#I pick the lore I like and trash the other

[turtletaubwrites]

Misty Eyes ~ Part 3

THIS FIC CONTAINS DARK CONTENT. 18+ ONLY. MDNI. *This part contains two Doffy flashbacks with a graphic depiction of violence including blood, murder of an unnamed character, and the reader being sick, as well as implied sexual encounters. Doffy flashback sections are marked between these symbols ~🦩🦩🦩~ so you can skip past them if you'd like. The chapter begins with one of these graphic memories, but ends with some Hurt/Comfort & sweet fluff!

Pairings: Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader, Doflamingo x Fem!Reader (Past & Flashbacks)

Word Count: 5768

Misty Eyes Masterlist

Ao3 Link

Summary: You try to acclimate to life aboard this yellow submarine, but your past keeps tearing you apart. All that Doffy made you do feels like a stain on your soul, and you're afraid you'll never be clean.

Author's Note: This one gets really fucked up, but I hope the sweet ending makes up for it! 🖤 I have added the dead dove do not eat tag, so please heed the warnings, and do not read if they might be triggering for you.

Thank you so much @pinejayyfor this delicious request!!

Rating/Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Devil Fruit User Reader, Swearing, Eventual Smut, Angst, Pet Names, Degradation, Punishment, Emotional Abuse, DARK CONTENT, DUBCON, Grooming, Trauma, Past Sexual Abuse, Manipulation, Power Imbalance, Dubious Consent, Donquixote Doflamingo is His Own Warning, Bondage, Dissociation, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Kissing, Shame, Blood and Violence, Vomiting, Minor Character Death, (unnamed character), Sparring, Childhood Memories, Chaste Childhood Kiss, Teasing, Tickling, Yandere Donquixote Doflamingo, Hurt/Comfort, Other Additional Tags To Be Added

!!! SPOILERS !!! This story begins during the 2 year timeskip before the Punk Hazard Arc, and there will also be spoilers for the Dressrosa Arc for backstory lore

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

~🦩🦩🦩~

“Another simple mission too much for you, Y/N?”

Doffy ducked a bit as he sauntered into the room, his voice making your enemy freeze with her sea prism stone blade to your throat.

“Young mast–”

Your target smirked at you, pressing the tip of the blade into your flesh, just enough to cut your words. 

“Are you good and scared,” she taunted, ignoring the powerful man at her back.

Is she fucking stupid? She has to know who he is.

Doffy grinned as he moved closer, until you saw yourself reflected in his sunglasses over your enemy’s head. Neither of the menacing figures before you moved or spoke for a moment, leaving your mind in chaos. 

I failed him again. He’s not helping me. Why would he? I’m worthless. 

The woman chuckled, showing no fear as the future king of the pirates towered over her. Until his large hand fisted her hair, lifting her until her toes barely touched the ground. A shocked cry left her lips, her satisfied smirk torn away as she struggled to free herself.

“You really can’t do anything on your own, can you?”

Humiliation poured over you, making you wish that the blade had cut you deeper. The prick of blood on your throat wasn’t nearly enough to drown your shame. 

The woman laughed, even as she struggled in Doffy’s grasp. She choked on that laughter as the blade in her hand flew toward her own neck, tugged by invisible strings. 

“Wait, you said–”

Those frantic eyes had tried to look toward the young master, but her words ended as a flood of red left her throat. Doffy laughed, watching your wide eyes while the woman thrashed. The blade clattered to the floor as a rain of bright, hot blood fell upon it. He took a step toward you, letting all that cherry red cascade down your chest as you stared into the woman’s dying eyes.

She reached for you, dragging her nails across your throat.

“You’re really gonna let this trash disrespect our family? Disrespect me,” Doffy questioned, as bile rose in your throat.

“N-No, I’m sorry young–”

“Finish it. Pick up the knife, and gut her.”

The woman was still struggling, still fighting, but you knew it wouldn’t be long. 

I have to prove myself. 

You couldn’t move. 

“Do it, Y/N,” Doffy threatened, his voice low as he shoved her closer. That hot blood poured over your face as he lifted her higher. 

You fell to your knees, somehow finding the blade through the red that had covered your eyes, spitting it out of your mouth as you used the wall to stand back up. 

“There you go. Prove you can do something right, Y/N.”

Blinking through the blood, you held the blade to the woman’s stomach, throwing up before you could pierce her flesh. 

Doffy dropped that lightly twitching body as you started to retch, stepping back to watch you cover your enemy in your own pathetic disgrace. 

Choking on sobs as your stomach emptied over the nearly dead form, you tried to wipe and hide your face. There was no way to hide from Doffy, his manic grin looming near as he crouched beside you. 

“Such a pathetic sight. To think that a member of my family could fail me like this,” he tutted, ripping your heart to shreds. 

“I’m so sorry, young master, I–”

Your fingers slipped in the blood and sick on the floor as you tried to push yourself up, until your body moved on its own. 

No. Not on its own. 

Doffy moved it, his fingers extending as he controlled you. A disgusting marionette, dripping with the evidence of shame. 

“So disappointing.”

The young master’s voice weighed you down, even as he held your body up. He directed your movements, forcing you to walk as though you were proud of the sticky failure on your skin. 

I’m nothing. I don’t deserve to live. I don’t deserve his love. 

~🦩🦩🦩~

“Y/N, hey, you’re okay–” 

“I couldn’t do it, I’m too weak. I’m so sorry, young–”

Nausea tore through you, the fight to keep from being sick bringing you into the present. Into the mist. Law’s soothing voice was too full of concern, and you hated taking down your camouflage. Hated letting him see how weak you were. 

“Y/N, can I check your–”

Law’s fingers were on you as soon as you nodded, slipping along the cold sweat that coated your skin as he checked your temperature and pulse. 

“I’m fine,” you lied, your voice hoarse as if you had been sick. 

His hands guided your trembling body as you sat up, your eyes caught on your own misty fingers. 

Pathetic. 

“Do you… wanna talk about it?”

A sharp laugh escaped you, flooding you with guilt. An apology died in your throat as you rubbed your hands over your arms, sliding through that layer of sweat. 

“Can I take a shower?”

~

The “Surgeon of Death” waited outside the bathroom for you. You thought he was trying to help you feel safe by not letting anyone else in, until you remembered the concern, the pity on his face. 

He’s making sure I don’t hurt myself. 

You couldn’t meet his eyes as he tried to speak to you on the way to the galley, but a tiny smile broke through your heavy shame from Law’s poor attempt at small talk. 

“Good morning, Y/N!” Penguin’s voice was too loud as he leaned close to grab breakfast at the counter. The stuffed penguin on his hat bobbed toward you while he spoke.

“Morning,” you greeted, with far less enthusiasm, only to be met with a small orchestra of cheerful voices calling to you, and their captain. 

“Hope you didn’t mind the captain on your floor last night. He used to snore like a–”

“Penguin,” Law commanded, voice low as he gripped his crew mate’s wrist. 

The man's friendly clap on your back had made your shoulders tense up, your jaw clenching as Doffy’s voice boomed through your mind. 

‘Only I’m allowed to touch my little doll,’ Doffy rasped, pinching your thighs almost too hard as you sat in his lap. You tried not to stare at the blood spreading across the marble floor. ‘I don’t like to share.’

“Sure, sorry captain, sorry Y/N…” Penguin took a step back, dipping his head at Law’s frown.

“It’s okay,” you breathed, your lying smile forming so easily on your face before he led you to a table in the corner, away from his happy crew.

I’m like mist, sucking the joy and beauty out of a sunny place.

“Why don’t we skip the interview today,” Law suggested, tapping his pretty fingers on the table.

“But, don’t you nee–”

“I need you to be okay,” he interrupted, reaching those fingers to touch your wrist gently, barely, before pulling away. “Besides, I have something else in mind.”

~ 

Moving through the metal halls felt like a dream, like you’d get lost, and keep walking for years before you woke up. Until he spun the wheel to open a heavy door, leading you into the largest room you’d seen on this underwater ship.

“How nostalgic,” you teased, nodding your head toward the wall of weapons in what was clearly a training room. 

“It’s been a while since you kicked my ass,” he said with a laugh, and you chewed your lip to fight your cheesy smile. He moved down the wall, pulling two daggers free before facing you. “Catch.”

“Wait,” you cried out, ready to move or mist away, but your body acted on its own. You caught the blade he’d thrown your way, gripping it as you smiled to yourself.

“I see you haven’t lost your reflexes,” he hummed, facing off with you.

“What if I had,” you scolded, your free hand on your hip. 

“I knew it couldn’t hurt you. But your enemies might not,” he mused. “Why didn’t you strike? I gave you an opening.”

“What are you–” you laughed, shaking your head at him. “I’m not a fighter anymore. Besides, I don’t want to be mauled by a bear when your crew finds out I tried to attack you.”

His scowl was so sharp, you almost missed his movement. The second blade flew toward you, spinning clear with the ringing of metal as you blocked it with the first dagger.

“What the fuck, Law?”

He ignored you as he pulled a sword from the wall, striding your way with death in his eyes. Your body slid into a stance it hadn’t felt in years, and you gritted your teeth. Barely escaping Law’s attack, you used the dagger to deflect his blade as you rolled away.

“Why are–”

His sword came down over your head, and you misted out of reach, your breath heavy as anger and fear started to build. 

“Law! Why–”

“Why do you keep saying you’re weak?”

You froze, unable to move as he plunged his sword through your chest, meeting nothing but mist.

“What happened to the girl that could kick my ass? Until I’d get her back, of course,” he grinned, offering his hand to help you up. Still frozen, you watched him sigh, dropping the sword as he sat down beside you. 

“Why do you keep saying that you’re weak,” he repeated softly, his gaze stripping you to the bone.

“Because I am weak.”

The words held nothing but truth, a truth you’d long since accepted. 

“Don’t be stupid,” he reprimanded, the insult bringing your eyes to his with a bit of shock and annoyance.

“Is that my doctor’s orders,” you growled, anger showing through your mask for the first time in ages. Pulling your knees up to your chest, you dug your nails into your shins, the comfort of the mild pain helping you stay grounded.  

“Yes,” he deadpanned, your lips parting as you glared. He didn’t drop that judgemental look on his face, and it was too fucking much.

You hid the need to squirm by standing, picking up the weapons to hang back on the wall. The weight of a useless life pushed your shoulders down, until a tattooed hand touched yours, taking one of the daggers from you while you stared at the floor. 

“When we were kids, you were just as strong of a fighter as I was. I don’t understand how that could change, Y/N,” he recalled, voice soft as he touched your chin. His eyes searched yours, as if you were a puzzle he couldn’t solve. 

“I know you’re fierce. Pretty sure I’ve still got a few scars from you,” he laughed, that gentle sound making your eyes drift closed, a bittersweet smile on your lips. 

“I’m not fierce,” you confessed, shivering as your skin burned where his fingers still held your chin. “I couldn’t keep up. My powers are so... I kept failing, just like they said I would.”

“Don’t be an idiot.”

You almost gaped at him again, but his hand on your chin kept your jaw from dropping. Pulling away, you crossed your arms, that irritation growing. 

“Your bedside manner is shit, you know that?”

“We’re not in bed right now,” he countered, his confident voice cut short by his own awkward cough as he continued. “You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t. I’m not a fighter anymore, Law. I can help you with my memories, you don’t need to do all of this.” He ignored your movements as you gestured to the wall of weapons, falling back into that frown he’s so good at. 

“Get over it.”

“Excuse me?”

He thrust the handle of the dagger into your palm, leaning close. 

“Everyone has to pull their weight on this ship. You’re gonna shadow the crew until we find a job that suits you. You’re gonna sit with me for interviews. And you’re gonna train, just like everyone else,” he commanded, your breath catching as you felt the authority pouring off of him. His fingers were still wrapped around yours, pressing the handle of the blade into your skin.

“Do you under–”

Law grunted with more surprise than pain as your other fist connected with his face. He took a step back, scalding eyes raking over you while he rubbed his jaw, but you cut him off before he could speak. 

“Gotcha, with a capital ‘G,” you declared, moving your arms with the dagger to create a poor image of the letter ‘G.’

Everything else faded from your mind as Law started to laugh, holding himself up with his hands on his knees. You couldn’t help but join him, some good childhood memories finally filling the air between you. 

“Does he still do that,” he asked, still breathless as he fought the laughter.

“Lau G won’t stop doing that until he’s dead and gone.”

He leaned against the wall of weapons, shaking his head as he pulled up ancient memories.

“That old man trained both of us, Y/N. You were neck and neck with me, even though I’d never admit it back then.”

Your face grew hot, hopefully masked by the wheezing laughter you were still recovering from. But shame quickly followed the pride from his praise, so you turned away to stretch, avoiding his discerning eyes.

“Let’s start with hand to hand,” he ordered softly. You let him take the blade from you, meeting him on the mats in the center of the large, echoey room. Bouncing on your heels, you fought to keep yourself in the present. 

‘Can’t take care of a single mission. I’ve never had such a failure in my family before. What should I do with you?’

‘So misty, so flimsy! You’ll never be as strong as us. I bet the young master will throw you out soon.’

‘Why don’t you just focus on being pretty, dear. I heard the young master say that’s all you’re good for.’

“I won’t go easy on you," Law's threat broke through your foggy mind. He smirked, taunting you with a tilt to his head. “Kick my ass.”

Falling into a stance without a thought, you tried to be here, to be nothing but this. You couldn’t make the first move, getting annoyed as Law feinted, tapping you here or there until you finally fought back. 

There he was. That silly, angry boy with that wicked smirk. The smirk that you needed to kick off that pretty face. Two years of rivalry, two years of tiny, vicious preteens sparring daily, came flooding back as the sounds filled the training room. The sounds of fists and shins connecting with bodies, breaths and grunts, snarky remarks and laughter. 

It felt like no time had passed. 

Until you noticed that thought, and shame hit you just before Law tackled you, taking your breath as he rode your body to the ground. 

Coming back to yourself too late, he had you pinned, unable to work your arms or legs to get out of his grasp. 

“I know you can do better than that,” he teased, his black hair caught in the sweat on his forehead as he stared down at you. 

“Go fuck yourself,” you breathed, still winded with his weight on your body.

“With a capital ‘G,” he smirked, too much satisfaction on his face. He laughed as you squirmed harder, trying to free a hand to punch him with. 

Now you were satisfied, hearing him grunt as he struggled to keep you in place. You freed one arm, but before you could make contact, Law changed position. He caught your wrist, his breathing ragged as his face hovered even closer to yours. 

