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halfvalid · 8 months

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the blade daughter, pt. 1

ABOUT

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3

alternate title: dracule mihawk cures your daddy issues!

rating: mature

characters: live action!roronoa zoro | fem!reader | live action!dracule mihawk | live action!straw hat ensemble

pairing: live action!roronoa zoro x fem!reader

word count: 23.6k total | 8.3k this part

description: as the daughter of dracule mihawk, you've been living alone at home, unwilling to go out and find a life of your own due to the belief that your father needs you around. but when he sends you off to buy him a jacket, you end up running into a pirate crew—and a particular swordsman—that end up changing how you feel.

tags: mihawk's daughter!reader, female reader, canon-typical violence, cursing, no use of 'y/n', pet names per mihawk ('dear', 'darling', 'sweetheart', 'little hawk'), emotional hurt/comfort, sexual harassment (from nameless OC), slow burn

author’s note: finally she's here! i'm posting it spaced out because i don't want to overload you all with a 23.6k fic in one post... IMPORTANT NOTE: i did some research from the animanga for mihawk's personality, weapons, and home, but this is still very much only a fic for OPLA and not the other iterations of the material.

the fic is not exactly only a romance; it focuses a lot on the reader's personal character development along with her relationship with mihawk too. i hope you guys don't mind! i kind of lost the plot lol.

reader is mihawk's biological daughter, but is stated to take after her mother and doesn't bear similarity to mihawk. so the fic is poc reader friendly!

Your dad was late to dinner again.

To be fair, Dracule Mihawk didn’t exactly follow a schedule. He was fickle—back when you’d been a girl, he’d been around all the time, because although he was a lot of things, Mihawk was not an absentee parent. But as you’d grown older, he started being less strict, leaving you alone for days and weeks until you’d finally matured into an adult. Mihawk spent most of his time away from the house, now—but you agreed to have dinner together every week, no matter what part of the ocean he was in.

And he was late.

You’d started cooking the meal early, only for Mihawk to not show up when everything was ready. Or after everything was ready. Or even when everything had cooled, and you’d eaten your fill, and waited in your chair for him to arrive. He finally showed up a quarter past two in the morning, the doors of the dining room bursting open to announce his entrance.

You cracked an eye open from where you’d been dozing in your seat. “You’re late.”

“I’m sorry, darling,” Mihawk said, taking his hat off and bowing with a flourish. He pressed a kiss to the back of your hand. “I got a little busy. Garp had me deal with a pirate in the East Blue.”

You made a face at him as he sat down to eat. “Could’ve at least let me know. Den den mushi exist for a reason.”

“Ah, well, my apologies.” Mihawk sighed, dramatic as ever—you couldn’t find it in you to be mad at him for more than a few minutes, though, something he knew well. “It would’ve gone quickly had some upstart not challenged me to a duel. So I had to spend the night.” He tsked, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “And then I went to visit an old friend. Red-haired Shanks.”

“I remember him.” You got up from your seat, moving to the kitchen to rifle in the icebox for a popsicle. “Another duel? What’s this week’s body count?”

“You know I don’t tally such trifling matters, sweetheart,” Mihawk said. You shrugged, leaning against the doorway of the kitchen to watch him start eating. “This pasta is cold.”

“Wasn’t cold four hours ago,” you said, languidly licking at your popsicle. “No sympathy here, dad.”

“Fine,” Mihawk said. “Anyway, I don’t suppose you’ve ever heard of the man. Tall, green hair, three swords.” He wrinkled his nose. “Said people called him the Demon.”

“Roronoa Zoro,” you affirmed, slipping into the chair beside your father. “Scariest pirate hunter in the East Blue. You killed him?”

“Clearly not much of a pirate hunter, considering he’s a pirate now,” Mihawk said, the scrape of his knife and fork ringing around the room. “Joined the man I Garp sent me after, this little boy in a straw hat. And no. I let him and his crew go.”

You paused, voice faltering as you registered the words. “You let him live?”

“Yes. He was rather interesting. I expect he’ll come find me later,” Mihawk answered. You stared at him, still baffled. Your father was a lot of things, but a man of mercy was not one of them. Your earliest memory of him exacting his power over others was when you’d been two, watching from your crib as he speared the nanny for calling you a brat. A touching gesture, for certain, but still. “But enough about work. How have you been, little hawk?”

“Bored,” you said with a sigh. “It’s so dull on this island.”

Mihawk looked amused. “You could leave. I’m not restricting you here anymore.” Back in your teen years, Mihawk hadn’t let you leave the house—something about enemies wanting to kill his daughter or whatever else nonsense. He’d trained you personally, though, so you were nearly as fearsome as your father—able to beat anyone in combat in the blink of an eye. “You don’t have to stay.”

“The house would get all dusty,” you protested, lips tugging into a line. And it wasn’t like you hadn’t done any exploring. Mihawk had taken you to all four seas throughout your adolescence, and you’d taken vacations to everywhere of importance. You just—didn’t have much of a point to leave, really. You very much preferred not to, something tying you firmly to the island, to your castle. “And besides, where would I even go?”

“I hear the East Blue is interesting this time of year,” Mihawk said. “You could venture around here, but…” He shrugged. “The Grand Line is dangerous.”

You made a face. “I’ve lived here my entire life. I can take care of myself.”

“Certainly,” Mihawk agreed easily. “But it’s simply not worth it. You really should get out more, dear. It’s not good for your health.”

“Maybe,” you said, but you weren’t very enthusiastic about it. “Here, I’ll clean Yoru for you while you finish eating.” You moved around the back of his chair, lifting his sword off the jacket he hadn’t bothered to shed from his back. You grimaced upon seeing a line of dried blood along the blade. “Dad.”

“Sorry, dear,” Mihawk said, and you rolled your eyes, carrying the sword over to the living room. You set Yoru down with a heavy thud, pulling out a box of materials. Mihawk came over to watch you, one arm propped against the doorway as his aureate eyes gazed down as you worked.

Compared to your dad, you looked relatively normal. You’d always taken after your mother—a mysterious woman you barely had any memories of—and the relation between the two of you was never immediately obvious. The fact your eyes were plainly normal instead of bearing the golden hawk eyes Mihawk had was another factor added to that, too.

You pulled out a bottle of oil, pouring it generously over Yoru’s blade before grabbing a cloth to carefully wipe it with. “Where in the East Blue?” you asked abruptly, not looking up. Mihawk’s fork clinked along the ceramic of his bowl, presumably surprised you’d actually consider the offer of leaving.

“Well, I could send you out to run some errands if you wish. I’ve got some things to attend to,” Mihawk optioned. “There’s this one store in Loguetown with a rather nice jacket I’ve had my eye on.”

You shot him a disbelieving look. “You want me to go to the East Blue to buy you a jacket.”

Mihawk shrugged. “My birthday’s coming up.”

“No, it’s not.” You slid your rag along the edge of Yoru’s blade, folding it in half before wiping the entire thing again to ensure there was no grime left. “Finished. Maybe I’ll just stay—”

Mihawk gave you a look.

“Fine. Loguetown it is,” you said with a sigh. “Don’t give me a crew. I’ll just take one of the sloops. I’ll get your dumb jacket for you.” You got up, tossing the cloth over a shoulder to hand wash later. “I’ll leave later today.”

Mihawk clicked his tongue. “You’re so enthusiastic, darling. I can practically see the excitement oozing off of you.”

You rolled your eyes, moving past him to go up to your room. “Short trip,” you said. “No more than a couple of days.”

“The little hawk, so incited to leave the nest.”

“Shut up.”

Mihawk had complied with your wishes, as when you woke up the next morning, he had already prepared a sloop for you to board alone. You packed some of your things, not being too fussy about the clothing or other objects, knowing that the boat was already well-stocked on its own. Mihawk waited to send you off, though you knew he probably had affairs to attend to by now.

“Be good, darling,” he said, while you were loading up the last of your stuff. Just like your father, you preferred to wear your sword on your back; a present he’d given you at the age of thirteen. “I’ll call you. I’ve got business in the South Blue.”

“Have fun,” you said, and he kissed the back of your hand before pushing you off.

Loguetown was just how you’d remembered it, buzzing with civilians and pirates alike. The stores were plentiful, and filled to the brim with customers—it was all a little overwhelming compared to the peace and quiet you were used to. Still, it wasn’t a bad place to stay for a few weeks, and you might as well take your time there.

You slung your coat on as you exited the docks, glancing around the town in search of something to do first. Since you weren’t especially interested in retrieving a jacket for your father just yet, you beelined to the nearest tavern to grab something to eat. It was a lot easier traveling without Mihawk at your side—as much as you loved him, he had the habit of attracting both trouble and fear wherever he went, and he was near impossible to go out with.

The tavern was full, but not too crowded, and you managed to slip over to the bar without much trouble. It seemed to mostly consist of pirates—rough men with flowing jackets and holsters of guns and swords at their hip, clustered together in groupings that clearly proved their alliances with each other. You were one of the only patrons who was alone.

You gestured for the barkeep, and she bustled over from where she was serving a particularly ragtag group of pirates. They were mismatched, colors oddly paired—a girl with neon orange hair, a short man with a straw hat, one wearing a flowery shirt and goggles and the last man dressed in clothes far too formal for a bar. “What can I get for you?” she asked, a thick brogue dragging down her words.

You told her your drink order, still eyeing the group. The barkeep followed your vision and let out a sigh. “Don’t bother. Three men have already tried to capture him for the bounty. Broke half my furniture. And we got a rule here, anyway—no fightin’.”

“Does he have a bounty?” you asked with a frown. She scoffed.

“Does he ever. Thirty million berry, child. Highest in the East Blue.” She shook her head. “That crew won’t let anyone touch ‘im. Hell, I think his first mate’s still outside cleaning up the bodies.” She sighed again. “Well, I’ll have that drink out for you in a moment.”

You nodded, slipping into the closest available chair. Now that you were paying attention, you could see practically every pair of eyes fixed on the group—specifically, on the man in the center wearing the straw hat.

Before you could ask another question, the door to the tavern opened, and a lean, green-haired man filled the doorway. You glanced over at the barkeep, a flash of recognition in your eyes. “That’s Roronoa Zoro.”

“Aye,” she said, setting your drink in front of you. “If there’s someone who might be able to cash in that bounty, it’d be him. But believe it or not, he’s with the Straw Hat.”

You watched as the pirate hunter made his way to the table the others sat at. The glint of his famed three earrings reflected off the tavern lights, and the sword on his hip swayed as he walked—but there was only one rather than the three you’d heard tales about. “Yeah, my father said something of the sort.”

The barkeep hummed, turning to attend to a pirate who’d taken a seat at your left. “And who’s your father, lass?”

“Dracule Mihawk.”

The pirate beside you raised his head, turning towards you in almost alarm. Beside him, his crew quieted, and the barkeep glanced up to meet your eyes. “Dracule Mihawk?” she repeated incredulously.

“He sent me to buy him a coat,” you said. “I don’t suppose you know where any shops are around here?”

“Er, there’s a shop off main you might want to see,” the barkeep said, eyes flickering over to the pirate crew that had changed their focus to you. “Anything else for you, then?”

“I’m good, thanks,” you said, taking another sip of your drink. She nodded, leaving the bar in favor of moving over to another table. The pirate beside you turned slowly, stool scraping against the floor as he sneered down at you.

“Dracule Mihawk’s daughter, eh?” he asked. “Care if I buy you a drink?” Behind him, the rest of his crew tittered. You just sighed.

“Sorry, my father doesn’t let me go out with anyone who hasn’t bested me in combat.” You knocked back the rest of your drink, glancing up and down the pirate’s figure. He didn’t look like much—two pistols strapped to the hip, a longsword on the other, a raggedy leather jacket with a hat to match.

The pirate scoffed. “Please,” he said, though you could see his skin turning rapidly crimson. “I doubt you’re even related to him. No hawk eyes or nothing.”

You met his gaze, lips tightening into a line. “I take after my mother.”

“Biggest lie I ever heard, aye, crew?” The pirate turned back towards the rest of his men, and they cheered in agreement. You huffed out a sigh, trying your very best not to turn combative—despite everything, you were proud of your relationship with your father, and anyone trying to call you a liar for your lineage just left you vexed and angry. Before you could step away, though, the pirate turned towards the rest of the tavern, apparently having had a bit too much liquor. He raised his voice, practically yelling now. “Oi! This girl thinks she’s the daughter of Dracule Mihawk!”

Out of your peripheral vision, you saw Roronoa Zoro look up, the rest of his crew glancing over at you at the words. You were distracted within a second, the pirate shoving your arm. “Hey, don’t look away, girl. I’m trying to—”

You grabbed onto his wrist, nails razor-sharp as they embedded into his skin. “Don’t touch me.”

“Oh, you think you’re tough, do you?” The pirate yanked his hand out of your grip. “Did your daddy teach you how to fight, huh? Think you can beat me?”

“I know I can beat you,” you answered. The pirate reached for his sword, then, fingers tightening around the hilt.

“Alright, let’s make it a bet then. You beat me, I believe your claim about being Mihawk’s daughter.” His lips curled back into an ugly sneer, and you debated stepping out of the conversation and just going off to find that shop for your dad’s coat anyway. Fights like these were never worth getting into, and you really didn’t want to break any more of the barkeep’s furniture after she’d let out her annoyances to you.

Before you could, though, the pirate opened his big mouth once again.

“I beat you, and you go to bed with me.”

You were whipping your sword out before you could even think, red flashing in your vision as you scraped your blade out from the holster on your back. The metal gleamed under the lights, white steel bright as day as you leveled it in your hand. It wasn’t the largest weapon, a perfectly balanced cut-and-thrust spadroon with a golden hilt wrapped in white ribbon. You tightened your grip on the handle.

“I beat you,” you hissed, voice low, “and you’re dead.”

He lunged for you, pulling his sword out in one solid stroke and meeting yours in a loud clang. You shot an apologetic look towards the barkeep, spinning on your back leg and kicking the pirate away. The force caused him to stumble, sword skittering to the side as you shoved it off your blade.

