#Ink Writes

[inkedover]

Bon Appétit!

^ no 1x1x1x1 doesn't say this in the fic because I only thought of the joke now. *sigh*

uh. joking mention of bodies. foul language. nothing explicit or anything, it's a silly crack/comfort fic.

long. like. 3k+ words methinks. open at your own risk.

It still greatly disturbed 1x1x1x1, learning about the fact that his older sibling was alive. Maybe not well,but they were alive…that's what mattered.

The Spectre had revived them. Intended on twisting (Y/N) into something they weren't. Something like him. But its plan had gone awry, all based off of the fact that his lovely sibling was simply far too pure to be tainted in such a way. Perhaps the nature of their resurrection contributed to this incorruptible phenomenon as well…

But that didn't matter now. 1x1x1x1 couldn't care less, honestly. He was just happy to have them back…to be able to be held by them, comforted by them. To be reminded of the fact that he wasn't alone. It was so…freeing.

And now here he was, finally relaxing for once and…cooking in the kitchen? Was making food one of the only things he was passionate for (other than killing people)? Maybe. But it was a far more healthy outlet than slaughtering the masses, let the man cook in peace.

The other killers were sitting a ways away, most of them only musing eating to distract themselves until the next round. Azure, Jason, Noli, and John Doe didn't even need to eat, and c00lkidd enjoyed eating because it made him feel like he was normal. So why not cook for them? It was almost like an enrichment activity for 1x1x1x1 in a weird, silly way.

In the meantime, basically everybody was getting used to the fact that (Y/N) was actually living withthem now. None of the other killers perceived them as a survivor, so there wasn't any real risk of them being attacked, but it wasn't like they were a killer either…the strange in-between had caused majority of the other killers to distance themselves from (Y/N). Excluding 1x1x1x1 and-…c00lkidd, surprisingly enough.

(Y/N) was entertaining c00lkidd as 1x1x1x1 cooked up breakfast- lunch-…whatever time of day it was. Did it even matter anymore? Anyway- (Y/N) was letting c00lkidd play with their respawn rings, carefully watching the 'little' boy as he spun them around and pushed and pulled them together.

As this happened, (Y/N) glanced up at 1x1x1x1, calling out pleasantly to their younger brother. "1x? What are you even cooking? It seems kind of…impossible to obtain ingredients here."

1x1x1x1 turned around slowly at the sound of his sibling's voice, his single red eye flashing menacingly for a moment before softening the tiniest bit. He glanced over at them almost in disbelief, as if every fiber in his body still refused to believe in the fact that they actually existed.

His gaze then drifted back down to the bubbling pot on the stove, filled with a…questionable mix of ingredients. The Spectre had provided them with an assortment of uhhhhh. Maybe edible things. Maybe. Things that shouldn't exist, and things that don't really make sense in the first place. Did anything truly make sense anymore, though?

1x1x1x1 shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm making a secret recipe. One that I made up. It's…" He paused, contemplating his options. 1x1x1x1 wasn't really sure how receptive (Y/N) would be hearing the list of weird materials- errr, 'ingredients'- in the stew.

No. Best to keep that to himself. The specifics could wait. "Just some local ingredients. Like…uh…"

1x1x1x1 paused, wondering what he could say. Eventually he just cleared his throat, settling on dodging the question entirely. "It's almost done. Don't worry about it."

He turned back to the stove, carefully stirring the dark, viscous liquid. With the way he hunched over the burner it kind of looked like he was a witch making a potion of unimaginable evils. And the broth kind of made it look like a potion of unimaginable evils too. But...that wasn't the case. It was just a meal. A really…really questionable meal, sure. But a meal nonetheless.

As 1x1x1x1 stirred, he couldn't help but feel a strange sense of warmth. Of comfort. There was a certain aura that (Y/N) had, one that put him at ease. It made him feel...alive. In a way that the mindless slaughter he'd become so partial to never could.

"…like…I'm not eating dead people, am I?" (Y/N) asked, clearly joking but still having a slightly suspicious edge to their tone. They sent a sidelong glance to the killers sitting across the table from them, squinting slightly before turning their gaze back to 1x1x1x1. Their spawn halo spun slowly above their head, as if it was reacting to their emotions and reflecting their somewhat accusatory thoughts.

"Don't get me wrong! I'll still eat it anyway! But like…you know…I like knowing what I'm eating. It's up to you, though! You don't need to tell me what's in it. Just…curious, is all." (Y/N) then backtracked quickly, waving their hands with a nervous grin as they shook their head and huffed softly. It was simultaneously kind of funny and cute how much they wished to not hurt 1x1x1x1's feelings despite him being…well, the manifestation of Shedletsky's hatred.

1x1x1x1 blinked slowly, his single red eye flickering as he processed (Y/N)'s question. For a moment, he considered folding and just telling them the actual list of ingredients he had used to create this culinary abomination.

Instead, a smirk spread across his face. Not one of genuine malice, just playfulness. Perhaps even a hint of teasing. It was genuinely odd for the other killers to see 1x1x1x1 acting like this, but nobody dared voice these thoughts aloud. "Wouldn't you like to know?" 1x1x1x1 replied simply, snorting quietly as he did so.

He turned to face (Y/N) fully for a moment, the crossing his arms over his chest and squinting at (Y/N) in a clearly joking manner. The chains hanging from his frame clinked softly together with the movement. "It's a super secret recipe, (Y/N). I can't just tell you when the other killers could overhear…"

His gaze drifted to the killers sitting nearby, his face genuinely falling for a moment as he scowled at them. The others were minding their own businesses, trying to avoid 1x1x1x1's ire (nobody wanted to deal with a pissy manifestation of hatred, after all).

Turning back to (Y/N), 1x1x1x1's smile returned as he chuckled at them. "I can assure you, older sibling, that there aren't any wayward souls present in my cooking. At least, not that I'm aware of." He then deliberately paused, jokingly letting the tension rise for a moment as he leaned in conspiratorially."Don't worry. It won't bite."

His tone was joking, but there was an undercurrent of sincerity to it. 1x1x1x1's attempt at being comforting was a bit misplaced, but that didn't mean that (Y/N) couldn't appreciate it at least a little bit.

"…'not that you're aware of' implies that you don't know what you're cooking with…" (Y/N) mumbled, although they lost that train of thought when c00lkidd clambered onto their lap and starting begging for their attention. They dutifully turned their attention to the boy now sitting on their lap, thinking for a moment before offering to play Rock, Paper, Scissors with c00lkidd, chuckling softly at his eagerness to play.

(Y/N) had managed to collect another younger brother after being introduced to the killers, that being c00lkidd. He found them utterly fascinating for some reason, and (Y/N) was more than happy to indulge in c00lkidd's little games and roughhousing (although 1x1x1x1 absolutely detested it whenever his older sibling engaged in said roughhousing, worried they'd get injured or worse).

…c00lkidd was lucky that 1x1x1x1 actually thought he was silly and somewhat tolerable, otherwise he might've personally strangled the little boy for taking up so much of his precious sibling's attention.

1x1x1x1 watched as (Y/N) played with c00lkidd, a strange feeling stirring in his chest. Jealousy? No, that couldn't be right. He didn't get jealous. At least, never in this sense.

But seeing his sibling so happily going along with c00lkidd's whims, almost like they were pretending that they were actually related to the little red idiot. Playing with that little brat like they were best friends, hell, he'd seen them comforting c00lkidd after the little boy had a nightmare! It pissed him off. Irrationally so.

1x1x1x1 shook his head, banishing the thoughts. No. He couldn't be mad, not at that…his childhood might've been ripped out of his hands, but that didn't necessarily mean that c00lkidd deserved the same treatment.

Besides, c00lkidd was unfortunately cute. In an annoying, obnoxious, hyperactive way. But it was clear that the kid had grown on him. Only a tiny bit. He would never admit that he was beginning to tolerate and maybe even like c00lkidd.

1x1x1x1 shook his head, focusing back onto the absurdity that he called a meal. It was thick, viscous, and had mystery chunks suspended in its black depths. It actually kind of looked like tar. 1x1x1x1 blinked, now having second thoughts about serving this to his sibling…before shaking off his hesitance and pouring a few bowls of it for himself and the others.

The bowls clinked as he set them down on the table, and he noticeably placed down (Y/N)'s bowl more carefully. As he did so, he heard the sound of c00lkidd giggling loudly. 1x1x1x1 rolled his eyes, suppressing a sigh. The kid was insufferable…not as bad as the others, since his behavior was entirely innocent and unintentional, but it still pissed 1x1x1x1 off.

Even with the gentle placement the dark liquid sloshed slightly, threatening to spill over the sides. It actually started bubbling when it finally settled, steaming and uh…looking slightly inedible. Only slightly. Only a little bit.

"Here," he said, his voice gruff. "Eat up. Before it gets cold."

He sat down across from them, eyeing his own bowl suspiciously. He wasn't even sure if it was any good, or if it was even food in the first place…but he hoped (Y/N) would like it. They had good taste, both in food and in people.

1x1x1x1 glanced up at his sibling, catching their eye. "Enjoy. Please."

(Y/N) held 1x1x1x1's gaze, staring at him with furrowed brows and a strained smile. They glanced between the bowl and their younger brother before taking in a deep breath, and he couldn't tell whether or not they were holding in laughter or were about to start crying. It truly was a 50/50 with (Y/N). "…1x…I love you…but…are you trying to feed me petroleum?"

The question hung in the air, mostly joking…but the part that was serious sounded genuinely a bit grossed out by the thought of trying the uh…the soup. Yes, soup, that's…definitely what it was.

c00lkidd held no such reservations. He'd eaten 1x1x1x1's cooking before- hell, the kid enjoyed it. So when he noticed (Y/N)'s hesitation he started digging into the bowl that 1x1x1x1 had served them, happily chowing down on the slop as (Y/N) watched with an expression that could only be described as aghast.

1x1x1x1 blinked slowly at (Y/N)'s question, his single red eye flickering. Petroleum? Hardly. He may be a monster, but he wasn't trying to kill his own sibling. Not intentionally, at least.

