#Politely Sage fuck you
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brace yourselves it's the "emotional damage" page
no cuz the absolute TERROR here in poor Jekyll's eyes… and the apple guy is now reporting him along with the Blackfog crew which means he now knows that being seen with them would not only mean himself getting captured, but them as well. Yeah maybe the Blackfog crew can break out but Hyde cannot, also meaning that he wouldn't be able to compensate them.
when I tell you my heart fucking SANK when I saw this panel. I knew it was coming. I called it hours before the update. And yet it still hurt like a hole through my heart (hahah get it-)
LITERALLY HE WOKE UP AND FOUND OUT HIS BOYFRIEND WASN'T THERE AFTER ALL THEY HAD TOGETHER LAST NIGHT-
I think that little "…darling?" just ripped apart my heart to shreds, stepped on it, burnt it and scattered the ashes to the wind…
Honestly Jekyll was really nothing more than just a massive asshole to leave without even a note, making Lanyon think he's left all over again, for no apparent reason this time. Jekyll literally cannot explain his way out of this without revealing his secret about Hyde and you know what? He deserves it.
Also who's ringing the doorbell? The police? "I'm sorry sir but we are here because you are guilty of gay sex." ????
#literally my hands were frozen with shock#the glass scientists#I knew#I fucking knew#and yet it still hurt#kkat's monday rants#tgs update#tgs spoilers#Politely Sage fuck you
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And speaking of scurvy, I am eternally amused by the thing where some ancient form of healing that was born in a time where people didn't know exactly how the human body works, or what causes it to stop working sometimes, that still somehow worked. Like how so many old folk medicinal plants were listed as a cure for various ailments that - from a modern view - are clearly just symptoms of scurvy, and the plant itself is rich in vitamin C.
I recall reading some story, no recollection of the exact time or place, where the king of a large empire suffered from constant horrible headaches and was incapable of falling asleep unless drugged or blackout drunk. Sick of taking temporary fixes to dull the pain and having to be sedated every night, he called up some old sage healer who was said to know how to fix things nobody else could explain, and the healer heard his symptoms and went
"Hmm. You spend too much time being a king. Your skull is packed so full of kingly thoughts that they don't all fit in there and that's why your head is in pain. You need to spend time not being a king." And prescribed him to schedule three days every month where he must go to a peasant village where nobody knows he's the king, live with a family there under a fake name and identity, work in the rice fields with them, eating the same food and sleeping on the same mats. Absolutely nobody is allowed to address him as the king, speak to him of any royal or political matters, and he himself is not allowed to think any kingly thoughts or think of himself as the king.
And naturally, this worked. Taking a regular scheduled break from a highly stressful office desk job to completely decompress, paired with physical exercise in the form of hard but simple physical labour, plain and simple food and Just Not Thinking About Your Fucking Job All The Time does help chronic stress, which here was worded as "spending too much time being a king clogs your brain."
Sometimes you do have ghosts in your blood, though I'm not entirely sure whether you should do cocaine about it.
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Bikinis On Top (OPLA Bikini Headcannons)
Seeing their bbygrl in a bikini opla headcannons
THis gets a lil RISQUE soooo 18+
Hey youguys i know its been a while lol I've been s swamped with work and Enjoy this in honor of hot girl summer approaching lmao I promise I'm getting back into eh groove of writing!
alos pls excuse spelling errors yall know me lmao
Luffy
-It’s hot and his shirts are open 9 times out of 10 so
-He was a bit stunned to see you with one of Nami's bikini tops adorning your chest with a nice pair of jean shorts.
-Boobs boobs boobs boobs boobs
-He's really trying to act normal but you can always tell when those big brown eyes start shifting from your face to your chest. And he always has that goofy grin on his face
-Strongly believe he's the type to impulsively bite them. lmao like literally grab two handfuls and CHOMP.
-He always was more of a boobs guy.
Zoro
-"Where's the rest of your shirt."
-He’s got his eyes skillfully flickering from your chest to your eyes then to you collar bone and again.
-“You don’t like me showing them off?” You question, slipping past him with a smile
-the funny thing is, you’re not talking about your boobs. You’re talking about the bites and hickeys he skillfully placed along them
-crazy how near the end of the day, the only thing the crew can seem to find as a trace of you is the discarded bikini top
Sanji
-He helped you tie it this morning when the sun had first been shining to brightly into your room, heating both of you up.
-personally, Sanji likes it when you wear the full piece, the straps of your bottoms just barely peaking out from the low-rise jeans you've got on.
-He also is one to pull your strings when you're also so the top just falls down to reveal the girls
-Is the type to lift you up out of the pool and set you up to sit on the steps like the goddess you are and just admire.
Usopp
-matching swimsuit set matching swimsuit set matching swimsuit set
-He always likes seeing you in a nice brown or sage green two-piece.
-won't say anything but wow when he sees you and smiles.
-Keep it polite but just know his hugs from behind will always end with him pulling at your bottom straps and letting them snap against your skin.
"USOPP!" You yelp, narrowing your brows at him while you massage the spot.
"Ok ok, i'm sorry mommas" He chuckles, pressing a kiss to the affected area, his large hands massaging the flesh of your thighs.
Nami
-Strictly a bikini gf and wifebeater+swim trunks gf duo lmao
-This can go either way actually. If she feels like a bikini kinda day it's gonna be a bright orange or a pure white with a sunhat and a nice flowy cover-up
-A she can't and won't make it easy for you to keep your hands off her,
-If YOU are in the bikini and she's in the swim trunks she REFUSES to keep her hands off you. She knows her girl looks good asf.
-Expect to have your ass smacked.
Shanks
-Is definitely keeping you on his lap while everyone else is splashing around. It was a pretty chill day and everyone decided hey why not go for a swim
"Can I please get in the water Shanks?" You sigh, pulling the strings of his swim trunks as he smiles and gives a quick "Nuh-uh"
-"Your ass looks too good. Just stay here a little longer hm?" he asks, squeezing your thighs, pressing kisses to your shoulder.
-He doesn't waste time taking you somewhere secluded to pull those bottoms to the side, somehow loving the way your ass looks in those bottoms every time he thrusts
Mihawk
-He personally likes it when you wear one of that cute pinup like 50's monokinis? And some wedges with a bandana. UGH he's gonna be right there with you avoiding the sun under the umbrella (that pale ass skin lmao)
-Will 100% lather you in sunscreen and just paper your shoulder with kisses.
-He's not taking you to eh pool he's taking you to the beach and you're just sitting together, enjoying one another company
-"I'm fucking you within an inch of your life after this." H admits in monotone, skin already starting to darken in a tan
-"Yes splendid." You reply still resting, enjoying the faint heat of the sun.
Buggy
-HAHAAAAAA this man will tear it off and then feel bad and get you another one...just to tear that off too
-is a sucker for the bikinis with anything on the boobs lmao he thinks they look like targets
-I like to think that ocean water is the only thing like that is an issue lmao so it is safe to say he's in the pool every summer, roughhousing with you and the rest of his crew
-I mean just a bunch of fucking kids lmao, macro polo, chicken fight, pretending to be a shark, you name it
-accidentally caused a nip slip tho and yelled for everyone to look away while shielding his girl.
#x reader#one piece#reader is black#one piece live action#i don't care he's hot#headcannons#one piece x reader#opla#hes so hot#opla sanji x reader#opla zoro x reader#opla usopp x reader#nami x reader#opla shanks x reader#opla mihawk x reader#opla buggy x reader#sanji x reader#zoro x reader#usopp x reader#shanks x reader#opla luffy x reader#luffy x reader#Buggy x reader#mihawk x reader
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02. ACROSS THE UNIVERSE . . . dazai tries to make up for lost time by taking you out to dinner.
ft. beast!dazai + f!reader, pm boss!dazai, civilian!reader, lovesick dazai, possessive behavior, implied stalking (he keeps tabs on you & has pics of you), spoilers for beast au light novel & manga, 2.3k w.c.
SERIES MASTERLIST
the walk from the elevator to dazai’s office is long. his footsteps are loud against the hallway floor, lined with armed guards who stand completely silent and still. they don’t dare to move a muscle as dazai passes them, his black coat fluttering behind him with every step he takes.
“gin-chan,” he calls as he nears his door, and the girl turns to him expectantly. he beckons her to follow him with a curved finger, and she trails behind him into his office. he stands before his floor to ceiling window, a glass wall that reveals all of the city. he looks out over yokohama’s skyline, buildings silhouetted against a clear blue sky, with his hands folded behind his back. “cancel any appointments i have scheduled for tomorrow. inform the executives i’ll be unavailable, too.”
she bows politely as he dismisses her with a lazy wave of his hand, watching her leave through the reflection of the glass, waiting to hear the soft click of his office’s mahogany doors closing behind her.
in the isolation of his office, a smile breaks out on his face. he collapses into his chair, cradling his cheeks in his palms, aching and rosy with joy. he couldn’t believe you agreed to go out with him; you always were too trusting, weren’t you?
he giggles, swarms of butterflies fluttering against his ribs and tickling his stomach. he wonders what you’ll wear; he recalls an image of you in a strappy little black dress during a night out with your friends a few months ago, and twirls himself towards his desk to search through his locked drawer, the one with the false bottom.
his phone rings from inside his coat pocket, and he doesn’t even look at who it is before he answers, his smile still on his face as he rummages through old notebooks and files. “yes?”
“you ‘won’t be available’?” chuuya scoffs. “what?”
dazai sighs dramatically, like the sound of his voice exhausted him. “i have a date to prepare for.”
“the fuck are you talking about?” he asks, voice curious despite his choice of words. “a date?”
“yes, chuuya. are you unfamiliar with the concept?”
“shut up. you’re going out with a stranger? without anyone to protect you?”
“she isn’t a stranger,” his voice turns cold, a stark contrast from his teasing tone.
“who the hell would ever go out with you?”
“don’t worry,” he grins, holding the phone between his cheek and shoulder, rustling through the drawer with more control. “you’ll meet her soon enough.”
he hears a muffled freak before the phone line goes dead.
he finally finds what he’s been looking for. he pulls a large envelope out, carefully unraveling the twine that holds it closed. he opens it, filled with all of the images he’s collected of you: sunbathing at the beach with your friends, picking up takeout after a late night at work, the wind blowing your hair into your eyes just as you’re leaving the bookstore. he sifts through them all with care before he finally finds the one he was thinking of. he sighs dreamily, tracing the curve of your body with his finger. his eyes never leave it, even as he presses the call button on his desk.
“actually, gin-chan,” he hums, still smiling at the photo. “one more thing. order a bouquet. have it delivered tomorrow afternoon. fourーno, five dozen red roses.”
he wears a suit; not one used for work, this was far too special for that. this one is untainted, only brought out of his closet and into the light of day to be freshly dry-cleaned and pressed. it’s not black the way his other suits were, this one is a deep chocolate brown with a wrinkle-free white button-down shirt and a black tie tucked beneath a sage green vest.
he lingers in front of his mirror, draping his coat over his shoulders, then sliding his arms through the sleeves. he tilts his head, he pulls on his collar, he straightens his tie. he’s never been so critical about his appearance before. he brushes his hand through his hair, glaring at his reflection when his fingers catch on knotted, neglected strands. he suddenly recalls a moment that isn’t his; it was before a gala for the agency when you trailed your fingertips along the curve of his cheek, brushing his hair back and whispering affectionate words about how handsome he was against his lips. he decides to tuck his bangs behind his ear.
even before he sends his driver off, he checks himself one last time in the reflection of the tinted car windows. he stands before the finest restaurant in the port mafia’s territory; it was no problem to request it be closed down for the two of you, being under the mafia’s protection.
when he sees another familiar black car arrive, he perks up. you step out, looking a bit dazed. you’re not wearing the black dress from the photo; no, he’s never seen this one before. it hugs your body perfectly, and the way the fabric contours your curves leaves him absolutely enchanted. he grins, imagining you picking it out to wear just for him.
“i can’t believe you got a fancy car to pick me up from the train station,” you laugh breathlessly, more out of shock than amusement. “this is the craziest first date i’ve ever been on.”
something suffocating crawls up his throat as he imagines you going out with someone other than him. he exhales shakily, but conceals it with a smile as he holds the bouquet out for you.
your eyes widen at the sight of the roses, scarlet petals and emerald stems bundled in smooth matte paper and tied with a silk ribbon. your fingers brush against his as you take it from him, and he beams as you cradle it in the nook of your arm.
“thank you,” you smile up at him nervously, the bouquet nearly engulfing your form. “you look handsome. i’m not sure if i dressed fancy enough for this.”
“you look perfect,” he smiles, offering you his elbow. you are perfect.
your pretty fingers wrap around his arm, and your touch seers his skin through his clothing as he guides you inside. the ceiling is lined with glistening chandeliers, soft spots of light illuminating the velvet black that coats the restaurant. soft linen hangs off all the tables’ corners, plated with shiny porcelain dinnerware and delicate crystal glasses. he leads you to the one enveloped in flickering candlelight, tucked away intimately in the corner of the large dining room.
“oh my god,” you gasp, the sparkling light reflected in your wide eyes. “what exactly do you do for a living?”
he holds a finger up to his grinning lips, reaching for a menu. it’s only a single, thick page and you take it from him gingerly. he pulls a bottle of champagne from its home in the metal bucket at the corner of the table, ice cubes shifting to fill the gap it left behind. he pours your glass before his own, catching your gaze as you eye him shyly over the top of the edge of the menu.
“i’m not sure what to get…” you say softly. “i’ve never been somewhere like this before.”
“don’t worry,” he rests his chin on his folded hands. “i’ll pick something i know you’ll love.”
the food comes and goes. he couldn’t tell you what it tasted like, all he could focus on is the pretty girl in front of him. he’s the most dangerous man in yokohama, the puppeteer of its underworld; he has anything he could desire at his fingertips yet all he could possibly want is you, looking at him like this forever.
your eyes never leave him, and he could swear there’d be stars glistening in your pupils like their own secret universe if he looked close enough. you hang on to his every word, and you don’t even mind when he reaches across the table and slides his fingers in between your own. he thinks your palms fit together like two puzzle pieces; not molded around each other over time, but made with the purpose of being bonded to one another.
“you know, your hair looks really good like that,” you say softly, your eyes trailing over his face. he hopes the reason your pupils are dilated isn’t just from the dark lighting. it’s the same enamored look he catches glimpses of in his memory, when you’re hidden beneath the dim lighting of bar lupin, both of you too young to be drinking but doing it anyway.
“oh! i almost forgot to tell you!” he taps the edge of the table in lieu of clapping, not wanting to let go of your hand. he knows you won’t remember, but he can’t help but get excited at the thought of seeing that fond yet exasperated look on your face with his own two eyes. “i’ve been trying to make the firmest tofu. i finally succeeded!”
“really? maybe i can try it next time.”
next time. you want a next time with him. he wonders if you know he’d give you the rest of his life if you asked for it.
you were more than happy to talk to him, and it almost made it feel like you weren’t just two strangers eating dinner together. it didn’t matter to him that he already knew everything you were telling him. he loved listening to the sound of your voice.
your cheeks dimple as you smile, playing with his fingers as you tell him about how you finished your degree last month. he can’t help but swell with pride; he already knew, of course. the file he had personally made on you had only grown over the years with all of the little details he’d secretly collected about you.
it’s when you’re talking about a book you recently read that he begins to lose focus. he watches the way your lips shape around every syllable, but he can’t help but think about odasaku, how you two would’ve gotten along so nicely. it didn’t seem like you’d get the opportunity to meet him in any universe.
