#(also shining should be larger. he should be fat or have muscle. whys he a twig here)

[vaugarde]

i listened to an mlp eqg song that came up on youtube playlists and that got me watching eqg clips after a few years and good god i forgot how bad some of the human designs were

specifically the alicorns or bigger ponies like shining armor. what happened to you

[monstersandmaw]

Male orc (Vilugh) x male reader (sfw) - Part Two

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

This should have gone up on here yesterday, and has been available on my $5 Patreon tier for a week as the fourth ‘early release’ story on Patreon in July (every Wednesday).

You may recall the first chapter that I posted as an unedited WIP (Tumblr link) a while ago and had lots of encouraging comments about and some interest in seeing more from Vilugh and the prince. So, here it is! Sorry it's a bit late - things have just been nuts here lately. I wanted this to be the final chapter, but... plot happened. So... there'll be more in the future!

Content: continuing on from last time where our scholarly prince with the unfathomably dickish king for a father was told he was going to spend six months with the orcs, we see Vilugh again, meet his sister, and finally, get to the encampment. (tw: brief mention of past death of reader’s older brother, and constantly being compared to him by the aforementioned dickish king...)

Wordcount: exactly 4000. *nice*

Part One

To say that I was furious with my father for only deigning to inform me of my new situation for the next six months would have been an understatement. I knew I wasn’t the ruler-son that he’d envisaged taking over from him, but I had thought that my rather impressive record for strategy and tactics spoke for itself, not to mention that I was responsible for almost single-handedly planning and instigating massive economic reforms that not only refilled the monarchy’s gradually-dwindling coffers but promoted trade and gave our floundering, stagnating economy a huge boot up the backside. And yet, still, I was not enough. I was not my brother.

Fuming, I strode along the corridors from the great hall up to my chambers and nearly flattened a poor serving girl as she left one of the rooms along the way. “I’m sorry,” I said through clenched teeth.

“Highness,” she chirped, dipping into a curtsy and scurrying away before I could explain myself.

My reputation had gone from ‘scholar prince’ to ‘Royal Monk’ by the time I was twenty five, but I was also known for being moody and sullen, with a perpetual scowl on my lean - I thought gaunt - face. No wonder I’d frightened her. As I stared in the speckled mirror in my bedroom, I saw a face and body that would hardly impress the orcs to whom I was about to be packed off like a spare bit of cargo for six months. Why? What what did my father have to gain from sending me to a group of people who, until my teenage years, had been our enemies? They weren’t exactly our best friends now either.

The orcs right across the continent had begun to think about trade with us since Khraxh and her warband had first agreed to peace talks, and while the mountain orcs were still ferociously opposed to any kind of truce or trade talks with the soft, plains- and forest-dwelling humans, Khraxh had clearly seen the advantages that at least a ‘polite understanding’ would have with us. We had the monopoly on iron ore with our goblin-run mines to the east, and due to our superior charcoal burning techniques, we were able to forge steel like almost no one else, save perhaps the goblins themselves.

Goblins, like humans, had a long and turbulent history with orcs. Historically, encounters between the two peoples mostly ended in absolute annihilation of entire goblin communities by the larger and stronger orcs - hence their very slight preference for dealing with humans. It really was only a slight preference, however. Goblins were wary and untrusting of most folks, but it was understandable. They were a skittish, intolerant folk, quick to be offended and even quicker to give it.

Staring into that age-freckled mirror, I saw my lacklustre, pale skin, with no distinguishing features, save perhaps for my mother’s dark eyes and a slightly hooked nose. Where Dannan had been the golden boy of our family - qujite literally with his curly blond hair - I was the proverbial and, of late, the literal, dark horse. Dark hair, dark eyes, dark expression…

Needless to say, I got little sleep that night, which added to the dark shadows beneath those dark eyes. I turned it over and over as I lay amid the fine silk sheets. In the end, I came to the rather unsettling conclusion that my father hoped I wouldn’t survive my time with the orcs so that he could install someone like my cousin Balgrun on the throne after his demise. Not that anyone imagined that a king as tenacious and bitter as my father would ever give up his hold on life; he was simply too stubborn to die, I was sure of it. True, I was useful, but I was not a leader. I honestly crumbled to a trembling, stammering, sweating mess if I had to address the public myself, and I considered more than three people to be an abhorrent crowd. He’d raised me to be the shadow to my brother’s light, and I fulfilled that role too well to be trained to shine in public now.

Gritting my teeth the next morning, I stood on the sweeping steps of the royal castle, awaiting the arrival of the orcs.

The squeal of a war boar from the far side of the castle’s curtain wall announced their presence before the trumpets and shouts did. I drew a deep breath and kept my skinny hands folded behind my back. No need to let them see me shaking. The king emerged from the doors behind me and fixed me with his usual, emotionless glower. “Don’t embarrass me, son,” he muttered under his breath. “They do us great honour by taking you to the heart of their lands for so long a time.”

I raised my eyebrow. My mother had been able to do that, according to Rigmore. The castle steward and she had apparently been good friends, and when I had learned to do it, he had laughed and said I was the picture of my mother. Naturally, I did it around my father whenever I could just to rile him up. “Tell me, father,” I said with carefully controlled coolness in my voice. “What exactly do you hope to achieve out of my royal stay with — what was it you called them yesterday? — oh yes… ‘those beasts’.”

His lip curled and his eye twitched. “You will do well not to repeat that, boy,” he snarled.

I laughed and shook my head. “Out of the two of us, I seem to be the only one who values my hide, father. Fear not though, I have no intention of pissing off my captors.”

“Captors? Guardians, more like. The honour of hosting the son of the most powerful king on this continent will not be lost on them,” he said fervently, grey eyes drifting to the portcullis and main entrance to the bailey behind me.

“Surely you had some mission in mind for me then?”

“Win them over with that naive charm of yours,” he said dismissively, still not looking at me. “You could have charmed your way into the beds of half the nobility of this kingdom, despite your… physique… Fuck them if you have to,” he said in a hiss in my ear, “But I want them in an advantageous trade deal by the end of next spring. Butter them up, win their trust, and we’ll have the brutes in our pockets.”

“And if I don’t manage that?” I asked.

His eyes flashed. “Then you really aren’t of any use to me at all, are you?”

It wasn’t a wholly unexpected answer. The man was always the king before he was my father, but still, I barked out a loud and undignified laugh just as the orcs entered amid a clatter of cloven trotters and squealing war beasts, feeling empty and hollow. “Goddess be merciful,” I cursed. “You just want me out of the way while you wine and dine Balgrun in my absence. Oh yes,” I chuckled back at him over my shoulder, practically skipping down the stairs and strangely looking forward to my six month ‘holiday’ from the backstabbing and conniving of the castle. “I asked around; I know you’re asking my dear little cousin to stay. Perhaps you can show him the ropes in six months, and perhaps the orcs will decide I’m more useful as a toothpick than a diplomat, and you’ll have a reason to go to war with them again, wipe them off the plains, and then nothing will stand in your way between the coast and the mountains.”