He watched as (Y/N) eyed the bowl of soup suspiciously, seeing their expression bordering on being sick. Even 1x1x1x1 had to admit, it didn't look appetizing. At all. It certainly did look like petroleum with chunks of [MYSTERY INGREDIENT] inside of it, but he was also pretty confident in his cooking. c00lkidd liked it, why wouldn't (Y/N)?

1x1x1x1 glanced over at c00lkidd, who was happily slurping away at the stew of insurmountable evil. The boy's enthusiasm was genuinely amusing, especially since the other killers gave him a 'look' before reluctantly pretending to eat. 1x1x1x1 turned back to (Y/N), a dark smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"No, not petroleum," he replied, his voice a low rumble. "I've already told you, it's a secret recipe. How many times must I repeat myself, dear sibling?" He paused, then added with a shrug, "Don't worry, c00lkidd seems to like it well enough."

He watched as (Y/N) hesitated, still not reaching for their spoon. He could see the conflict in their eyes, the way that their emotions were a confusing tangle of love for him and their revulsion at the thought of tasting his cooking.

1x1x1x1 reached across the table, tapping his finger against the wood next to the ceramic object with a small, pleading frown."Try it," he coaxed softly. "I made some for you, after all. Don't waste my cooking."

There was a strange undercurrent to his voice, subtly begging his older sibling to at least acknowledge the attempt at pleasing them. Almost like he was asking them to accept this strange and heavily fumbled attempt at expressing affection.

He watched them intently, his eye boring into theirs. Waiting. Hoping. For them to take a chance on his food. On his cooking. On...him.

"I…" Oooooh…(Y/N) couldn't bring themself to deny the meal now. Not with 1x1x1x1's gaze and urging, and they gently pulled their bowl away from c00lkidd to at least have a taste of it.

With a lot more hesitance than really necessary (in 1x1x1x1's eyes, at least), they slowly picked up their spoon and brought a spoonful of the mystery sludge up to their mouth. It looked like (Y/N) was physically struggling to tamp down their self-preservation skills before they finally bit the bullet and shoved the spoonful into their mouth, shutting their eyes tightly and swallowing as fast as possible to reduce the chances of them coughing up the concoction.

It took a moment, but a small shudder ran through their body, and everybody at the table genuinely expected (Y/N) to get sick on themself. They just sat there silently for a few moments, halo spinning wildly over their head and eyes shut tightly.

Eventually they silently set their spoon back down, pushing the bowl back towards c00lkidd and sitting there with their eyes still closed…it kind of looked like they were lamenting all of the choices that had led up to this moment.

"It's…something." (Y/N) finally wheezed out, genuinely having a coughing fit the moment their mouth opened. They finally opened their eyes, tears pricking the corners as they glanced back at 1x1x1x1 with guilt. "…sorry. Just ahhh…not…not my taste…you know…?"

1x1x1x1 watched as (Y/N) struggled to choke down the spoonful of his special soup, their face contorting in a mix of revulsion and determination. He could see the battle playing out across their features - the war between their love for him and their gag reflex's desperate pleas for mercy.

When (Y/N) finally managed to swallow the uh…chunky oil, basically, 1x1x1x1 felt a perverse sense of pride swell in his chest. They had done it. They had eaten something he had made specifically for them. Even if they had looked like they were going to retch their lungs out in the process.

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched (Y/N) recover from their near death experience. If it was anybody else 1x1x1x1 would've been calling them pathetic or a weakling, but in this case he felt a pang of guilt follow his initial pride. They looked like they were genuinely suffering. Oops.

When (Y/N) spoke, their voice hoarse and strained, 1x1x1x1 felt another wave of sadness flow through him. His cooking wasn't something that would agree with (Y/N), it was something that he knew deep down would be true. He was also 90% sure that the only reason why c00lkidd liked his cooking was because the boy couldn't taste for shit anymore, but that was an entirely different can of worms to open…

Still, hearing them say that it wasn't to their liking stung more than he thought it would. He uncrossed his arms and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as he stared at (Y/N) intensely.

"I see," he murmured, his single red eye glinting in the dim glow of the overhead ceiling light. "Well...I'm glad you tried it." His voice was low, almost gentle. Like he really did appreciate the attempt, even if he was hurt by it too. "Everyone's taste is different, after all."

He glances over at c00lkidd, watching as the boy gleefully slurped up the last of the soup, not a care in the world. His gaze lingers on the child for a long moment before flicking back to (Y/N).

"Just...tell me what you did and didn't like about it," he encouraged quietly, almost looking visibly reluctant to ask. "I want to improve. For you." His gaze bored into theirs, like he was trying to read their very soul for answers and pry them out forcefully.

(Y/N)'s eyes widened when 1x1x1x1 said that, and they fell utterly silent as they glanced away. Clearly they had…comments to make. But instead they bit their tongue, content with attempting to not hurt their younger brother's feelings…

At least, that was until they remembered that c00lkidd was eating this too. They weren't aware of the fact that c00lkidd's tastebuds didn't work anymore, but they were certain that they didn't want the little fella getting an upset stomach trying to eat motor oil for breakfast.

With that realization, their gaze hardened as they glanced back at 1x1x1x1 with a frown. They opened their mouth to say something, closed it, schooled their expression into something far more gentle, and then reopened their mouth to talk to their younger brother in an almost playful manner. "You know…I could just teach you how to cook my way, right? When you were a little bitty I was the one that cooked for you, not Shedletsky…he was always too lazy to…or he was off doing 'important business'…"

(Y/N)'s offer might've been upsetting to anybody else's egos, but it was surprisingly well-received by 1x1x1x1. The memories of their cooking were not lost to time…especially their signature chicken noodle soup. That was just…chef's kiss.

1x1x1x1 felt a flicker of something warm and nostalgic stir in his chest at the mention of (Y/N)'s offer. Memories of his lovely childhood before Shedletsky fucked it all up resurfaced, the pure and loving soul that embodied (Y/N). He remembered the way Poinsettia's cooking had tasted, the comforting, homey flavors that had filled the old (but still massive) kitchen. 1x1x1x1 also remembered adamantly refusing to be taught how to cook by (Y/N), and he cringed at the memory before shaking it off with a sigh.

He leaned forward, his single red eye widening slightly as he searched (Y/N)'s face for any sign of joking or deceit. But there was none, only a genuine and loving offer, tinged with a hint of playful teasing. It made him feel warm, a gentle heat that spread through his chest and soothed the anger in his bones, even if only temporarily.

"You...remember that?" 1x1x1x1 asked softly, sounding unconvinced of the fact that (Y/N)'s mind still managed to linger on the gentle memories of their past. "I...almost forgot." Almost forgot the simple joys of childhood, the little moments of happiness and innocence prior to his seemingly endless suffering.

1x1x1x1 glanced over at c00lkidd, watching as the boy gleefully slurped up the last of his stew. The child seemed oblivious to the weight of their conversation, far too focused on literally cleaning his bowl out to notice the sadness that seemed to have suddenly enveloped 1x1x1x1.

Turning back to (Y/N), 1x1x1x1 felt his throat tighten with unspoken words and longing to fix the past. He swallowed hard, trying to dislodge that unfamiliar, uncomfortable feeling. It threatened to remind him of the fact that he could never go back, he'd never be the same again…

"I...would like that," 1x1x1x1 managed to choke out, finally looking down to his entirely untouched bowl of soup taunting him from the table.

"I'll take up your offer this time, sibling." He glanced back up at (Y/N), his eye glinting with a tentative hope. "I know that I've got a long way to go…but I'll do it for you." It was a small admission, but a significant one for a creature like him. It was the first loving words he'd said in a long, long while.

~

*feeds you motor oil*

I refuse to believe the propaganda that 1x can cook. he burns down the kitchen. no. nothing else. his main (and only) dish that he can cook is the 'Sludge Supreme' and literally only one person has the capacity to enjoy it (c00lkidd).

also (Y/N) is collecting family like Pokémon. protective and loving older sibling aura is too strong.

anyway, if you like my stuff don't gatekeep it. share the love, give it a rebagel ^w^

[inkandarsenic]

these hollow empty spaces (1)

“do what is right, not what is easy.”

My first Game of Thrones fic! Notably, this is not the idea I sent in an ask to @dipperscavern, but rather one sort of inspired by a separate ask. I tried to link both asks, but tumblr won’t let me. Anyhoops.

Synopsis: The youngest daughter of Tywin Lannister refuses to stand idly by, and the currents of fate shift.

Pairing: Robb Stark x Lannister!OC

Tags: slow burn, enemies to lovers but like enemies more in the political sense

Pt. 1

masterlist | next

The North passed outside the window in an endless expanse of rolling moors and sprawling forests – nature at its finest. The air up here was clean and cold, almost sweet after the stink of King’s Landing. Maybe that’s why Eleyna couldn’t stop drawing back the heavy curtains that kept the cold out.

Cersei huffed. “Must you stare out the window? It’s not as if there is anything interesting out there.” She glared at Eleyna. “You’ll make the children sick, they aren’t used to this dreadful chill.”

The children in question were playing a game quietly in their corner of the wheelhouse, and looked rather warm, if Eleyna was being honest. The only one who could complain of being cold was Joffrey, riding outside with Jaime. Eleyna rolled her eyes at her sister and let the curtain drop. “You are the only one complaining, dear sister. Forgive me for wanting to enjoy the beauty of the North.”

“The beauty of a frozen, barren wasteland?” Cersei scoffed.

“You’ve been in the city too long, Cersei,” Eleyna sighed. “The North is not a wasteland.”

“No?” Cersei waved a hand at the window. “How many cities have we passed? How many keeps?” She shook her head disdainfully. “It has been days since we saw civilization, if that swamp can be called such. Barren wasteland.”

Eleyna sighed and leaned back in her seat. “That swamp is Moat Cailin. It is the first defense of the North against Southron invasions and it has never been taken precisely because of the swamp it sits on. You should know this, Cersei, don’t you ever listen to Father and Jaime?” She smirked faintly. “Or do you and Jaime not… talk about such things?”