One of his crew members had cocked a gun to your head, and you spun your swords toward him, blade cutting through the metal like it was butter. The rest of the crew stepped back, one or two of them lunging for you. You parried all of their attacks, shoving them to the ground until they stopped trying to fight.

The captain had gotten up, a fierce snarl upon his face as you slammed your blade down towards him. He blocked it with his sword, and then went for various attacks towards your figure—you dodged each one of them, parrying them easily as you moved backwards. At the last one, you used your weight to buck the sword back in his direction, and he stumbled again.

You ducked down, sweeping him off his feet with a well-aimed kick to his shins, and he fell, sword clattering out of reach as he dropped flat on his back. You towered over him, pointing the edge of your blade at his throat.

“You want me to go outside to kill him?” you asked. The barkeep sighed.

“If you don’t mind, lass.”

“Not at all.” You bent over, grabbing firmly onto the pirate’s shirt and yanking him upwards. His crew made a move towards you, but you just shoved your sword in their direction, and they stepped away. You spun your sword’s hilt around in your hand with a flourish, then started dragging the captain out the tavern door.

“No—wait—let me go,” the pirate begged, once you dropped him to the gravel outside and moved your sword to his throat again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—I didn’t mean it—you’re a pretty girl, that’s all—”

“I don’t date men who can’t beat me in combat,” you said coolly. “Lower your expectations.” With that, you spun your sword again, sliding it back on the holster of your jacket. “I’ll let you live just this once. If you ever make any comments towards a woman again—”

“I get it. I’m sorry,” the man said, scrambling to his feet. You just eyed him.

“I need another drink.”

The tavern was dead silent when you returned to your seat, gingerly sitting back down on the stool you’d first occupied. “Another drink, if you don’t mind,” you said to the barkeep, and she nodded. A moment passed as she filled your mug, and then she asked—

“Is Dracule Mihawk really your father?”

“Unfortunately,” you muttered, taking the drink she offered and taking a swig. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the Straw Hat pirate and his crew muttering amongst themselves. One of them nudged Roronoa Zoro in the side, and he grimaced, the loose shirt he wore parting with the motion. You caught a glimpse of bandages, wound tight with blood seeping through a familiar line. Yoru’s doing.

Zoro stood up, making his way over to the bar beside you. He propped his elbows on the table, but he didn’t sit, nodding at the barkeep. “Another round for my friends,” he said. His voice was quieter than you’d expected; a low mutter and almost soft in timbre. He glanced over at you, eyes flickering down and up again before he spoke. “I tried to kill your father.”

“Yeah, he told me,” you said. “Roronoa Zoro. What happened to your other two swords?”

Zoro scoffed. “Your dad.”

“He can be a little dramatic sometimes,” you said apologetically. He glanced over you again.

“You don’t look much like him.” He paused. “Figured I’d know if Mihawk had a daughter.”

“I take after my mother, and he’s very overprotective,” you said, getting just the slightest bit annoyed about everyone questioning your parentage. The barkeep returned then, sliding five beers across the table over to Zoro, and you stood up. “Now if you’d excuse me, I have some shopping to do.”

You exited the tavern after paying your tab, wandering around the streets of Loguetown to find the closest clothing store. Your father’s style was ridiculously grand, so it’d be something in the nicer branch of the city—you had just entered your best guess when you pulled out a shell phone, pushing the little snail into your ear and calling your father’s number.

He picked up on the first ring. “What is it, darling?”

“Did you have a specific coat in mind?” You glanced through a row of black leather, trying to find one that’d match Mihawk’s liking. “I’m at this place called Lady Tide’s Dressing Boutique. It’s the bougiest place I could find.”

“Lady Tide’s would be correct,” Mihawk said. “I trust your taste. Pick something I’d like.”

“You better be paying me back for this,” you threatened, turning the corner as you spoke. You jumped back in surprise, letting out a squeak as the Straw Hat pirate from before appeared right in front of you, a grin stretching up his face.

Mihawk’s laugh crackled through the line at your surprise. “Get startled, dear?”

“The pirate Garp sent you after is stalking me,” you deadpanned. The Straw Hat pirate’s grin only widened. “I’ll call you back.”

You hung up, taking the den den mushi out of your ear and back into its case. “What?”

“You’re a really good fighter,” the Straw Hat said brightly. “I’m Monkey D. Luffy, and I’m going to be King of the Pirates. You should think about joining my crew!”

“I—” you stared at him in disbelief, mind reeling from the whiplash of his words. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m not a pirate.”

Luffy tilted his head to the side in question. “But your dad is Mihawk.”

“That doesn’t make me a pirate. I just stay at home for the most part,” you said. Luffy continued following you around the store, however, even as you stepped past him to browse more jackets. You glimpsed the rest of his crew hanging around the store, though none seemed to do any actual shopping. You figured Lady Tide’s was probably out of their price range. “Why are you still following me?”

“I think you should join my crew,” Luffy repeated. “Have you ever been to the Grand Line? That’s where we’re headed next.”

You gave him a look. “I live in the Grand Line.”

“Whoa,” Luffy breathed. “Well, you must know all about it, then!”

You turned away from him, picking a jacket off the rack in front of you and appraising it. Golden buttons, long tailcoat, wide lapels—not really Mihawk’s taste. You set it back. “Not really,” you finally answered. “Like I said, I stay at home for the most part. Haven’t done much exploring.”

“Don’t you want to?” Luffy asked, taking a step closer to you. You flinched. “Your dad’s one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea! You should be going out and adventuring, not just staying at home and doing whatever Mihawk tells you to!”

“Don’t,” you snapped, voice low. “I stay home because I want to. Not because my dad forces me to.” Your words bore no lie, but still, there was a rumble of uncertainty deep in your gut. Mihawk had always been supportive, but pirating had always been his thing. You preferred the solace of your own home, and there was no point in adventuring when Mihawk had seen it all before.

“I’m just saying, what do you even do all day?” Luffy asked with a quirk of the lip. “Stay home and clean? Go out once in a while to buy groceries or get stuff for your dad?” He gestured at the coat you were holding, and you flushed, shoving it back onto the rack. “Isn’t it boring? Don’t you want more than such an average life?”

“I’m perfectly happy with my life right now, thank you,” you snapped. “Go preach to someone else.”

Luffy had stopped walking, then, looking at you with an almost sympathetic expression on his face. “Living isn’t the same as thriving, you know,” he said. “You should go out. Find adventure. Aren’t there things you want to know? Questions you want answered?”

“Luffy.” You turned to see Roronoa Zoro move to his captain’s side, head dipping as he spoke to him. His tone was quiet, but you could still overhear— “Leave her alone. We’ve got business.”

Luffy looked dejected at that, but he agreed, bowing his head towards you before turning to the rest of his crew. They’d gathered by the mouth of the store, engaged in their own various activities as they waited. You watched Luffy turn to leave, words climbing up your throat even as you tried to swallow them down. “Wait!”

Luffy turned, that bright smile reappearing on his face. “What?”

“I want to know one thing,” you said, taking a step closer to the captain and his first mate. You glanced up at Zoro, who met your gaze. His face seemed carved of steel, skin bearing no grimace, eyes betraying nothing. “Why did my father let you live?”

Zoro looked away, and you realized he probably didn’t know the answer himself. Before you could speak again, though, Luffy interrupted.

“Because Zoro’s the best,” he declared, capturing your attention away from the injured swordsman. He slapped Zoro’s bicep with a heavy thud, and you were surprised when the other man didn’t even flinch. “And he’s gonna be better than Mihawk one day. He’s going to defeat him in a duel and take his title and become—”

“The world’s greatest swordsman,” Zoro finished. The words were muttered under his breath, clearly to himself rather than intending for you to hear.

You watched them for a moment before finally turning away. “Okay,” you said. “Good luck with that.”

Luffy stared at you for a moment longer, but Zoro was already turning away and walking towards the rest of the crew. There was an unsettling feeling in your gut, one you tried to squash. Whatever—you had better things to do than worry about some Straw Hat pirate and a retired pirate hunter.

You returned to your browsing, looking through various jacket designs until you finally fell across one you were certain your father liked. It was ridiculously expensive, but your father’s taste had always been so—you purchased it without a second thought, slinging it across a shoulder and returning to your sloop for the rest of the day.

To your great disappointment, the Straw Hat pirate’s words continued to echo throughout your head. His demeanor was off-putting, to say the least—the extreme amounts of candor and cheeriness he had made for a disorienting combination. Even as you tried to stop thinking about his terrifyingly honest words, you couldn’t. Don’t you want more than such an average life?

You sighed, mood irritable from the day's events. You’d returned to your sloop and hadn’t done much of anything for a few hours—past having a meal and cleaning up your boat, there was nothing to do. You mulled over your options, wondering if you shouldn’t just start the journey back home. But Luffy’s words came back to you.

“I need a drink,” you muttered, donning your coat and leaving to attend the first bar you could find.

You went someplace ritzy this time, near the peak of Loguetown where neon lights glimmered in the dark hour. It was crowded, and music blasted through the bar, pounding bass nearly making the floor reverberate. You slipped inside without much trouble, squeezing through the crowd and making way for the bar at the other end of the room.

You bought yourself a drink, knocking it back in just a few gulps. There were marines patrolling around in the building, although none of them seemed too keen on completing any of their duties. Pirates walked around freely too, but these ones were more dignified than the ones you’d seen in the tavern at town.

“You hear Straw Hat Luffy’s here at Loguetown right now?” someone muttered to your right. You glanced over with a furtive gaze to see who was speaking—two men, dressed in fine silks and coats. Swords dangled from their hips. Pirates, maybe, or pirate hunters. “His ship’s docked over by south port.”

“You’re not going to try and nab him, are you?” the other pirate hunter asked, fingers pinched around a thin glass of something. “That bounty’s hefty, but fighting them’ll be…”

“I’m getting a bunch of hunters together,” the first one said. “We’ll split the bounty. At midnight, once the whole crew’s asleep. I followed the navigator; seems they’re not leaving until the morning.”

“Thirty million split between many isn’t much.”

“Well.” The hunter made a vague gesture, a smirk playing at his lips. “I doubt we’ll all be alive by the end of the night, if you know what I mean.”

“Right.” The second hunter downed the rest of his drink. “I’ll be there. Where’s the rendezvous point?”

“Slip forty at south port. Come at midnight,” the first one replied. “My boat. Theirs is at fifty-two.”

You turned away, knocking back the last of your drink before setting the glass back down on the counter. Your mind reeled, and you pulled out a pocket watch to check the time. Nearly eleven. Only an hour left.

“Another drink,” you called, but you stopped after that one. Logically, you knew the Straw Hat crew would be able to handle themselves. Your father wouldn’t have let Zoro go had he not been an impressive fighter—and Luffy certainly had to have some tricks up his sleeve, having such a high bounty and all. But an ambush was an ambush.

You needed to go home.

You paid your bill and slunk outside, taking the long road down to the port. You were docked in the east, but you found yourself wandering towards south port, hands shoved in your pockets and sword heavy on your back.

There was no logical reason to get involved with pirates, you tried to tell yourself. That was Dracule Mihawk’s area of expertise. That was Dracule Mihawk’s life. Not his daughter’s. You were not a pirate—there was no point in being one. Mihawk has done everything already.

You stepped onto the pier of south port, the wooden ramp trembling under your feet. They were shoddily constructed; oak on water, with pegs every few feet or so and ropes thrown casually across the walkways. It was overcrowded with boats, too—ships of every kind and size, smushed into spots not big enough for them depending on how much you paid the dock men. The moon shimmered on the surface of the East Blue. She was calm today, waves lapping at the edges of the docks, tranquil in the night.

You checked your watch again. Nearly midnight.

Dock forty moored a relatively small ship, but it was crowded with men—ten or fifteen, maybe, and you knew they’d be killing each other when the fight was through. Thirty million berry divided between so many people was barely worth it. You slunk past them, counting the numbers of the boat berths.

You knew the boat before you looked at the slip number based on appearance alone. It was large in size, a caravel sporting a gigantic goat figurehead. You stared at it, brows furrowed, jaw slack. Well, it was certainly a ship. There was a large sail boasting the ship’s jolly roger—a crudely designed skull and crossbones sporting the same straw hat their captain wore.

With a sigh, you pulled yourself onboard, careful to not make a sound as you landed on the deck. It was quiet, but you doubted the crew didn’t have at least one lookout for trouble. You tiptoed around the mast, moving towards the foredeck.

You were just about to step a foot on the staircase when a gleaming katana came to your throat.

“What are you doing here?”

Roronoa Zoro was as calm as ever as he held a blade to your jugular, posture perfectly straight, eyes tilted in your direction. You glanced down at the blade, registering the smooth metal. It was the white-handled one; upon seeing it closer, you could better register its quality. It must’ve been insanely durable, more so than his other blades considering Yoru hadn’t shattered this one in battle—one of the strongest blades in the world.

“What’s the sword’s name?” you asked.

Zoro ignored your question. “What are you doing here?” he repeated.

You sighed, turning towards him, although you were careful not to touch the sword. Zoro’s grip didn’t budge. “There are pirate hunters coming here,” you answered. “At midnight. An ambush.”

Zoro still didn’t move. The night sky cast his entire face in shadow, the only light on board being a trembling lantern by the interior doors. You could just barely see the gleam of one eye, yellow light shining on his cheekbone. “Why would you come?”

“Honestly, I don’t know,” you answered coolly. “My father let you go for a reason. It’d be a shame if you died before you realized why.” It was an easy lie—because the real reason was one you didn’t want to think about. Because Luffy’s words struck something in you. Because they rang true.

“We don’t need your protection.”

You shrugged, only one shoulder moving upwards before relaxing again. “Just a friendly warning.”

Carefully, Zoro lowered his blade, the steel scraping along the edge of its scabbard opening before he slid it closed. “The Wado Ichimonji.”