And with that, I left him sputtering on the steps, his face a rather nasty puce colour. I’d figured out his alternative plan, and if he thought for a moment I was going to let him have it, he was a dotard.

“Greetings,” I said, addressing Vilugh in the common Trade Tongue. “Regrettably I have not had the chance to learn your language yet, otherwise I would have greeted you in your own tongue.”

The orc swung down from his boar and dropped the reins to the flagstone floor, ground-tying the beast the same way I might have ground-tied my mare. Starling was, to my relief, already saddled and ready for me, standing with her bridle in the hands of a groom and stamping her hoof in anticipation of an outing.

Vilugh was every bit as colossal and imposing as I remembered him from the last time I’d seen him, if not more so. I knew he had to be ten years or so older than me, and if he was thirty five, he was still in his absolute prime. His green-skinned chest was largely bare, save for the leather strap that reached diagonally from one hip to the opposite shoulder, holding up the leather hunting skirt that hugged his hips and hid very little from the imagination. He didn’t have the defined abs of the veiner fighters I’d seen who liked to show off their lean, oiled bodies for the attention of the crowd, but his middle was packed with solid fat and muscle that spoke of the strength of two or three oxen. His thighs could have crushed one of our warhorses to a bloody slurry if he’d fancied trying, and his hands were as big as the buckler shields favoured by fancy duellers in the city. Small for a shield, but very big for a hand.

His eyes were still that unnerving black that I recalled from my youth, and they were every bit as perceptive as I remembered too. He raked his gaze up my slim form, no doubt also cataloguing my physical features and sartorial preferences. That day I had chosen simple buckskin leggings, suitable for long distance riding, and a loose, linen shirt. My hair was tied back in a practical style at the nape of my neck, and across the front of my saddle, I had instructed my servant to tie a leather hunter’s jerkin for when evening drew in and it inevitably got much colder. In my saddlebags I had had simple, comfortable clothing packed, with none of the fripperies and fineries with which a prince might be expected to travel. Orcs were a pragmatic and practical people, and having a whiny prince demanding to stop for wine and grapes halfway there would win me no favours with them.

“We can teach you to speak orcish if you want,” Vilugh said in a voice like a rock slide.

I couldn't help but grin at the chance to learn something else, and nodded. “Thank you. I’d like that. I can’t promise to be any good, but I’ll try.”

To my surprise, Vilugh laughed. “From what I hear, you’re a quick learner, prince. You’ll catch on quick enough I reckon.”

Relief washed through me. The warrior was polite and had a sense of humour. As much as my father’s court frustrated me, I knew where to tread there, and how far I could push and poke before I risked too much. With the orcs, I had no idea yet what might provoke them or amuse them. I also had no idea how they felt about this arrangement, or how my presence among them would be received.

“If you’d like to rest or feed your mounts, and seek the same for yourself, then please make yourselves comfortable, otherwise I’m ready to leave whenever you are.” I left it up to him to decide, and after a quick look at my father, still standing on the castle steps like a lone lion on a rock while hyenas prowled below, Vilugh shot me a look of a different calibre.

“These boar can ride all day without stopping for food or water; three days without rest,” he said in a measured voice, walking at my side and casting my entire body into shadow with his immense height and breadth.

He was testing me, and I didn’t fall for it. “And yet the ride from your mother’s bastion is four days from here,” I replied with the same even tone.

Vilugh’s eyes glittered with amusement. “The piss you people drink for ale should be enough for now.”

It was easy enough for me to take a chance on his sense of humour with my father’s bowmen lining the walls and the honour guard ranged up the stairs nearby. “For you or for the boars?” I quipped, turning away and inviting him to follow me.

Again, the massive - and honestly quite intimidating - orc let out a long, loud belly-laugh of amusement. “Hay will do for the boars just now, though they prefer meat when they can get it.”

“I’ll bear that in mind,” I muttered.

The boars were seen to, and I led Vilugh and the two other orcs who had accompanied him up to meet my father. Neither Vilugh nor his fellow warriors bowed or bent the knee to my father I was pleased to note, and it got my father’s hackles up like a like a bristling tomcat. I almost could have kissed the enormous warrior just for putting my father on the back foot already, but honestly, what did he expect? Did he think the orcs would prostrate themselves before him? They’d hardly done that last time, so I couldn’t imagine he’d be so conceited as to think they’d do it this time.

“Your majesty,” Vilugh said.

“Welcome,” my father said, his tone more tightly-clipped than the box hedge in the castle’s knot garden. “Will you be staying for some refreshments before you return to your people with my son?”

“Just long enough to give the boars a breather,” Vilugh said with easy diplomacy.

The other warriors he’d brought with him were the older, one-armed orc I’d skittered away from as a child, and a female I didn’t recognise but who had the most incredible, blue eyes I’d ever seen. Vilugh must have caught me admiring her in the great hall because he leaned in close and growled without real sting, “Stare too long at my sister and she’ll most likely cut out your eyes, princeling.”

“I was just admiring hers,” I yipped quickly, regretting the rather boyish note to my usually hoarse tenor. “Blue eyes are not so common in these parts, that’s all. I meant no offence by it.”

Seated beside him at the table, she leaned close to her brother and barked something in orcish at him. He looked briefly back at me, and then responded in the same. They conversed for a moment and I sat there with my spine dead-straight and my jaw clenched. When Vilugh turned back to me, he grinned. “Rhana says that if the pretty human princeling wants to stare at her, he can, but he’ll have to answer to her wife when we get back.”

“Far be it from me to come between an orc and her wife,” I chuckled anxiously.

When Vilugh translated, they both laughed and Rhana reached behind her brother and cuffed me on the shoulder hard enough that I was almost sent reeling off my seat and onto the floor, which got another laugh out of them and drew a glare of daggers from my unnerved father. Good. Let him be baffled that I was already getting along with these warriors like soldiers in the barracks. He’d clearly not expected me to have any idea how to behave around them, but while I didn’t spend my spare time in our own guards’ barracks, I observed the way everyone in the castle interacted with each other. It was what I’d been trained to do, after all: notice things and remember them.

All in all, the orcs didn't linger long, and we were on our way within an hour.

The pace of the first few hours of the ride alternated between a brisk walk and trotting, though my mare jogged excitedly for the first hour of that until I finally convinced her that we were in it for the long haul. The grooms kept her fit and well-schooled since I couldn’t step away from the castle regularly enough to do it myself, but by the end of the day, even my indomitable Starling was beginning to flag. I patted her neck and murmured that we’d probably break camp soon, and, sure enough, we did.

