i'll do other fun things next year too! like more video editing. it was really nice to rediscover my love for it again!!

[safely-in-vhagars-belly]

Deliciously dark! Aemond taking his pet/wife (Dark!Aemond x oc) ((snow falls chapter 21, but can be read as a standalone for its all shameless smut anyway:)) The prince and the fox

You are Willa Wyldewoods, lady of Wyldecrest. After being denied your hand in marriage, Aemond murders your family and makes himself Lord of WyldeCrest, out-powering you. He claims you as his wife and spoils, He commands and goes over your home now and as you will learn right now: No one is safe under his reign. Not even you

WARNINGS: Especially for this chapter: Dark!Aemond (DUH!) ((We don't do half-blends here, he's 100% dark! Aemond slightly neglecting OC, but not on purpose (hes just busy) Slavery, abortion, non-con, insecure mc is willing to do anything to please her hubby and ...well hubby's mostly pissed lol. Sexist Aemond, unfeminstic Aemond, godcomplex/innocent kink as well as dom/sub themes,spankings, fucking, spitting, aemond degrading his pet and poorly translated high valyrian:)

It is late when you are preparing for your act. Aemond is still working, as his duties keep him late. Aurelia has put you into a new gown with a lot of leather and see-through fabrics, complicated designs, and confusing straps. You are also wearing more and brighter makeup than usual. Aurelia forbade you to braid your hair; it had to be loose and wild. You notice it tangles, and you absently play with a lock.

It is an uncomfortable long silence that follows. You both sit on the bed of Aemond and wait for him to appear. You hear Aurelia sigh impatiently. "Why does he even have to stay that late? He's a prince. He can quit whenever he likes. Have servants do his biding." You are a little confused by her description. For a girl that knows Aemond...

She has no idea who he is. That is more Aegon's style. Aemond would never do that. "He isn't as his brother. Aemond takes great pride and joy into fulfilling his duties. To hand it to a servant, he would never entertain such a thought." You tell her. "He is proud and stubborn.'

She sounds jealous when she speaks next. "You know him quite well. The Aemond I know does not care for duty. All He cares about is his cock." You wonder how the two of them became enemies or whatever it is they are.

"How did you meet?" You ask.

She smiles at you, though there is pain in her eyes. She proudly recalls how she meet the prince. You assume at a ball. Perhaps during a romantic storm and they both sheltered in the same building. Or he hired her in a brothel. "I was a 15th nameday present." Your eyes widen.

She is truly a slave. You are shocked. Your terror and pity are very amusing to her. "I am just as you, little snowflake. A dirty little spent slave bitch. Sold by my parents to Aemond as a gift by Aegon. You know what he told me, before he raped me the first time? That it was such a honour to be bestowed the possibility of carrying a son for the prince.' You feel shivers run.

You tear up even by her horrible description. Aemond had a slave. A slave he raped. "What if you had a girl?" You whisper soft. "What would he have done with you?' There is a chance that one day, you might give him a daughter as well. That would be a child he does not want. He once told you girls can be married off, and that is their use. Men will be heirs. Women will be property.

There is a long silence as you notice her fingers distantly rubbing her own stomach. "I did. Aegon handled it." Handled it. Handled it how?

Your mind draws the worst conclusion immensely fast. "They took the babe away from you?" You guess they put her into an orphanage.

She does not even hide the truth. "They gave me a potion. I spiralled, passed out, and woke up without any child in my belly, covered in my own blood, the remains of my child." So they did not even know for certain that the babe was a boy or a girl. They just saw a complication and went to solve it the easy way. With knives and poison.

You are disgusted. "Why would Aemond allow this?"

She scoffs. "Aemond? Aemond only liked me for one night. Aegon fucked me all the others. Aemond took my maidenhead, I spent the entire night sobbing. He hit me a few times to shut me up. He did apologise for it in the morning."

"I found him later fighting with his brother. They were screaming at one another and Aemond wanted to know if he still had the reciet to me. He wished to trade me for a unexperienced girl at the brothel."

"He would trade you just as that? For another girl?" Your heart bleeds. You have the feeling Aemond one day will do the same with you. Trade you for another girl. A younger, prettier, more innocent girl.

Aurelia frowns at you as if she is conflicted. "I pity you, little snowflake. It is a wonder you survived Aemond that long." She sighs sweetly. "I will take the lead during tonight's events. Aemond already thinks me a slut, you can be the innocent doe eyed girl and just be fucked."

Finally your husband enters. You have missed him so badly. You miss the way she smells as leather and burned wood. You missed the sound of his breathing and even the sight of his scar. You missed everything about him in a way you didn't knew you could miss someone that much.

Aemond has not seen you two yet and kicks out his boots first, put his coat over the chair by his desk and sights so deeply that you want to rub his back to comfort him. He takes a few steps back and turns, eying you finally in your new outfit with your new friend.

You have trouble reading your husband. You always have but now more than usual. You keep staring at him, waiting for any reaction.

He stares at both of you, tangled up together for him and him alone. For his pleasure. You wonder how you'll handle Aurelia touching Aemond. You don't like that thought very much.

Aurelia chuckles when slowly touching your breasts. "Good evening, my prince." She purrs at him when you are silent. She rolls you on your front and exposes your behind. She softly smacks you, lifting your gowns for him. He takes in your naked behind, fascinated by your lack of undergarments. "Greet him." She tells you.

You greet him as you always would. "Hello, husband." You say. "We eh thought you might wish to see us both tonight. We will do as you desire, husband." You speak soft as you practiced. Aurelia rolls her eyes at you.

"Don't mind your little pet, my prince. I am learning her all the deliciously dark things you like. She will be turned into a pretty whore once we are done here. It will be as if you took her from the silk of streets yourself." You gulp at her description.

Aemond leans in, breathing in your direction. You turn away, avoiding his gaze. He grabs your chin and forces his fingers to trace over your lips before he looks at your naked breasts. "You think I want anyone else fucking this little cunny?" His fingers go deep inside of you and you nearly grunt with anticipation. You buck helplessly but by the time you have processes his touch he is gone; leaving you high and hungry.

Aemond continues, rubbing your nippels and forcing your mouth open so he can ravish your mouth with a wicked smile on his lips. His eye shimmers beautifully and you are moaning helplessly against his powerful attack you can not fend off. "You think I want anyone else, touching what I died, fought and bled for? You think I want you to rise, crumble, and fall with anyone else but me in your mind, little fox?" He roars, firing himself up with his speech as well yourself. You tremble on the bed, and your hands are touching your clit. You rub eagerly, chasing the pleasure.

"I-" You mutter helpless, clutching your wetness and closing your eyes. Aurelia is slightly shocked behind you and she chuckles lightly when spanking your exposed cunt causing you to whimper it out in pure pain.

Aemond watches, his hands folded on his back. You assume discipline will be in order. You will be dragged, smacked, spanked, owned fucked and spend and sprayed upon. You will be a bunny fighting a wolf. You know who will top you. Who will force you into submission and who will enjoy your spoils and proclaim his victory over your body.

Aemond Targaryen. You weakly mutter a excuse for your behaviour as it becomes clear that Aemond is not aroused at all. You feel foolish. Ugly, even. "I only did it for you." You confess .

He lets out a wicked long laugh. He inspects your cunt, pushing your legs wide so he can see you properly. Nothing is hidden from him. He wets his finger tip and brings it it your soaked little cunt, making a few perfect circles that break your core and alight your soul. Your hips are grabbed by Aurelia and she brings them to Aemonds fingers. You are caught between them, helpless. You wish to speak again but Aemond covers your mouth with his hand, and you find it a little too exciting and clench your pussy muscles causing the finger to be taken deeper.

You beg aemond with your eyes for mercy and understanding. He only scoffs, a wicked gleam in his one good eye and a cruel smirk on his lips "O, Hush. You'll be silent until I have figured out a proper punishment for your treason."

You freeze, terrified. Aurelia is escorted out of the room by Aemond's hard voice. "Out, whore. Out. You corrupted my perfect pretty pet already. Crawl back to Aegon.'

He turns to you, his Submissive little dirty bad pet. He sighs, shaking his head, clicking his tongue. You feel your eyes wander, too frightend to look at Aemond. He slams the door causing you to flinch. He smirks, enjoying your fear.

When he speaks his voice is a mocking soft tone. "My sweet little naive pet. It appears I can't leave you alone without proper supervision anymore."

He might go back to restricting you or giving you a guard. Perhaps he will tie your hands on your back and chain you to the bed as his whore. You picture yourself trying to break free as his cock pounds you relentlessly, taking out his displeasure and anger on you. A small needy pressure between your legs reminds you are wet. "I can be left alone, husband. I have a been a good girl. This is all a misunderstanding..." You desperately try to explain yourself.