Your eyes were still on the sheathed katana. “Hm?”

“The sword. Its name is Wado Ichimonji.”

You tilted your head back, angling it towards the sword strapped to your jacket. “Hiru,” you said. “That’s mine.”

“Day,” Zoro translated. “You have matching swords with your father?”

“Just matching names,” you answered. “It’s a spadroon, not a kreigsmesser. Much smaller than Yoru. Birthday present. When I was thirteen.”

Zoro eyed you. “I’ll wake the rest of the crew,” he said. “You can go.”

You made no move to, consulting your watch as Zoro rang the ship’s bell. Five minutes to midnight. You could already hear the near-noiseless patter of footsteps on the pier.

The orange-haired woman was the first out, fingers wrapped around a short wooden rod. She exchanged a look with Zoro, and he nodded towards the pier. She somehow knew exactly what he meant from that, dodging back inside the ship and returning, dragging a dark-haired man out.

“Uh, what’s going on?” the man asked, stifling a yawn as he fiddled with a slingshot. Both Zoro and the woman shushed him. “Jeez, okay.” He noticed you then. “Oh, hey, you’re the hawk dude’s kid—”

“Shut up, Usopp,” the woman snapped. She’d moved by the boat’s side, ducked under the rim. The footsteps were getting louder.

The blond man came out next, hands shoved casually in his pockets and dressed in clothes you genuinely did not think functioned as sleepwear. “Hunters,” the orange-haired woman said. “Ambush.”

“Isn’t that lovely,” the blond man murmured. He caught your eye, and a smile lit up his face. “Well, hello there.”

Both Zoro and the woman rolled their eyes. Before the blond could say anything more, though, the hunters’ footsteps abruptly stopped.

The orange-haired woman spun up from her crouch, wooden stick extending into a long staff as she whipped it out. She slammed one end of the staff into an incoming hunter’s gut as he leapt aboard the ship, forcing him off the side of the vessel.

Everything happened all at once, then—you heard the slick shing! of Zoro unsheathing his katana, and the blond was up and running towards another gaggle of hunters within the second, legs flying in an assortment of well-placed kicks.

You reached over your shoulder, tugging Hiru out of its straps. The blade shone bright under the moonlight, and you caught an incoming hunter’s sword with the lick of it, shoving him backwards as you spun.

“Why’s Mihawk’s girl here?” the blond called, as he slid across the deck, leg raising up into a spinning hook. “Not that I’m complaining, of course. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” He met your eyes and winked, leaving you staring in utter disbelief until another hunter distracted you. “I’m Sanji!”

“Okay?” you asked blankly, letting out a huff of exertion as you whipped your sword toward the hunter. He’d pulled out one of his guns, wielding his blade one-handed as he fumbled with the trigger. You breathed in, recalling your father’s words from the thousands of hours spent training. Take advantage of any imbalances, sweetheart. Focus on the center of gravity.

You aimed a sliding kick at the man’s gun, using Hiru to push against his blade. The pressure caused him to fling halfway across the ship, body thudding against the mast before falling to the ground in a heap.

“Impressive,” Sanji whistled from his spot across the ship.

“Shut up,” Zoro and the orange-haired woman said in unison. Zoro was beside the fallen hunter in a second, katana slashing cleanly through his torso before he spun and shoved the blade straight into an incoming man’s stomach. Sanji just scoffed.

“Show-off,” he said accusatively. Zoro rolled his eyes, turning towards Sanji to argue, when you glimpsed someone at his back. You lunged for the man, sword cutting cleanly through his jugular before he fell across the deck, decollated.

Zoro turned, glancing over his shoulder at the body and then up at you. “You’re welcome,” you said, flicking Hiru to the side. Spatters of blood dripped off its blade.

“...Right.” The number of hunters had considerably thinned, only three or four left. The orange-haired woman was still fighting two of them, placing hits of her bo staff along two mens’ skulls. Usopp had crouched by the forecastle, firing pellets off with his slingshot. Sanji dusted off the final two men, until only the ringleader was left.

“Wait, wait.” The hunter backed away until he ran into the ship’s railing. He scrambled for his pistol, but as Zoro, Sanji, and the orange-haired woman advanced on him, apparently realized the idea was in vain. “We—we can talk about this.”

“I don’t think we can.” You turned at the new voice, watching as Luffy slipped out from the captain’s chambers. His hand came up to adjust his hat, crowned atop his head as always. “You came aboard my ship and tried to hurt my friends.”

The hunter’s jaw fell slack, mouth drying over as Luffy came to stand in front of him. The rest of the crew had parted to allow him space, and Luffy titled his head up, the lick of light from the lantern shining against his skin. A crescent-shaped scar under his eye glowed bright, the skin paler than the rest of his face.

“Gum gum…” he started, voice steadily rising in volume as he extended his hand backwards, fingers curled into a fist. To your surprise, his arm just kept stretching back, limb getting longer and longer with a distinctly rubbery stretch until it was all the way at the other side of the ship. “Pistol!”

His arm snapped back all in one, knocking the hunter straight in the jaw and shoving him off the ship in one, devastating blow. You stared at his flailing body, watching as he dropped straight into the ocean ten or so meters away with a loud plop.

You turned towards Luffy, one brow arched in question. “You’re a Devil Fruit eater?”

“The Gum Gum fruit,” Luffy said brightly. He adjusted his hat once more, fixing it atop his head before reaching an arm out to pat you on the shoulder. “Thank you for warning us. You’re a good person.”

“Don’t mention it.” You glanced down at Hiru. “Have anything I can clean my blade with?”

“Sure! Let Sanji cook you something while you’re here,” Luffy said. “It’s the least we can do.”

“Of course,” Sanji said with a little bow. “What would you like? Name anything and I’ll make it.”

You eyed him. “…Anything.”

Sanji let out an exaggerated sigh. “So uninspired. Meet you in the kitchen, then. We can leave the mosshead to clean up the bodies.”

The orange-haired woman just rolled her eyes. “I’m going back to bed,” she declared. She glanced over at you, appraising you in one solid sweep up and down your body. “I’m Nami.”

With that final word, she departed, snapping closed her staff and slipping back into the boat. Luffy, Usopp, and Sanji shuffled into the boat, presumably the kitchen. Zoro just sighed, setting his katana to the side to start cleaning up the corpses left after the battle.

You made no move to follow the others inside, watching as Zoro easily lifted up one of the hunters. The lines of his biceps strained as he climbed off the ship, still hefting the body before finally placing it down on the pier.

“Just toss them into the ocean,” you called. Zoro glanced over his shoulder, registering you standing there. He picked another body up.

“I don’t want to block our slip,” he answered.

“Fair enough. Any oil around here?” You wandered to the ship’s side, glancing through the boxes fixed to the deck. Zoro gestured in some direction that harmed more than it helped, really, but you dug through some boxes before unearthing something you could clean Hiru with.

You worked in silence, slicking the blade with the oil and rubbing off all the blood and mess that had gotten onto it. Zoro was quick, piling up all the corpses and barely-alive bodies by the dock. He shoved a few of them awake with his boot. “Go find a doctor,” you heard him mutter under his breath. You suppressed a laugh.

Eventually, Zoro climbed back on board, searching for his sword only to find it in your hands. You carefully polished off the last of the blade, then presented it to him. “You’re welcome.”

“…Thanks,” Zoro said, sheathing it in one smooth swipe.

“The cut,” you said, glancing down at his torso again. His shirt was covering the bandages, but you knew they were still there. “It was Yoru that did it. Not Kogatana.”

“The big one, yeah,” Zoro answered. You watched him thoughtfully, although you didn’t say a word. He seemed to get impatient by that, and was speaking just a moment afterwards— “Why?”

You gave a quick shake of your head. “Nothing,” you answered, the lie slipping easily off your tongue. But your mind churned with thoughts, the mere brain activity making your stomach curdle. It hadn’t clicked before, but now—your father didn’t use Yoru on anyone who wasn’t worthy. And letting Zoro live—letting the entire crew go, against Garp’s orders?

This was a more interesting group than you’d anticipated.

Zoro eyed you for a moment as you were lost in thought, though he didn’t say anything to interrupt you. Once you finally looked up, he adjusted, clearing his throat. “Should go inside to make sure the waiter isn’t burning down the kitchen,” he said, straightening.

You stood up, sliding Hiru into its scabbard on your back. “The… waiter?”

Zoro shook his head. “Long story.” He gestured with his head, nodding towards the double doors. “Kitchen.”

You followed him, the soft aroma of garlic and meat wafting around the room the instant you stepped foot inside. Everyone was crowded around the kitchen island, propped on chairs and staring as Sanji prepared a meal before them. You joined the group, glancing over Usopp’s shoulder to watch.

There was a stir-fry on the stove, garlic and onions joined by various other vegetables. Sanji drizzled soy sauce along the pan, scraping it around once with his spatula before turning down the heat. He added in some rice—leftover, it looked—along with some battered eggs, mixing it all together.

“Vegetable and chicken fried rice,” Sanji said, turning off the heat once everything had cooked through and starting to distribute it into servings. “I went for something universal because I don’t know what you like.” He met your eyes, flashing a giant, warm smile again. You took the bowl he offered, fingers wrapping around the warm ceramic.

“Thank you,” you said. The four of you stood in silence, and you had the feeling that you were intruding. The crew was a tight unit, that much was certain—wound tightly around each other, ropes intersecting in delicate knots and bows. You turned your attention to your meal. You hadn’t had a real supper, so the food was a welcome surprise, and it was damn near close to the best thing you’d ever tasted.

“So,” Luffy started, “Not to bug you about it a hundred times, but…” You glanced up. His expression was earnest as he met your eyes, lips tugged upwards in an encouraging smile even as he spoke. “Are you joining us?”

“Am I—? Oh,” you said, realizing what it was Luffy was referring to. “Is the offer still standing?”

“Always,” he answered brightly. “You’d be a good fit for our crew, you know.”

Would you really? There wasn’t much of anything special about you besides your parentage. You were as skilled a swordswoman as any, but there were hundreds better and stronger than you. There was no one thing you truly excelled at. “I’ll think about it,” you said hesitantly.

“Well, think quick. We leave at dawn,” Luffy said. “Meet us back here at blue hour if you’d like to join up.” He smiled again, all unassuming, and it was hard to believe a boy so pleasant had a thirty million berry bounty hanging suspended over his head. He yawned, stretching out his long limbs. “Well, I’m off to sleep. Sanji’s next watch.” He glanced over at Zoro. “Why don’t you walk her back to her slip, Zoro?”

Your brows furrowed, about to object, but Zoro was already standing up. He opted to say nothing, leaving you to set down your empty bowl and say your goodbyes in a hurry to follow him out.

The bodies on the pier had thinned, the alive ones presumably having dragged themselves to town to find a doctor. Zoro stepped over the heap of corpses, and you followed suit, walking in silence down south port. “I’m a little far,” you said. “You might lose your way heading back.”

“I’ll be fine,” Zoro dismissed. “I’m… sorry about Luffy. He can get overly enthusiastic.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” you said with a shake of your head. “Are the rest of the crew open to me joining, though? It didn’t seem like he consulted any of you.”

Zoro’s brows lifted at that, though you weren’t certain why. “We’re all fine with it,” he said eventually. “Luffy wouldn’t invite someone who wouldn’t fit.” He hesitated, the plod of your footsteps creaking against the dock walkway for a few paces before he parted his lips again. “I’m going to fight Mihawk again, you know.”

“I figured,” you answered. You could feel Zoro’s eyes on you, scraping along your skin like they were blades themselves.

“You’re not upset by that?”

“Everyone wants to kill him for some reason or another,” you said. “You’re not the first.” Though there was something undeniably special about him. The fact he was still alive, for one. “I figure you’re a long way from that, so I’ll have a father for a few years more until you try to kill him again.”

There was something in the way you phrased your words that sounded so very ironic, and Zoro couldn’t suppress the light grunt from escaping his lips. It was dry, brittle—but closer to a laugh than a scoff, you could tell. “Is that your blessing?”

“Sure,” you said. “I, Dracule Mihawk’s daughter, hereby allow you, Roronoa Zoro, to murder my father in a duel.” The lightness in your tone dropped. “If you don’t mind me asking…” you took in a light breath, letting the taste of the words melt on your tongue before slipping them out. “Why do you want to, anyway? Defeat him, I mean?”

“I made a promise to someone a long time ago,” Zoro answered. His footsteps slowed as you reached your slip, the small sloop you’d sailed all the way to Loguetown calm as ever where it was moored. The black sails—vague, nondescript—sucked away all the light the moon attempted to cast on it, so it was even darker than the rest of the surroundings. “I told her I would become the world’s greatest swordsman.”

“That’s heavy,” you remarked, turning to face your companion. His skin was waxy and dull under the moonlight—aftereffects of the injury he still hadn’t fully recovered from. Zoro just shrugged.

“Maybe. It’s my life’s dream.”

“He’s a good father,” you said. “I think he’d like you.” You paused. “Well, he does. He wouldn’t have let you live if he didn’t.”

Zoro stiffened, the lines of his body tightening, spine pulling up just slightly. You noticed the change—you always did. Observation had always been one of your biggest strengths. Maybe you hadn’t gotten the golden irises your father had, but you had hawk eyes of your own in that way. Never missing a thing, picking out all flaws and details in a scene. “I’m not sure if I want him to like me.”

“He doesn’t feel hatred for a lot of people,” you said. “Just disdain. Though I’m fairly certain he’d have skewered that drunk at the bar earlier if he’d been with me.”

“The one who—” Zoro looked distinctly uncomfortable as he remembered what the pirate had offered you. He made a vague gesture instead, just mildly vulgar in motion. You suppressed a laugh.

“Exactly,” you agreed. “He doesn’t have patience for that sort of thing. He also feels no man who’s weaker than me in combat isn’t man enough to be with me, though I have questions about that particular rule.”