Once a small fire was lit, with the dry twigs of plains brush-scrub, and carefully warded in a low pit to stop it spreading across the arid plain, I drew out my rations from my saddlebag and Vilugh shot me a look of mild surprise.

“What?” I asked, nervous that I’d committed some inadvertent transgression by digging in before they’d started eating.

After a moment, the orc heaved himself down onto the ground beside me, long, black plait thwacking against his back at the motion. Then he said almost conspiratorially, “You’re not what I was expecting.”

Unwrapping the bread and hard cheese from their waxed linen wrappings, I frowned. “Just what were you expecting, might I ask?”

He shrugged a massive shoulder and drew out a similarly wrapped parcel - much larger - with dried meat and a hard looking biscuit that I thought would probably crack my own teeth before it broke. “Honestly… going off the last time I saw you, and from what your father said of you in talks with my mother… I thought you’d be a fragile little bird. You’re not.” He looked at me, dark eyes glittering in the fire like polished onyx and added, “You are skinny as a bird, but you’re not weak.”

“How would you know?” I scoffed. “I could be too weak to draw my sword. It could just be strapped to my waist for show…” In fact, it was now unbuckled and lying behind me with my saddle and bags, while Starling was hobbled nearby and looking rather disdainfully at the slim grazing afforded by the scrubland where we’d paused. Finest high-summer hay, it was not.

“You move like a dancer,” he said, and I immediately choked on a breadcrumb.

He had to slap me on the back and offered me a skin of water. I washed the offending clog down and gawped at him. “What would you know about human dancers?” I asked without thinking.

“I’ve travelled to the cities on the coast,” he said. “They dance in the marketplaces on festival days.”

“Oh,” I said. And then my cheeks flushed. “I’m not… You know… those dancers are… uh… paid to do more than dance… shall we say.”

It took Vilugh a moment to catch on, but he seemed embarrassed at his mistake. “I meant no insult by it,” he said. “They’re very beautiful.”

“That they are,” I admitted. My father had tried to entice three of them into bed with me after one evening spent in the company of one of his duchesses, but when I’d shown more interest in her library than her twittering prostitutes, he’d given up. Apparently the finest courtesans in the land weren’t going to make me proper man in his eyes, so it wasn’t worth trying.

Vilugh must have seen my memories swirling across my face, because he didn’t bring it up again, and we ate in a rather awkward silence after that. The orcs drew lots for the watch, and Vilugh drew the first and insisted that as their guest, I should not be expected to deprive myself of sleep. Plus, apparently, the next day’s riding would be harder and he didn’t want me falling out of my saddle when I dozed off. Also orcs’ eyes were more like cats’ eyes in the dark, I discovered, when I looked up and saw Rhana’s glinting at me from across the fire and nearly had a heart attack. She laughed and wished me pleasant dreams.

Taking their well-meaning jibes in my stride, I nodded and bedded down in my humble bedroll. It was the type that hunters used, made of breathable buckskin and lined with fleece to keep off the chill of the plains, and although I’d only spent one or two nights in it in my life, I slept better that night than I had in years, not waking until Vilugh's surprisingly gentle touch at my shoulder stirred me not long after dawn.

Over the course of the next few days, Starling developed a comical rivalry with Rhana’s boar, the two taking every opportunity to bite or scuffle with each other, though it never seemed to get truly vicious enough for either of us to worry about, so we let it play out to our amusement. Perhaps because of that and perhaps because I just simply liked them for their gruff honesty, by the time the wooden palisade walls of the orcish war-band’s permanent stronghold drew into view on a wind-blown hilltop, I felt relatively comfortable with the three orcs who had been sent to fetch me.

The older one with one arm was called Rhakak, and was apparently Vilugh’s cousin. He was taciturn and unflinching, watchful and grim, but not aggressive towards me. I still gave him a wide berth though.

But if I’d thought Rhakak was intimidating, it was nothing to Vilugh's mother.

I remembered her from her visit to the castle, but nothing could quite have prepared me for the sheer presence the matriarch had amongst her own people. She was standing waiting for us as we rode up to the walls of the stronghold, and even though Vilugh had told me that Khraxh wouldn’t hold me to the same etiquette as she would a visiting orc, I still nearly shat my pants in fear when I got off Starling’s back and found her surveying me with a distinctly unimpressed look on her weathered, beautiful face.

She really was beautiful. Her body was honed and muscular, but her movements were sleek and efficient, and in much the way a war galley cuts through the water and bristles with power, so she moved with the dormant power of a life-long warrior. Her long, thick hair had turned grey in the intervening decade since I’d seen her, and she’d lost half a tusk too, but the way the gathered orcs arranged themselves around her reminded me of a wolf and her pack. She commanded absolute obedience in them, and unyielding loyalty. In that moment, I did feel afraid, and suddenly very much not up to the seemingly impossible task I had been set.

With a rather endearing patience, Vilugh had taught me the phrase to speak in orcish upon meeting her, and once I could finally get my tongue around the complex vocal gymnastics of the orcish language, he said I would not be flayed alive for completely embarrassing my tutor.

Thus, upon our first meeting, I nearly sprained my jaw, but I gained perhaps a modicum of respect from the veteran war chief. As the three orcs sent to the castle to fetch me had now bowed, neither did I, but I did incline my head as I spoke. There was no need to act like a prideful brat after all.

If my father was expecting me to make enemies of these people and inadvertently lure them into killing me and sparking a war, then I was bloody well going to do the opposite. I wasn’t a warrior, but I had my mind, and I was damned if I was going to fuck things up and go down in history as the skinny little prince who kicked off the orc-human conflict all over again.

Humble but not meek, studious but not annoyingly curious, polite but not obsequious, opinionated but not obnoxious… I began to feel my way through the stronghold’s hierarchy, and miraculously survived my first week there without insulting anyone.

One week down, twenty three more to go…

___

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[pangtasias-atelier]

The Goddess's Judgement Part 1

Randomly remembered this idea that I wrote of around 5 years ago before deleting it off the face of the internet so I wanted to at least write something about it. Beginning feels like a crack fic but attempted seriously lol. But I mean, this would never happen considering the characters but it's for the idea even if it's just a simple, "everyone's fat" idea. I just always feel that there has to be at least a somewhat plausible reason, even if that reason is silly or would never happen.

________________

"I shall pass down my judgement to save them from themselves," eyes baring no emotion, Ashera readies her magic the tower beginning to shine.

"Wait!" A voice yells in Ashera's head, her other half Yune. "We were awoken by the Galdr of Release,"

"And what of it, the Beorc and the Laguz waged war upon each other,"

"Lehran caused this war," Ashera's face not emoting, she looks down at the kneeling Lehran.

"Is what Yune says true?"