He scoops your asscheeks, making sure that you feel the pressure and warmth of his fingers. "I don't care, my little fox. You have proven to me that you need a big punishment." He whispers in your ear causing you to shiver and to twist on the bed. "You will be dealt with accordingly. You want to be a whore? You'll be treated as one." You let out a soft whimper as Aemond takes place behind you, first spanking you with the palm of his hand.

Once he thinks you have learned your lessons you crawl away from him only to be dragged back by your hair. You whimper in pain. "Ow Ow Ow Ow!"

"I didn't say you could leave." This time he changes his spankings into ruthless slaps that make your asscheeks jiggle with each crushing blow.

It is not spanking. It is slapping. He smacks down harder and harder as you come closer to where you wish to be. Your legs are parted and Aemond's finger eases in, you welcome him home.

Your breasts dangle as he slaps your asscheeks, inflicting anger and shame upon you. You are turning wet on his lap, cursing yourself for ir. You wish he would never discovered that you enjoy this brutal activity.

Aemond hushes you as you whimper, true tears spreading and clouding your vision. You are begging on your knees for him. "Please, husband. I only need the cock a few moments. You can have me as you like. I'll be your dirty little pet."

"Repeat after me: I am Aemond's little pet. My cunt is his and his alone. I will never commit treason to my husband again. The next time I need my pussy fucked, I come to him so he can fuck me, as is proper between man and wife."

You have no trouble repeating that. Desire dulls out your pride. You wait for him to continue. "Now, my little pet. You've had your pleasure." So it is time he will get his.

Excitement makes a slave out of you, eager to please your husband as you watch as he takes his pants off. His cock is red and swollen and pre cum drips down from it. You force your mouth under it, capturing the little drops of cum with soft moans and precision. "You will do your duties or I will punish you severely. Do you understand?" He whispers when a soft drop of cum splashes on your tongue, setting your body on fire.

You nod. "Yes, my Prince."

"You will refer to me as master or you'll be quiet."

You softly kiss his balls first, licking them for him. You taste cum and sweat a delicious combination that makes your cunt clench and your breath catch. You ease the tip of the cock inside your mouth, letting Aemond feel the muscles of your mouth work and softly message his length as he pushes it deeper and deeper inside of you. You start to suck.

A few drops of delicious cum are granted right away for your hard work. "That is it, little dirty whore. Take every drop I give you. You best swallow it all."

The erected cock leaves your mouth and you watch as it is pushed between your breasts. Aemond forces your fingers around his cockhead and you are watching speechlessy as he slowly paints your chests with a few beautiful white almost see-through drops of his cum.

You turn on your knees for him, so he may fuck you now that he is erected and hard. You clench your little cunny muscles already feeling the cock pound you without mercy or consideration. You'll be owned as a whore this time. It is what you always wanted from him but never could mutter outloud.

You repeat the words after him, desperately to get them right. "I am your whore. My cunt is yours. Please, my good master. I need to be humiliated. I need to be taught what it means to be a whore." You whisper.

You are met with silence. You beg him. You tear up. Until you feel a push in your back that forces you on all fours. You try 5o escape but are pulled back in a way that makes you gasp and giggle. Aemond smirks. "That was the answer." His cock meets your soaked entrance lips, pushing in gentle and soft at first. Your wetness makes for a very soft and smooth entering, causing Aemond to take you as deep as he can.

He stretches you out in a way, opening you up to him by slowly making his way inside of you, pushing forward as a soldier sieging a castle. Your moans and begs are desperate but ignored. It isn't long that you are filled completely by his thick and big shaft as your face gets wrinkles of pain and dedication.

"I feel your clenching. You are trying to milk my cock dry, aren't you, filthy whore?" You do just that. You don't even realize Aemond could feel you tighten around him as you do that. You repeat the process when nodding furiously. You feel him pounding away at your pussy, as spots cloud your vision. "Whores don't get to consent. They take the work they are given." He tells you when you are relentlessly pounded by his thick shaft. It hurts and yet you like the way it stretches you out. You tighten your muscles around him once more, eager for his release. He should coat your pussy with his cum. You are beyond wet and begging, your breath a soft pant.

He forces you to speak suddenly. "Tell me, slut. Do you wish to deprive me of my cum? Is that what you are trying to do with your pussy muscles?" He chuckles as you cry out once more crying.

You nod instead of lying. Instead of honourable you wish to get fucked. "Yes. It's...O...Good..."

"Since you can't make proper sentences and speak to your master with respect, you'll be silent." He tells you. The cock pounds harder and faster, ignoring your cries as he fully takes you with long hard possessive trusts. Your moans feel the room. Grunts and moans of pain leave your mouth as well as useless begs. You are owned by the prince.

You are so close. You brace yourself. Aemond notices your change very well and smugly pulls out. You watch his soaked cock, shimmering with your own transparent wetness as well as his own cum. You wish he would force it in your face so you can suck it clean for him. Your wifely duties have always fasinated you and you can't help but wish that one day Aemond would make use of you the way a owner makes use of his property. A good throat fucking when you suck and lick his balls for him, encouraging him to release himself inside your mouth. You would love nothing more to be grabbed and instead be injected into your face, the cum showing everyone at court what a whore you are. You fantasies take you further and deeper.

Aemond sits the iron throne, wearing a crown when having his legs crossed. He orders his guards to hand you to him. The entire court is present. Around dozens of people. His rich voice fills the room. "You are all here today because I commanded you all. You will see what my Willa, my little fox can do." He removes his pants very quickly and you are pushed on the throne. Your legs are spread and you are fucked when sitting the rough iron chair. You moan and gasp as your husband fucks you bloody on the throne, the iron causing small cuts and displeasure. He throws you as a animal on the hard grounds of the castle as you sob in pleasure, bucking your hips as he brutally takes you on your knees proving his dominance over you by ruthless pounding that makes you cry and beg. Noble ladies look fasinated with the prince's hard work, eager to have his cock for their own. You posessivly clench once more and start to clench repeating the process as he groans. You are milking him as he calls it. You will store all his cum inside of you, the way a dragon stores his treasure in his cave.

You are pounded as hard as Aemond can give his grunts and groans becoming harder. You need a big one. A good one. He takes a break, letting himself out...

Before slamming back inside of you, sending you closer and closer to the edge. "Such a good whore for me." He mutters to himself as he throws himself back inside of you, devouring your innocence and claiming you as his spoils. He pounds harder, pounding faster, pounding intenser. He pounds away at your body as your cries become a little louder. "I will make you cum you slut." He vows gripping your hips, driving himself inside of you as if you are a fallen soldier and he is a knife. You wish he would. You know he can.

He pounds away at you, until you are screaming incoherently and your lungs hurt from the cries. Your face is stained with sweat and tears as your husband makes his claim. He trusts even faster encouraged by your cries and your whimpers. "Beg for me." He groans.

You let go of your last bits of pride. "Please, husband." Your throat hurts when you Speak. He takes you mercilessly at this point. The pleasure kills you yet brings you back to life. You want it to stop but not that ends.

Your hips are grabbed tightly as Aemond takes a few deep breaths. "Scream for me. Let me hear how much you crave what I am giving you." He groans darkly. You nod weakly.

You scream for him, certainly loud enough for people outside the room to hear but you don't care. You wish to be good. "Aemond!"

Aemond takes you faster and faster and the line between paradise and reality blurs and blurs further and further. You hear the sound of flesh slapping against flesh as he takes you harder and harder he takes the control of you. "Say it. Say you will never belong to anyone else again." He whispers in your ear.

"I am yours. Only yours, husband, my master. My prince. My lord. My only one...My king."

Aemond eyes widen as he takes is these titles and your praise. You never been this bold before. He likes it. "Thank you, my sweetest little fox." He whispers before kissing your lips tasting his own cum on it. You nod, panting.

Aemond steadies himself. All it takes is one final push for the kinslayer to release his cum and load deep inside of you. You clench once more, eager to milk his cock when the cum flows so richly. You buck your hips desperately when Aemond curses in what you assume is high Valyrian. He finishes with a brute and inconsiderate pound, glaring at you as a animal.

It is enough to send you over the edge, causing you to fall down and to let go. Your body locks and tightens as Aemond takes it rapidly now, encouraging you to continue this marvelous show. He continues to pound a few times and with a slap on your ass and a hiss he sends you down for good. "My little fox, you will come now. You will soak yourself for your master. Show me. Show me what a marvelous whore I made."