Zoro snorted. “You could definitely do better than the drunk pirate.”

“Right.” You glanced up at the moon, watching the steady silver glow of her face along the edge of the horizon. She was full, round and white, soft powder creasing the dents and shadows of her face. “I’m out for the night, then. Thank you for walking me.”

Zoro shrugged. He didn’t say anything, so you turned away, stepping onto your sloop without another word. You ducked into the interior room, closing the door firmly behind you so you could finally relax.

You had only a handful of hours of rest ahead of you, after all.

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3

i'll be making a taglist for this series; just comment if you'd like to be added!

#opla zoro #opla roronoa zoro #opla #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x you #reader insert #x reader #one piece live action #one piece netflix #one piece live action x you #one piece live action x reader #opla fanfic #opla fanfiction #dracule mihawk #opla zoro x reader #kiki writes!

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 7 months

Note

Hi! Can I ask you about how every housewarden got to his position? Especially Idia😭

We don’t have a ton of information about how every dorm leader got into their current position.

Of the 7, Riddle and Leona won their titles by defeating the previous dorm leader in a school-sanctioned duel. In Leona's case, he also had wide-spread support from his dorm members to take up the position. Kalim, Idia, and Vil were essentially picked (well, "recommended") for the seat by the previous dorm leader. Jamil insinuates that Kalim's selection was due to nepotism, as the previous Scarabia dorm leader was a relative of Kalim's. Idia initially didn’t want to be dorm leader but then Ortho stroked his ego by saying no one else is as qualified as he is, so Idia ends up accepting the position. We have no explicit details about how Azul and Malleus came into power. However, Idia does imply that Azul "worked really hard to be considered for the position", so that could imply that Azul kissed ass was recommended by the previous dorm leader. It should also be noted that Malleus has said his Birthday Jacket vignettes that he would defeat anyone and claim the seat of dorm leader for himself no matter which alternate dorm he chooses to join; it's therefore possible that Malleus came into power at Diasomnia by just dueling the previous dorm leader. (This is just speculation on my part.)

I’ve compiled some other things we know about the process or methods to becoming a dorm leader here. There’s also this post, which has a lengthy discussion about what qualifies someone for the position of dorm leader and what tests they may need to pass, if any.

#twisted wonderland #twst #Malleus Draconia #Leona Kingscholar #Azul Ashengrotto #Riddle Rosehearts #Kalim Al-Asim #Vil Schoenheit #Idia Shroud #disney twisted wonderland #notes from the writing raven #question #Jamil Viper #Scarabia #Ortho Shroud #Ignihyde

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iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia · 7 months

Text

The Arcana HCs: Play fighting with M6

Julian

A duel, you say? Allow him to demonstrate his years of combat experience - oh you're stronger than he expected

Wait that's kind of hot

Makes no further effort to win. Does he pretend like he's trying? Yes. Have you seen how he fights when he's actually trying? Yes. Is there a marked difference between now and then? Absolutely

Oh no, you've pinned him again, MC, oh nooo ...

The only way to convince him to take it seriously is if you make some kind of bet ahead of time for something that you know he wants (e.g., unlimited quantities of caffeine for the next 24 hours)

In which case you will actually have to struggle, but you must bear in mind that this is someone who has survived so far on wit and the ability to make himself useful. He is not a combat artist

You have a good chance at winning anyways, only this time he's significantly sweatier from the effort of losing

Will absolutely try to distract you so he can get the upper hand (again, assuming that he's interested in winning)

MC, look over there! MC, has he ever told you about that one adventure near the strait of seals? MC, are you ticklish?

Asra

They are stronger than they look, and to this day nobody knows why because you've never seen them work out in their life

(it's the lifetime of constant magic use, it takes more physical stamina than you'd expect)

He's also got more practice getting through a fight than he'd like to admit to after spending his childhood on the streets

All this to say, they know how to win and you can tell

Except that he's not nearly as focused on winning as he is on finding ways to make you laugh and smile and plant a kiss wherever you're the most ticklish

Play fighting with them follows the following steps:

1) initiate fight

2) get consistently pinned into different snuggling positions

3) give up and snuggle, OR

4) alternate ending: don't give up, keep squirming out of his grip until he's tired of it all and

5) they grab the closest blanket (potentially out of thin air) and wrap you into an MC-burrito so they can snuggle you in peace (finally) while you wriggle and pout

Nadia

Hasn't done this since she was a child and her older sisters would challenge her to it. Doesn't know why you're interested in such a childish past time, but if it makes you happy ...

Hm. This is more fun than she expected

Especially when it involves lovingly pinning you and watching you try to struggle out of her hold

Actually, if you want to conserve energy, you might want to try adjusting your grip - like so - see?

And when it comes to grappling, you'd do well to shift your weight to the other leg a little more - yes, exactly like that

What starts as a play fight will quickly turn into a grappling lesson

Which is still plenty enjoyable, but it's not exactly what you were going for when you started it

No worries though. Your countess does enjoy a challenge, so improving your own skills will only serve you down the road when you initiate a rematch

If you get tired but don't want to surrender, tickling will work to get you out of her grip

Only do this with caution, as she will remember it and pay you back

Muriel

Play fighting with Muriel is impossible, but not for the reasons that you would think

To begin with, it's difficult to initiate. If you walk up to him with a broad grin and say "let's fight", he'll start checking you over to see if you've hit your head

If you run at him for a playful tackle, he'll just stand there unmoving and watch you "splat" onto him. You have strange ways of initiating physical contact and showing affection, but he doesn't judge

If anything he'll just awkwardly pat your head and then look away so you can't see his blush

The closest you'll get is by telling him you want to spar, but then he'll take it very seriously because it's important that you don't let Morga's training go to waste (and you should protect yourself)

He'll make space in the clearing and fetch your bow and his staff and set up some practice targets for you

By then you won't have the heart to tell him that that's not what you meant so it's going to be an afternoon of training instead

On the plus side, you have the benefit of watching him work out those muscles

Portia

Oh, now you're speaking her love language!

She is also very strong, but she knows that the whole point of a play fight is the fun of testing each other's limits, so she's not going to put all of her strength into defeating you

Unless, of course, you don't seem like you're giving it your all either

Well now she's fired up

Something to know about being close to Portia: she gets competitive very quickly and doesn't like giving up

The more she thinks you're holding back, the more she's going to push you until she's either found your limit or you've found hers

Play fighting has been known to devolve into a pillow fight, by the way, which begins with flying pillows

And continues with Pepi getting worked up and pouncing on said flying pillows

And ends with feathers flying everywhere while the cat subdues her foe (the now shredded pillowcase) and Portia spends the next two days picking them out of her hair

She will unironically shake your hand and say "good match" after

Lucio

He always starts off by taking it more seriously than is warranted

This is a golden opportunity to show off how strong and manly and impressive he is

Ooh, this is a lot of physical contact

He likes this. He likes this quite a lot

He thinks he can take advantage of this

All of a sudden he's completely lost focus (which you're lucky for, because unless you have a level of combat experience similar to his, he's got an advantage in both skill and enhanced arm strength)

Hey, if his shirt "accidentally" comes even more unbuttoned than it already is, that's a mere coincidence and he has no idea what you're talking about (though he doesn't mind you looking)

Oh no, there goes his cape too!!

And his shoes. And his jacket. You should probably call it quits before Mercedes and Melchior decide to play tug-of-war with his satchel and ultimately run off and bury it

Speaking of, the dogs will come running and barking if they think Lucio is losing and can't tell that it's on purpose

If his makeup gets smudged he'll pout until you kiss it better

#ask arcana brainrot #the arcana #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #the arcana game #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #portia devorak #lucio morgasson

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batnip · 2 months

Text

Reversed Karma AU

A Rainworld Alternate Universe.

...

The.. triple affirmative has been found- the affirmative that a ..solution has been found, the affirmative that the..solution is portable, and the affirmative that technical implementation is possible and generally applicable.

I remember that cycle... ancients swarmed the stuff, only privilege given to the founder, Sliver of Straw, was leaving us first.

And then cycle by cycle, our parents left..

Spoilered for absurd about of text, and general spoilers.

Saint never wanted to ascend anything. And by the time every last ancient was dead and gone, cycles passed, and structures fell. The green fuzzy thing was not once fuzzy, growing a coat as the rain sent by iterators stopped.

- - So it trailed along, guilty for what was not its fault, bringing iterators to life again. With a new name, [Pilgrim].

-- Footnote : Karma needs are reversed with the Pilgrim. Dying will up their karma, surviving will lower it. Secret passages will be added to cross gates you cannot with low karma, as it is needed to progress. =======================================

Rivulet is an odd case. I wanted them to obviously give rarefaction cells, as they did to Moon originally. So the tale goes they were created by a rebellious, younger Ancient who was fond of life and the cycle. One who refused the common ideals.

-- The swift little mouse they created, was given their own ability to create low-density rarefaction cells (singularity bombs) and refine them into more high-quality cells which the Ancient learned themself.

-- As soon as the news was spread to the general public of the triple affirmative, they sent the [Technician] out into the world, wearing several pearls describing their mission. ===========

Monk and Survivor lived with their colony, and were sent to scout a new home for the colony by the [Mapmaker]. They are named [Guard] and [Scout] in Reversed Karma. They brought Scout's two slugpups with them, even if the journey was dangerous, finding a new home for Scout pups was important to both Scout and their Sibling.

-- They find the tree in journey's end, Guard staying with the pups there as Scout tells the rest of the colony, including the leader, Mapmaker.

-- Footnote: Monk still brings Moon her cloak and several pearls. =========================================

The [Mapmaker] replaces Gourmand in Reversed Karma, making a map for their colony to follow. They are the leader of their colony.

-- Very similar to vanilla, leaving current living to the tree, showing the colony to the new home.

-- Footnote : Rain is beginning to return to normal, without cold mechanic. =====================================

The [Traveler] replaces Hunter in Reversed Karma, created by Five Pebbles to check on the local group. They spawn in the grounds of Unparralled Innocence. They do not have the Rot due to Five Pebbles more careful creation of a purposed organism compared to No Significant Harrassment.

-- Footnote : Cold mechanics are in work in these areas, as UI and CW were revived later than LTTM and FP.

-- Footnote : You may optionally visit Chasing Wind. ==========

The [Mother] replaces Artificer in Reversed Karma. Their slugpups are both alive, with the same explosive quality. They give Pebbles back his cloak and become a citizen after Sofanthiel locks onto them.

-- Footnote : Mother has bad reputation with scavengers due to passing tolls without payment before the campaign. They get a backspear due to one less hand slot having two pups.

-- Footnote : Rain has returned to normal.

-- Footnote : Mother has reduced food needs compared to vanilla Artificer due to needing to feed their pups. ===============

The [Messenger] replaces Spearmaster in Reversed Karma. They were created by Seven Red Suns to send messages between them and their friends, similar to [Traveler]'s check-ins with other iterators.

-- Footnote : Messenger has a mouth, and cannot duel wield spears.

================================================

A note from the OP: I hope you like them.. I've been wanting to show them off for a while. One of my headcannons for iterators was that the natural urges are coded into them with anti-ascension stuff. Like. Make ascension for us, but not for you. This is why they were wildly unsuccessful in finding the triple affirmative. Also.. Tumblr nuked quality of my image :c If u read all this and liked it perhaps a rb?? also hehe funny number thank u all

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xcherryerim · 2 months

Text

Si tú me quisieras

(If you loved me)

Mike schmidt x Gn!reader | wc: 2.2k

“Si tú me quisieras, el amor que quisieras lo tendrías conmigo. No soy cursilera, pero si me quisieras, sería todo distinto” — Si tú me quisieras by Nia Vanie & Adrian Bello

notes: it seems like I love writing sappy stuff for Mike at 1-4 am. I didn’t really revise this so sorry if there is many mistakes or repeated words ✨ Also the lyrics in this story is the same as the one from the intro (and yes. Mike knows spanish here)

Summary: As time goes by, it becomes increasingly difficult for Mike not to hide the secrets that are troubling him. He has had enough and decides to reveal his feelings to you, his best friend.

You caught sight of Mike wearing the same shade of sage green shirt you were wearing. With a deep breath, you called out to him, "No, no! Change, please. That's too much of a coincidence!”

Mike sighed heavily, slamming the car door shut behind him. His eyes narrowed, frustration etched onto his face. "Can you give me a break? This is the only clean shirt I have left!"

Reluctantly, you let out a frustrated groan. It wasn't about the shirt or the coincidences; it was about how deeply it affected you every time he wore that particular color. But you knew pushing him further wouldn't solve anything. So instead, you relented, "Fine, fine."

Why does it matter anyway?" he asked, increasing the volume of the radio in an attempt to cover up his unease.

Your fingers tightened around the steering wheel as you tried to explain your concern. "Because people are going to think we're a couple,"

Mike couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. He had been hoping that today would be the day when you finally noticed him in the way he wanted you to. But here he was.

“But like, we aren’t so it doesn't matter, does it?”

“I guess.” You shrugged.

You started to suggest what movie to watch at the end of the day. A little tradition you guys did after running errands together, but Mike was staring at the street, drowning in his thoughts. Did you hate the idea of dating him that much?

“No hay nada que pueda hacer que me veas, y eso me duele tanto. Y aunque tú no me quieras como yo te quiero yo te seguiré amando.” / “There's nothing I can do to make you look at me, and that breaks me. Even if you don’t love me like I love you, I'll still adore you.”

"Isn't this the song that you like, Mike?" you asked, a small smile forming on your lips.

Mike's response was quiet and subdued. "Uh, yeah."

He didn't like the song, not really. He related to it, to every verse, word, and beat. It was a reflection of his feelings, a mirror to his unspoken thoughts and emotions. The lyrics echoed through the car, resonating with both of you in different ways.

“Dicen que de amor nadie se muere, pero si este dolor es la alternativa, prefiero la muerte” / “They say no one dies out of love, but if this pain is the alternative, I rather die.”

