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lowkeyaesthvtic · 4 years

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Fiery and Frozen

Pairing: poly!Sea Three (Uma x Harry x Gil)

Summary: The Sea Three get sent home from Auradon Prep early due to a snow storm. The boys want to turn on the fireplace, but Uma has other plans

Word Count: 4,146 (that’s right, it’s a long boy)

Warnings: major major MAJOR explicit smut, light bondage, dom!Uma, switch!Harry, sub!Gil, I feel like the post will get banned if I explain everything so just read with caution

Author’s Note: This is the first of three (I think three?) smuts that follow the smut dialogue prompts I reblogged a while back. This particular one has prompts 16 and 94

The air outside was nearly arctic, and the howling wind didn’t help too much. Ice quietly tapped against every surface of every building in Auradon. Those who made the dull-witted decision to skip out on layering for that day came back to their dorms with high chills on their skin and a blue or purple tint to their lips. Uma, Harry, and Gil had all made that mistake.

School had been cancelled early that day, as did all after school activities. Some were happy to be sent home early, eager to catch up on homework, take a nap, whatever they wish. Others were upset about the cancellation of their beloved tourney practice or rehearsal for Auradon’s Speech and Debate team. These swashbucklers, however, only cared about staying warm.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Harry mumbled as he shut their dorm room door behind them. Goosebumps trailed along his pale skin from one muscled arm to the next. For the first time in a long time, he would publicly admit to being desperate for something. In the case? Warmth.

“I don’t get it...yesterday it was sunny. Like, really sunny. Did someone cast a spell? Is Auradon cursed again?” Gil asked as he walked over to their bed and looked for blankets, hoodies, anything to warm themselves from the frost outside their window. Uma sat on their bed and crossed one leg over the other as she eyed her boys up and down. Despite them being tinted a dark blue, Uma could not stop thinking about their lips. The cold skin trailing along every inch of her body as she’d curl her icy fingers down their bare backs.

“Nope. Evie told me earlier today that they got hit with something similar this time last year. She had the perfect cure for it, though.” She smirked and walked over to the small fireplace in their nearly luxurious bedroom. They had only added tiny Isle-esque touches so far, and they did intend on adding more. But for now, their bedroom would look like a weird mix of their home on the Isle and the fresh, pristine style of Auradon. With the fireplace on, the boys quickly sped over to sit on the foot of the bed and face the roaring heat emitting from across them.

The boys sighed in relief. But said relief was quickly cut in half when Uma stood in front of the fireplace, blocking some of the heat that would be warming them. She stood facing them, hands on her hips and looking at them with hungry eyes. “Well? Don’t you want to know what the cure is?” She asked innocently, hoping the tease in her tone would help them take the hint.

Harry immediately caught on, knowing that slight tease in her voice from a mile away. He smirked devilishly and gave a low chuckle. Gil, however, bless his pirate soul, was sitting there with his head slightly cocked to the side in confusion. “I thought the fireplace was the cure?” Gil asked.

The dark-locked pirate stood and tenderly greeted his girlfriend, placing a stray hair behind her face. “Hmmm, it seems he’s not catching the hint. More for me?” Harry quietly cooed in her ear. Uma smiled softly, inching in closer to him as if she were going to kiss him. Harry was swiftly surprised, however, when she tightly gripped his hair and pushed him down to his knees. Harry melted into the touch, loving the fluttery, fiery feeling he received when Uma reminded him who was in charge.

“Not if you’re gonna behave like that.” Uma began to walk closer to Gil, but stopped when she heard shuffling movement from behind her. She briskly turned and gave Harry her dominating glare. “Did I say you could get up? Stay there.” Uma gritted through her teeth as she turned to Gil with a sweet grin. “Gil, do you understand what I’m asking for, here?”

Gil could already feel his breath getting a hint heavier. He knew exactly what she wanted, but he had a role to play. This was a lustful dynamic the three of them had built far before they had decided to take their relationship in a more romantic direction. Harry was a feisty one. He’d have his days where all he wanted to do was tease his sunshiney boy more and more, inching towards the brink of release, but swiping it every time. He was bratty, too. Flirtatious and hedonistic as if the feeling of Gil and Uma’s bodies against his was a drug..no, a religion to him. He could be as teasing and devilish with Gil as he wanted to be, but the minute his Captain stepped in, it’s as if a switch in his mind, body, and soul flipped. What was once a fiery, near chaotic little demon became an obedient first mate, eager to please and serve his Goddess.

Uma always took charge. She’d command every kiss, every touch, every lingering piece of skin on her and her boys. If she asked her boys to jump, they’d ask how hard..how deep, and they had to do it willingly. Because their Captain was merciless, brutal, yet burning ecstasy in punishment.

Gil? Gil was the sunshine boy. Innocent and a tad dumb both in the streets and somewhat in the sheets. He was always submissive. Almost always excited. He would be a bit naive at first, supposedly fronting like he didn’t have a lot of experience. But once the foreplay was done, that would be the complete opposite. Gil is like a rabbit. Sweet and adorable but horny as fuck. And that showed in his actions. He was needy of pleasure both for himself and his partners, and giving out a naive front was a part of that need.

“I, I think so? Can you...can you tell me?” Uma quietly giggled and slowly shifted herself on to Gil’s lap, wrapping her legs around his waist. She runs her hands gently through his blonde locks and placing a finger under his chin, leans his head up to gaze directly into her dark brown eyes.

“Oh, sweetie. Why tell..when I can just show?” Uma whispered before leaning in to place a kiss on Gil’s soft, pouty lips. Their lips collided deeply and passionately, dancing with each other in a fiery masquerade. Uma couldn’t keep her hands off of Gil’s rock hard, bulging biceps and Gil revelled in every cold touch she gave him. Harry sat back in longing, the sounds of their needy groans and content, quiet sighs filling the room and seeping into his skin. Gil quickly moved down to Uma’s neck, sucking and biting hard enough to leave love bites that blended near perfectly with her dark skin. A small moan slips from Uma as she leans back and takes a quick look at how Harry’s reacting to all of this. She quickly pushes Gil down, his back laying on the soft bed. As she takes off his shirt, she leans down and cooes loud enough for the dark haired pirate behind her to hear. “Gil, why don’t we warm ourselves up a bit, hm?” Gil slowly nods, feeling his erection growing harder with every ounce of her breath he feels on his skin.

“But...but what about Harry?” Gil looked up just for a moment to check on his kneeling boyfriend. He wasn’t quite a mess just yet, but the animal was definitely not liking his cage. His mind was racing, eyes fixed on Gil’s bare chest. He knew that as soon as Uma gave him the permission to, he’d ravage that naive boy enough to make Gil scream his name. The idea of pinning Gil’s arms to the bed as he’d suck and bite on every inch of his skin, teasing his hard, twitching cock until the very last second made Harry’s erection very visible through his black pants. Harry looked to Uma and gave her a gaze that silently begged for permission to stand, to move, to do anything other than sit here and watch. Uma chuckled and positioned herself right on top of Gil’s growing erection, causing a pleasured moan to slip from the boy’s lips.

“We’re gonna give him a show first. Now, be a good boy and do what I tell you. That won’t be so hard, will it?” Gil shakes his head, knowing that the moment he disobeys her he will regret it. Uma smiles and continues kissing every inch of his body, one hand gripping onto his shoulder as she digs her nails into his skin as the other hand rests on Gil’s right thigh. She perks her firm, supple ass a bit higher into the air, knowing it’d drive her first mate crazy. By the time she leans up to examine her work, Gil’s neck and chest are covered in marks varying in shades of red and purple. Gil whines at the loss of contact, but is relieved of the sudden loss when he feels her grinding against his crotch. In his pleasured haze, he hadn’t noticed that Uma had stripped of nearly all her clothes, leaving her only in a pair of lacey, dark blue panties.