With his approval and his approval alone, you finish in front of him, clutching him tightly inside of you when you cry out his name begging for mercy you are not worthy of.

Aemond Targaryen takes you in as you lay there, your cunt spend, wet and dripping. Your chest decorated with his cum and even your lips drip of saliva and cum. You feel tired and statisifed. You stop Aemond.

You need to tell him. Now. "Aemond; I have something to tell you." You whisper soft.

Aemond freezes and waits. You hesitate. His voice speaks and yoi hear a unfamiliar phrase as he touches your face gently. "Avy jorrāelan, willa. Issa byka dyni. Issa prince. Issa dāria. Issa jaesa. Issa ōños isse se zōbrie. Nyke jāhor zālagon dārȳti syt ao, nyke jāhor ossēnagon lī qilōni ōdrikagon īlva se daorun jāhor nykeōragon isse īlva ñuhoso. Avy jorrāelan, issa ābrazȳrys."

You don't know what he says to you. You become insecure. "Are you upset, my husband?" You ask worried.

Aemond sighs, smirking. "Go to sleep. When you have behaved tomorrow, I will share the translation." You nod, eager to please him. Aemond tucks you in and gives you a soft kiss on your forehead before he joins you under the soft blankets. Unaware to you, he does not sleep. He only glares at the door eager to get out. He has something to do.

(next chapter will be aemond pov)

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #dark aemond targaryen #house of the dragon fanfiction #dark aemond targaryen x oc #Aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen smut #Dark Aemond Targaryen smut #Aemond one eye fanfiction #SnowFallsAtWyldeCrest #dark! #head the warnings #dubcon #possible triggering content #She/her reader #AFAB Reader #DarkFantasy #Possible noncon #Possible gore #Old work

[alavenderleaf]

Tagged by @gilliebee <3

Name: Lavender and Leaf interchangeably

Pronouns: he/him and she/her interchangeably (but genuinely okay with whatever, I’m genderfluid c: )

Where do u call home? Dubai, UAE. Even tho it was meant to be a temporary arrangement I’ve lived here my whole life and now any other emirate feels off lol

Favorite animals: goats. You ever jumped around with a baby goat??? Peace and love on planet earth 🥺💕💞💝💘💖💗💓💓💘💝💞💕

When it comes to birds: chickens and pigeons. Everytime I see one I’m like that’s so me. I’m them. They’re me. We are one.

Cereal of choice: anything with chocolate bc I’m still 5 years old

are you visual, auditory or kinesthetic learner? visual for sure, my ears don’t work right and I freaking love diagrams.

First pet: I’ve never named a pet except my current cat (xiexie!!) so my first pet did not have a name. It was a smol baby chick that grew up to be a mean ass spoiled ass fucking rooster who’d peck everyone except me <3

he was raised as a girl bc whoever gave me the chick told me it’s a chicken not a rooster and my dumbass did not recognize the signs of him being male and would argue with everyone who tried convincing me otherwise 🤠 denial is one hell of a drug bc how could I see the tail and mohawk (?? Tf u call that thing on its head) and be like “yes this is a chicken :) I see nothing wrong about this” anyway trans king. He’s just like mommy <3

I did have to give him away eventually :( he was taken to some uncle’s farm and got a chicken harem like the high value alpha male I knew he always had the capacity to be 😌 (ofc until another rooster was brought over and he lost the fight. He was plucked naked and shunned and he passed away featherless and bitchless. But we don’t talk about that)

Favorite scent: ………… lavend-*gun shots*

do you believe in astrology? Not really? But it’s so much fun !! :) I am a Capricorn sun Taurus moon and Leo rising, so do with that as you will <3

how many playlists do you have in apple music/spotify? I don’t use Apple Music. Spotify is purely for my friends so we can send playlists back and forth but I hate that everything is paywalled and it decides to choose shit for me. Like bitch. I did not add any of these songs to the playlist get tf away from me. Also why can’t I listen to my music offline???? I hate u. Anyway I just checked I have 87 playlists ???? 🤠🤠 When. How. Who are all these people I literally don’t know any of them?????

Sharpies or highlighters? Sharpies!!!! I love markers in general but sharpies always fire up my creative neurons

song that makes you cry: I’ve never cried to music but Fourth of July by Sufjan Stevens makes me so. :(

song that makes you happy: not to be a stereotype but Bastans by Miami band. (It’s a staple wedding song lmao)

and finally: do you draw/write/create?: YES!! My artistic skills are. Fine. But I do write a lot! My ao3 is lavender_petal and I’ve been learning how to create gifs over on my hockey side acc @gaybroons Also! I started making little braided bracelets lately :) they’re not perfect but they are fun!! I do try my hand at some Arabic/English translations from time to time but I’m not the best at it lol

I’m tagging: @loulucifer , @lindholmline , @earth-to-sway , and anyone else who wants to do this, but no pressure <3

#tag game #I miss a lot of these sorry guys

[capcavan]

AFTG tfc ch1 Re Read by cavan

(i do not remember any details so its almost like im reading it first time lmao) tumblr does not give me read more cut off option so deal with this i guess sorry #CavanrereadAFTG if you need to block it chapter 1 "She'd beat him to the hell and back if she saw him sitting around and mopping like that" is quite violent way to phrase "she woudl be displeased to see him .." so was neil casually beaten by his mom or we only on page 4 of neil backed up trauma management and im already thinking about scene where this boy will finally brek open and admit how much he wants normal life and not having to hide his emotions and you know live a little without this whole batman personal covering his face already hit by brain made connection about how exy is what took rikos life away from him and how it's the thing that kept neil alive through the worst of his here i am making it about this little cunt already but what else were you expecting of me?

learning new things about English language always nice! neil "its cool my mom died i can finally stay in one place for a bit" how had this boy not murdered this woman himself is beyond me fr ,, please go away" neil wymack already adopted you just haven't got the adoption papers yet I wonder if Janie Smalls is taller than Andrew Minyard "her best friend found her bleeding out" okay but - who is Janie's best friend is it one of foxes? what if it's seth ? Makes sense for it to be seth nvm friend explained to me that potential recruit means she was not at palmetto at the time " Typical of a fox " see riko would make amazing fox that's boy self destructive af in all of my head cannons

broadening my vocab nice nice Notorious for their tiny size i know it's bc there only 9 of them but i will stay believing it is bc everyone is short math time, had not seen kevin in 8 years neil is 18-19 now so he was 10 ok will remember Neil: i need to be very sneaky about my past wymack: do you need a pen? neil: i can't play for you because you signed kevin day wymack: ....... ??????? I LOVE HOW ANDREW WAY TO SAY HI IS FUCKING CRUSHING NEILS LUNGS AGAINST HIS SPINE ????? forgot how radioactive they are bc of how cute they are welp things align riko broke kevins hand andrew beat up neils internal organs for no reason at all! i love when all my ships are fucked up

assailant here is the word i keep using but spelling "assultant" lmao , man im learning so much ,, Andrew was blamed for kevins recent transfer" - kandrew is strong with this one ppl in universe just assumed kevin fell in love on first sight and they ARE RIGHT

i cant tell if im here to study cannon or english but like i know what those words mean but i don't know their definitions does that make sense? OH THIS IS SO CUTE I WILL DRAW THIS FUCK YES LETS GO he slammed motherfucker with his own racket dfghsdjfhgg Hernandez is literary the only normal person over the course of those 3 books andrew *assults someone as hello* wymack: Andrew's a bit raw on manners / my dude with this reading speed it will take me half year to go through those books but im having actually a lot of fun here neil: i already said i can not sign with you wymack:OK BUT YOU STILL NEED TO EXPLAIN WHY KEVIN DAY IS THE ISSUE HERE did kevin heard it lmoa i wonder if kevin heard the ,, do you need a pen - YoU sIgNeD KeViN DaY no wonder kevin was bitch to neil he thought the lil bitch hated him on the start lmao Andrew was only here because Kevin day never went anywhere alone here you go with your raven programming <3 YEARS SINCE THEY'D WATCHED NEIL'S FATHER CUT A SCREAMING MAN INTO HUNDRED BLOODY PIECES Kevin / Dark hair and green eyes, black number 2 neil saw that number and wanted to retch He and his adopted brother Riko Moriyama wrote the numbers one and two on their faces with markers, tracing them over and over anytime they started to fade. ok so were they drawing their own numbers? it sound like kevin was drawing his number too also this is the only mention i think of riko being reffered to as kevin,s brother in the books anyway I have case to make assuming kevin and riko were doing those numbers form young age pre 10 ... it just makes sense the system they use would be Arabic not roman i just can't imagine small kids knowing roman numbers when they were neglected in nest i think this is best case i can make for it. friend provided proof that in book the four tattoo neil get's is introduced as "4" so ok arabic canon moving on Riko nad Kevin were inducted to national court 1 year pre aftg story starts They were champions and neil was a jumble of lies and dead-ends on one hand it's funny how desperate they all are to sign neil on other hand i deeply believe they just see the desperation in his eyes, we know that neil wants it and those contact lenses do not hide it , they know that he wants to say yes, they are just confused about what the fuck makes him say no (kevin's bitchiness) or at least i would make this be the case if neil didn't just got assaulted and if they didn't literary phrased it as ,, we are not living without you signing this" like .. kidnapping with extra steps much ???? playing like he has everything to lose is not excuse for you all to harass this poor man like that OK HOLD ON A SECOND "He'd remember the scrimmage interrupted by that man's murder"

what man what murder the man nathan butchered for them? did nathan murdered someone during game?