“are you okay?” you ask softly, your nails tracing the soft indent of his heart line across his palm.
“of course i’m okay,” he smiles so quickly, it’s as if nothing was ever wrong. quieter, he says, “how could i not be when i’m with you?”
“talk to me?” your voice is so sweet, and he inhales deep enough that he feels his stomach expand against the waistband of his pants. “i’m a good listener.”
“i have a friend,” he starts, his gaze falling down to the table. “he wasーis a writer, a really good one.”
“has he published anything?” you ask around a sip of your glass. “i’d love to read something of his.”
“me too,” he sighs, and you tilt your head curiously. “i’m afraid we…don’t speak anymore.”
your sympathetic gaze makes his chest tighten, something invisible constricting around his lungs until it’s hard for him to breathe. the last thing he wanted was for you to pity him, not now.
“it seems like he had an impact on you,” you squeeze his hand between yours once more. “i’m sure he still thinks about you and misses you as well.”
he had to resist every desperate instinct in his body that told him to throw the table aside and kiss you right there.
you’ve made it to dessert, and dazai swears he’s never been happier in his miserable life than right now; this was all going so much better than he could’ve ever imagined. you brighten when the waiter places a small plate in front of you, carrying a piece of cake cut into a perfect rectangle and drizzled with sugary sweetness. he watches the way your pretty lips curl into a smile against the prongs of your fork as you taste it. some frosting smears against the corner of your mouth. he reaches across the table and swipes it away with his thumb, grazing your lips.
you freeze, eyes wide and blinking as you stare at him. the warmth of your cheeks spreads against his palm, and he greedily lets his hand linger as long as he appropriately can before he pulls back.
he thought it’d be painful to say goodbye at the end of the night, unsure how many more moments like this the universe would allow him to indulge in before it ripped you away from his grasp, but he can’t stop himself from smiling as you wrap your arms around him when you walk out of the restaurant, cheeks rosy from the champagne and the winter breeze.
you tug his hand gently, trailing your own up his arm until you can tug on the lapels of his coat and pull him to a stop. when you push your lips to his beneath the glittering lights of yokohama, he nearly bursts into tears. all his hair raises against the cotton of his bandages as you slide your arms across his shoulders, and he presses against your lower back until you’re flush against him. he can’t believe this is really happening to him; he waits, ready to wake up alone from some cruel dream, but he doesn’t. there’s no chill from the empty sheets next to him or the plush of his pillow against his head. it’s only you, with the sweet smell of your perfume and your soft tongue trailing along his bottom lip.
you pull on his tie, wrapping the fabric around your palm until your thumb is close enough to smooth against the knot, the tip of your nose brushing against his.
“would it be too forward of me…” you kiss him again, pulling away just enough to mumble the rest of your sentence. “...to ask such a pretty boy back to my apartment?”
he grins, cupping your cheeks and pulling you back to his mouth.
BSD MASTERLIST
taglist . . . @dazaichuuya69 @dazaisfavgf @annoyingpainterprincess @avocate-assia-dazai @kissesmellow21 @ceranchi @walking-simp @starmaiya11 @liliavalentine @seimpathyopera @little-miss-chaoss @17cherries @getoso @s1eepybunny @auraxins @anqelically @kentopedia @causenessus @aureatchi @fyotherat @sigmoon @dazaisgrl @vicsxwy @yyyxti @dazedflvr @ryunosnke @humsamu @ko-fi-heart @angelzai @ttaehyxx @n31ly0ung @msunknown911 @cyndaquels
#💌 . . . with love mai ⊹ ࣪ ˖#dazai x reader#bsd x reader#dazai osamu x reader#bungou stray dogs x reader#dazai x you#dazai imagines#dazai x y/n#bsd x you#bsd fluff#dazai fluff#bsd x y/n
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Monster Mayhem: Lion's Pride [Part 3]
Gender Neutral Reader x Leona Kingscholar
Word Count: 6.2k
Summary: Your new job as a Full Time Royal Therapist does not pay nearly as well as you'd like. Or, Leona is more of a problem child than he would ever admit, but you're surprisingly okay at dealing with that.
[PART 1][PART 2] [PART 3]
Sometimes you felt like you hardly knew what it meant to be a functional person, living a comfortable life on the fringes of society. So in comparison, trying to think of what it meant to be an actual prince, ruling over all of said society was something you literally could not comprehend no matter how hard you tried to wrap your head around it.
“If you’re a Prince, what were you doing in a hole?” you asked, because you had far too many questions and concerns, and this one at least seemed easy enough to address. And also because you were genuinely pretty curious.
The newly dubbed ‘Leona’ twitched against your back and you felt the low rumble of his snarl work its way from the depths of his gut all the way up through his chest and out his mouth.
“Holy shit,” Ace wheezed. “Screw this. I’m getting out of here before I wind up implicated as an accessory in your murder.”
And so your trusty friend abandoned you to the wolves lions?—darting away so quickly he always forget his bag, shoes, and everything else in the process.
You waved after him as he departed, knowing full well that he’d wind up stumbling back within the week, maybe two at most. He always did, no matter how much he complained about your Present Company. Plain old ‘murder’ was actually one of his more polite accusations. When he’d run into your Hunter friend the first time, Ace had gone on a wildly incoherent rant about how he was going to find your corpse strung up in a tree like some weird, ritual, sacrifice. And then that had devolved into something-something cannibalism or other. The visiting Hunter had just thrown his head back and laughed, positively enamored with the grisliness of it all. Ace had vanished for almost an entire month after that encounter, but he did come back—glaring up at you with a miserable pout like you were the one who’d gone and fucked off for thirty whole days.
Leona snorted and you felt the puff of breath against the back of your neck.
“Coward,” he grumbled, though he didn’t sound particularly displeased about your friend’s sudden departure.
“Fear lets us be brave,” you responded, wise as a sage. Or maybe an old frog in a puddle.
“Yeah?” he intoned, rolling his eyes. “And when’s that little rat ever been brave?”
“There’s always tomorrow,” you chirped, and that snort turned into something dangerously close to a chuckle. Which—gasp!—how dare such a pleasant sound fall from the lips of someone so obstinately determined to be otherwise! You grinned at the low tones of it, only for the snickering to cut off sharply in his throat once he’d realized what he was doing. And then of course he shoved you forward and out of his lap with a great amount of indignant snarling.
You laid there for a few minutes—face down in the sun-warmed grass and laughing quietly about just how ridiculous this stupid Lion was, before finally sitting up with a pleasant stretch. He could put on airs all he liked, you knew there was kernel of something far less angsty and murderous buried at the heart of him.
“So,” you hummed, lazily making your way back to your feet. “What exactly have I done to draw the realm’s Prince to my doorstep?” You squinted at him suspiciously. “You’re not here about the fairy gate thing, are you? Because that was actually an accident.”
“The what?” he frowned, brow pinched in confusion.
You waved him off. “Ah, nothing, nothing.”
Something in his jaw twitched, like now he was going to push the subject out of principle of you being shifty. But he just sighed and brought a hand up to pinch at the bridge of his nose.
“I need your help,” he said finally. Just as crabby as the first time he’d asked, if perhaps just a touch less imperious.
You arched a brow. “I think you’ve mentioned that already, yes.”
Silence.
The Lion stared you down with a slowly deepening scowl, and you stared back with a smile as placid and unmoved as the shallow pond you’d nearly drowned Ace in not an hour before.
“If I apologize, you’ll help me?” he asked after a long moment, the question turning sharp at the end on a bitten of growl.
“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” you hummed back and he crossed his arms stubbornly over his chest.
“I’m sorry,” he said, with all the pleasantry of someone undergoing a root canal. And all the sincerity of Ace swearing that this was the last time he’d get caught evading the tax man, promise.
You sighed, feeling a bit cheated. But you hadn’t really stipulated anything beyond those two little words leaving his mouth, so if anything, that was on you.
“Alright,” you huffed. “What is it you need help with?”
The Lion glared at you suspiciously for a long moment—glowing eyes narrowed into slits and tail twitching back and forth like he was swatting flies. Finally, he sighed and lifted his hands out in front of him with a pointed flex.
“It’s not supposed to be like this,” he frowned sourly, wrists twisting to display the pointed claws tipping his fingers. “I’m not supposed to get stuck in between.”
Your eyes traced the fluffy tufts of his round ears, the black-tipped tail swishing irritably at his hind, and allowed yourself a melancholy sort of huff.
“But you look good like this,” you pointed out sadly. Because he really, truly, did. Leona without his squishy lion ears would just be… grumpy. Miserable, and angular, and angry. Nothing soft worth coddling at all.
“That’s not the point!” he snapped, baring his overlarge canines at you. There was a darker cast along his cheekbones that seemed to be making a valiant effort to crawl all the way up into his fringe. “And don’t fucking say that!”
You frowned. One second this stupid dick wanted to be praised to the Heavens and back! Practically swanning about, demanding you bow down and acknowledge his blatant superiority. But, oh no. Apparently your meager half-sentence masquerading as a compliment was too much for his delicate, princely, sensibilities.
“Fine,” you griped. “You’re ugly.”
He growled—low and rumbling—and if he was anymore of a cat you’d say you could see his hackles raising in indignation. But before he could launch into another vicious, verbal, evisceration of your person, you cleared your throat loudly in an attempt to get him back on track.
“What do you mean by ‘stuck in between?’”
He sneered down at you testily for a moment before reaching up to pinch at the bridge of his nose again and letting out a put-upon sort of sigh that was not at all indicative of the fact that he was the one asking you for help.
“The Shift. When you found me in that pit, I should have been able to Shift between that form and this one without issue,” he frowned, brow tugging down tight with something a bit more disquieted than his usual, flat, annoyance. “The iron was a problem, but once I was out of the trap, it should have been fine. I’ve dealt with cursed snares like this before, and the effects have never lingered as long as this one has.”
You blinked owlishly. That did sound… fairly unpleasant. And honestly, if you were in his position you’d also be at least a little concerned that something else was at play. But, still, all that being said—
“I’m sorry,” you frowned, more or less genuine. Perhaps leaning a bit harder into less.“But I don’t understand how that has anything to do with me.”
“You were down there with me,” he argued. “You dismantled the trap.”
Uh, yeah. By messing with bits that looked breakable until they broke. Not exactly a high-level intellectual pursuit.
You didn’t say that, of course. Because after a few days watching you scuttle about your homestead like a particularly vocal lizard in the dirt, you were sure he already thought you were stupid enough without you outright admitting to it. Nevertheless, the Lion observed your zip-lipped silence with an ever-deepening scowl.
“You took it apart,” he tried again, nearly a growl.
“Yes,” you said with a nod.
“You know how you did it,” he continued, firm. At your lack of affirmative, he pushed again. “You know. I watched you do it!”
You raised your hand nervously and made a little so-so tilting motion.
Anyone less refined would no doubt have had their head in their hands at this point, but Leona just curled his lip at you and looked like he was fighting valiantly not to put your own very silly head through a wall.
“It was charmed,” he spat. “Bound up with talismans, and cursed down to its very moldings. That isn’t something any random farmer could walk up and break.”
“Oh,” you blinked, taken aback, and struggled to recall if there had been anything so obviously enchanted about the trap you’d fiddled into bits. “Was it?”
And head had officially met hands. He ground his clawed fingers into his temples like you were a headache that with enough determination and massaging he may somehow be able to will away.
“Couldn’t you go just home if this is such a big problem?” you asked, still genuinely baffled at it all. “Get help from your family? I mean, you’re a Prin—”
“No,” he interrupted, emerald eyes gone glacier cold.
You frowned, as unimpressed by his prickliness as you usually were. But something in you was hesitant to prod at whatever it was that had managed to tug a feral rage so tightly across his face—like drawing a shade over a window until the entire home was cloaked in shadow, or slipping away behind a carved mask too heavy to ever wear comfortably. It was an expression so sharp and so bitter that if you hadn’t only just yesterday watched this stubborn man lounge about in the sun as your chickens hopped all over him like he was the world’s most carnivorous jungle gym, you wouldn’t ever have known that they could be the same person at all.
“Alright,” you shrugged, and some of that angry, hunched, defensiveness eased into confusion.
“Hah?” he frowned.
“Alright,” you said again. “We’ll figure it out here.” He glared over at you balefully, and you waved off the obvious retort on the tip of his tongue about something-something-you have no idea what you’re doing-something-something-dangerous risks and lifelong consequences-blablabla. “I have a friend who would know a lot more about those kinds of traps and talismans that I do. He could help, probably.”
“Probably?” he scoffed. Though when he rolled his eyes, they weren’t quite so hate filled—lids hooded with a familiar, begrudging sort of irritation rather than outright malice.
“He’s a bit of an enigma,” you explained—wiggling your fingers in a little, sparkly, dance to emphasize the, well, enigmatic part.
Another huff. But amidst that grumpy bellyaching, you watched those fluffy ears of his slowly perk back up atop his head, and his tail swish leisurely behind him. The Lion certainly didn’t look happy (but did he ever? So was that really a fair comparison?), but he definitely seemed like he’d thawed into something less ‘frigid dead of winter’ and more ‘unpleasantly nippy spring morning.’
“Weirder than you, herbivore?” he sniffed, looking down his nose at you and crossing his arms loosely over his chest. “I find that hard to believe.”
Normally you would too. But, well…
“He’s charming,” you chirped pleasantly, and Leona’s face twisted up like you’d served him a bowl of rancid yogurt.
.
.
That night you composed a letter to your dearest Hunter friend. You thanked him for bringing you the White Moor Stag, elaborated a bit on the new marinade you’d been experimenting with, and then ended the whole thing with a polite plea for his aid in deconstructing the mechanisms of a magical trap you’d encountered. You bribed one of your two carrier pigeons with some snacks and watched it fly off into the unknown with a little, cream-colored envelope tied to its foot. Message talismans were much simpler and far more convenient, but the Hunter always seemed to appreciate the personal touch of postal birds.
Leona glared at you from the window, and made some dramatic swipe at your pigeon like he meant to knock it out of the air. The poor bird tottered about like an overfilled water balloon—jiggling and wriggling in its roundness before eventually righting itself and continuing on into the sky with a warbled coo coo.
“Don’t be rude,” you huffed at him.
“I can’t believe you still won’t let me in,” he sneered from beneath the fluff of that blanket you’d gifted him. “I apologized.”
“Yes, but you actually have to mean it,” you explained, not unkindly, as he prowled just beyond the glass. “But we’re making progress!” you beamed. “That’s something! Maybe you’ll make it in here within the next five years, hmm?”
“Or I could just wipe out the entirety of your ridiculous dirt farm now,” he threatened, a bit of that sandy magic swirling sinisterly along his fingers.
“You certainly could, your highness,” you agreed easily. His lip curled unpleasantly, but that glowing, gritty, arcana faded away and he didn’t move from where he’d tucked himself up under the duvet.