But Harry had seen every bit of it. He knew from the second she removed her brown belt what she was doing to him. He marveled how she swayed out of her dress to the beat of every possible song that was blaring in his mind. He nearly growled when she turned around and flashed him a wink as she removed her bra and tossed it to the floor beside them. Not seeing her breasts, but only the curves and divots of her back and hips was the biggest tease she had given him. He wanted to touch her so bad, feel her lips crash onto his pale body and please every inch of her skin as Gil lingered his tongue up and down his cock. But, like a puppet on strings, he had no choice but to stay still.

Uma continued to grind against Gil’s hard cock, loving the feeling it gave her but needing just a little more. She moved her hand from Gil’s shoulder to his blonde lock, giving a strong tug. Gil quietly winced and the mix of pain and pleasure that she gave him, but he loved every bit of it. He needed to feel her mouth on him like a fish needed the ocean water coursing through every breath. “Uma..please..I need you.” He begged, eyes glazing over with wanton.

At his begging remark, Uma leans down and growls into his ear. “Did I say you could speak, my little rabbit?” She ceased her grinding and stood up, motioning to a needy Harry to stand beside her. “I’ll have to admit, I loved hearing you beg. Maybe our needy Harry over here can help you beg a bit more, hm?” As Harry stood beside her, she pulled him in and quickly crashed their lips together. After being without her touch for so long, it felt like ecstasy to finally get some attention. They ran their hands all over each other, Harry taking every chance he could get to grip her soft breasts. He started to move down to her neck when she pushed him back. “I’ve gotta get something. You two have fun while I’m gone.” As she walked away, she whispered a subtle command to her first mate. “I want him a mess when I’m back. But don’t let him come, you got that?” Moving his gaze to the desperate blonde in front of him, he slowly nodded with a devilish snicker. Uma walked off, heading towards a special closet in a different part of their home.

Harry quickly rushed on top of Gil, stripping off his jacket and shirt with haste. Using his strength, he pulled Gil up closer to him, their chests touching skin to skin. “Wait, what did she tell you?” Gil asked in between quiet moans as Harry left even more love bites across his neck and shoulders.

“Shut up and take your pants off.” Harry responded, to which Gil obliged. Soon enough, both of the boys were naked and revelling in each other’s touch. Heat, lust, and utter desire roaring in the both of them. Like an entrancing snake, Harry slithered down Gil’s chilled body, leaving both wet and soft kisses down every inch until he finally licked a long, wet stride up the blonde’s hard cock. The sensation sent shivers up Gil’s spine as he leaned his head back and let a needy moan release into their bedroom. Gripping onto his thighs strong enough to leave red marks, Harry soon became a little rougher with his tongue. Gil intertwined his fingers in his dark, messy locks as Harry switched back and forth between speedily bobbing up and down and teasing licks from the base to his tip. Harry had always been a fan of control when it came to Gil, doing everything he could to remind the muscle that no matter how big and strong he was, he’d always be a good boy for a teasing, devilish imp like himself.

Harry kept himself trapped in between Gil’s legs, his pace growing quick and rough as Gil bucked his hips and let his cock hit the back of Harry’s throat. Gil could feel the warmth in his stomach beginning to bubble over as he longed for release. “Harry...please.” He moaned out as he neared his climax. Harry let go of his cock with an audible pop and continued gliding his fingers along the inside of Gil’s thighs, relishing in the small shivers and squirms the blonde pirate gave.

“Sorry, rabbit. Uma gave me orders. I have to follow them.” He slid back from in between Gil’s legs and moved to straddle him. He leaned down to his boyfriend’s ear and whispered lowly. “You know how to follow orders, don’t you?” As Harry’s hand went to tightly grip Gil’s throat, the two pirates could hear the door opening and Uma walking in with an evil smile on her face. There she stood with a pair of red, leather handcuffs in one hand and a bottle of lube in the other. Harry speedily removed himself from Gil and began to saunter closer to Uma, eyeing the cuffs like a hungry wolf. “What exactly do you have planned, Captain?” Uma let out a soft chuckle before looking over to Gil.

“Gil, my rabbit, lean up against the headboard, will you?” Gil quickly nodded and obeyed, shimmying his body so his back leaned against the headboard. Uma spun one of the cuffs around her finger in pure excitement. “Harry, help me out?”

“Gladly, Captain.” Harry purred as the two moved over to cuff Gil to the black headboard behind their bed. Gil’s heartbeat began to quicken in both fear and excitement as he felt his hands restrict to the tight, red, leather cuffs that Uma had brought up. His length was still standing hard and thick, almost painfully stiff from Harry’s earlier teasing. A tiny whimper rises from him as Harry snakes down to his chest and starts to leave even more tiny little love bites on his chest. Uma straddled behind Harry and grabbed a lock of his hair, using her grip to move him up and away from Gil’s chest.

“Easy, Harry, you’re making the poor guy miserable. Surely he should get some kind of award for following my orders earlier, shouldn’t he?” Uma smiled as she grabbed the bottle of lube and began to open the cap. However, instead of squeezing the lube onto Harry’s hand, she quickly grabbed two of Harry’s fingers and swirled her tongue around them long and slow. “Just in case the lube’s not enough.” She said after releasing his fingers with an audible pop. Harry could try to assume that was the only reason Uma sucked his fingers so sloppily, but he knew what she was doing. He chuckled lightly and looked down at Gil. The poor little rabbit still laid a heavily breathing, silently begging mess. Harry took the lube from Uma’s hand and squeezed a little bit of it onto his two fingers before lathering them in the warm liquid.

“Don’t worry, little rabbit. I’ll warm you up.” Harry smirked as he teased his finger around the rim of Gil’s hole before slowly inserting it inside of him. A small hiss of pain could be heard as Gil slowly adjusted to the penetration, but it wasn’t long before he laid there, eager for Harry to move his long, index finger.

“H-Harry, please...s-stop teasing.”

“We really need to find a way to shut you up, don’t we, little Rabbit? Don’t worry, I’ve got just the thing. Are you able to lay on your back?” Uma asked softly, a temporary pause from her dominating demeanor to ensure the safety of her boyfriend. When he nodded his head and began to slowly lay on his back, Uma straddled over his chest and began to capture his tongue in a heated, passionate kiss. In the kiss, Uma began to grind her naked sex on top of Gil’s chest, painting it with her wet juices. “Go ahead and stop teasing him, Harry. I’ve got just the thing to keep him quiet.” Uma ordered her first mate. As Harry obeyed and began to curl his finger inside Gil’s hole, a soft sigh of relief could be heard from the blonde pirate. Uma began to move her naked body closer and closer to Gil’s mouth. “You know what to do, little rabbit. Show me what that tongue can do.” She whispered before lowering herself onto Gil’s face. He eagerly went to work licking her folds, lapping at her warm juices like a thirsty dog desperate for water.

As he ate Uma out, Harry slowly curved his finger as he moved in and out of Gil’s hole. Tired of being tame, Harry cautiously added a second finger and began to quicken his pace. Moans could be heard from both Uma and Gil as the devilish imp hit Gil’s most sensitive spot and the little rabbit grew even more reckless with his tongue. “Fuck, sunshine...need to be in you so badly. Captain, can I fuck him? Please?” Harry panted as his member remained nearly untouched. His mind went wild watching both his boyfriend and girlfriend unravel before him, but the fact that he wasn’t getting a lot of attention slowly began to eat away at him.

