#( CACKLING - null. )

[roseaesynstylae]

Alpha-17 being a mother hen to the other Alphas* is something we need to see more. Jangotat survives because Alpha stomps in, shrieking obscenities, and drags his ass away, pausing only to yell at Obi-Wan for daring to put his little brother in danger (nevermind that that's what they're currently supposed to do). Maze doesn't tell him about Ordo punching him because if he did, Alpha would make sure the body wouldn't be recognizable as a corpse. Muzzle and Fordo don't get that brotherly overprotectiveness because they're just as prone to mother-henning as Alpha is. On their days off, the three of them team up to make the lives of anyone who dares fuck with their siblings hell.

*Specifically the Alphas that serve the Republic. Do you really think Mr. "They grow up loyal to the Republic or they don't grow up at all" would be at all sympathetic to Sull and Spar's reasons? The best case scenario is that he tells them that he's pulled some strings (read: blackmailed and threatened) to get them back into the GAR scot-free and if they do not accept it he will break their fucking limbs and drag them back.

[isurrendertoclones]

Kal Skirata:

[hizznbyte]

Shoutout to Polly who, for some god forsaken reason decided to encourage my delusional thirst for that man TM by making an effort to dress up as him when meeting up with me last Friday. What the fuck.

[triviabots-mailbox]

[ he's humming as he helps dress triviabot in a new suit. the jacket was pink, with red hearts on the tie. ]

the shulker has more colors for you to pick from but i thought this one fit the theme for today. happy valentine's day triviabot.

> This is spectacular! Thank you dad, Happy Valentines Day! Be who you are for your pride.

[ There was a happy face on his monitor. ]

[theemporium]

[2.6k] following the aftermath of the impromptu vegas wedding, little leclerc and max navigate married life. and charles is still not coping well with the whole situation.

series masterlist

.

“Does this mean I get to sit in the Red Bull garage in Abu Dhabi?” 

Charles’ head snapped around, his jaw clenched and his nostrils flaring. And if he wasn’t currently on hold with the fifth lawyer he had contacted in the last hour, you could’ve sworn he would’ve jumped over the bed and smothered you with the pillow you were currently holding to your chest. 

“Don’t give me that look,” you muttered as you rolled your eyes. “Maybe I want a change of scenery. I’m always in the Ferrari garage.”

“You’ve seen the Alpha Tauri and the Alpine garage too,” Charles retorted. 

You shot him a blank look. “That’s because you have Pierre watching over me like a stalker.” 

“No, he’s just being your friend,” your brother tried again. 

“So him barking at the mechanic who was just getting me water had nothing to do with the promise you made him keep?” You countered, watching as a flush of pink spread across Charles’ cheeks. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he scoffed with a dismissive wave of his hand. 

“Liar, Pierre told me about the promise,” you mused, watching as his face burned even brighter at your admission. 

As it would turn out, finding a last minute lawyer to completely null and break the marriage was much harder than Charles ever intended it to be. And after he was practically forced to halt his attempts until the race had passed, the high of P2 didn’t seem to thwart your brother’s efforts in completely shattering the connection between you and Max Verstappen. 

He had spent every free and waking moment trying to sort out the mess, including now contacting lawyers back in Monaco to get involved. And yet, the boy seemed to be getting nowhere. 

“Shouldn’t you be focused on the last race of the season instead of this mess anyways?” You continued as your eyes glanced over at the clock on the wall. “We need to leave for the airport soon. I don’t think they are going to hold the jet because you’re phoning divorce lawyers—even if you’re Charles Leclerc.” 

“You seem eager to stay married to him,” Charles grumbled under his breath as he narrowed his eyes at you. “Is there something you’re not telling me? Was this planned? Have you been seeing him for a while now?” 

“Are you hearing yourself right now?” You shook your head, letting out a huff as you pulled the pillow closer to your chest. “How come Yuki isn’t getting as much shit as I am?” 

“Because Yuki is not my sister,” he stated simply, pausing for a moment before he continued. “Plus, Yuki and his partner seem very happily married.” 

You perked up a little. “Wait, you know who he married?” 

“Well no,” Charles admitted, his brows furrowing together. “But he must be, no? He’s been happy ever since the wedding. They must be keeping it private.” 

“Apparently he didn’t even tell Pierre,” you said to your brother, leaning back against the headboard with a sigh. “Maybe he’s embarrassed with who he married.” 

“Can’t be more embarrassing than marrying you—OW!” 

“Don’t say stupid things then,” you snapped back at him with an innocent smile on your face. “You’re just pissed I got married before you.” 

Charles’ glare hardened. “No, I’m pissed because you got married in Vegas of all places.” There was a pause. “And the fact you practically married a stranger!”

“Max is hardly a stranger, you’ve known him since you were like five years old!” You argued back.

“Still a stranger!”

“You are so dramatic,” you commented. “Maman accepted it, why can’t you?”

“Maman is confused,” Charles muttered with a crease between his eyebrows. 

You raised your brows. “Did you say that to her?”

Charles’ face paled a little. “Well no—”

Your grin widened.

Charles blanched. “Don’t you dare!”

You cackled as you reached for your phone. “This is payback for disrespecting me and my husband!” 

...

...

“I don’t understand why I have to be blindfolded.”

“It’s a precaution insisted by Christian.”

“Do all wives have to be blindfolded then?”

“The ones with the former name Leclerc do.”

You pressed your lips together to hide your smile as you wrapped your arms around Max’s bicep, letting him lead you into the Red Bull garage with the black cloth tied over your eyes. You knew you probably didn’t have long until Charles came running to drag you out of the Red Bull garage and back to the red side, so you took up Max’s offer in the meantime. 

You didn’t count on Christian Horner being two steps away from Red Bull’s very own Christian Grey to his garage guests. 

“Does this mean I get to blindfold you when you come to the Ferrari garage?” You asked, your voice lighthearted and your tone teasing. 

“It is one of the scenarios I would let you blindfold me,” Max answered and it took everything in you to not suddenly halt your steps. 

“Max Verstappen, you little flirt,” you said as you let out a disbelieving laugh, hoping the boy hadn’t turned back to look at you when you could feel your face heating up. 

“You’re my wife. Surely I’m allowed to flirt with you now,” the Dutchman retorted, his hands moving to rest over yours as you two finally came to a stop. 

“You’re saying you wouldn’t have flirted with me before?” 

“That feels like a trick question,” Max snorted before his fingers nimbly undid the knot behind your head, letting the blindfold fall away from your eyes as he stood in front of you with an almost smug look on his face. “But I would have flirted with you if I didn’t think your brother would have my balls for it.”

“So you just married me instead,” you retorted with a smile of your own.

“What can I say, I don’t half-ass things,” he said with a casual shrug of his shoulders.

“I should have known you give the vibes of a Vegas wedding kinda guy,” you remarked as you blinked a few times, getting used to the shift in light as you began looking around the garage. It didn’t look too different from the Ferrari garage, but it was still intriguing to witness it all. 

A different team. A different car. A different work ethic. 

After so many years with Ferrari, it felt like being in a foreign country as you stood amongst so much blue.

“What kind of wedding would you have wanted?” 

The question snapped you out of your daze, whirling your head around to look at the Dutchman with a curious expression. You waited to see if a witty remark was going to follow, but he continued to stare at you expectantly and you realised he was genuinely waiting for an answer.

“I don’t know,” you answered honestly. “I mean, I know my mother always wanted me to have a fairytale wedding at some pretty venue in a white dress and—”

“I didn’t ask what wedding your mother would have wanted, I asked what wedding you would have wanted,” Max interrupted, and your lips parted a little in surprise. 

“A fun one,” you replied. 

Max’s brows furrowed together. “A fun one?”

“Yes, a fun one. You asked me what wedding I would want and it’s a fun one,” you repeated with a nod of your head, smiling a little at the visible confusion written across his face. “Everybody always talks about weddings being so intense and stressful and that’s just…not me. I don’t care about where it is or what season it’s held in. I would just want to be with the people I love and I want to have a good time.” 

He nodded, his lips pressed together as though he was processing your answer. “Surely the Vegas wedding fits that.”

“It would have if my family and friends were there,” you said, laughing a little. “Despite the dinner invite, Maman will probably string me up for not getting married with her there.”