Mike sat silently next to you, the strum of guitar strings and the singer's melodic voice echoing throughout the car. A wave of disappointment washed over him, making the atmosphere in the vehicle almost suffocating. You could sense his discomfort, but you pressed on, trying to stay focused on the road ahead.

“Te estoy amando aunque no te diga nada. Estoy guardando este secreto para mí en el fondo de mi alma. Si tú me quisieras, no perdería ni un minuto más. Me entregaría con sinceridad, si te quedas conmigo.” / “I'm loving you even if I keep quiet. I’m keeping this secret in the depths of my soul. If you loved me, I wouldn't lose another minute more. I’ll sincerely give myself to you, if you stay with me.”

…

Feeling the need to intervene, Mike quickly stepped in to assist an elderly woman who was struggling to reach for a specific medicine. "Oh, let me help with that," he said, his voice filled with genuine kindness. As he handed her the item she needed, a warm smile spread across his lips, and you couldn't help but feel proud of his compassionate nature.

The woman thanked him graciously, her eyes twinkling with gratitude. "Thank you, sweetheart," she said, her gaze shifting between you both. "You two look like a nice couple. It reminds me of when my late husband and I used to go shopping together."

A sudden flush crept up your cheeks as the weight of her words settled upon the both of you. You knew it wasn't intentional, but the implication made your heart race faster than it should. Swallowing hard, you felt the need to clarify things.

"We're not a couple," you quickly replied, your voice tinged with slight awkwardness. The heat from your blush radiated outward, an audible confession of your true feelings.

Mike smiled gently at you, his eyes dancing with a mix of mirth and sadness. "Definitely not a couple," he affirmed, a hint of longing lurking beneath the surface.

As he turned to face you, he couldn't help but notice the defensive posture you took, your arms firmly crossed over your chest. Was there pain in your eyes? No, it couldn't be. He pushed the thought aside, choosing to focus on the present moment.

"Well, you seem pretty insulted by that," he remarked casually, attempting to shift the topic away from the elephant in the room.

You raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. “What? I’m not good enough for you?” Your words were laced with humor, but the underlying emotion was undeniable. There was a yearning, a desire for something more.

Mike sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he shook his head. "We are not having this conversation again," he stated firmly. Today, he simply couldn't muster the energy for the friendly flirtation that had become a routine between the two of you.

The innocent, fun activity of grocery shopping quickly transformed into something far more uncomfortable between the two of you. The mood had shifted dramatically, leaving behind a heavy silence that seemed to grow more oppressive with every passing second.

Mike could no longer mask his emotions – his face bore the unmistakable signs of anger, complete with furrowed eyebrows and heavy breathing. His movements became more forceful as he tossed items into the cart, each action an expression of the tumultuous emotions churning within him.

Unable to bear the tension any longer, you hesitantly asked, "Are you alright?" The question hung in the air, seemingly adding fuel to the fire. The guilt you felt for asking it gnawed at your insides, knowing that you might have only exacerbated the situation.

Mike glared at you, his dark eyes flashing with hurt and resentment. At that moment, he couldn't bring himself to answer your question.

As you tried to find a way to bridge the gap, you couldn't help but wonder if this was truly the last straw in maintaining the delicate balance of your friendship. For years, the two of you had shared laughter, tears, and dreams, but now you stood on the precipice of something unfamiliar and uncertain.

…

To lighten the mood, you attempted a weak joke, "Where else, boss?" but it fell flat in the wake of the tension between the two of you.

Mike provided a terse response, focusing on giving directions to Walmart without acknowledging your attempt at humor. "I need to get a few things for Abby, she's doing a project for school," he said, buckling his seatbelt.

Attempting to ignore the growing discord, you asked, "Oh, are there any close by?" and started the car, navigating the streets according to the directions Mike had given you. However, your nerves got the better of you, and you found yourself missing turns and getting lost.

Each error only served to fuel the fire. Mike's frustration grew with every misstep, a slow burn that threatened to consume the both of you. And then, finally, it boiled over. "Left, I said fucking left!" he shouted, his voice cracking with the strain of holding back his emotions.

"My fucking god. Can you drive?"

Stung by his harsh words, you couldn't help but retaliate. "What the hell is your problem? Why are you suddenly acting like a bitch?" Angry tears pricked at your eyes, the frustration of the day taking its toll on your composure.

His eyes locked onto yours, the transit stretching on as he struggled to find the right words. Finally, he snapped, "Because you're terrible at driving!" It was a feeble excuse, an attempt to deflect from the real issue that loomed between you.

Your heart sank as you demanded answers, pleading with him to reveal the truth. "I'm not stupid, Mike. Tell me what is it!"

Mike's jaw clenched tightly, his mind racing as he tried to find the words to articulate his thoughts. But the harder he tried, the more elusive the truth seemed to become. The weight of the question pressed down upon him, threatening to crush the fragile foundation of their friendship.

Finally, he posed the question that hung between him like a cloud. "Do you hate the idea of being with me?" His heart pounded in your chest, waiting for your response, fear and hope to battle within him.

"What? Am I disgusting to you? Is it because I don't have a set job? Why?"

The weight of those words hung heavily between you, the car falling silent except for the hum of the engine. In that moment, everything felt on the line – your friendship, your future, and the truth that had been bubbling under the surface for so long.

"I never said that," you responded, your voice shaking with hurt and confusion. You grasped for some semblance of control amidst the chaos of your emotions.

"Well, you don't have to!" Mike declared, his voice wavering. Years of unspoken feelings finally burst forth, spilling out in a torrent of raw honesty. "We've avoided this for years. We're not friends!" The accusation hung in the air.

Mike recounted memories that flooded your minds, moments shared between the two of you that transcended the boundaries of friendship. "Holding hands at IKEA? Almost kissing? Showering together and almost having shower sex?"

With a bitter laugh, Mike snarled, "Friends, my balls. We're more than that, and we've been avoiding the truth for too long. It's time to face it."

"I just didn't know you liked me..." you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. The weight of the truth bore down on you, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief mixed with the overwhelming emotions that threatened to consume you.

Mike's eyes softened, and for a moment, the tension between you seemed to dissipate. "I've liked you for a long time," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I was scared to say anything, scared of losing you as a friend."

The car fell silent once more, the hum of the engine the only sound that broke the heavy silence. At that moment, the two of you sat there, grappling with the new reality that had been laid bare between you. The path forward was uncertain, but one thing was clear – the friendship you had cherished for so long has now changed.

Mike sighed deeply, attempting to gather his thoughts and steady his escalating emotions. "I understand if you don't want to ever see me again," he murmured, his tone filled with a combination of regret and resignation. Despite the turmoil, he reached out and gripped your hand tightly, a silent plea for understanding.

"But, if that is the case," he continued, his voice catching in his throat, "at least let me kiss you... for the first and last time." The request hung in the air, heavy with the implication of finality.

You felt your body tremble at his words, a mix of excitement and fear coursing through you. The prospect of sharing this intimate moment with Mike, the one person you'd always cared for, both thrilled and terrified you.

"I don't want to die without knowing what it feels like to kiss you," he said, his voice filled with a mix of longing and desperation. The weight of the moment bore down on both of you, the unspoken emotions finally giving voice.

"And you won't have to," you whispered, desperation mingling with determination in your voice. Without another word, you leaned in, closing the distance between you until your lips met his in a searing kiss that echoed the years of longing that had built up between you.

Mike hesitated for only a moment before responding, his arms wrapping around you as the passion of the moment took hold. The weight of the past years melted away, replaced by the intensity of the present. For once, the uncertainty that had plagued your friendship was gone, replaced instead by the electric connection that had always been there, hiding just beneath the surface.

As the kiss lingered, you began to realize that this was not the end, but the beginning of a new chapter for you both. The path forward may be fraught with uncertainty, but you were ready to face it together, finally embracing the love that had grown between you.

Fin, Hope you enjoyed! I just wanted to write more than smut 😪

#mike schmidt #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt fanfic #mike schmidt angst #mike schmidt headcanons #mike schmidt fnaf #mike schmidt x reader #mike schimdt x reader #mike schimdt smut #mike schmidt smut #mike schimdt x you #mike schmidt x y/n #mike schmidt x gn!reader #gender neutral reader

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astronomodome · 7 months

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It’s 3 AM and I’m stressed out so instead of doing boring things like sleeping I’m deciding whether or not I could beat each life series member in a physical fight (c! and cc!). Sorry about the violence idk why my brain thought of this. DISCLAIMER I don’t want to fight any of these people and I don’t wish any harm upon them I’m just delirious 👍 yayy

Rendog

c!: He’s just a guy with dog ears in canon so I wouldn’t be like suuuper fucked but I think I’d still lose. You know he turns up to jazzercise

cc!: Hasn’t he been through enough recently… could I win? Maybe. But I’d be a good sport about it and I’d expect him to do the same should he beat me

Grian

c!: Have you ever tried to fight a bird? Those things are scary. I got chased by a goose once and it was not fun. Yeah this ain’t happening

cc!: You know that one video of Grian demolishing that punching bag? That would be me. Do you want that for me? I don’t

Joel Smallishbeans

c!: I think I could but it would be really close and I’d have to go to the hospital immediately after. Not for fight wounds or anything I just would be worried he’d have given me rabies

cc!: I feel like I would have to fight him and Lizzie at the same time and I don’t think I could take that. Nothing can beat the power of love <3

Scott Smajor

c!: Nah I just lose and he’s judgmental about it too

cc!: LGBT infighting. I would probably lose

BigB

c!: he would win the psychic battle long before the physical battle could even begin

cc!: Man is yoked. I have died

Etho

c!: As soon as I walk up to him he teleports behind me and cuts me in half. Nothing personnel kid

cc!: Lost in the Canadian wilderness trying to track him down, I am mauled by a moose. My corpse becomes a nice meal for some wolves and I am slowly forgotten

Bdubs

c!: I could punt him with ease

cc!: I maybe could but would it really be worth it

Pearl

c!: Ripped apart by hounds so sad. I deserved it

cc!: I can’t afford to fly to Australia. Also even if I could I think she could just throw a bug at me and I would die from the 10,000 poisons that every Australian animal contains

Martyn Inthelittlewood

c!: I lied we’re not fighting I’m leading you out of the endless cycle of violence come with me

cc!: I feel like I would be overconfident going into it and then he would just deck me. Alternatively he could just recite mentally damaging lore facts at me until I fall over and die

Scar from Goodtimes

c!: He immediately engages me in a battle of wits that ends in me paying him to punch me in the face

cc!: I would concede immediately for moral reasons. Maybe we could lightsaber duel instead?

Impulse

c!: He would show up in like full netherite or something. Are these fights happening irl or in minecraft. Doesn’t matter. Either way I am gone. Reduced to ashes

cc!: That is a whole entire human being I think I’d punch him once and then apologize. It would not affect him at all. I don’t think he’d hurt me though

Tango

c!: I might have a chance but the fire hair thing might be a problem

cc!: I think it would somehow turn into a hockey match and given that I have only ice skated twice before and both times ended in me spraining my ankles real bad I don’t think my odds are looking great. He is bald though so there’s always hope

Cleo

c!: I am breakfast. She will eat me

cc!: I don’t think I’d even be able to get the fight set up I think they’d give me a fake address and leave it at that. And I would deserve it

Jimmy Solidarity

c!: We’re both rather pathetic and sad so I think in this case we would just adhere to rule of funny. Whether I win or lose depends on what’s funniest at the time

cc!: The GYM TEACHER?? No.

Skizzleman

c!: Why would I do that

cc!: :( I don’t want to do this anymore. I would lose also that is a whole ass adult man but I think he’d go easy on me so idk

Geminitay

c!: Lol. No.

cc!: I would be beaten instantly cause I’d feel bad about hurting her but honestly I don’t know why this would ever happen. We could be friends <3 sorry is that parasocial

Mumbo Jumbo

c!: I feel like he could outrun me but I could overpower him

cc!: Absolutely no chance, man could bike circles around me. I would be easily run over

Lizzie LDShadowlady

c!: Easily but I’d feel bad about it

cc!: Same as with Joel. I stand no chance against their combo attack

#sillyposting #life series #astro speaks #idk what came over me hope you enjoy my shitpost #trafficblr

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jenatwork · 9 months

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I finally finished my Utena re-watch yesterday, binging the last three episodes and Adolescence in one evening, and I am Having Thoughts. Mostly about the story from Akio's perspective, surprisingly.

I don't know if I've ever read anyone's exploration of the story from his pov, so I'm going to brain-vomit about it.

From his pov, he's the one who's trapped. The Rose Bride sealed Dios away from the world, whether for his own good or to keep her brother to herself, or both. The princely part of him, Dios, is trapped, leaving only the human part of him, Akio, out in the world, trying to regain what he's lost and cope without what he sees as his 'real' power. 'The power to revolutionise the world' is, for him, the regaining of his heroic princely aspect that made him something close to a god among mortals, a natural leader, the greatest warrior.

So what is he left with? What does a regular human man have with which to find his place in the world? What is his role, if not a prince? Is he a ladies' man? An intellectual? A fighter? A logical realist who denies the 'miracles' the prince could perform to keep people safe?

It's clear from the Black Rose arc, and from the final scenes, that Akio has repeated the duels in some form many times, assuming that he needs the right sword to open the Rose Gate and access his old power. He holds this 'might makes right' belief that physical strength or a warrior's weapon is the key to power. When Utena, just a girl, succeeds as the winner of the duels, at first he tries to persuade her to stand down, because how could a girl's sword possibly be strong enough to open the Gate? I wondered, during this watch, if this cycle was the first time that any girls had taken part in the duels, and whether that was by design or accidental. In the Black Rose arc, it's 100 boys who are drawn in to find the power or the eternal something. In this latest cycle, it's the student council, a power structure that represents intellectual masculinity: Juri, as a lesbian in a uniform closer to her male counterparts than to the other female students, might possibly have been the first girl to join the duels, an unintentional outcome perhaps inspired by Mikage, who was more easily tempted by a boy than by that boy's older sister. She still represented an aspect of masculinity in her own way, as the logical realist who denies miracles. Likewise, Nanami joins the duels initially to stand in for her brother, and leaves when she is confronted by how damaging the system is to the very people it's supposed to protect.