WHAT HAPPENED

the moment kevin would start looking at him funny- he already is ngl im only on page 12 and i just hate neils mom i have no phrasing for it but the fact that every choice neil could make for his happiness is meet with ,, mom would be sooo mad" is really frustrating to read about... what is the point of even being alive for this boy fr???? i wonder if theres any specific place they would have been safe it? kind of would be fun to have au where neil and his mom go to japan and end up getting protection form yakuza F BOMB 1 F BOMB 2 COMBO fuck i love those characters so much okay like all of them It's about second chances, Neil. Second, third, fourth, whatever, as long as you get at least one more than what anyone else wanted to give you"

David "idealistic idiot" Wymack wymacks sincerity is what lets foxes trust him , wymack is the first adult in their lives that understands Savge yank of her hands in his hair here we go fuck he has so much guilt over trying to live a little this is so un fair "I'm sorry"he gasped out between wet coughs. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry"

#aftg #all for the game #tfc #the foxhole court #nora sakavic #neil josten #kevin day #andrew minyard #riko moriyama #CavanrereadAFTG

[sinclair-wax-fan]

I’ve never written real fic before but I’m not immune from HoW plotbunnies.

Just a little except from a Bo X OC x Vincent fanfic I keep daydreaming about--Bo explaining how Ambrose lights stay on.

Cw: passing mention of suicide

“How is all this possible?” Faye finally asked, peering at Bo from the corner of her eye, mouth slightly down turned. 

He stopped what he was doing, turning to glance at her over his shoulder with a cocked eyebrow.

Faye kept herself as still as possible, forcing herself to hold his gaze. After a moment he turned around, wiping his hands off of a strained rag and approaching the chair across from her. She forced herself not to flinch as he settled himself down in it. Even sitting he loomed over her.

 “You see,” he started, drawing the words out, content to move at his own speed. “Ambrose is what you call an unincorporated area, meaning it never had no local government of its own. No mayor, no schools, no mail, and no law—beyond what the county would send out time from time. As for the utilities—well, back when it first popped up around the sugar mill in the 40’s, this town wasn’t nothin’ but a couple houses for the workers. They couldn’t be bothered to form a township of their own and decided to just let the company handle everything. The sugar mill decided it would be more beneficial to install their own small hydroelectric system in the river behind the plant than worry about connecting to the state grid. Less cost—plus they could just take what the locals owed for their utilities right out of their checks. More efficient for everyone.”

“Company town,” Faye whispered, shuddering slightly, a childhood education in Virginia leaving her intimately familiar with the concept.

“Smart girl,” Bo grinned, a pleased feral look, and leaned back in his chair. “Yep, the company owned just about everything in this town. Hell, even my daddy worked for them. Decided Ambrose could use a doctor of its own and hired ‘im right up—they was even willing to overlook some unpleasant business he had with the state license board, in the process. However, part of the deal was that they would let him build his own house, one he alone owned. So when they company went bust 10 years back and kicked everyone out of the town, well…”

“You stayed,” Faye concluded.

“Stayed—and bought up this whole fucking town. Company didn’t want it no more, sold it dirt fucking cheap, sugar mill, hydroplant, main strip, everything. Paid with a chunk of the inheritance Daddy left us when he, uh,…” Bo gestured towards his temple with two fingers, thumb working like the hammer of a gun. 

A silence stretched between them for a moment.

“How do you know how to keep the hydroplant working? Keep the lights on?” Faye eventually asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Bo smirked. 

“Told you, company owned everything, including my ass—for a few years.”

“You worked there?” Faye tried to picture it.

In her mind’s eye, she could see Bo clad in a drab work uniform, like the one he’d worn to lure her in, hitting the punch clock each morning and cracking dirty jokes on the factory floor with a gaggle of other blue-collar workers—whatever dark deeds he’d preformed the night before easily shucked off for the workday. Then she tried to picture him letting himself be ordered around by some foreman, day in and day out, congenial mask kept firmly in place but his temper rising slowly under the surface with each perceived slight. The idea caused a nervous pit to form in her stomach.

“Yep, in maintenance. The lead of the department was an electrical engineer. Crotchety old fuck, loved to bitch—but he knew his shit and was more than happy to go on and on about how it all worked. I had to learn some stuff later—on my own, of course—to keep it all running, but I got down the basics well enough before the company fucked off.”

#fic for the fic gods

[gamekids-firewolf]

ANYWAY, since I'm still locked out of internet on my desktop, it took me a while to get to posting this here.

Aglaé is a great character he is such a bitch and I love him.

//

When your teachers told you that your drawings weren't representative of the 'real' you, whatever that meant, you should have known then that the world wasn't as kind to beasts like you as you'd been led to believe.

Your sister is a wonderful beast. Both of your parents love you for all the skeletal shadow creatures you draw. (They praise you for your likeness to the Vicario boy, another phrase you don't really understand but sounds much more positive than your teachers' gentle but patronising remarks.) And since your sister understands what you mean when you say, without hesitation, that you would marry the satyr most of the other kids called "scary" or "gross" in that movie everyone wad afraid of but you found captivating, you decide that it's not really you who's the problem.

The only one to understand you, outside of your family, is Damon.

He's bright and charming. You love watching him discuss his plans with Niculaie and your sister; there's so much excitement to every single one of his movements. He has a glow about him, a zest for life, you reason, that's so appealing. It's irresistible.

Even when you learn that he's already made his proposal to Niculaie (it makes sense, of course. The two of them have been inseparable since before they were school age; you tell yourself this again and again as you're sobbing into your pillow, your tiny little heart broken over this indisputable fact), you can't tear yourself away from him. Your sister is fond of him, and Niculaie isn't that bad really, and Damon exists at the centre of the whole world, it seems.

"I'm going to be the King of Hell." He tells you once while you're on the playground together, him climbing the jungle gym and you sitting in the sand and mushing together formless shapes. You look at him in earnest then as he continues like it's a declaration, like it's something he's got to get out there in the world as often as possible. "I'm the son of the devil. That's what the Rabbit and the Queen have told me. Nanny says it makes me a king, so one day I'm going to rule over all of Hell."

You watch him swing about from bar to bar, looping around so he can stand atop the thing. He does look very kingly. "I'll vote for you." You tell him.

He laughs because it's ridiculous. You don't understand what makes a king a king, but you know that it involves voting. You've heard your parents talking about it, how they've been undefeated in the polls as the heads of the French branch company for years. Even knowing this isn't how it works, though, Damon tells you, with a bright and wide smile, "Thanks. You can be my secretary if you want. A good king always has a great secretary."

(His teeth were crooked then. You can't recall exactly when he returned one day from a trip to Italy and his teeth were perfectly straightened out, but you know he had crooked teeth for a long time.)

(You know a lot of his looks were crooked for a longer time than he likes admitting.)

Once Abraham gets enveloped into your little fold, you finally feel like you might have a chance. Niculaie was never interested in being the Queen of Hell, as Damon kept referring to him, but he's very invested in being the bride to a Huntsman. Even if Abraham wasn't pretty cool and a lot of fun to play made up games with, this fact alone would make you happy with him regardless of anything else. You've been reading every book you can get your hands on (horror are your favourites, though they all end in disappointment, as the monster is usually slain at the end instead of married off or otherwise alive and happily its monster self) and you know you're adequately prepared for any such courtship ritual.

Unfortunately, you hit a snag; Damon loves both Niculaie and Abraham in equal measures.

Damon isn't interested in marrying a lowly secretary.

"You are not just some lowly secretary." Damon tells you when you ask what worth being his secretary actually has one night.