Max’s eyes widened comically. “Wait, she was serious about that?” 

You snorted. “She’s already sent me the menu.”

“I am actually having dinner with your mother?” Max hissed and, for the first time in your life witnessed with your own eyes, you could have sworn he looked nervous.

“She won’t bite,” you laughed. 

“Oh my god, I am meeting your mother.”

“Well, she does want to meet the man I married.” 

“Oh my god, I am meeting your mother as your husband.”

...

...

“Be honest: would you have made me a bridesmaid at your wedding?” 

You blinked, looking up from the burrito bowl you had managed to grab from Ferrari’s catering before you looked at the blond across from you. 

“Or a bridesman. Whatever you call it,” Logan continued as he looked at you expectantly. 

You stared at the American with a fairly blank expression, though it didn’t seem to do much to his eagerness for you to answer the question. Though, you didn’t know why you were surprised about the whole thing. The last week had been Logan throwing random questions at you, Arthur laughing at your facial expressions and Oscar deeply sighing at the whole interaction. 

“You weren’t even invited to the wedding,” Oscar pointed out, poking about the salad bowl he had. 

“Neither were you,” Logan retorted.

“And thank god for that, Lando showed me the pictures,” Oscar grumbled with his nose scrunched up. “I would have been traumatised for life if I witnessed it with my own two eyes.” 

“Hey,” you frowned, kicking your foot out under the table until you hit his shin. “You know what, I’m suddenly excited not to see either of you during the winter break.”

Oscar snorted. “Sure.” 

“You still haven’t answered my question,” Logan piped up, his attention shifting to you once again. “Would you let me?”

“Depends,” you answered honestly as you leaned back in your seat. “Would you want to do a speech?”

Logan scoffed. “Obviously.”

“Then no,” you replied almost instantly.

The boy gaped at you. “What? Why not?”

“Because I don’t trust you,” you stated simply before you glanced over at Oscar too. “Neither of you, if I’m being honest.”

Oscar’s brows furrowed together. “Woah, what did I do?” 

“Existed,” you grumbled under your breath, only for the Australian to be the one to kick your shin under the table this time. “Ouch!”

“Not so fun, is it?” He grumbled back at you. 

“You didn’t even have a speech at your wedding! Surely no speech is worse than a bad one,” Logan added, far too invested on a speech you doubted he could even write.

“That’s not true. Yuki did a speech,” you told him.

Both boys’ raised their eyebrows. “He did?”

“Probably, seems like something he would do,” you shrugged. 

“Or maybe his partner gave it,” Oscar added. “Whoever that may be.”

“I can’t believe he still won’t tell us,” you said with your lips turned downwards. “In the Red Bull garage, Christian even asked him and he just giggled before running off.” 

“Maybe he’s a private guy.”

“You were in the Red Bull garage?” 

“Your difference in priorities are baffling,” you noted with an amused expression. “Yes, I was in the Red Bull garage. And Yuki being a private person is a load of bullshit. He’s the biggest gossip on the grid, he’s just sneakier than everyone else.”

“Which means he would hide it better,” Oscar pointed out. 

“At least Yuki would let me say a speech at his wedding,” Logan muttered under his breath.

“Would he though?”

“Shut up.” 

“I’m just saying—”

“You know what, I hope Lando scars you with more photos from her wedding,” Logan threatened, staring at the Aussie with narrowed eyes.

“Hey, my wedding photos aren’t that scary!” You frowned.

“The one of Max’s tongue down your throat says otherwise.”

“I am literally trying to eat my salad, can both of you shut up?”

...

...

“So, are we gonna talk about it?”

“Talk about what?”

“Your wedding.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Ha! Sure!”

Max’s brows furrowed together as he lifted his head, only to find the Australian staring at him already. They had both been huddled in his driver room in between meetings and practise sessions, enjoying some peace and quiet before the social media team tried to rope them into some weird activity. However, what Max assumed would be a mostly silent hangout where he could read over some data quickly devolved into the older Australian making little remarks until he finally gave in and put his tablet down.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh nothing,” Daniel said as he gave the boy a casual shrug, though his grin only seemed to widen in response. Max was about to open his mouth, to tell him that was fine before he returned to his work, but the Aussie already began speaking again. “I just think it’s such a funny coincidence that your childhood crush is now your wife.”

Max froze, his cheeks instantly heating up at his words. “I don’t know what you’re on about.”

“No? The conversation where you told me you had the fattest crush on Charles’ little sister growing up and used to constantly try to impress her on the karting races she visited doesn’t ring a bell?” Daniel continued, feigning innocence despite the fact he could see Max’s face growing pinker by the second.

“I think you have the wrong person,” Max said as he cleared his throat, suddenly finding his tablet interesting once again even though the numbers and words on the screen were practically gibberish to his whirling mind.

“And the conversation where you couldn’t stop talking about how pretty she was when you bumped into her in the paddock on Charles’ first Formula One race?”

“You must have imagined that conversation.”

“What about the time you ignored that famous actor because Lando told you he flirted with her when he visited the Ferrari garage?”

“I have no recognition of that.”

“And the time you—”

“Is there a point to this?” Max suddenly interrupted him, his face feeling as though it was on fire and his heart beating wildly in his chest and the smug look on his friend’s face was doing little to help the feelings bubbling in his stomach. 

“I am just waiting to see when you’re going to admit you masterminded this whole thing,” Daniel said to him, so sure and blunt about the statement.

“I didn’t mastermind anything,” Max said with a frown. “We got drunk and we got married in Vegas. Many people have done it before us. Many people will do it after us too.”

“And the fact she was your first love?” Daniel questioned.

“She was not,” Max scoffed, pausing for a moment before he continued. “And even if she was, I don’t like her like that anymore.”

“Oh, of course,” Daniel snickered under his breath. “So I am assuming you’re rushing to help Charles find a divorce lawyer then?”

Max paused for a few seconds too long. “Yeah, I mean. After the last race, obviously. My focus needs—”

“To be on a race that has no effect on your life other than adding another trophy to your shelf?” Daniel teased. “As if you couldn’t be talking to lawyers on the radio whilst racing with your eyes shut.”

“It’s just not a priority right now,” Max huffed out, clearing his throat a little.

“Uh huh,” Daniel laughed, shaking his head. “You know, usually the first step is a date, not marriage but I am going to respect whatever lil’ mastermind plan you have concocted in your head.”

Max let out a whine, throwing his head back. “I don’t have a plan!”

Daniel raised his brows. “So inviting her to watch the race from the Red Bull garage is just a random act of kindness to the enemy then?”

“She’s my wife, not the enemy. And it’s not random at all.”

Daniel snorted.

“Oh fuck off,” Max grumbled. “This is why you weren’t invited to the wedding in the first place.” 

“Actually, you did—”

“Shut up.”

...

liked by arthur_leclerc, oscarpiastri, landonorris and 261, 738 others

yourusername season over and out🫡gonna go bully charles with the dutch national anthem for three months now

view all 13,547 comments

landonorris that's just evil

yourusername shut up or i will bully you too

landonorris why are you so rude when i am literally your personal photographer

yourusername you still made me pay for dinner

user IS THAT MAX???

user omg not the red bull/ferrari contrast

user i wonder how charles is taking this

arthur_leclerc still badly

oscarpiastri i have been begging for you to wear a mclaren cap all year

yourusername keep begging, loser

user the montagues and capulets could never

logansargeant i'm taking the blue as williams support too

maxverstappen1 keep telling yourself that

yourusername be nice

user HELP THE WAY HE IS PROTECTING THE RED BULL BLUE IN THE COMMENTS

user this is my roman empire

charles_leclerc take this down

yourusername no

charles_leclerc take this down please

yourusername still no

maxverstappen1 too much red

yourusername you said i looked good in red :(

maxverstappen1 i said you looked good in red bull merch, get your facts right

yourusername someone's cranky after all the shots last night

user THEY HAVE JUST ACCEPTED THE MARRIAGE AND BLATANTLY STARTED FLIRTING ON MAIN STOP

charles_leclerc why would you say this

.

[letternotekisses]

nghhh your blog has made me think of the idea of Doomfist giving his assistant to Ramattra as a way of bridging an alliance between Talon and Null sector....Ram using the assistant as a little stress toy......help

Akande knows how to sweeten a deal.