I wondered if perhaps Utena was never meant to join the duels. If Dios had meant to find Touga and Saionji on that particular day, and stumbled on Utena because they did. If Utena joining and winning the duels was never part of Akio's plan, and that's why he, and all the others, are so perplexed by her and never figure out how to get the better of her. Akio tries to force her into the role of 'Girl' because all he knows is playing the role of 'Man', and what else is a man supposed to do with a girl besides protect her or seduce her?

Utena succeeds because, for all her talk about wanting to be a prince to rescue girls, she gives up that roleplay and acts of of genuine love and compassion. She succeeds in besting the Rose Bride's curse because she doesn't approach it like a man, trying to seduce, fight, or logic her way through, but by loving Anthy and by having the compassion to want to end her pain.

Utena is still very much about smashing the patriarchy (literally in the case of Adolescence), but in its own way it also artfully deconstructs the ways in which patriarchy hurts men too, by limiting the roles available to them. Utena offers an alternative to the masculine roles of warrior, lover, intellectual and cynic, as well as to the feminine role of princess. The student council recognise it in the end, but Akio never does, because he is so utterly stuck in his role. That's why Anthy gets to leave at the end, telling him he's the one that's trapped, because Utena showed her that she, and we, can choose our own roles.

#revolutionary girl utena #utena #rgu #meta #akio ohtori

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flowerandblood · 7 months

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To desire, to love, to care (Oneshot)

The Impossible Choice Series Special Chapter

[ Aemond • Targaryen x Baratheon! • female ]

[ description: After years spent in Borros Baratheon's fortress, Aemond chooses his youngest daughter as his future wife. The closer to their wedding date, the more he begins to understand where his real home is. Devastated by this discovery, he consoles himself with the thought that he will finally be reunited with the one he has chosen and create his own family with her, but to do this he has to wait until his wedding night. Or not? ]

[ warnings: sex content, oral sex, fingering, kissing, smut, angst, sexual tension, domination, violence, swearing, kind of incest but not actually ]

This oneshot is an alternate reality from The Impossible Choice Series where, according to Aemond’s words in Chapter 49, he is sent to Storm’s End by his father when he is still just a child. It shows what would happen and how it would affect Aemond and Lady Baratheon, what his relationship with Borros, Royce and her other sisters would be like. This oneshot is part two of Brother, Lover, Son story, it's stands apart from the main story and is a big, long “what if”.

Other oneshot form the same AU: Daugther, Lover, Sister

Moodboards before you start reading and want feel the mood:

Aemond and Lady Baratheon • Storm’s End Stronghold • Baratheon Family • Lady Baratheon Gowns • Aemond • Lady Baratheon Mother

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Main story and my other fics: Masterlist

______

He had never been so happy in his life as he was after their betrothal was officially announced. Cassandra and Ellyn had quickly come to terms with his decision, and he didn't care about Floris or Maris' opinions. Borros and Royce seeing his engagement, the glances and quiet words he exchanged at the table with his future wife finally calmed down, reassuring themselves that his decision really did stem from his affection.

His wife-to-be, after what they did practically every night, appeared to him as even more beautiful and even more desirable, and although they allowed themselves to become intimate, letting him slide deep into her body, he promised himself that he would not undress her or cum inside her until their wedding night.

He knew he shouldn't touch her until the day of their nuptials, but he couldn't help himself.

If she had been a complete stranger to him it would have been easier, but they had shared a lifetime together, his years filled with a whole range of feelings towards her that he had not been able to reveal, which now appeared to him like a stream from which she could drink by the handful.

She knew that he loved her.

She knew it even though he had never said it to her.

She could see it in the way he looked at her when, as usual, the three of them practised in the courtyard in the morning. When, hot from the duel with Royce, he glanced at her from the corner of his eye, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

When he stared down at her, panting along with her in a sweet effort of pleasure, with the movement of his hips again and again sinking deep between her thighs, experiencing the greatest intimacy that could unite a man and a woman.

She could hear it in his voice when, at her request, he would read to her as he had when she was a small child. This time, however, he let her lie between his thighs and snuggle against his chest, the great book of the complicated history of House Targaryen before them.

She felt that as his future wife she must thoroughly understand and know his lineage.

She could not hide her surprise when she saw their family tree on one of the pages. Although she knew it, the number of marriages between sisters and brothers shocked her.

"If you had a second sister, would you marry her?" She asked quietly, her voice quivering with uncertainty, as if she felt that by her not being a Targaryen she was his second, inferior choice that he had been forced into by fate.

He hummed under his breath, leaning in, pushing back her hair with the tip of his nose, placing a soft, warm kiss on her neck.

"As far as I can remember, the Seven have bestowed upon me the grace of having as many as six sisters, though not all of them are as wise as I might wish." He murmured lowly, trailing his nose upwards to her jaw, which he brushed against with his lips feeling the heat at the words he himself had spoken.

He felt her shiver all over, a red flush on her cheek, she glanced up at him in disbelief, her lips parted slightly, her eyes shining.

"− to me you will always be my brother − that's what you told me − isn't it? − have you changed your mind? −" He asked, feeling his manhood pulsate strongly at this realisation, at the fact that he was in fact taking as his wife the girl he had seen as his family for years, that his decision was no different from what his ancestors had done, and he felt a kind of pride.

For the first time in those many years when Viserys had sent him to Storm's End he felt that his presence here really did make sense.

That Borros was more of a father to him than the King himself had ever been.

Borros knew him and his withdrawn nature, and yet he was still able to reach out to him, to instil in him the values and principles that he himself upheld.

Royce was the big brother to him that Aegon was unable to be, and although he could sometimes be irresponsible, he could always count on him, Royce always stood by his side.

And so was she.

He realised that he hadn't even noticed how they had become inseparable over the years, that they spent virtually all their days together.

He had tried to pretend, to divide himself into 'himself' and 'them', but he realised that this had never been true, because he had never been excluded by them or repelled by them himself, they moved around each other's orbits like planets, drawing each other close.

"− of course not −" She mumbled quietly pulling him out of his reverie, ashamed of her own words and their context, of how inappropriate and shameless they were. She lifted her hand and her soft, warm fingers ran over his scarred cheek.

He swallowed loudly, pressing his forehead against her temple, his hand put his book on the cold stone floor and returned back to her body, only to grasp her soft, firm breast with a greedy, thirsty gesture, separated from her hot skin by nothing but just the thin fabric of her nightgown.

She drew in a loud breath, her swollen lips parted slightly, he could see in her gaze what he wanted - hot affection and a boundless, deep desire that only he could quench.

Instinctively, they sank into each other's mouths, wet and thirsty for closeness, sucking and licking with a loud, sticky click, silent moans rippling out of her throat each time his fingers pulled gently at her nipple, playing with it.

"− please −" She whimpered as she grasped his other hand in hers, sliding it lower between her thighs in a slow, tentative motion. He murmured low into her mouth, delighted at how direct she had become, how he had completely opened her up to all physical sensations in recent weeks.

His fingers nimbly pulled the material of her chemise upwards and sank into her hot, wet womanhood, her moisture slick against his skin as he traced his fingers gently over her folds.

She squirmed before him, thirsting for more intense caresses, but he wanted to teach her patience, taking the greatest satisfaction from the sight of her twitching with pleasure.

"− Aemond −" She mumbled furrowing her eyebrows, rushing him, knowing he was playing with her, and he only smirked, feeling that he was completely hard, his length hidden in his trousers pushing against her buttocks, pulsing intensely.

"− not like that − that's not what you called me −" He murmured amused, his fingers merely teasing her clit, driving her to desperation, she quivered silently in his arms, searching for any source of more intense rubbing.

"− please, my prince −" She mewled, and he shook his head, letting out a loud expression of disappointment and tsked.

She swallowed loudly as if she suddenly understood what he meant and turned her face towards him, running her hand over his jaw in an affectionate gesture, her nose pressed against his cheek.

"− please, brother −" She mewled and moaned loudly when she felt his fingers dig into her sensitive, fleshy structure, with sure, intense circular motions massaging her pearl, making a powerful shiver of pleasure pass through her.

"− just like that − tell your big brother what his little sister needs −" He cooed as he leaned down, placing loud, sticky kisses on her neck, rubbing involuntarily against her buttocks, unable to bear the sheer tension he felt between his thighs.

He heard her cry loudly, simultaneously ashamed and aroused, her juices running straight down onto his fingers, her entrance pulsing hard, all hot, ready to welcome him inside her.

"− inside me − please, put him inside me −" She sobbed, and he lost the remnants of his strong will, letting her go, reaching quickly for the clasp of his belt.

Taking advantage of her freedom, she quickly turned to face him, sitting down on top of him with her arms around him and hovering a tad, lowering herself onto his length with such confidence and lightness that he groaned, surprised.

"− fuck −" He exhaled, tilting his head back and leaning it against the cold stone wall, clenching his eyes, placing his hands on her hips as she began to rise and fall against him, panting loudly along with him.

"− brother −" She moaned out, and he growled like an animal, slamming his cock into her with sure, deep thrusts of his hips, stretching her wet, hot muscles trying fruitlessly to resist him, looking up at her from below.

She kissed him, leaning over him, her hands entwined in his hair, her tongue sliding deep into his throat, giving him the feeling that he felt her all over him, that they were one.

He had to slide out of her embarrassingly fast, the speed with which his fulfilment came surprised him and her, but afterwards he took pity on her nonetheless and brought her to fulfilment with his two long fingers, sucking and licking her nipples through her chemise.

She was his.

The faster the moment of his journey to King's Landing approached, the more Storm's End seemed like home to him. For some reason he had thought he would stay there forever, and now that he realised he hadn't, he looked around the great halls of the Baratheon stronghold with melancholy.

He had wished that he would feel joy and satisfaction at the thought of returning to Red Keep, but this was not what happened.

Instead, he felt a kind of tightness in his throat, the unfairness of it, even if part of him felt as Borros's son and Royce's brother, he could not take part in their inheritance.

He knew every nook and cranny in Storm's End, sneaking off with Royce on expeditions through dungeons and cellars. His youngest sister would sometimes sneak out with them whenever she heard them, threatening to cry loudly if they didn't let her come with them.

So they usually ended up walking as a threesome, he and Royce holding torches and illuminating the dark, disturbing views around them, their footsteps echoing down long corridors seemingly endless.

"It is said that the ghost of a servant girl lives here. She was murdered in her sleep, but the perpetrator was never caught." Royce began, glancing over his shoulder at his younger sister, her eyebrows arched in worry, her tightened lips expressing discomfort.

"You're lying." She muttered, but without certainty. Aemond glanced at Royce, who looked at him expectantly walking beside him arm in arm.

"Haven't you heard about this story? She was found in a pool of blood with her throat slit. Everyone knows about it." He said indifferently, stretching his lie, hoping that if they scare her right she'll let them go on their trips alone.

He grinned when he heard her whimper in fear, she looked at them trying to see any sign that they had tricked her, but they both tried to keep stony faces, taking an unspoken satisfaction from it.

And suddenly they heard a loud rumble in front of them, they flinched and screamed, terrified, running away immediately like the most ordinary cowards.

As they ran up the great stone stairs to the floor on which their chambers were located he thought it was pitiful, but he was shaking all over, he could hear Royce trying to silence his sister, who was crying out in terror, holding her brother by his sleeve.

"− I don't want to sleep alone − I'm scared of this ghost − what will I do if it comes to me −" She mumbled between sobs, all wet with tears, her face red, she was barely able to get the words out between loud, ragged breaths.

The three of them ended up sleeping in Royce's bed.

At first he didn't want to stay, figuring it would show that he was scared too, which of course wasn't true, but after that he remembered the awful rumble they heard and thought that lying alone in his chamber he wouldn't sleep a wink, just looking to see if any terrifying ghost was standing over his bed.

So they all huddled under his great quilt, his youngest sister between them, snuggled into her brother, their warmth radiating in all directions making him feel safe.

He knew that if Aegon, Jace or Luke saw him now they would laugh at him, but they weren't here and he knew they would never know, so he fell asleep at last.

He woke up in the middle of the night feeling someone's small arms wrapped around him, someone's head snuggled into his chest. He knew it was her and thought she had probably mistaken him for Royce, so he didn't push her away.

He embraced her.

She was warm.

He fell asleep again.

The next day he escaped to his chamber in the morning as soon as it began to dawn, she and Royce were sleeping soundly holding hands. He felt something then looking at them, some kind of affection that made him feel ashamed and he left not wanting anyone to know what had happened.

They never talked about it afterwards but he knew that it was a turning point for them, a moment when they subconsciously understood that they were companions.

Precisely because they were so close they had concerns about what their life would be like in King's Landing after their marriage.

"Will I still be able to train with you? After our marriage?" She asked quietly one day as they stood at a table lined with all sorts of weapons. He glanced at her, completely surprised.

He didn't know what to answer.

It wouldn't bother him, what's more, he felt that her place was by his side in every aspect of his life, but what worried him was that people would gossip about her.

Say she wasn't behaving like a lady from a great house, that she wasn't a woman worthy of a prince.

He knew she would still feel like a stranger in the Red Keep and he didn't want to add to her pain.

"I don't know." He answered honestly. "Perhaps archery. However, I don't want to promise anything."

She lowered her gaze and he felt her whole body fill with sadness and disappointment. He thought with pain that she would experience more of these feelings when she became his wife, when she saw what they had to face.

His family was not like them.

Aegon was not like Royce.

And while he firmly believed that she might find a friend in Helaena, the most significant thing was that his father was not Borros.

The rainy, at first sight ugly and cold stronghold in Storm's End became, years later, his asylum that he did not want to leave.