The air was different, shivers running through you as your bodies relaxed into each other. The struggle halted as you felt his breath on your lips. 

His eyes were wide as he took you in, his brows creasing just a bit. Your chest warmed at the memory of a childhood crush, and a quick peck of a kiss before he disappeared. That sweet memory fell apart when he pulled himself off of you, a slight frown on his lips before he turned away. 

Oh. 

“That’s, uh,” he started, walking away as he avoided your gaze, “that’s enough for today. Let’s get cleaned up, and I’ll get your schedule for tomorrow. Good work, today.”

You held up a polite smile as sharp blades of ice seemed to carve into your empty chest. Wanting Law to kiss you seemed ridiculous. Selfish. You hadn’t realized that your stupid, absent heart was so delusional. And now you knew exactly why you shouldn’t think about him that way. 

He’s disgusted by me. I’ll always be tainted. Ruined. I’m lucky he hasn’t put me out of my misery yet. Why would Law want to touch trash like me?

The thoughts crashed into you, and the moment wouldn’t stop replaying. The press of him, his amber eyes, the sweat and breath mixing between you. 

And that frown as he pulled away. 

It played on a loop as you walked through the submarine, repeating through another shower, a nearly silent lunch in the galley, and the tour. Law guided you with a hand drawn map, labeled with the various stations, and the crew members you’d be shadowing. A detailed weekly schedule filled the back of the paper, and you let out a quiet laugh at his attention to detail.

“Do you have any questions?”

“No, teacher,” you teased, breathing deep when he finally looked at you again. 

“It’s captain,” he corrected as he pointed to the schedule. “You’ll be with Ikkaku tomorrow morning, then if you’re up for it, I'd like to do another interview.”

“Aye aye, captain.”

Just a twitch of his lips this time, but it was a relief. Until he left you in the galley with the crew, excusing himself to complete some “captain’s duties.”

He doesn’t even want to eat with me now. I probably make him sick.

“Hi, Y/N, you can sit with me! You know, if you want to…” Bepo trailed off, flipping from excited to glum in seconds. 

“Thank you, Bepo,” you agreed, donning your cheerful voice as you sat across from him. 

“Hey, I’m sorry about earlier,” Penguin said as he sat beside you, still too close for comfort after years of Doffy’s rules. “The captain’s the only one that taught us any manners, but I guess I still need some practice.”

“It’s al–”

“Give her some space, you’re being a creep,” Shachi cut in, sitting across from Penguin as he pointed a fork his way. 

“I’m not a creep, you jerk–”

“The captain said to behave ourselves,” Bepo scolded, and you found a real smile on your lips as you saw the concern on his cute, furry face.

“Hey, you’re with me tomorrow, right?”

Ikkaku waved over the bear's shoulder, her dark brown curls making her instantly recognizable. You confirmed with a nod while the three boys at the table kept bickering. 

“Let’s go talk about it.”

Arguments and insults floated through the air, and you were grateful for the rescue as you joined the only other non-man on the ship. She smirked as she nodded her head toward her crew mates.

“Don’t mind the dumbasses, they’re harmless.”

“Thanks,” you laughed, your appetite returning as you watched Ikkaku take a large bite, rolling her eyes at Bepo’s table. 

Comfortable quiet sat with you, and you finally felt a moment of ease in your new world. Even with Law, you felt this energy of holding yourself up, of presenting yourself how you wanted him to see you. But this relaxed woman seemed friendly as she dug into her meal, without the pressure of a smile. She didn’t watch you, or force you into small talk, even when you followed her out of the galley to point out where you’d be working in the morning. 

“I’m ‘Weps,’ so I’ll be showing you how to spot and kill enemies. Hopefully we’ll always be bored,” she huffed, pointing vaguely toward her station before guiding you back to the barracks. 

“That’s you, right,” she asked, tapping on your door. “I’ll yell when it’s time to go.”

“Thank you,” you squeaked, staring for a moment as she turned away. 

That small metal room seemed to amplify your worst thoughts, your loneliness echoing through the air like some torturous bell. You wished you had some sort of drug to knock yourself out. Instead, you curled on your side, trying not to think about how Law had cared enough to sleep on your floor last night, but could barely look at you after your near touch earlier. 

~🦩🦩🦩~

“Don’t get all misty-eyed. That man should have known better than to touch my pretty doll,” Doffy declared, crouching down to press his palm into the sticky red puddle.

The blood of an unlucky man. A friendly man that tried to help you stay balanced while you walked down a flight of stairs in too-high heels. 

“No one else will ever touch you,” Doffy breathed, pressing his bloody palm to your chest. He licked his lips as he dragged his fingers higher, painting your skin. 

Doffy loves me. He’ll be King. Kings have to do this. They have to enforce their–

Your deep breaths and calming thoughts halted as his sticky hand gripped your face, digging into your cheeks to tilt your face up to his.

No more misty eyes.

You felt pride for your lack of tears, and for the smile he gave before he smoothed the hair from your face.

“You’re so pretty when you listen to me,” he praised, his grin deepening when he heard your pleased hum. “You know I’ll have to kill you too, right? You're my doll now. Letting someone touch you with their grubby fingers, and defile my toy sounds like another failure, huh, misty eyes?”

A soft noise escaped your lips as you struggled to be strong for him. 

“Well,” he seethed, the veins in his forehead bulging as he shook your face in his bloody grip, “does my pretty doll have anything to say?”

“I-I’m yours, Doffy,” you promised, keeping your eyes dry as your body went loose, leaning into his hold. 

“My body belongs to you, young mast– Doffy. I’d rather die than let someone defile your property.”

A bruising kiss took your breath, and you whined for him as he laid you on the marble floor. That spill of red beside you had finally stopped flowing. 

“Don’t forget that, Y/N. I’m the only one that gets to defile my pretty doll. My disgusting, little toy. No one would want to touch you anyway. Not if they knew what you let me do to you.”

Doffy laughed as he proved it to you.

And you kept your eyes dry.

~🦩🦩🦩~

Last night, your mind had chosen memories over dreams. The lights and sounds of the sonar were lovely, yet too soothing, and Ikkaku caught you shaking yourself as you held in a yawn. 

“Come on,” she ordered as she pushed you out of the weapons room, leading you through the halls. You pressed your fingers into your brow, trying to alleviate some of the pressure, not realizing where she was taking you until she called through a familiar door.

“Captain, I need to report a crew member who’s unfit for duty.”

“Wait, what,” you cried out, cutting off your own yawn as she rolled her eyes at you. 

Law opened the door, his eyes narrowing on you before he looked at her.

“What’s your report?”

“Y/N was doing well with sonar, but she's clearly sleep deprived. There's no yawning at my weapons station, Captain.”

Ikkaku softened her report by flashing you a tiny smile, but your shoulders slumped in embarrassment. 

“Thank you for the report,” Law cleared his throat, avoiding your eyes as he focused on her. “We’ll try again tomorrow. You’re dismissed, Ikkaku.”

She patted your back as she passed, her gesture of comfort lost as your body tensed at the touch. 

With a shaky breath, you turned to him, staring at his tattooed arms that flexed as they crossed below his chest. 

I didn’t mind when he touched me.

That thought was bittersweet, the bitter turning to bile when you remembered him pulling away. 

“Come in,” he gestured into the office, and you stepped back into your memories. A shrine to Doffy, even if it was built of hate. 

“How much sleep did you get last night,” he spoke like a doctor, scrutinizing every movement as you sat down across his desk. 

“How would I know? There’s no clock in there.”

Somehow, his frown deepened, and you let out a heavy sigh. 

“Did you sleep at all?”

The touch of warmth in his voice filled the cold room, but you didn’t want it. You couldn’t truly have it. So you let the truth ring through your mind as you lied again.

All I am is the broken toy of the man he despises. 

“I’m sorry. I’ll be okay.”

Your eyes slid away, seeing nothing as you pretended to be fine. Yet, you blinked slowly when he stood, his chair scraping along the floor before he came to kneel beside you.

Time seemed fuzzy, but after a while you heard his voice, low and steady. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

Too tired and stuck for anything except for the faint quivering of your bottom lip, you stayed silent. 

“Is it…” he cleared his throat, flexing his hands before he went on. “Is it alright if I hug you?”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he tried to cover his worry in a soothing tone as tears and small choked sounds left your throat. “We don’t need to–”

“Please.”

That tiny, pathetic word left your lips, and you felt sick for asking for anything. Sick for forcing him to take care of you. 

But you didn’t fight as he pulled the chair out, as he knelt to the side of your knees, as he touched long fingers to your cheek. 

“Is it alright if I hug you,” he asked again in a whisper. You were too weak to protect him from you, nodding slowly until you felt more of his touch. 

He pulled you gently forward, your arms limp as he wrapped his around your waist, letting your head rest on his shoulder. 

“You’re okay,” he soothed, sliding a palm between your shoulder blades. “You’re gonna be okay.”

Denials and arguments struggled to leave your lips, anger and fear fighting for control. 

But you were so tired. 

And Law felt so warm, so solid, his smell familiar, yet new. He squeezed you tighter as your breath sped up, holding you still, until you held him too.

He didn’t let go as you dripped hot tears onto his neck. He didn’t let go when you clung to him, digging your fingers into his arms and shoulders. He didn’t let go as your cries flipped from silent to pleading, as you begged for his forgiveness, or choked over the fears and shame you carried. 

Through every round of emotions, you would return to guilt and disgust.

“I’m sorry, Law, I’m sick. You shouldn't be... I’m sorry you have to touch me.”

“Why are you saying that,” he nearly growled, holding your head against him to keep you from leaving his grasp. 

You had no idea how long you’d made him care for you, how many tears you’d let stain his shirt. But however long it had been, you were finally able to speak some of it clearly. 

“You hate him,” you said, your feeble voice breaking between your haggard breaths, “and I’m his… I’m broken. I’m disgust–”

“Shut up.”

A surprised yelp stopped your words, the force of his grip catching your breath. 

Law’s fingers dug into your skin as he pressed you against him, almost to the point of pain, and your mind froze as you waited for him. 

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” he declared, forcing the words through his teeth. “I don’t give a shit about what he did to you. I don’t care what he made you do. It wasn’t your fault, you hear me?”

There was anger in his words, but you knew it wasn’t for you. Still, you were stunned, feeling his heavy breaths beating against your chest. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he breathed, his voice cracking as he buried his face into your neck before pulling away. It was almost painful losing his warmth against you, but he took your hands in his. He seemed to be having more trouble meeting eyes than you were, and you started sinking into the chair while he cleared his throat a few times. 

“When I found out that you’d… That he’d… I should have saved you, Y/N. But I decided not to care about you so I could focus on my mission. I let him–”

“Stop,” you cried out, shaking your head against the guilt in his voice. “I wouldn’t have come with you before. I don’t even know when things started to change. But I would have betrayed you. I wanted to be… I’m glad you didn’t find me sooner, Law. I just wish–”

You cut yourself off, melting into his golden eyes. A stolen moment of peace amidst the guilt and pain. 

“What do you wish,” he asked, rubbing his thumbs over the back of your hands.

“... I don't think broken people get wishes.”

He gave a jaded laugh before standing, leaning against the desk while he rubbed his knees. 

“Will it help you sleep if I stay on your floor tonight?”

You smirked at his soft words, looking from his knees up to his face before responding. 

“I don’t know, old man. I don’t think it’ll be good for your joints.” The look on his face was perfect, and a real laugh left your raw throat, shaking your tired body. 

“We’re the same age,” he countered, eyes wide with that manic grin, “and disrespecting your captain is a punishable offense.”

“I see how it is,” you teased, lightly poking his side. “Still can’t come up with a good comeback, so you threaten me with violence? Looks like you haven’t changed a bit, you– Law!”

He’d grabbed your wrist before going to his knees again, those pretty fingers searching your ribs for the perfect spot. You writhed and laughed, and failed to fight him off as he tickled you, the way he used to when he couldn’t outsmart you. 

“Law, you–”

“Fuck, sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

Law pressed himself against the desk, still on his knees with his hands held up, his eyes wide and worried as he looked at you. 

You cracked up, true, heavy laughter, until his lips curled into that evil little smirk. But you beat him to it, sliding to the ground to get him back, tickling and getting a good squirm out of him before you both attacked. 

He growled as he laughed, grappling you to the side of the chair until he had you pinned to the ground again. Neither of you could tickle the other as you fought for control or freedom. His cheeks were flushed as he laughed in your face, giving you a snarky, “nuh uh,” when you failed to break loose. 

His tongue pressed between his teeth as he gloated, that cocky grin fading as you melted into each other again. 

“I–I’m sorry,” he sighed, shifting his weight to leave. 

“Don’t be sorry,” you demanded, breathless, and aching for him to stay. “I want…”

You closed your eyes, guilt and shame sliding into your lungs again. 

His weight shifted, settling back where he was before. You bit your lip when you saw him staring at your mouth, and heat filled your body as you became hyper aware of every detail of his gorgeous face. 

“You want,” he rasped as he met your eyes, concern still pouring from his own.

Your words were choked by all those shitty feelings and doubts. 

“It’s okay, Y/N.”

His gentle voice eased the tension in your body, and you were grateful that he hadn’t moved. That he still touched you. 

He was still touching you even though you were broken.  

“I want you to kiss me.” 

~🖤🖤🖤~

You’d ordered the stupid boy to kiss you, your arms crossed as you tried to act like you didn’t care. He’d lost the bet, and had to do whatever you asked. 

“Ew, gross! I’m not doing that.”

Law stuck his tongue out, pretending to be sick.

“You lost the bet,” you scolded, punching his shoulder. “Want me to tell everyone you’re an oathbreaker?”

“Why do you wanna kiss me anyway? I’m sick,” he questioned, a hint of hurt in his voice as he gestured to the pale spots on his face. 

“I don’t care if you’re sick. I like you how you are.” The confession slipped out, and heat rushed to your face as you clamped your hands over your mouth.

“You like me,” he taunted, smirking as he poked your burning cheek. “Ha, you’re such a girl.”

“Am not,” you yelled, your hands going misty with embarrassment. 

“So, all I gotta do is kiss you, and we’ll be square?”

You nodded quickly, not sure if you should trust him. 

“Fine,” he complained, leaning in. 

You didn’t know what the big deal was about kissing. His lips were cold and scratchy when he pressed them against yours for a few seconds, then he scowled at you as he pulled away. 