This sleepover has been trying enough, from Abraham getting into a full-on brawl with your sister (for the fun of it, of course, but it still led to a lot of bandaids and bruises) to Niculaie insisting you not watch the very fun and bloody vampire movie you had picked out, but this was the last straw and so you spilled your guts to him when it was just the two of you who were awake. He confessed to you that he considered both Niculaie and Abraham as marriage candidates ("The King of Hell can have two brides!" He proclaimed) and you just broke.

"The secretary is the one who's really in charge." He tells you quite confidently despite the clear contradiction he's painting with his words. "They're always the one making the schedules, deciding what's worth a king's time, and all that."

"But you wanted to be king." You point out.

"I trust you with my whole life, Aglaé." He tells you with a huge grin. (He tells you without realising how much he's manipulating you with that charm of his.) "That's why I want you to stick by my side. You're so smart, you can help us make sure nothing gets in our way."

He's too earnest. You're absolutely putty in his hands.

And so you agree and leave matters at that. It doesn't solve the underlying issue, that you want to be his bride and he won't even consider you for that position, but you suppose, in the end, it's for the best. A self-proclaimed King of Hell doesn't really promise to be a faithful husband, anyway. You continue being his friend and train yourself out of that biting jealousy that rears up every time he grows too lovesick over Niculaie and Abraham.

Abraham is a great actor. He plays around with you and your sister as if you're all taking part in the most dire of situations, then he'll have both of you laughing until your sides split as he pivots suddenly to the ridiculous. He's wild and untamed and you can see why Niculaie and Damon love him as much as they do, even if he's not really your type.

The three of them take theatre classes together and perform in all the school plays. You and your sister attend every single one. Damon is captivating, of course, but whenever Niculaie and Abraham are playing off one another, they hold all of the crowd's attention.

(They're the perfect couple, really. So what if Abraham's dad holds some stupid grudge against Niculaie's dad? The two are just so perfect with each other that you aren't surprised when they start acting closer than simple friends.)

("If you thought you were doing a good job of hiding it, you really weren't." You told them when they finally admitted to you that they had decided to become official boyfriends. You stayed with Damon that night as he gushed and lamented in equal measures over the happiness of his friends.)

You weren't invited on their camping trip the summer before they entered the Boarding School. It was totally a spur of the moment thing, to be fair, but neither you nor Gaëlle were invited. They're only out in the mountains for three days before they're brought back much against their wills and you don't see Abraham again until school starts proper.

It's undeniable that Abraham has come back wrong. He no longer recognises you, Damon, or Niculaie as friends; he snaps at all of you, proclaims that he'll hunt you all down as a Huntsman rightly should. And, this time, it's not just an act he's putting on for fun. He really means it.

(There's something different about his eyes. You tend to notice the way light catches on certain parts due to staring at Damon all the time; his eyes are sharpened past believable reality, too. His teeth are too perfectly straight. His face is sculpted to a maximum charm that never seems one hundred percent genuine. And now it's Abraham and his eyes and how there's something not quite real about them.)

(You remember that brief time in your childhood when Damon wore glasses. He needed them to even see past his own face, but then he returned from one of those trips and suddenly his eyesight was all better. He hated those glasses anyway. Even Gaëlle noticed that one.)

Niculaie absolutely breaks. And Damon does his best to catch all the pieces, but there's no way to mend a heart so shattered.

"Abe's dad did something to him." Damon tells you one day as he and Niculaie are hanging out after classes.

Gaëlle and their new friend, a surly looking boy named Jonathan who keeps to himself, sit around the table as well, all of you pondering what went wrong with Abraham after the distraction of the boardgame didn't work. It sits woefully to the side now, in the middle of Damon's turn. You ask, "Do you know that for certain?"

"Who else could have brainwashed him like this?" Niculaie asks in return, voice quiet and venemous. It's not aimed at you, the guy is much too gentle to ever aim so much vitriol towards his friends. He's always hated Abraham's father, however. All of you do, for very good reasons.

"He's never been to Italy, has he?" Gaëlle asks, looking pointedly at Damon.

Damon shakes his head. "It was just me and Nicu who got to go. Abe logged in over here somewhere."

"Why would going to Italy change anything?" Niculaie asks, sinking down against the table in his distress. "It was just a silly little game we played. Abe even made up most of the rules for it."

Damon's expression twists in distaste. "Yeah. Just a game." He agrees.

(You've heard him complain about the Vicario boy. He never wins against the kid who's younger than him, younger than you, and so scared that he's usually crying every time they play. But Damon can't win against him and it drives him crazy.)

(You think it's a good thing. Even a King needs to be humbled sometimes. You'll even tell him that to his face when he gets too annoying about it.)

"Can't change his mind now, since he's brainwashed or whatever." Jonathan points out. He reaches past Damon and moves his piece on the board, taking an illegal turn for the hell of it, it seems. "If he snaps out of it and comes to his senses, then great. If he doesn't, though, nothing to do about it besides move on and keep living."

His positive nihilism doesn't settle Damon or Niculaie's nerves. You and your sister, however, accept this readily. "Well said." You praise him, leaning forward to move your own piece in an illegal turn.

"We'll support you, Nicu." Gaëlle says, taking her (illegal) turn after you. Her smile is always gentler with him; she regrets showing off all her teeth and making him cry when you were younger. It restrains her beauty, but that never seems to matter to anyone else.

Niculaie and Damon agree with this as well, and in the end you continue your game from where you left off. The rest of the year is filled with reports on just how drastic Abraham's changes turn out to be (you share a good laugh with Damon over the fact that he literally tried chasing down the car Niculaie was carried home in once; what even was he planning to do if he managed to catch it?) and getting better acquainted with this Jonathan fellow.

"What'cha reading this time?" He asks you one evening as the two of you settle in for a loud night of partying.

Damon's parties are always over the top and crowded, it comes with being the Kingpin of wherever he attends, but it's nice to have solidarity with one other person now. It's nice to see someone else just as aggravated by the popularity when it was never within your nature to begin with. You're a secretary, after all, meant to pull the strings from behind the scenes. "It's a romance this time." You tell Jonathan as you show him the title on the cover: 'The One from Caracossa'. You'd show him the pages, but it's in French since you're still working your way through this author's catalogue. "It's about a roommate from another world coming to live in an unsuspecting human's home and claiming it for their own."

Jonathan nods along appreciatively. "Sounds interesting. Surprised you already finished 'The Witch's Tower'."

He remembers the titles you tell him. It's what mostly cemented him within your good graces. (That, and he's always polite to your sister, even if he's disinterested in females in general.) "That was a shorter story." You say with a smile. "Next up on my list is 'The Ivies'."

"I'll leave you to it, then." Jonathan says with a little chuckle. He gives you the time to yourself as he pores over his own notebook, filled with all sorts of incomprehensible scribbles and chemical formula.

He's a scientist through and through, you've read enough over his shoulder to know this, but it still strikes you as an odd sticking point about him. He's hiding something more than his lack of interest in heteronormativity, you just can't place your finger on what.

He does, though, leave you to read until Damon strides his way over to get you involved in some silly party game, so you never look further into it. Jonathan is allowed his own secrets just as you're allowed yours.

It is ridiculous, of course, how adamant Jonathan is about his friendship with William Ernest (his roommate) being purely intellectual. Everyone else never bothers to question him on it either, however, so you hold your tongue and allow him his deniability while he can still claim it.

The year you enter the Boarding School, several new elements are introduced. One of them is that Damon gains himself a new crush in a fantastic manner. (You can't help but replay the scene in your mind from time to time; him going up to her so confidently and her punching him in the face for even daring to speak to her. If you weren't so convinced you'd be punched next, you'd love to shake hands with this legendary Paige Philips.) Another element is that this interest in a girl who has no interest in returning the sentiment brings her roommate, one Natasha Zima, crashing into your life. (And it is a crash. The way she wiggles right in-between you and your sister as if she's been your middle sibling this whole time, it's baffling. None of your unkind remarks or active disinterest dissuade her from her endeavours. She's here to stay and proud of it and in the end you can't help but admire that type of commitment.)

The final element is, of course, your introduction to the Wolf.

Petel Vitayev is an intriguing beast. You watch them bite and snarl as if they themself are flesh and blood the wolf they claim to be. You see the way they growl when raising their hackles and wonder, quite dementedly, what it might be like to ruffle them up purposely.

(It has nothing to do with jealousy. You rid yourself of most of that back when you made peace with Damon's inability to settle for a single love interest, after all. The way he hangs off this wolf, the way he drags them into your established group of friends like they absolutely have to belong by decree of the King, don't factor in at all to how much you wish to see this wolf bite and make it bleed.)