"Yes, my goddess. Th-"

"Enough," Ashera interrupts, her magic currently halted.

"Beorc and Laguz failed us, Ashera. That much is true. But did they really have a chance against Lehran? We must take pity on them," Yune urges.

"If they had fallen prey to their own idiocy, then I would have started anew. But if Lehran kindled the flames of war, then the blame rests not solely on them. They shall receive yet another chance,"

"Then-"

"But, they still need changes. Both the Beorc and the Laguz are far too disobedient. For there to be order, they must be more docile. I conclude this judgement without your analysis, Lehran,"

"Forgive me my goddess," Lehran remains motionlessly kneeling.

"If you wish to save them from my original judgement, Yune, then you will enter the Tower of Guidance within a day. This shall require the both of us,"

"Of course," Rushing forward in her corporeal form, Yune wastes no time in arriving at the Tower of Guidance. Lehran keeps his face pointed at the ground even once Yune arrives, his plan a failure.

"Follow my lead, Yune. With our judgement, we shall save them from themselves,"

"What is the judgement, Ashera?"

"If they lust over battle and warfare, we shall change them. With this judgement, they will be too fat to worry about such things," No room for argument, Ashera begins chanting. Yune soon follows her lead, not willing to lose the only chance she has at saving the Beorc and Laguz.

"If I may speak my godesses," Lehran interjects. "There is a concerning issue pertaining to the Begnion Senate that should not go unpunished,"

"You may have lied to me, but your opinion is important, Lehran. If you believe these members to be vile, then I shall investigate," Finished speaking, Ashera and Yune prepare.

The battle still raging, no one knows the incoming change to their life. A couple moments after, a sense of unease spreads throughout the army; multiple soldiers, Beorc and Laguz alike, begin to lower their weapons and revert respectively.

The entire battle halted, everyone stands awkwardly, unsure of what to do. Looking around, their senses indicating to look at the sky, a bright flash suddenly appears; the beam explodes on the ground, enveloping the entire battle and spreading past it.

The explosion and light fading away, the confusion continues, nothing happening. The fighting remains on hold, no one raising a weapon.

A dropped lance is the first sign, the Daein soldier placing a hand on his stomach. A bulging stomach pops out his armor, the straps ripping off as he tosses a shield to the floor. Thighs widening, the moderately loose pants tighten, the white fabric clinging as each thigh grow. Stance widening, he no longer resembles that of a soldier. Now much wider, the simple act of standing is more strenuous than before. Huffing, he freaks out.

"The laguz! They-" Pointing a finger at his enemies, the Daein soldiers panic. Their panic subside upon the Laguz's growth, the Daein soldier no longer the only one.

The pointed at cat Laguz is the second to grow. Lithe, skinny body typical of them replaces itself with a larger one. His lack of armor serves as a boon, the loose clothing able to support his growing form. The wide pants don't hide his growing rear, his ass burgeoning as weight piles onto it. Thighs squishing together, the pants withstand his new weight. While his upper form receives less padding, the strap across his waist rips immediately, his bulging stomach pushing against his shirt. Tired, he sits down on the floor, his body grateful for the rest.

No longer a clear culprit, the armies panic again. The panic continues to fester as more of the soldiers follow the example of the two original victims. Growing out, the sound of weapons dropping, grunts, and clothes ripping fill the area instead of fighting. A variety of sizes, no one escapes their judgement. The smallest after the growth all have decent sized guts, exercising back to their normal weight requiring far more than a year's time. And they are the smallest, some men even nearing immobility as they rest and pant on the floor, their clothes torn to shreds. With drastic differences in size, that is not the only thing different, some having varied distribution of their newly added fat. Some having asses meant to destroy chairs and even tables while others grew a hill for a stomach.

On average, the Laguz were slightly larger, more fat needed to impede their great strength. The tiger Laguz are the largest, having the highest percentage of near immobile cases. The cats and hawks are smaller in return, their typical nimbleness removed with such puffed out forms.

The Beorc have a wider variety, an even amount of people being on the smaller scale -well what is considered smaller now- and people near immobile.

Everyone's weapons now thrown aside, the majority of them rest, the smaller ones walking around. Soon, the cacophonous sound of people's stomachs rumbling fills the air. Differences aside, Beorc and Laguz help each other up, everyone waddling back to their camps to eat.

Watching it all a top a hill is Skrimir. Eyes furrowed, he growls as he sees his fellow Laguz quit fighting. Unaffected, he doesn't move, unsure of what to do. Heavy footsteps heading his way, Skrimir sniffs the air. Smelling Beorc, he turns around.

Pelleas's now extremely heavy form walks up the hill. Sweat perspiring on his forehead, Pelleas sighs as he collects his breath. Within the immediate area, Pelleas had also grown. Out of the Beorc, Pelleas was the largest one present, his stomach cascading down to his knees. A bulbous face overtaken by bulging cheeks. His clothes torn, he uses his cloak to cover his front, a blush perpetually on his face as he swings one meaty thigh past another, his sagging stomach and moobs swaying with each step.

"I've come to offer a treaty," Pelleas huffs, placing a meaty hand on his stomach as he catches his breath.

"Why now?" Skrimir barks. Why can't Ranulf be here he thinks. Trying to be peaceful is still too new to him.

"The Begnion Senate held leverage over Daein; we were unable to defy their orders. But now, the curse controlling us is gone," Tiredly lifting his fat arm to show it, the blood curse no longer appears. "Daein has no wish to continue fighting the Laguz Alliance,"

Skrimir glares at Pelleas. Finding nothing but nervousness from the king, he sighs. "Then I'll speak to the king for a treaty,"

"Thank you! I'm sure-" Pelleas quiets as he hears Skrimir's stomach let out a concerning growl.

The effect now reaching Skrimir, he balloons out as well. Skrimir's clothes tear instantly, his body far too big for them. Groaning, Skrimir pushes his stomach back in as he growth further. Guessing incorrectly, his ass shoots out behind him, his loose kilt ripping. Legs growing further apart, one extra growth spurt is enough to send Skrimir to the floor. His immense fat jiggling, Skrimir breathes heavily as he continues growing further. The snow offers a decent padding as he widens and fills out, thighs becoming increasingly larger as his stomach envelops them. No one growing past immobility proves wrong as Skrimir's growth ends. His Herculean muscle now hidden, even that isn't enough to lift himself up. Huffing and gasping, Skrimir puts a hand on the ground. He can't even get slightly off the ground, his weight too cumbersome.

"Help me!" Skrimir struggles, his fat shaking all over.

Obeying, Pelleas hesitates for a moment, wondering where to grab. He grabs Skrimir's mitt sized hand, each sausage finger stuck together. Giving a pull offers no help, Skrimir stuck on the floor. Letting go, Pelleas tumbles to the floor as well. Smaller than Skrimir, and less gifted in his rear, the snow is a very welcome padding as he lands. Struggling, Pelleas gets back up, the cold irrelevant as he sweats from the exertion.