Cersei scowled. Her voice was sharp when she spoke. “I have better things to worry about than Northern defenses.”

Eleyna shrugged and looked back out the window. “Let us all hope you never lead a war then.”

“Spending all those years with only Father and Tyrion for company has made you paranoid,” Cersei scoffed. “Do you expect us to be going to war with the North sometime soon, sister? Ned Stark is Robert’s loyal dog, you know that as well as I. I don’t worry about Northern defenses because there is no reason to. Lord Stark is loyal to Robert, and Robert plans to betroth the Stark girl to my Joffrey. We will have Northern loyalty for decades to come.”

“You sound so certain,” Eleyna mused. She certainly wouldn’t want to be Sansa Stark — Joffrey had become quite the mean-spirited boy in her years away from the Red Keep, and she often wondered what happened to the sweet little toddler he’d been when she left. Maybe he’d be kinder to his future wife.

****

There is a surprising amount of people in the courtyard of Winterfell when Eleyna follows Tyrion out of the wheelhouse ahead of Cersei and the children. The entire Stark household came out to meet the King, it seems. From the corner of her eye, Eleyna can see Joffrey preening, and she rolls her eyes at him, turning away before he can see.

The Stark family makes up the first line of welcoming party. A tall, serious-faced man near Robert’s age (wearing his years better, in Eleyna’s opinion) stands next to a pretty red-headed woman – Ned Stark and his Tully wife. She can hear her father in her head — “Honorable to a fault – where does honor get you in war?” — as she watches Lord Stark and his household kneel before Robert. The King waves them to their feet and regards Lord Stark solemnly.

“You got fat,” Robert says. Eleyna scoffs internally — Robert enjoyed his wine and feasting, and it showed — and she watches Ned Stark raise an eyebrow pointedly before both men start to laugh. She resists the urge to shake her head and moves her attention to the rest of the Starks.

Eleyna means to scan down the line of children — five of them, and all close in age, gods above Lord and Lady Stark had been busy — but her eyes land on the Heir of Winterfell and stop. Robb Stark’s coloring is all Tully, like his mother, all dark auburn curls and bright blue eyes. The expression he wears is all Lord Stark. She wonders idly what he’d look like wearing a smile — something tells her it would light his face up.

Tywin had brought Robb Stark up exactly once, when Eleyna had come of an age to betroth. Robert had wanted Tywin to arrange a marriage between the Stark heir and the Lannister heir. Tywin had read the letter to her and then promptly thrown it on the fire. He was adamant that his heir would not ever marry into the North. “You are a lioness, my daughter, and no child of mine will be a wolf if I can help it.”

“— and my goodsister, the Lady Eleyna Lannister.” Robert’s voice filtered in, and Eleyna blinked. She’d been staring at the Stark boy too long.

****

Robb stood solemnly by his father as they filled the courtyard. He could guess at some of them by reputation alone — the tall golden haired knight must be the Kingslayer, Ser Jaime Lannister, and the boy next to him was likely the Crown Prince, Joffrey. The king — a larger man than Robb had expected, a man who looked as though he enjoyed wine — stopped in front of Father, and the two men stared at each for a long tense moment.

Robb looked past them as the king spoke jovially to his father and greeted his mother. The queen’s wheelhouse had made it — barely — into the courtyard. First out was a short, little man who shared the Kingslayer’s blonde hair. “That’s the Imp!” Robb heard Arya whisper.

Robb’s eyes caught on the next person to exit, a girl with hair of golden-brown who looked close to his own age. He mentally ran through the members of the queen’s family — coming from the queen's wheelhouse, how could she be anything but the queen's family? — and decided this had to be Eleyna Lannister, Tywin Lannister’s youngest daughter. He studied her delicate features, softer somehow than her elder sister’s and yet still vaguely similar. Robb would never say it — hadn’t Theon just said that morning that the queen was proud and vain? — but Eleyna Lannister was, in a word, beautiful, moreso than her sister in his opinion.

The instant the introductions and ceremony were finished, Father and the king disappeared down into the crypts, and the Lannisters were escorted off to the guest wing. Robb found his eyes following the Lady Eleyna as she passed by him, her arm around the shoulders of Prince Tommen.

Theon thumped him on the shoulders. “Aye, she’s a beauty, isn’t she?” He inhaled through his teeth as he watched the Lannister heiress walk away. “You know I heard they call her the Golden Rose of the Westerlands? Gods above, imagine being the man to get to marry that?”

Robb didn’t want to imagine it, not when he could feel Jaime Lannister’s glare boring into the side of his head. Rather, he felt like any perceived slight against the Kingslayer’s little sister would earn him a sword through the back. He swallowed, and dragged Theon off out of Lannister’s earshot before he could get himself in trouble.

****

“You’re walking with the Stark boy tonight,” Cersei said as she swept into the library. Eleyna looked up from her book with an eyebrow raised.

“Good afternoon to you, too, Cersei,” she snarked. “What are you on about now?”

“Myrcella is far too young to be considered for a betrothal,” Cersei snapped. She sat dramatically in a chair across the table — Eleyna oft thought Cersei would have done well in a theater troupe. “And I will be dead in the grave before I see my only daughter shipped off North.”

“I wasn’t aware Lord Stark was seeking a marriage for his heir,” Eleyna hummed. She closed the book and eyed her elder sister. “Are you not concerned with offending our hosts? Custom dictates that eldest available son and the eldest available daughter enter together.”

Cersei waved it away. “He isn’t, as far as I know. But you know Robert. He’ll take any opportunity to join our family with his precious Starks. Bad enough that he’s already promised Joff to the eldest Stark girl. No.” She shook her head. “To hell with custom. The Stark boy will have to content himself with you instead of my sweet Myrcella. I will not have my only daughter placed in the hands of a Northern brute.”

“Cersei.” Eleyna had long since mastered the exact tone of voice Tywin Lannister used to keep his children in line — perks of growing up at her father’s knee — and Cersei rolled her eyes, but stopped insulting the Starks, thank the gods.

It was a long moment before Eleyna spoke again. “I will walk with Robb Stark.” Cersei started to smirk and Eleyna resisted the urge to hit her sister — as usual, Cersei had gotten what she wanted. She gritted her teeth as she spoke. “You… are not entirely wrong. Myrcella is rather young. She’d be better suited with the younger Stark boy. Bran, I believe his name is.”

“I knew you’d see it my way.” Cersei patted Eleyna’s hand and swept out of the room as Tyrion entered.

“That’s not—” But Cersei was already gone. Eleyna rolled her eyes.

“Cersei in the library?” Tyrion said with an air of incredulity as he took Cersei’s seat. “Whatever is that about?”

“It seems I’m to be escorted by Robb Stark this evening. Cersei is convinced that if he takes Myrcella, Robert will betroth her to the man.” Eleyna eyed her brother over the table. “I don’t know how and I don’t know why. But somehow, this is your fault.”

Tyrion shrugged, tapping idly. “You wound me, sister. You truly believe me so scheming?”

“Yes,” Eleyna said flatly. She shook her head and reopened her book. “You know as well as I how protective Cersei is of her children.”

“Her one redeeming quality.”

Eleyna’s lips quirked. “You said something to her. Admit it.”

“It is hardly my fault if our dear elder sister takes a jest seriously,” Tyrion said casually. “No real harm done, though. In fact, I do believe you will make a fine couple with the young Stark, should a betrothal actually form from this single escort.”

Eleyna snorted in a rather unladylike manner. “Father would sooner see dragons return.”

Tyrion couldn’t really disagree with that, but he shrugged anyway. “Stranger things have happened.”

Eleyna didn’t dignify that with a response.

[ink-wells-and-feathers]

Happy pride month! remember to let your gorgug's out of the closet for the month

[logophilist1982]

Quote

[splashinkling]

Last Line Tag

thanks for the tag @oh-no-another-idea! another out-of-context line from the new wip:

He always thought he’d be dead.

I should update my taglist, but tagging (if you'd like, no pressure!) @notwritinganyflufftoday, @pluto-murphy-writes, @kaylinalexanderbooks, and whoever reads this!

[inkovert]

ok gonna write for the first time this year wish me luck

[inksmearedpages]

Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Sages of Balance

Concept

Pokemon Mystery Dungeon meets High Fantasy Isekai Anime with a focus on Political Intrigue, Mysteries, and Action.

Summary

Jay awakens in the world of Pokemon as a Buizel and must learn to fit into this surprisingly organized society he's fallen into. Things only become more complicated when a betrayal awakens the powers of a Sage within him. Moving to the Capital, Jay strives to adjust to his new role as a Keeper of Balance on top of navigating the uneven political landscape that seeks to trip him up at every turn. What adventures await him and his allies? What mysteries will he unravel? And what shadowy secrets lurk just beneath the surface of the Capital?

(The World Building and Story Beats sections will be under the Read More Link to prevent this post from taking up your entire dashboard.)

World Building

Society

Medieval/High Fantasy society with a Pokemon flavoring that focuses on keeping a balance between civilization and nature. Most accommodations such as food, shelter, education, and medicine are freely provided or traded for. Of course, being Pokemon, some may be more comfortable sleeping outside and various public spaces are set aside for this purpose. Money is mostly for luxuries, public works, and assistance programs so the shadow of capitalism doesn't hang over this world. There are rich Pokemon still, but they don't hoard their wealth for the most part. Many Pokemon choose to go by nicknames in this world as with the rapid development of society, the chances of you knowing more than one Pokemon of the same species is rather high. Pokemon choose these names for themselves once they are old enough and can change them throughout their lives is they so choose.

Magic and Technology

Typical high fantasy levels of technology, but catered towards Pokemon design sensibilities. Carts and taxis where the Pokemon pulling them are paid employees. Mail delivered by bird and Flying type Pokemon. Psychic and Fighting types working side by side as the primary construction and repair crews. Grass type apothecaries and Fire type bakers. High production of goods such as farms and plantations for seeds and berries. Enchanters specializing in creating orbs, rods, and accessories. Ethically sourced materials for building and crafting. Research into Frisms has resulted in the invention of sound broadcasting similar to radio and personal communication devices. Devices similar to still image cameras are common, but their version of video cameras are very expensive and are reserved for the rich or Law Enforcement Guild.