“That was dumb,” he deadpanned, poking your side. 

“You’re dumb!”

He stuck his tongue out at you, and you chased Law down until he swore to never tell a soul. 

~🖤🖤🖤~

“Ew, gross,” Law grinned, your mouth falling open in shock. 

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he teased, moving his smug face closer to yours. “Kissing you sounds gross.”

“You fucking ass,” you seethed, struggling to get out of his grapple so you could punch him. “I can’t believe–”

He let out a needy sound as he crashed his lips onto yours, and you moaned against him. Your back arched when he released his hold on your arms to cradle your face. 

A sob of relief escaped you, and you felt like you’d lost your mind, your hands clawing at his back to pull him closer. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he breathed, pressing his forehead against yours. “I should–”

“No more ‘sorry's,” you ordered, “I just want you to kiss me.”

Law chuckled, his voice coming back in a wicked rasp. 

“Ew, gross.”

Likes, comments, and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: Sorry about the gruesome, but I hope you enjoyed the wholesome Law with his childhood sweetheart. I adore this man 🥰

Note for the timeline: The childhood flashback occurred shortly before Cora took Law away, so both the reader and Law had known each other over 2 years, and were both between 12-13 yrs old. At the present time in the story, both the reader and Law are around 25 years old.

Tag List: @shewrites02 | @jadeddangel | @nothing-but-brass

Part 4

Operation Olive Branch has compiled a working spreadsheet of ways to help families fleeing from the genocide in Palestine. If you enjoyed this fic, and are able, please click the link to find a list of GoFundMe's, as well as other ways to help.

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#fic requests #trafalgar d law x reader #doflamingo x reader #eventual smut #one piece smut #reader insert #fem!reader #smut #x reader #turtletaub fics #one piece x reader #use of y/n #trafalgar law fanfiction #trafalgar law smut #one piece angst #cw dark content #cw grooming #cw dubcon #cw toxic relationship #cw emotional abuse #angst #cw blood #cw violence #cw vomit #cw yandere #dead dove do not eat #cw murder

[bamsara]

#49. “Is somebody jealous?” If you feel like it 🤙

Sun-Centric, Moon at the end. | Wordcount: 1,763 | A03 Version

Romantic-leaning.

Taking advantage of the fact that my Sun cannot lie, so he either deflects or avoids the question, while Moon is more blunt. Takes place in ARC 2 (Moon reinstated as DCA, restrictions taken off Sun)

(Also, consider this a draft crumb for a future chapter of Solar Lunacy, so, spoilers. You may see a similar scene in the actual fic later.)

He's the father of one of the children; the boy who's got a obsession with Monty, even shares the same hairstyle and sunglasses as the animatronic, although his parent is a bit duller as you'd expect: Confident guy, cleaned up and usually wearing dull sweaters with dark hair. Used to wear glasses but just wears contacts anymore, and he's got a arm tattoo of a skeleton riding a motocycle under his sleeves hidden by the clothing so it's not an issue at his job.

You don't learn this things of free will, by the way. The guy just really likes to talk to you past departure time whenever you're the one checking the kids out at the door. He's a rabbler, that one, and it goes quickly from a refreshing casual conversation to a realization that he was staying at touch over his welcome.

Sun usually comes to your rescure, in the oddest of ways, sometimes.

Sometimes he'll come up behind you, shoo you off to go collect some other child for another parent while he 'verifies' the parent's identity (which you know is bollocks, since the father picks up the same boy every day he's dropped off and the little troublemaker never had an issue recognizing the guy)

Other times he'll yell something about children knocking over a tower, or throwing ballpit toys or pool noodles, and despite knowning damn well he can handle them well enough, you'll excuse yourself to go take care of the scene without coming off as rude to the customer.

Really, you don't want to come off rude to a Pizzaplex guest. You're not exactly sure where you're job stands as it is. You're not going to take any risks of a complaint.

It takes a little bit longer this time. A child is currently sobbing over a skinned knee they got from rough housing in the pizzaplex while you're at the doors checking out the troublemaker and the twins to their respective parents. The mothers of the twins collect their boys, bid you a good day and leave well enough. The father of the troublemaker, as usual, lingers even after his name is marked off the list.

"Gettin' pretty cold out, aint it?" He says, pulling a small phone out of his pocket and handing it to the boy. His son takes it, and is busy with a mobile game quicker than you can blink. "Not gonna be much longer until Christmas."

You smile. Sun is busy comforting the child in the back end of the Daycare, so you'll have to navigate this conversation on your own. "Yep. Look's like we'll be as busy as ever."

It's carefully chosen words, and you watch the reaction in his face as you say them. It seems to be the correct choice, because something in his face steels. "Yeah, yeah. Say, you got any hobbies outside of this place?"

A casual, nonformal shrug. "I spend most of my time here, actaully."

"Oh, I gotcha." He chuckles. "Getting tired of hanging around robots yet?"

"Not really." Still smiling, gotta keep up apperances. "They're actaully great friends of mine."

Something shifts in the man's expression. Not in the way that makes you think he'd suddenly think less of you to like hanging around robots, but like he's just unlocked some sort of secret backstory lore for his favorite character in a video game, and you're the npc. "Oh, really? That's pretty cool of you. You know, I work with a couple robots myself. Over at the office." He talks like he's bragging you have something in common. "Takes out the trash and gets the coffee. Like interns, but you don't have to pay em."

Your smile stretches a bit thin. "They do good work. My friend Sun might need my help in a moment."

It's a light excuse, one that doesn't seem likes it's going to work because you don't hear a child crying anymore, and Sun isn't anywhere to be seen from a glance around the Daycare. The father interjects again. "Oh, yeah. Lanky guy, isn't he?"

"He's probably getting things ready for naptime." You turn to step away from the door. "I should go get the blankets-"

Your step away seems to activate something in him. "Oh, wait! Before you're busy. Didn't mean wanna impose, but would you-?"

A flash of yellow, reds and oranges comes into your vision rather quickly in the corner of your eye, and Sun is there (thank god) with a toddler curled up in his arms. She's already sleeping, and he's careful the beads in her hair don't press inbetween where her head rests against his chassis, and talks in a whisper-yell. "Heelllooooooo, there!"

The father looks a bit startled to seem him for a second before his composure returns, and you try not to look visably relieved. "Everything under control?"

"You betcha!" Sun manages to be loud and quiet at the same time, a feat only he can achieve, and turns to the father and his son standing in the doorway. "I'm sorry, but the Daycare will have it's naptime soon, so we'll be turning off the lights and trying to keep to our inside voices." He talks calm, assertive. "Is there anything else I can help you with before you go?"

This seems to work, the father blows air through his nose in semblance of a sigh, and shrugs. "Ah, nah. We've got it here." He turns to you to say the goodbye, though. "See you around."

You and Sun speak in unison as the pair leaves. "Have a Faztastic day!"

The door shuts behind the man and his son, and you feel the tension leave from your shoulders. Children are already getting into their mats and blankets on their own (save for two that are trying to fit into one sleeping bag so they can nap together, but you don't break them up or else they have nightmares) and you don't see much else for you to do other than to turn the lights off.

Sun holds the sleeping toddler in one arm, a hand coming up to gently cover her ears with the other. "Bit of a talker, that one."

"It's not like he's doing anything wrong." You shrug, setting your clipboard on the security desk. "Just chooses the worst time. I mean, like, c'mon. I'm at work here. I can't chat with people at the door."

"Would you prefer outside the Pizzaplex?" The animatronic asks. He doesn't look as nervous when you approuch the light switch anymore. Well, usually. "I'm sure he'd like that."

You don't reach for the light switch yet; doing so mid conversation would be rude, but you still raise a brow. "Sounding a little suspisious there, Sunny."

"Suspisious." He repeats, scoffing. "His intentions are plain as day! And I'm the day! Look at me! I'm telling you. Right now."

It's playful behavior, and the way he sounds when it's flared up is a little funny, so you cross your arms and lean against the wall next to the light switch. "Okay? What if I like the attention?"

Sun's smile thins. "Oh, we doubt that."

"But what if you're wrong? Would it be so bad?" You're teasing him, obviously, that much is clear. You can tell by the look on your friend's face that he's two seconds away from rolling his eyes (or maybe he is already, and you just can't see the pupils) but you're allowed to poke at the Daycare Attendant every now and then. "Maybe we'll never know because you keep chasing him off."

"I would gasp right now, dramatic and awful, but the childern are trying to sleep." Sun sounds incredbably deadpan. "And I'm not going to entertain your theatrics-"

"My theatrics?" You give a short laugh. "The last time he was doing this, you pretended to fall and break a leg so I could excuse myself to 'repair' you."

Sun holds up one finger to you. "And yet you still came running!"

"...Boo."

"There will be no 'booing' in the daycare-"

"Oh, boo. You just don't want me to get a date cause you'd miss me." You snort.

Sun looks like he's about to say something, then goes quiet, face static. You grin. The girl he's holding hasn't stirred yet, but knowning him, he's probably holding back for her sake to defend himself. He only does so after a moment. "Teasing and bullying is not allowed in the Daycare either, or do you think you're always excluded from rules?"

"So you would!" You laugh, and cover your mouth with your hand so it doesn't make so much noise. "And please, you let me get away with so much-"

Sun looks esasperated. "Against our will."

"What are you, jealous?" You continue, and miss the visible stillness that takes over the animatronic when you talk. White pupils deadpan at you and you snicker. "What? Nothing to say? Is somebody jealous?"

You chuckle as the Daycare Attendant stares at you, smiling but silient. It's fun to tease him, but it's about time you let him get back to work before you waste time, and you reach for the light switch, still leaning back agaist the wall. "Alright, alright. I'm done. Let's get-"

A hand reaches out over yours, pressing it against the light switching flipping it off as your fingers are locked underneath it's own. You pause, gaze dropping from the lightswitch and traveling back in front of you towards the animatronic as the lights in the Daycare go out.

The switch happens differently each time, but better times like this, it's a blink, and the Daycare Attendant went a far cry from hiding away each time to this; unwaving eyecontact, leaning int a little too close for comfort as colors change and the pressure on your hand feels a touch sharper.

"Yes." Moon says, deadpan.

You blink. "Uh."

"Blankets." His hand drops from the light switch, from your hand, and adjusts his grip on the still sleeping toddler in his other arm.

The small-talk of an animatronic leans away from you, and casually, turns the opposite direction towards the children who were either half-asleep on their mats already, or quite excited to see him. You watch as the animatronic finds a open mat to tuck the toddler into, mummering quiet hushes to the children around him as he busies himself with his duties.

Well, you might have lost that one. You retrieve the blankets from the supply closet, using your hands to scrub at the warmness in your face when he's not looking.

#Solar Lunacy #fnaf sb #fnaf the daycare attendant #fnaf sun #fnaf moon #moon x reader #sun x reader #writings #drabbles

[strikersexhaver]

Ok but what if striker has a s/o that is the seven deadly sins, gluttony who is curvy maybe both sfw and nsfw? 👀

Oooo- this is an interesting one! Aight bet, firstly though, I will say I’ll mostly base off the Beelzebub lore plus what we know for our reader! Like how most princesses/princes are tall, so Reader is much taller than any other demon they’re still curvy though.

As usual! NSFW under the read more cut!

spoiler warning though for the latest episode, Western Energy!

Striker’s Bee 🐝 | Beelzebub!Reader

Striker never expected to be where he is now, with one of the most powerful demons in Hell. Solely because his hatred towards uppercrust demons, like yourself.

But to him, you managed to prove to him that- there’s an exception to royals on rare occasion.

He still hates royals mostly, even with whatever you say.

But before that, Striker had met you traveling to the Gluttony ring for murderous affairs. Apparently one of his clients wanted a Hellhound dead, one of your home’s bodyguards.

You bore witness to the event on total accident, your first instinct was punish Striker as per usual with events like this.

But you were intrigued, you had heard of an event in the Richest Cup Café where an imp had attempted assassination on a Prince of the Ars Goetia.

Not being a member yourself, you had the freedom to investigate things drama-free.

Striker looked for a way to escape, but your powers prevented him from doing so. The bees of your glutinous hive prevented every nook and cranny escape.

Normally, Striker would fight until his last breathe- but he knew to hold off and wait for an opening instead. He’s may be cantankerous but he’s not idiotic.

He looked up at you, a tall curvy person who was the Prince/Princess/Majesty of Gluttony.

He only listened to you for the sake of getting out of there, until you offered to pay him for information on what’s going on. Because you do love hearing all about drama, who doesn’t? You needed your honey tea after all.

It lead from talking about what happened between Stolas and Stella, to a more normal conversation that lasted longer than you two realized.

You helped him get back to Wrath via conjuring a portal, then waved him off.

You treated him like a person, on equal grounds and didn’t belittle him- it was, strange. Albeit, he’d assume it would be for the sake of business as you did pay him for information.

Which as per usual led to conversations, meaning you two talked and communicated. You’d tried your best to make him feel- equal.

Because he despises being treated as lesser, or like a pet obviously. So don’t pick him up, or belittle him, using names you’d give to a dog he will pitch a fit.

He found himself actually liking you, and usually saying you’re not one of the other royal trash there is.

He’s love language towards you is acts or service, as he internally is ashamed he’s dating a royal. Because of how boastful he was about hating royals.

He probably wants it to be on the DL, not public and that’s good for you.

It’d be a lie to say he didn’t find you attractive, he loves holding your hips (if you shift to a smaller form) sometimes he slides an arm around your waist.

He does it with a smug smile on his face and a slight flick of his tail.

As for in the bedroom, there were complications at first- establishing boundaries were important. As Striker I can see him not liking to be bottomed on often, since he dislikes being out of control.

But he will have some moments where he is,but very few.

He’s always preferred being a dominant, which may seem awkward sometimes however with the height difference.

Y’all find work arounds, even if you have to shift to a lower height to make it less so.

He loves your body, he absolutely does- he loves kissing down your thighs

He likes fucking you rough to see your ass jiggle, it’s pleasing to him.

When you top him, he’s either a power bottom or a brat.

He refuses to get pegged by you, nah, not a day in hell. He’ll let you ride his face and hold your thighs on him.

If he’s gonna die to a royal, it gotta be this way he refuses any other way.