(Perhaps you've done away with the pretense of the whole thing by this point. You've been called beautiful to a nauseating degree and the only ones who see the true sharpness to your teeth are this gang Damon's drawn together, so you stopped playing polite and showed those fangs to those who refuse to respect them.)

Either way, you and Vitayev butt heads more often than you'd like to admit.

Worse still, Damon always, always, sticks up for the Wolf's defence.

"They're capable of fighting for themself, you know." You tell him one day as the two of you sit in his house. He's invited you over to study a few things for the upcoming History exam and you needed the refresher anyway. "They're a wolf. Untamed and beastly."

"You tend to go for the throat when you choose to battle." Damon says in reply, looking up from his papers and equally annoyed as you are about this. "Your cuts are always deepest and I'm sure he takes that as a challenge."

You wrinkle your nose in even stronger distaste. "I can fight my own battles, too." You stress.

"There shouldn't be any fighting in the first place." Damon sighs, as if this whole thing is more troublesome than it is personally offending. "I wanted to carve out a place of understanding and welcome for monsters like us, not create an even more hostile working environment."

He doesn't quite understand. He never will, you suppose. He's flawless and beauty and shined to an unnatural sheen and still, and still, and still, he insists he's a monster.

He's most like you in that sense; all roses on the outside, nothing but thorns on the inside.

"You're a snake." You tell him.

It's not ridicule. It's not really fondness, either. It's just a fact. He still frowns at you funny, unsure of exactly what you're communicating when you tell him this. "Is there something wrong with that?" He asks in the end.

You want to grab his face and kiss him. You want to punch him out just the same as Philips did. Perhaps then he'll understand what effect this endlessly oozing charm he has takes on others. "It's just a fact." You say in the end.

Petel doesn't stay with your group, too enamoured with Philips and her rebellion against the Kingpin. You see it as a battle of egos; her style of ruling is just more appealing to an unruly wolf like them. You've lived with Damon for so long now that you're not sure how you might deal with someone else trying to usurp his position.

A year passes and you continue your stalemate with this flaring emotion burning inside you. Damon enjoys his time at the top, Natasha keeps acting more familiar than she has any right to, and Abraham continues to be an asshole.

The arrival of the Vicario boy is what tips the scales. You're sure of it.

Suddenly, Damon has trouble keeping his cool and collected demeanour. His face slips often enough that it's surprising no one else comments on it; perhaps they're all too afraid by this point. (Or maybe you're the only one actually paying attention enough to see it.) The way he squints at the boy as if it's hard to see him, the slight show of his teeth still being a little crooked at the tops; maybe you're the one seeing things that aren't really there? Abraham's eyes, too, tend to act up in the vicinity of the Vicario boy, a reminder that there's something wrong with him every time you see him around the school. Vicario can't help but scream at every little thing that so much as makes too loud a noise or slips by too quickly, which is just…odd.

He's so different than the kid you'd built up in your head. Surely, you said to yourself, the one whom Damon could never defeat would have much more intimidating a presence. Surely, there's no way Damon lost again and again and again (enough to make him hate this poor kid to the point of actively encouraging Fiamma and Charon to fuck with him like they do) when he's the meekest little thing you've ever seen.

There's some sort of trick to it, you reason. There has to be.

But whenever you get the chance to interact with him, he flees as soon as he possibly can. Like he's nothing but the personification of fear.

(It doesn't help that, when you do manage to exist in his vicinity for even a minute, that beastliness flares up inside you. Vicario seems attached more so than the others to Petel and you're still dying to poke the wolf until they burst from that flesh prison of theirs. You poke and prod Vicario in that stead and nothing comes of it because he always flees.)

(There's clearly something wrong about him. You just can't figure out what it is until the game is activated.)

Right, the game. That's the other reason why you're convinced Vicario tipped the scales with his arrival.

Damon never paid the rumour of the towers any mind before this. "They just hold a bunch of boring janitorial stuff." He said to all of you consistently every time one of you brought it up. "Ain't nothing in there that'll shut the school down or whatever. Besides, they're always locked for a reason."

He dismissed it every time.

But now that Vicario's arrived, all of a sudden he wants to break into them and expose what's inside.

"Why are you fixated on this?" You ask him at lunch one day, after another one of his attempts to rally your whole gang into action. "What's in there can't be that damning."

"Especially not for such a high profile kid like Vicario." Jonathan agrees.

Damon shakes his head at the two of you, already upset about his whims going unanswered for a whole month. "It's not just about destroying Vicario." He assures you, lying through his (perfectly straight) teeth as he does so. "It's about having fun with it. You'll see one we get in there. It's gonna be more than just a little bit of petty revenge on my part."

(Maybe that's why you get stuck with the Thief instead of the Prince. It was just bad timing, just Damon's zealousness to get there first. Really, though, it was just karmic retribution for his own animosity towards Vicario himself.)

(You imagine sometimes what it might be like were your gang to handle the other one instead. What it might be like bouncing off his incompetence and wide-eyed wonder instead of dealing with her viciousness and lack of all other thoughts. She's as fixated on her goal for destruction as Damon and it's fitting for that reason, but you can't help but wonder about a softer fate.)

"How can it even be revenge? You said there's just a bunch of janitorial equipment in there." You say to Damon at the time.

His expression goes a bit weird. Like there's something he wants to say, but is blocked from doing so. "You'll get it when you see what's inside." He says.

You do not, in fact, get it once you see the scanners and the computer. But that all falls by the wayside once Jonathan manages to pull out one Vektoria Ketxiah and upends all of your perceptions about what this was supposed to be.

Vektoria is a whole different beast from anything you're used to. She's the thing you were most afraid of; she struts in like she owns the place and immediately starts dishing out orders, as if you're all indebted to her somehow. As if she's the new ruler of the school and all of you just so happen to be her willing peons.

"You agreed to assist me in my endeavours the moment you stopped me from completing my goals." She tells all of you later at lunch, after she's been formally introduced as a new transfer and has declared all of you as her gang members. (No one is pleased about it.) "You stopped me from deleting that Prince and settling our score, therefore you have to take retribution by helping me get back to his Kingdom to delete that instead."

"Can't you delete it from the level select hub if you really wanted?" Natasha asks, hesitant to do so.

It's a valid point. One you've thought of before, too. Vektoria's black eyes glint with an unobstructed malice as she says, "The chase is the fun part. Besides, what sort of Thief would I be if I didn't steal victory right out from under him when he least expects it?"

Damon sighs and says, "Video game logic."

"I don't think you should really be deleting a whole level of the game in the first place, let alone one of the main characters." Niculaie points out meekly.

Vektoria scoffs at him. "Him, a main character? He's more a footnote than anything so grand."

"He's a Prince, though." Jonathan points out.

"Won't deleting important data make the system go all screwy?" Natasha tries next.

Vektoria goes right back to that malice in her grin. "I'm counting on it." She tells all of you.

So there's one instance of intended murder you can jot down on your list. You're surprised you even need one, but you suppose that's how your life has been trending anyway with each escalation. You go back to your book and mumble an aggravated, "Don't expect us to be of much help, then."

Her whole attitude really doesn't gel that great with the cohesion your group has built up. Damon is the uncontested leader. Even Ian and Nick understand this. Yet she barges right in and expects all of you to follow her every command with zero explanation or building of any good faith.

(For what, for what, for what? You keep screaming it in your head, you can't understand what drives her to be this at odds. Is it contrariness for the sake of it? Misplaced rebellion? For what does she parade around and act like the most important player in the world for? For what is she expecting to accomplish by destroying the most interesting thing to happen to you so far at this Boarding School? For what??)

Needless to say, your ventures into the actual game are ruled by just as much chaos as expected.

"Our path lies ahead." Vektoria announces while you, Natasha, Niculaie, and Damon are all too busy taking in the sights of the white foliage, the depth of field, the inmersiveness of this game, to properly listen. Vektoria's outfit is more that of a fencer than a thief, though that might be what her hood (or is it a scarf?) is for. "Try to keep up, now. We've got a long road ahead of us."

She takes off into the forest, faster than any of you can hope to follow.

That day, you all end up getting kicked by two mishandled Tigers. Jonathan can't even help all that much, the system being as incomprehensible as it is.

As she storms out of her centre scanner ("Only I'm allowed to use this one." She told you as you entered for the evening. "It was built for me."), she screeches, "Why didn't any of you follow my lead?"