After another solid fifteen minutes of his pissy glowering and barbed insults, you pointedly unclipped the ties on your curtains and let them fall shut so that his ridiculous pouting was hidden away behind the thin, cotton, mess of poorly stitched flowers and herbs.
(You did leave a nice dinner plate on the ledge before that, with extra portions of meat and a neatly frosted cookie for dessert. Because as much as your day had been a bit rough, you had a feeling his melancholy extended far beyond being left out in the dark for another evening.)
.
.
The next morning, your doddering pigeon returned with an elegantly bound scroll—all embellished with golden filagree and tied up in a neat, crimson, bow.
“Why does this freak call you ‘mon cher ami,’” Leona sniffed, tongue curling awkwardly over the unfamiliar words.
You sighed and debated snatching the letter back, but all that would probably culminate in was the paper in tatters and a smug beastman lording his superior letter-wrangling skills over your head like a trophy.
“It’s just one of his little ticks,” you explained with a shrug. “I told you—he’s charming.”
“Ah, yes,” Leona drawled, tracing a claw along the parchment’s edge with a soft shhhhhft. A raised, white, line cut across the paper’s surface like the beginnings of a wound. “Waxing poetic nonsense in a foreign language. Rambling on about all kinds of useless fucking garbage. Charming.”
“You,” you snipped, reaching out to smack at his tightening grip before he could rend the poor correspondence to bits, “are not one to talk about ‘charming.’”
“Oh?” he scoffed. He maneuvered around your tutting to hold the letter over your head. Typical. When you leaned forward to try and wrangle it back, Leona leaned in closer—eyes going hooded and lips curling into a smug little smirk that promised all sorts of trouble. “Haven’t had any complaints about that before. Who’d be saying otherwise?”
“The person you left stranded at the bottom of a pit, you inglorious oaf,” you griped. His ears immediately swiveled to pin flat against the top of his head, and you used the distraction of his indignation to finally snatch back your prize. “Besides,” you huffed, straightening out some of the new wrinkles. “Not very Prince-like, is it? A real prince would have swept in to save the idiot in distress. Sword drawn, banners flying,” you sighed, a bit too besotted with your own imaginings. “Why did you have to be such a dick, huh? Ruined my fantasies for the rest of my life.”
“And what?” Leona snapped. “Some rogue bastard sending you cursive garbage does it for you?”
“Better than being left for dead in a hole after saving their life,” you smiled—perfectly, poisonously, pleasant.
Leona rumbled something indiscernible under his breath and turned to glare petulantly off across your garden.
“Besides,” you hummed, looking over the letter. “There’s more important things. Like this—right here. Do you know what a self-bored stone is? He’s thinking maybe there was a process like that with the iron shackles. Or maybe something to do with seeping the components in herbs… Hmm…”
“Whatever,” Leona scoffed. “I’ll try whatever it takes to fix this shit.”
You clapped him amiably on the shoulder. “That’s the spirit, tête de noeud!”
“The fuck did you just call me?!”
“Poetic nonsense,” you chirped, and Leona looked half ready to drop you back into the hole where he’d found you.
.
.
The first attempt to aid the Lion Prince in his conundrum didn’t go particularly well.
You’d tried to work off of the whole ‘overlap with a self-bored stone’ theory, but all that really amounted to was you gesturing like an over-serious crossing guard for him to walk under every low hanging branch, every arch, beneath the stunted beams of the chicken coop. You dangled rocks from strings and waved around your little creations like slightly more dangerous pompoms.
Penelope clucked irritably when one of the pebbles fell with a plunk into her nest, and Leona frowned up at you from where the wayward chicken had firmly situated herself in his lap.
“How was any of that supposed to help?”
You drew a blank and promised to try something new tomorrow.
The next day you tried herbs. The Hunter had listed off quite a few that were known to cause lingering issues with magical creatures, and you harvested the lot of them from your garden with ease. You held them up to Leona’s face one by one, brow furrowed in concentration, as you waited for… something.
“How is this any better than the rocks?” he complained.
You pushed the bright, butter-yellow, blossoms of some Saint John’s Wort under his nose until he sneezed and shoved you away with a slew of indignant threats to your person.
The following few days were spent perusing your meager library. You carted every book you owned on magic, and binding rituals, and rune smithing out into the yard. Leona looked over at the slowly growing pile of tomes with a truly unimpressed scowl.
“You could have just invited me inside,” he griped, rolling his eyes. He was splayed out in the grass at your side, his head tossed lazily across your lap after he’d complained that he needed at least some leverage to see what you were trying to read.
“Nice try,” you hummed, reaching for your page of hastily scribbled notes. “But you’re not getting off without a genuine apology that easy.”
A week passed in this fashion, with you attempting to string together more and more ludicrous ideas—throwing everything you had at the wall and hoping something, anything, would stick. But Leona’s ears stayed tufted and round. That tail seemed to only grow more twitchy, his claws longer and sharper.
You sent the Hunter another letter and waited anxiously for a reply. When it arrived the next morning, Leona snatched it from your pigeon before you’d even made it out your front door. It was a miserable sort of day—pouring rain and with nothing but the grey cloud cover overhead to color the world.
He read it over once, twice, before dropping it to the ground. You could see the tendons twitching along his jaw, could practically hear his molars grinding in his frustration.
You plucked the note from the grass and looked it over carefully.
‘Mon ami, while I am loathe to address this, perhaps it is not the make of this trap at all that is causing such a vexation? Is there any chance that rather than this being a lingering malady, that this friend of yours was simply unable to overcome the initial curse in the first place?’
You glanced back up at Leona, who was intermittently clenching his fists at his sides. You could see the harsh indentations from where his claws were digging into the skin of his palms.
‘Sometimes such things just happen, je crains. The flesh may be willing, but often the spirit is weak. You mentioned this Roi du Leon has a powerful family he may turn to for assistance. Certainly one of them may be strong enough to overcome this curse for him, even if he perhaps is not.’
“Of course it’s all because I’m a fuck up,” Leona snarled. Some of that spitting, sandy, magic of his seeped into the air. It bit at the rain like an overeager dog. You could see it dancing along his skin—fighting to pull his features one way or another.
“He didn’t say that,” you pointed out gently. “And even if you were, there’s nothing wrong with needing help sometimes. Your family—"
“—Would rather I keeled over dead and stopped sullying my brother’s perfect fucking reputation!” he snapped. “Heir to the King’s Roar,” he scoffed. “Stupid. I was never going to be a king to begin with. And even if I had been born first, they would have deposed me to put their flawless, favorite, golden boy on the throne anyways.”
That... That was a lot. You stared at the pacing Lion with wide eyes—unsure how to help, unsure if any attempts to do so would only make this worse. This was—this was so above your ‘happy, homey, hermit’ paygrade.
“Of course this is all because of me,” he hissed, that roiling, angry, arcana coiling around him like curdled milk. The pupils in his eyes flickered oddly from round to thin-cut, hard, lines. Beastly. “Of course it was because I wasn’t good enough.”
“Leona,” you tried, as gentle as you could be.
The Prince threw his head back and laughed. And laughed, and laughed.
“I should have known!” he cackled, borderline hysterical. “I should have fucking known!”
“Leona—” you tried again, reaching out a hand.
Only to be immediately knocked on your ass by an explosion of magic.
You’d heard of self-destruction—of implosion. The arcane wonders of the world were a wily and unyielding mistress. While creatures like Leona who were so naturally steeped in ancient magics and sorcery could control that beast more adeptly than some little mortal like you, it didn’t make them any less susceptible to its dangers. If anything, they had it worse. It was like sitting in a shallow stream versus wading out into a roaring ocean. So much more opportunity, such a higher aptitude for greatness, but far too easy to drown beneath the churning tides of it all.
The inky, geometric, swirls along his arms pulsed like a heartbeat. They crawled along his skin and traced black patterns into his veins. Even you could feel the horrible, dark, stickiness of it—as the magic ate him alive. His face twisted back and forth between human and animal, and you watched him contort and snarl under the weight of it before turning on you with a vicious roar.
Uh oh.
The first wave of magic seared the ground, leaving nothing but strange, grey, sand in its wake. The more he snapped and clawed wildly at anything and everything, the more that dusty desert spread. You managed to hop out of the way of most of it—sparing a single, sad, thought for all the poor plants you’d worked so hard to cultivate dying a miserable, grainy, death.
The next arc of magic shot straight from his clawed fingers, and it managed to catch the flesh of your forearm. It was sharper than any dagger or sword that you’d ever had the pleasure of accidentally nicking yourself with, and it tore its way down your arm like a raging beast, leaving an eerie, tacky, bubbling mess in its wake. And ouch did it hurt—like someone was taking a fistful of coarse sand and rubbing it into the open wound. You ground your teeth against the strange, gnawing, sensation and hastily wrapped a bit of torn fabric around the weeping gash to keep it a bit more contained. You waited for the worst of it to pass, for that initial bite to fade into a more manageable throb. But it didn’t. It just got sharper and tighter, hotter and hotter. For a moment it felt like your skin was crackling—like firewood popping and splitting beneath the weight of a blaze. From across the field, Leona made a noise like a hurricane given voice, and you bit back a groan.
‘Oh come on,’ you hissed to yourself. ‘Not now, please.’
And while you’d been mostly referring to the Lion losing another brick of his sanity fort, your wound seemed to pulse at the command—a sensation not unlike the soft drone of the wards carved deep into the support beams of your dilapidated home, and an impression of words tingling along your nerves without any real shape or form. ‘Alright. Later then.’ Like a breath of wind along your fingertips. That pulsing doubled back, and the wrap you’d hurriedly tied around your forearm hummed low with gentle arcana.
And then the cracking stopped. Just like that. Like it’d given up on eating you alive and decided to head home early for the day.
Huh, you though a bit dazedly, before hurriedly ducking out of the way of another swipe.
You clutched your still smarting but at least now functional arm to your chest, and Leona turned on you and your ethereal booboo with a raging snarl. But then that glowing glare caught on the blood trailing down towards your wrist in too dark, too thick, rivulets and his eyes went wide. It wasn’t much, but the strange bought of shock rocketing through him gave you a handful of seconds of ceasefire. You reached into your pocket with your uninjured hand and pulled out a thick bit of cardstock. This was supposed to be for emergencies, goddamn it! And you’d spent so much money on this stupid little thing! And—
You shook off the mildly delusional complaints bogging down your brain and unfolded the paper between your fingers. The sigils inked into it hummed against your skin, and the rain sluffed off its face like the cold and the damp were no bother at all.
“Fucking—” you flung the talisman at your ridiculous, rampaging, guest. It fluttered like the beat of a hawk’s wings and dove towards him with just as much vicious precision. “GO TO SLEEP!”
The enchantment smacked into his face with an echoing THUNK and you watched those too-bright eyes of his roll up into his head as he collapsed to the ground in a heap.
With the main source of all the Magical Warfare knocked unconscious, most of the miasma began to disperse—like dust caught up in a gale. The rain washed away the rest. It slid into the mud and seeped back into the earth. The plants and animals seemed to give a collective sigh, and some of your more courageous chickens even started to venture in close to peck at the leftover destruction.
You approached the felled Prince hesitantly. The talisman had been meant for subduing an enemy with a more human constitution, so you doubted it would keep him down for very long.
“Hey,” you grouched, poking his side. He twitched a bit but didn’t move otherwise. “Hey, asshole,” you tried again. Still, nothing. Uh oh.
You reached down to wedge an arm under him and hoist him upright. The singed skin of your forearm brushed along his jaw as you attempted to maneuver his bulk, and his nose twitched sharply at whatever scent was trapped in the dark, cracking, gash there. His brow scrunched up like you’d just doused him in spoiled milk, so naturally you went about waving your wounded flesh beneath his nostrils like the world’s strangest smelling salts.
After a moment he blinked back awake, face twisted up into the most properly disgruntled mien of distaste that you’d ever seen on a person who’d only just barely managed to claw their way back into the world of the living.
“Herbivore,” he rumbled, still looking more than a bit dazed.
Good enough.
You manhandled him back onto his feet as best you could—turning yourself into an impromptu crutch to try and get him mobile again. The sand shifted and sank beneath your heels, making dragging his ridiculous, dramatic, ass even more of a challenge. As you hauled him towards your cottage, you complained to him in earnest. Every little irritation under the sun. Half because you’d probably never have another opportunity to bitch at him so thoroughly without getting your own earful of grievances in return, half to keep him conscious—keep him focused on staying here. With you. And not… Wherever it was he’d gone in those moments of delirium.
“I still don’t get why you call me that,” you griped, readjusting your grip on him when he’d started to slide down to the point his nose had buried itself against your collarbone. “Herbivore. I’ve cooked so much meat for you since you decided to crash here. Talked about how I prepare it, and the flavors I experiment with—I literally gave you some from my own sandwich when we first met! That I ate the rest of! In front of you!—”
When you finally herded him over the threshold and into your little cottage, the wards and their protection slipped around him like the soft current of a stream. You hardly even noticed the way the old magics ruffled his hair—and that was only because you were actively looking, half convinced the house was still about to toss up an invisible barrier and send him sprawling back into the dirt.
Leona wobbled on his feet, and his eyes were still too far away and grey.
You grabbed him by the ear and maneuvered his too-tall self into one of your rickety kitchen chairs. The wood groaned under the sudden press of his dead weight, but it didn’t collapse beneath him so it wasn’t worth fussing over. Once you were certain he wasn’t about to fold over sideways and crumple to the ground (or at least, that he was angled enough over a rug that he wasn’t going to crack his head on the stone floor), you rushed off to your bookcases and shelves and began hurriedly rumaging through your collection of nonsense.
The charms, the charms. Where were your emergency charms?! You’d thought you left them right there on the—Ah! There we go.
You pulled the raggedy binder from its place on the shelf, blew away the coating of dust that had settled over the top of it, and returned to your patient.
You flipped open the worn leather hooks and began sorting through the dozens upon dozens of sheets of enchanted parchment within. They were unimpressive—just small, rectangular, bits of faded paper inlaid with the softest kinds of magic. Not meant for much more than coaxing warmth into chilly limbs or placing a soft kiss over a scraped knee. But medicines were medicines—whether arcane in origin or otherwise. If you—if you just doused him in the things, that would probably work. Right? Of course it would. That made perfect sense.
So you slapped the first talisman square in the middle of his forehead. Leona swayed at the wet SMACK of the paper gluing itself to his soaked-through skin, but aside from the faintest, startled, widening of his eyes, he didn’t do anything else to complain. So you stuck the next charm to his cheek, and then another on the opposite one too.
“Magic overuse is dangerous,” you chastised as you went about layering a veritable novel’s worth of pasty, paper, enchantments up his arms. The soft spells worked their way into his skin, and you watched those twisting, black, shapes skitter back up towards where they’d once sat peacefully curled around his bicep. “Are you trying to kill yourself, hah?!”
Instead of snapping back at you like normal, he just sort of… sat there. Accepting your angry accusations in frosty silence. He absolutely looked like a cat that you’d fished out of a bag in the river. Pathetic, and sad, and droopy. And… quiet. So, very, quiet. You frowned, because as much as you didn’t particularly enjoy being insulted every minute of the day, the Lion’s biting little remarks had become… familiar, at the very least. Even if they weren’t entirely pleasant. Even if he was far from pleasant.