Uma was nearing her climax, but decided that she needed something different, something more from her boys. She got off of Gil’s face and went back to straddling his chest. She lowered herself to meet his lips as she whispered seductively to him. “What do you think, Gil? You want Harry to fuck you senseless while I ride that thick cock of yours? All you gotta do is ask.” The two boys gulped in excitement as Harry shot Gil a look saying ‘You better beg, you little shit.’ Gil looked up at Uma and eagerly nodded his head.

“Please, please Captain. I need to feel you, I need to feel both of you. I promise, I’ll do anything.” After being silenced for so long, Gil felt amazing finally letting go of control and submitting to the two beautiful people in front of him. He’d beg as long as they wanted if it meant making them feel good. Uma quickly leaned down to peck his cheek.

“Good boy.” She smiled as she leaned over to the dresser and grabbed two condoms. As she handed one to Harry, she shot him a wink. “Try not to rough him up too much, alright? Unless he wants that.”

Gil rolled his eyes as he watched the two unwrap and put on the condoms. “I don’t care how rough, just fuck me already!”

Harry and Uma chuckled and positioned themselves. Uma straddled Gil’s length as Harry rubbed some of the warm lube onto his own. “Well, somebody’s eager.” Harry laughed as he teased the tip of his cock around Gil’s stretched hole. Uma, however, was tired of teasing. As soon as Gil’s cock was within reach, she quickly lowered herself down. There was a small wince at the sudden entry, but as soon as Uma started moving slowly..up and down..neither of them cared. Harry, incredibly aroused and nearly feral from the pleasurable sounds Uma and Gil began to make, finally entered Gil’s hole starting with his tip and taking it inch by inch. His rough, strong hands began to grip onto Gil’s thighs as he began to move in and out. Gil, slightly overstimulated from all the attention these two were giving him, could already feel his head floating in the clouds. It was like the three of them were the only people in the world. He didn’t care how loud or ridiculous sounding his moans and tiny begs were, or how loudly their headboard had started to bang on the wall. All he cared about was the warm wetness Uma blessed him with and the rough, senseless fucking Harry began to gave him as he quickly picked up his pace.

Uma definitely had a good time herself as well. It always brought her joy knowing the pleasure of two of the Isle’s hottest boys was in the palm of her hands. She was the only one who knew the right way to tug Harry’s black locks. She was the only one who knew Gil’s secret ‘love’ for spanking and rope bondage. Technically, Harry knew these things too, but she was the only one who’d get to use them as tiny games of sexual torture. She loved it. They loved it. And they’re the only ones who play it with each other.

Harry could feel himself start to come undone. The warm feeling in the pit of his groin was bubbling and boiling like a pot of hot water and he wanted nothing more than to let it burst inside of his blonde baby boy. “C-Captain...can I come? Please, please let me come inside of him.” Harry would never be this submissive around anybody else. But there was something about the way Uma carried herself, both in and outside the bedroom, that made him weak in the knees. Weak enough that if anybody else were to see the two in moments like these, they’d think Harry was under some kind of love spell cast by Uma. But there was no spell involved here, just a girl so beautiful, so confident, so strong in her fight for dominance that just submitting to her brought Harry the utmost pleasure. For Gil, on the other hand, he was an amplified, sexualized version of his usual, chaotic self. Eager to both tease and please. After all, the more you tease, the more they want it, and Harry loved to elongate everything with Gil as far as he could until Gil was a begging mess.

Speaking of begging, Gil’s pants began to grow quick and unrhythmic as his climax came close. “I’m getting close, too. Uma...p-please..” He whined as he listened to the beautiful music of Uma’s moans.

“Yes, yes baby. You can come. Come long and hard like I know you can.” Neither of the boys knew which one she was talking to, but they obeyed the order regardless. Gil let out a huge moan as he came inside of Uma, knowing he’d have quite the messy condom to throw away later. As he came, Harry could feel Gil’s hole tightening around him. The warm, tight hole around Harry’s throbbing cock was enough for the devilish pirate to reach his peak, whispering both Gil and Uma’s name as he did.

By the time Uma had undone Gil’s cuffs and Harry had thrown away both of the condoms, the three laid sprawled out across the bed, both of the boys near drenched in sweat. “Thank wicked for snow days, yeah?” Harry huffed out as he tangled his fingers in Gil’s ruffled and messy locks.

“Definitely.” Uma smiled, staring up at the ceiling then lowering her eyes to the roaring fireplace. “You boys want me to turn off the fireplace?”

“No, I think we’re good here.” Gil hummed between breaths, taking in the scent and afterglow of his two favorite people. Then, he noticed something. “Uma, did you finish?”

“No, that doesn’t matter though. Making you boys feel good is fine enough for me.” Gil leaned up and looked over to Harry, cocking an eyebrow and letting a playful smirk spread across his face.

“Well we can’t have that, can we, Harry?” Harry shrugged his shoulders as he began to leave little nibbles on Uma’s neck while Gil lowered himself to Uma’s thighs and began to tease her folds with his fingers. Uma sighed and closed her eyes, realizing a newfound love for snow days.

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moonvalecrossing · 3 years

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Ya know, if there was ever an equivalent to the Bug-Off and Fishing Tourneys that specifically focuses on deep-sea creatures, I wonder what species the host would be. A sea turtle seems pretty obvious, or they could even make them some kind of diving bird. Or they could just go the super easy route by making Pascal the tourney host and calling it a day. :P

I think a diving bird would be interesting. Any bird that eats sea fish though, really. A relative of Pete, Pelly, or Phyllis perhaps.

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rhnuzlocke · 4 years

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Chapter Ten: Street Fighting

Slateport was a bustling port city that had slowly taken over the entire cape and began to creep inland. It wasn’t as built up or modern as Kogane, in whose shadow Ren had spent her childhood. Instead it reminded Ren of the more distant Asagi, complete with a towering lighthouse shining above it all.

Ren bought them fresh Carvanha fritters and kumara chips in the crowed market by the fishing docks, then picked up a bag of ginger-coconut biscuits at a bakery as they wove their way south. She’d been missing fish and there was nothing like getting the morning’s catch before noon—even if it wasn’t quite the same as the Koiking korokke and roast yakiimo she used to pick up on her way into town.

Slateport’s beaches were enormous—the largest Ren had ever seen. They wrapped two-thirds of the way around the city and stretched at least a hundred meters beyond the dunes and smooth slate walkway. There were sandbars out further still that people and pokemon had swam to. Ren took off her boots and let her feet sink into the dry, shifting sand. She winced at the scorching heat until it was up to her ankles, but Tāraki flopped down and let out something akin to a purr as he splayed out.

“According to the visitor’s guide, all the battling in the city takes place out here,” Ren told her team.

Māia gave a few experimental flaps on her shoulder. “Excellent! The wind is perfect!”

Panahi clacked her beak in agreement.

“Akahana, you should still be taking it easy, so just let me know if you’d rather rest in your ball.” She nodded. “Iki.”

The Surskit startled out of Ren’s shadow. “Y-yes?”

“I want you to take the lead, if you feel up to it.”

“What?”

Ren rubbed at her shoulder. “Sometimes it seems like you still don’t think you’re a battler. But that’s my fault for neglecting your training. If you give me another chance, I bet I can prove to you that you can be.” Iki fidgeted. “What’d ya say, little bug? Want to give this a go?”

Iki glanced at Akahana before squaring up to Ren. “Y-yeah, let’s do it!”

Was it hope, or did you see potential in her?