"Get help," Skrimir gasps for air; his stomach growls soon after. "Get food first," He corrects.

Pelleas finds himself agreeing as he rubs his growling stomach. On the way back to camp, Pelleas announces the treaty and end of Daein's participation in the war. Multiple cheers resound, several people offering Pelleas food, most of it now gone. He happily accepts it all, grabbing it for himself and for Skrimir.

Those not on the battlefield find themselves in the same predicament.

Tibarn incessantly flaps his wings, his bulk far too heavy to be lifted off the ground. His jacket meant to show his rippling abs and huge pecs, the clothing no longer exists, torn to shreds by Tibarn's gargantuan stomach, the mound pinning Tibarn's legs.

"Naesala! I'll rip your wings!" He shouts as he once again unsuccessfully gets up.

"I didn't do this! If I did, do you think I'd be affected you sack of lard?" Not as large as his fellow bird king, Naesala is still massive. Most of his weight went towards his rear unlike Tibarn, and unlike Tibarn, Naesala was still mobile. Unfortunately, in his search for help, he wedged himself in the door, his ass refusing to budge.

"Say that to my face," Finally lifting himself off the ground, Tibarn grunts as he keeps flapping. A couple inches is all he can rise up, Tibarn's body crashing back down, shaking the floor.

The tremor is exactly what Naesala needs, his ass finally free upon the door cracking from the tremor. "Well, I guess I can now...." Naesala freezes at Tibarn's massive form. "Perhaps in a bit," Abandoning the immobile Tibarn who yells at Naesala, Naesala waddles his way to the kitchens. His stomach and noise guiding him correctly, he finds it heavily packed. Other Laguz already inside, none of the them pay him any attention as he grabs food, all moving to the side upon seeing Naesala's larger form. All seemingly having forgotten Naesala's betrayal in favor of focusing on eating.

Grabbing a large platter of assorted cheeses and meats, most of the food already gone, Naesala heads back.

Upon seeing Naesala's return, Tibarn struggles again to get help, refusing help from him.

"I didn't get help, but I got something that'll help us,"

"Food is the last thin-" Tibarn muffles as Naesala shoves the food into his mouth. Pathetically flapping his wings and barely having the energy to fly onto Tibarn's stomach, Naesala sweats.

"It will help me to get you to shut up," Sneaking portions for himself, Naesala keeps feeding Tibarn whenever he speaks.

The initial area is only the beginning, Ashera's judgement soon spreading across Tellius. The Beorc experience it first, Crimea, Daein and Begnion. Afterwards, the Laguz: Gallia, Phoenicis, Kilvas and eventually Goldoa and even Hatari, none escaping their judgement.

____________

Definitely will be continued, I just wanted to get this portion instead of having it all in one. Typical "world is fat au" but it's an oldie but a goodie.

[nhlhoser]

On The Rocks - 26

Part 25  Masterlist

3816 WC

Swearing and emotions

Getting out of bed was easier yet still hard with my lack of energy and still sore body.

Deciding to yield Noahs instructions to get out of the room and try to get breakfast, I head to the bathroom to shower first and wash some of this sick off my skin and get a fresh start but also tame my horribly gross hair.

Gingerly I heave myself off the bed on shaky legs and sore muscles.

My legs don't give out on me but it's a damn near thing when my bare feet are shocked by the change from carpet to cold tile. My movements are stiff as I maneuver around the bathroom, arranging the towels to be easy to grab when I come out and one on the floor so I don't create a puddle.

Stepping into the shower the hot water is almost too hot but feels amazing on my skin and my tight muscles. Stretching my arms above my head a series of pops rattle down my spine and through my shoulders, releasing tension as the hot water works on melting the rest.

Working on my hair is rough with my lack of mobility but I eventually am able to free the knots from my gross hair with the products I recognize from the shower I had at Austons over the weekend. He must have snuck them in here before he accidentally woke me up.

Standing under the water for a couple moments longer, I don't want to get out yet because as much as I want to believe that I am relaxed right now, I know I am not as the weight of the water hitting my shoulders, chest, and face is heavier than it is in reality.

My ever-present anxiety is growing larger than it's been in a long time as I usually have a better handle on it but the energy I am executing just by being sick- makes it impossible to ignore the nagging pain in my chest that could only be explained by my anxiety and illness.

My energy level makes me just want to lay in bed for the rest of the forsee-able future and avoid life all together but I can' exactly do that right now being that : I am not even in my own country, I'm ill and have to leave my room for it to be cleaned but also I have to get on another plane in the next day or two too go home and maybe then I will be able to wallow in my own self-pity and get my emotion in order.

I have to get myself under control before I lose it again but HOW? I could call my brother or maybe my dad but that would stir even more stress and drama as my dad would hope on the next flight and throttle the entire Leafs management staff and probably anyone that may try and stop him.

Even then I don't usually involve anyone in my own problems I kinda just deal with them or accept that they are there but right now it's too prominent to ignore. Maybe, I should involve someone that is already aware of some of what is going on?

Noah? He'll probably think of the medical aspect rather than the emotional side and may not understand.

Any of the guys are just out of question because of playoffs and thats just a lot on their plate already plus they barely know me.

You've started to let Auston in already.......

A small voice whispers temptingly more aware than I am.

But he has hockey to worry about I reason with my own inner thought.

yes, but he there's already something he wants to say, we don't have to really say much. What he wants to talk about could ease us enough to get us back to Toronto. If not we have Ricky who we could rant to because he cares you know. We need to let someone in before we break.

Whatever part of my brain this is, it is really sad.

I'm your heart, you need to listen to me more.

Maybe.

Shutting off the water I stand in the tub a moment longer staring at my hands still holding onto the tap. Purple and yellow bruising from boxing the day before last and the scars from the years gone by resembling how my heart might look if ripped from my chest- something I'm scared someone might just actually do if I let them in.

Stepping out it's much easier to move and faster thankfully because the air is cold against my damp skin as I wrap a towel around my middle and twist my hair into another. Catching myself in the mirror I definitely look as sick as I feel, my complexion pale but my cheeks flushed slightly pink from the fever and my eyes slightly sunken with dark bags beneath them.

Sliding into a pair of my new leggings and Austons shirt, I lay on the bed staring at the ceiling again, my energy almost spent just from the shower. My mind still overworked by the panic attack earlier with Noah, the urge to scream wrapped around my neck like a cord again but this time producing fat tears and a gasp for breath that pulled on my sore diaphragm as more tears leak from eyes and down to my ears. (A/N: if you've ever cried well laying on your back this is a chilling experience)

The memory is nothing new but it hasn't been brought up in a long time and it still scares me just as much the first time when I thought it was just some nightmare my brain had conjured up due to trauma but when I told my dad about it he sorrowfully correct that even though I don't even to this day understand it completely it was something that did happen.