#striker x reader #striker x reader helluva boss #striker x y/n #striker / reader #striker x oc #striker helluva boss #helluva boss striker #helluva striker #striker #striker and reader #helluva boss #helluva boss x reader

[songoftrillium]

so I've been considering running a W5 game for some friends of mine who have been having a blast with our V5 campaign. We'd have to use a *severely long* list of houserules and lore to make it anything other than a massive trash fire of...well, everything that W5 is now. Unfortunately it's likely to be W5 instead of W20 due to the players bouncing off the x20 rules HARD. Any suggestions as to what gaping holes I should focus on first, rules-and-lore-wise?

I apologize for this essay of a response. In terms of the major mechanics holes to focus on, a friend of mine, Kaidan, was a game playtester that ran a number of games at Gencon, and has done the emotional labor of reading through the entire W5 corebook and identifying ways to make the game playable. For house rules, I'd start there.

The rest of this post is LONG, so buckle up and get a drink before reading on under the cut.

Regarding Gaia's Howl, which isn't addressed in the book, I'd look to the Mind's Eye Theater: Werewolf: the Apocalypse, the last corebook in OWoD that furthers the world metaplot. I believe the mark that was missed in a big way in w5 was that the Age of Apocalypse in that book more or less encompasses exactly what they were trying to achieve in terms of the worldwide destruction of caerns, the death of many old canon NPCs, and the Last Words of Gaia, which was a prophecy laid out by King Albrecht in his final moments of life while destroying the Storm Eater:

“Hope is not sundered; wake me, and a new age of harmony shall begin.”

Nuff said there. You shouldn't really need this corebook to play, but if you can find any information on the Age of Apocalypse online, I recommend using that as your kickoff point to explain how we got here.

Now, on to lore.

As the Storyteller, there are few ways around it; you'll have to read some old materials to construct your own chronicle. A little-known piece of information is that no one edition of Legacy Werewolf was ever meant to supersede the other. All the editions contain uniquely valuable information and were meant to build upon each other, requiring a holistic approach to the old materials: take what matters and use it.

I don't blame your players for balking at the old materials. The first editor that volunteered to help with my big project had never picked up a WoD book in xis life, and when he signed up I asked xim to read enough of the W20 corebook to grasp how to make a character. After struggling with the material for a week, they returned and said, "I'll be honest. That's almost a hundred pages. I'm not reading all that." And I don't blame them. And I don't know if you noticed, but W20 also includes no tools for Storytellers to construct game chronicles. Indeed, no 20th-anniversary edition book across all the splats really does. Since the writing team at PDX didn't use any book other than x20 to construct W5, that only further deepened the reality that Storytellers have been completely forgotten. All Meat, no Potatoes. For all the good content W20 includes, a broad number of items would be decidedly unfair to force players to wade through if you wanted to, and there's also so much of it. If you have yet to notice, the old books have laughably useless indexes, so researching and knowing which books to research to create a good game is incredibly complicated. So, you're right that your players shouldn't have to read any of the old stuff, and you shouldn't necessarily have to run a legacy game to provide a game of meaning.

Now, on to the stuff, you, the Storyteller, need to put together a bombastic chronicle. I have a bibliography of books across multiple editions that really get to the heart of the deepest lore and covers the full width and breadth of what the game has to offer. You don't need to read all these books, but having them gives you all the reference material to have a top-down overview of lore you can pull into your game world that you see fit.

Werewolf: the Apocalypse Storytellers Handbook (1994)This edition was published during a time when White Wolf was still establishing what the World of Darkness represented. It was drafted during 1st edition and came out shortly after the 2nd edition core rulebook came out, making it a hybrid that shares stats between both editions, including renown conversion guidelines between 1st and 2nd editions. You’ll find three essays and a section from it reprinted in this very book, but even those are just a fraction of the value this book offers Storytellers. Beyond what I carry over here, this book includes expanded Garou culture, setting, and enemies, dedicated sections on kinfolk and kami,  and a dedicated chapter on making talismans (fetishes). It even includes a dedicated section for 1st edition to 2nd edition renown conversion and a chapter dedicated to building a custom chronicle suited to your tabletop! Definite must-have and must-read.

Werewolf: The Apocalypse Storytellers Vault Style Guide (2018)Beyond a collection of well-written tales, this book includes a chapter devoted entirely to metaplot. In that way, this section serves as a roadmap towards getting a good feel on which books across which edition may best serve you. It breaks down three different approaches to Metaplot (Passive, Reactive, and Proactive), the pathos driving each edition, and following those threads, one can more easily find which books and editions are best suited to each purpose and tailor their own Storytelling library to best suit their style accordingly.

A World of Rage (2000)

This book is indispensable for learning about the world at large where the game is set. It covers every region published and really cuts out the fat in terms of delivering setting information and systems just about anywhere you’d like to set your game.

Players Guide to Garou (2003)This one’s a home run for any table. Expanded tribe societies and unique gifts? Check. Merits and flaws and expanded fetishes? Check. MOOT MECHANICS? That’s right, check. Moots are the lifeblood of Garou society, and there are structures for this! If you ever wondered what the typical phases of a moot look like, what roles different auspices play, and what your pack of players may be doing during any given time, it’s all laid out here in plain words. Even the Ragabash has (arguably the best) role to play during these events.

Guardians of the Caerns (2000)Ever wondered what exactly werewolves do all day? Wonder no longer. Guardians of the Caerns is the sourcebook of septs and caerns, detailing the sacred places and the Garou communities that guard them. It contains information on sept offices, tribal septs, caern logistics, defensive tactics--even an in-depth look at those who must grow up strictly as Garou, the crinos-born. This is the book for anyone who wants to understand what they're fighting for. 

Book of the Wyrm (1st Edition, 1993)While acknowledging the latest edition of this book, this gives a lot more specific insight into the ins-and-outs of the Urge Wyrms and Maejlin Incarna, who have taken a faceless investment in this chronicle. Understanding the ubiquity of their influence helps to understand not just these entities themselves but also their hierarchies, as they are mirrored across each of the many heads of the Wyrm.

Book of the Wyld (2001)It includes information on the naming of spirits, stats on the Nameless, information on caern abscession, and the not-so-subtle recommendation to write a chronicle surrounding the final days of an ancient caern. It offers insights into this not-understood aspect of the Triat, including many that aren’t in print in the 20th Anniversary Edition. Some enemies come from the woods, after all.

Rage Across the Heavens (1999)

Meet the Gaian Pantheon, all the celestial incarnae to be found across the Tellurian may be found across this book, including unique powers associated with them. This also includes a chronicle encompassing the emergence of the red star Anthelios, believed to be a portent of the end times.

Hearthbound (2023)

That's right, ya girl wrote a cross-edition book this year, and I highly recommend it! This is a good answer for players looking for a drop-in solution to confront the systemic issues in the lore directly in-game. The problematic features of the Garou nation were always meant to be confronted by the tabletop, and this sourcebook offers a turnkey approach to doing just that. It details many of those issues up-front and lays bare many of the not-so-pleasant aspects of the Garou Nation in plain English, including several story seeds on how to work this new tribe into any chronicle.

Lastly, on language and tabletop terminology. It's best to treat U****a and W*****o as tribes separate from the Galestalkers and Ghost Council. They are different enough that you can't easily move the names over and call them such. That said, they are named after things considered extremely inappropriate to use in a tabletop setting, so I recommend presenting them using two Conlang terms I constructed for my games. For U****a I recommend Hapil, and to rename their patron to The River Serpent. For W*****o, I recommend Kalaril, and to rename their patron to Old Windtooth.

Lastly, if you'd like to know how to scare the piss out of your players' characters, I wrote an essay on how to do just that. Good luck!

#world of darkness #werewolf: the apocalypse #werewolf the apocalypse #werewolves #world building #werewolf #w5 #storytelling #werewolftheapocalypse #gorechords #hearthbound #Ask a Storyteller #long post #no tl;dr just read it

[lynbaccha]

Primo's new summon is something he has not seen before, but the feeling is kind of mutual.

(Includes me bending the lore timeline, because I can. I mean, young Primo, can you blame me?)

The summoning was never an easy task. It was always about control. Each side fighting for it, each side struggling to get what they wanted. Most importantly, however…

Would the other side lose the battle? Would the other side make a mistake and bend, unwillingly, to the summoner’s mold?

This ghoul didn’t want to lose. For what felt like hours it fought back. Almost like a barbarian in legends against an enemy kingdom. All alone. Doing everything in its power to remain as a master of its own life. 

But, like a tired animal after a dragged out chase, the ghoul made a mistake. And thus, Papa’s magic got a hold of it. Its wrathful scream of defeat echoed in the ritual chamber, as it was dragged up from the debts it calls home. 

Then, silence. During it, the smoke subdued and smell of sulfur vanished, as soon as they have appeared, revealing the summoned demon. 

The battle was over. Papa had won.

Primo, exhausted and worn in his own right, expected to face confusion and questions, at most. Every ghoul so far had those. Why me? What is my purpose now? And countless more.

Not with this one, no. 

It remained silent. So silent it threatened to suffocate the surrounding atmosphere. Its piercing eyes slowly, cautiously, scanning the room. All the new ghoul had to offer to others, was fear and hostility. Not that anyone blamed the poor thing, though. The situation, when put into perspective, must have felt terrifying. 

However, because of how hostile and fearful it was, Primo immediately recognized the situation as dangerous. On top of that, the male ghoul was big. The biggest one he had seen so far. Slender looking, like a water ghoul, but they had powerful horns, and muscles, like an earth ghoul would. 

Did he summon a hybrid?

No matter... This situation could turn ugly. And he knew he had to prevent it.

So, Primo approached the new ghoul. The moment he moved, the other male’s head snapped directly towards him. The ghoul’s gills flared up, and a low growl left his chest. The demon was cradling a glowing lantern in his arms, as he curled into himself.

The other ghouls almost held their breath, ready to jump on the new summon. Their job was to serve and protect Papa, and they took it seriously. The options all together were worse. And they hope the new guy will realize it sooner rather than later…

Under the demons watch, Primo took a few stepped closer, as he observed his new summon with as kind eyes as he could muster. In response, the ghoul showed his sharp teeth. The tail trashed behind him, and the young human man could see a stinger on it.

This is bad...

”Calm now…,” Primo spoke softly, and stretched his hand. Before he could say anything more, he felt a sharp pain in that very same hand, mere seconds after the new ghoul has buried his teeth in Papa’s flesh and bone.

From that, it was chaos.

Primo was pulled back by one of his ghouls, and the new summon was pulled into the other direction by two others. In an attempt to restrain the big ghoul, the rest twisted his arms enough to make him drop the lantern, that rolled directly in front of Primo. New Papa immediately picked it up, as the ghouls tried to restrain their fellow demon.

The effort was nothing but futile, as the chamber soon filled with snarls, growls and sounds of broken bones. The massive hybrid was pure rage and terror, and he felt threatened. Primo’s other ghouls tried to scratch, bite, and hit, and the hybrid did the same.

Primo observed. The new ghoul was panicking. In despair, even. After the lantern, it’s only possession…

And the moment the aggressive ghoul locked its eyes on him, he knew what to do.

The order was absurd to his ghouls. An order to stay back. To let the new summon to come to their Papa. The other ghouls fought against their Papa’s orders for a moment, until Primo reminded them of their duty. To obey their Papa.

The leap the new demon made was almost too sudden. Ghouls are faster than humans, much faster. However, this one was, again, was just summoned. Exhausted and not in its full strength. Without that fact on his side, Primo knew he would have been done for.

He reached the injured hand he carried the lantern in towards his ghoul. The hybrid came to an immediate halt, crouching a little in front of Primo. He wasn’t sure what to do, and it clearly was thinking the way out of the situation in front of himself. Both physically and mentally. This human cannot be trusted, Primo just dragged him from their home…

Why? That is the question Primo saw in the other’s eyes. Simple, yet full of confusion and uncertainty.

Gently, Primo put the lantern in the ghouls arms. Its owner’s another hand immediately reached to cradle the object, while the other was still tensed to its side. The demon’s gaze lowered to check for any damage to the possession, and he expressed its relief with a gentle bonk against the lantern’s glass.

Then, the two met each other’s eyes. Primo’s own were filled with compassion, as he laid his injured hand onto the other one’s arm. The demon tensed up a little, inhaling a sharp breath… Before he could relax, and feel the peacefulness in that feathery light touch from the being that he should despise.

”Easy now, tesoro,” Primo spoke once again. ”Easy now…”

The ghoul in front the Papa was full of confusion. Absolutely speechless in front of such kindness. From a person that dragged it off from its home. Even more confusing was that the ghoul couldn’t clearly remember when was the last time he had received gentleness. Scars on the gray skin told that much. The blind, green eye, framed with a scar, acted as a tattle tail of its brutal past.

”What is your name?” Primo asked. The ghoul answered with a blink. His name hasn’t mattered since small forever. He didn’t really need to even remember that. Just that he has one...

Yet, with surprising ease, the slightly strained voice whispers against the pressuring silence, gentle gaze of the another, and familiar warmth of the artifact;

”Arvak...”

#the band ghost #primo #papa emeritus i #nameless ghoul oc #nameless ghoul oc arvak #water ghoul #earth ghoul #oc backstory #i'm bad at tagging #i'm bad at writing #but fuck i enjoyed to even try to convey feelings of these two in this small fic #lmao

[em-dash-press]

Are Prologues Worth Your Time?

It felt like every book I picked up when I was a kid and a teenager had a prologue. I thought they were super deep and essential foreshadowing, but then I went to college for creative writing.

You know what every professor taught?

Prologues are outdated and unnecessary.

I was shocked. Not that I’d ever say that I had only read the greatest books (many were trash—and some, beloved trash), but how could so many published books have outdated and unnecessary prologues where they’re supposed to hook a reader?

Here are a few thoughts you can consider when unwrapping this problem for yourself.

Give Your Prologue a Purpose

There are two primary purposes for prologues:

They give the reader a glimpse of a future event in the plot (like a movie trailer).

They give the reader a glimpse into the fictional world’s past to set the scene for the current world (like a flashback).

You don’t necessarily need to put a prologue in your manuscript. Your reader will likely get hooked from the first chapter you’ve worked so hard on. However, if your character/world/conflict will drastically change later, you can make the reader wonder, “How does it get from here to there?” after the first chapter with a prologue.

Flashback prologues are also helpful. A handful of pages could introduce the reader to a conflict (a deity getting betrayed by other gods and cursing all humans to forget they exist) that sets the tone/explains why your universe exists the way it does (every single character and person in the novel doesn’t know about gods because their history has been wiped from their minds, but the protagonist meets one of the gods who betrayed the antagonist deity and wants others to see/hear them too).