“I knew she could be great. Even though it scared her, she always had such unshakable dedication. It ran deeper than even I knew. She threw her all into every fight. The fear never made her freeze, it only made instincts keener. There was no way she wouldn’t become a top battler.”

I see.

“Is that why I chose her in the first place? I thought…”

Do not doubt yourself. The way you have sought to heal and empower all of those bonded to you—to use your strength to protect even strangers—is why I chose you. It is at your very core, Ren.

“You’re right. I’ve always wanted to do good with my abilities, even when I still wanted to do great things.”

It is my belief that you will do both.

Trainers were scattered all around and battles took place wherever they could find enough open space between the other beachgoers. Much to Tāraki and Māia’s delight, there were more than enough opponents around the right badge level for Ren’s entire team to get some practice between Iki’s bouts.

The matches by the seaside were particularly exciting and informative. Water moves could manifest so differently with a source so readily available, and fully aquatic pokemon could maneuver in in wholly new ways. And Iki could skate across the waves with a speed and grace that blew her movements across dry land out of the water.

But high on the beach, where the sand was loose and drifting, her spindle legs sunk beneath the surface and her speed fell behind the Slugma she was facing. It glided across a layer of glass melted by the heat of its magma, and Iki only managed to escape by turning more sharply than it was able. She zigzagged away from a Rock Throw only to be driven further into the sand by an Ember. Ren could see her trembling.

“Dig deep, Iki! You can do this!”

The shaking stopped as the Slugma surged forward, but instead of ducking down for a Fell Stinger, Iki stood tall and released a rushing stream of bubbles from her open mouth. They burst and hissed upon impact, splattering the Slugma’s viscous skin asunder until is disappeared in a cloud of steam.

The sea breeze cleared it a moment later, revealing a sunken puddle of black rock with magma glowing through the cracks

“Oh,” Iki murmured in shock.

“That was Bubble Beam!” Ren cheered. “You have a water move now! This is gonna change the game for you!”

“Really?”

“Absolutely, little bug!” Ren grinned wide and Iki smiled tentatively back.

The other trainer stood back up from inspecting her Slugma, and withdrew it. “I’m gonna take Mote to the Pokemon Center.”

“Thanks for the battle!”

“Oh, uh, you too.” The trainer almost turned to go, but hesitated. “You said this was your first time in Slateport, right?”

“Yeah!”

“Then you might not have heard, but they hold tourneys at the Seashore House every Friday. It’s a bar just down there on the west end.” Ren followed where she was pointing and spotted a blue roof a ways off on the beach. “It’s worth a go if you’re still in town tomorrow. I always go.”

Ren threw her an appreciative smile as thanks. “Sounds great! We’ll be sure to check it out.”

“Maybe I’ll see you there then bye!” She said in a rush before jogging off.

Ren turned immediately back to the task at hand. “This is perfect! We just need to do a little target practice and we’ll be ready for thing!”

Iki looked over at the sunken hole where the Slugma had been. “If you say so.”

...

The pink and orange of sunset painted the horizon and set the sand alight as Ren and her pokemon set out the next evening. The Seashore House was packed when they entered—filled to the brim with trainers and their pokemon. A smiling middle-aged man and a Tentacool bustled behind the long bar serving up drinks while one harried waitress took orders from the seated patrons. Buoys and lifesavers splashed bright color across the slatted wood walls, and the smell of fried seafood wafted powerfully from the direction of the kitchen. The room was buzzing with conversation and pulsing with excitement. Ren felt her heart beat a little quicker and a grin overtake her face.

She drifted outside with the rest of the mingling trainers to find the large stone patio being cleared. She grabbed the end of one of the remaining picnic tables with some of the others and set it down in the sand in line with the rest now encircling the patio.

“Hey, y’all! Listen up now!” A voice boomed from an amp near the side door. The buzz quieted and everyone’s attention turned to a girl who couldn’t have been over twelve, mic in one hand and the other thrown in the air, standing on a crate to see over the sea of heads.

“This is your Master of Ceremonies, your Officiator of Fun and your ultimate Judge of Battle Badassery, KAT KORRAAAAA!”

The regulars roared their approval while some of the new initiates clapped unevenly in confusion. Ren whooped. After an appropriate amount of adoration, the girl lowered her hand and all fell quiet.

“Let me lay out the rules for the new blood and all them that’s just passing through. All matches are one v one, standard League rules. The first tournament is for greenhorns through two badges. Next is for three and four badges, so on and etc. You get the idea. Winner of each tourney gets as many free drinks as they can knock back! Remember, you can only lose once, but you can win again and again so step right up hopefuls, gather round spectators and prepare yourselves for the BEATDOWN!”

Ren waded through the crowd and wrote her name in the bracket beside the building. Spectators filled the picnic tables while pokemon took the edge of the patio for a better view. Ren and her competitors surveyed each other appraisingly.

“I’m seeing a lot of plant, dark, and fire-types.” Ren whispered down to her team. “This is yours to win, Iki!”

Iki was trembling, but she nodded resolutely.

Pride mixed with excitement rushed through Ren’s veins and had her tingling down to her toes by the time her first match was called. Her opponent sent in a Houndour against Iki, and Ren glimpsed Akahana don a matching grin.

Ren had Iki douse the ring with Water Sport to dampen its fire and use the puddle to hydroplane around its jaws. A Quick Attack to each flank had it staggering and third to its shoulder brought it down before it had managed to land a single hit. The swiftness and decisiveness of the victory caused a moment of quiet before Kat shattered it with her judgement and sent Iki skittering back between Ren’s legs.

They faced a Seedot in the next round, which proved tougher. But Ren correctly guessed that its joints were the most vulnerable, and Iki had the precision to follow through with Fell Stinger. The third round was a Numel whose combination of Magnitude and Flame burst had Iki quaking, but once again she didn’t freeze and it succumbed. The fourth was a Cacnea, whose troublesome Sand Attack they beat back with Bubblebeam. It was difficult to land any effective hits without getting in range of its Needle Arm, but they managed to distract and encumber it enough to get a decisive hit on its vulnerable crown.

The crowd grew more and more raucous as each successive tier of the bracket filled until the final battle was announced. A trainer with a mohawk and piercings stepped into the ring with his Boldore opposite Ren and Iki.

Finally a real challenge! Ren felt her body lower and her hands come up like she was preparing for a judo bought, and Iki mimicked the stance in front of her. The other trainer sneered and his Boldore postured to play to the crowd. It was about four times Iki’s size and must have been near ten times her weight. They would have to be quick and careful to beat it, but that was where they excelled.

You seem to think of your confidence as a weakness of late, but to my mind, it is perhaps your greatest strength.

“Thinking I could handle things I couldn’t has gotten pokemon killed! You know that! You’ve seen it!”

I disagree. Look again, Ren. Look harder.

Ren and Iki waited for the opening move they knew was coming, and the Surskit sprang to the side to dodge the rock launched at her. It shattered by Ren’s feet, but she felt rather saw it as her eyes followed Iki’s zig-zagging path around the edge of the ring. Three more rocks narrowly missed before the attack was spent, but by then Iki had lined up a clear shot and hit it square in the leg with Bubble Beam.

The Boldore stumbled in surprise, but then leapt back at her with a Smackdown. Instead of running, Ren had Iki parry with Fell Stinger, which unbalanced and sent it stumbling back.

The crowd roared almost as loud as Ren’s heart in her ears, the pitch of it climbing at her audacity. But Iki paid the price when her own unsteady legs failed to carry her out of range of a Headbutt. The crowd gasped as the force of it pinned her to the ground. There was no getting away this time, and the Boldore raised a leg to stomp her.