The memory is the last of my mother but also it was the last of a couple month period after my 16th birthday due to an injury that I have no memory or details of. With the help of the little family I had around me and a patient-therapist I was about to mend a life for myself

A swift knock on the door startles me from my trance and back into reality, still staring at the ceiling now dry-eyed.

"Who is it?" My voice sounded hoarse with the edge of being broken on the inside.

"Auston," came barely audible through the door. "Can I come in?" followed only this time a little bit louder..

"Do you still have a key?" I move to be sitting on the edge of the bed, my face in my faces as I work on wiping away the tears with my palms.

"Uhm..Yeah?" He sounded almost sheepish

"Come in," My voice still hoarse and ragged. My heart rate spikes as the sound of Auston unlocking the door registered in my brain that someone is going to see me like this.

In a last stitch effort for whatever composure I can must I run my hands through my damp hair, dragging the strands from my face with a deep breath as the door opens revealing Auston- a loaded shopping bag in hand.

"Gatorade and- you're up?" Auston's step stuttered a little bit as his eyes landed on my freshly showered hair instead of the mess he last saw.

"Up is a bit of an over-exaggeration," I mumbled laying back down in a huff, watching Auston continue into the room a small frown on his lips.

"How are you? Now?" Setting the bag on the floor Auston sits and lays on the bed parallel to me and turns his head to face me.

"Honestly?" My voice cracks under the emotion I've pent up as I turn my face to look him the eye, they're soft and full of concern.

"Fucking shit," a sarcastic laugh follows my brief confession with a small tear falling down my cheek before I could wipe it away Auston's rough thumb swipes it away for me and continues to my right cheek with his left hand tenderly.

The sheer tenderness of the moment and the level of vulnerability oozing from both of us causes a rough sob to wrack through my chest, my eyes squeezing closed in an attempt to hold back the floodgates a little bit longer.

This prompts something in Auston to move from just holding my face to wrapping his arms around me and pulling me into his chest, holding me with a strong yet soft force. His hand starts to work through my hair slowly in a calming manner trying to soothe me, as a painful hiccup jars my extremely sore diaphragm.

Whimpering at the pain Auston pulls me in tighter and continues to run his hands through my hair and over the pulse on my neck to cradle my head his large hand as he pulls back to examine my face. Opening my eyes I am met with his searching eyes as they scan over my face, his eyebrows draw in creating a crease to form on his forehead.

"From being sick?" Auston's tone suggested that he knew that it might be more than just the flu I've been dealing with causing my meltdown.

"No," I sniffled.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

"Not yet,"

"Okay. I'll wait," Auston pulled me in so my ear rested on his chest again.

The sound of his heartbeat lulling me back in peace and almost sleep if the fact I need to get out of the room for a bit popped back in my head and that Auston started to speak.

"I'm sorry for withdrawing before leaving.It's just the playoff's made me feel a new level of nervous that scared the absolute shit out of me. I needed to get my mind in order and that caused some casualties on the way," His voice vibrated through his chest as he laughs nervously. "You know who shined the light in my eyes?" he added.

"Mitch?"

"Well, he definitely was part of it but I was talking to mom after you left that night and I might have been ignoring her also and she was not having it and she tore me a couple news one but when she calmed down she asked me about you,"

"Me?" I pull up surprised that Ema Matthews even knew i existed. "why?"

"You made that dinner that I could heat up and have them over instead of going out - which totally shocked them- but anyways she knew it wasn't me that made the food and it couldn't have been ordered because it was made in the dishes she bought for me-"

"She also knows you can't cook for shit," I added interrupting him.

"Rude but I told her about how you had agreed to make me hot dinners and when she called to rip me a new and was civil again she asked what I had to eat and when I told her I just had dinner you made for me- she told me to thank you for her and I realized I didn't even thank you," The volume of Auston's voice drops through the story as he starts to sound awkward and sheepish.

"Then Mitch text me saying 'Fix it' with zero contexts but followed up with the information you just got home and were withdrawn," Auston kind of nervous laughing now,

"So, this is me fixing it. I really didn't mean to be a dick,"

"It's okay Auston but let's go down a get breakfast and hope Noah doesn't catch you in here and scold you because you might catch this," I reminded the boy with a fake sternness in my voice.

"You never told me to leave," Auston whispered in my hair sounding sleepy.

"I know," I signed relaxing into his arms even further as the sound of his heartbeat and soft breathing started to coax my eyes into closing. Breathing in the scent of detergent, cologne and generally, the smell didn't help either.

"Auston," I whispered earning a soft groan to rumble in his chest. "Let's goooo" I whined as I dragged my body off of his regretfully and standing in front of his legs still dangling off the bed. I press my knees to his and push with some force.

"Aus, Come one," I grab his wrists I tug and he finally opens his eyes and sits up staring up at me with a look in his eyes I can't place but it feels meaningful. Slowly he circles his arms around me again and presses the palm of his hands into my back pulling me into an embrace so his face is nestled against my collarbone and neck sort of.

My breath hitches slightly as a knot tyes in the back of my throat at the sudden rush of emotions from being held so tenderly. A small gasp escapes me as Auston's arms tighten as if he can sense the sudden rush of my emotions.

He probably heard the spike in my heart rate from where his ear is resting.

Returning the embrace my arms rest on his shoulders and my hands going into his hair as I held his head against me, resting my forehead on the top of his hair like he had done earlier.

Pulling his head back slightly my hands drifted to rest on the nape of his neck and slightly under his jaw as his eyes hold mine in what feels like a loaded moment to only have it interrupted by a knock on the door of my room.

"Who is it?" I instinctively put my hand over Auston's mouth even though he hasn't made a sound.

"It's Noah," My eyes widen slightly then glared into Austons "I didn't see downstairs and wanted to make sure you were alright,"

"I'm fine. I just got of the shower, I just need to get dressed and I'll be down," Implying that I'm naked got a rise out of Auston as his shoulders shook slightly and he raised a questioning brow at me.

"Oh-Okay see you down there then," Noah soundly sheepish as his footsteps could be heard walking away from the door and down the hall.

Pulling my hand away from Auston's grinning mouth he shakes his head at me with the same brow raised.

"You have to go down first because we can't show up at the same time," I said as I stepped back giving the still grinning Auston Room to stand to his full height.

"What?" I questioned when he just kept giving me that look as I grabbed my sweater and pulled it over Auston's long sleeve to stop the chill on my skin.

"He totally just thought of you naked," I pulled the rest of the hoodie over my head quickly as I stared at Auston wide-eyed.