She tries her best to stay on her feet, but the momentum is too much. She skids to stop and instantly collapses to the floor in a heap. One hissing, miserable heap of a computer program. (She's just a program, you have to remind yourself; being as infuriating as she is seems to be enough of a trick to make you think she's just another person.) Jonathan sits back from the computer and says to her, "You didn't exactly make for an easy to follow target."

"We got swarmed by enemies!" Natasha points out next.

"How come you didn't head back and help us out?" Damon asks, tutting. "That's bad form for a leader."

"I'm the one you need to worry about keeping safe." She huffs in reply, managing to at least sit up so as not to be in a heap anymore. "I'm your guide through this experience. If I jump into a fight and get kicked out, then there'll be no progressing until the next day."

It's the excuse she'll parade around every single time and you hate it a little more with each instance. She refuses to help you during battles, leaving things mostly to you and Damon (it takes Natasha a few tries to get used to her wings and Niculaie has no arms at all for some reason) and the both of you are too close range to avoid getting away with some of the crazy manoeuvres you do.

The first time Niculaie goes Berserk, you end up getting taken out first.

"This is fucked up." You declare as you sit with Jonathan, Natasha, and Damon, waiting for AIR to do something about your friend who is still very much trapped inside this game.

(Vektoria couldn't wait. Of course she couldn't. That girl can hardly sit still for her classes, let alone wait for someone she doesn't see as more than an asset to be used for her own gain.)

(Even now, the thought of her ruling style makes you want to drag your claws down something fleshy and make it bleed.)

"They've only ever considered him a vampire." Damon says, equally as upset as you are.

Natasha asks, "Why is he a vampire, anyway? He hates being cast as one."

Jonathan grimaces, understanding the lack of control any of you have in your inheritances. Damon is the King of Hell, you're the Secretary to the King, Niculaie is a Vampire, and Jonathan is the duplicitous lawyer. You say to Natasha, "Why are you a bat girl?"

She shrugs. "I dunno. I've always thought bats were cool, I guess?"

"Our builds were predetermined." Damon points out again, doing his best to fight this misconception Natasha's built up.

She huffs at him, hands to her hips. "Paige says that Petel's a wolf and Hammy's a hunter, though. Those are exactly what they wanted to be."

Intrigued, you ask, "What about Vicario?"

"He's a fire." Damon answers.

Jonathan cranks up his sarcasm as he says, "And Frank's a necromancer or a doctor or something like that. Perfect sense."

It doesn't really answer much of anything, but you suppose it doesn't really have to. It's a weird game with weird rules in a weird place. (It's just something you have to deal with now in order to get rid of Vektoria.) Damon won't come right out and say anything about it, but you've realised that there's a block on his ability to do so and as such you refrain from prying too hard.

(All the answers he could give aren't desirable anyway. Part of you knows this so inherently that it's so much easier to pretend like this game has no deeper meanings that you kinda even forget about it in the first place.)

It takes another hour for this game to finally spit Niculaie out. You and Damon carry him home and Damon even walks him right up to the door. You stand outside the gates and wonder just what happened to make him hate his legacy so much. Besides the obvious, that is.

Abraham has a great reason to hate everything to do with his father. Well, he did before this sudden change he went through, at least. Niculaie, however, is descended from vampires and that's cool as shit. You just can't understand his reluctance towards it.

When you meet up with the other half of this gaming squad, you don't really agree with Damon's assessment. Vicario isn't fire so much as he's surrounded by fire. It isn't until the final stretch of the White Forest do you actually understand just how literal it is, when you're bouncing off his raised wall and backing away as fast as possible.

"That took a real chunk outta your health." Jonathan reports from above as you're swearing behind your teeth. Natasha is the next one to encounter these flames as they crash down on top of her like a wave from the ocean. "Whatever that is, be careful with it."

You don't get a chance to reply with something sarcastic, as a little chat between you, Natasha, Frank, and Petel leads you to racing the wolf to the end of the Forest.

It's probably the most fun you've had so far in this miserable experience. It reminds you of the games you used to play with Abraham and your sister. Back when you, Damon, Niculaie, and them were all you cared about in this world. The end of the level isn't anything spectacular, but it is a definitive end and you stand there staring out into its abyss with Petel and Frank until Vektoria comes crashing through.

Watching Vicario wall her off and ultimately defeat her is so, so satisfying. Especially after she attacked you and Natasha for no good reason.

Less satisfying is the news that Vicario destroyed Damon again, but you understand why now. Vicario is, indeed, fire in person form.

"We had a good run of it, don't you think?" Natasha asks as she, Niculaie, and you make the trek back to your last checkpoint because Jonathan can't be bothered to pull you out from where you are.

"We'll just have to try again later." Niculaie agrees.

You nod along, saying, "They're done, so only AIR can stop us now."

"And Vektoria." Jonathan says in aggravation.

Natasha laughs while you and Niculaie groan. Even Niculaie can't find it in himself to tolerate her. That's the level at which you all find yourselves with this computer program. Damon is similarly unenthused over all this, though for completely separate reasons.

Niculaie, Damon, and you all have to walk home in the dark of the evening, snow falling gently all around you. It's never really struck you before how the chill can bite to the bone, but having clashed with a wall of fire makes that disparity in temperature stand out more than ever.

"I get it now." You say to the air, to the cloudy and dark skies above, to the space around Damon instead of at him directly. It's a delicate topic. You might as well respect that for once. "How Vicario is strong enough to best all of us."

Niculaie nods along, growing despondent. "He can't lose." Niculaie says. "He was always very clear about that."

"He's a damn menace is what he is." Damon grumbles, shoving his hands into his coat pockets. "All that power, and for what? A miserable little coward like him?"

"Fear is a great motivator." You counter. "It's what's kept humans alive for centuries."

Niculaie pauses to give it some thought, though Damon waves dismissively. "What's he trying to prove, anyway? That he's able to survive? Fat lot of good it's doing him."

"Why do any of us survive?" Niculaie asks. The sincerity in his tone gets Damon to stop dead in his tracks. When he turns to look back at Niculaie, his red eyes are blown wide with actual fear. Niculaie's are full of something menacing. A knowledge of something too painful to speak aloud in no uncertain terms. "We've all been through the process. Vicario may be the only one so personally acquainted with it, but we'd all be better off forfeiting our lives than continuing as we are."

Damon surges forward and grabs onto Niculaie's arm. "I'm not losing you." He says. He's desperate. It makes his form quiver, the uncertainty disrupting that perfection almost to the point of shattering.

Niculaie says in an affirmation of sorts, "You won't. Not yet."

You can't help but be fascinated as you watch. (You can't help but be disgusted.) "If persisting is the only thing left, no wonder you can't understand." You say, breaking their moment with one another and forcing them to look at you. "You reside upon a throne of privilege. He's been cast from the good graces of his peers. You may come from similar places, but you are far from the same."

You wonder if they can see the depths of your displeasure as they stare at you. You wonder if you've managed to convey even a fraction of your devotion through that alone. Damon releases Niculaie and backs away a step with a soft, "Sorry. Just. I don't want you to shatter again."

Niculaie says, "I'll be stronger." He smiles and looks your way, surprisingly. "We both have wonderful friends to put things in perspective when we stumble."

"He just called me a privileged twat, though."

Damon runs a hand through his hair as he sighs. The trick of the darkness makes you see sharper nails there than he actually has. You think about his less perfect appearance in the game (crooked teeth, crooked horns, red fur and hooved feet, that beauty mark taking up half his face and nearly crossing out both his eyes) and close the distance between the three of you in order to hook your fingers into his coat pockets. "A King needs humbling at his most prideful." You remind him.

Niculaie laughs and Damon rolls his eyes, but the two next envelop you into a warm hug. You're not really one for physical contact, preferring to share that only with your sister, but you think this is nice. You could get used to this.

They're both friends of yours. You would fight to protect their bared claws and unruly fangs.

It's what a great secretary might do for their King of Hell.

#Game Kids #Game Kids need their own tag #Aglaé Desrosier #Damon Asheford #Niculaie Vladimirescu #Jonathan Wallace #Gaëlle Desrosier #Vektoria Ketxiah #Natasha Zima #Abraham van Helsing IV #my writing #Spoilers #Fire and Wolf #Fire and Wolf: Game Kids Book 1

[infinitewhore]

A small one-shot abt achlys past since i am sick and am NOT in the mood to continue the marrige fic or Arcas fic so yup<3

Also warning?

Italics are thoughts

"Hey Mike!"

"Ah Jordan, Everything alright?" Spoke the older operator turning around go look at the FBI Op, "Ah yeah, i just cannot find Achlys!" He chuckled while rubbing the back of his neck, "I need her for some Testing. Since Elena is busy doin stuff!"