But Ren didn’t reach for her ball or call their surrender. Instead her command rang out in the relative quiet as the audience anticipated the end. Iki raised her head and blasted the Boldore point blank in the face with Bubble Beam. It staggered as the first bubbles exploded against it, wobbled as Iki pressed the attack, and collapsed as Ren and Iki’s strength outlasted it.

The crowd went absolutely wild. People and pokemon were jumping and screaming and cheering. Iki didn’t jump this time. Instead, light suffused her and a breeze rushed out from her, quieting the crowd.

Iki emerged from the shell of light looking unlike any of the many Masquerain varieties in Ren’s Pokedex. Her head was crowned with a pointed, golden helm with a plume of red rising from the back. Her false eyes were a stark and hypnotizing contrast of black and white, and her mask was a deep shade of pink. She was amazing.

“What a tournament! What an upset!” Kat yelled over the mic. “Folks, it looks like we have our winner! Give it up for Ren Kosugi and her MVP, Iki the Surskit!” The crowd cheered wildly again and the girl waited for a lull to continue. “Or should I say Masquerain? Let’s congratulate her on that awesome evolution!” The cheering picked up again, but this time with more applause and a few lycan-whistles. “I think we can all agree we’ve never seen a bug quite like that folks! What a sweep! Be sure to collect your reward, Ren!”

Iki’s head was tilted down, trying to catch her reflection in the sheen of water over slate.

“Iki!” Ren called.

Iki turned and looked up, but her eyes found Akahana instead. The Poochyena’s black lips curved upward in a rare smile. Iki’s wings began to beat furiously, propelling her up several feet before she got them under control. Ren ran to her rescue, scooping Iki up and hugging her in her arms.

“You look awesome, little bug! I’m so proud!”

Ren felt Iki press her face into her shoulder. “Thank you.”

In another moment, Ren loosened her grip enough to look down at her pokemon “So do you believe me yet?”

Iki took a moment to answer, but there was hope and happiness in her eyes.

“Yeah.”

...

Later that night in their room in the Pokemon Center, Ren was drifting off on a bunk with Akahana already snoozing beside her, when a low whistle pulled her back to consciousness. It repeated, sharper this time.

“Iki!” It was Māia.

Ren cracked an eye open and saw Iki’s red plume jolt in the shade-filtered moonlight.

“Y-yes?”

“The others and I wanted to congratulate you on your evolution,” said Panahi gently.

“Really?”

There were murmurs of ascent all around.

“Of course, dear. You worked very hard, and you did so well. We were all impressed.”

Iki fidgeted in her cushion. “Oh, wow, thank you. I-I mean that’s very kind. I didn’t think I was doing that great…”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” hissed Māia. “That tournament was awesome!”

“Especially that last battle!” Tāraki gushed. “The way you received that Smackdown with your head spike!” He was on his feet, imitating the motion with the frond sprouting from his head.

“That took guts!” Said Māia. “And I would know.”

Iki was quiet for a moment, then ventured: “because your ability is called Guts?”

“Yeah!”

“Oh.” Then Iki let out a little tinkling sound that might have been a giggle.

Ren pressed her hands over her mouth to stop herself from squealing and giving herself away.

“You see?”

Yes. I see a trainer who cares very deeply about her pokemon and their happiness.

“I—You!—Don’t laugh at me after being so kind!”

Only if you cease mocking your virtues.

“Personally I liked the way you used Water Sport to speed yourself up and Bubble Beam to slow the others down,” said Hakeka. “I didn’t know you were so clever.”

“Ren helped me with—”

The Shroomish interrupted before Ren could: “still, props on the execution.” Iki did not deflect again and Hakeka continued. “Now that you’re talking to us, I’ve got a question for you—if I may?”

“Um, sure. What is it?”

“Why do you hang out with the grumpy Poochyena so much?”

Ren saw Iki rise up off her cushion, false eyes flaring. “Aka is not grumpy! She’s really nice!”

“Yeah, lay off her, Hakeka!” Māia chirped. “Akahana defeated me in battle. She’s super cool!”

“Whoa! Alright, okay. Clearly I’ve been missing out on something.”

Tāraki started giggling, and soon the rest of them joined in until Panahi gently shushed them and made them go to sleep.

...

Ren wove between the colorful stalls of Slateport’s central market, laden down with bags and Panahi perched on her shoulder. The crowds dissipated as she made her way north to a small park in the shadow of a large, gaudily decorated building. She collapsed onto a bench by a fountain that shot elegant arcs of water from the snouts of patinated copper Horsea, Seadra, and a single Kingdra atop the rest. Panahi hopped down to float in the pool and Ren leaned back to let the mist cool her face.

“I hate shopping.”

“Well I love it!” Panahi declared, paddling around placidly behind her.

“Happy you’re a trainer’s pokemon now?”

“I can no longer deny it has its benefits.”

“That necklace was one pricey battle item, so I’m glad you’re happy with it.”

Panahi huffed. “You think I got this for me? Please, Honey, this is a service to humanity! Just look at me. I’m radiant!”

Ren craned her neck at an awkward angle to watch the Wingull puff out her chest with pride. The cerulean jewels twinkled in their web of delicate silver chains like the warm shallows off the beach. Ren hoped the rest of her team was half as pleased with their gifts as Panahi seemed to be.

Ren sat up as people began to pour out of the building opposite, their excited murmuring overtaking the peaceful splashing of the fountain behind her. Some of them dispersed, but many hung around—in anticipation of what, Ren couldn’t be sure.

“Goodness, that’s a sizable flock,” Panahi commented.

Ren shaded her eyes and squinted to read the golden lettering above the doors. “Oh, it’s a contest hall. One must have ended.”

“Are contests where pokemon put on performances instead of battling?”

“I think so? I’m not so sure exactly what happens. We don’t have them in Johto.”

The crowd suddenly parted to make way for a news crew as a woman in a frilly costume and her equally adorned Altaria emerged. She smiled wide as she answered questions and the pair posed for pictures.

“Must be some life,” Panahi sighed.

Ren turned back to her, and all bubbly satisfaction from earlier was gone. Panahi absently preened one of her primaries that was nicked by a move the day before.

Ren sucked on her tongue as she fought with herself about what to say. “Ahi, you know you don’t have to be a battler, right?”

“Don’t worry about me, Honey,” Panahi said, brushing the thought aside with a wing. “I don’t mind pulling my weight, even if I’m not as enthused as the chicks.” She yawned. “I could use a nap though.” Ren pulled Panahi’s pokeball off her belt. “Send one of the others out to keep an eye on the shopping,” Panahi instructed sternly before tapping the button and flowing inside.

Ren turned the ball over in her hands. She’d have to think of something. But maybe now wasn’t the time.

Does this Ren seem selfish to you? Impulsive?

“I suppose not. No… I guess I have been a little hard on myself lately.”

Ren stowed Panahi’s ball and tapped Iki’s. The Masquerain emerged in a flash of red light.

“Do you mind being out for a bit? It’s fine if you’re still tired from last night.”

“No, I don’t mind.”

She drifted on whirring wings and landed with the tips on the surface of the pool, hydrophobic coating keeping her afloat while Ren set up her vapor box. She lowered her purchases into it, watching them melt into the wood one by one. Behind her, Iki was staring down at her reflection. She raised her false eyes for a moment and then slowly let them droop. Ren opened the last package instead of stowing it and held it out for Iki to see.

“These are for you.”

Iki snapped out of her contemplation and peered at the pair of polished blue stones instead. “So pretty.”