He’s negotiated and bartered with so many powerful men that swaying them comes to be like second nature for him, but this time it’s a little different. This is no man and there’s no greedy human nature Akande can target. There is no weakness.

Your heels clack against the glossy mahogany flooring as you patter beside him, clutching important notices and valuable documents close to your chest like they might fly away. And you’re tittering away with a casualness that he’d let no another agent of his get away with, but Akande isn’t the only one listening.

Ramattra tilted his head with something that could only be described as curiosity. Such a small thing, you were. Surrounded by dangerous killers and meticulous assassins that would exploit your every weakness should you let down your guard, yet you led him through the halls with all the grace and confidence of a pampered feline pet.

Nothing you were saying was of any importance to the omnic, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away, intently listening to every word that fell from your soft, pouty lips. You were valuable to Akande somehow, special in a way that had Ramattra craving a personal insight.

“My assistant will help you get settled in.”

Akande smiles at him, both knowing and smug as he offers him a key to what Ramattra assumes is the room he’ll be staying in. It is then when the omnic realises he’s been caught staring, but Akande only seems all too pleased.

He’d found his bartering chip, squeezed into an all too tight skirt and a low cut blouse.

—

It’s when you take him to the hilt that Ramattra finally decides on his answer.

Such a soft, sweet little thing you are. Panting into the air as he splays a hand onto your lower back, digging his metal fingers into the fat of your hips to drag you down further. Humans, so malleable, so weak, so soft. Your cunt flutters around the silicone of his cock, sucking him impossibly deeper despite the already snug fit.

“Ambitious, aren’t you?” Ramattra snarls, shifting his hips forward to bump the fat tip of his cock deeper, to bully himself into the softest parts of you. You’re whimpering into the satin sheets like a bitch in heat and it urges him to break you, to cup the soft pudge of your tummy and force himself as deep as he could ever possibly go.

Ramattra had little need for pleasures of the flesh, but there was something all too gratifying about watching you urge yourself on something much too big for you to take. For someone so insignificant, Ramattra was all too tempted to indulge in you, after all, you’d all but been handed over to him on a silver platter.

“Please..” You whine, your begging quickly silenced by a powerful pump of his hips, the cables attached to his head falling past his shoulders in disheveled waves. He wants to tear into your softness. Bury himself inside you and never come back out. He’d give Akande all of the resources he could want just for a few extra minutes between your plush thighs.

He all but cackles, the noise deep and synthetic as he watches your cunt flutter greedily around him. Ramattra pins you down by the back of your neck, revelling in your heat as it bleeds into his hands, warming the metal when he thumbs your nape in a soothing manner.

“Come on my cock, little assistant,” He purrs, his voice staticky with want, “And I will reward your excellence.”

[thevoidstaredback]

Danny so does not get paid nearly enough for this. He’s gonna demand pay for this whole mission! First, though, he has to survive.

After he’d beaten Pariah Dark, Clockwork explained to him how Challenges work. Anyone can issue a Challenge, of which is always combat. It has to be issued and completed inside King’s Keep, or the Challenge is determined null and the King still reigns until they are beaten. To win a Challenge, either of the two - and there can never be more than two combatants - fighters must either kill or End the other. To kill a Ghost is to force them into their core. To End a Ghost is to crush or otherwise destroy their core.

Danny hadn’t killed or Ended Pariah Dark. The Realms had stepped in and done so for him after he’d left, and yet She’d still crowned him King. When he asked, Clockwork had shrugged and told him the Realms did whatever She wanted.

Pariah’s Keep had been all sharp and jagged edges, crumpling in disuse, red and black. Phantom’s Keep had softened the building, bloomed a proper garden and courtyard, filled in with jewels, green and white marble. Now, whoever was issuing a Challenge to Phantom had changed the Keep unnaturally, forcing the change before even meeting Phantom. Now the colours and plants  had dulled to the likeness of a desert dune field and there was smoke leaking through the roof of the throne room.

Phantom landed on the front steps, ignoring the cracked marble in favor of the deja vu that was invading his mind. He could still remember, clear as glass, the day he’d fought Pariah Dark. He’d nearly died that day.

He marched up the steps.

Inside the throne room, the banners had been torn down and burned by the now red-fire torches. The previously white marble floor had been scorched and nearly shattered. The throne, black with white, was now occupied by the one Ghost Phantom hadn’t seen in too long.

“Plasmius,” he greeted.

The Ghost smirked. “Phantom.”

He looked around, though he never let the other out of his sight. “Hate what you’ve done with the place. It suits you.”

“You really think so?”

“Have I ever lied to you?”

“Quite frequently, I remember.”

“Hm,” Phantom hummed, approaching the dais, “That’s weird, ‘cause I don’t remember having ever lied to you, Uncle.”

Plasmius shrugged. “There you go again, nephew.”

Phantom laughed humorlessly. “You got me there, man.” In a flash, he was in front of Plasmius, an ecto-made broadsword - a weapon Pandora had taught him to use a while ago - at his throat. “You’re a bad actor. Where’s Vlad.”

“What’re you-”

Phantom pushed harder, drawing green blood from the shallow wound. “Cut the shit! Where’s Vlad!”

The Ghost grinned, big and wrong and familiar. “Can’t get anything by you, huh?” They faded into a shadow, traveling and reappearing behind him. “I take it you accept my challenge, then?”

Phantom turned around, growling. “Only if you drop your disguise. Where is he!”

The Ghost’s grin was back as they laughed. Shadows covered them shortly before melting off, taking Plasimus’s face with them, revealing a Shade in his place. “Do you really want to know?”

He’d never really gotten along with Vlad, but they’d come to an understanding after the man had become a ghost full-time.

The Shade laughed harder now, nearly doubling over. “Dead.”

Phantom’s face fell. “...what?”

“Dead!” The Shade cheered, “Gone! Expired! Departed!Perished! Fallen! Departed! Ended!”

The Shade’s cackles faded into the background. Vlad was…

Something in Danny, the same thing he’d felt when he’d heard the news of his family, cracked.

Roaring, he accepted the Challenge and charged the Shade, swiping the broadsword at their neck. They dodged back, bringing two knives from the shadows before springing back at him, aiming for his torso with the clip blade while aiming for his arm with the curved blade.

“I will never forgive you!” He screamed. The Realms shuddered. The Sade cackled.

The two traded blows under the eyes of the Realms, evenly matched for nearly five minutes. An impressive five minutes  of neither getting hurt. Eventually, though, one of them had to cave.

Phantom cut for the Shade’s torso. They dived under the blow, managing to cut Phantom’s left arm, just blow his elbow with their curved blade. He jumped back, the broadsword dropping from his grip as the pain stung. The sword dissolved.

“What,” the Shade taunted, “done already?”

While fighting, neither combatant will be healed by the Realms.

Phantom scowled, creating a bo staff. “Not even close.”

He charged again, spinning the bo to aim for their head. When they dodged, he quickly aimed for their legs, striking them in the shin.

They jumped back, landing in a crouch with their hurt leg extended. They frowned, the first time their smile had dropped since the Challenge was issued and accepted. Then, they leaped toward him again, dropping the clip blade to punch his jaw. He blocked, hitting their wrist with the tip of his bo while he stepped back.

Following him, the Shade used their forward momentum to go into a front handspring, picking up their clip blade as they launched. As soon as they were back on their feet, they lunged again. Phantom met them blow for blow, spinning with his staff.

Their dance traveled through the throne room, neither allowing it to get close to the doors.

On the steps of the dais, the Shade swiped at Phantom’s neck. When he blocked, they tripped him, throwing him down. Before he could recover, they planted their foot on his chest and knocked his bo staff from his hand to dissolve on the marble floor.

They pushed the curved blade to Phantom’s neck, drawing green blood from the shallow cut. “Any last words, King Phantom?”

Phantom’s eyes narrowed as he shifted. “How’d you End Plasmius?”

Their head tilted to the side as if wondering why he was asking. They answered nonetheless. “Did you know you fight like him? Just as cocky, just as prone to rage.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he grunted, grappling their wrist and grappling for the curved blade. He managed to throw them off, keeping the curved blade for himself.

The Shade scowled, rolling to their feet. “Why won’t you die!”

“Sorry, Nyssa, but you’re gonna have to try a lot harder than that!”