"For elena stuff meaning Doc.."

"What was that?"

"Nothing!" As jordan was readjusting the bandages on his forearm, Mike pointed down the hallway towards the Gym, "Last time i heard 'er was the Gym" he spoke turning his back towards the younger OP again, "Thanks Mike!" Spoke jordan walking off, not before Mike spoke again, "Careful would ya? The Lass lost the plot last time i heard 'er" Jordan turned his head over his shoulder to look at mike "Lost the plot?" Mike just Chuckled, "it Means Angry" Jordan just nodded and walked off toward the gym.

A Shout was heard comming from the gym bathrooms. None would know i just eavesdrop. Right? Jordan slowly put his ear against the bathroom door, "Я не вернусь домой Папа!" Achlys shouted. Russian?! Seriously Achlys! Let me text glaz.

J.T: Hey Glazkov!

T.G: what is it Trace?

J.T: just wondering if you'd like to play translator

T.G: depends..

J.T: Achlys is on a phone call at the gym and i cannot understand what she's saying?

T.G: You do know if she finds out you're eavesdropping she will kill you. And me if i help you

J.T: I'll order you new drawing stuff?

T.G: Gym you said да?

glaz head jerked away from the door after eavesdroppingand translating for jordan for about half a hour, "you good?" Jordan whisperd to him, "Shes talking to her father. I dont know if its smart to continue." He looked at jordan, glaz's eyes showing a bit of sadness, "Why?" Glaz sighs, "If we leave her alone, and i tell you apart of her story. Do i still get the Art stuff you promised?" Jordan nodded at the russian, "Definitely."

"Her Father is... A very Abusive man." Glaz readjusted his beanie before continuing, "Last time i talked with her about it she said that-

'I joined the Spetsnaz program for 2 reasons. 1 to get away from my dad and 2, so i can train better' "

"Abusive, how?"

"The most common injuries he'd give her were broken arm's, gun- and Stab wounds she'd even pass out from exhaustion from time to time." While Glaz looked at the floor of the cafeteria, jordan put a hand on his shoulder, "you said the most common injuries, whats the worst?" Glaz balled his hands into a fist, knuckles going white, "When she was 16 he..

*Flashback *

(Just imagine everything said is in russian)

"Wake up, bitch!" Her father grabbed achlys by her ankle dragging her out of the bed, "Wh-Whats wrong dad?" Achlys just now waking up, realized what she said, "I- i meant sir! Im so sorry!" Her fear from the older man was noticeable, through her stuttering, "Shut it! Good for nothing slut!" He let go of her ankle, Now grabbing her arm instead to lift her up and tie her to a metal chair, "Sir? What are you doing?!" She tried to pull her arms and ankles free from the chains, unsuccessfully. "You are going to learn how to torture someone now, And your going to learn through pain" Hooking up a car battery to the metall chair he stroked her cheek, "you can only learn through pain dear~" and with that he stepped away, turning on the car battery. Achlys screams beaing heard through the whole compound.

After a hour of being shocked, with breaks in between, her father took away the battery, "have you had enough?~" he moved a strand of hair out of her face as the younger girl nodded, "Too bad" turning his back to the younger Girl he walked up to a table, "whats next.." he whisperd to himself. "Thats it.." grabbing a pair of tongs and a carton box he turned towards the girl, "this is going to hurt. "He chuckled, "but you know that of course" he pulled of her shoes and started to pull her toenails out with the tongs. "come on, you can handle this. Or are you Weak?", Achlys bit down on her lip shaking her head No, through a strained voice and gritted theeth she spoke quietly, "No-Not weak!", he chuckled. "And were done! Wasn't that bad hm deary?" He put a hand on her head, as he stood up from the kneeling position. "Ready for more?" he opend the box, The female started crying, "No.. please no" her please falling on empty ears as he lifts her ankels enough to put them in the box. "These are all of my broken glass bottles are you excited?" he laughed, "Yo-Your a Maniac!" She screamed at him, the words falling on deaf ears again as he applies pressure to her knees so the soles of her feet get cut by the glass. After 10 minutes he lets go of her knees, "No..No more please... i beg you." He head hung low, "fine. You'll clean yourself up tho." He untied her restrains and left.

*end if Flashback*

"What the fuck.." glaz just chuckled, "Yes, and that happend maybe three times per month" Jordan's mouth was agape, "the next day Sasha, Visited her base since he was supposed go pick a recruit up for the spetsnaz program" he Chuckled, "Слава Богу he picked her"(thank god) Jordan's broes furrowed, "Is he still a General?.." he looked at glaz in fear of other recruits he might torture like that. Glaz sighs and nodds, "No.." he coverd his mouth in a shock, "He hasn't been reported yet?!" Jordan slammed his fits into his lap, "Russia is... kinda wierd when jt comes to that stuff.." glaz rubbs the back of his neck, "But atleast shes free of his grasp?"

A pair of hands snaked themselves to Thermite and Glaz's Throats, "Where you pretty boys talking about me?"

#r6 samka #achlys

[halloranwriting]

Archery is hard - Serenity Prince

I didn’t really realize what I was getting myself into once I started to learn archery, one to learn a new weapon, two to get closer to my first Greek ancestor who was an archer along being one of the goddess’s Artemis’s hunters. But, boy was I glad I chose to do this in a hologram simulation first. For there’s so many minor details you think wouldn’t be important yet are. Such as protection for your fingers that you use to draw the arrow or a glove if the arrow rests on your hand when it is nock back. Hell, even chest protection, so you don’t get hurt by the string.

Anyway, I’m getting carry away with this, haha. Like any other simulation of the kind, you go over to the spot and pick something. In this case, a bow along with where to use said bow. For example, do you want to use the old standard bare-bones bow or maybe a compound bow to be a bit more modern? Do you want to start off with shooting stationary targets on flat land, or hill and or mountain like land, or something crazy? Knowing I’ll be terrible due to remembering how bad I was at just trying to shoot one when I was trying to figure out the best weapon for me at the start of my cycle of the Pandora war. I chose the standard bow with stationary targets on flat land. With the simulation quickly changing to a flat plains like place with several of those circle targets around the place at different ranges.

The sight did pain me, for it reminded me of Shadowwash with its Summer Fields, a real beautiful place that was now forever gone sadly...

I shook my head, for there’s another time to remember such things. Before I brought up the bow to ready myself, the simulation gave me protective gear that I mention before, a glove on my left hand that was more of a gauntlet since it went all the way to my elbow, etc. Only to then tell me how I should stand, to nock the arrow, then how to hold it when pulling it back, among a few other details. I should mention, it did this step by step as I have been in the simulations enough times that the AI knew by this point how to best teach me, not too slow but not too fast, not too many details, but not too little. Soon enough I had the posture down more or less with an arrow nocked to fire. I selected the target 30 feet away from me, adjusted my aim a little, then I shot. Only for the string to slam into my left forearm while the arrow went too far left to hit the ground. Oh, my arm was fine, the glove was oh a good material to stop a lot of the energy so no bruising, but it still hurt like a bitch. After a few minutes of trying to keep myself calm (yet swearing, a lot...) the pain faded away enough that I was able to focus again. Guess with how long it’s been since I earn, all those scars on my torso from the Pandora War lessen my pain tolerance, or maybe it was just not being used to a big ass string whacking me. Then again, at least it didn’t hit my chest, that would have been so horrible thinking about that now...

Either way, I learn from my mistake that caused the string to hit my forearm after another two shots that also caused the same thing, though at least the third arrow almost hit the target. I stayed in the simulation for a few dozen more shots, slowly getting better to the point that I can decently hit the target as I got a better feel for it. However, shooting a bow is quite different from using a sword that it left my muscles aching, forcing me to put it down for now.

All that said and done, I’m glad I’m starting to learn archery, not just to get another skill besides learning another weapon for future lifetimes. I’m glad about feeling a bit closer to those before me. Bringing me closer, even if just temporary, to them with my heritage. Hmm, reminds me that I still got to read the diary of one of my how many great grandmas that also used a bow as her main weapon during her cycle of the Pandora War. Wonder if she was inspired by our one ancestor too...

#Serenity Prince #Writing #Trans Writer #Short Story #Miss Halloran #Trying to learn a bit more about archery today for this besides for fun #Not to mention trying to better learn how to use actions in writing as you might have seen #Ugh it's been too long since I really write something much less for myself #Oh right how annoying is it going to be to try and write something daily? #Maybe it's a good thing I'm not really giving this second thoughts to get myself back into writing so I can write my book again #But hey first post for my writing account :D