The dampness on his skin was starting to curl the edges of your talismans, and you reached forward with a huff to at least pull the freezing, soaked-through, vest off his shoulders. The leather jacket landed with a wet plap on the stone floor, a cold puddle already pooling around all its stupidly intricate, embroidered, edges. Something fluttered out of one of the open pockets—small, and off white, and crinkled. You stepped over the whole mess to retrieve a pile of towels and didn’t give it a second thought.
“Make a mess of my home, why don’t you,” you complained, dropping one of the towels over the entirety of his head before reaching forward to start drying him off with perhaps a bit more force than necessary. “Drip all over the floors I just mopped, why don’t you. Be emotionally constipated and almost turn my whole yard into a sand pit, why don’t you—”
A hand reached out to snag your wrist, and you let him pull you away from your attempts to rub all that stupidly thick hair straight off his head.
From beneath the curtain of the cotton towel, you could see Leona glaring at the long, dark, scratch curling along your forearm. It certainly wasn’t… nice to look at. The gymnastics of getting him into your cottage had managed to displace the impromptu bandage, so the whole of it was just there. Bruised, and dark, and odd looking. But ugly or not, it was hardly bleeding or anything anymore! And he was the one who had almost just self-destructed in your front yard!
‘Think of the accusations!’ you wanted to wail. ‘Can you imagine the garbage I would have to deal with if I wound up with a dead royal fertilizing my garden?! No thank you!’
But before you could complain about his fussing, his claws flexed against the soft skin of your palm and you saw the muscles along his forearm tense—like he was fighting to keep still.
“You should be dead,” he muttered, terse.
You huffed. “Look, I know you think humans are all sorts of pathetic, but I’m not that—”
“You should be dead,” he repeated, sounding as if the words had to tear their way out of his throat—scraping like shards of glass all the way up.
You stared at his dark eyes and dripping bangs—the shadows playing across his cheeks and the strange, hollow, wrongness that had settled over all of him. With a heavy sigh you plopped yourself down into the chair across from his and dragged a handful of the leftover charms your way. Pointedly, you took one and slapped it over the wound. And then another.
“See?” you said, flexing your wrist in his grip to put the creeping, black, cut on display. The talismans glowed softly against your skin and the lingering whisps of darkness licking at the the injury began to fade. “All better. Not something a dead person would say at all.”
Leona frowned, but at least it looked a bit more annoyed than outright bleak. And besides, frowns were better than whatever that stoic, expressionless, numbness had been.
“Though I appreciate your concern,” you grinned, pointedly sharp and prodding. Like a toddler standing by with a stick, hoping to poke out a reaction. “Truly, whatever would I do without the Great Lord Lion there to fret over me?”
But instead of the acidic ‘I wasn’t fucking worried,’ that you were expecting, or even a more muted grumble of dissent, Leona’s brow just pinched in displeasure and your awkward attempts at teasing faded into terse silence.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered, almost too quiet to hear—his head low and eyes lower.
You sighed and twisted your wrist around to pat at his hand. There was the faintest tremor in his fingers and you tangled your own between them to give him something to squeeze, something to hide the shiver of lingering malaise that he would no doubt deny with his dying breath. You observed the stern, tight, expression warping his otherwise handsome face—the miserable, puckered, angle of his mouth and the way the emerald of his eyes was cut through with a shadow of genuine remorse. You reached out with your other hand to pet at his soft, round ears. They squished flat beneath your palm and your lips twitched up into a fond, little smile. Leona tipped his chin just enough to glower at you from beneath his bangs with no real heat, and you sighed and gave him one more pat for good measure.
“You’re forgiven.”
.
.
.
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Seeing as the Gerudo turned on Ganon, he might not have been that much better of a ruler.
First of all, we literally have no idea, because the only ancient Gerudo that we actually get to interact with is Ganondorf himself, and he has nothing to say about his own people. The ancient Gerudo sage doesn't count btw, she doesn't have a name, we never even see her face, and she has literally nothing to say except repeating the exact same dialogue as the sages for the other races. The narrative does not treat the ancient sages as people; they are four completely interchangable weapons that are owned by the royal family.
And secondly, I don't care how Ganon ruled them; the Gerudo only get one man every century, if their king sucks, they've obviously got their own system of government to fall back on. I have no idea what kind of authority the sages had among their own people, but honestly I'd say if the four of them were in charge of their respective people, then they were just puppet rulers appointed by Rauru, given that all four of them happily agreed that to sell their entire race into servitude the second Zelda asked them. Say what you will about Ganondorf, but I fucking know that if he was told the Gerudo people existed for the sole purpose of serving the glory of Hyrule, he'd drop kick Zelda into the fucking sun.
And don't get me started on the implications of the cultural differences we see between the independent Gerudo and the annexed Gerudo. The background Gerudo characters all have their own models, and we can clearly see that the ones siding with Ganon have their own unique looks - for example, the amazing lady with the mohawk that summons the molduga swarm in that one flashback. And men are never mentioned in these flashbacks at all, which implies that the Gerudo genuinely didn't care about settling down. Ganon even speaks derisively about marriage, implying that it's very rare for Gerudo women to make serious romantic commitments with men. It implies that their culture is more along the same line as their portrayal in OOT - they are a closed culture. Men trying to force their way into their areas are arrested, and mocked for being entitled dumbasses. Outsiders are only welcome if they can prove that they respect the Gerudo as people, and aren't just there to try and pick up chicks. It's never outright said, but OOT also makes it pretty clear that the Gerudo women just aren't interested in marrying outsiders - close relationships occur with other Gerudo, Hylian men are only considered useful for making babies.
Meanwhile the Gerudo we see serving Hyrule are all trying to measure up to Hylian beauty standards, and appeal to their men. Their one goal in life is to meet a man and get married. Men are welcome in their lands, and only kept out of the town itself... and even then, there's a small army of guys trying to force their way into the town anyways, which is brushed off as just haha, boys will be boys. No men allowed isn't even about independence, it's just a silly romantic tradition.
Of course this is just a fictional culture in a game world, but it's still really fucking uncomfortable that the 'evil' Gerudo are the ones that have independence, both politically and socially, and display a unique culture that refuses to tolerate disrespect from outsiders. Meanwhile the 'good' Gerudo are the ones that canonically exist to serve a kingdom where 95% of the population is light skinned (even setting aside the unfortunate implications, just saying one race exists to serve a different one is super fucked up), they have classes on how to be more appealing to Hylian's, and their entire social structure is built around finding a Hylian man to marry, making them all inherently dependent on the goodwill of outsiders. Even their biggest value of 'women only' is treated as a joke; men trying to trespass in BOTW are just shoved back out the door, letting them keep trying all day if they want. The crowds of men plotting to force their way in are laughed off as a joke. Nobody cares that there's a guy running laps around their city walls and trying to trick women into being alone with him. I mean for fucks sake, in TOTK we find that the creepy guy trying to lure women away has taken advantage of a massive disaster to get into the town, and he's still there once things return to normal. You can't kick him out, or alert anyone to his presence. And the Gerudo just tolerate Hylians blatantly ignoring their boundaries. For fucks sake, TOTK even reveals that the seven legendary heroines they've been revering the whole time were actually completely useless and unable to achieve anything... because they needed the eighth hero, a Hylian man to teach them basic tactics and do all the heavy lifting.
TOTK does not respect the Gerudo people in the slightest. It doesn't respect anyone who isn't Hylian or Zonai.
...This got a little off track, but the point I'm trying to make is, no, I don't consider the Gerudo turning on Ganon to mean anything. The entire game does not feel like the real story of what happened, it feels like the propaganda version of history meant to make Hyrule look as good as possible. I genuinely cannot believe that we're being told the real story about the Imprisoning War, because none of it feels real, and we don't get to know any details that might have made Hyrule look even slightly imperfect. We're told that Ganondorf is evil because he hates Hyrule, and he hates Hyrule because he's evil. The Gerudo people followed Ganondorf and saw him as a hero of their people, then suddenly he was their worst enemy. Hyrule is a perfect kingdom that has strong, equal alliances with the other races, but also all of the non-Hylian races exist for the sole purpose of serving Hyrule, and their leaders are expected to swear eternal loyalty and submission to the Hylian royal family. King Rauru and Queen Sonia united all of the races in peace and equality, which is why they're sitting on the world's supply of magical nuclear missiles, and every member of the Hylian royal family is allowed to walk around wearing them as cute accessories, but everyone else only gets them at the last second, and they all need to outright swear to only use that power to benefit Rauru and his descendants.
There's just so many fucked up contradictions, and so many hints of something more nuanced going on... but the story refuses to acknowledge any of it, and just keeps aggressively pushing the narrative that Hyrule is the ultimate good and couldn't possibly do anything wrong. I don't even believe that Ganon was a bad king honestly; we never hear why his people stopped following him. We also never even see if the Gerudo people turned on him at all; all we know is the ancient Gerudo sage wanted him dead, and given that she also happily sold her people into slavery, she's not exactly the most trustworthy source of information. All we know is that Ganondorf was a hero to his people, only one of his citizens is ever shown having an issue with him (and her motives are never explained), and then he lost the war and was sealed away, leaving his people open to be conquered by Zelda and annexed into Hyrule. By the time we see any Gerudo actually opposing Ganon (apart from the ancient sage), it's been ten thousand years since the war, and all anyone knows is the Hylian version of the story.
#tears of the kingdom spoilers#tears of the kingdom#ganondorf#the secret bonus reason for me arguing about this so much is that it's interesting#on a surface reading TOTK is a really boring story. nothing changes nobody learns anything there's no nuance#the game explains the entire story to us in the opening cutscene. idk why they bothered with the rest of the game#you could walk down those stairs in the intro and kill ganon immediately and it'd be pretty much the exact same story#if i take the game at face value then there's literally nothing to talk about. i just straight up do not care.#but analyzing all the fucked up implications nintendo accidentally included? now thats a story to talk about#i dont think ganondorf is secretly a really nice guy. i think he's more interesting if he's actually a complete bastard#but he's a complete bastard that has a point and if the game wont acknowledge that then i will#sure the people he's fighting against seem nice. but they're not actually good people#i mean ffs zelda certainly doesnt seem concerned that she last saw link taking a fatal blow for her then jumping into a bottomless pit#she doesn't even consider that he might be dead. or just unable/unwilling to fight after being horrifically wounded#at least BOTW had the decency to ask Link if he was willing to risk his life to fight ganon
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Also for some reason I cannot edit on the app? Nor on the website, so please work with me here, sorry about the confusing layout, I know I hate it too.
“I don't need you hovering”.
(name) glared at Xiao, who was literally watching (Name) as a hawk as he tried to feed their four year old pup.
“Ah!!”
(Name) resumed his attention onto Yuen, who was glaring at the two for interrupting his feeding, “Oh I know buddy, Dada can be so mean”.
“He is four, I think he can feed himself”.
(Name) rolled his eyes, “I'm still cutting up his food for him, he could literally-”.
“Let me do it”. Xiao gently moves (Name) over to cut up Yuen's food.
(Name) silently seething; his scent souring,”I'm pregnant not incapable” he mumbles.
(Name) was only six months pregnant, not too far into his pregnancy but not too far away from giving birth. Did he appreciate Xiao's helpfulness? Of course, some omegas would be delighted to have a mate so helpful and understanding as Xiao. Xiao was very experienced in the field, having a pup, Yuen, before meeting (Name) with a one night stand.
(Name) excuses himself from the room to finish getting ready for the day. Looking at the bathroom mirror, his stomach barely dropped, perks of being a male omega.
“You should be getting bigger soon”.
(Name)’s eye twitched, “Wow… Thanks”.
Was Xiao a great mate? Of course! (Name) couldn't be happier, but it's Xiaos overbearing that got (Name), it's ‘You're doing that wrong’, ‘no let me help’, ‘you shouldn't pick up Yuen’. It was very exhausting.
Xiao was dressed in his work clothing holding Yuen who was ready for school, hence the yellow bucket hat and blue school uniform. “Yuen say bye to Papa”.
“Bye-bye!!” Yuen does the kiss motion towards (Name).
“Are you going to be okay going to University today? I don't want you walking that far-”
“Again, pregnant, not broken, anyways I was going to pick up groceries after class”. (Name) gave the two a quick hug and the two goodbye.
“And then he tells me “yoU ShOUld bE geTTinG biGGeR sOOn” like fuck off please, I understand that he is trying to help but, it's overwhelming! I can do things by myself! I'm a big boy!”. (Name) ran to his father-in-Law, Zhongli, who was his Political Science professor.
(Name) usually got to school early to help Zhongli set up the classroom, but that was both of their excuse to gossip.
Zhongli watched the younger omega scrub the chalkboard harshly, putting his hand gently on the younger male’s shoulder, “Maybe see it from his perspective… when Xiao was… Expecting, he was alone, besides from me and his step father, think of it as he doesn't want you to feel alone. Also culturally speaking, he the rest of his siblings were raised that a pregnant omega shouldn't be do anything but resting, so this is a change for him as well”.
(Name) snickered at the memories from early into his pregnancy, how Xiao told him not to rub his stomach often or the pup will end up being spoiled or how when he came back from night school, Xiao lit sages around the house.
“Just communicate with him”. Zhongli said with a soft smile on his face.
After class was done for the day the two omegas walked home together.
“Hmmm, what is for dinner tonight (Name)?”.
(Name) hummed, “I've been craving some Tangbao, the big ones, no, bigger”. (Name) drooled at the thought of a hot doughy, chewy, flavor filling bun in his stomach, the thought earned a kick from the pup inside of him.
As the two walked into the shared home space, the aroma of dinner hit their noses.
“Papa!!”
Yuen ran up to (Name) and Zhongli, giving the two a giant hug, or as big his small arms could.
“Hello to you too Yuen, I trust you've been a good boy for your fathers?” Zhongli said as he patted the boy's head.
Yuen nodded his head, grabbing Zhongli’s hand, “come! I wanna show you! My book!”.
(Name) took his shoes off carefully before stepping up stairs to join the family in the living space, (Name) drooled at the thought of dinner.
It wasn't too abnormal for Xiao to be cooking but usually (Name) to cook.
(Name) slouched down into the comfortable recliner in the corner of the room, waiting for dinner, closing his eyes, listening to Yuen speak his mind to his grandfather.
“this is! Uncle… Bo-sac-i-us!”
“That's a very good illustration, young one, who's that right there?”
“That's my new baby sister!”
“Oh, you're sister?”
“Mhm! Papa said he thinks it's a girl and Dada says Papa is always right”.
(Name) smiled fondly.
“Dinner everyone” Xiao spoke softly, taking in (Name)’s tired form.
The table was set up neatly, dinner looked perfect, it was almost like a mutton hot pot.
“Now Yuen, do you want to eat with a fork or your training chopsticks?”.
“I wanna practice!!”.
(Name) looked at the food in awe, but his hormone pregnancy brain nagged at the thought that this wasn't what he wanted, but the food looked so good at the sametime.
“Are you okay (Name)?” Xiao whispered.
(Name) started grabbing greens and beef and putting into his bowl, “I'm- fine”.
Xiao didn't press any further, picking up food and putting it onto Yuens and (Name)’s bowls.
Dinner was calm, well, for everyone else. (Name) was quietly seething, he felt guilty about it though, he didn't mean to feel this way but he can't help it, pregnancy brain.