His mother, however, had made it clear that his marriage meant his return home.

The day before he was to leave Storm's End to personally oversee the preparation of her chamber for her arrival they met again in the library, horrified that they would be separated for as much as a week.

It also seemed to him that it was becoming increasingly clear to her that she was leaving her home, and although she loved him, she was suffering because of it.

"− will − will we sometimes be able to fly here together on Vhagar? − to visit my father and Royce? −" She asked uncertainly, looking at him pleadingly, needing to hear that she would be able to visit her family, that he would not lock her in a golden cage like an animal.

He lifted his hand and stroked her firm, warm cheek.

"− of course − no one will forbid us from travelling here whenever we want − if my future duties on the council allow, we will travel here as often as possible −" He said softly and she hugged him, clearly comforted by his words, sighing with relief. He kissed her hair thinking only of the fact that she would soon be his wife, that she would bear him his children.

In the Red Keep he was joyfully greeted by his mother and his sister, her children were no longer small newborns and babbled loudly in her arms. He thought with a squeeze of his heart of his betrothed, who might be holding his child in her arms like this in the future, and felt heat in his lower abdomen, wishing only that she would join him.

As usual, the biggest disappointment for him was his father and brother. The king looked as if he was in agony, pleased to see him and asked how he was, expressing his pleasure that he was back and that he would soon meet his future wife, but beyond that he heard nothing more from him.

Looking at Aegon, seeing at night as he walked down the corridor how he sank between the thighs of the common servants when at the time Helaena was surely lulling their children to sleep in her chamber, he felt discomfort and disgust. He thought then of Royce, of how he would never find such a friend here.

Although Criston had tried to bond with him and Aemond respected him as a person, it wasn't the same. He and Royce understood each other without words.

However, he found with regret that, apart from his future wife, it was Borros that he missed most.

It was only when he was far away from their stronghold that he realised what a charismatic person he was, how much he influenced him with his very behaviour, the way he spoke and gestured.

He still had the daggers he had given him for his Name Day, just as he held in his heart the values he wanted to pass on to him then.

'You are not my son by blood, but I made you a man.'

His real father remained in Storm's End.

He was only relieved that he would become his father-in-law and his second father by marriage, allowing him at last to openly think of him that way without shame.

He oversaw the preparations for the ceremony and the furnishing of his betrothed's chamber personally. He supervised everything, from the colours of the paintings on her walls, to the choice of flowers, to the books with which her bookshelves were to be filled.

He had everything set up so that her chamber would resemble her rooms in Storm's End.

He wanted her to feel at home.

He also had his belongings moved to the chamber next to hers which were connected to each other by large double doors and could be one large room - which was his purpose.

He had no intention of living separately with her, as his father and mother did, having their rooms on two different sides of the keep.

When the day came on which she and her family were to arrive in King's Landing from the morning onwards he felt excitement and contentment, a kind of pride, as if it was his real family who were to visit him at last, as if it was just what he had been waiting for.

He, Ser Criston and his mother greeted them in person. Borros and Royce got out of the first carriage, bowing to the Queen with honour, kissing her hand in turn. They nodded at Criston, not paying much attention to him.

Royce surprised him by extending his hand to him, which he shook. His foster brother drew him in and gave him a quick hug, patting him manfully on the back, and he reciprocated the gesture, pulling away from him and grunting loudly.

Borros stared at him for a moment with such a look that he felt his heart squeeze. He swallowed loudly as he finally approached him, placing a hand on his shoulder, patting him like a proud father, his eyes red.

For some reason, he felt like crying as he looked at his face full of the affection he so longed to see in his king's eyes.

And then he saw her, she was standing at the back waiting her turn, her beautiful gown sewn in the Baratheon colours in the cut she always wore, with buff, slit sleeves and a low waist, with her breasts covered only by a white chemise.

She looked beaming, her face flushed, her eyes shining at the sight of him, big, hot and filled with affection, her hands folded in front of her on her abdomen in a gesture of humility.

He felt like throwing himself at her.

Gods, his sister, his lover, his future wife was beautiful.

His mother welcomed her with open arms, speaking quietly of how she hoped her journey had not been tiring and that everything was ready for their arrival.

For the first time at the feast in the Red Keep he felt that there was any life at all, Borros's low, hoarse laughter, the voice of Royce, Ellyn and his future wife filled the hall along with the voices of his mother and his grandfather.

He had feared that Borros would seem too coarse and straightforward to the Queen, but Lord Baratheon had clearly decided to tame his character in front of her and was at least behaving decently.

It was the first time in a long time that he had seen anyone bring his mother and grandfather to laughter, and he managed it with ease.

He felt relieved.

His fingers were entwined under the table on the armrest of his chair with hers, his thumb stroking steadily over her warm, soft skin.

He had only dreamed of touching her, but they had promised each other that upon her arrival at the Red Keep they would not risk anyone catching them, that they would wait with any kind of physical intimacy other than a kiss or the touch of a hand until their wedding night.

Now, having her close to him, he had a feeling that he would die faster than he could last those three days.

He was not mistaken.

The next day, being in the library with her, showing her the rich collections of the Red Keep, he pressed her against one of the bookcases, lifted her up, forcing her to wrap her legs around his waist and slid himself inside her, babbling that he couldn't stand it when she was this close, fucking her with fast, deep thrusts, panting hard, her face pressed into his neck to muffle the loud moans of pleasure that ripped from her throat.

He had never felt so happy in his life.

He didn't let their wedding day be spoiled by his grandfather once again suggesting that the maester should make sure his wife was a virgin, meeting his categorical objection, or be ruined by his brother shouting during the wedding feast about the bedding ceremony even though he had agreed with his mother that such a humiliating tradition would not take place.

He remembered very little of the Great Sept, standing in front of hundreds of people focused only on him, feeling small and surrounded, ringing in his ears.

He only felt relieved when he saw her, her hand on her father's palm extended in front of her, her gown was pearly and shiny, almost white like the colour of his hair, daisies tucked into her curls.

She looked so innocent.

He could not take his eyes off her.

He thought of nothing but her when they said their vows, when they revealed in front of everyone that from now on they belonged together in the face of the gods.

He could hear cheers and applause echoing off the walls, but all he could think about was her shy, warm smile and the tears of emotion that hid in the corners of her eyes.

They left the wedding feast embarrassingly quickly, once they had eaten and drunk, without even waiting for the fifth dance to end. He only growled to his brother that he would cut off his cock if he didn't shut his mouth after he mentioned undressing his wife again and then nodded to her to follow him.

He watched, standing in his chamber, as her servants helped her pull off her elaborate rich gown, untying her sleeves and bodice. One of them reached up to touch the flowers in her hair, but he intervened.

"No. The flowers are to stay." He said dryly and coldly with a pounding heart imagining her naked, clad only in tiny daisies entwined in her curls.

He saw her throw him a look full of warm affection and embarrassment, she blushed at his words and lowered her head, looking down at her hands.

"That's enough." He said impatiently as they applied the oils to her skin. She was already standing in nothing but her beautiful nightgown, richly embroidered with white threads, and he felt that he had to touch her already.

Her maids immediately left her and one by one walked out, closing the door behind them with a quiet click of wood.

He stared at her standing a few paces away, simply admiring her, the one he had chosen, the one who had been destined for him all along.

She lifted her gaze to him and smiled in her own distinctive way, warm, caring and comforting, making him feel seen, wanted, loved.

He approached her slowly feeling that they didn't need to hurry, they had already made love, and though he had never experienced fulfilment inside her it made them both know what to expect, not afraid of what the next few minutes were to bring.

He took her cheeks in his hands with gentleness and tenderness, pressing his forehead against hers, feeling strangely light, his heart hot, beating fast and hard.

"− my wife − " He whispered, and she made big eyes hearing those words for the first time, as if she only now realised it had happened, that she was his wife, that there was no turning back.

She lifted her hand and stroked his cheek, looking at him with her lips slightly parted, in her eyes some kind of awe from which squeezed his throat.

"− my husband −" She said softly. He felt her words throughout his body, a wave of heat went through him, and in a sudden, involuntary reflex he kissed her, clasping his hands in her hair, slipping his tongue between her lips, drawing a sweet, innocent moan from her.

They kissed for a while, purring and panting, stroking each other's faces, necks and hair, sure that this time they didn't have to be afraid that someone would catch them, that they didn't have to be quiet, didn't have to hide.

He grabbed her hips and lifted her up, walking with her to his bed, laying her on her back.

She looked up at him with trusting eyes as he untied the ties of her nightgown, spreading the material to the sides, revealing her naked, firm breasts to him at last. He felt his cock pulsate hard at this sight, raw, final, shameless, of her pure, beautiful flesh.

She moaned loudly, surprised, as he pressed his lips to her breast, licking her nipple with his tongue, teasing it with the very tip, her hands clenched in his hair, pressing him closer, her thighs spread wide before him in some natural, subconscious impulse.

"− please − please, husband −" She mumbled helplessly and that was the end of it, he lifted himself up on his hands and clung to her lips, with firm, sure jerks ripping her chemise open, she whined loudly into his throat, her fingers reaching for the buckles of his robe, unbuckling them one by one.

He couldn't consider that undressing went easily for them, but he didn't think anything of it, helping her to pull off his robe, chemise and trousers until finally they were both left wonderfully naked, panting loudly, moving away from each other, giving themselves a moment to admire what they were seeing.

He parted his lips slightly in an accelerated breath when he felt her fingers run over his naked chest, her fingers small, soft and warm, a pleasant shiver went through him.

He leaned in, nuzzling his face between her breasts, kissing her beautiful, firm, sweet-smelling skin, going lower and lower.

"− your husband is going to taste you tonight −" He murmured and felt her move restlessly beneath him, unsure of exactly what he meant.

He didn't stop when she squealed suddenly, seeing his face between her thighs, trying fruitlessly to push him away, startled, his breath surrounded her warm womanhood leaking with her juices, the tip of his tongue trailing over her sensitive skin, wanting to taste her.

"− Aemond − what are you - oh gods −" She mewled with difficulty as she heard him hum with satisfaction, discovering that her wetness was smelling of her and her arousal, his tongue forced its way inside her without warning as his nose teased her pearl, drawing sounds from her that he had not heard before.

He gripped her hips with his hands and spread her thighs wider, sinking his face completely into her soft flesh, her fingers tightened on his hair holding him close, she was sobbing each time the tip of his tongue teased and massaged a point hidden deep inside her.

"− come on, little sister − give it to me −" He purred in between the loud, slurping clicks of her juices caused by the flicks of his tongue, and she fell apart in his arms. He moaned low as he felt how much juices flowed out of her through her fulfilment, licking it all away with devotion.

"− you taste so good −" He cooed, wiping his face with his hand, lifting himself up, resting his weight on his knees, pushing her hips closer to him with one hand, the other jerking his manhood a few times, already dripping with his precum. "− now it's time for your big bother, don't you think? −"

He asked, watching with amusement as she failed to recover from what had just happened to her, her breathing loud, her gaze clouded, her mouth parted wide, her hands lying loosely on either side of her head.

"− I − oh −" She mumbled out as she felt him guide the tip of his manhood to her entrance and slide into her with one, sure thrust, her oversensitive muscles clenched against him in panic, his wife moaned loudly, clasping her hands at his sides, both of them were all sweaty.

He leaned over her and kissed her, moaning and purring as he slid in and out of her with slow, deep, purposeful movements with the loud slap of flesh against flesh, their tongues meeting and licking each time he sank deep into her body again.

"− yes −" She whispered with pleasure in a trembling voice, her hands shamelessly slid down to his back and buttocks, exploring his body with as much curiosity as he did, he felt a powerful shiver run down his spine and he sped up feeling that he would not last long.

"− for you to give me an heir as soon as possible − I should fill you with my seed every day − don't you think? −" He exhaled between their sticky wet kisses and felt her walls clench against him greedily at his words with pleasure, his hands on either side of her head, her thighs spread wide before him allowing him to penetrate her as deeply as he wished.

"− yes −" She uttered with difficulty between his one thrust and another, he felt his fulfillment approaching, she was too soft, too beautiful, her naked flesh pressed against him too hot.

"− beg − beg your brother-husband to fill you −" He hissed, looking down at her with satisfaction, feeling from the way her walls throbbed that she was on the verge of a second elation too.

He heard her swallow loudly and gasp, breathing hard, his bed beneath them creaking loudly with each of his brutal thrusts, her breasts bouncing up and down, mesmerising him completely, her face expressing absolute submission.

"− please − please, brother, fill me − gods, I need it −" She mewled helplessly clenching her fingers on his buttocks, as if she wanted him to thrust even deeper into her.

"− just like that − oh, fuck − yes −" He growled out with difficulty, cumming inside her so hard that for a moment he went dark before his eyes, the wave of his pleasure completely stupefying him. All he could hear was her moans of pleasure, her walls clenching against him greedily in fulfilment as his warm semen finally filled her core.

"− Aemond −" She mumbled softly, panting loudly along with him, their bodies moving for a moment longer, trying to prolong their pleasure.

He collapsed on top of her, breathing unevenly, and felt her hands immediately embrace him. They laid like that for a long moment, trying to calm themselves. He thought for sure that what they had done was heard by the entire Red Keep and involuntarily smirked under his breath.

He knew that although many men mocked him because of the fact that he was a cripple, they would be envious of his marriage, of who his wife was to him.

Everything.

_____

Taglist 1

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess

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cafeleningrad · 6 months

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Ohtori is such a disorienting place. It's so emblematic that none of the actual needs of the people in it are met. In fact it gives answers but none actually are satisfying for anyone yet the answers are presented as only alternative. ("You have to revolutionize the world (by participating in the duels that ensure the world continues to run on the same old dynamic.)"