“They’re mystic water gems. You can wear them in battle to boost the power of Bubble Beam.”

“Oh, that’s so kind of you. Thank you, Ren.”

“I thought we could mount them on your helmet instead of a necklace. What do you think?” Iki tilted her head, watching the sunlight play through them. “I’d like that.”

“Great! The vendor said we could go back and she’d help me attach them.”

Someone passed by them, and Ren’s eyes caught on a dark, tattooed forearm. She glanced up and, even in profile, the broken nose and scared lip were unmistakable. Ren jumped to her feet.

“Josh!” The tall, gangly teen startled and stopped in his tracks, shoulders hunching. “What are you doing here?”

He turned around slowly. “Hey, R-ren.”

Ren’s cheeks puffed out as she bit back whatever she was planning to say. Her eyebrows furrowed in concern. “How do you know my name?”

“They, uh, s-s-said. On the news.”

“Right. Shit.”

“I d-d-d-d—” He stopped, took a breath. “Your f-father is a gym leader?”

“Yeah, um—”

“Wow, your M-m-masquerain is—wow.”

“I know! Isn’t she beautiful?” He nodded and Iki glanced between them, pink mask flushing redder. Then Ren remembered who she was talking to and the warm feeling vanished as quickly as it had come over her. “Wait! Stop that right now! We are not friends, Josh. Remember? I didn’t call you over for small talk!”

Josh flinched and looked down at his feet. “R-right, yes, yeah, of course… Sorry.”

“Good. Now, what are you doing here?”

“N-n-nothing! N-not st-st-stealing! J-j-j-j-j—I’m running some errands!”

“You can’t even lie properly? Why did they hire you?”

Josh swallowed hard, eyes scrunching closed for a second as his adam’s apple bobbed. “Who? What—”

“Cut the crap! You aren’t just some thief trying to make a quick buck.”

“No!” His brows lowered into a scowl, then his eyes widened as he realized his mistake.

“You work for Magma. You’re here for them. What are they doing here, Josh?”

“I’m not—They—N-n-nothing illegal! A n-normal errand! I have to go!” Josh took off running and Ren ran after him.

“Ah, so this is why we’re here?”

You would rather move on?

“I know our first two meetings were important but— I’d rather not dwell on this one. Makes me feel stupid. I should have seen that stunt he pulled on Mt. Pyre coming.”

I had thought his actions there might have gone some way towards mending things. But perhaps you did not see?

“See what?”

He followed you to the peak. He risked his life to make sure you were unharmed and in safe hands.

“Oh… I suppose that makes us even again. But, uh, what did you want ask about this moment?”

Why did you confront him?

“Ah, that’s fair. Of course I wanted my involvement with Magma to be over after what happened in Granite Cave. But it also made it hard for me to [i]not[/i] be involved. I couldn’t just let him go and learn later on that I could have helped but did nothing… Oh, I think I see your point.”

Before Josh had run thirty feet, he stopped abruptly and Ren nearly crashed into him. He pulled something out of hip bag as she recovered her balance and pressed it into her hands.

“This is for you.”

Ren was so startled that took it without thinking. It was something light and flat in a brown paper bag. She reached in and pulled out a TM.

“What—?” She meant to ask him, but he was already gone. “Ugh! What the hell was that? He just—and I—I can’t believe he tricked me into taking this! He probably stole it!” She flipped the TM over and growled in pure frustration. “Smackdown? What kind of joke is this? Why that beanpole son-of-a—”

“Maybe it’s not a joke,” said Iki by her ear.

“What?”

“Maybe it’s a gift. You did save his life.”

“That doesn’t mean he wasn’t just trying to…” Ren trailed off and took a breath. “You know, you’re probably right.” Ren cast around one last time before returning to her abandoned vapor box on the bench. She stowed it and Iki’s gems in her shoulder bag. “Let’s go get you fixed up!”

#ORAS #nuzlocke #storylocke #lgbtq #Ren #Latios #Iki #Panahi #Akahana #Josh #chapter

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just-some-guy-joust · 1 year

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#tournament poll #tumblr competition #tumblr showdown #fish pictures #deep sea fish #googly eyed stubby squid #siphonophore #deep sea fish tourney

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coxinyoface · 5 years

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also since no one has said anything:

this fishing tourney has giant isopods and i can’t stop thinking of giant isopod memes every time they pop up

… i want one as a villager tbh i mean cmon this would be amazing look they’d be great friends with moe

anyway, part of me is ‘haha it’s that “prehistoric trilobites struggle with modern packaging” meme from when i was 12!’ the rest of me is. mmm. intrigued? i've seen footage of deep sea isopods alien facehugging sharks to death so they and their scavenging bretheren can feast on shark carcasses and it's fascinating? this is the least likely critter to be fished normally (they tend to be found attacking commercial fishing nets), is a pretty big fuckoff crustacean thing (roughly football-sized, but as big as 30"), and also is the most land-adaptive fishing tourney creature yet that appears capable of killing you and eating your face in whatever order it prefers. not that they would necessarily be motivated to, given they're usually pretty harmless? but they have so much potential!

also i found out about real isopod hours today and i deeply relate :')

#acpc #acpc fishing tourney #animal crossing pocket camp #animal crossing #pocket camp #q in yo face

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splatoonpolls · 6 months

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SPLATOON OC TOURNEY

ROUND 1 BATTLE 5

OC PROPAGANDA!

Cirrin by @daargons

he fell over in a tournament one time trying to throw a torpedo. they’re doing their best

on a splatoon team called the skittles squad (would cephalopods have skittles. What would they call them)

HUGE OTH FAN… he got a little sticker signed by the duo and put it on his Z+F charger

rolls off the map whenever he plays dualies

his tentacles are teal on the ends (and eyes bright cyan) from one of their parents who had an encounter with sanitization in the deep sea metro

honestly? they are just some Guy. Like they’re not an agent or anything but I love him!!!!

The Inkoid Typhoon that Ravages the Shoreline (Typhoon for short) by @softichill/@nylonvintage

Backstory stuff:

She became inkfish-shaped due to her egg being stolen by an inkling and nearly sold off, but she hatched before that could happen and ended up wandering around Splatsville in her earliest years

Later she was able to rejoin a school of salmonid during a Big Run, but the early influences of Splatsville caused her to grow up shaped Like That (aka it's what made her a salmonling)

Despite her build, she's gotten herself a pretty solid place in her school! Her battle prowess especially is what earned her a name

Trivia:

Her necklace is made of fishing line and the charms were debris collected from the ocean

She wears stolen grizzco uniforms because they're the only clothes she has access to that actually fit her. The stolen grizzco weapons are just for funsies tho

She sometimes joins runs, but only ever comes out during low tide (since that gives her room to run around)

She Does Not like inklings or octolings. At all. Both because she got stolen by one and because the constant fights are getting annoying

She plays pots and pans as drums

#splatoon oc tourney #splatoon #splatoon 2 #splatoon 3 #splatoon oc #splatoon polls #polls #round 1 #character tournament #tournament poll #bracket tournament #fandom tournament #tumblr tournament #poll tournament #tumblr poll

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7deadlycinderellas · 5 years

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At the End they formed, a true lover’s knot

AO3 Link

(Why yes, this was entirely inspired by an image I had in my head of Bran as the Ice King)

The three-eyed Raven had said that Brandon Stark was gone.

Gone, that seemed a good enough way to put it at the time.

It was easier than pushing through from the labyrinth inside his mind.

The last thing he remembered seeing before he touched the weirwood tree had been Meera. The next thing he sees is her again, staring at him with contempt.