“Yuen, make sure grandpa sees his way out the door”.
“Yes dada!!”.
(Name) helped collect dishes to put in the sink.
“Are you sure you're okay? Your scent is off”.
(Name) finally quietly broke down, “I wanted Tangbao for dinner, not a hotpot meal, I hate that you do things for me, I hate how I can't go anywhere without you hovering! I'm sorry! I'm just overwhelmed!”.
(Name) quietly sobbed into his mate's chest.
Xiao rubbed (Name)’s back, leading the omega up the stairs to their share bedroom.
“I'll be back, let me finish cleaning and get Yuen to bed”.
Xiao was gone for 40 minutes, giving (Name) time to breathe and calm down. When Xiao came back, he had a small plate of melons and tea with him.
“I'm sorry”.
(Name) took the plate, calming down, “was this the good melon?”.
“The one that's been in the freezer since New Years”.
(Name) hummed, “I forgive you, for now”.
Xiao chuckled, massaging (Name)’s swollen legs, “I mean it. I'm sorry. I wasn't aware of your feelings. That makes me a bad mate”.
(Name) sighed, “You're not a bad mate, you..just… are not emotionally self aware sometimes”.
Xiao nodded, “I'll work on it, I'll do better”
“I appreciate that”.
A small knock on the door interrupted the two. “Papa, can I sleep with you?”.
The two omegas smiled softly, “Yes Yuen, give us a minute to get change. We'll come get you”.
#genshin xiao#xiao x reader#omega xiao#omega reader#omega male reader#genshin impact x reader#gensnin impact x male reader#genshin impact omegaverse#xiao x male reader
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AEIWAM : what are the divisions specialities actually ? Like obviously the 4th heal and the 11h fight but like. The 9th? Do crosswords?
BOY AM I GLAD YOU ASKED BECAUSE THIS IS SOME OF THE BEST RETROACTIVE WORLD BUILDING I HAD TO DO AND I'M PROUD OF IT.
So in canon, almost none of the guard squads have "specialist" jobs, mostly because it's not terribly important to the plot, and because the court guards were essentially formed as an ad-hoc mercenary gang to protect one city specifically, but since Yamamoto didn't have to remain loyal to any noble family specifically, he kept getting pulled in as an arbiter and more and more responsibilities heaped upon him until the Court guard squads were acting as a De-Facto government, until the old man got pissed off with being involved in everybody else's business and rounded up a gang of nerds to do that for him so he could go do sword stuff. Seriously, everything about the administrative Bullshit in Soul Society makes sense when viewed through the lens of 'this shit was made ad-hoc out of what was available by people who only kind of knew what they were doing.
So the main government of Soul Society functions approximately like so:
Royal Guard:
Only technically part of the government, the Royal guard consists of The Monk who is responsible for making sure nobody steals any more of the soul king's body parts, and the four people he chose to help/didn't want left unattended in the Spirit World: The Guy who makes Zanpaktou, the Guy who can (theoretically) heal the Soul King, the lady who can literally mess with the fabric of reality and the lady who can create new souls. They spend nearly all their time in the Royal Realm trying to prevent the universe from unrevealing further, and don't really have administrative power so much as if any one of them decided to, they could wreck house of anyone in the spirit world, so if they say something, the central 46 listens and obeys.
Central 46:
The Highest Administrative level, sets society-wide policies, mediates disputes between provinces, wrangles the noble houses, assigns aid and designs social programs. It's comprised of 46 sages and other wise people appointed by the 46 as they die off. IN THEORY "Let a bunch of academics and philosophers who presumably know what they're doing make policy" isn't *that* bad an idea by itself, but it got coupled with "Also, to make sure these guys aren't being bribed or politically pressured, let's keep them in near-total isolation :)" and that's when things got weird.
The Central 46 does try it's best to maintain a peaceful and prosperous society, but it's got to strike a weird balance and the isolation sure does not fucking help maintain a cognizant worldview.
Noble Houses:
So the soul society, by the way they measure time*, only JUST got out of a major warring states period because magical Germany invaded and the guy that lead the army also managed to get The Mandate Of Heaven, but a lot of those formerly-warring states are still around, especially the ones that stole pieces of the soul king. They're not governmental bodies, but the families have shitloads of money, private armed forces and political influence. Think of the worst possible combination of magacorporation, mercenary army and royal dynasty. The are, unfortunately, still a political force to be reckoned with.
*Badly.
Provincial Governors:
So the Soul Society is divided up into Districts like so:
(Embiggen to actually see the damn thing)
The Seireitei is in the center, with the districts counting out until the central 46 got to the outer edge they could theoretically get forces and/or emergency food to in under a month and declared everything after that "District 80" AKA "You're on your own" No taxes are collected in the 80th district and people who don't want to deal with the soul society government often try to strike it on their own out there.
Each of those little rectangles is a district, and each of them has approximately the same number of people living in it- the lower districts are densely populated and, due to their proximity to the Seireitei, well-developed. The districts generally get less developed and less densely populated as you get farter from the center, but this varies wildly by the competence of that district's Daimyo or Governor. West 51 is a much more developed district than it's position would dictate, because it's Daimyo is canny and made good use of it's mineral resources and position in inter-mountain shipping. South 14 Should be one of the nicest districts, but their Governor is a moron who keeps picking fights with the neighboring districts like he's allowed to annex them, and the district has been sanctioned from hell to breakfast over it.
Gotei-13 / Court Guard Squads:
Sort of the executive branch of the Central 46, founded out of Yamamoto's gang of criminals he rounded up to deal with the Quincy invasion back when Rome was collapsing. So the court guard acts out the orders of the Central 46, and *theoretically* has authority over the noble houses and provincial governors, but they are pretty much constantly dancing on the edge of another warring states period, so things can get... tricky.
ALSO DID NOT HELP that The Monk who guards what's left of the Soul King came down from the Royal Realm and foisted a bunch of trans-dimensional responsibilities onto them but the Specific duties of the 13 court guards in AEIWAM are as follows:
(It's worth noting that the order of the court guard squads was determined literally by the order that the 12 criminals signed the agreement with Yamamoto to protect the seireitei, not the order of importance)
Division 1:
ADMINISTRATION
Oh god there is so much coordination to do between the central 46, the running of internal affairs, recruitment, training new shinigami, coordinating assignments that take more than one division's input. securing and distributing funding, etc. It's main jobs are: assigning work based on policy from the central 46, running the Shinigami Academy, and actually running the Gotei-13.
Division 2:
SPY SHIT
Gotei-13 is a shady-ass organization with a lot of enemies and that's not about to change. The second division is responsible for keeping an eye on the provinces and noble houses and anything else of interest, "Handling things quietly" for the Gotei-13, and preventing the Central 46 from being corrupted or assassinated.
The Shihon Clan has historically held the captainacy of the 2nd division as part of the compromise Yamamoto struck with the noble houses at the founding of the court guard squads to end the civil wars- that each of the 4 noble houses would hold a captain's position, until the noble houses fell apart or the court guard did. This gave the Shihon clan a GREAT incentive to undermine the shit out of other noble houses, and Yamamoto gave them his blessing to do so.
Ironically, the Shihon clan was one of the first to collapse.
Division 3:
INTERNAL AFFAIRS
Law Enforcement, but specifically the Seireitei and shinigami/martial court/jail. The court guard kind of lives and dies by how much it's respected* and it's essential the Gotei-13 follow strict ethical standards and also a tight adherence to authority lest one of the squads break off and start a civil war. Accepting Bribes and Defying Orders are much more severe crimes than say, excessive collateral damage. The 3rd division is responsible for investigating complaints, mediating disputes between divisions, and generally making sure everyone is behaving properly.
*By the noble houses, Daimyos and central 46. The average civilian? not so much.
Division 4
Medical
This division was actually the FIRST established, even before the court guard really became Squads. It was Chigiri and her pack of field surgeons that commanded Yamamoto's respect and gave him the idea of letting the other criminals have minions too. 4th divison is responsible for maintaining the health of the court guard- not just emergency medicine, but vaccinations, post-service medical care, and civil sanitation- keeping the streets clean and water safe is the #1 way to prevent deaths.
Until recently, this meant a lot of trained medics were doing a lot of grunt work, until Zaraki, a guy from districts where Dysentery is still the #1 killer, successful argued a proposal to Unohana that her medics should be managing other, less-in-demand squads doing the labor, which would get the jobs done a hell of a lot faster, and not back up triage as much.
Unohana, who had previously not *trusted* other squads to do the work reliably, finally relented and accepted some damn help.
Division 5:
Rukongai Affairs
The 5th division is responsible for coordinating efforts between the Gotei-13 and the Provincial Governors- Hollow Eradication, Disaster Relief, additional armed forces to help local police, Helping distribute grain to mitigate famine, etc.
Division 6:
External Affairs
Responsible for representing the Gotei-13 to other groups and dealing with Noble House Bullshit specifically. While Noble House Bullshit is 95% of what they do, but technically, they're also responsible for handling diplomatic relations with the Beastfolk in the eastern districts, Las Noches after the winter war in the west, Any Kami that might come through, and Hell, if they ever get a line open. The Kuchiki family has held the 6th Division captaincy for generations as a peacekeeping measure between the gotei-13 and the noble houses.
Division 7:
Incoming Souls
The reason the soul society doesn't reunite people with their families when they die is that they do not actually have control over who reincarnates as themselves (and if they retain their memories), who is reborn as a baby in the spirit world, and what district they get assigned to- that's all decided at the moment of a Soul's death by Hell, using a Metric the Shinigami can only guess at.
That said, the 7th still can do a lot- Souls that had to be cleansed with Konsho go through the 7th division and are escorted to their assigned districts. Other, non-hollowfied but odd case souls will end up in the pocket dimension that serves as the queue into the afterlife- people with high spiritual power, animals that achieved personhood in the world of the living and other nonhuman persons, and somtimes spirits who were almost certainly supposed to go to a different afterlife all come through.
The 7th division is also charged with keeping a running tally on important statistics like the relative balance between souls, who got hollowfied and why, collecting data on who goes to hell when konsho is prefromed on them and why, and other data to try and work out Hell's metric backwards.
Division 8:
Income and Funding
The court guard squads are... kind of taxpayer funded. The Daimyos collect taxes from civilians, they pay those taxes to the central 46, and the central 46 disburses some of that money to the Gotei-13, but the truth is, for all the duties they're expected to preform, they're wildly underfunded. So the court guard has had to get... inventive to make sure everyone gets paid and they can do what they need to. Investments in industries, ownership of weird land grants, taking out loans, selling merchandise and straight-up schmooze have all been used by the 8th division to make sure the bills get paid.
Shunsui is, by that measure, the best captain the division has ever had- he's shrewd and had astonishingly good luck when it comes to finances so there hasn't been a pay strike since he took over. Probably his best idea was handing the branding and product design of the Gikon to the Shinigami Women's Association- that one paid mad dividends.
Division 9:
Information Services
The ninth division is most famously home to the Seireitei's first and most largely-ciculated newspaper, but it's also the records office, PAYROLL, library, document archives, data collection and data analytics.
Also, tech support.
Also also: manage all the arts programs, propaganda and festivals.
This is why Kaname was load-bearing to Aizen's plan.
Division 10:
Living World Affairs
The 10th division was responsible for monitoring the living world- mostly keeping track of hollow appearances, but also: what the remaining Quincies are up to, reporting back on useful technological advancements, any other weird shit that turns up there, and keeping track of all the Shinigami on deployment to the living world (mostly 10th division but the post-war population boom means every division's having to chip in now.
Division 11:
Emergency/Heavy Deployment
Every time the Gotei-13 had to do some heavy lifting, it's the 11th division's job. Mass outbreak of hollows? 11th's job. Emergency Dam repair to prevent a flood? 11th division muscle time. Daimyo got funny ideas about conquering a neighboring district? 11th division. Funcking Quincies again? 11th division. Rampaging Kami afflicted by a terrible curse? you know who to call.
This was the SECOND Division to be founded, because the actual sentence that came out of Yamamoto's mouth was "Chigiri, you and your gremlins put my guts back in, Yachiru, round up some assholes and DEAL WITH THAT FUCKING THING." and the 11th's prerogative and hiring practices have not changed since.
Since the 11th's work is more intermittent, there are long periods between jobs for them, and it's only recently they've been allowed to pitch in on regular maintenance and rehabilitate their reputation as a bunch of lazy degenerates.
Divison 12:
Supplies (more recently, Research and Development)
Prior to Kisuke Urahara's weird science boner, the 12th Division's primary job was the manufacture and supply of everything the Shinigami would need to do their jobs. Uniforms, Gigai, medical supplies, communicators, rations, Gikon, the actual buildings in the Seireitei, bedding, Protective gear- if a Shinigami received it for their job, it was made by the 12th division.
Despite previous captain Kirio Hikifune being the most accomplished chef in the history of Soul Society, it's Mayuri that has made the most profound mark on Soul Society Cuisine with the fast-prepared, acceptable-tasting and surprisingly nutritious meals he developed to deal with the mass influx of souls after WW2, and the franchise distribution centers combined with his attempts at children's educational programming mean that Mayuri occupies a cultural niche in Soul Society not unlike Krusty The Clown.
Division 13:
Magical Research, Kido Corps
Until recently, the Kido Corps was a seperate division governed under the purview of the central 46, and the 13th division was doing it's research into Hado, Bakudo and Haikido independently, but as the two organizations worked increasingly closely together, they began to share more until the catastrophic events of Turn Back The Pendulum left the Kido Corps severely depleted and without leadership, at which point Yamamoto persuaded the central 46 to let the 13th division absorb the rest of the Kido corps and take on their work.
So that's how the government in Soul Society is SUPPOSESD to work.
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Friends don't kiss friends. part 1
You and Carl have been best friends since childhood, when you were still terribly messy kids. You practically grew up at the Gallagher's, you were next-door neighbors, and when you weren't there, you were at Alibi's with your parents, Veronica and Kevin. You were with him at all times, at least the most important ones. And some it was you who made them come true, like his first French kiss behind school.
You were the first one Carl liked, that's why you were such friends, he really liked you a lot. You were the first one who aroused something in him, sexual or not. And for that, you were the one chosen for his first kiss, his first dance performance at school, the first one he ran to with a can of vegetables with a hundred thousand dollars in it, and you buried yourself in some wild terror. Your favorite weapon was delivered to you in the school bathroom. And the first woman, except Fiona, who saw him when she got back from juvie.
You guys had some disagreements when he came back saying he was black and forcing a ridiculous black accent, acting like a sick gangster. The braids in his hair almost made you kill him. His mother scolded him immediately. He was someone else, not the Carl you knew but who knew he was there, somewhere, but he was. But you couldn't stay away from him long, and within two weeks you were talking normally.
Or the first person he asked for love advice when he started to have feelings for Dominic, he did everything for her, but unfortunately it wasn't enough. She betrayed him and contracted gonorrhea, the sages say: karma is like a kick in the ass. You were the one who took him in, and then went with him to take a test, where he discovered that he didn't have the disease, and the certainty that she betrayed him.
You were the first one he ever told about his shitty parents, not that you didn't know, you lived with him. But it went deeper, he told you how he felt about Monia's death and how he felt like a failure for years, especially after what happened to G-Dog, but you brought him back to who he always was.