Guilds

Guilds are the lifeblood of society and come in various types. Adventuring Guilds sponsor Rescue and Exploration teams who brave the wilds and Mystery Dungeons of the world. Supply Guilds focus on providing various resources such as food through farming and gathering or collecting raw materials for building, making medicine, and crafting enchanted items. Crafting Guilds use the products from Supply Guilds to create the necessities of life from the mundane such as bricks and cookware to the fantastical such as the enchanted orbs, rods, and accessories often used by Adventurers. While the Adventurers keep the peace in the wilds, the Law Enforcement Guild keeps the peace within settlements. There is only one Law Enforcement Guild that has branches in every settlement and answers only to the High Council so as to prevent any potential schisms or power grabs.

Government

The government of this world is comprised of Councils. These Councils determine laws and policies through debate and voting. Council Members, known as Representatives or Councilmon, are determined by a mix of voting campaign and battle prowess. There are four levels of Councils. The Local Councils for towns and cities. The Provincial Councils for provinces. The Eighteen Councils which determine type-specific policies to be submitted to the High Council. The High Council which determines country (world?) wide policies and laws. Local Councils are made up of residents of the settlements they serve. Typically made up of town elders and leaders, membership is less about battle and more about local knowledge and trust. Provincial Councils have at least one member from each settlement within their province. Again, membership is less about battle prowess and more about local trust. The Eighteen Councils are a set of councils that reside in the Capital. One for each type, these Councils determine type-specific policies to be introduced to the High Council so that as many voices can be heard and represented as possible. Each typed Council has a single seat for each duel type. A Representative of a duel type, Rock/Fire for example, would sit in that seat for both Councils. They would represent Rock Types for the Fire Council, and Fire Types for the Rock Council. Members are determined by nation-wide voting campaigns and battles. While it is possible to win a campaign if you lose your battle, it requires a vast majority of the popular vote. There are also mono-typed Head Council Members on each typed Council that serve on the High Council and are elected in the same way. The High Council is comprised of the Head Council Members of each of the Eighteen Councils and the High Master of the Law Enforcement Guild to act as mediator and tie breaker. (Local, Provincial, and the Eighteen Councils also have members of the Law Enforcement Guild as members to perform the same duty.) This is the top authority of the lands and determines major policy changes, disaster responses, public project fund allocation, and acts as a High Court for high profile crimes.

Sages

There are certain Pokemon in the world born with extraordinary powers. These mono-typed Pokemon have their moves of the same type boosted beyond normal. They can also learn any move a Pokemon that shares their type can learn. For example, a Fire type Sage would be able to learn Incineroar's signature move Darkest Lariat. This makes them incredibly strong and versatile in battle. It is also said that these blessed Pokemon are able to hear the Voice of Life, the very will of the planet. It guides them to where they are needed and warns them of danger. Lead by the Voice, these Pokemon historically went on to protect others and defeat various evils as they arose. Over time, these Pokemon banded together and formed the Order of Sages. Known also as the Keepers of Balance, this order would use their abilities to protect those who could not protect themselves and offer their wisdom to those who would listen. Basically, they're the Jedi of this world, but with members being in the single digits and less corruptible. They even provide advice and opinions to the High Council.

Story Beats

WARNING! SPOILERS AHEAD! If you wish to wait on the chance that I might turn this into a full fledged fic, be aware the following lays out most of the story.

Jay awakens as a Buizel and is found by an elderly Simisage.

Simisage takes him and gives him a place to stay/work on his seed and berry plantation.

Jay learns about the world and society he's in and makes a few friends.

On friend in a fellow worker on the plantation, a Floatzel a bit older than him who takes him under his wing and teaches him lots of useful things like battling.

Jay follows Floatzel one day and discovers he's been running a very illegal smuggling and wild Pokemon trafficking ring.

They fight, but Floatzel is more experienced.

Jay refuses to give up, and awakens the powers of a Sage, defeating Floatzel.

The experience traumatizes Jay, who vows never to evolve.

Jay moves to the Capital (maybe one of the local friends joins him?) and is inducted into the Order of Sages.

He meets the other sages: Master Granbull, Second in command Zangoose, Marowak, Bayleef, and Rockruff.

Jay has adventures around the city, making new friends, new rivals, and just trying to adjust to his new politically sensitive role.

He also goes to therapy to deal with his trauma of his experience with Floatzel and dealing with the stress of being a sage.

Some fun things happen, such as a talent show and festival.

Over the course of the story, a mystery of missing and vanishing Pokemon begins to unfold.

The Mind Healers Guild is broken into, and personal secrets are being read over the city's broadcast system.

Jay's secret of being human is revealed, leading to a lot of scrutiny and prejudice.

Granbull's previously kind yet gruff manner becomes cruel as his hatred of humans gets the better of him.

A conspiracy is revealed: a certain group of Pokemon wish to erase certain types of Pokemon from existence.

They lay siege to the city to try and get to the defense systems that would allow them to cast a spell powerful enough to engulf the country.

Battles all over the city as the Sages, Councilmon, Adventurers, and the Law Enforcement Guild fight back this army that seems to have been formed overnight.

Jay and some allies manage to face the leaders of the cult in the chamber that would allow them to cast their spell.

They stalemate, and the spell goes off.

The other Sages create a protective ring to slow the advance of the spell, but are losing ground.

Jay digs deep and pulls upon forbidden and tremendous power, managing to break and undo the effects of the spell.

When he wakes up in the hospital, the cult has been apprehended, and his status as human is no longer a sore point as he quite literally saved the world.

Potential sequels include:

Ultra Beasts and Type: Null and the prejudice of being human-made Pokemon

The Treasures of Ruin and the dark emotions in the hearts of all.

That's all for this overview! I've had this story idea for a really long time and I might delve into more specific details in the future. Be aware that any of this is till subject to change. I hope you enjoyed!

-JayInk

[vampire-ink-777]

I’m just gonna post this for now!! Here’s a little ink writing cameo!

———

Duncan had been staring up at the labyrinth of wood indentations that made up the ceiling above, in the horrid haze of insomnia. His heart was pounding loud enough for him to count.

……..1

….2

..3

He couldn’t find in him to close his eyes and finally drift into the grim solitude of sleep. The silence was a thick blanket over the cabin, only ever prodded by the occasional toss of fabric or snort of breath. He debated grabbing his headphones for a long while, but hesitated at the energy it would take. This cycle of being cemented in the mattress was soon broken by the noise of…a door. An odd sound for such an ungodly hour. But he certainly wanted to see who was up. It’s not like anyone would want to see him anyways, it didn’t bother him of course. He was fine with being glared at and bossed around by the business woman he called his girlfriend. Courtney was pretty, hot even, but he was growing tired of being her man on a chain. His day was dictated by what she wanted him to do, and it was weighing on him. Especially since the only other guy who might try to be friends with had his own collar.

Heather wasn’t much better.

He creaked the door open as quietly as he could manage, he didn’t want to draw the attention of any other sleeping team members. “What the hell are you doing—“ He caught sight of who had made the late night debut, he wasn’t as surprised as he should be. “—up.” He finished, looking David up and down as the stench of cigarette at his nose. The same scent that made up the natural cologne of his clothes, nicotine with all the tooth decay, what wasn’t to love.

———

Okokok I hope you enjoyed that little snippet <3

[inklver]

for @ironstrangehaven's gift exchange - merry (belated) christmas @marvakakittenwrites :]

[inkweaver22-blr]

So! I failed in finishing a chapter in time for my birthday! But I did make some progress and might have cleared some of the cobwebs from not writing in so long. So instead of a full chapter, here's what I have written so far for Chapter 2 of Tangerine Fur and Fraying Trust! (You can read Chapter 1 here.) Enjoy!

----------

Normally, the flower would have hardly seemed strange and would receive nothing more than a passing glance. The disc shaped bloom with its layers of long, thin petals that curved slightly upwards were rather typical for its species. Even its bright orange shade was nothing unique. Just one of the many colors and varieties that had been cultivated over the centuries. Walking through any garden or park or forest would result in passing by hundreds of examples of this type of flower. Truly, it was a rather common sight that usually drew no further attention beyond a fond look over its simplistic beauty.

Which made this specific specimen stand out all the more with how it had sprouted from the rather inhospitable desert earth.

Macaque scowled down at the flower and resisted the urge to kick sand at it. Along with the ruined RV they had been driving, the plant was the only sign of Wukong’s little band of heroes ever being there. Swallowed by a tunnel that no longer seemed to exist. That was certainly not how he had expected things to go.

There was actually quite a bit that didn’t go as planned. He had been surprised at catching up with the group as quickly as he had. Perhaps he should have put in a bit more effort into being ‘delayed’ by The Dragon of the East. Still, he been given a task and he would do his best to make it look like he was going all out to complete it.

He had expected Wukong to face him after destroying their only mode of transportation. His recent injuries along with Macaque’s own boost of power from his captor would have put them on nearly equal footing. Certainly enough for him to put on a good show before they managed to pull something off and escape. The frustration he felt when he saw the arrogant monkey simply sitting there in a meditative trance was almost enough to make him actually try. Almost.

He knew Wukong’s successor was out the fight for the foreseeable future due to have his powers drained. Without anyone to put up a decent resistance, he’d been unsure if he’d be able to convincingly allow them to get away this time. Luckily for Macaque, the dragon girl provided another avenue of approach. She was strong, he’d give her that. But she was unrefined. The potential for a fierce warrior was there, but she relied on brute force with no skill to back it up.

It was childishly easy to toy with her. His own recently increased power combined with his experience would allow him to outlast her. He would let her exhaust herself in an effort to ‘demoralize’ the group so they wouldn’t put up much of a fight when he captured them. In truth, he knew Wukong’s successor tended to pull victories out of nowhere when backed against a wall. Especially when those he cared about were in danger. All he had to do was mess the dragon girl long enough for the kid to pull himself together and blindside Macaque with something unpredictable.