They froze. “How do you know that name?”

“Your name?” He taunted, “It’s took me a while, but you’re just as grotesque as your father and sister, Nyssa Raatko.”

She roared, charging in with her clip blade, wildly swiping at him. He continued to dodge around her. “Do not mention their names!”

“Upset because neither noticed you died?”

“Shut up!”

“They let you keep using the Pits! Why should you be mad?”

“Stop it!”

She cut at his arm. He ducked around, cutting her throat as he spun behind her. She dropped to the ground, dropping her clip blade and bringing both hands to try and stop the blood flow.

Phantom, too, dropped the curved knife, gathering the ect around him into another broadsword. From behind, he hefted it up with both hands- “For what it’s worth, you fought valiantly.” -and brought it down on her neck, cutting off her head.

The Realms shuddered as Nyssa’s body melted into shadows. Slowly, Phantom’s Keep restored itself.

Phantom let the broadsword dissolve. As the Keep repaired, he picked up the two knives. As Spoils of War, they were to be displayed in the treasury. With a sigh, he sat on his throne and mourned.

Part 28 Part 30

[lunarflux]

x: Thomas Shelby found his match in an information bookie who has eluded the grasp of the Peaky Blinders long enough to crumble their power over Birmingham. But at last, he found you. The ghost he'd been chasing was finally in front of him, but you were trickier than he expected. Dangerous, cunning - and a bit too much like himself. To buy your loyalty, he would have to sell his in equal measure. Loyalty for loyalty - blood for blood - how much were either of you willing to spill before the game changed entirely?

part 2: ghost on the field

word count: 2,001

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Thomas Shelby didn’t make deals lightly. Every conversation, every transaction had a cost. But you had a way about yourself that made him reconsider his usual approach. He didn’t trust easily, and he had been burned enough times to know that the wrong person could send everything to hell. But there was something in you, something he hadn’t quite figured out yet, but it was enough to make him want to keep watching.

When you arrived at the Garrison, he was two seconds away from considering the deal null and void. Perhaps having him on your side really wasn't worth what he thought it'd be, and if it came down to it, he'd try to dwindle down your influence one man at a time.

But then you walked in, coat open despite the winter chill. The first three buttons of your blouse were undone - exposed enough to see the freckles on your chest. You pulled a chair back and poured yourself two fingers of whiskey.

"So this is the ghost," Arthur laughed through the smoke. John stood off to the side, propped against the doorframe. He watched your movements carefully.

Your eyes didn't avert from Tommy's, ignoring their presence all together.

"I take it we have an agreement."

You sipped the beverage slowly until only meager drops were left sliding down the edge of the glass. Arthur stood, circling behind you like a vulture waiting for the stench of death to rise.

"Conditionally," you said, your eyes glimmering with amusement.

"Name your terms." Tommy refilled your glass, and, again, you finished the full serving before answering him.

"How do you plan to show me what possessing you is worth?"

Possessing him, now that was an interesting notion. But if that was how you defined having his loyalty, then he was in no position to argue. You wanted proof - proof that what he was offering wasn't just an empty promise. You stared him down, silently urging him to answer.

"Do we really need her?" Arthur lowered his face down to your cheek.

When the stench of stale smoke reached your nose, you bore your hostility with few words. "Two steps back, Arthur," you said coldly and was met with the sound of his chuckle by your ear.

Arthur's breath caught in his throat at the faint prodding of something by his crotch. He looked down and found a small dagger gripped between your fingers - the tip threatening to tear the seams of his trousers.

Tommy motioned for him to step away. He removed a spare cigarette from his pocket and offered it to you.

You accepted it with a grin and tossed the dagger into your empty glass. That low cackle rumbled as the intensity of Arthur's glare came into sight. You held the cigarette out, and Tommy lit it carefully. Sitting back, you looked up at him through your lashes. "I take it I will have to wait and find out."

Over the next few weeks, Tommy kept his distance, but his eyes were never far from you. You moved through Birmingham with the same quiet confidence, handling your business like it was second nature, no flash, no fuss—just results. Results that funneled back to him at the end of the day, and that was all he cared about. The infamous ghost was now in the open, haunting in all the right places. That was something Tommy respected. The way you worked told him you weren't one to make promises unless you intended to keep them.

You worked your influence from the periphery, always to the side when Tommy made his deals. If someone lied, you knew. If they told the truth, you knew. And if a deal was about to go south, somehow you knew before anyone else.

Tommy caught word that there were newcomers encroaching on their territory. Before it came down to something more... explosive, they arrived at the Garrison. He expected a brief talk. He needed to know how determined they were and where their boundaries lay. Only then would he know how much effort it would require to settle it.

One of the men talked with unphased confidence, rattling on about bringing in more people from London, ones that ultimately would strengthen the Blinder's influence. As he spoke, Tommy felt the tension in his head growing larger. It felt like empty talk, but the names he gave were ones not so easily recognized.

The door to the room parted, and you walked in. Your heels clicked against the worn floorboards with each step, meticulously placing yourself at Tommy's side. The men each studied you, some with obvious stares at the curve of your back. You put your hand on Tommy's shoulder and lowered your lips to his ear, your breath delicately trickling down his cheek like a drop of dew. Arthur and John held back the urge to pull you away.

Your hair fell over your cheek, and the scent of your perfume drifted across Tommy's nose, a distinctly sweet aroma that slowly carried throughout the room.

"He's got a price on his head," you whispered, almost playfully. You never revealed enough for him to use it. You wanted him to wonder, maybe even ask for an explanation, but he played the game well.

Tommy's jaw tightened. Not only was his time being wasted, but now you dared to show yourself. There's a gleam in your eye as you delivered the information, a flicker of lighthearted satisfaction as you watch Tommy's mood shift. He glanced up at you as if to confirm that he understood. In that brief moment, you sense his silent approval.

"Get rid of him."

Before Tommy can respond, you tilted your head again, still close to his skin, and brushed your lips against his cheek. The touch was light but unmistakable, and the warmth lingered longer than he expected. It was a bold move - one that told everyone in the room that you enjoyed every second of how this would play out, a muted chaos that would inevitably bubble to the surface. You straightened your back and glanced at the baffled men across the table before walking out just as boldly as when you arrived.

A crude grin spread across the stranger's face. He pointed towards the door as if you were still standing nearby. "A striking woman you've got there, Mr. Shelby. Keeping the missus around you lot. It's a daring move -"

"Get out." Tommy's words set a chill over the room.

No explanation was needed, and any he was willing to give would be for a later conversation. Arthur roughly grabbed the man's collar and dragged him out of the Garrison. John was quick behind him, tossing the rest out to the street. The second the door shut, Tommy stood. He grabbed your arm and pulled you to the back rooms, swiftly locking it.

He closed his eyes, the strain wearing down on him in your presence. "What was that?"

"You seem suspicious of me, Tom. Did I hit a nerve?" You resisted laughing at his inability to contain his frustration with you. You'd managed to last nearly a month keeping yourself hidden, quietly helping him with his dealings, and only now does he show you what he believes his position to be between you.

In control, no cards on the table, all secrets close to the vest.

"You showed yourself."

"Even ghosts grace others with their presence every now and then. You wanted my help. I gave it to you."

Tommy stared you down. This was the only response he should have expected. Everything you were doing for him was at a price, and the longer it took for him to pay up, the more daring you'd get.

"Don't fucking show yourself again." He put weight into each syllable, slowly approaching you with his finger pointed between your eyes. "I asked you for information, not a fucking show."

You didn't back down. Instead, you met him halfway. "You don't notice, but they all have tells. You could have done all of this without me. You're busy trying to wear them down with... Words. Threats. And so I give you just that. Words to threaten them with."

You pushed in closer.

"Careful, Tommy. Don't make me wait too long for that payment." Your eyes flickered between his. "If you think my words can damage men, imagine what else I could do."

All this time, he'd resisted touching you, but you were walking a tightrope. He took your face in his hand, his fingers squeezing just tight enough to force a pout on your lips. "And what will you do when I have to wear them down with something else? Hm?"

"Then the price goes up. And you'll be out of time."

The dim light from the only remaining lamp casted long shadows down his face, the heavy scent of tobacco and whiskey rolling over your tongue as he held you in place. His movements were deliberate, measured - a predator backing a prize into a corner. He stepped forward, and with each tap of his shoes against yours, you backed up until your back hit the edge of the table.