And shit, those damn words almost made you choke on the beer you were drinking. "Back to life," what did he mean by that? What were you to him anyway? That was a question you didn't mean to ask. You two have always been best friends, both of you have always prioritized friendship above anything else, you didn't want to risk it and end up losing your love.
You were at his house now, lying on his couch missing him. It's been almost five days since you've seen each other, even though you lived within meters of each other. "Hey Mom. I'm going to Gallagher's!" you yell, she yells back saying it's okay and that she's going to be on Alibi. You leave the house wrapping your headset around your cell phone, shoving your hands in your sweatshirt pocket.
You look around and see no cars, it was a cloudy and relatively cold day. You walk down the sidewalk taking the few steps to Gallagher's house, and surprisingly you still haven't heard any screams, groans or anything breaking. You jump the playpen at the house, sell a Frank passed out - or not, sleeping or dead on one of the stairs. You ignore that old junkie shit and head upstairs ringing the doorbell.
The door is almost always open, but you don't think it's polite to walk in without knocking, especially not to find someone fucking on the couch or in the kitchen. The door is quickly opened by Lip, who has wide blue eyes, but he relaxes as he recognizes you. "Fuck, I thought it was the social worker." she whispers in relief "Hey girl. What are you doing here?" he asks giving you space to enter, so you do.
"I came to torment C-Dog." you say smiling, he laughs with a cigarette stuck to his lips. "Right." he sits on the sofa. "Where are the rest of the staff? This house is insanely quiet and it makes me wonder if no one is drugged or dead." you say, Lip laughs puffing out his cigarette. "No, no. Debbies is out with Franny, Fiona is at the diner, Ian is probably fucking some gay guy and Liam is in school."
"Uh…I thought things between Ian and Mickey were serious." you talk, Lip shrugs. "They're coming and going because of their bipolarity." "Got it. I'm going up." you say starting up the living room stairs, Lip nods turning on the television. You walk down the hall really seeing the empty rooms, you go to Carl's and give a few rings, nobody comes to open it and you don't hear anything.
Then, slowly you pull the doorknob covering his eyes, an immediate action upon entering his room since you found out he slept naked sometimes. You enter the room one finger at a time until you are sure there is no one in the room. "Y/N?" a hoarse voice comes from behind you, and you jump in fright. "Oh shit Carl. You scared me!" you gasp putting your hand on your chest, he laughs walking into the room.
He rummages through your clothes thrown across the bed so you don't know which ones are dirty or clean, and just then you notice a white towel drapes around your hips. Leaving his luscious abs showing, it was a fact that Gallagher came back a hundred times hotter from jail, you'd admit that yourself.
You grab a random playboy magazine from under his bed, throwing his body on the bed you cross your legs opening the magazine as he changes. Even though you've seen each other almost naked a few times, or else in your underwear and panties and bra several times, you respected your privacy. You flip through the pages of magazines, naked women posing or wearing costumes.
"Wow, that's hot." you say smiling, Carl looks at you without understanding. You turn the magazine over to him "Oh, she is." you notice that he has his legs covered by sweatpants, my biceps are still uncovered. You return to the magazine, pushing away any inappropriate thoughts. "I'm dressed. What are you doing here?" he asks sitting next to her on the bed. "I was bored and I have a best friend living next door to me so…" he laughs, pinching her ear. "I understand. What do you want to do?"
"I don't know, man. We can do whatever you want but I'm honestly really hungry so I'd like to stop by Paty's first." you say closing the magazine. "Right." he smiles, you roll your eyes around his extremely disorganized room. "God, Carl. Did you know Fi has a laundry basket in the hallway? Or you could start washing them then." you turn up your nose when you smell one of his shirts.
"Ah... mind your own business girl!" he exclaims smiling and ruffling your hair, you shake your head. "Fuck, let's go to Paty's before I end up eating you." you sigh, feeling a knot in your stomach, Carl looks at you slyly "Oh no! Shit no! Carl fuck you!" you exclaim, closing your eyes tightly, denying it, but - I would like to - was what crossed your mind.
"Wow, ok. I thought you thought I was super hot and all..." he laments pretending to be offended, putting his hand to his chest. "Oh yes- yes you are. I just-" You can't find the words, he laughs with his total fishy face, not even able to think. "I understood. I'm just playing with you. Come on babe." he says laughing and pulling your shoulders to walk with him, you laugh but you're still extremely embarrassed by it.
"Hey, Ian!" Carl walks past him, Ian ruffles his hair. "Hi guys, and hi Y/N. I haven't seen you in like a week?" Ian says it more like a question, you nod. "And Kevin, have you recovered from your vasectomy?" "Yeah, I had to take some time off after I saw Frank fuck a homeless girl in the kitchen." Ian laughs loudly, throwing his head back in the chair. "I swear, it was 'fucking traumatizing!' you laugh along with him, Carl laughs at both of you. "Where are you going?" Ian asks with a beer in his hand. "Paty's, and then some Chicago alley." Carl responds. "beauty." Lip goes upstairs.
Carl walks to the front door, you stop him. "I think we'd better go around the back. There's a Frank passed out in your driveway." you say sarcastically, Carl rolls his eyes. "Fuck that old man." he says walking to the kitchen door, you follow him with a smile on your face.
You walk in front of your house, the truck is still in the driveway. "Do your parents really let you drive?" Carl asks as you turn the keys in the door. "Hm, no. Ve says I might get hurt, but Kev doesn't care. He thinks it's radical!" you say excitedly, Carl smirks at you.
"Too badass. I drive Fiona's car sometimes, it's nice." he comments, you two get in the car sitting on the seats. "Yes, it is. When I get my license, I'm going out at dawn with you to all the car races." you say smiling, which makes Carl smile as he remembers the things you guys did to make it to the city limits for the damn clandestine races. "Uh, great. I really don't want to have to bike to the end of Chicago."
"Right, right." you chuckle at it "Just a year to go or maybe two..." "Sixteen is the new seventeen." he says, you nod turning on the radio. "Birthday Sex" blasts through the loudspeakers, you and Carl singing the lyrics perfectly as if you were at a live show. In fifteen minutes you were already in Paty's, you park the car just before the entrance to the store. Carl walks out the door normally and you jump out of the truck, the two of you enter the diner.
You move to one of the tables facing the street, Carl follows you and you sit opposite each other. A knowledgeable attendant comes to you. "Hey guys, can I take your order?" she asks smiling, you take a good look at the menu even though you know it like the back of her hand. "Hey fely! An x-bacon with double fries and a coke. Please" Carl says, Felicity writes it down on paper. "What about you, Y/N? The same as always?" she asks still with a smile on her face, you think for a moment. "Hm... Same as him. And pancakes. With honey, lots of whipped cream and strawberries. Please." she notes. "Yes, someone had come to serve them." "Thanks." you both say thanks, she leaves to take more orders.
You two look at each other but don't say anything. You start snapping your fingers. "So…what have you been doing?" Carl asks breaking the silence. "The usual. Taking care of the bar, the twins, studying and sleeping. No big deal." you shrug your shoulders. "And have you been seeing anyone? Like a hookup?" you shake your head "No. Nobody. And you?" "Nobody either. But I like a girl." he says low, you're a little surprised. "Oh good Carl. Who is it?" "A girl over there, you don't know..." "Okay. Can you tell me about her?"
"Well, she's quite outgoing. She likes games and has questionable taste in music. She loves riding her old skateboard." he tells you the details, you laugh at the last remark. " She's a good girl so then. I'm happy for you, asshole." you run your hands through his hair, ruffling his strands. "Yeah, she is. She's pretty pretty too, like, awesome." You nod, seeing one of the waiters come with their orders. He puts it on the table, you thank him with smiles. You quickly pick up your burger and bring it to your mouth, taking a big bite.
The incredible taste of the fried bancon, the melted cheese and the grilled meat had you moaning in satisfaction. "Oh, God. This is fucking better than a blowjob!" you exclaim, Carl raises an eyebrow at you. "Have you ever gotten a blowjob in your life?" "No. But I got blown, and I'm sure I say this is way better." he shakes his head laughing, you notice the little bag of ketchup being poured into his burger, you frown at that sinful act. "Bro, are you really using that red sauce in a x-bacon? That's like a crime in Italy, man." you say taking another bite of yours, Carl throws the empty ketchup bag at you.
"Fuck Italy and its pizzas without ketchup! We're in America." he grumbles, you laugh. "That fucking is a godsend honey, there's no reason not to use it." "Uh, ok. At least you know Italy is not an American country." you mock him, Carl looks at you like you've said the most shocking thing in the world, the boy throws two potato in your face. "Hey you shit! Don't throw that at me." you exclaim, an elderly couple next to you complains about the noise. "Can you guys not scream or throw your cockroaches? Shitty ghetto teenagers. They don't know how to behave anywhere." the old woman mumbles the last sentence.
"I'm sorry gentlemen." you smile falsely at they, looking at Carl who was laughing hysterically. You shoot him a death glare. "Old bastards. I'm going to make these fags eat dust." you claim looking at your delicious pancakes. "But I'll get this over with first" "Yes you will." Cal says still laughing.
You finish quickly and compete with Carl to see who eats the most pancakes in the least amount of time, you obviously win with 7 pancakes in two minutes, but Carl is a good competitor with five. You both laugh when you notice that his lips are full of whipped cream, and so is the tip of his nose. The old people from before complain again, saying that you are noises. "Enough. I'm going to make this old woman hear some truths. Shitty South Zone bitch!" You get up from your desk, reaching into one of the pockets of your shorts, placing some bills on the table.
Carl too, with his wallet in his hands. "I pay." you two say together, laughing then. "Hey big boy, I pay. I brought you here, it's ok but next time it's you." you threaten with your lower finger pointed at him. "Right." "Now C-Dog, stand there and watch me fuck these old men." you tell him you're close to the exit. "Oh, go for it girl." he whispers to you, who gestures with your hands to him following you to the elderly couple's table.
"Hey good afternoon." you smile sympathetically sitting next to them. "What you want?" the woman asks arrogantly, looking you up and down. "Ah...no big deal. It's just that I actually heard you complain about me and the boy with me, I had to come here." you say sadist, eating a potato of them. "So what, girl?" She rolls her eyes. "It's just that I was a little hurt, you know? I thought you were pretty, that's fine for such an old age. But then you opened your little shit mouth, saying really prejudiced things. And I thought, I should punch some respect in this bitch." you wink at her, the lady looks at you with a hateful expression. "So, here's my darling lesson."
You pick up your glass of soda, you take a few sips, and then you spit the drink back into the glass. You smile at her before slowly pouring the coke under her head. She starts screaming getting the attention of customers calling you a ghetto rat. "Go back to the south side, motherfucker!" you exclaim, spitting in your food, standing up and feeling Carl proud stares at you. Fiona comes up to you, you think she's going to scold you but you're surprised when she applauds you. "Aren't you angry? Those customers with money never came back here." she denies smiling. "No, really. You did me a damn favor, I hate those old men, they always come here and complain about the food or my people."
"Oh, that's great then!" you smile, she nods throwing a cloth over her shoulders. "We left the money on the table, Bye Fi!" Carl yells opening the front door, she yells back an "ok" you walk out of there with you feeling insanely good. "Girl, I fucking worship you! You fucked with them." Carl exclaims jumping up and down, you laugh at him. "It's no big deal. It was deserved." you get in the car, and you start it. "Certainly." he says putting on his seat belt.
You start the pickup. Carl doesn't stop looking at you for a second, especially his hair flying in the wind invading the car through the windows. He's totally mesmerized by you, and seeing you defend him in a way has only made him more in love with you than he is. He was sure you were an amazing woman when you told him you faced men who were harassing you, but he was even more sure now, seeing your enviable posture up close.
That was the thing you loved most about Carl and that he admired most about you. You two wouldn't let anyone say shit about you, or whoever was important to you. It could be the biggest truth in the world, but the Gallagher's don't let anything go unnoticed. You had a trust that he sincerely always wanted to have for him, Carl was always a bully, stealing food and hitting some carusos when necessary. But you did even worse as a kid, and it's not something you're proud of, but you were just a kid angry about not being adopted.
And when Kevin and Veronica adopted you and welcomed you into their home, things changed, but there are things that don't change. "Where you want to go?" you ask, Carl blinks a few times. "I don't know... maybe in that abandoned terrano of the Díaz's? I heard that there are some people from our school going there to smoke and skip class."
"So that's where we're going, bro." you turn the car around the corner, turning onto the avenue. "Do you have cigarettes there? My dad never leaves them in the car because of the twins." he nods pulling a box out of his pants pocket. "Here." he hands you a pack, you hold it to your lips, Carl takes your lit lighter to the end of his cigarette, lighting it, you thank him.
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fifteen — need it
fuck ur instincts — suna x reader & atsumu x reader
you and suna are just fooling around—so why does he care so much when you start falling in love with someone else?
previous — masterlist — next
word count. 2k
content. swearing, thigh riding, use of pet names
You poke at your food, passively listening to Iwaizumi and Oikawa argue while you wait for the rest of your friends in the cafeteria. You look up from time to time hoping you’ll catch Atsumu walking over to you. He’s probably building a mountain of food for lunch.
It’s a busy day, the first day of the new semester, and the whole campus seems to be overcome with new life. Freshmen fumble around awkwardly while older students dole out sage advice about not mixing your alcohol or walking home alone. People catch up with friends, asking about summer and boyfriends. The whole place absolutely buzzes with busy chatter and joy.
The excitement is palpable and infectious. The perfect way to start your third year.
Someone clears their throat at your side.
You look up with a raised brow. “Hi?”
You recognize the boy from one of your lab classes. You don’t think you ever caught his name.
“Hi,” he says. “You’re Y/N, right?”
You nod. “And you are…”
“Right, uh, it’s Yukawa. From Dr. Ono’s class.”
“Yukawa, hi.” You offer him a polite smile. “What can I do for you?”
Oikawa and Iwaizumi stop talking on the other side of the table and turn to watch your exchange with the boy. Your best friend leans into his hand, yawning and knowing all too well where this conversation is going to go.
Yukawa clears his throat again. He’s obviously nervous. “I was wondering if you could send me notes from the orientation earlier,” he says before adding, “I-I noticed that you were taking a lot of them. Notes, I mean.”
You hear Oikawa snort and you kick him under the table. “Sure,” you say, letting out a light laugh to distract from your best friend’s groaning. “Let me get your number.”
“Yeah!” the boy says all too quickly. “I mean, yeah, sure. I can give you my number.”
You pull your phone out of your pocket and hand it over to him. “Just put it in here,” you tell him. Your eyes dart over to Iwaizumi as you mouth, “Stop laughing!”
Yukawa holds your phone out to return it to you, but as you’re about to take it, a hand reaches out from behind you and swipes it first.
“What—”
“Oh, ya got Y/N’s phone! How nice!”
You open your mouth to speak but Atsumu’s already sliding onto the bench next to you and placing his arm around your shoulder. He’s holding your phone in his hand, staring up at the boy whose number is imprinted on it.
“Are ya a classmate or somethin’?” he asks. His smile is so forced you almost burst out laughing (Oikawa is clearly not able to resist the urge as well as you can).