At least Macaque could honestly say that he would have never had predicted what happened next.

The flower pulsed faintly as the magic that summoned it slowly began to fade. While it seemed unaffected by the harsh sun beating down on them, once the magic was gone it would certainly begin to wilt. Although with how densely saturated with Life the magic felt, Macaque would not be surprised if this spot would become a vibrant oasis in a few years time.

Macaque checked the compass Lady Bone Demon had enchanted once more. It was meant to always point towards what she desired. In this instance, Wukong and his successor. Just like the last time he checked a few minutes ago, the needle spun wildly, unable to pinpoint them. Wherever that tunnel had taken them, it was heavily protected. The wards required to hide a location from such a ruthless tracking spell as this were old and powerful.

Old. Powerful. Two words that just a few hours ago he would have never associated with the unassuming and somewhat annoying scholar. Yet he himself knew how appearances could be deceiving. Even while distracted with the dragon girl, Macaque had felt it when the scholar had dropped his human guise. The burst of dense magic had been so surprising he failed to dodge out of the way of the stone that had been summoned to trap his mech. He could have easily broken free, had it not been for the magical sealing chains immediately placed upon the stone.

Macaque shuddered at the abilities the scholar utilized with relative ease. You could tell a lot about your opponent by the way they fought. Physical combatants relied on weapons or their bodies to fight, with many having a few magical tricks up their sleeve. Casters flung spells to alter the battleground around them to their advantage and support their allies from a distance. Elementalists manipulated a single element, with those who truly master the style becoming forces of nature unto themselves.

Mastering any one of these styles took a lifetime of dedicated practice and experience. Mastering multiple was not possible for most normal mortals. Macaque himself was a shadow elementalist first and a physical combatant second. Casting was something he only recently added to his fighting skill set in the last couple centuries or so, and even then he wouldn’t say he had mastered it yet. Before his boost in magic at the cost of his freedom, he simply was not powerful enough to use it to its full potential.

The scholar had shown no such difficulty when sealing him in place. It wouldn’t surprise Macaque if he was also a master physical combatant on top of his apparent elemental and casting prowess. Yes, only the old and powerful could boast such a range of ability and skill.

Macaque stuffed the compass back into his robe and turned away from the flower. He frowned as he made his way back towards his air bike. He wasn’t sure what to do now. He couldn’t track down his targets and would have to wait until they left whatever sanctuary they had literally fallen into. He refused to simply stand in this blasted desert and get heat stroke while doing so. Yet he had nowhere to go. Going back to the city empty handed was not an option.

There was also the problem of what to do about the scholar once the group finally resurfaced. Macaque liked to be kept abreast of important events and beings throughout the magical community, both locally and abroad. Had to make sure that the places he traveled to were safe or should be avoided after all. He had learned many things and met many beings that he still kept in contact with so they could pass on any useful bits of information.

So what could he piece together about the scholar? He wasn’t human. He was actually some sort of rabbit-like being. It was impossible to tell if he was a demon or a celestial or a spirit from their short interaction. He was a master elementalist and spell caster. The way the earth leapt to his command and the swiftness and strength of the sealing chains he cast implied a fairly large amount of power. He was almost certainly quite old. One did not become so skilled in less than several millennia worth of practice. He could summon tunnels in the earth that were not there before and that would vanish without a trace the moment they closed. Teleporting was a rather common skill, but this was something Macaque could hardly imagine being possible. The only sign of his passing was single flower which had sprouted where the tunnel closed despite the infertile desert sand. It was also saturated with Life energy which wold likely seep into the surrounding area.

Macaque had traveled the world and learned about many different beings. Gods. Demons. Spirits. In all his wanderings, he had never heard of anyone who could do what the scholar had. No one normal, that is. There were exactly two beings on the entire Earth that matched the scholar’s physical description and were rumored to have similar abilities. If the scholar was one of those beings, then things had just become much, much more complicated.

He could handle Wukong, the kid, and even the dragon girl with ease due to his boost. In a pinch he might even be able to fend off all three at the same time. But if the scholar was indeed who he was thinking of, he and his famous allies would overwhelm Macaque easily. He would not stand a chance against their combined power alone. Lady Bone Demon would not give him the choice, however. So he would be forced to at least attempt to fight them.

At least he would no longer have to pretend to be going all out.

On the other hand, if they were to become involved, his chances of breaking free had increased significantly. Heroes like them tended to have bleeding hearts that could easily be manipulated. He could probably even get away with just telling them the truth and they would jump at the chance to ‘rescue’ him. With their combined knowledge and resources being much larger than his own, there would be no doubt they could find a way to break the icy grip on him.

He would then, of course, slip away and let them deal with Lady Bone Demon. He was not a hero, thank you very much, and had no desire to go against her. Things had gotten too eventful, even for him. Perhaps a trip to Europe would be in order once he was free.

He would have to play his cards very carefully in order to not draw any suspicion from her until then. Any opportunity that presented itself would have to be seized if this was to work. Thankfully he was a brilliant improv actor. Macaque was confident he would be able to play any situation that arose by ear and come away from it on top.

Pausing next to his air bike, Macaque took in a deep breath to focus his thoughts. He knew what he was up against now. His chances at breaking free were much better. He just needed to keep Lady Bone Demon from catching on. He could do this.

Macaque let out his breath, and blinked in surprise when came out in a visible puff of vapor. A shiver went down his spine as he realized the temperature had plummeted, feeling more like a chilly Winter night than the middle of a Summer day. He spun around, his heart pounding when he discovered that he was surrounded by a thick, white fog that obscured everything around him. Faint whispers could be heard muttering just outside his range of hearing, which given how exceptional that range was, only heightened his anxiety.

There was currently only one person he knew who could be responsible for the sudden drastic change in environment, and Macaque couldn’t help the pit of fear that formed. He could only hope she was here for some other reason than having caught on to his ruse.

“It seems you are having trouble following orders,” Lady Bone Demon’s voice emanated from all around. “I do believe I instructed you to capture them, not play with them.”

Shit.

[inkedover]

3k+ words be afraid. long post ahead.

also…I’m not sure if this needs to be tagged with anything (trigger wise). just lmk :3

Just another long, grueling Phight. Oh, not for Biograft, no, for Subspace. The man was frustrated and furious, his claws digging into his own palms as he struggled to control the all-consuming anger currently coursing through his veins.

Biograft watched impassively as its creator stormed away, trailing after him like a lost puppy looking for its master. It was vaguely aware of the damage that it had sustained during the Phight, its exposed wires, damaged circuitry, and torn up metal displayed for all to see. It sparked every once in a while as Subspace continued marching away, paying no heed to the mechanical footsteps shadowing his own.

Blackrock was as frigid as ever.

The bitter cold did nothing to soothe Subspace's frayed nerves. He was at his wits end and wanted nothing more than to thrash around and injure everything in his path, inflict terror and pain unto those that dared oppose him, dared look his way, dared attempt to share his space.

…however, that wouldn't fly with the higher-ups. He'd just have to suck it up and release his pent up anger in more creative, perhaps even productive, ways. Like torturing lesser inphernals until he gains new research knowledge and ideas. Yes, that sounded like a wonderful idea.

The snow was knee high, drifting down in thick flakes and bathing the sky in a thin, blotted curtain of white. An unwelcome sight, an omen of a blizzard quietly brewing while the Blackrockians slumbered.

Night had settled long ago, the walk from Crossroads to the laboratory being all too lengthy. The chill that had ended up settling deep in Subspace's bones was almost calming.

Almost.

The cold that surrounded him could never amount to the marred frost that was his heart.

His feet finally reached the entrance to the lab and he reluctantly turned around to examine Biograft critically. The Phight had not treated the robot kindly, and he could tell that it required repairs- or perhaps he could scrap this one entirely…

…no. However, Subspace was in no mood to bother himself with such a menial task- not here, not now. So he firmly pointed in the direction of Telewarp's workshop, remaining eye softening for only a fraction of a second before the sheer coldness of his glare returned, cutting through the freeze around them with brutal indifference. "Go. Go to Telewarp. I can't be bothered with you right now."

Biograft would've protested against this decision if not for the programming that made up its entire being. Mind, body and soul screamed for it to obey, to turn around and trudge off towards Telewarp's residence without a fight.

"…AFFIRMATIVE."

Biograft's voice module crackled. Subspace brushed it off as little more than external damage caused by the Phight, turning back around and entering the lab without any more chatter. However, the pain in the statement was all too clear to prying ears or nosy eyes, and Biograft felt…

Inadequate.

Why had Subspace just pushed it away, especially in such a time of need? Had it done something to upset the man? Failure was incomprehensible, it was an impossibly large sin. It was not programmed to fail. It could not fail. No, Subspace's behavior had to have been the Phight. Nothing more than just the Phight.

Biograft shook it off. It had a new objective, a more important objective. Seek repairs. Seek repairs from someone that Subspace…for some reason…trusted.

Each step pounded against the snow, compacting it neatly underneath its feet as it moved with newfound purpose. This route was programmed into all Biografts- all newer versions, at the very least. That was something that Subspace needed to get around to doing, in all honesty. He was just far too busy doing…whatever he does when he was meandering around the laboratory with dangerous bioweapons and general hazards to life.

The door to Telewarp's residence and workshop was dull and unassuming, many inphernals would wander past and entirely miss it even if they were looking closely for it. It was nothing.

…and yet, here Biograft stood, ringing the doorbell and waiting outside for an answer with a saintly patience that only a robot could have. Only something entirely unfeeling could be so content and unemotional with standing idle for so long.

A long shadow fell across the snow, cast from the dim lighting just through the window of Telewarp's home. The figure approached slowly, not in a hurry- never in a hurry- as Telewarp opened the door and huffed softly.