"He did not," stuffing my keycard and phone in my pockets I grab a Gatorade and wait for Auston at the door. "Come on breakfast," I signaled Auston through the door.

"I'm a guy I know for a fact that he did," He commented passing into the hall before me with a smug smirk. "Because I know I would of," He stated just as smug.

"Go eat," I waved him off as my feverish face turns even redder. Auston walks away laughing, I close the door again and rest my heated face against the cool surface to get composure back.

"He's the worst," I groan into the door with mild bitch fit before I school my breathing and feature to calm and collect before re-opening the door and leaving the room stuffing the Gatorade in my hoodie pocket.

Walking into the slightly crowded restaurant despite the fact food service just started, the scent of food assaults my senses and instantly causes a split reaction in my stomach; Hunger and nausea. A shiver runs down my spine as I fight the urge to gag and end up coughing instead.

Shaking it off, I walk towards the food with a grimace as the smell gets stronger making me breathe through my mouth rather than my nose to stop the smell from connecting to my sore stomach. I view the different foods in awe and sadness as they all look so delicious but I can't stomach much or any of it yet.

Drifting passed all the warm yummy foods, I end up grabbing a banana, plain toast, and a mint tea.

The other food just too harsh for my recovering stomach and throat.

"Amelia," the ginger goalie appeared to my left quietly. "How are you? Auston practically describes that you were dead," Freddie gently threw an arm around my shoulders and rubbed my arm soothingly with a teasing smile on his face. Cleary seeing that I am not dead

"I feel like it thats for sure," The rasp in my voice visibly hits Freddie's ears as he winced and chirped that I sounded like it too, his arms still around me as he guilds me to the same table as yesterday where Auston is residing with plate a of half eaten food and a mug of what I'd guess to be coffee.

Settling in the same seat as yesterday, I arrange to face the boys with my back against the wall taking my Gatorade out of pocket and cracking the deal and taking a test sip of the sweet drink. My stomach doesn't react prompting another but still small sip, the cool fluid providing relief for my sore throat.

Setting the bottle on the table with a sigh both of the hockey players are staring with pitiful eyes and a grimace, Sticking my tongue out at them they look away with small smirks and continue to eat.

The banana goes down without resistance as does a little bit of tea but my stomach starts to have a fit when I go to pick up the toast. The smells stopped bothering my stomach so didn't try and push what little comfort I achieve as I sip my tea absorbed in whatever conversation is happening around me.

Couple more bodies had joined us with plates overflowing with nutrient foods and some chirps about me not being in as bad of a state as Auston had described to which Auston would defend if they'd been there and I saying that I sure as hell still felt like death.

My body was still remarkably sore especially my diaphragm that is putting a damper on my breathing because it hurts. My body shifts between hot and cold about six times in a minute that doesn't go unnoticed when my cheeks get really red then I start shivering.

Matt was watching me from the end of the table with worried eyes but I waved him off which brought the curious eyes of Mitch and Wiliam as my cheeks started to flare again then to cuddle into my layers.

The conversation was steady and light currently on the subject of Auston's ripped jeans and shoe collection being bigger than some of their girlfriends but Auston just rolls his eyes at them.

Resting the back of my head against the wall, my eyes start to droop with the need to sleep again and the comfortable feel of safety the guys surrounding me provide with their slightly intimidating size even Mitch.

"Noah hooked her up to banana bag and saline last night," Austons voice was soft as he whispered to the table. "She was puking all night," There was a deep layer of concern in his voice.

"Poor girl, Shouldn't she be in bed?" Matt's mature side coming out as he joined the whispering and some sounds of approval with i'd guess nodding along.

"Noah advised for her to get out of the room so the cleaning service could come through and for her to try to get some food or fluid," Auston's sparknote version of what I told him earlier. The conversation lulled as only typing on phone could be heard.

"It says here, Banana, Rice, Applesauce, and Toast are the most recommend things for someone with the flu to eat," Mitch recited smartly.

"I think she already knew that," William whispered.

"I did," I added not opening my eyes and getting comfortable in my little corner and preparing to actually sleep this time. "At least wait for me to actually fall asleep before you start talking about me, " A tired smile pulled lamely at the edges of my lips as I pull the hood up over my head and ended over my eyes.

I do actually end up falling asleep this time with my head resting against the wall, legs stretched out in front of me knocking someone's ankles, and the neck of the sweater pulled over my nose.

That lasted until Freddie tapped me on my shoulder saying they had to go get their act together for the morning skate. I sleepily nodded and followed behind the group of athletes with my Gatorade into the elevator.

If i could i would have tossed my body into the freshly made bed but I carefully crawled under the covers and cuddled up into dreamland for some more precious sleep.

Noah comes back around to check on me around 1 pm checking temperature, breath sounds, lymphoid and throat. My temperature was high but coming down and he only made a small face well inspecting my throat with his pen light.

"Well you're not worse which is good at least you're stable," He started packing up for the 3rd time today and was out with the same 'call me' stick.

I shed a layer of clothing by removing the hoodie and socks, a sign i was really tired because I never can sleep with socks. I grab a water and gatorade from the fridge and crawl back into bed with the tv remote trying to find something to make the room less dead.

Settling on a what looks like comedy by the appearance of Adam Sandler yelling at a kid - a good sign.

I fall back asleep quickly.

A weight on the side of my bed alerts me to the presence of someone. Instinctively I roll over giving said weight room to lay down instead of being sprawled in the middle.

"What time is it?" I mumbled being roused awake.

"1:30 pm," Came the deep voice I expect.

"Isn't it time for your pre-game name?" I rolled over to face him.

"What do you think I'm doing," with that the covers lift and he settles in.

"Hmm," I barely hum snuggling into the pillows and blankets.

Strong arms circle around my waist and Auston snuggle me with a sigh.

NEXT

[demenior]

Number 7 for the meme?

7. Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

rip mobile users

I could honestly quote like any and all ending conversations that Shiro and Haggar have in Little Monster as my favorite pieces of writing. There’s so many layers to what each of them do to/for one another, all based on manipulation and the need to survive, that everything has a double meaning and nothing is quite as it seems. The ending scene of ch3 in particular I love, because it juxtaposes so many facets of their relationship. Shiro states in that chapter all the different things that Haggar is to him, 

“I love you,” Shiro says, and he throws in every Galran word he has to try and express what she means to him— master, mother, sister, lover, creator, and still none of these words come close to truly explaining who she is to him— and exposes himself raw to her, “I love you. Let me kill for you.”

and those all come back at the end, albeit more subtle. 

“Malch,” he says tentatively, trying to think of how to explain himself, and braces for a scolding. She’s quiet for a moment, deciding in how she should punish him.