How to End a Prologue

Your prologue should end with the reader fully engaged, but wondering—WHAT?!

This might mean that you write your prologue (after deciding on one of the purposes mentioned above) when you’ve finished your manuscript. You’ll know exactly which historical or future point in your world will be most relative to your plot and the most captivating for your reader.

If George R.R. Martin had become inspired to write Game of Thrones based on an idea like this—historically powerful households go to war with each other to regain the most powerful throne in the realm, based on their various birthrights—and written the prologue immediately, we never would have been introduced to the potential-dead-brought-back-to-life in the actual prologue. 

You gotta admit, zombies are a much more gripping hook than political rivalries. Especially when there are so many rivalries and so much history to learn before the tension builds!

When a Prologue May Be Necessary

Sometimes writers feel that their first few chapters are basically info dumps. You may have created a complex world with lots of history, lore, and ongoing conflict. The reader has to understand it all in the first five chapters, but it makes your story read like a textbook.

Prologues can help by summarizing the most important information the reader has to grasp to enjoy your manuscript. Challenge yourself to write some flash fiction (in this case, ~1-3 pages) about your novel’s world to see if you can create a prologue that condenses the most essential info for the reader. You can edit the next few chapters to see if they have better flow/pacing.

Reasons to Avoid Writing a Prologue

You may need to remove your prologue or pass on writing one if you agree with any of these factors:

The info explained in the prologue (history, initial conflict) reappears later in the plot.

You’re including the prologue because your first chapter is boring (just rewrite the first chapter—it will likely still feel boring even with an amazing prologue).

You feel like you have to have one. (This is common in fantasy/sci-fi.)

You want a prologue to set the mood for your story. (That’s the job of your first chapter.)

You need a prologue to do all of your world-building. (Introducing the reader gradually to your world through action-based events the first few chapters is much more engaging than an info-dump prologue.)

Make Your Decision After Getting to Know Your WIP

I tend to think of prologues as something you consider and potentially write well after developing your WIP. Get to know your characters, your plot, the stakes, and the world’s history/conflict before deciding if a prologue would hook your readers. You can always write it in a separate document/page and play around with removing/adding it with beta readers.

#writeblr #prologues #writing a prologue #writing tips #writing advice #creative writing #writers of tumblr

[genericpuff]

I got 3 questions for you

1. So, if persephone can do bad things and get a reward for it, does it mean you can say the same argument for apollo when he SA persephone but he the bad guy for likely persephone and hate hades?

2. Why does everyone still talking about Apollo SA persephone like it 2 weeks ago and not 10 years ago(like it said) plus persephone may or may not forgotten about it? 

3. Will you change all the females (not all them tho, but) hairstyles or keep them same because I'm very tired of the same slick back and slick side, it's not that I don’t hate them or anything just it doesn't have unique to the hair like persephone having flowers on hair ( sorry, it hard for me trying to explain).

aight let's do this

1.) this is a question that comes up a lot because it helps us observe the morality line in LO and how it's applied effectively (it is not). one does have to wonder why we're supposed to root for Persephone but condemn characters like Minthe. one has to wonder why people will use "well greek myth was fucked up" as a defense of LO but then still expect people to take the SA plot seriously when SA is something that happened all the time in greek myth. this isn't to say things like the SA shouldn't be taken seriously, they ABSOLUTELY SHOULD, but then the comic will ask us to not think too hard about persephone abusing a lower class person. tl ; dr: lore olympus can't pick a lane and it shows in how it expects us to root for some characters and trash on others even though they've both committed similarly-heinous acts.

2.) i'm gonna apologize in advance because i'm really gonna like, come at you here, but this question comes across as very victim-blamey. I get if that wasn't your intention so I'm not gonna drill into you too hard, but that's often used as an argument for SA victims to just "get over it". There's no timeline as to when or how long it should take for a victim of SA to heal from what happened to them. Speaking candidly an SA victim myself, I still struggle with sex as an adult because of how much it affected me when I was younger (especially considering it happened when I was still in my formative years, like my brain straight up wasn't done developing yet so that had lasting effects that I still feel today). People are still talking about it, not because Persephone seems to have forgotten about it, but because Rachel herself clearly wants the narrative and her own audience to forget about it, as it's the one plotline she clearly never intended to write.

And when I say she "never intended to write" I mean that literally, apparently when she first uploaded the assault episode she didn't even put a trigger warning because she legitimately didn't see what happened as assault. So she quietly retconned it by adding the trigger warning and later expanding on the plotline through Eros explaining to Persephone what happened. Which wasn't necessarily the wrong thing to do, I think that initial conversation with Eros is quite meaningful in getting across that being nagged into sex =/= consent, but it's become abundantly clear that Rachel is just pretending this was her plan all along, when the proof in the narrative and writing shows that it never was. You can't just throw in an SA plot for drama but it's very clear that's what Rachel's using it for and that's where the criticism lies when people talk about Persephone's progress - the comic tries to convince us she's "over it" but we've never actually seen her side of things, we see more screen time and backstory given to the assaulter's POV (Apollo) and the POV of the friends of the victim (Hermes, Artemis, Hades, etc.) than we do from the actual victim (Persephone).

I hope that makes sense? The ten year time skip in and of itself isn't the problem, the problem is that Rachel wrote in a 10 year time skip that she clearly never planned out so she could get Persephone's AOW punishment over with ASAP and so she could artificially retcon things on a whim by inserting them as flashbacks. Rachel doesn't use flashbacks as an actual narrative device, she uses them as a crutch so she can patch together things as she comes up with them because she hasn't written out an actual story. And there's no single plotline that demonstrates that more than the SA plotline.

3.) I'm definitely trying to have fun with the hairstyles, the way the hair is done in LO just goes to show that Rachel only knows how to draw 3 faces LMAO That said, I'm also trying to keep it within the design choices of the original comic as much as possible, so aside from new characters (such as Dionysus and Charon) I won't be changing things too much, just enough to make them feel fresh but still recognizable (ex. Persephone's mid-length hair when she cuts it at Hades' house).

#ama #ask me anything #anon ask me anything #anon ama #lore olympus critical #lo critical #antiloreolympus #anti lore olympus

[literary-illuminati]

2024 Book Review #7 – Montress Volume 2: The Blood by Marjorie Liu and Sana Takeda

I am very slowly re-reading this series as what’s likely to be the vast majority of my comic consumption for the year. The deliberately slower pace is almost certainly a good decision, as it means this time around I’m actually appreciating the individual issues and volumes as, like, coherent works in and of themselves rather than just plunging through the entire backlog in one burst.

This volume picks up after some indeterminate timeskip following the first one, opening with Maika Halfwolf, Kippa and Ren arrive in the (aspirationally) neutral port city of Thyria, trashing Maika’s mother’s apartments for clues on what she was researching when she died – and thus, hopefully, clues of Maika’s past and the whole eldritch symbiotic living in her soul that sometimes bursts out to eat people thing. The clues lead them to a cursed island where her mother travelled before she was born to question the god imprisoned within, where both she and Zinn (the aforementioned symbiote) are confronted with thoroughly unwelcome revelations about their pasts. Also so, so many people die.

With the basic conceits of the setting and plot established in the first volume, this one is free to delve deeper in intricacies – the backstories and relationships various characters have to the world, and to a lesser extent the Deep Lore and metaphysics underlying the world (though that is still far less prominent than I recall it getting later). We learn what Zinn’s place in the society of the Monstrum was, and how they came to be trapped and embodied in the mortal world; we likewise learn quite a lot about Maika’s (terrible, horrible, very bad no good) family and childhood, and to a much lesser extent even a bit about what Master Ren got up to before the plot started. We also learn about several historical murders and genocides, and get out first real look at the Shaman Empress, one of the two historical incredibly powerful sorceresses who shaped the history of the world who I kept getting confused in my head when I read this series the first time.

Buried in all the lore we do get a really amazingly realized journey to a creepy cursed island that is revealed to be the overgrown bones of a dead god on which another has been imprisoned for attempted geno- and mass filicide. Nothing about it breaking any new ground in the genre of creepy cursed jungle islands, but it was an exceptionally well-executed example of the form.

But plot and lore aside this really is a character dynamics book – or, well, dynamic singular. Maika’s mom really fucked her up, basically. Not that it’s a good series for healthy parenting generally but discovering you only exist before your mom fucked a guy from a specific bloodline so she could have and use you as a moldable vessel for eldritch rituals has got to be up there, right?

In particular, quite a lot of care and effort is spent on this has fucked Maika up. Basically her entire relationship with Kippa this volume could be cut out as a case study in cycles of abuse and how Maika both deeply resents and knows she was hurt by how her mother raised her but also literally doesn’t have any other model for how to take care of a kid than ‘teach her to swim by throwing her overboard and fishing her back out if it looks like she’s actually going to drown’ repeated ad nauseam. (It’s really very telling that Maika gets far more emotional warmth and physical affection from her godfather – self-described ‘murderous pirate’ – than she ever does from her mother).

It’s far less salient than it will become later, but throughout the volume there’s also very much a secondary theme of what it means to leave with guilt. Or not even guilt so much as culpability – discovering that pre-amnesia you murdered your sibling because they opposed, coming to terms with the fact that your existence is essentially vampiric and your continued life requires the murder of others, a whole mess of dealing with betraying either relationships or principles when the two come in conflict. Not really doing anything with it yet, but the subject’s definitely getting raised.

Anyway, everything I said about the art in my review of volume one still stands – easily the most beautiful comic series I’ve ever read. And if I remember right next volume is when my all-time favorite character gets introduced, so looking forward to it!

#book review #monstress #comic #sff #lesbian space atrocities

[iztarshi]

Fandom: tmnt, no particular continuity

Prompt: Came Back Wrong

Notes: This is a tgcf crossover, which is where it borrows the lore on ghosts from.

-

There have been reports of ghosts, terrible green creatures that perch like gargoyles on the roof of the house and terrify anyone using the outhouse. The cultivator listens to the words of the woman who lives here and the interjections of her children, who seem to see the creatures most often, and nods.

“You say they were scaled? Did they have shells?”

The children don’t know. Only that they had terrible white eyes that gleamed in the night.

The cultivator turns to the mother. “Did you have turtle soup lately?”

“Yes, a few weeks ago. My husband caught the turtles down by the lake,” she says, surprised.

“And these ghosts have appeared since then?”

“Yes… You think they are turtles?”

“It’s not unheard of, “ the cultivator answers, “for animals to resent being eaten. Did you keep any of the remains? The shells?”

“No, they were soft shelled. I threw the bones and shells onto the midden.”

“Then I shall dig them out.”

It is not what most people would call a pleasant task but the cultivator doesn’t mind. It reminds him of his youth, in a way, giving him a chance to reflect on how different his life is now. There was a time when meat stripped from the bones of yesterday’s chicken might have given him a good meal. Today he is after something else.

It is a pitiful collection, four shells with the leathery hide mostly rotten away to show the delicate spurs of bone sticking out of the central carapace, and a little pile of bones that are beyond sorting. Young turtles, he thinks, which explains the ghosts. The young can be passionate, even reptiles.

The cultivator holds his hand out over the bones and says a blessing before channeling spiritual power into a white hot flame. The children who had been giggling as he picked through the trash and blessed the remains of their meal stop to look at him in awe. However, they do not have the patience to wait the time it takes to reduce bones to ash.

By the time he is done night has fallen and, when he looks up, eight white eyes look back at him from the darkness.

“Welcome to this place. I would speak with you,” he tells them gently.

They move closer. In the moonlight he can see their shells, the three-fingered hands. After death human ghosts can take on partially animal forms and animal ghosts can take on partially human forms, but they must be powerful to have done this so quickly.

“You have changed a lot in a short time,” he says.

“You’re telling us,” one of them mutters.

Another makes an awkward bob with its head and the cultivator thinks, this one wants to be polite but does not know how. “Will you disperse us?” it asks.

“Do you want me to?” he asks.

They chorus “no”, holding onto one another. Perhaps they would be better off at peace, but he does not have it in him to destroy them by force.

“Then I will not. You seem to have been quite restrained. Other ghosts in your place have tried to eat the humans that ate them, the worst you’ve done is scare them.”

“We don’t really want to hurt anyone,” says the smallest turtle. “It was just funny to see them run.”

Fear and confusion seem to have formed them more than aggression, although there almost certainly is anger for them to be this powerful.

“If you’re not going to disperse us can we have our ashes?” the same turtle who asked if he would disperse them continues.

“Will you promise to leave this place?”

“But where will we go?” asks the turtle who hasn’t spoken yet. “Back to the lake?”

The lake was likely their whole world and the fishermen of the village certainly won’t welcome them there now. The cultivator considers. “Perhaps, after I give you your ashes, you could come with me?”

“With a human?” snaps one of them, and, ah, there’s the anger.

“Not quite,” the cultivator answers, and lets go of his form, returning to the scruffy brown rat that is his natural form. A long time ago a cultivator had made a beloved companion of him, carrying him on his shoulder and talking to him of the arts he studied. Since then the rat has studied on his own. “My human form is cultivated, as you see. Perhaps I could help you become accustomed to your new forms as well.”

He steps back to let them divide the ashes among them, mixed as they are, while they consider. For now he stays in this, less threatening, form.

When they are done the turtles turn to him. “We’ll come with you. But where will you take us?”

“Ghost City, I think. It is a rough place, but people will not fear you there.” Nor, he adds to himself, will you be tempted by revenge in a place with few humans. But they do not strike him as vengeful. Perhaps, in a place where they can be accepted, even a place with few morals, he can teach them to do some good.

#febuwhump #febuwhumpday16

[katsu-curry835]

So you're thinking about reading A Song of Ice and Fire...

Now, it's come to my attention that there are some people out there who are contemplating reading George RR Martin's masterpiece of a series A Song of Ice and Fire, also known as the Game of Thrones books, but they haven't actually picked them up for various reasons. I'm here to convince you why you should read them, and why your concerns aren't justified (some of them are, we will get to that.)

This post is for people who have contemplated reading the books and need an extra push to actually going and buying them. This is your sign to start reading this series if you haven't already. You will not regret it, it's exquisitely written.

I've seen the show, I don't need to read the books.

Oh lord.