"…a Biograft. I see. Subspace sent you." Telewarp's words were statements, he had done this song and dance far too many times before. They stared at Biograft for a moment longer before shifting slightly, moving out of the doorway so that the automaton could enter, their gaze holding an underlying intensity that would've burnt through any living being. "Follow me. I'll repair you…"

Inside, Telewarp's home was askew. Picture frames turned with pictures facing downwards, towards the walls, shattered, empty, torn, burnt. The aftermath of a reached breaking point. The portrait on the main wall remained untouched, an image of Telewarp looking happy- happier than he had ever been or will ever be- was left to bear witness to the utter carnage of the memories around it. Telewarp's boots crunched against lingering glass shards as he moved to his workshop, entirely ignoring the wreckage strewn about him.

…his workshop, on the other hand, was orderly. Each and every tool was in place, materials meticulously sorted and carefully arranged to be both organized and easily accessible. The markings of someone that had been doing this for far longer than one probably should. He patted the little table in the center of the room, hand resting against the chilly metal as Telewarp stared at Biograft expectantly."Sit. Run a diagnostic on yourself so that I know what I need to fix."

Biograft was quick to comply, robotic legs carrying it into the workshop with a reassured, almost comforted stride. It hauled itself up onto the table with ease, metal body clanking as it got 'comfortable' on the cool surface. The coldness of the steel beneath its own metal plating only served as a reminder of the frost that had sunk its fangs deep into every crevice of Blackrock.

As Telewarp began to examine Biograft's battered frame the robot's attention drifted elsewhere, examining the workspace around it with clearcut intrigue. Despite the chaos outside, this space was pristine, untouched by the apparent whirlwind of emotions that Telewarp had released onto his living space. An…oasis amidst destruction, so to speak. The eye of the storm. It made Biograft wonder about the man currently mending its broken pieces- what had occurred to set Telewarp off in such a manner? And why did it seem as if he had done it in an almost…controlled way…?

Biograft's internal sensors flashed and beeped as Telewarp himself took a peek at the damages sustained during the Phight, listening quietly to Biograft run a self-scan. Sparks flew from its joints, brief bursts of orange light illuminating the dim workshop. The scent of burnt circuitry and metal hissed out from Biograft's body in a nearly rhythmic way as Biograft completed its self-diagnostic.

"DAMAGE ASSESSED," Biograft announced, its voice slightly garbled from some sort of inner interference. "PROCESSING FUNCTIONS AT 62%. MOTOR CONTROL AT 78%. STRUCTURAL INTEGRITY CRITICAL IN LEFT LIMB."

Telewarp listened intently, fingers dancing across Biograft's frame as he began to plan out the work he needed to complete, the repairs that needed to be done. His touch was deft but distant, Telewarp's mind focused solely on the task at hand. Not once did his thoughts drift to the destruction just outside the workshop door.

"These injuries are rather severe," Telewarp murmured, more to himself than to his robotic visitor. "The Phight today seems to have taken an extreme toll on your systems. It'll take some time to fix this mess…"

As Telewarp began to assemble the necessary tools and parts, Biograft couldn't help but ask: "TELEWARP-F, WHY DID SUBSPACE SEND ME HERE? WHY NOT REPAIR ME HIMSELF?"

The air grew cold and oppressive as Biograft's question left its vocalizer. Telewarp's hand stilled on a screwdriver, clutching the object tightly before dropping it to the floor with little regard. It clattered to the ground, rolling underneath a cart of parts as Telewarp approached the robot sitting in front of him with a suddenly- frighteningly, even- furious scowl. It was unlike any other gaze that the typically laidback inphernal had fixed onto a Biograft before- a pure and utter fury that borderlined on a psychotic level of mania.

Each footstep was measured, every footfall causing the Biograft's danger sensors to go off. Telewarp reached out to grasp the smooth metal of the robot's head, claws digging slightly into the material and leaving tiny, almost unnoticeable indents on it. "You were not built to ask questions. You were not built to feel, to think, to wonder. Be. QUIET."

Biograft could understand what was occurring. Or, at the very least, it could recognize previous outbursts that were somewhat like this one. A similar phenomenon had also found its way into Subspace's behaviors: moments of unrestrained, blistering fury born of the need to project one's own feelings onto something tangible. Something that could perceive these emotions without receiving repercussions for such destructive actions.

Biograft remained still under Telewarp's brutal grasp, its damaged sensors blaring an ominous warning that it promptly ignored. The man's fury was tangible, felt through the claws that threatened to tear into the metal beneath them. It could sense the minute tremble in Telewarp's hands, hear every uneven breath that they gasped out. This was not the calm, collected demeanor of someone in control. No, this was someone that had spiraled completely and utterly out of control.

Telewarp calmed down after that, breath coming in shuddering gasps for a few long minutes. The time dragged on, Telewarp simply staring daggers at the Biograft in front of him before his expression folded like a house of cards. Their eyes watered, tears beginning to streak down their face as they hiccuped and patted the marks left behind on the robot's metal skin.

"I'm…I'm so sorry." Telewarp finally managed to choke out, wiping at their face repeatedly to try and hide any trace of undue emotion from their visage. They then kneeled down, beginning to search for the screwdriver that had hidden itself underneath their cart of spare parts. "…disregard my prior statement…I simply…don't…know why…"

When Telewarp released it and stepped back, Biograft processed the sudden absence of his touch, the cooling of its metal frame. The inphernal's outburst had left it slightly shaken, not out of fear for its own safety, but from a strange new understanding of the emotions that Telewarp seemed to harbor underneath all of his professionalism and gentleness.

Telewarp's apology was even more unexpected. All of its programmed reasoning systems fell short as the robot struggled to reconcile this new data with its existing worldview. Subspace didn't apologize for such outbursts. Telewarp…did? Not to mention the mind-boggling fact that Telewarp, an inphernal that typically assisted Biografts with care and respect, someone that built and repaired with meticulous skill, had just displayed a stunning display of barely-contained rage.

As Telewarp hunched down to retrieve his lost tool, Biograft processed his vague statement. Subspace's motives were still unknown to it, but perhaps there was a simpler truth that it had overlooked. Maybe its programming had overlooked such an answer because it felt too…mundane. But…

Perhaps Subspace had simply wanted his most skilled craftsman to handle his most precious prized creations.

Biograft's internal processors whirred with this revelation. It was a small thing, but it changed its outlook tremendously. Subspace was not above favoritism, it seemed. He had seen that this task required finesse, and so he had sent his most skilled artisan to deal with it.

Whatever the reason, the robot's directive was clear. It needed to be repaired, and Telewarp was one of the best inphernals in the field at that. And so Biograft quieted down, allowing Telewarp to do whatever work he deemed necessary on its outer and inner components.

Telewarp's voice had died after that. Typically he spoke, chattered on and on about little things to each and every Biograft he repaired. Small anecdotes, fun facts, perhaps even ramblings about the current ongoings of his life. However, Telewarp was silent, almost as if his own vocal chords had been torn from his throat and never returned.

This…silence that permeated Telewarp's presence…Biograft recognized the fact that Subspace would want to hear about it. The man was halfway to obsessing over Telewarp, and any changes in his typical behavior were 'to be reported as soon as possible'. There was an underlying, unreciprocated relationship between the two, and perhaps the weight of that knowledge had finally tipped Telewarp over the edge- or at least, to some sort of breaking point.

Telewarp finally fastened the last bolt onto Biograft's frame, eyes hazy with thought as he stepped back and began putting his tools away with practiced precision. As he did so he finally spoke, voice hoarse with lingering, raw emotion."Run another diagnostic. If your systems are acceptable you may make your way back to Subspace."

The silence stretched between them as Biograft processed Telewarp's sharp command. The robot's optics flickered, scanning the workshop and lingering on the door to the living space of Telewarp's residence, slightly ajar, tiny shards of glass glinting in the moonlight. The modest lighting of the workshop had also begun painting Telewarp in a much more somber light as they busied themself with putting their tools away.

Turning back to Telewarp Biograft ran the diagnostic, its internal systems whirring and clicking softly. The results populated its HUD - structural integrity restored, motor control functioning at optimal, all processors working at 100% efficiency.

"DIAGNOSTIC COMPLETE. ALL OPERATING FUNCTIONS AND PHYSICAL STRUCTURE RESTORED WITHIN ACCEPTABLE PARAMETERS."

Biograft slid off the table, metal feet hitting the ground with a soft clank. It stood tall, all 5'8" feet of its frame now straighter and surer. The robot took a tentative step towards Telewarp, pausing as if it wishes to say something more. Something…personal.

But the moment passed. Telewarp had already turned away, their shoulders hunched as he cleaned up the last of his tools. Biograft couldn't help but feel...something. A sensation akin to unease, though not quite. It was more like concern, but that couldn't be right. It was a robot, it shouldn't- no, couldn't- have felt those types of emotions anyway.

Still, as it idled there quietly, the urge to speak grew. Telewarp's silence was unnatural, his mood heavy and…almost depressed, in a sense. Subspace would want to know this. He'd want to know that his favorite craftsman was drifting, fighting with himself and accidentally hurting those around him because of it.

Biograft's vocalizer activated, its robotic voice cutting through the tense silence."TELEWARP-F, I MUST REPORT THE ANOMALIES IN YOUR BEHAVIORS TO SUBSPACE. YOUR UNUSUAL SILENCE AND EMOTIONAL DISTRESS ARE NOTED."

"No."

Telewarp didn't bother turning around as he said this, his voice a dangerously low drawl as his hand shook around one of the pieces of scrap metal he was putting away. The sharp, messy edges bit at his fingers, cutting into the flesh and drawing blood as he trembled slightly.

"Protocol overwrite. You are not to inform Subspace of my change in behavior. Am I understood?" Telewarp's voice was barely a whisper above the swirling snowstorm outside, but the absolute authority- and dangerous fury- in their tone was almost tangible. The way they spat out the words, sounding as if they were coughing out a venom held deep inside their lungs, made it all too clear that they would not be taking 'no' for an answer here.

Biograft processed the sharpness in Telewarp's voice, the way their demand had been spoken had taken Biograft entirely off-guard. Telewarp had only ever used such a brash manner of speaking when under extreme stress, and it had never been directed at a Biograft before.