What did I do? What did I say? Bran thinks, deep within his own mind. He knew that if he searched, swam within the sea of memories, his own, and the memories of the Raven and the visions, that he could find it.

He doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to know what he had said to make her look at him like that.

One moment he was a child again, climbing the walls of Winterfell. The next he was in the head of the Raven, soaring above the forest, and before he could try and figure it out, he was in the stands at the tourney at Harrenhall, and before the strike of the gong, he had returned to the age of heroes.

When his mind touches the Long Night, he doesn’t know what to do. With the Raven’s eyes, he doesn’t know if what he saw was real. If the memories overwhelmed him, seeing the night leaves him catatonic.

Sometimes when he’s lucky, he’ll be back north of the wall. Back before, before the Raven taught him the secrets buried in the ice and snow. Summer would still be be his side, sleeping cuddled roughly by Hodor, as though she were a toy. He’ll be when Meera pressed her face into his chest in a vain attempt to shield herself from the cold. He feels his own heart thrum uncontrollably, and he relishes the feeling, desperate for it to last, before he’s pulled away.

“Your Grace?” he hears. He opens his eyes, and Tyrion Lannister is offering him a handkerchief.

“Sorry Your Grace,” the man who he himself had once called the Imp says again. “You were crying.”

The visions take the most out of him. He only dimly is even aware of the passage of time, much less the difference between past and present, without adding future into the mix. Much like the Long Night, the visions of the future are so incredibly chaotic that Bran is uncertain as if anything in them could be real. And so, when they come, Brandon Stark retreats even further into the labyrinth.

The only time Bran Stark got any power over his own mind was in his dreams. Though they had once led him on his way to the Children, now Bran’s dreams were again his own.

In his dreams, he could walk again. He could dance and ride, and fly. Fly in a way that the Raven could never let him.

In his dreams, he can be beside his siblings again. Arya dreams of the sea, and the canals. Bran rows for her, wondering why they’ve turned back to Westeros already. He’s with Jon, again beyond the wall, in a beyond-the-wall that was new and open for life. When Sansa rides beside him in the cold of the North, he wonders if all these dreams are simply his.

Sometimes in his dreams, he reaches out and touches them. He wonders if they could feel it.

But then again, he has no control over his dreams. He was simply brought along for the ride, as welcome as the ride was. Or at least he thought.

One night, asleep in his chambers the new, much smaller and more modest than before, Red Keep, Bran dreams that he’s drowning.

The water isn’t like the pools in the Godswood back in Winterfell. It’s brackish and wild, and dragging him under. He fights and flails, but it brings him no closer to the surface.

Then he feels something underneath him shoving him roughly. The surface rushes to him, bright light through the green-gray water. His hands reach for it grasping for anything. Grasping seemingly forever, until his hand found the rope. He grabs on and pulls, pulls with all his strength, and finally, with enough strength to pull himself above the water.

With a splash from the water, Meera is beside him, pulling the rope from his hands and then pulling him the rest of the way from the water.

“You forgot your tether.”

With an unusual amount of control, Bran reaches out and touches her, as he had times before with his siblings. He brushes one of her dark curls, still wet from the water, behind her ear. His fingers linger as long as they can.

“But you brought it to me,” is what he says.

He fights waking, fights it harder than near anything he’s fought in recent memory.

When he does wake, the feeling of her skin lingers under his fingers.

When awake, he goes to the time on the road North to the wall. Jojen tells him of the time Meera pulled him out of the water when he tumbled off one of the crannogs before he could swim well. The grey water had gotten into his lungs then, and she had chided him for playing so close to the edge without being tied to the shore.

The next night, he wonders if he could try and seek her out again in his dreams. But the next night, he is with Arya.

She is on a ship, a small one, not like the one she left on. She steers it all herself, from the crow’s nest. She’s steering it towards the shore, towards a gathering storm.

“I told him I’d come back,” she says, with trepidation, “Eight moons ago I did. “

Dimly, Bran realizes he is not himself, but a porpoise. His smooth skin slipping easily through the water.

When he says, “Then you should,” he still has Brandon Stark’s voice.

“What if I can’t stop myself from leaving again?”

“Don’t make promises, and remember to bring gifts.”

He takes a deep dive under the sea, and when he rises, expels the water forcefully from his blowhole before waking.

The next night, he is climbing a staircase. Sansa is in front of him. The stairs rise and spiral, the way some of the stairs in Winterfell did. The steps are wood though, not stone, and he’s pretty sure all the staircases in Winterfell stopped at some point, instead of merely going higher and higher.

At some point, Sansa has become Lady. The pale gray pup, still as small as she had been when Bran saw her last. Not that she’d had any time to grow into her full size.

Bran gives her a scratch on the ear, and she says,

“You’re lonely and you shouldn’t be. Isn’t that what you told me?”

And then he wakes.

“You’re lonely and you shouldn’t be.”

It’s the next day,

“That sounds like what you wrote your sister last week. Shame she feels loneliness is part of her duty,” Tyrion comments from across the table.

Bran fixes on the words, he tries to so hard, but then he’s gone again.

The breadth of the Raven’s knowledge is so great that some days Bran barely even touches the years he was born in. He could spend a lifetime following the lives of the people in a Westeros that bears no resemblance at all to the one he knows.

He doesn’t want to. It may be a fight, but Bran wants his own life back.

In the night, there are storms. There are more boats, but they are not Arya’s. Some of them appear to be toys, carved from rock or driftwood, awash on the waves.

All of the Starks are here, though they are children again. Arya and Sansa are swimming amidst the waves, as if half fish themselves. Jon is beside him on the stone barge, munching on a loaf of bread.

“I’m going to go over,” Bran says, peeking overboard.

“That’s okay,” Jon insists casually.

He again peers over into the sea, afraid.

He feels a hand slip a rope around his waist and tie a knot to hold it. He doesn’t even have to look.

“If you’re going to sit so close to the edge, you’re going to need a tether,” Meera tells him, in the same tone she must have used years ago on Jojen.

A tether. He wraps his hands in the rope. And then he reaches out to Meera, desperate to touch her again.

But just like the nights when he wakes thinking their still north of the wall, he reaches and keeps reaching.

A tether.

His mind reaches, pulls on that rope as hard as he can, hoping the memory of her will help him pull himself out.

It almost works.

At breakfast, he asks Tyrion,

“What do you know about asking for forgiveness?”

“From a person? Or do you feel you have somehow displeased the Gods?”

“A person. A woman.”

He tries so hard to hold onto Tyrion’s explanation, and his suggestions, and tries not to think too much about his pitying gaze, before being pulled away and sinking again.

The words come out of his haphazardly, a few at a time, the ink smearing, his handwriting occasionally unrecognizable. He apologizes, with every bit of his being. He puts in words, for the first time, the way she used to make him feel, the way she still does. Every few minutes, his mind will try to retreat again, and he will grab his wrist and squeeze, pinching the skin violently in an attempt to stop it.

He can’t send it right away. He has to look.

The last memory, the one Bran lets himself go to before he retires. He has to make himself see.

Meera’s words hurt, especially now that he understands. She’d lost her brother, and all she wanted was to be with what remained of her family before the end came. He stares at the look in her eyes, when the words his own mouth produces are so cold.

He’s angry, so angry that he’d allowed himself to become that. To have let go so completely of the one person who had been with him through the thick and thin. To have cast her off. To have become the person who did that.

It’s just luck, so he thinks, that the memory follows him into his dreamspace.

“All I wanted was for you to ask me to stay. I don’t know if I would have, but I wanted you to ask.”