The show and the books do diverge quite extensively, especially as they both go on. Book 1 of ASoIaF and season 1 of GoT are pretty much scene for scene the same story, with, however, big differences in plot after that. Body counts are different, character motivations and arcs are different, and even certain major events have very noticeable changes from book to show. Needless to say you will not be getting the same experience by any means if you were to read the books.

But that's pretty obvious, right? Obviously you know the two are different; all adaptations are different. So what's better about the books?

Well, for starters, the books don't have a trash fire ending (yes I know what you're thinking, see concern 5.) The later seasons of GoT were terrible, it must be said. Yet there is not a single moment in the ASoIaF series that I would call bad, especially compared to the final two seasons of the show.

Secondly, the books and the show both have bombastic plots and intricate character arcs that are easy to get invested in. But the books have something the show doesn't: banger prose. I was one of the people who watched the show before reading the books and I was blown away by just how much better these characters that I already loved were because I got to see inside their heads with their internal monologues. This is a series that really lends itself to deep character introspection. And Martin is an excellent prose writer, make no mistake. This, I feel, is often left out when we're talking GoT. Yes, Martin's plots and characters are amazing. But the sheer quality of quotable lines from his work that aren't in the dialogue and absolute zingers from his internal monologues make this more than worth it.

The books are more than their own thing and are, in my opinion, the optimal way to experience the series. The show is easier to consume, but the books are more in depth. They stand apart from the show as the superior telling of the story, and it definitely helps that the people doing the writing of the show were incompetent. If it wasn't clear, David and Dan were not the geniuses behind seasons 1-4 of GoT, it was George RR Martin. The reason it was such good television, was because it was an adaptation of even better source material.

2. The books are really long and complicated, they feel like they'd be quite difficult to read.

There is some truth to this notion; this is not Baby's First Epic Fantasy Novel. This ain't a light read; it's pretty dense with information. That being said, I don't read to much fiction myself and I found it pretty easy to digest.

Here's the deal, if you go into this series intimidated by all the lore and the size of the books, you're almost setting yourself up for failure. My advice is to pretend that you don't know how 'complicated' it gets. Because being complicated is only a problem if you can't understand what's happening because of its complexity.

From my experience at school (this is relevant I swear), I have found that the best teachers are the people who able to explain complex concepts in a way that makes it seem obvious or simple. And I began to notice this when I started to recount what I had learned from my teachers to other people and came to the conclusion that I did not know how much I was learning. I knew more than I thought. Then I noticed a similar phenomenon when I started explaining stories I really enjoyed. I told the story to my friends, and I realized that there was way more that I needed to explain than I assumed. A good writer is a good teacher: they make the complicated seem simple, and make the long seem short. And George RR Martin is a fucking brilliant teacher.

You will fly through these books quicker than you expect, and you will pick up more information than you know you are picking up. The fact of the matter is, they're well written. If you pay attention, you won't be confused.

3. I've heard the series gets really violent and sexually explicit. There's a lot of guts and gore and scenes of assault and violence against women. How bad does it get?

Obviously I cannot tell you personally whether the series is too shocking or visceral for you, since I don't know your individual tastes. People's mileage will vary with this sort of thing. But there are two things I want to say about this.

Firstly, the show has given this series a bad rap in this regard. There are plenty of scenes in the show that have way more blood 'n' boobs than the books did in those equivalent moments. Scenes will fade to black or be referred to off screen in the books where the show takes great pains to show you everything. This is because of the marketing around the show at the time as some sort of 'this isn't you're typical fantasy for nerds, this has blood and tits. This is sexy fantasy, not like lord of the rings!!1!' The show runners relied on this sentiment to make you uncomfortable because that was part of the point. So they embellished. However, I don't want to convince you that this is a light read. There are descriptions of blood and there are some rape scenes from the perspective of the woman being raped, and that can get pretty harrowing.

But this brings me to my second point: books aren't a visual medium. Maybe this is personal thing, but reading a description of a murder, no matter how evocative and disgusting, will never be the same as someone being stabbed in front of you on your screen, it just won't. There are particularly bloody or uncomfortable scenes in the show (the Red Wedding, Oberyn Martell vs The Mountain, that Sansa scene with Ramsay and Theon) that I struggle to rewatch because every human has a tendency to get a little squeamish at moments like that. But reading them/their equivalents in the books doesn't feel as bad, because it's ink on a page, it's words. And as fans of the series will tell you, words are wind.

That being said, if you think a viscerally described sexual assault, rape or murder will be too much for you, or if you cannot handle depictions of those things in general, it's with great sadness that I should recommend you don't read these books. The violence and rape isn't gratuitous, but it does happen, and frankly these books should have a trigger warning in the front covers.

4. The series is problematic

Yeah, uh, a little bit.

No piece of media is ever going to be ideologically pure and it's unreasonable to expect that. As alluded to in the last section, there's some pretty heavy stuff in this series and the line between depiction and glorification/normalization is blurry here. But I'm going to stop you there because if we had that discussion we would be here all day. When people say 'this is problematic' what they usually mean is that the way something is done has some form of unintentional (or maybe even intentional) bigotry baked into it. And there is some of that here.

The way women's bodies are described can be a little weird. There are scenes where Martin will describe a female child as having 'small, tender breasts,' and it's like 'um... sir what is this?' Generally, though, that Martin describes the women in this is supposed to have a point. It could've been done less strangely, though.

Drogo's relationship to Daenerys is v e r y strange when you consider that Drogo is 30 something and Dany is 13 at the start of the series. Yet we as the audience appear to be asked to root for them. Very gross, George.

I'm sure I missed something, I'm not super deep into this discourse and this was just the stuff that I, someone who is not and has never been a woman, has noticed. But there is substance to this criticism, the weird misogyny in the way Martin writes women's bodies is non trivial.

BUT, I can excuse it because outside of this, ASoIaF has some of the most brilliantly written female characters in any media ever. Their motives are complex, they all embody different kinds of femininity and womanhood, and they're all strong, in their own way. Martin is excellent at writing characters regardless of gender, and this series has some excellent women in it.

5. But the series might never be finished!

This is the big one, really, and this is the concern, along with concern number 3, is the one I understand the most.

If you're unfamiliar, George RR Martin has gone on record saying that he plans to release seven books in his series, although if he thinks his characters outgrow that, he will change it to be more books. For now, though, he seems to be sticking to seven. He has released five novels so far... and the last one was released in 2011. Martin is 75 years old. At the pace he is currently writing, we probably will not get book 7 before he dies. And if we do get book 7, it likely won't be written entirely by him, and therefore will not feel like an appropriate conclusion to many.

This puts some people off and I completely understand why. All I can tell you is why I don't mind.

Currently, the five ASoIaF novels that were released are the best literature I have ever read hands down. The first three novels form a semi completed arc of their own, so some can view them as their own self contained story. For me personally, the 1,7 million total words Martin has already written are enough, because they fuck so hard.

If I didn't address a concern you have about reading these books, please just ask, I'd be more than happy to talk about it. Otherwise, thank you for reading!

#asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #reading #books #book recommendations #in this essay i will #yes i know these are already popular books #i just want someone to talk about them with #fantasy #game of thrones

[lu15d4]

Revisiting Infernal Tokyo now that Akira is king (SMT4)

Did you know you can revisit Blasted and Infernal Tokyo after defeating Lucifer in the neutral route? Have you seen all of its new content?

2 things to say before we start

This blog contains spoilers of Shin megami tensei IV so I wouldn't recommend you to read this blog unless you at least got locked in one alignment and be in the monochrome forest.

Sorry for the poor quality of the pictures, I took them directly from my phone

With that said, let's get started!

Not long ago I realized you can revisit blasted and Infernal Tokyo if you get locked into chaos or you beat Lucifer in neutral.

After getting locked in one alignment, if it allows you to freely get to the yamator reactor room (am I right Merkabah?), go there. Once you're there, Burroughs will ask you if you want to go to either Blasted Tokyo or Infernal Tokyo, or just stay in the Tokyo you're in now.

So I didn't think twice and decided to explore both Tokyos to see what's new in them.

For Blasted Tokyo I haven't seen much change. But for Infernal Tokyo tho, damn there's a lot here to discover:

Ikebukuro and Shibuya are fully open to explore

New sidequests

A LOT of new dialogue from npcs

Ikebukuro and Shibuya

During your first time in Infernal Tokyo, before Akira became king, you couldn't enter these districts because they were owned by Kenji, and if Akira was only allowed to pick up trash and be humiliated in there, of course the guard wouldn't let you to even set a foot in.

But now that Akira is king, I went there to see what would happen if I got there. And well, the guards are now even polite towards me.

So now that they let me pass, we can freely explore the districts. Obviously, being Infernal Tokyo a Tokyo that isn't meant to be stayed in for a long time, the districts are much smaller than ceiling Tokyo, but in both of them there's a pub where you can heal and take challenge quests, shops, npcs to talk with and even a domain (pretty much all like Infernal Shinjuku). Speaking about sidequests...

The sidequests

There are both sidequests you can get from the pub and from speaking with demons.

The pub ones is killing one of the many funny d*ck demons from a ritual and Fornite in Infernal Tokyo :)

The others are beating the demon from the domains (Loki and the 4 horsemen of the apocalypse) and sidequests mostly about hindu mythology demons.

Honestly, none of them are bad, but compared to other sidequests of the game, they aren't the greatest either. The Kartikeya one is pretty cool because it gives you a bit of hindu lore but not much else.

The npcs

Now this is what I really want to talk about.

There's a nice amount of npcs around Infernal Tokyo with new dialogue, from the ones of the newly unlocked districts to the ones from Shinjuku and Akira's former base.

What they talk about can be divided between:

The ones who talk about how life has been as demonoids/nurishers.

The ones who talk about king Akira

The ones who talk about their life as demonoids/nourishers

There's not much to say about them other than how most npcs say positive things about it

However, there are 2 cases I want to mention

1- the one who calls Kenji a hero. He says that before the nourishers were a thing, demons used to eat humans until Kenji arrived, killed the demons and established the demonoid/nourisher system.

What I find interesting is how, despite Kenji leaving Tokyo a place where everyone kills each other and the strong abuse the weak, his actions improved the situation for some people to the point some of them call him their savior.

What's kinda funny is that how Ikebukuro from the unstable Tokyo is somehow more stable than the Ikebukuro from the lesser unstable Tokyo (ceiling Tokyo).

2- The demonoid you find near the cocoon in Shijuku (while his dialogue already appears even before Akira took Shinjuku, I believe this is still worth mentioning).

What this guy says is a bit of his story about the reason he became a demonoid, which was to overcome the death of his daughter, who just like Akira's sister, rot in the cocoon.

With this I think it's safe to say that Akira's case wasn't a unique one, with the cocoon filled with nothing but children (and maybe teenagers); once it was opened many had to see at a very young age their siblings/cousins/friends not only dead, but also in a rotten state, as well as many parents who had to see their children dead and in a rotten state.

Probably many people turned themselves into demonoids just to overcome the death of people really close to them. After all it must have been a really traumatic experience to all these people. Just look at Akira, who after 25 years of the events he visits his sister's grave every time he picks up trash, which it's pretty much a routine. There's also the demonoid near the cocoon, who might visit it frequently because of his daughter.

The ones who talk about Akira

Because how can a story of a walking joke who did nothing but be humiliated and pick up trash and suddenly becomes the king of Tokyo not be a topic to talk about a lot?

A lot of the demonoids talk about his obvious lack of strength compared to Kenji and how they feel bad for him or believe he really needs help.

Others give their opinion about his plan of making Tokyo more equal.

Most demonoids say how unused they are to the word "equal". Some nourishers on the other hand, say some of their new rights for nourishers, such as having more food (said by the same nourisher who previously said that Akira would give them access to baths) and even having vacation days.

For that to work, Akira decided to every now and then go to each district and count the amount of nourishers each district has, to bring more to those who lack of them.

It really looks like when he became the leader of Shinjuku, he found out the big amount of nourishers he had, so he decided not to let the nourishers keep feeding the demonoids all the time. And since he really liked that, he decided to do the same regulation in all Tokyo.

A sentence that stands out a lot is "he's (Akira) kind of a weird demonoid. But then again, he's the only one who treated us like real humans". This opens a headcanon I have about how nourishers are treated.

While initially, the main perk of being nourisher is that you won't be killed by demonoids, it was just initially.

There's a nourisher in Kasumigaseki who said (before Akira took over Shinjuku) that the good thing of being a nourisher is not being killed, but the thing is that the districts weren't keeping in touch each other, so each of them had their own way to manage things.

Which means that while Akira's nourishers might actually live the perks of a nourisher (because he's a cinnamon roll) and think that's how other nourishers live, the nourishers from other districts might not at all. And since everyone can do literally what the want, I'm sure the nourishers must have been living severe cases of abuse or even be killed if the demonoids thought they had more than enough nourishers.

Because it's in our nature to take advantage of the weaker, to exploit the weaknesses of the one next to us, just like when you nonstop threw bufu to minotaur once you realized he's weak to ice, and if nothing is stopping you, even if it's just your morals, then you'll just do it.

Akira was a special case, he wanted the nourishers to be treated like decent human beings, plus even more if he couldn't get more nourishers.

Also, I'm pretty sure the leaders of the districts usually abused even the demonoids from their district. Just like in a company, one person from a higher position in the company, can easily abuse the ones from the lower positions.

In a place where strength is was matters, the leaders surely are the strongest of their district, and there's nothing stopping them for doing what they want, so why not doing what you want with your people?

But with all that, there are 3 dialogues I want to highlight

1- a demonoid from Shinjuku was asked by Akira to pick up trash for him, just like how he has been doing before being king. What's impressive is that he seemed sad when asking that.

Maybe Akira after many years being humiliated by a guard, picking up trash and going to his sister's grave as a routine, he might have developed some form of Stockholm syndrome to that and therefore he might actually deeply miss that routine.

Plus, that same demonoid mentioned previously how Akira murmured about how he won't be able to visit his sister frequently anymore.

2- In a pub in Ikebukuro, there's a demonoid who talks about how some demonoids from Kasumigaseki killed demonoids from Ikebukuro because they didn't support Akira. And to that there's a lot to say.

First of, there's something clear about this, no matter what you do, no matter how good your actions are, no matter how good you are as a leader of a region, there will be ones who will not be happy, who will prefer the other thing; and probably there are a great bunch of demonoids who preferred Kenji as the ruler, maybe because they had more freedom.