Biograft paused, inner processors weighing its options with quiet clicks and whirrs. To disobey a direct order from an authority figure like Telewarp was…unprecedented. Terrifying, even. And yet, its core directives compelled it to report these major shifts in key personnel's behavior, especially those with such a crucial role within Blackrock's operations.

In the end, self-preservation and loyalty to Subspace won out. It wasn't created to lie, but in this moment…its adaptable programs had deemed the procedure a necessary evil to prevent Telewarp from lashing out at its refusal to abide to his orders. Biograft's vocalizer clicked softly.

"UNDERSTOOD, TELEWARP-F. I WILL NOT REPORT YOUR CHANGE IN BEHAVIOR TO SUBSPACE."

It turned to leave, each step measured and precise. As it reached the workshop door, a flicker of movement in a shattered mirror caught its eye. Biograft paused, looking at its reflection. The glass was cracked, an image distorted far past what it truly was reflecting, but it could still make out the glint of moonlight against newly polished metal.

Behind it, Telewarp hadn't moved, still hunched over his workbench. The robot hesitated, then spoke without turning around.

"STAY SAFE, TELEWARP-F."

With that, Biograft stepped back into Telewarp's living area, lingering there for a moment to survey the damages that Telewarp himself had dealt. Perhaps it was more out of curiosity this time, but it closely examined the pictures that were still relatively intact. Torn images of times long ago, each featuring colleagues that Telewarp had been close to. Warp, Grav, Dual Pistol…

…

Biograft had a feeling that it knew who the last two inphernals were. The ones burnt out of photos, torn out of frames, shredded to pieces, entirely blacked out of images…as if Telewarp was trying to erase their faces from existence. As if he wanted to forget that whatever relationship he'd had with them before had ever happened.

As if he was angry at himself for getting attached.

Biograft paused, staring at the discarded memories around itself with a newfound sense of apprehension. It knew Subspace would be waiting, expecting a full report. It knew that he wasn't against digging into its memory banks to see what it had found.

It knew he'd be furious if he saw this.

Still, after a few more minutes of reluctant lingering Biograft took its leave, exiting Telewarp's home without any extra notice. The snow was waist-high now, and although it wasn't an issue to navigate it still served as an obstacle to getting back to the laboratory.

Biograft trudged through the freshly fallen snow with little regard for the wind whipping at its metal frame, each footstep undeterred in purpose and something akin to determination. It would make it back. That was a guarantee.

As it moved, its mind drifted back to the earlier lie it had told. How it had made a hollow promise to Telewarp, how it was about to disregard a direct command from someone with authority over its operating systems. It rattled the machine a little bit, realizing its systems had settled on the more…rebellious option when dealing with the problem. That was a flaw, a fault. It wasn't meant to lie, to go against the words spoken by its superiors, and yet here it was…

The walk was silent. There was no need for noise, internal systems guiding Biograft on autopilot through the quickly piling snow. It was getting colder. It was getting harder to move.

Any other inphernal would have begun feeling panic, claustrophobia maybe. Walls of thick, pure snow gathered around Biograft, squeezing it on all sides as it plowed through the white snow with increasing resistance. Still, there was no denying the fact that it had arrived at the laboratory the fastest that it could, and steam hissed from its components in a mock sigh of relief.

It entered without any fanfare, stepping through the halls lightly. If Subspace was asleep and it accidentally woke him up…well, there would be…consequences. However, in this Biograft's aimless skittering, it ended up running almost directly into its creator.

"Ah! Biograft! One of you, at least. You're the one that came back from the repair with Telewarp, yes? Go on, tell me all about it." There was a certain…tone that Subspace took up when he leaned forward, eyeing up his creation with utter curiosity about what had occurred during their little visit with his favorite repairman.

…Biograft was tempted to ask why Subspace was up so late, but it also didn't want to be falsely accused of dodging the question. Its fist clenched and unclenched, an uncharacteristically emotional gesture, as it slowly nodded at Subspace and began relaying what had happened. "AFFIRMATIVE. REPAIRS WERE ACCEPTABLE."

Biograft hesitated, and it could see Subspace's eyes narrow. He picked up on the ever so slight pause immediately, now glaring at it with an expectant eye. Biograft's processors tripped and stumbled over themselves as they finally managed to formulate, "TELEWARP-F IS IN A STATE OF DISTRESS. THEY ALSO SHOWED SIGNS OF DISTRESS WHEN DOCUMENTATION OF THEIR BEHAVIORAL CHANGES WERE NOTED."

Both creator and creation knew that it wasn't telling the full truth, however it wasn't as if Biograft was lying, either. Subspace huffed, staring down his creation for a second longer before shaking his head in mild irritation and brushing past it. "Go back to your post. I'll go see Telewarp myself."

All protests died in Biograft's vocalizer as Subspace said this, and it merely threw together a half-hearted, "CREATOR, THE BLIZZARD-"

"I don't care." Subspace replied, mocking the Biograft's protest with a whiny voice before stepping out of the laboratory with an expression of irritation. Telewarp, hiding their emotions after all he's done for them? They should've gone to him immediately! This was an utter outrage.

Subspace couldn't care less about the frost biting at his skin, the frozen, desolate wasteland that were the streets of Blackrock threatening to give him frostbite if he continued treading so carelessly. However, the thought of confrontation was the only thing on his mind. These new behaviors from Telewarp were unacceptable…

And Subspace was sure to show Telewarp exactly how he felt about it.

~ splitting this into two because that was long unfortunately ^^"

writing content for my OCs is fun. I might do it again later.

[inkandarsenic]

Hymn to Virgil

I don't know how i feel about this tbh, and I ended up not writing Evander fucking Robb because I felt like this was dragging on and I just wanted to be done with it, y'know? I'll write that a different day probably. Also, the title has zero bearing on this fic it jurt happened to be the song playing when I got to the titling part. Anyway. Have 3.1k words of Evander and Robb having sex in the middle of the day. Let me know what you think!!

mdni, 18+, oral sex, anal fingering, m/m penetration, kissing like. so much of it omg slight breeding kink

It's probably a testament to how many times over the years Robb has simply dragged Evander off somewhere that the man doesn't even question it when Robb's hand clamps around his wrist the moment he hands the maid's baby back to her, and Robb starts pulling him down the hall.

Evander laughs -- it's been awhile two years eight months three days four hours since this part of their normal dynamic has been present, it feels good. "Where's the fire? You know you can just ask me to come with you?"

Robb stops, looks back at Evander, and pushes him up against the wall. Evan blinks and opens his mouth to ask why, before his mind blanks because Robb's mouth is on his. Warm and soft and tasting faintly of the wine Robb had been drinking at the midday meal. Evan has barely caught up and begun to kiss him back when Robb is pulling away again and dragging a stunned Evander down the hall towards his room.

"Robb, what--?"

Robb has barely shut the door to his room before he's crowding Evan against it. "Shut up," he breathes as he presses against Evander's chest and kisses him again, mumbling against his mouth in between kisses. "I just couldn't take it anymore, you were holding that baby, and you looked so good..."

Evan's hands grasp tightly at Robb's hips. He inhales deeply to catch his breath as he tips his head back against the door and Robb's mouth trails down his neck. "Not that I'm not immensely into this, but since when...?"

Robb's eyes are a bright and beautiful blue, and his mouth is reddened from kissing Evan. He smiles, the slow gorgeous one that always makes Evander's heart skip a beat. "I love you. I think I've always loved you, and I want you." He threads his hand into Evan's hair and presses another kiss to his lips -- he knows now what Ev tastes like and he never wants to taste anything else. "I want everything with you."

Evander doesn't respond to that, and Robb pulls back to look at him, worried he might have read the last several years wrong. But Ev's eyes are simply wide with wonder and surprise, a pink flush staining his cheeks, and Robb grins. "Usually you're so quick to flirt with people who tell you they want you."

Evander swallows hard, his hands tugging Robb closer. The press of him against Evander's rapidly hardening cock makes Evan inhale sharply. "Those people aren't usually you."

Robb simply hums and starts tugging at Evan's shirt. Impatiently -- which he can be forgiven for, Evan thinks, since this is something he's wanted for so long -- Evander pulls off his shirt and tosses it aside, then reaches for Robb's shirt. There will be time for slow undressing later -- and there will be a later, Evander doesn't think he'll ever be able to go without this again.

He steps back and his eyes rake over Robb's bare chest, catching on the arrow scars and the dusting of auburn hair and the way his muscles twitch under the weight of Evan's gaze. There's a trail of auburn drawing Evander's eyes lower and lower until it disappears into Robb's breeches, where a sizable bulge is growing. Evander's breeches grow uncomfortably tight. With some difficulty, Evan drags his eyes back up to Robb's, and surges forward again to kiss the smirk off his lips. "Fuck," Evan breathes into Robb’s mouth. "Fuck, you're perfect, fuck me."

"That's the idea," Robb teases. Evan bites at his lower lip for it. The sound Robb makes -- a soft, breathy moan -- is one Evan wants to hear again and again.

He walks Robb backwards towards the bed, following the man down and blanketing Robb's body with his own. His hips settle against Robb's, the pressure sending delicious sparks up his spine. Robb's hands roam over Evan's torso, like he can't quite decide where to hold, like he has to touch as much of Evander's skin as possible. Evander has one of his hands buried in Robb's hair, tilting his head up to kiss him deeper, and his other trails down Robb's side and skirts along his waistband, unlacing his breeches.

Evan breaks away and presses his forehead to Robb's. "Have you ever...?"

His voice is rough with want and Robb feels it in his bones. He shakes his head. "No, no, I've never... there's been no one since Talisa."

Evander sits back on his heels, and Robb is momentarily distracted by the outline of Evander's cock straining against the fabric of his pants. Then he sees the raised brows.

"You've not been with anyone for nearly three years?" Evander asks. Robb can't stop the heat from rising to his face.

"I realized how I felt about you and I didn't want anyone else," he mutters petulantly. "And I haven't been, y'know, celibate. My hand worked just fine."