The mumblings of anticipation didn't show on your face. He was determined to settle this conversation on his terms, and he wouldn't let you leave until it was done. He radiated tension, thick and unyielding.

Tommy's grip shifted ever so slightly, possessive and rough. He held your stare in place, and you felt his thumb dig deep just below the edge of your jaw. You wouldn't flinch. There was no fear, just the same cold gaze he'd grown used to seeing every time you'd watch him during the meetings. He waited for the reaction he wanted.

But you stayed still, and the edge of your lip curled into a grin, the kind of smile that hinted no amount of force was going to make this situation go his way.

"You're no good to me dead. You call yourself a ghost, then act like a bloody ghost. What game are you playing?" His voice was low, rough, and the question hung in the air, unclear as to if it was directed towards you or to some omniscient narrator who would have the answer for him.

"Nothing you're familiar with, Tommy. The game I play requires something you're not quite ready to give me." You wrapped your fingers around his wrist and squeezed, gentle enough for his grip to let up. You closed the short gap, your lips grazing the corner of his grimace. Your breath left a trail of warmth across his cheek until you stopped short of his ear. "Maybe you're too broken to understand the weight of the debt you're racking up with me, but touch me like I'm a fucking ragdoll again, and I will make damn sure the next time you need a cigarette, some whore is going to have to hold it for you."

Tommy pushed against you, mirroring your stance. "You're not as untouchable as you think you are. Show yourself again, and you're headed to the pyre." The words trickled down your spine, and he felt you smile against him in response.

Something about the way you laughed unsettled him, but it was this sound that set his nerves on fire at this very moment - not because it showed him that you were powerful. It was something else.

"Neither are you. If I get tied to the pyre, there will be a trail of petrol puddled around your ankles. I burn," you whispered breathlessly against his ear, knowing fully well that the sensation made him twitch. "You burn."

He pulled back and met your eyes directly. His gaze softened ever so subtly as the quiet understanding passed between you both. Tommy Shelby, for all his power and grit, was playing your game - not his. He wanted to break you, but you were not one who bends easily.

[vulpixisananimal]

[A:4 C:66.6]

(Siffrin) {Mal Du Pays} <Null> |Asterion| +Rosmarinus+ =Socks= [Loop] [(Saffron)] 

“Fucking mother of Stars.” (Alex bumps you with their shoulder) “Mr. Mindfreak’s here.”

“Stars. Really?” (You look up from the food stall you’re perusing. Food shopping, it never, ever stops. It’s yourself, Mirabelle, and Groundskeepers; Alex was in the hot seat today, practically taking over as host until Ramos was. . . Alex pointed in a direction. Great!) 

[Avast! All hands to battle stations!]

(Very funny, Loop. Alex shakes her head) “Just our luck, why is he here?”

“Who’s here?” (Mirabelle walked up to the both of you, having finished a hunt for good bread.)

“Perci.” [You grumble. He was looking over a collection of fruits now.] “Any sign of his partner in crime?”

“Not that I can see.” (Alex crosses their arms.) “I think I’ll go talk to him.”

“M-maybe we should, just, leave him be. If he’s not. . .” 

“Right, better idea.” (Alex breathes in, and out. They hold up a finger in a ‘wait a moment’ way. A few seconds later, you see Perci jolt in surprise and drop an apple he was holding.)

(He picks up the apple and locks eyes with the three of you. After a second, he takes a few coins and places it at the stall. He tosses the apple in the air, then starts walking towards you. You feel the hairs on your neck stand on end.)

(He stops a few feet away, looking between the three of you. After a few tense seconds, he tosses the apple to Mirabelle.) “Saviors”

(Mira catches the apple, and looks up at him.) “. . . Perci.”

“. . .” (He looks suspiciously between you all.) “I hope you are all doing. . . Well?”

“Oh we’re just going great, Perci!” [I’m taking over, you clap your hands together.] “My only complaint is the headache standing in front of me! Why are you here, historian?”

“Shopping, what else?” [He scoffs.] “What, were you imagining me in some evil lair cackling to myself plotting your downfall?”

“A little.” [Alex says with a smirk.] “It was more imagining me putting a fist through your skull. Stars, I might as well do that now!”

“Alex!” [Perci lets out an over dramatic gasp.] “Please! There’s innocent people around! What kind of monster would start a fight in the middle of a public market! Really, I expected better of you! For shame.”

“Motherf-” [Alex tenses up, but you couldn’t help but laugh. She glares at you.] “Traitor.”

“Sorry Alex~ That was funny.” [You lean your head on a hand.] “But you have a point, I’m a time looper, Perci, why shouldn’t I just take the day to beat you until you're dead.”

“L-loop!!” [Mirabelle frowns.] “I don’t like him but that’s a-a, a bit, much-”

“Is it?” [You snap back.] “After all he’s done? No! It's perfectly justified!”

“He buried me in my own blinding subconscious.” [Alex glances back.] “I have a score to settle.”

[Mirabelle opens her mouth, but thinks, then closes it. She looks away.] “I. . . W-well. . .”

“It’s alright, Lady Mirabelle.” [Perci bows.] “The feeling’s mutual.”

“Mutual?!?” [You snap back around to glare at Perci.] “How. In the UNIVERSE. Is that a MUTUAL FEELING!!”

“Do you have any idea how close Merlon and I are?!?” [He responds in a contained, but bitter, whisper.] “We are this close to finding a way to bring her home back, your home back! And we just need to figure out a few little things and it’ll be ready! We could have figured this out so much sooner if you just let me have a LOOK!” 

“And that’s somehow my fault?!?”

“Yes!!” [He pulls at his hair and shakes his head.] “It’s simple! Just a moment! I won’t change anything, just look! I don’t want to fight you all, it’s just you’ve all been so. . . So frustrating to work with!!”

“That’s. . .” [You pause, then look away.] “That’s not my problem.”

[. . . Could it, be that easy? You knew a lot about wish craft, yes, but enough to bring the island back? Is that even possible anymore? Stars, you might ha- [Thoughts to yourself, idiot.] You wince, that was Alex’s wonderful chime of a voice in your head. Thanks for the reminder~]

“You need to work on your sales pitch, Perci.” (Alex huffed.) “We know you’re planning something, what’s up your sleeve, I wonder?”

“Me? Planning? Never.” (He chuckled.) “No no, I’m just a bonded man looking to make something nice for my beloved~”

“Sure, and I've been elected to be the next Shining Flare.” (Eyeroll.) “Let me guess, you’re the one causing those nightmares. Aren’t you?”

(He blinks.) “. . . Nightmares?”

[. . .]

(Loop?)

[No. You glare at Perci.] “Don’t play dumb, Percival. There’s a little pandemic of night terrors in our little family and it smells strongly of mints!”

“Odile, Isabeau, Pétronille.” (Mirabelle holds her hands to her chest.) “They’ve all had terrible encounters with, w-with just the worst things!!”

“Sadness.” (Alex. Alex? Maybe-Alex squints at him.) “They’re being plagued by sadness and we’ve had our hands full trying to deal with it. So, what did you do?”

(Perci looks at you all, then to the side, chin resting in his hand. It’s almost like you could feel the gears turning in his head- w-wait can he hear your thoughts?!? You glance up at not-Alex.)

(They glance down at you, <Hand.> O-oh! Altiare! You hold out your hand and they take it, they take Mirabelles hand too. <I’m not that good, but good enough to keep his head from wandering.>)

((W-woah, this is, a-a strange feeling!) Mirabelle blinks, oh! Those are, her thoughts! (Can you-) <PLEASE just talk, this is hard enough as is.>)

(Perci was staring so hard at a point in the ground you’d expect to see sparks of craft shoot from his ears! He closed his eyes, and drummed his fingers on his chin. Eventually, he remembered the three of you existed, and looked up.) “. . . You have the wrong man, saviors.”

“And what makes you say that.” [You put your free hand on your hip.] 

“Mind craft can draw out one's inner sadness, yes, but it’s not my mind craft.” [He put his hands behind his back.] “Because I wouldn’t need to do that to myself. And I would never in a thousand years do that to Merlon.” [Those last words come out sour.]