Second, the fanaticism some developed for Akira. For every famous person, there are people who will follow them like if they were Jesus, who will agree with whatever they say and will do something against anyone who disagrees/doesn't support them. And even if the people from Kasumigaseki got their life improved, they probably didn't get the fact that there are people who not only didn't, but also politically disagree with them.

And this might perfectly be something Akira didn't even want, but this could perfectly make the ones who initially were against him, dislike him even more, specially if Akira doesn't do anything about it, things could go really bad.

3- A nourisher from Ichigaya was given a new role by Akira, which she says she's grateful for that because she just won't give brain juice anymore. However she says that Akira was apologizing "from the bottom of his heart".

For what she, other nourisher and a demonoid in Ichigaya say, I think Akira brought some male and female nourishers and made them do nothing but make babies.

If it's true, I have to say

Akira is so damn cute.

After seeing how others have done far worse things for "the greater good" (ehem ehem, Tayama, ehem ehem, Yuriko,...), as well as finding them justified and on top of that, showing no remorse whatsoever, Akira apologizing from the bottom of his heart for a far lesser bad thing, Akira, I really love you.

Although this shows how even Infernal Akira, despite having the role of representing the nice, benevolent, necessary, uncorrupted side of law (just like Blasted Akira with Chaos), has to dirt his hands even if it's a little bit.

And finally, Akira

As for Akira however, he doesn't say much. It's much more what others say about him rather than what he says.

What he says is how difficult it will be to take care of everyone in Tokyo (now that it's not just the people of Kasumigaseki) and how he's already tired, but he has to stay strong nonetheless.

We already made him king of Tokyo and there not much we can do other than hope for the best, now that Tokyo and its future is in his hands.

Also notice how he calls you "boss", which it's not the first time he does. I think we're pretty much a hero for him, making his biggest wish come true, which was something that would be practically impossible if it wasn't for us. Plus, it could perfectly be the only reason why he decided to stay alive and endure 25 years in an unfair and depressing Tokyo.

And well, that's everything Infernal Tokyo offers. I'm surprised how more than half of its content is inaccessible until you get locked in chaos or you defeat Lucifer in neutral. And it's quite a lot considering it's from something really hidden I didn't know it existed until not long ago.

So hey, thank you for dedicating time to read this ;)

#smtiv #smt akira #shin megami tensei iv #akira smt #smt4 #shin megami tensei #megaten #smt #megami tensei #shin megami tensei 4 #character analysis #long reads #akira #Infernal Akira

[atherix]

hello aci, critically important midnight lore question. what are everyones (mumbo, scar, grian, and anyone else you would like) favorite chores to do? (cooking, laundry, dishes, etc) and what chores (if any) would they rather dive into life threatening danger to avoid? on the off chance this is a repeat question sorry orz

Hi Chel!! <3

Oh this is a fun question :o Hmmm

Scar likes cooking, as we know by now, and would rather punt himself into the sun than do laundry (technology is pretty set back in this world so most laundry is done by hand, which Scar despises, but redstone machines are notorious for the redstone failing if the machine gets wet so redstone washers are generally seen as absolute rubbish). He hates how his hands get all pruney and go numb and afterwards they're all dry and stuff from the detergents and he ALWAYS manages to burn himself on the iron when ironing the clothes and he just despises laundry, really...

Mumbo enjoys dusting and sweeping/mopping and organizing things- he finds it calming and gives him time to think- but would rather set himself on fire than put his hands in dishwater. (He is determined to design and make a dishwasher that won't destroy the redstone components but everyone knows redstone + water is usually disastrous...) Dishwater is yucky, we all know this, but he's loathe to waste water by keeping the tap running.

Grian actually likes laundry- his talons means less wrinkly prune-feeling and his talons don't go numb from running the clothes across a washboard, and he likes the sound it makes. Because laundry's a long process at this point (again, pre-machinery, electricity is still relatively new in this world and redstone + water = bad) he likes to do it at a time when Mumbo is still asleep and Scar is either also asleep or working. Unlike Scar and Mumbo, he actually doesn't mind any chores- as long as he's not the only one doing them. Unless it's laundry, he will actively shoo the others away from laundry. It's the one chore he thoroughly enjoys. (Luckily Mumbo isn't overly attached to laundry bc the moment Grian moved in he took over LMAO)

Mmm as for others... Tubbo doesn't like doing ANY chores, but if he had to pick one it'd be taking out the trash- quick and easy. The one chore he absolutely hates, though- the one he would rather go back to Midnight Alley than do would have to be cleaning the bathroom. Scrubbing the sink, the bathtub, the toilet- he despises it. Definitely bribed someone else to do it when it appeared on his chores list for the week when he was a teen.

Cub doesn't particularly enjoy any specific chore (partly because, you know, he's the King's assistant and doesn't DO chores). This man here does less chores than a literal PRINCE (Scar) and LORD (Mumbo) and GOD (Grian) what the fuck

Lizzie is an "all the chores!!" type person but in reality she, too, enjoys cooking and hates washing dishes. Joel is indifferent to chores in general, and would rather help Lizzie cook, but he washes dishes bc Lizzie doesn't like doing it. So I guess his favorite chore is "help Lizzie/make Lizzie happy" 😌

Jimmy and Scott...... absolutely hire someone to come and clean their house once a week. They're old enough to have enough money to rival Mumbo, I think. Not Cleo, but at least Mumbo. All their chores are done at their bakery, and their favorite chore is definitely setup for the next day. Their least favorite chores are wiping down the counters where the dough was BEING prepared (Jimmy) and washing the dishes (pans and mixing bowls and stuff) (Scott).

Cleo... has other people to do chores. She's there to conduct business, manage the Coven, teach younger/newer Vampires, etc, household chores are generally performed by second, third and fourth tier Coven members (Lord's Turnlings/children, Coven Vampires (unrelated to the Lord) and Coven non-Vampires). However if we include the above among her "chores" then her favorite is teaching new Vampires how to... well... Vampire. And she would rather wrestle a basilisk than deal with the fucking Council-

BDubs likes gardening, of course. He loves maintaining the grounds of their Coven house and connecting with his Fae side. He basically helps support Cleo in his day to day life and also highly dislikes dealing with the Council, but I don't think he'd rather put himself in mortal danger than do it

Etho fucks off so much that he gets away with doing pretty much nothing one might consider a chore. Mans is just "peace out *gone*" and the sweeping's still not done. He brings new seeds home for BDubs' garden and unique and new food for the Coven Humans, though- he enjoys that.

Joe is banned from doing chores.

Ren loves doing ANY chore because he makes a game out of it, and often drags Martyn into it with him. Martyn enjoys anything to do with Renchanting and at least tolerates all other chores, but he hates cleaning the bathtub after a full moon because Ren is such a fucking puppy that when he transforms into a feral wolf with no sense of humanity left in him, instead of trying to hunt he demands Play In Water/Bath Times and thE DRAIN IS FULL OF FUR REN WHAT THE F-

Pearl hated sweeping and mopping. She just did, no real reason. She would rather fight god than sweep. Her favorite chore was to run errands, bc it got her out of the Palace for a few hours.

Grim is a typical 14 year old and groans any time you ask her to do anything (but she's also traumatized responsible and does it anyway). She haaaaaates making beds, because sheets just don't cooperate and you have to do them every day and even change them out which means fighting with sheets again and just- yeah.

Anyway I hope this vitally important Midnight Lore serves you well my friend <3

#ask #midnight series #MidnightLore #posting with friends #The Vault #<3 #long post

[dillweedshole]

I feel like i'm cooking with gas for Karrie's lore.

Karrie has different responses for people depending on who and how she's fighting them.

If Karrie's fighting Lex, they're just playing. They would never actively try to permanently harm each other (even though it's really hard for them to hurt each other anyway). If it's someone who just wants to pick a fight and nothing more, Karrie will certainly try to fight, before forfeiting for the meme.

If it's someone who actively seeks to harm Karrie or Lex (and has the capability to do so), however, this is where it gets bloody.

Karrie would insult someone's fighting skill before murdering them. She would grab them by the head, yell "SLOPPY" then brutally crush their head against the ground. "YOUR FOOTSTANCE WAS TRASH" before ripping them in half. generally more silly to those who only seek to hurt her or Lex. Karrie doesn't take those people very seriously.

she'd only go way more personal and infinitely more cruel if it were someone who personally mattered to her (i.e. a Mewtwo, a poacher, etc.)

Mewtwos are more of a special case where she wouldn't insult them directly and instead just as a whole. She seeks extinction for the species, she can't get too attached to any of them by calling them names.

With humans who have gone out of their way to hurt Pokemon (which mirrors how she came to be in the first place), she would not hold back on making their last moments insufferable, echoing the cries of the ones they hurt back to them, slowly turning into the voices of the ones they loved. If they're lucky, she won't kill them, but she will have given them lifetimes of regret and the inability to forgive themselves, alongside tethering some of these voices to the victim to make sure they never forget.

Karrie doesn't do this because she sees herself as a hero, she knows she's a horrible person, but she doesn't believe in redemption. Karrie believes that no matter what you do, how many people you help after, no matter how polite you try to be after, that won't un-hurt someone. The least she could do is ensure that the pain is inflicted back equally.

#gardevoir #karrie #pokemon

[simpfiles]

Sweet Paprika

a sexually repressed workaholic business woman enlists the services of the office’s fuqboi to help her be comfortable/confident enough sexually to seduce the man of her dreams. despite being only 12 issues the plot is jam packed with all the typical hallmark tropes but with a pg-13 rating (for the american release) and characters that hold more depth than expected.

the series is shockingly vanilla for a comic about devils and angels, which serves more for aesthetics and puns than lore or plot purposes. but there are two possible trigger warnings to be cautious about and that’s the initial slut shaming that’s prevalent through the first six issues and an emotionally manipulative ex.

the art is beautiful and stylized in a colorful cartoonish way that doesn’t take itself too seriously. it’s a shame that half of pages are over saturated by text that go to great lengths of spoon feeding the reader exposition. while the ending does resolve itself rather quickly, the journey was a fun ride. if you’re looking for a feel good comic with a happy ending then look no further. i laughed, i cried, i gave it a 4 out of 5 stars and put the spoilers part of my review below a read more.

i will come right out and admit my bias for this comic is deeply rooted in the fact that found myself projecting on to so many elements of this story it was insane. paprika’s relationship with sex, dill’s relationship with his father, anisette desire for recognition, even paprika’s trash ex, burnet, it was like mirka cherry picked aspects of my life and rewrote it into a romcom.

but aside from that, i really enjoyed how all the characters in the series whether protag or antag were given a chance to be more than just their archetype. no one is inherently all “good” or “bad” or too far beyond redemption (even brunet >:I) and speaking of characters i just want to gush over a few of the main players.

paprika. sweet sweet paprika. i love her so much. as far as romcom heroines go, she’s not as intolerantly volatile as some of the hallmark ones. i appreciate that she tries clear up misconceptions through actually talking to the other person and actually admits when she’s in the wrong (something that seems to be an impossible task for most  hallmark heroines). her need to always clarify “petting included” is also a lil fun gag.

dill. need me a dill pickle sandwich amirite?? [[BRICKED]] i shouldn’t like this man as much as i do. he has all the makings of a typical fuqboi manchild and yet his desire to be “good” and pathetic allure has me captivated. also his communicate skills are next level. he stands talls where all other romcom heroes fail and i respect him so much for that + cute doggie uwu

za’atar. look, i don’t love him but i get it. he has a nasty temper, and a perfect mixture of possessive but still respectful. i like the contrast between his romantic life vs work vs the version that paprika has made up in her head of him.it’s very multifaceted. and i LOVE how nervous in bed he is. it’s not that he’s inexperienced but gosh, what a loser. i am once again captivated.

burnet. hate him. wish he had a worst fate.

anisette. bby girl bby girl. ty mirka so much for making more complex than the Bitch(TM). she’s still an archetype but a good one. i wish her nothing but love and happiness. i enjoy that she brings out a different side of za’atar and was able to be with him without being the “second” choice.

like i said, the ending was way too rushed bu this is one series where i’m glad everyone gets a happy ending (expect for burnet. die) and that’s a testament to just how great the characters are.

#Sweet Paprika #xian #ranted up a storm on this one #but gosh i really do love it so and hope others will read it and talk about it with me #a free version is linked in the title

[moodymisty]

Hello, Jordan! I love the stories you write, at least the ones I have read (I didn’t want to spam you, so, I only reblogged one of your Crosshair stories)! I was reading your kinks and thought to myself I might have an interesting idea for a story if you are interested in it, of course!

So, I am a big fan of Alpha (ARC Commander Alpha from the comics) and Captain Fordo (From the 2003 cartoon). I haven’t seen you write for them, or talk of them, but your bio says you are a reader of the lore, if I am lucky enough would you be willing to write my thot for one of them? If not, that is fine.

Here is the idea:

The female reader is one of many civilians that join the Republic military following the first year of the war, and she trains and fights alongside (your choice of clone). She often disappears to remote areas of the base or Star Destroyer to write her own fantasies of being with (choice of clone). But this time, she can’t seem to find her data pad (I think that’s what it is called) in her footlocker that sat in front of her bunk. Not wanting to ask anyone who was in the barracks, she slightly panics until (choice of clone) clears his throat. Turning around slowly, she is horrified to see her data pad in the hands of the clone she often masturbated too.

-end

I was going over the kinks you have listed and picked out a few. I used their numbers so, please forgive me for being lazy. Of course, you can pick and choose, mix, and match. Since I picked them based off what I know or feel like these particular clones are like.

3, 9, 13, 18, 20, 25, 34, 40 and 41, 54, and lastly 72. 🤣🤣🤣🤣

With much love,

Notthatfanfictionwriter

Author's Note: Awww I'm so honored you like my stuff!! And don't worry about spamming me, it flatters me so much to see people people spamming my notifs i take it as a compliment. Lord knows i've done it before to people on this webbed site. ALSO.... fordofordofordofordofordo I love Alpha but Fordo. This was a fun experiment in making the smuttiness in the form of daydreams/thoughts, rather than actually happening. I hope you and everyone else enjoys the style change. I've also never written for Fordo before, so I hope it's ok...;

Relationships: Fordo/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Oral (Male receiving), a tiny reference to Face fucking, a tiny bit of dirty talking/voice kink, daydreaming,

''You're going to shoot yourself in the foot one day, if you keep whipping your blasters around like that."

Packing up your rifle in it's case, you look over to the clones beside you; Oone of whom was playing around with his blasters in a way that was a bit too reckless for your liking. He gives you a bit of a dirty look, while one of the other clones in his group claps his hands together and prays: 'Please let that happen please, that would be hilarious'.