What system Ohtori, Akio by proxy, proposes is the idea of power over another. It's very gendered power as we learn later. Women's power exists either as extension's of a man (Nanami's high social status by virtue of being Touga's little sister), be inspired to have power by extension of a man (Wakaba), surrendering to a man (Kozue), or can be easily taken away power if a man decides that the woman had enough power (Juri,Utena). In the instance a woman has power it's also used to dominate others just like men do. (Nanami being cruel to others, to Tsuwabuki in particular, Utena treating Anthy her a puzzle piece to her princely identity.) In the end there is an idea how someone who should hold all the power should be like (the Prince), and they're given free reign. However that's not what the characters need.

Touga is entirely helpless to his paternal CSA. Akio's proposition is to become, for once, the one in charge of others so none can exploit him again. And Touga fails to see how Akio still exploits him by directing Touga, with quiet implicit imagery stressing that dynamic. What Touga would have needed was protection and a trusting family.

Nanami grew up so isolated and shamed for diverging from the norm, she is entirely dependent on external subjects and objects to define her. Either it's being defined by her relationship to Touga which is the entire basis of her social status, and her only hope for affection. Nanami can only define herself by traditional feminine and classicist means like her perceived ideal femininity, and brand-name jewelry which can easily turn on her, if external voices tell her that she should wear something. Nanami is so desperate for affection, being cared and loved for but the only language she is given is Ohtori's language of "men and women are only corresponding romantically". She can't express her need for familial proximity to Touga. The only other form of gaining adoration she knows is by violence, be it Touga's kitten, Tsuwabuki, or beating her three nameless underlings into submission.

It's not until the third arc that we learn about the Kaoru twins are in the middle of their parents separating. Their childhood is getting disrupted. Both of them are longing for time of connection and chance to hold onto each other. But Ohtori tells them that Miki can only adore Kozue as innocent and helpless. Kozue, like Nanami, gets told that her only chance to express affection to her male twin is by a sexualized, romanticized interaction. For two characters who're living through turbulent times, and need some stability in the other, twisting their chance of proximity is exactly the wrong answer.

Saionji really wants to remain friends with Touga he admires so much. (If not being in love with him.) Even more than Juri, he knows that the duel platform is just a set up, he swallows Touga's poison of "true friendship doesn't exist" again and again. The only chance of proximity to Touga is to disrespect others, demonstrate superiority over them, especially Anthy, as best proxy to a close male-male-dynamic. Saionji's only given path is to delude himself further and further.

Juri pushes so many people away because she's afraid her homosexuality will be revealed. Ohtori as a place does punish homosexuality severely, see Mikage's twisted memory, Ruka trying to converse Juri. This place convinces Juri over and over again that she's wrong for loving Shiori. But the truth is, Shiori is so much in love with Juri that she will resort to abuse her emotional power as long as it serves the purpose of Juri remaining close to her. What they would have needed is the chance to know that actually they're safe to be honest, at least to each other.

Utena is deeply grief-stricken by her parent's death. As a child the idea that everything will fade is terrifying. The only alternative she is shown is that Anthy's suffering is eternal. She wants to help. But the only path for being admired and adored is becoming a prince. The only agency to help and save others is by exercising the prince's power over someone. Akio becomes even crueler by trying to convince Utena that a girl's actual aspiration is romance (with a man). What else should she want? It also distract her from her genuine compassion for Anthy, and wishing for Anthy's happiness.

#Revolutionary Girl Utena #Idk I have a cold therefore to much time in the RGU tag

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wolfythewitch · 1 year

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Back on my Eat Your Young bullshit

Anyways so Eat Your Young itself I think is very trojan war core. And I know I've been vehemently against trying to fit the entire trojan war into a single show adaption but guess who thinks it'll work with a three minute song? ME, because I'm a hypocrite. it'll make no sense to anyone who doesn't know the story but that's okay it has cool shots and murder to the beat. "I wanna smell the dinner cooking. I wanna feel the edges start to burn." Cassandra looking up at Helen and knowing. The quiet part at the end is the actual fall of Troy. It'll probably be focused more on the Greek side. I reaaaaally want Achilles to sing "It's a kindness, highness." Iphegenia's sacrifice at "skinning your children for the war drum." That one vocalization part is just lots of murder I won't lie. Good for them. The second vocalization is more murder and also HORSE

All Things End I want to animate to Hector and Andromache specifically because I'm a wuss and they make me sad. I need him to kiss her belly when she's pregnant at "We begin again." I need him to slowly and somberly put on his armor at the second to the last chorus. I need him to fight Achilles to the death when the choir kicks in, alternating between his duel on the ground and his family's horrified reaction up on the walls. I need his eyes to slip shut when the final line echoes.

THROUGH ME THE FLOOD. THE ODYSSEY. FROTHS AT THE MOUTH. anyways I want to open on Ogygia. As you do. As you do. Need him to try to swim away and get washed back ashore. Need him to stand in his raft alone on the sea, small in the vast size of it to the line "I couldn't measure it." "Try measure loss, measure the silence of the house." PENELOPEEEEE. "With each grave, I think of loss and I could only think of you. I couldn't measure it." That. That scene. When she finally picks up his bow and weeps. "That the world, it burns through me." The arrow shot, the suitors' death. "That the world, it flows through me." Tree bed tree bed tree bed. Embrace. Kiss. Reunite again. Oh my god I'm going to explode

#I've thought about it too much #and i won't be able to do it because im not good enough #but until then #until then #you will suffer with me #imagine this with me #imagine #shakes you vigorously

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evil-doppelganger-duel · 1 year

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Round 1 - Day 1

#doppelganger duel #polls #round 1 #alternate norma #alternate barney #dead end paranormal park

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yanderederee · 29 days

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OnStage

ෆ Kuran Yotsurugi x reader ෆ

a/n: replacing y/n with yan/yannchan; I think it’s a cute alternative ~ please love kuran with me with this idea I’ve had in mind to write since day ONE♡

I was told reader has the same energy as Maxine from X(2022) … do with that as you will lol

part 2 in progress (?)~

✦ •·································•✦ʚ♡ɞ✦•··································• ✦

Blinking a few times to properly adjust the contact lenses you’d just put in, you watched the blurry vision of yourself in the mirror slowly turn into a clear image. Beautifully dolled up with lash extensions and not a strand of hair out of place. You’d had to admit, you looked immaculate.

Adjusting the last final touches of your lip liner and the thin straps of your outfit, you gave the duel image of yourself a wink and a mocking kiss before skipping toward the exit of the dressing room.

It was difficult to recall exactly how long you’d been working under the Yotsurugi, but due to your late father leaving behind such a massive debt, it fell to you to pay off the rest.

It wasn’t as heartbreaking as it sounded; adulthood wasn’t exactly as glamorous as you had imagined it would be, after graduating school. Finding work was hard— hard enough that even your own father with an already established career had to even lean upon the Yotsurugi family for financial support to help get by.

When he’d finally kicked the bucket, an accident that was surely his fault anyway, loan sharks from Ikebukuro became adamant on receiving their fair compensation. Obviously having nothing else to give them, you meekly offered to pay the debt off fairly, with good-old-fashion labor.

Luckily, the boss of the Yotsurugi’s Ikebukuro branch had been lurking behind, in case there had been any fall out. Having taken a good long look at you, he agreed to your offer with a weak wave to follow them.

It became clear you weren’t the only one who had been caught in this type of situation. While it was obvious the Yotsurugi were a big deal in the crime syndicate, they were evidently merciful. You heard from a few other girls working along side you that Kongo Yotsurugi had advocating for fair debt repayment with no interest. You were lucky it was them, and not some other shady loan-sharks who would kill you to settle the score.

And just as mercifully, you’d been offered a few different occupational options on how you could work yourself to freedom; dishwashing, waitressing, stage cleaner… but nothing payed quite as good as stripping.

It was your own choice to take the job. And even though you knew in the back of your mind it wasn’t really your choice, you were happy.

There was a joy; a rush of excitement and endorphins that made you absolutely shine on stage. The roaring cheers, the glittering lights and dancing rain of money every night truly made you feel alive.

You weren’t sure how much longer it would take to pay off your debt, but you couldn’t help wishing it would never end.

Having lost yourself in the pleasure of dancing once again, your chest heaved with deep breaths, heart beating a million times per minute. You smiled so wide, giggling to yourself when finally meeting eyes with some of your regular visitors. They were so happy to see you. And the feeling made you soar.

Waving a cutesy goodbye and a final shake of your ass to the roaring crowd, you skipped back behind the stage and accepted the water handed to you by another girl.

“You were amazing again today yanchan ~”

“I know right, she’s like a fairy with the way she spins around the pole! I’m so jealous~” another girl squealed, hugging you tightly and spinning you around.

“Aww thanks babes! Good luck out there Aya!”

You kissed the girl on her cheek before sending her off.

Over the course of your stay, you had made many close friends with the girls you worked with. Some came and went, but you always got along well with them all, and all the new girls came to view you as a big sister of sorts.

No matter how you got into this line of work, or how disgusting others may call you and your friends, you were living a life where you were finally happy. You felt fulfilled in the work you did, the people you worked with, the bed you slept in, and the food you ate. You never wanted for anything more.

Life was actually good.

Robing yourself in a cute short skirt and a puffy jacket, you came out to the VIP floor to order a quick drink before your next dance.

“Leeeeo~ drink pleeasse!~” you sang upon your arrival. The bar keeper looked your way, your cute display earning you a side smirk and a chuckle. “Even’in Yan. Good show just now, looking as brilliant as ever.” He complimented before picking through the liquor in front of him to conquer up your favorite weekday drink.

“I’d say,” added in a chuckling older gentleman sitting just a few seats over from where you sat. “Haven’t gotten this worked up by a dance like that before.”

You smiled at his sideways compliment, and lifted your newly gifted glass to the man. “Im happy you enjoyed it sir~ I hope to see you for my next dance.” You winked, and began scooting off the stool. Before your feet met the ground, the man had successfully grabbed your hand to stop you.

“Don’t bother, I know what you’ve got girl. And I like it. I’ll be sure to compensate you for all the money you’ll lose out on by skipping your next stage show. Come dance for me in a private room, won’t ya?” He looked down at you with a suggestive gaze. It wasn’t like he was bad looking, older men had their charm, especially the ones who frequented this night club.

But you weren’t interested in private dances. The glory of the job was the high you got from being on stage, not the money you got from it.

You smiled politely, confidently snaking your hand to play with his fingers, before sliding them out of his grasp. “Thanks for the offer baby, but I’m booked~ throw me a band on stage and I might indulge you in a drink and conversation once I’m done, ‘kay?~”

The gentleman narrowed his eyes, and toed down the stool, grabbing onto your forearm this time. “Not interested in seeing the same thing over and over again. Only way you’re getting my money is in a private room, catch me girly?” He grew closer, despite your trying to pull away. “I got lots of it. Enough to buy you out, if you please me well. Promise.~” he slurred in your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

Behind the bar, your bartender had already pressed the bouncer alert, acting cool. Clubs like these had rules—strict ones, after all.

You glared at the persistent man, loosing your gleeful attitude. “Not interested. I recommend taking that hand off me, ‘nless you wanna lose it, baby.” You spat sweetly back in his ear. The closeness sent shivers down his spine, but not with fear. He smirked at the excitement, thinking it was some kind of game. “I’ll take my chances.”

He tried pulling you with him, but before he has the chance to move a foot, a man with white hair and vibrant tattoos blocked the way. You immediately felt safe, heart pounding at the sight of your boss; Kuran Yotsurugi.

“Kuran!~” you sang happily, yanking yourself free from the older man, and hopped to hide behind your shirtless boss. “Sir didn’t wanna take no for an answer~” you pouted, but seemingly unphased, otherwise.

“And what was he asking?” He asked in monotone. “Wanted a ‘private dance’. Was giving me fuck-me eyes too… Made me feel grosss.” You answered, watching as the expression of the older man sink into fear.

“It wasn’t like that! She’s lying!” He groaned, trying to play it off as a misunderstanding. “Dancers these days are so full of themselv—-“ he began to ramble, before Kuran landed a solid right hook to the guest’s jaw. “Fact of the matter is you made one of my girls uncomfortable. That’s reason enough for me to kick you out.” Kuran squatted down to meet the man eye to eye.

“My girl said she said no, so the answer’s no. Simple. Understand?” He asked slowly, coming in close to make sure he was heard.

The man gulped, holding his face before nodding hurriedly. “I’ll be more careful in the future.” He accepted.

Kuran nodded back, and slapped the man on the back of the head before standing up. “You’re out. Don’t come back for a week. Make sure you learn your lesson, ‘n maybe then I’ll let you back in.”

Once all was said and gone, you giggled, clinging onto Karan’s arm. “Boss always comes to save the day~” you acknowledged, nuzzling your cheek against his shoulder before he sighs. He patted your head roughly, and pushed you off with barely any force. “Just maintaining the order ‘round here. Would’a done it for any of the other girls too.” He huffed. You nodded, perching into a bar stool again.

“I know~ that’s what makes me love my boss sooo much after all. He’s always so considerate and protective of us~ A hero, a man among men!” You rambled in praise, making a few of the other girls who came upon witnessing the scuffle giggle. “We all appreciate your hard work in keeping this club a safe place for us to work.” You sealed your long winded praise, and finished off the drink you ordered just minutes ago.

The other girls began to fawn in a similar fashion, thanking Kuran for his ruthless display of protection.

He clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes at your rallied attention, and began walking away. “Shut up and get back to work.”

Despite his standoffish demeanor, you and everyone else knew just how good of a guy Kuran was, and aimed to please him however you could.

Your smile softened as you watched him walk off, yearning for the chance to truly express your gratitude, or the developing feelings of love you’d felt for him ever since he gave you this beautiful new life.

Blowing a kiss to him behind his back, you hopped off the stool, and skipped back behind stage to ready yourself for the final dance of the night.

#I couldn’t wait any longer #I had to post this now #negai no astro #negai no astro x reader #astro royale #astro royale x reader #Yotsurugi kuran #kuran yotsurugi #kuran #yotsurugi #yotsurugi x reader #kuran x reader #kuran Yotsurugi x reader

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