[You’re looking at him as intensely as you could. Trying to discern if this was true, or not.]

“. . . You’re telling the truth.” [Well there we go then! Altiare sighs and shakes his head.] “I don’t think you could lie about hurting Merlon, right? Just the very thought would have you running home for cuddles and kisses.”

“A-ah! W-well-” [Perci coughed into his arm.] “R-regardless, yes. I’ve tried it before, actually, lying about hurting them to get information. It’s one of the few times someone saw through one of my lies.”

“Aww, you couldn’t even think about hurting them?” (Mirabelle giggles.) “Oh why do the bad guys have to be so crabbing cute this time!!”

“I dunno, Asterion’s kinda cute.” (Altiare smirks.) “But never mind that. The sadness, what does it mean?”

“. . . Well.” (Perci sighs.) “Everyone has an inner sadness. The worse your mental state is, the stronger it gets. At the extremes it can manifest in your mind and taunt you. But that’s only for true extremes, and from what I know, your companions shouldn’t be at that point.”

“Y-yeah, it’d, it’d be pretty obvious if they were.” (You look away.) “Very, very obvious.”

(Mirabelle gives you a kind look, then turns back to Percival.) “A-and. . . Refoulement has been acting strange as well.”

“Refoulement? Your sadness?” (The historian asks, Mira nods.) “I see, my tamed sadness has been the same.”

“You keep throwing that term around, tamed sadness, you called Mal one, even!” [You cover your mouth with a hand.] “Don’t tell me we tamed that thing like some cat.”

[Perci laughs at that.] “Hah! No, not quite. Mal du Pays, Refoulement, and my own sadness, Saudade, are all tamed in the sense that they are. . . Accepted. The only all encompassing definition I can think of is that they can wander our minds without causing pain and suffering. Tell me, does Refoulement usually whisper insecurities to you, lady Mirabelle?”

“N-no, no not really.”

“And does Mal Du Pays taunt you with your own mistakes, Siffrin? And company?”

(You huff and look away.) “N-no, usually, no.”

“And what about you, Altiare? Does it plague you wit-”

(Altiare cuts him off.) “I don’t have one.” 

(Perci blinks, then bursts into laughter.) “Yes you do.”

“And what makes you so sure.” (They squint.)

“If you hadn’t accepted your sadness, you wouldn’t know mind craft.” (Perci held up an open hand.) “That’s what I was helping Madame Odile with, anyways. I thought she would have the will to face it, I was wrong~”

“Don’t talk so casually about that!!” (Mirabelle exclaims, stepping forward.) “W-what if she got hurt!!”

“She’d die.” <He said, too matter-of-factly.> “Or she’d suffer ego death. Or, and what I was most interested in seeing, was that she would turn into a sadness.”

“You’re sick.” <You shove Siffrin and Loop out of front and hold tighter to Altiare’s hand.> “A sick, twisted, disgusting little thing who deserves every damn thing coming for him.”

“Good to see you too~” <He waves a hand, and turns.> “Now if that’s all, I must be off. Can’t keep the bonded waiting, after all~”

“By all means.” <You huff.> “Please, don’t rush yourself.”

“. . . Goodbye, Percival.” <Mirabelle mumbles.>

“Make sure to step on some cracks for me.” <Altiare makes a rude gesture.> “I heard it’s good luck.”

“Oh I’m sure.” <He takes a step away, then pauses.> “. . . . Are you going to continue using mind craft?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” <Altiare retorts.>

“. . . In that case, find some small thing to distract yourself. The mind can wander easily to others thoughts, and that helps. And develop a grounding technique, feeling lost after diving into a mind is sometimes fine, and other times beyond terrible.” <There’s a pause as he thinks.> “. . . And be careful with your hands. If you use mind craft as much as I do, they’ll soon become very, very sensitive.”

“. . . Thanks?” <The Card Counter looks between you and Mira.> “Why are you telling me this?”

“We may be enemies, Altiare.” <He glances back.> “But that is no excuse not to be kind.”

[arliganzey]

repcomm ama hell yes! (1) favorite trait you like about zey (2) favorite scene in the books you don't think is mentioned enough (3) controversial opinion you've been dying to spill if u wanna, if you don't, a nsfw headcanon you've always had instead :P (or both!)

Krad thank you for the ask!!

My favorite Arligan Zey trait: I can't pick just one so I'm going to ramble. There is a line that says 'there was a sigh in his voice' and I just feel that in my soul. He's so tired and angry after Triple Zero and he completely loses his shit after Bardan leaves the Order. This scene makes me cackle:

ZEY SAID OSIK 🫵

and then maybe more importantly, he tears up and cries when he meets Venku. Like okay? So he's a giant softie apparently? That's fine, I can be normal about this

2. There are so many good scenes in this series it's hard to pick just one, but the first scene that came to me is really early on in Hard Contact when Omega Squad meets for the first time and gets their Qiilura mission from Zey and Bardan. Darman is a boy scout and asks a question (because he is a true pleasure to have in class), which impresses Zey. Padawan Bardan is sitting on a crate and it doesn't say he's kicking his feet but we all know he's kicking his feet. Then in the middle of it the Gurlanin shapeshifter starts shapeshifting and Zey completely loses his train of thought. It's kind of a goofy/awkward scene and I love it.

3. 🙈 all right I have a hot take. I reread the scene where Etain tells Kal she's pregnant, and while yes he's an asshole about it, my biggest takeaway as a new parent was: holy SHIT this 60 year old out of practice Mandalorian man just voluntold himself to take care of a NEWBORN and RAISE A BABY. He had three kids and raised the Nulls from very small children, he knows what he's getting into. (Okay arguably as the 'absent father' he may not know what newborn care is like but Mandalorians take childcare very seriously so I'm going to say he has some experience). Fandom/haters really shit on this scene, and yes it's super uncomfortable, yes Kal makes threats (which he specifically regrets later), but what other choice does he have? Etain's not going to leave her post and she's going to have a baby with NO PLAN FOR CHILDCARE.

Which, btw, in the real world is one of my number one sources of anxiety when I hear expecting parents have no plan for childcare lmao

Republic commando AMA all day every day~ NSFW quick headcanons below:

3.5 NSFW HEADCANON(S): Etain is a dom and Dar loves it. Zey is an exclusive top until Vau when he discovers he's actually a sub/switch (dragging my rarepair into the mix here). Throwing a bone to the Maze/Zey ships out there: Zey bottoms for Maze but they switch sometimes OKAY DONE

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Dearest Rollo, if you meet the Righteous Judge himself in person, what would you do?

DISCLAIMER: Whatever I write here does NOT reflect my own opinions about Frollo or any of the beliefs he held. I strongly disagree with and condemn what he stands for. In this post, I am creating through the viewpoint of a character that has a warped understanding of what Frollo was truly like, and thus I am using this perspective to inform my creative writing.

Like Fire, Hellfire.

A spark lit in Rollo's dark, gloomy eyes. His thin lips curved into a semblance of a smile--too small to be considered in full, but enough to register as different from the null expression he typically showed the world.

"My, what a thoughtful inquiry," he mused softly, uncharacteristically enthralled. "How kind of you to ask."

Rollo ran a finger across the red jewel set in his ring. Contemplative. "Were I to be graced with the presence of such a venerable man... Fufufu. I would humbly confess my admiration, confide that I strive each day to live up to his ideals. More importantly, I would like to discuss a great many things with him. Someone of his stature and moral compass would no doubt have a great deal of wisdom to share."

His eyes shone fondly with a newfound fire. Warmth crept into his voice, kindling a controlled excitement.

"I would invite him to walk alongside me in the City of Flowers," Rollo continued. "Surely he would be proud to gaze upon the place he has spent so long protecting and what it has blossomed into. The people prosperous, businesses booming, the peaceful song of the bells every morning, afternoon, and night..."

It was odd, you thought to yourself, how the same person who was once cackling about destroying all mages and pulling trap door levers was now quietly fanboying. I guess we all that capacity in us.

"We would stop at a bakery I frequent, perhaps share a light meal there. Bread, cheese, and grape juice. It would be a golden opportunity to become acquainted with him on a more personal level. Men allow for their true selves to shine over shared food. Beyond history and law, what I wish to discuss with him most of all is..."

Rollo found himself hesitating.