Yukawa nods with wide eyes. “Yeah, I was just asking for notes,” he explains. “You’re…”
“Miya, yeah,” Atsumu supplies. “Like the Miya on the jacket she’s wearing. Miya Atsumu if ya wanna be specific—hey, if yer classmates with Y/N then that means yer classmates with Iwaizumi too, right?”
“Oh, right!” Yukawa looks over to the other side of the table. “Iwaizumi. Hello.”
Your friend, a hand on Oikawa’s mouth, smiles. “Yeah. Hey, man.”
Atsumu bounces in his seat. “I have an idea!” he says. “Y’know, since I keep Y/N a little busy in her free time, keeping her up at night and all—”
“‘Tsumu!”
“—she might not be able to send ya those notes.” He makes an exaggerated frown. “Sad, yeah, I know.” He’s beaming again. “But here’s my idea! How ‘bout ya get yer notes from Iwaizumi instead? That way, ya get yer notes and Y/N gets some sleep.”
Iwaizumi hands Yukawa his phone, motioning for the boy to put his number in. “I’d do it if I were you.”
Gulping, he quickly types his number in and hands the phone back. “Thanks,” he says quietly. He turns to you. “I’ll see you around then, Y/N.”
“Probably not.” Atsumu wrinkles his nose and smiles as the boy scurries away. “Toodles!”
You punch his shoulder when Yukawa is out of earshot. “So uncalled for!”
“What?” he exclaims, laughing loudly. “He couldn’t take a hint!”
Suna and Aran join your table, watching with amused expressions as everyone starts cackling.
“What’d we miss?” Aran asks. He reaches over and grabs a fry from Atsumu’s food. “Finders keepers.”
The twin glowers at him, stealing a fry from Suna. “Finders keepers apparently.”
Suna groans and turns to you. “So, what happened?”
“A classmate asked for notes and ‘Tsumu was an ass.”
“Correction,” Atsumu leans over the table and points his fry at everyone, “a dude asked for ‘er number and I kindly told ‘im to fuck off.”
You narrow your eyes at him, trying to suppress the grin on your face. “And why do you think you can tell guys who ask for my number to fuck off?”
“Because,” he shrugs, placing a quick peck on your lips, “yer pretty.”
You roll your eyes and nudge his shoulder. “Phone please.”
“Oh, right,” he says, pulling your phone up onto the table. He pointedly deletes Yukawa’s number before handing it back to you. “There ya go.”
“Ass.”
“Pretty girl.”
“You guys are gross,” Oikawa says, gagging. Then, a thought seems to cross his mind and he lights up. “Did I ever tell you all about that one time in freshman year when Y/N pretended I was her boyfriend to stop a guy from giving her his number?”
You glare at him. “You were a terrible boyfriend, by the way.”
“Still is,” Iwaizumi adds, everyone bursting into peals of laughter as Oikawa starts ranting at him.
As everyone starts chatting and eating, you catch Suna staring at you, his eyes focused on the way Atsumu has you pressed against him. When he sees that you’ve caught him, he looks at you like he’s waiting for you to say something. For a moment, you really want to.
Why do you care? you want to ask.
But you don’t. Instead, you just give him a gentle smile and turn back to your conversation with Aran.
Fuck Rin.
You show Atsumu your phone, tilting the screen so he can see as the two of you walk back to your dorm. “I’m in the same lab group as Yukawa,” you tell him, pointing at your professor’s announcement. “Now, he hates me and I’m gonna fail.”
He pushes the door to your room open. “I won’t let ya.”
“Oh yeah?” you say teasingly. “How are you gonna do that?”
“Like this.”
Atsumu slams the door behind you and presses you up against it, capturing your lips in a kiss. It’s a little rougher than usual, like he’s trying to prove a point, but there’s still a sweetness to it. Like a kiss that’s supposed to mean something.
He picks you up by your thighs and you wrap your legs around him, holding onto his neck as you kiss him back. You open your mouth a little and feel his tongue dip inside as he pulls you closer to him. With his mouth still on yours, he sits down on your bed and lets you straddle him.
“Were ya really gonna text him?” he asks when he pulls away to catch his breath.
You shake your head. “No,” you tell him, dragging your tongue over his jaw, tasting the slightly salty tang of his skin. “I don’t like him. Didn’t even know his name.”
He chuckles breathlessly. “Ya make me crazy, d’ya know that?”
“I know,” you say, pulling him back into a kiss. “I think you’re making me crazy too.”
“Fuck,” he murmurs. He takes your head in his hands and presses his lips against yours, the kiss is hard and slow. When he pulls away, he moves his mouth to your ear. “Ride my thigh.”
You giggle. “Really?”
Atsumu runs his open mouth against your neck. “Need ya to feel good,” he tells you. “Need to remind ya just how good I make ya feel.”
You moan when he sucks on your neck. “Fuck, okay,” you say, shifting your position so that one of his legs is between both of yours. “Make me feel good, baby.”
He nips at your collarbone as his fingers make their way under your skirt and between your legs. He pushes your underwear out of the way, smirking when you hiss at the feeling of your bare cunt against his jeans. His finger slides between your folds.
“So wet already,” he says. He bounces the leg you’re sitting on, drawing a moan from you. “Ya gonna be good for me, sunshine?”
You feel your face heat up at the nickname. “Yes, ‘Tsumu,” you tell him, nodding eagerly. “I’ll be good for you.”
Slowly, you start rubbing yourself on his thigh. You drag your folds over him, moaning every time your clit touches the fabric of his pants. He bounces his leg again, smashing it into your sensitive bud, and you hold him tight, arms dangling over his shoulders.
“Makin’ yerself feel good, sunshine?” he asks in a voice that toes the line between taunting and adoring. “Ya makin’ a mess on my pants?”
You moan, your mouth opening and eyes closing, a blissed out look on your face. “Feels so good, ‘Tsumu,” you say. You continue drawing your hips over his legs, the muscles all tensed up and rock hard beneath you. “Fuck!”
He nips at your neck. “Ya think Yukawa could make ya feel this good?”
You shake your head and whimper as his arms wrap around your back. “No!”
“Ya think anyone else could make ya feel this good?”
“No, ‘Tsumu!”
“Yeah?” He grabs your hips and takes control of your movements, dragging you over his thigh like it’s nothing to him. “D’ya want anyone else?”
Your grip on him tightens as you shake your head again. “No, ‘Tsumu,” you say. “Only want you.”
He snickers. “That’s right, sunshine. I’m the only one yer ever gonna want. Only one yer ever gonna need.”
“‘Tsumu!” you scream as he starts bouncing his leg repeatedly, dragging you over him again and again. “Gonna come, ‘Tsumu!”
He grabs your jaw with one hand and kisses you, deeply, roughly, passionately. It wipes you out completely, making you forget how to breathe for a moment after he pulls away. “Come for me, sunshine,” he tells you. “Let me make ya feel good.”
You hold onto him for dear life as his thigh bounces up to meet your clit again and your high hits you. You’re shaking in his arms as he coos into your ear about how good you’re being, how much he loves the way he makes you feel. You grab onto his shirt, your legs wrapped so tightly around him.
You whine against his shoulder as you come down from your high. “‘Tsumu…”
“I got ya, sweetheart,” he tells you, rubbing his hands up and down your back. “Made ya feel good, didn’t I?”
“Always make me feel good.”
“Always?”
You hum in contentment, slowly letting go of him to look at his face. He’s red as can be, sweating a little as he smiles at you. You smile back. “Always.”
He places a hand on your cheek and kisses you again. “Y/N,” he says as he pulls back. His nose brushes against yours. “Don’t think I can stand ya gettin’ numbers from other guys anymore.”
You furrow your brows, lips still curled into a smile. “What are you getting at?”
Atsumu pulls your hand into his and kisses your knuckles, his eyes still on you. “Kinda want you all to myself,” he tells you. “Might actually need it.”
“Oh.” Your eyes are wide. “‘Tsumu—”
“Ya don’t need to say anythin’ now,” he tells you. “I know yer always a little out of it after ya come.”
A small chuckle escapes your lips. You run a hand through his hair and find that it’s surprisingly soft. “Are you sure?”
He nods, placing a kiss on your cheek. “‘Course,” he tells you. “Take yer time. Just want ya to know that I’m right here waiting.”
You close your eyes and let yourself rest against him, sighing as you feel his arms hold you tight. Then, you murmur, “I think I messed with your jeans a little too much.”
“Worth it.”
“‘Tsumu!”
“Just sayin’!”
notes. jealous atsumu >>>> AND YES IWAOI IS CANON IN THIS SERIES NO ONE CAN STOP ME THIS IS THE ONE HILL I WILL DIE ON
also team rin i hope you’re still alive, the plot has not been kind to you guys 🥲
#hqbaby.fyi#hqbaby#haikyuu#suna rintarou#suna#suna rintarou x reader#suna x reader#miya atsumu#atsumu#miya atsumu x reader#atsumu x reader#haikyuu x reader#suna rintarou fic#suna fic#miya atsumu fic#atsumu fic#atsumu smut#haikyuu fic
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Skink-In-Tree's-Shade
Can I talk to you for a moment about my lord and saviour Skink-in-Tree's-Shade?
Morrowind has these NPCs who stick in my mind, despite not having much dialogue. No one in Morrowind has much individual dialogue to be honest, except for Dagoth Ur who is nice and chatty and sends you letters and erotic dreams.
Skink-in-Tree's-Shade has more dialogue than most. He's the head of the Mages guild in Sadrith Mora. Let that sink in! He's an Argonian heading the Mages' guild tiny outpost (they have a big room to themselves!) in the middle of Telvanni territory. This guy has balls. He's made the Telvanni respect him.
Locals of Sadrith Mora will offer reluctant praise.
"Of course, most Mages Guild wizards are pathetic clowns. But I must admit, that lizard that goes by the barbarous title of 'Skink-in-Tree's-Shade' is a very astute practitioner, almost as sage and learned as Telvanni aspirants five times his age. But I have heard he carries his anti-slavery politics a little too far, and much farther than Imperial law allows."
The implication is he is using his position in Sadrith Mora to help slaves escape and the Mages guild must know this.
Neloth's Mouth says of him:
Skinks-in-Trees's-Shade seems like a decent sort... for an Argonian. But he has an unhealthy interest in vampires."
The unhealthy interest? He's actually searching for a cure! He sends you to find the testimony the Temple suppressed from a guy cured of vampirism. I would call this a healthy interest myself. Again, this guy has balls.
Last but not least, Skink-in-Tree's-Shade enables my favourite resolution of the Mages' guild quest. Arch-Mage Trebonius is more and more erratic towards the end of the Mages questline and ends up ordering the assassination of the entire Telvanni council and telling you to find out what happened to the Dwemer. You can fight him or decide to live with him as Arch-Mage, but If you bring him up to Skink-in-Tree's Shade, he says
"[if you are Argonian] Ah, the current Guildmaster. It is rumored that he was promoted to his current position to get him out of Cyrodiil. It is one of the weaknesses of the soft-skins. They can have power without wisdom."
[Else.] "Ah, the current Guildmaster. It is rumored that he was promoted to his current position to get him out of Cyrodiil. It is a shame that men can have power without wisdom. It is different for us lizards."
Then hands you a letter to deliver to Trebonius. It's a letter from Chancellor Ocato firing Trebonius as Arch-Mage and replacing him with you.
Skink-in-Tree's-Shade saw how badly Trebonius was fucking everything up, and quietly wrote Chancellor Ocato to get him fired. Skink-in-Tree's-Shade, head of this very small, powerless chapter of the Mages guild, has the ear of the Chancellor of the Empire, and when he has had enough, he gets what he wants.
This guy is obviously a powerful and influential wizard who has come to Sadrith Mora because his work there is important and abstained from climbing the career ladder back in the Imperial City. He won't even try for head of the Morrowind guild. But in this finale, you finally get a sense of his full reputation and influence.
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BELATED HAPPY BIRTHDAY HARUNO SAKURA!!!!!
(The internet in the province is so shitty and I just came home and god, it's like I failed my duty as a hardcore fan of Sakura on not greeting her 😭)
💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖
MY GIRL IS SO LOOKING PRETTY!!! 😭😭😭😭😭😭 (Yes I've been eating up those videos on tiktok, what can I say? its my drug)
MY BEAUTIFUL GIRL ON HER ELEMENT!!!!
(Credits to the owners of this fantastic artwork)
Okay, I've got goods. I wanna recommend on how badass she is and everyone should read it. Since you know I'm a whore of KakaSaku, be ready that I'll recommend fics with this pairing.
The Sixth Shadow
Created by @thinknicht | ao3
⇀ Holy fuck, this is my shit. My drug that keeps me alive. Sakura on this fic is so badass. Aside from the freaki-delicious KakaSaku moments, the most favorite thing I like the most on this fic are:
❀ the medical aspect
❀ the political settings in Konoha
❀ the fight scenes
❀ the unreliable narrator tag (please be aware on this tag)
❀ Sakura's compassion (this woman is a mother!!!!!!! someone should put a statue of her at the center of Konoha!)
❀ Sakura's emotional conflict towards Kakashi. (It's not pining. This is the most important point.)
I have no words—this fic is so *slowly ascends*
Silver Lining
Created by @thinknicht | ao3
⇀ This fic has made me think everything. Like I've daydreamed so much. I thought the Fourth Shinobi War, Kaguya, Naruto and Sasuke, that weirdass cocoon, and also Kakashi and Sakura. Thinkie is truly an enigma, fucking hell, her brain is so good.
The Healing Slugs Sage
Created by @justabrazilianwriter | ao3
⇀ Dimension travel. This is it. AHHHHH!! Do you know how happy I am like *punching in the air* and its' KAKASAKU????
Obito throws Sakura in a different dimension where medical knowledge is so stunted due to the absence of Tsunade's existence. I know Obito cares about Sakura, but I can't help to thank the man of being a matchmaker HAHAHA!
The Idol
Created by sassafrassing | ao3
⇀ Do you know how many times I read this???? Do you how many times I type this title in the search box whenever I open my chrome??? This fic is so glorious.
Two broken souls were ready to end their lives, but fate strings them together that blooms for a second chance.
Holy shit, I love the scene where Sakura caress Kakashi's hair as he laid down on her lap. AHHHHH!!!
I whisper scream when Kakashi decide to go back at the field to save his team and like—AHHHHH!!!
A Four Week Class in Flirting, Seduction, and Bagel Making Created by @goldfishlover73 | ao3
⇀ Talking about tension and baking, what a dangerous combination lmaooo! I smiled so stupidly when Kakashi watch Sakura as if there is no people in the room—and oh fucking god, the frencchhhhhh!!!
The Fall
Created by BelleDayNight | ao3
⇀ I would like to thank the discord server scarecrows and cherryblossoms for this theme. This fic is so chef's kiss. Fallen angel Kakashi??? And the Dark Kakashi tag???? Perfection 👌
This beautiful AU and Run with the Hares (Hunt with the Hounds) of @brighteuphony
⇀ Let's start with the former which it held my love (because Sakura's hair is so fluffyyyyyy!!!!!!! and she's so badass holy fuck) and Im so hyped on the latter tbh! It only has 1 chapter, but I held my sanity so tight on not to read it for now.