She huffs a sigh and rolls over, pulling him close so that the wet blood on her front smears across his chest. It’s a strange sensation- Feeding Day is the only day she goes to bed so dirty like this- and it’s almost cold compared to the heat of her fur. Shiro can’t help the smile that spreads across his face. A bubble of joy pops in his chest and he wants to laugh. She isn’t casting him out. She wants him to stay.

She lazily licks the blood from his face, “You made me very proud today,” she says between swipes. Her teeth are long and shine bright in the darkness. They’re inches from Shiro’s face and he cranes his neck to give her access to his throat. He’s a messy eater. There’s blood everywhere.

“Don’t send me away,” he asks, “please. Keep me. I’m yours.”

The hum of approval rumbles in her chest, and he can feel it while he’s pressed this close to her.

“Yes, mine,” she says fondly, “my Champion.”

His name is a soothing balm to his anxious mind. She’s given him back his identity

OR

The lead up/moment of reveal in Little Monster about the Galra eating habits are my absolute favorite, if only for the shock of it all. It’s set up to appear that Shiro’s going to have to fight, which is what he knows the Galra do and what we the audience know the Galra do. And I played off the assumption that fics in Voltron fandom about Shiro were rife with Shiro being forced into bad situations that involved him fighting and killing against his will. My entire goal was that the cannibalism would come completely out of left field-- and yet make perfect sense.

I wanted the readers to feel like Shiro-- just completely in shock and horrified and unable to get the idea out of their heads. I think, overall, it’s pretty hard to shock people in fic since we’re all about those ‘out there’ kind of concepts like kinks or contrived coincidences etc. And for all that fic can be sexually graphic, I find it’s not often physically graphic. So I felt really delighted to hone in on a niche little genre with Little Monster that would be unique enough to stand out and, hopefully, make an impression. 

Really the entire First Cycle Banquet is some of my favorite for Little Monster. Shiro’s so, so out of his element and in what must be just a living nightmare. He’s alone and unable to communicate, then forced to sit and watch the sadism of the banquet while fearing he’s going to be eaten alive next, and then he’s forced to participate. It also sets up his and Haggar’s relationship very well-- she has all the power, and yet he still defies her until she breaks him. And then she’s happy to coddle him and treat him, essentially, like he’s her child. 

So really I could have quoted the entire first chapter of Little Monster, but instead I’ve just got a big chunk under the cut. Pay attention to how the tension grows as it builds to the reveal, and how Shiro is convinced it must be about fighting, even as all the signs start to point to something else. 

The Boss Galra stood in front of the throne and held a hand up. All talk, even the prisoners whimpering, stopped. Shiro leaned out again to watch.

The Boss Galra started talking. His voice boomed, gravelly and low, rumbling in Shiro's chest and in his bones. This was some sort of ceremonial speech? At points the Boss stopped and all of the other Galra would chant a response.

The speech didn't last long, and all of the aliens stood taller and thumped their chests again and shouted, three times Vrepit Sa!

Not for the first time, Shiro wondered what that meant. Now all of the Galra were watching the Boss. Not with respect but with anticipation. They were all licking their lips, and most of them were drooling outright. They were expecting dinner. Dinner and a show, most likely, Shiro thought darkly. This was some sort of gathering of high-ranking aliens, he was sure of it, like a banquet. They were going to have the prisoners fight for entertainment. Was that why he’d been brought here?

Two drones were standing off to the side. The Boss gestured to them and pointed at the prisoners. They marched into the crowd and started scanning. A blue light showed the direction of their gaze, and they started making their way through the prisoners. Anyone who didn't move was electrocuted and knocked to the side.

As they moved through they picked certain prisoners to stand to the side. The first round to fight no doubt. Despite the cold Shiro could feel himself breaking into a sweat. His muscles were aching, and an open terrain like this was a complete disadvantage for him. He couldn't fight here. He looked up at the Important Galra, hoping that she'd have some way to tell him she was going to protect him. She was watching the drones closely. He could see that under her hood her ears were pointed forwards, all senses locked on the upcoming fight.

The drones directed the selected prisoners to the Boss. He hadn't sat down yet in his throne. Did they have to fight him ? Shiro's stomach dropped. There was no way he'd survive a fight with a 10 foot tall monster.

The Boss inspected the quivering prisoners in front of him. One of the aliens pissed himself- at least, that's what Shiro thought happened. All of the Galra started laughing, filling the space with wheezing hyena cackles. A few of them roared, shifting excitedly on the spot. The Boss selected three of the prisoners-- all larger aliens who looked quite strong. The drones brought the remaining prisoners to the Important Aliens, and while she selected between them, Shiro made eye contact with some of them. He knew them from the cells. One of them was the one that had saved some food for him and the Holts one their first day- the one with the single eye that wouldn’t look at him after the Arena fight. It's single eye stayed trained on Shiro. It was shaking so badly Shiro was shocked it could stand. Be brave he tried to say in his own look, be strong. We’ll get through this.

The Important Galra chose the one-eyed alien, as well as a second that was very, well, fat. It was nearly the same size as a cow, and lumbered slowly on three legs. The two of them were chained to the hook in the floor, keeping them in place. That seemed… odd, for a fight. Maybe they'd pick a fighter and release them for the round?

More drones were now taking the other prisoners to the other aliens around the edge of the room. No one else got to choose their fighter. Perks of being in charge, Shiro supposed. Maybe the Important Galra was more of a Queen, and the Boss was the King? Shiro needed to find a way to communicate with them before something bad happened. He wasn't a criminal- like many of the prisoners probably were- and he needed to get the Holts and get home soon.

The Galra all around the room started taking off their armour. That was… weird. Shiro was surprised at what he saw. He'd assumed they were as bulky as their armour led him to believe, but most of them had flabby, sagging stomachs like they hadn't had a proper meal in months.

Well, that explained the lack of banquet food. Maybe they'd started making the prisoners fight each other to forget they were starving. Shiro hadn't actually seen any of the Galra eat. He assumed they were carnivores based on their teeth, but there wasn't a lot to eat in space he figured.

The Boss- King- had also stripped down. He looked like skin and bones, betraying the huge stature and impression he'd made walking in. His booming voice stopped all excited conversation, and he said a few more lines with increasing excitement. The prisoners all started trembling and shouting. What was he saying? The Galra were shouting now, along with the King. They were jumping where they stood, unable to contain themselves.

The King roared. It sounded like a plane taking off. It rattled Shiro's teeth and deafened his ears. The big mouth with those huge, huge fangs opened wider, wider and wider than it should be possible. Shiro watched his jaw dislodge like a snake, opening wider and wider still. The Galra shouting was so loud it was shaking the walls.

Shiro's stomach dropped so fast he thought he was going to be sick. He knew what was happening, he didn't want to believe it. The Galra all went silent, holding their breath in anticipation.

The King dropped onto all fours to reach the prisoner chained closest to him, engulfed an entire flailing limb in his mouth and bit down.