In his imagination, he was seated before the famed figure, prostrating himself. The Righteous Judge silently stared down at him. Watching, listening.

The busy bakery faded away to nothingness, and the table assumed the form of a confessional booth. It was him and the Righteous Judge, parishioner and pastor.

"Sir, I implore you. Please advise me. Guide me. Grant me your insight," Rollo begged. "Truthfully, I am... lost. I thought what I was doing was correct. That it was just. In his name, I dedicated myself to this cause, the crusade against dastardly mages--but I was not able to recognize those ambitions to the fullest."

Tears pricked his vision then. The stony-faced judge said nothing, did nothing.

"Now I am left with only the ashes and cinders of that broken dream, questioning what is right and what is wrong. I fear that my faith is wavering, that those vile villains have somehow tainted my soul."

His voice cracked like delicate glass.

"Your judgment is always absolute yet fair. Tell me then. What must I do to attain salvation? To soothe the fire that crawls and burns under my skin? To finally be at peace...?"

Finally, the judge's mouth moved, Rollo couldn't make out the answer. He was forbidden from that knowledge.

It was all meaningless noise. Garbage sounds. Nonsense. An answer, obscured.

Rollo closed his eyes and held his tongue. A sharp intake of breath. Then--

"... Well, you needn't know the details."

"Whaaat?!" you cried, pouting. "You're seriously going to leave me off with a cliffhanger like that? You were just getting to the juiciest part!!"

"I've already said enough. No, perhaps I've said too much."

"Keep talking!! I wanted to hear the rest of it!!"

Rollo folded his arms. "You already received quite the sufficient response. To ask more of me would be to cave to your greed. Be grateful that I was in a good enough mood to entertain the question."

[tgrailwar-zero]

Well, sounds like it's time for you to get your sea monster-slaying chops.

You told her to cut through- slash in a way that would be inescapable.

MUSASHI: "…"

She took a breath, and you saw a gleam in her eyes.

Not a human gleam. The gleam that appeared in the eyes of men reflected life and broad possibility. The gleam in the eyes of this woman reflected death, and the 'culling' of possibility in order to reach perfection. Her face, delicate and beautiful like a flower, was suddenly harsh and cold like steel, before--

You could barely track her movements. A blur, a spiral of red and blue-- no, even color couldn't keep up. There was a 'gap', a 'moment', a 'place where something happened' between when MUSASHI prepared and when she struck.

A 'void'.

MOBY DICK's hide was tough, yes. However… a sword saint did not just look at physical strength, but spiritual strength. What was the 'essence' making up this entity, and how could it be cut apart? The art of sword saints had been lost centuries ago, long forgotten-- but this was a Heroic Spirit that embodied one of those great legends!

That being said, before your mind could 'comprehend', she was off the deck and had slashed into the massive monstrosity, her blades having carved a clear line from the front of its face, through its eye, and across the right side of its body.

A scar- no, a message.

'If you live, then you will forever be known as one spared by Miyamoto Musashi.'

'If you die, then all will know that you were slain by Miyamoto Musashi.'

Those two outcomes had presumably become the only two paths for this beast, and she was determined to cut those two down to 'one'.

The kind of 'unbridled confidence' that came with such a dangerous Heroic Spirit.

-

JAGUAR MAN: "It looks like the Null Zero Samurai has landed a critical hit! Only a few warriors manage to spook Moby Dick like that! As expected from our cold-hearted warrior!"

DURYODHANA: "That swordsmanship, dealing that kind of damage to a monster like Moby Dick... you know, even yours truly is finding himself impressed. They've already passed the 10 seconds that usually takes out lesser fighters." -

You whipped your head to the top of the whale's head, where the swordmaster sat crosslegged with a smile as the whale thrashed. She had an expression as if she held the wisdom of a sage, the childish MUSASHI of before long gone.

MUSASHI: "In the Void is virtue, and no--"

The whale suddenly began diving, taking the samurai with it.

MUSASHI: "Hyaaaaah--!! My dramatic moment--!!!"

Ah. There's MUSASHI. Welcome back.

Sploosh.

She was rapidly disappearing beneath the water. The whale itself was so large that by the time she was fully submerged and decently deep, only about one-third of it was under the water.

ADMIRAL: "Fire, fire, fire! Before it goes under! The Samurai gave us an opening, so we're taking it!"

The barrage gave it no room to effectively counterattack. For an opening move- delivering a 'stun' dual attack was quite impressive.

The ADMIRAL yelled, as several cannonballs were fired. They battered into the side of the large beast as it let out a low, long, beleaguered groan and tottered a bit as it sunk, clearly injured by the dual-attack.

The coin she held aloft began to glow.

ADMIRAL: "Oh…! The 'Lucky Shot' is getting stronger! This coin… this holds the essence of an 'Endowed Hero'. It glows when fortune begins to flow my way. A guiding star- no, a 'treasure map'! That strike from the Samurai brought us one step closer to riches, my friends!"

She let it dance between her fingers, deftly moving between her digits as she grinned, wide and wickedly

An 'Endowed Hero'… a hero that 'amassed blessings and fortunes'…

That sounded... familiar.

She cackled, raising the coin high.

ADMIRAL: "The coin amasses 'fortune', I spend 'fortune'. 'Ebb and flow', the Priestess said to me. If I held onto it and didn't do a damn thing with it, I could be the wealthiest, strongest woman in the Solar Cell! Of course, she knows me too well, so she knows I'll spend it! Money is Power, as they say! Ahahaha!"

Your Servant continued to sink with the whale, her swords jammed into the beast to use as handholds. There was one benefit to being a Servant, which is that 'drowning' wasn't a worry unless she was subjected to something that could specifically drown spirits, so--

MUSASHI: "…mm?"

She blinked, with the realization that she was actively holding her breath- a human instinct that would normally have been overwritten by the Servant instinct of 'breathing should be fine'. Which meant…

...This was one of those places that was designed to be able to 'drown' Servants?

Oh no--

MUSASHI: "...!"

Wait, she could breathe? Even with that 'trait' on the water?

From somewhere distant, you could practically feel a certain Rose Emperor puffing her chest out and proudly pointing at the television.

ADMIRAL: "Huh, looks like she's got a pretty nifty Mystic Code on. Guess Jawsica won't have to fish her out after all. Let's keep fighting, everyone!"

See this post to choose SABER's actions!

There are some moves that count as 'critical' moves in this scenario- picking those options will increase the potency of the ADMIRAL's 'Lucky Shot'!

'Critical' moves are guaranteed when spending mana, but it comes down to 'luck' when using regular moves!

SHIP STATS

The ship took some damage from the wave that was reduced by SABER!

SHIP'S HULL: [ X / X / X / X / X / X / X / X / X / X / ]

MAGICAL ENERGY: [ X ] [ X ] [ X ] [ X ] [ X ]

'LUCKY SHOT': [ X ] (Power: Stage 2)

[moonglide]

echoes of wisdom hours 12 & 13

-spoilers for end of the hyrule castle quest and for the goron quest, up until the dungeon.

-i fought ganon. i died to magic tennis. again. that's 9.

-realized that to survive magic tennis, i needed to go far away from ganon to have enough reaction time.

-i beat ganon! echo ganon, i guess.

-tri, you say that our opponent must have the echo power? gosh! who'd've thunk it? t'weren't like i suggested that or something.

-as we ascend to leave the wall BREAKS. i was scared. i did not want another boss fight.

-link comes out to save us with a baseball bat????

-oh he gets crystalled. nooooo

-the shadowy figure with claws is kinda creepy. it's probably that (endgame spoilers, probably) null guy people keep mentioning.

-god i love how supportive the king is. botw zelda would've killed for that kind of praise.

-love how i go back and i'm like whelp. time to sleep.

-wait can i echo my own bed??? I can!!! and it heals two hearts!!! i forgot to mention when i got the gerudo bed, but it was so useful. and now this is more useful!

-kitty!!! hello almond. how was being abducted into the shadow realm?

-throne room.

-hold up. rift in eldin volcano, sure. rift in faron wetlands, sure. rift in holy mount lanayru??? excuse me? where is that. there is only so much room on the map for a big-ass mountain.

-oh it's the region i thought was hebra. ok.

-prime energy? excuse me? just call it the triforce like a normal person.

-hi impa! what quest do you have for me?