That's all for now. There are lots lots of KakaSaku fics, but these fics has grab me by the throat and read it.
Anyways, happy birthday Haruno Sakura! 💖💖💖🌸🌸🌸🌸
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Hi! i’d like to ask for Wukong and Macaque (separate) with a short, chubby, gardener reader if you haven’t done that already! Like maybe reader could be growing a peach or plum tree and the boys come by for some!
Hi anon! I love this idea and I hope you like it!!
Wukong and Macaque (separate) with a short, chubby, gardener reader
Sun Wukong
The moment he hears that not only is his crush a gardener and very in tune with nature but loves growing peach trees and is a close friend of MKs…yeah he’s already on his way over there. He tries his best not to overwhelm you with his energy and politely asks for a peach, unable to hide the way his tail excitedly wagged and the genuine grin that crept up on his face when you said for him to take his pick.
You weren’t that far from the harbor or the city so it wasn’t out of his way and found himself visiting you every day, getting more familiar with you and eventually getting the invite from you to come and go as he pleased (as long as he didn’t do anything stupid which you did further clarify when he asked you to be specific due to past….events). Assuring him that he’d have to screw up pretty bad you to ban him from your life and offering to have lunch with him which he happily accepted, talking about your daily life and how different his was on Flower Fruit Mountain.
One day you woke up late to knocking on your door as thunder roared outside your house, thinking nothing of it as you covered your head with the comforter before hearing your front door open as rain pelted on your wood floors and shot up with a bat you always kept beside you in your hands. In front of you, you saw the Great Sage Equal to Heaven dripping wet from the storm holding an armful of peaches with a concerned expression quickly replaced with one of relief and humor.
Wukong explained that on his way over here it started thundering quite badly and swept up some of the peaches that had fallen on the ground (still edible but just shaken off from the wind), concerned about how you were holding up since the weather was more equivalent to a hurricane than a storm and figured he’d spend the time at your place until the storm was over. You of course were now concerned for his family back on the mountain to which his reply was they were all safely in Water Curtain Cave and that he figured spending some time baking with the peaches he’d gathered would be fun, secretly very touched when you’d expressed concern for his brothers and sisters and also how adorable you looked shocked awake with your hair scattered everywhere.
Six-Eared Macaque
He was just walking around one day and smelled something good, stumbling upon your orchard and seeing a variety of fruit trees; his eye spotted a couple of plum and mango trees in the corner of the field. As he was making his way over, he saw you in another row of trees picking fruit to put in your basket and paid you no mind, you were just some simple human.
He jumped onto a branch upon seeing a ripe-looking plum and going to take a bite after rubbing it on his sleeve when he heard you yell at him, looking down to see you looking both confused and annoyed at him. Hearing you reasonably get mad at him for eating the stuff you use to make a living and he sassily responds that one plum missing won’t ruin your life to which you flip him and yell at him to fuck himself…To which he could go away but where’s the fun in that when he found someone so interesting?
You see him every. single. day. after that first interaction and every time you interact, it’s the same old song and dance with him giving you a sassy remark and you telling him to fuck off. But each time you both get closer and become more friends than the tolerable asshole I interact with, eventually you both get to look forward to your meetings and ask how the other’s day was (learning the actual names of one another). One day though is different from the rest.
It was nearing sunset and you were at the back of your orchard, picking ripened fruit for the market tomorrow and putting broken or torn fruit in a bin for compost (definitely not picking some savory fruits for the shadow demon basically living with you) when you heard a branch snap in the thick forest nearby with growling not shortly after.
You nearly dropped the basket you were holding and backed away from the mother bear with her cubs moving closer to you, the small furred cubs eating scarred apples and mangos that had already gone to insects, and nearly jumped at you before someone got in front of you. Macaque now stood in front of you with a pointed bo staff made of a swirling black shadow-like material and eyes glowing violet as he bared his teeth, a low growl building in the back of his throat and poison dripping from his words. “Go.”
That was all it took for them to run, scurrying back into the forest and leaving the two of you alone with adrenaline still coursing through you. Both of you made it back to your house with some fruit, the shadow demon lightly joked about how he might as well just start living with you if these things keep happening, and you said he was more than welcome to.
Yeah, that was all it took for both of you to become roommates with more mornings filled with tangled limbs (Macaque seeking you out for both warmth and comfort) and you both playfully flirt with each other, baking and keeping each other company at the marker when you have to leave.
#lmk x reader#lmk macaque x reader#lmk sun wukong#lmk sun wukong x reader#lego monkie kid x reader#sun wukong x reader#six eared macaque x reader#lmk macaque
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There's a certain class of public intellectual - the two examples I have in mind are Bryan Caplan and Freddie deBoer, who otherwise have very little in common - who is genuinely quite smart and articulate, and able to defend their positions against almost everyone they debate with (including other people smart and articulate enough to be serious public intellectuals), and who therefore come across as being Well Up There in the human tiers. And then, every so often, whether from hubris or just sheer bad luck - they'll go up against someone with Serious Brainpower and they will get absolutely fucking smashed. Bryan Caplan tried to critique Huemer's book and came out of it looking a lot like the coyote after his own steamroller has squashed him flat; FdB had the very bad luck to post about EA a few hours before the sage Alexander did, which perhaps made his post come to Scott's attention in a way it otherwise wouldn't, and a day later there was a SlateStarCodex post that took FdB's position apart entirely, thoroughly, and without visible effort.
It's like watching, say, the Romanians in WWII going up against late-war Russians: These armies are visibly roughly the same thing, they both have tanks and machine guns and a reasonably up-to-date officer corps, it's not like bolt-action rifles against spears and shields. (That would be a normie trying to argue with the likes of Caplan.) And nonetheless one of these armies is about to cease to exist as a serious military organisation.
And nonetheless both bloggers are multiple tiers removed from the average human! I will give Caplan the win against everyone he's ever debated except Huemer and Alexander; and of course most of those people are still people literate enough to actually come to his attention, far beyond any possible effort of a normie Reddit poster; and even Reddit posters (in politics discussions, that is) are (generally) at least capable of reading a few hundred words and posting some moderately grammatical sentences in tangentially-relevant response, putting them easily in the top 50% of humans.
I get kind of used to reading Scott Alexander (quite aside from anything else, he just posts a lot!) and that makes it easy to forget just how much of a mutant superman he really is. And then you watch fairly heavyweight writers like FdB get casually flattened, and you go "Oh, right... born under a red sun."
#this is a scott alexander fan blog#the craft and the community#the sage alexander#the rightful caliph
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totk spoilers but are we ACTUALLY meant to think it’s poetic or flattering or triumphant that Rauru was like “oh YEAH? Well in thousands of years this guy called Link is gonna kick your ass”
How much has he even heard about Link? He must have had at least one more conversation about him with Zelda because the Master Sword doesn’t come up in the Zelda and Sonia tear, and by the King’s Duty tear Rauru’s just like oh don’t worry, if we don’t finish Ganondorf off I’m sure your bf can handle him. As I’ve said before, his “We rely on your knight” line rubbed me the wrong way starting with its appearance in the trailer, and it really does not feel less entitled after watching said knight (and that legendary sword he carries) very very VERY nearly get one-shotted by Ganondorf at the beginning of the game. And Zelda knows this! What does she feel watching her Better Dad Substitute sacrifice himself and simultaneously sic the evil bad guy on Link—a siccing which explicitly shapes Ganondorf’s attitude towards Link at the beginning of the game? At what point did she have the emotion of “welp. I know why Ganondorf knew Link’s name now.” The musical blending of the LOZ theme/hero’s theme with Rauru’s theme seems to suggest that it’s not an emotion meant to be had at exactly that moment, but I cannot watch Rauru sneer “remember that name” without yelling HE DOESN’T NEED THAT INFORMATION at the screen.
I played through the GSI in Japanese recently and Rauru did seem a touch less entitled to Link than I’ve been reading him—mostly because of the formal, polite, outgroup-equal language he used with him—but I still can’t get over the extent to which Rauru heard about Link a few times and decided, sight unseen, that he was going to clean up Rauru’s mess. My man what made you think that. What gave you the right to decide that. And how frightening to be Zelda and watch Rauru pin all the world’s hope on her beloved knight who Ganondorf absolutely fucking wiped the floor with. We see this worry in her in the Master Sword in Time cutscene! To what extent can Zelda’s transformation and before that her petition to the other tribes of Hyrule for Link’s sake be understood as a forced action due to Rauru’s conviction that Link could do this no sweat? Almost entirely, I feel—but does the game know that?
I just. Isn't it intentional? Doesn't it have to be? The fact that Rauru already needs the correction, once, that he cannot and should not face the Demon King alone. Then his melodramatic claim that Link has got this on lock. Then Zelda being like 😬 not sure about this actually and going through the whole process of talking to the ancient sages + draconifying for the sake of the Master Sword. Because Rauru absolutely set Link up to fail and Zelda is the one making sure Link has the resources, including the support of others, he needs to succeed. And the game is so much about community, about not doing things on your own.
And yet the way the scene is scored and animated and the way all the other characters talk about Rauru's sacrifice seems to treat this as a a moment of culmination, of triumph. I am getting such mixed messages here.
Understand, I’m saying all of this with an aching fondness for this poor self-deluded hypocrite. And also teeth-grinding frustration. I think he deserves to feel suffocatingly humiliated when Link almost didn’t survive Ganondorf’s attack and I also have tremendous sympathy for the shame and terror that it might be far too late to correct his mistake that he must have felt as he waited for Link to wake up. Both of those things. Hopelessly lonely man who found people to love him and built himself into a role he was never adequate for. I wish the game looked at this a little more. I wish I could tell if the game intended this at all.
(This is not the most intelligently written post but I assure you I mean every word of it.)
#totk spoilers#tears of the kingdom#totk rauru#rauru (lozbotwtotk)#tou and the tearful kingdom#bad and imperialist zonai get put in the goat wiggler#nintendo look at me. look at me. do you KNOW how interesting your character is. did you do it on PURPOSE. or am I making this UP.#I love him I hate him I am shaking his terrarium SO SO SO SO HARD every day
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Don’t Underestimate Me.
~AGED UP Neteyam x reader
~Explict content, Neteyam is 22, reader is 21.
~Proofread?~yes
~Summary-You were always extremely close with Kiri. Growing up so close with the girl you were bound to meet her family. You always believed Neteyam to be so uptight and boring, you were so very wrong.
***
The night had started like any other night. You and Kiri often snuck out to hang out around the “spot.” Only kids around your age went, and no adults were allowed. A great place to cool off, and talk with friends after a long week.
You had just arrived with the girl, laughing, when you noticed the boy. Your eyes lingered on him, blatantly eye-fucking him. You would admit, you found the boy super attractive. You unconsciously fixed your hair as you walked to take your seat near him. His eyes were the first thing to drag you in, a sort of mystery, something many people miss at first glance. I mean, he was your best friend’s older brother, he was never at the spot, and always off doing some training with his father. He was next in line so much to live up to, yet your mind and body still wanted him.
The boy licked his lips, and a wish fell in your mind that it was your mouth he was licking. You were sure the boy had no experience with women. He was too busy with his duties, watching his siblings, and being the perfect son to be dealing with such things. Soon, you were to find out how wrong you were. You often imagined how it feels being his first time, his mate. How it would feel to be swollen with his child. Your mind was ahead of your body because as of right now, he believes you were nothing but his sister’s friend. And you were dying to change that.
You noticed the cup he held in his hand, you slowly made your way to him, watching him carefully. You gave a small smile as you sat next to him, “what are you drinking?” his eyes scanned your body, giving you a boost of confidence. “Nothing a little girl like you should be drinking,” you chuckled out loud, “there are no adults out here, give me a sip.” you had already assumed he would say no, as you watched him bring the cup to his mouth. His hands found their way to the back of your neck as he titled you back ever so slightly, “open for me,” to which you gladly did.
The drink burned the back of your throat as you took the drink in. With his hand on your neck and his breath almost fanning your face, you clenched your legs tight. You feared he or some other male would smell the scent of arousal that left your legs. Neteyam was no stranger to the smell that engulfed you two, just by your body language he knew where your mind was. He was willing to do anything to you, but he just had to be sure.
He brought his mouth close to your ear, “I see the way you clench, do you want me to fuck you?” his words caused your heart to speed up, “teyem,” you called him out by nickname causing a smile, “such a dirty girl.” your attraction had been found out, but he didn't push you away in disgust or politely decline your advances, he indulged in the way your body called out for him. His eyes called out for more. You had been the one making advances, the roles completely switch as a dominant energy waved off the boy. 
“Sage we are heading back now!” Kiri’s words rang reminding you of your current state. “Sage said she’ll stay back and clean with me, right?” Neteyam said as he removed his hand from behind you, “yea I’ll catch up with you later,” you turned and smiled at the girl, “alright!” she smiled back before leaving with the group.
Still turned as you watched everyone else leave, you felt a hand find its place around your neck, this time with a stronger grip. Out of reflex, your hand grabbed the larger hand causing Neteyam to coo at you, “you're just so pretty.” His other hand trailed down your body looking for somewhere to stop, he let go of your neck manhandling you to your knees. “You're a good girl, right?” you nodded your head looking at the bulge under his loincloth, “I’ll do whatever you want,” he smiled at your words taking his loincloth off and showing off the hard cock he had hidden.
You take the cock in your hand, rubbing up and down attempting to fit in your mouth. Before you could even lick the tip, he put his hand on your chin. “Open wide,” he shoved fingers in your mouth, “so ready aren't you?” you nodded as you sucked his fingers. He grabbed the cock, which was dripping in precum, and brought it to your mouth. You gladly let him control your head, as he played with you as if you were some disposal toy.
His moans echoed in the air, making you even wetter, “shit, Sage,” you slowly found yourself dragging your hand to your lower parts, rubbing the clit lightly. “Aw, are you that desperate? You can’t even wait for me to finish?” his words turned you on as he made your head go faster. His moans became high-pitched as his load fell in your mouth. “Don't waste a single drop,” following his orders you swallowed the whole thing, showing your tongue off as proof.
He pushes you softly into the grass, bringing his head down to your legs,“ so wet, just for me,” he smiled before digging his fingers deep into you, a loud moan echoing. He watched your lips as drool fell from them, you were too far gone to notice anyway. The pleasure continued as his pace sped up, “I’m gonna cum, Neteyam!”
He smirked at you, slowly taking his fingers out, causing you to whine, “no, please let me-,” he cut you off with a kiss. You returned it attempting to drag his hand back, he broke the kiss, “oh, baby you didn't think it was that easy, did you? I’ll let you come when I want, whenever I want. You are mine now.”
His words, in any sane person, would cause fear, but for you, it caused a small heartbeat in between your legs. “I wouldn't want anybody else,” you said smiling at him, “but you are gonna let me cum.” you assumed your words would make him return to in between your legs, but they only made him smile and walk off.
You followed behind the boy, screaming his name. But to him, this was only the first part eventually you would become his perfect toy.
***
Ya’ll I’ve had a lot of free time this week to write!! I was your comments from my last story, and I’ll definitely try and make a second part!! Hope you all enjoy this one!
#avatar way of water#neteyam#jake sully#avatar#avatar loak#avatar neytiri#neteyam x y/n#avatar smut#neteyam smut#loak x reader#neytiri
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