The dream words cut deeply. The setting is the same as the memory, though she is sitting beside him. This is one of the few dreams where Bran finds he still cannot feel his legs, as if this were life. He tries not to notice that she’s naked, as is he. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d had a dream get sidetracked like so.

“If I asked you now?” His voice quietly seeks.

She ducks her head, paying no mind to the rope in her hands. He reaches and grabs it, wrapping it around his wrists loosely.

And then he leans forward to kiss her, with a certainty he would have never even dreamed of having in waking life. The noise she makes hurts him deep inside. She’s warm, and tastes of summer rain. Then she shudders.

“It isn’t fair, “ she whispers, barely a breath away from his lips “It isn’t fair that this is just me dreaming something that could never be.”

Overcome, he reaches out with one hand to embrace her, running the fingers of his hand through her thick hair. When he pulls back, he only does so far enough so that he can wrap both of their wrists with the length of rope and ties the ends together in two intertwining overhand knots.

Meera lifts her wrist and examines it.

“You know what the fishermen call this right?”

Those are the last words before he wakes, and Bran clings to them desperately. Her words are his tether.

Without even leaving bed, he reaches and rereads the words he’d written the night before. They are true, and honest, but feel so stilted. Before he can send it, he has to.

Bran’s not much of an artist, but the lines are easy enough, two overhand knots interlocking, and below it written.

I know what the fishermen call it, and I forgot my tether.

Gods above, if he hadn’t actually managed to reach out and touch her he was going to sound like double the madman he feels.

After he sends the letter off with the messenger, it takes all of Bran’s strength not to look. He’s resisted anyway, put off by his last memory of Meera, but now he feels that looking might make his attempts to stay grounded worse. He cannot let the Three-Eyed Raven stay in control.

He resists every single urge to peek into the future. The glimpses has made his rule easier, to be sure, but it’s also the easiest way to lose himself.

It seems people notice too. Tyrion asks him one day during petitions if he’s beginning to feel more like himself.

“I can’t say I knew you before, but-”

“I’m trying. Me before was just a child, but I’m trying.”

His attempts are aided by Arya’s reappearance in King’s Landing. Her formal welcome is brief,

“This place looks much better than when I left,” she says, “It seems you’re doing a good enough job.”

“The fire gave us a chance to start anew, and I’ve got plenty of help.”

Arya still moves nervously, as if she is unsure of her next moves. But she is happy, happy to see him, happy to be back with stories. When he has their dinner brought to his solar so they can eat in peace, she notices the ropes tied around his wrist. He’d put them there the night he sent the message to Greywater Watch, and touching it seems to help center him.

“You remembered something I showed you.” Her eyes are wide. She’d practiced her knots quite a bit before she’d set out for her voyage, and in his more lucid moments, she’d shows him several and taught him their names. He could have figured it out himself, but her teaching him felt important to her. She looks touched, and Bran is again grasped by guilt for what he had let himself become.

Breaking the reverie, she adds,

“I still think the name is overdramatic.”

“Sailors and fishermen spend so much time away from their loved ones, “ Bran tells her, hoping to nudge her heart, “It’s not surprising that they might be romantic in their naming. I’m surprised you don’t like the symbolism.”

Arya wrinkles her nose,

“What do you mean?”

Bran tugs at the loose tips under the bend.

“The two lines can still be moved independently of each other, even though they can’t be separated unless the knot is undone. “

Arya looks mollified by his words. Her eyes are shining. She jumps forward to hug him gleefully.

“I’m so glad you seem more like you again. Magic be damned, I missed my little brother.”

“I’m still a little lost,” he admits, “But I think I can find my anchor again. At least I hope.”

The messenger doesn’t return until a week after Arya’s departed, making her way to Storm’s End. And he doesn’t return alone.

Meera looks much the same as he remembers. Her hair, having grown a bit longer during their journey, has been trimmed back above her collar. Her cheeks are pinker, and she looks better fed. She carries her net on one hip, her knife on the other. He’s grateful she did not bring her spear.

She truly does not look like someone who had been summoned by royalty. But who did anymore? Bran himself has never ha a taste for dressing richly, and only wears his crown when the ceremony would demand it.

Her face is equal parts confusion, hope and a guarded facade.

Tyrion greets her when she arrives with a similar look on his face. Though he really should know better by now, it would be a lie to say he hadn’t become attached to his young king.

When Tyrion leads her into throne room, Bran asks him to leave them. It takes all his nerves not to retreat back into himself, to hide.

Meera takes a seat, and glances up at the Iron Throne. One of the first things Bran had done in the Red Keep was to set up a table and chairs instead, to hear petitions. Even if he had been able to handle the stairs, he finds the thing ugly and abhorrent, and a reminder of all the blood that had been spilled because of it.

“For all the fighting over it, it looks terribly uncomfortable,” is how she breaks the silence.

“However you think it, it’s worse, I think I might order it melted down,” he responds.

There’s another long pause. Meera shifts uncomfortably in her chair, knowing exactly why she came, but unsure still if she should hope.

“Why did you write me that letter?” she cuts through to the point.

Bran nearly chokes himself getting the words out.

“Because I played too close to the edge, and went overboard. I didn’t have my tether.”

Her face transforms, through the steps of disbelief, nervousness, recognition and powerfully uncertain joy.

“Can -can we please dispense with the metaphors?”

“I don’t want to hide anymore,” he says with more power in his voice than he really intends. “I want to be Bran Stark again, but I get so lost, if I’m not careful, my mind becomes a maze that I can’t find my way out of.”

He reaches out across the table to take her hand. He stumbles and nearly loses his breath when he notices she’s got a rope tied around her own wrist just like he does. From the way she jumps, she’s apparently noticed too.

“I’m so, so sorry for the way I treated you before. I could try and say it wasn’t me, but it’s my fault either way. I let this happen to me, I let myself be dragged off into the world of the Three-Eyed Raven, and but now I just want to be Bran again. Ever since the dreams started, grounding myself has been easier, and I think it’s because of you. You make me want to be a person again.”

In a single smooth movement, Meera stands and moves to the other side of the table, seating herself on the edge.

“How can I know that you’re not just going to disappear again?”

Bran looks up at her. He’s used to people, women too, standing over him. It hadn’t been so bad with Meera, she wasn’t especially tall, but now she really feels like she’s looking down at him.

“I can’t promise anything. But if I leave again, if you can’t pull me back? Feel free to do exactly what you did before. All I’m asking is that you try and keep me here, now.”

If he loses himself again, he doesn’t think there would be anything he could do. He would be gone, truly.

She slips down off the table and takes both of his hands in hers. He only has a half second to react before she kisses him. He tries to meet her halfway, and bumps her nose with his, making her giggle against his mouth. She doesn’t taste of anything but her.

She pulls back ever so slightly, and cocks an eyebrow at him.

“So did you know I was going to do that?”

He laughs then, a deep belly laugh. He hasn’t done that in a while.

“I hoped.”

She laughs too, a beautiful sound. And then kisses him again. One of his hands comes free and touches the side of her face.

When they come up for air, Meera giggles again.

“Well I suppose I have just one more question.”

Bran is confused. Elated, but confused. Elated, giddy, light-headed, all those good words. His blood is rushing in his veins, in a way it hasn’t since the North.

She tilts her head, to whisper conspiratorially in his ear.

“That last dream, did it start as yours or mine?”

Bran feels his cheeks go red. He used to hate blushing, but now it’s something else to make him feel human. He fingers the rope at her wrist gently.

“Does it matter?”

“Not really, it can be ours.”

#game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #breera #bran x meera #fic

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