His reaction makes you let out a chuff of air as a laugh, while his friend basks in his irritation. Turning away, you call the target plate you'd been using back to you, so you can clean and finish up. It's absolutely full of holes and well used, throwing it in the trash now that you're done training on it.

Maybe it would be a stretch to call it training however; As it's more just keeping yourself entertained and from getting even the tiniest bit rusty. Hyperspace is boring, especially when there isn't much to entertain yourself on a ship this large. At least planet side on base, you have some fresh air and maybe if you're lucky, you'll see a rare animal or two.

Taking your rifle case and leaving the practice range, it's a struggle to not let all the white and grey of the walls, ceiling, and floors, all blend into a blurry mess. It's quite late and the ships lights are dimmed slightly lower, in a way to poorly simulate a regular day night cycle. As such, it's late. You don't know how many hours it's been since you've last gotten some rest, but it's long enough that you're going to make a straight line right to your tiny little broom closet of a room, and lay down.

"You're going somewhere fast,"

You only look up one you realize they're speaking to you, seeing familiar red painted armor. One of Fordo's men, judging by the particular markings. His standing guard at his station at the crossroads of two hallways, the other person that should be with him seems to be missing from his post at the moment.

"Got bored at the range, and no one's roped me into training against yet. So I'm gonna try and get some shut eye." The trooper nods, his one note chuckle distorted ever so slightly be the reverb of his helmet.

"Don't let me keep you." You wouldn't mind having a chat but, unfortunately your thin, cold bed is a bit more tempting at the moment.

"Tell Fordo I said hi?" His hands shift on his rifle, nodding. "Will do. I'm sure he'll be glad to hear it." Nodding you take your leave, not keeping the trooper from his duties any longer.

While it can admittedly be a bit lonely at times being one of a few civilian fighters aboard a vessel full to the brim with clones, but at least you have your barracks to get away from it sometimes. A nice part about it being that only half of the beds in it have actually been claimed, and with the ship's work rotations always moving, it's not uncommon for you to be completely alone at times.

Punching in the code and entering once again it seems everyone's gone, at least until someone has the same idea as you to steal a little time for yourself. On a Venator class ship you're always on call, but at least for this moment, you're free. It probably won't last long at all but at least you can enjoy this moment of freedom, for as long as you have it.

Grabbing your personal datapad from your locker you decide that in your rare moment you'd work on a bit of a personal hobby. Maybe you can write a little bit before you get too tired to keep your eyes open.

It's more a guilty pleasure than anything; Some self indulgence during a phase where you have little to no time to yourself.

None of this will ever, ever see any eyes beyond yours, as it's meant just for you to enjoy.

It would be mortifying for anyone to lay eyes on it, just in general, let alone if they realized the main male character served as little more than a fog over what was pretty much Fordo down to the atom.

Gods, you were inconsolable. In the dark writing dirty little stories about you and the man you're infatuated with, your commanding officer, you might as well hide under the covers and sneak around as if trying not to get caught.

Opening the current thing you've been toiling away on you read all the way to where you had previously stopped; Right before things were starting to get good. Biting the inside of your cheek your fingers slowly type, trying to put your sordid thoughts to words.

The heat of your breath brushes over the harsh material of his armor, almost fogging it. You can feel his gloved hand on you, cradling the crown of your head with a firm pressure. He keeps that pressure, ever increasing, until your lips drag against the fabric of his flightsuit. The waterline of your bottom lip touches the fabric just for a moment, leaving a tiny darkened stain of spit.

The room has been nearly silent other than two sets of gentle breathes, but when he finally does speak, the deep rumble of his voice cuts through the still air like a vibroknife. It makes your thighs tense, pressing together as you feel the thumb of your heart beat in your cunt.

"Take it off for me. Or do you like the feeling?"

He doesn't have a name, but whenever you imagine him- it's always Fordo. It's so desperate and almost pathetic, but at least you keep your thoughts jotted down here instead of making a fool of yourself in the field.

Clumsy hands freeing his cock from the fabric you can feel the heat of it against your face; Against your lips as your wrap them around the tip. That unique taste, tongue against the head of his cock. His hand doesn't shove your head down to gag on him, but instead just serves as a weight, firm guidance as your lips slide down towards the base.

He keeps it slow, steady listening to the way your mouth makes the wettest, lewdest sounds as his hips twitch upward towards your mouth. He's only a small bit of pressure away from taking complete control, his chest rising and falling faster as he lets out a groan.

"Kriff; Come on, you can take a bit more. I know you can."

You know Fordo isn't talkative. He often times rarely if ever speaks until he absolutely has to. Would that change when he's exposed like this? Or would he continue to be a stalwart, silent man- peering down at you between his thighs?

Neither option is less preferable, but it's impossible to deny the desire to have your Commander 'command' you. That stern voice, maybe distorted by the echo of his helmet, or perhaps not, telling you in intimate detail what he wants you to do to him. Or what he wants to do to you.

Your mouth takes as much of him as you possibly can, the wet heat of your mouth pulling a low, shaking groan from him. Suddenly however he grips your hair and begins to pull you off of his cock, looking down at little stains of spit that dot either corner of your mouth.

"Enough of that. On the desk."

You can't resist the way your thighs press together just a little bit more at the ghostly voice of Fordo in your head saying such things.

Not as if there was ever a single bit of hesitation in your mind, you quickly come up off your knees, standing in front of him in the small space between his chair and the desk. With one hop you move to sit on it and watch as he stands, filling the space between your thighs. His hips force them to spread wider, hands moving to grip your hips and pull you close enough that you teeter just on the edge, grinding against him. You can feel the weight of his cock against your thigh, slick with your own spit.

His own hand lines himself up with your entrance, the other still harshly gripping your hip as he slowly, slowly-

Suddenly, a voice interrupts you from your thoughts before you can continue with them.

"Captain Fordo is requesting you in his quarters. Something about your next mission."

Your head suddenly turns on a swivel, only to see a trooper standing in the doorway of your small barracks. He's delivered his order and takes his leave before you even have a chance to recover from your surprise.

You have to go, as much as you might want to finish up what you'd been in the middle of. You decide to just roughly jot down the rest of what's in your mind, just so you don't forget.

Throwing your legs off the side of the bunk they hit the ground with a soft thud. You've been there multiple times, but not for anything close to the lewdness you think up when it's late. He's probably just going to update you on some innocuous report, before then dismissing you. As much as you would hope it would be a little bit more exciting.

Arriving and opening the door to his quarters it's the exact same as the last time you'd been here; Sparce and devoid of anything beyond the bare necessities. Not uncommon, for clone quarters. Fordo is standing close to the small desk towards the side of the room, looking up when he notices you. The way he perks up slightly isn't lost on you, though he presumably is just surprised to see you here so quickly.

And in usual nature for Fordo, he's right to the point.

"We're exiting hyperspace soon. When we drop planetside, I'd like you to take sniper support. Since our usual is still in the medbay."

Seems simple enough. You nod, making a mental note to give your rifle a once over before you head out. Not that it needs it, but you enjoy the peace of mind the action gives you. Better safe then sorry.

"Sure thing. I'll be ready by then."

He expects no less than that from you, and you haven't let him down once yet. He watches you leave, the door closing behind you. He has no need to lock it, so instead he sits back down in his chair, leaning back ever so slightly. Dark brown eyes glance to the left, and notice something unfamiliar resting on the corner of the desk.

She left her datapad here? Picking it up Fordo glances over the unlocked screen, before deciding to take a look. He doesn't really see any innate harm from it, until he starts reading and realizes just what he's gotten into.

The flush of her skin, it feels so hot to the touch it might almost boil. His cock feels almost in her stomach, impossibly deep and stretching her perfectly. Every move he makes the sound of skin on armor echoes in the small, cold confines of the room, now filled with the scent of sex.

He's rough; You feel any harder and he's going to leave marks. On your hips, thighs, the way his teeth scrape against the exposed skin of your neck.

Fordo in all his stalwart nature falters, reading the lewd words you'd written up and feels his face getting a bit hot.

The edge of the desk digging into your stomach it's impossible not to hear the way it groans until the battering it's taking, as he fucks you almost into the desk itself. Your hands grip the edge like it's a lifeline, toes curling in your boots as you feel your own wet arousal slick against your outer lips and almost leaking down your inner thighs.

"F-For-" A rough thrust of his hips cuts off your words before you even have a chance to speak them. Your legs tighten around him even has the edges of his armor rub uncomfortably against your skin, but you're too foggy minded by the way he's fucking you to care in the slightest.

You'd slipped up; And while you'd avoided using any names through hundreds, even thousands of words, you forgot and habitually wrote his name in once.

It's... Enlightening.

Fordo has long thought his secret affections for you were largely nonsense and had relegated them to a secured lockbox at the back of his head, so to see that it seems to go both ways, he's nervous but, hopeful.

He keeps reading, and soon finds himself immersed in your daydreams like they're his own.

You get back to your barracks in record time, still apt to finish your little daydream before you have to purge it from your mind again. The light flicks on the moment it sees motion, walking in the direction of your bunk. But when you reach to grab your datapad and get back to your little moment of self indulgence, you notice that it's nowhere to be seen.

Oh shit.

Where is it? You swore you'd left it here when you had gone to talk to Fordo, but then you remember that it had been in your hands, and the only option is that you'd left it behind in his quarters.

Which is an actual nightmare scenario, considering what is on it. There's more than a fair share of things you'd never want anyone to see, let alone him. You just hope you can get it back, before he gets a little bit curious. As no matter how cut and by the rules Fordo is, curiosity is a tempting beast.

Bursting off the bunk you quickly race down the halls backtracking all the way to Fordo, where you quickly open the still unlocked door. Once you do, you see the red paint of his armor, along with something in his hands. It seems like your nightmare has come true, even as you speak as if attempting to see that you've misread what is happening in front of you.

"Fordo? What are you-" He gets up from his seat, still holding the piece of technology in his hands.

"You left this behind." Your entire body freezes up. You can tell by the way he isn't exactly meeting your gaze that he absolutely saw what was on it, at minimum what you were currently working on. Gently taking it from his hands you hold it close, pursing your lips.

"You are a very good writer. At least, as far as my experience goes." Fordo hasn't exactly had the time to read to many things beyond reports in his time.

He, decides not to bring up where he'd glossed over his name, but instead uses it as fuel to say something he'd been hoping to gather up the courage to do for quite awhile.

He'll have to keep it a secret but; Kriff it. He wants a day off. With you.

"When we're back planet side, how about we get a drink." You're still wide eyed holding your datapad close, but can't help but nod.

Well, this all turned out a bit different than you'd expected. Not that you're complaining.

"Yeah, sure. I'd like that."

#captain fordo x reader #the clone wars 2003 #Captain Fordo/Reader #reader insert #reader #mywriting

[givemewallywestorgivemedeath]

How do you feel about the various Marvel speedsters, most prominent of course being Quicksilver but also Northstar, Makkari and Speed?

Speed is baby and I love him. Seriously though I've been a Tommy fan for a long time. House of M was one of the first comics I've ever read. My parents took me to a comic book store and I hand picked it out of all the others. It was the first comic I chose to buy (albeit with my parent's money because I was a child). My younger brother was in the hospital at the time, he's better now but at the time it was hit or miss, and I was keeping him company so they wanted me to have something to read while he was comatose. I think I read that book front to back 50 times. Despite its faults House of M will always have a special place in my heart because of that.

The whole convoluted mess that is the Maximoff family is fantastic. Pietro and Tommy included. I'm particularly a fan of Speed though. He's great in the Young Avengers and whenever he shows up with Prodigy and I just really really really like the guy. He's like a kicked puppy in the rain. I wanna give him a blanket and food and another puppy to be friends with. He's so sad.

Pietro I like but in a 'oh my god he's such a fuck up, ain't he great?' kinda way. I really love him. He is such a fuck up though I swear to god. It's different from Tommy too. Tommy is a kid who just wants stability and love and is terrified of being hurt. His 'bad decisions' are a thinly veiled mask for a traumatized kid. But Pietro??? Pietro wakes up and says 'today I'm going to make the worst decisions possible' and then he does it. He kidnapped his daughter at one point, which almost caused a war, and then drugged her, with sacred religious and volatile drugs he stole, to give her powers, which could have killed her. He makes very bad decisions.

Northstar is a bit of an asshole. I'm going to be honest here... I'm not really a Northstar fan. I think it kinda defeats the purpose of Marvel having speedsters in the first place if Northstar is ten times faster than them. It'd be like if Superman was faster than the Flash. It just kinda sucks the air out of Marvel speedsters in general. Like, cool, this random mutant can fly way faster than the speedsters and they have no chance in hell at being faster than him. That's great I guess.

Makkari I'm not super familiar with. I do like Marvel but I definitely don't have the same in-depth knowledge on Marvel lore as I do for DC lore.

Oh also there's Speedball. I think he would count as a speedster? It's been a while since I've read his stuff. If I remember correctly he absorbs energy and then uses it to bounce around at superspeed and create kinetic energy fields. He's connected to space and time and he can control kinetic energy and motion. He can control his molecules and one time he used his kinetic energy to make a suit. He doesn't run but he's still the closest thing Marvel has to a DC speedster.

It is.... extremely unfortunate what happened to him. They took a good, fun loving, nice, happy and wholesome guy and made him the catalyst for Civil War. Had him be responsible for a city blowing up. Took this sweet kind guy and made him a reckless asshole who killed thousands. Then they gave him an edgy make over and had him come back as the darker meaner bader version of himself. Anyway. I was a Speedball fan. Civil War trashed his character though.

#i do appreciate though that Quicksilver Speed and Northstar are all canonically queer though #Marvel is ahead of DC in that regard #marvel doesn't really have a speedster brand though. not like dc. marvel never really developed one #Tommy would be their best best imo. he's actually likable and he hasn't committed war crimes #i think part of the issue is that dc flash fans like the personality and heart. they aren't drawn specifically to superspeed #so dc flash fans would probably be spiderman fans when it comes to marvel #marvel made speedsters but they didn't inbue them with the qualities that make the flash franchise so popular #people like marvel speedsters for other reasons but the key part is that they couldn't capitalize on flash fans #again i think Tommy would be their best bet for that. start him off where he is now and develop his character. have him grow and learn #i wanna see tommy do stuff #also marvel put speedball back the way he was i stg