-the pretty white horse is MY horse??? sweet! thank u impa.

-teleported to the ranch. horse is missing. can't find it. someone please tell me where the horse is. are they hiding the horse? will the ranch hands give it back if i apologize for making fun of them for their horse-finding skills?

-whatever.

-where to go first? I don't want to go to lanayru, because, you know. it's holy. it's wisdom. it's cold. it's definately meant to be last.

-i think i want to do eldin first because the gorons seem like the least serious. fun little volcano excursion instead of tangling with wood spirits in the mystical forest.

-kakariko! man is missing his cat. i get the cat outfit! it's fun.

-honestly i like the disguise more than the gear the king gave me.

-also since im in kakariko, let me talk about the slumber dojo real quick. i checked on ao3 for echoes of wisdom fics. guess what the one with the most kudos is. guess what. it's the slumber dojo guy banging zelda while she's sleeping. come on guys. i'm a lil disappointed but i'm not at all surprised.

edit: ok so it ain't anymore. but it was yesterday.

-found a fairy flower! how fun

-speaking of fairies, time to become more s t y l i s h

-damn you expect me to expand my accessory limit? in this economy? inflation is crazy. she jacked up her price by 3x. i still did it tho.

-business shrub! i made like ten smoothies.

-i finally made an unappealing one. it's two rocks. i understand that. but why does two sticks of butter make a radiant smoothie? that's not radiant. that's just gross.

-completed a small rift before i got to goron city. was i supposed to? idk. it never came up.

-oh dalton (or whatever his name is) is sweet. bro needs a confidance boost.

-went to the rock roast first. it was quick.

-lizalfos second. can't believe dalton's a nerd. i love it

-i was gonna use the echo that pushes out in all directions, but instead i sent out a redead and a tornando. it worked.

-sorry for destroying your dead dad's portrait. my b.

-ohhh i fly by grabbing the bird. that makes sense. i thought riding echoes would be something i needed to unlock.

-dalton how did you get here. you can't fly. i don't understand.

-bro is like 'according to my calculations' but my dude. you are just punching a rock. it is not that complicated.

-for a second i thought nugget of wisdom 52 was just 'HYAHHHHH!' and i cackled because that's just so goron. but apparently the shout was just a little interuption before the actual nugget. sad.

-tri wdym the limit is two. where did that come from.

-also i totally died again at one point. i don't remember what it was, but i remember i died. so that's 10.

-fave echo: ignacio or albatrawl.

-death count: 10.

[dravidssideblog]

Rubber Imp's Null Swamp (1100 words)

You step onto the black rubber swamp. It bends under you like a water bed, but the surface tension holds you up for now. Step after wobbling step, you approach the center of the pool. There, the rubber starts to bulge upward, stretching until it breaks, revealing an imp with a dark, dark red body. It holds itself up with its arms, its body is mostly under the surface.

"Well hello there~ It's been a while since the last visitor." It smiles are you continue your approach, stopping when your foot suddenly sinks beneath the surface. The cool rubber holds your foot tight. "So glad you found your way here! Let me give you a proper welcome to my swamp~" The imp snaps its fingers, and you immediately sink down to your knees. The rubber eats away at your pants; it doesn't take long before there's nothing between your body and the thick black goo.

The sinking doesn't stop at your knees, and the imp watches with a grin as you slowly fall deeper, down to your thighs, then deeper still, until your crotch hovers above the surface. The rubber surges upward, latching onto your crotch and melting your underwear to nothing, pressing into your bare flesh. A tingling sensation takes over your groin. When the rubber recedes, a thick bulge is left between your legs, emblazoned with a grinning red demon face.

"Enjoying how it looks? Why don't I show you how it feels~?" The imp beckons you with a finger, and the rubber holding you flows towards it. The imp grips a hand on your groin to give the fat bulge a squeeze, and you can't help but gasp at the sensation. The imp cackles, groping and massaging your new bulge, making a game out of how many noises it can get you to make.

"Ooooh yeah, nothin' quite like a freshly-nulged plaything. They never know how to handle the way it feels~" Finally, it lets go, leaving your nulge quivering and desperate. "Here, I'll help you get used to it~" Another snap, and tendrils of rubber sprout from the surface. They grab your body, and you can feel more grabbing your legs, before they yank you down to your waist down into the blackness.

The tentacles squirm and slide over your body, grabbing and squeezing and slithering, all over your feet, your legs, and your poor, tender nulge. The relentless assault floods you with pleasure and makes you writhe, the imp watching, panting, grinning, able to feel everything the tentacles touch.

Mid-moan, the imp grabs your head and pulls you down into a kiss. Its rubber lips part and its smooth tongue forces into your mouth, dripping gooey spit, all without pause to the molestation of your nulge. Your mouth is coated with the taste of the imp's rubber by the time it finally pulls away, still panting, still grinning, still tormenting you with tentacles that squeeze and slide all over your bare body.

Finally, the tentacles slow down, and you catch your breath and recover. The imp presses its hands on the rubber, pushing itself up, stepping out to stand on the surface. Between its legs is a nulge just like yours; pure black like the swamp's rubber, emblazoned with the same grinning face, and just as big despite the size difference between you. With your body half-sunken, your face is perfectly aligned with the imp's crotch.

It puts a hand behind your head, and shoves you forward.

The bulge squishes as your face sinks presses into it, and the imp finally lets out a proper moan of pleasure. It humps and grinds and rubs, dragging the fat lump all over you, its hand keeping you nice and intimate with it. As the imp's excitement grows, the tentacles gradually get back up to speed, touching and teasing your own nulge. One tentacle giving it a good squish gets you moaning again, right into the imp's crotch.

Left and right, up and down, the imp grinds its nulge against you, squishing it into every inch of your face, moaning and panting at the pleasure it gets from you. It humps and thrusts, shoving you deep into it, blinding you except for the bright red of that grinning image. Another big thrust comes, right as a tentacle forces another moan out of you. The mutual bliss is overwhelming, and time fades away as your mind is swept up in a sensory storm, loving every helpless, ruthless moment...

-

When your awareness returns, you're neck-deep in the swamp, lips locked with the imp's once more. The tentacles are wrapped snugly around your whole body, and the imp's arms hold the tentacle-cocoon in a hug.

The imp pulls away with a lick up your face, smearing gooey black saliva over your cheek. "Hope you've enjoyed your time on the surface. You won't be seeing it again until I'm done with you~"

With that, the tentacles slowly start to drag you deeper, the imp sinking alongside you. Your neck, your mouth, your nose are swallowed by the rubber, and when you breathe, goo fills your body, flowing through your lungs in place of air. The imp's eyes meet yours in the moments before blindness, its expression never straying from that wicked grin.

Your eyes are swallowed, and your head sinks beneath the surface.

The tentacles drift away now, leaving you to float in the cool rubber goo. Its heavy, the pressure hugging your body, the weight making it hard to move.

Something touches you. "Not panicking, good," the imp's voice says, distorted yet loud, vibrating through the rubber. "We're gonna have a good time together~" It pulls you closer, effortlessly dragging you through the viscous goo, until your nulge meets its.

The imp's arms wrap around your waist, holding you in place for it to hump you thoroughly. Your nulges squish together with an intense surge of pleasure, and you moan into the swamp. Other moans echo from deep below; you'd never know from the surface, but you're far from the only one here. Another hump pushes away that thought, the imp's reverberating moans drowning all else out.

"So new plaything, haaahh," the imp says between moans, "what's it gonna be?.. A night of nonstop fun... Or something a bit more... long term?.. Don't stress too much about it, because, nng..." The imp locks its legs around your hips and hugs you tight, squashing your nulges together flat! "By the time I'm done with you, you won't even remember what year it is~"

[pigswithwings]

Is the blue liquid in Null's head(?) water, 8ball liquid, or something else

water!! but i did cackle reading 8 ball liquid. it was originally planned for null's head to be an aquarium (to induce a calming effect on clients or patients that null would've worked with had she gone into a medical field as intended), but in canon this was ruled out because putting live fish in there would be cruel.

[malia-the-keeper]

Wow, helpful :(

Malia cackles at the anons response before composing herself

“Alright, I’ve had my fun. For a fair number of us, just look for a random [Null]. Others will be oftentimes patrolling so you may catch them then.”