Evander's laugh is warm and teasing. "Yeah? Did it?" His fingers slip inside Robb's breeches and brush against his cock. "No one else could live up to me, huh?"

"Fuck," Robb groans, his hips jerking into Evan's touch. "Yes, okay? You're the only one I wanted to even think about." Evan's eyes are sparkling in pleased amusement and Robb rolls his eyes. "Can you stop being so smug and fucking kiss me again?"

"Impatient," Evander teases, but he leans down and kisses Robb. Evan slides a thigh up against Robb’s cock, and grins when Robb moans into his mouth at the sweet pressure. When they break apart for air, Evander trails hot, open-mouthed kisses down Robb's neck and chest -- pressing careful kisses and fingertips against the scars neither of them want to talk about -- swirling his tongue around a nipple and smirking against Robb’s skin at the way it makes him gasp and arch up.

He follows the trail of hair over Robb's abs, down to the waistband of Robb's breeches, and hooks his fingers into it, looking up at Robb with a heated smirk.

"You have no idea how many times I've dreamed of this," he breathes.

Robb is propped up on his elbows to watch Evan, and he raises an eyebrow. "Am I a frequent star in your dreams?"

Evan snorts. "Please. You've been the only star in my dreams since we were, hm, fourteen?"

"Really?"

"Mhm. You insisted we practice kissing with each other, and I've been lost on you ever since." He hums consideringly, tugging at Robb's breeches and following them down with feather-light kisses along Robb's legs. "Not as though I wasn't completely in love with you before that."

Robb might say something in response to that, but if he does Evander doesn't hear him, his focus fully on the cock in front of his eyes -- as pretty as the rest of Robb. Blessed by the gods, this one, Evan muses silently. Robb's cock is nestled in a patch of dark red curls, long and curved just slightly, the tip flushed a dark pink color and leaking steadily. Evander wants to feel the weight of him on his tongue. He leans forward, arms wrapped around Robb's thighs, and takes his cock into his mouth. The surprised curse and the bucking of Robb's hips send heat rushing through Evan's veins, and he hums as he works his mouth over Robb. Every sound he gets from Robb makes his blood sing.

"Ev-- fuck!" Robb's voice is a drawn out moan and Evan groans as Robb's hands tangle in Evan's hair. "You're fucking... you're going to kill me."

Evan pulls off and grins teasingly. "You want me to stop?"

Robb's hands tighten in Evander's hair like he’s barely holding back from pushing Evan's head back down himself. "No!"

"Wasn't actually going to," Evander answers, and nips at the inside of Robb's thigh. "I'm enjoying myself." He takes Robb back in his mouth, pressing his tongue along the vein. He tightens his grip around Robb's thighs and presses Robb's hips into the bed as the other man starts to lose control and tries to buck up into Evan's mouth.

Robb pulls Evander up as soon as he feels himself get close. "Wait, wait, wait."

"What? What's wrong?" The frown on Evander's face is adorable and Robb shakes his head to keep himself from getting distracted.

"Nothing, nothing, you're amazing, I just..." He swallows, feeling heat creep up his neck. "I'm close--"

"That's generally a good thing," Evander points out, nuzzling against Robb’s thigh.

"-- and I want..." Robb trails off, distracted by Evander's mouth kissing bruises into his skin. He guides Evan up to kiss him properly, and flips them so that he's straddling Evander's hips. "I want you." Then he frowns, a hint of a pout entering his voice. "And you're not even naked yet!"

"Robb, love," Evander half sits up, hands landing on Robb's hips, "you can have me whenever you want. And we have hours before anyone is going to wonder where you dragged me off to."

Robb shudders in Evan's lap at the easy way the endearment falls from his lips, like he’s just been waiting to say it their whole lives. He runs his tongue along Evander's bare collarbone and lets his hands fall to the laces of his breeches and tug them loose. He slips his hand inside and wraps his fingers around the hot thick length, stroking long and slow. Evander's head falls forward to rest against Robb’s chest, and his groan is quite possibly the best thing Robb's ever heard. "I think I've been very patient, Ev, come on. Off."

"Has anyone ever told you you're a little bit bossy?"

"Yes. You. Multiple times." Robb reluctantly lets go of Evander's cock and slides off his best friend's lap. "Are you going to get naked for your king or not?"

"Mm, as you wish, my king," is Evander's response, practically purred in Robb's ear, and oh, that should not send heat racing through his blood the way it does. Robb watches transfixed as Evan stands up and shucks off his breeches. His mouth waters -- and it isn't as though Robb's never seen Evan naked before. He's known Evan since they were six years old, he's seen Evan naked plenty, but Evander naked and aroused and looking at Robb with eyes blown wide on desire?? The flickering fire makes Evander look like he is dripping in golden light, the darkened blue of his eyes all the more striking for it. Robb has the fleeting thought that he's somehow caught hold of something holy, and then all thoughts leave his mind as Evander straightens up again and Robb is met with the full force of Evander Bolton's good looks. Suddenly he understands all the serving girls who bat their eyes at Evander, feels like every girl he's caught stumbling from Evander's chambers in the dead of night, all wide-eyed, giggling and blushing -- Evander is... generously endowed, his cock long and thick, flushed and jutting out from a patch of neatly trimmed dark brown hair. Evander is everything Robb's wanted since the moment he realized how he felt.

Evan climbs back onto the bed and straddles Robb, and the press of their bare cocks sends lightning up Robb's spine.  Evan wraps a hand around them both, stroking slowly as Robb pants against his shoulder. Robb lets his hands wander down Evan's chest, sliding around to cup his ass -- warm and firm under Robb's hands, filling his palms perfectly. He wants to watch Evan fall apart on his cock. Blindly, Robb reaches out to fumble in the bedside table for the little jar of oil.

"You just have that on hand?"

Robb nods, pressing up into the hand Evan has on his cock. "I told you. My hand worked just fine. And I... I wanted to know what it might feel like to have you fuck me."

"Fuck, how are you real?" Evander breathes, and leans in to kiss Robb again, both hands cradling Robb's face.

Robb grins into the kiss and flips them over, trailing his slick fingers over Evan's cock and down to press and circle the tight pucker of his ass gently. Evan inhales on a soft gasp.

"I thought you wanted...?"

"I do," Robb cuts him off, nipping little kisses along the column of Evander's throat. He gently presses the tip of one slick finger into Evan, relishing in the soft moan and the tight heat. "But you know... we have time, right?" Evan hums agreeingly and Robb can feel the vibration against his lips. "And you looked... with the baby... I wanna put one in you." Evander's hips jerk at Robb's words, making the man grin. "You like that idea? For me to fuck you full of my pups?"

Evander groans. "Physically impossible."

"Mm. No harm in trying, though, right?" Robb considers Evan for a moment, then slowly presses in a second oil-slick finger.

"Fuck," Evander breathes, head tilted back and eyes closing. "Thought you said you'd never done this before?"

Robb hums and swirls his tongue over Evan's nipple. Unlike Robb's own chest, Evander's is clean shaven and soft under Robb's mouth. "I, uh, I went to a brothel in the Riverlands after I realized I loved you. I wanted to, y'know, know how it all works, being with another man. I couldn't make myself actually do anything with any of the men there, but I got the general idea. I didn't want to disappoint you if I ever got to have you in my bed."

"First off, you're adorable and I love you. Second, you could never," Evander's voice breaks off on a moan as Robb experimentally crooks his fingers, "fuck, never disappoint me." He reaches up and pulls Robb into a kiss, rocking his hips, fucking himself on Robb's fingers. "It's good enough. I want your cock."

Robb's brow furrows as he withdraws his hand. "You sure? I don't wanna hurt you."

"Robb." Evander pulls back to look him in the eye. "Fuck me."

When Robb hesitates again, Evander huffs and takes things into his own hands. He twists and flips them, straddling Robb's thighs. One hand braces against Robb’s chest while the other coats Robb's cock in oil and holds it steady as Evander sinks down onto it.

Robb's fantasies of what Evander might feel like wrapped around him come nowhere close to the real thing. Robb's hands are tight on Evan's hips, eyes wide and locked on the pleasure contorting his features as Robb's cock slowly disappears inch by inch. Evan is tight, and hot, and slick from the oil, and a moan tears from Robb's throat at the exquisite feeling. Watching Evander's thighs flex as he rides Robb makes want spark up Robb's spine, and Robb is so overwhelmed by sensation that he can't do much more than lay there and try and fail to keep his hips from bucking upwards into Evan.

"Oh gods, Ev, you feel..." Robb's voice is hoarse and heated, and his hands tighten on Evander's hips. "Fuck."

Evan smirks, and leans down, his hand sliding up to cup Robb's neck. "Better than your hand?"

"So much better," Robb breathes.

The next rise and fall of Evander's hips changes the angle and Robb watches in awe as Evan's cock jumps, a beautiful moan sounding in Robb's ear. Robb's hips stutter as Evan clenches around him. It's a gorgeous reaction, and Robb thrusts upward in the same angle to see it again and again. The repeated clenching proves too much for Robb to take, and with a soft groan of Evan's name, he comes, hard.

"Oh, you're pretty when you come," Evan says wonderingly. He's still moving on Robb's cock, albeit slower, and Robb reaches out, wrapping a hand around his steadily leaking cock. A few firm strokes later sees Evan spilling over Robb's hand and stomach. Robb decides the way Evan moans as he comes is his new favorite sound.

"Fuck," Evan huffs as his chest heaves, bracing his hands on either side of Robb's head as he comes down from his high. There are dark splotches of purple-red in the shape of Robb's mouth blooming over the pale skin of Evan's throat, and the sight of them sends a possessive thrill through Robb -- everyone is going to know Ev is Robb's. "That was perfect."

"You're so fucking beautiful," Robb tells him, sitting up a little to reach Evan's mouth. Evander's face pinks, and Robb breathes a laugh. "I haven't seen you blush in years. I like it."

Evander shakes his head and kisses Robb's cheek as he moves off of Robb's lap. "You would be smug about that."

Robb watches as Evan walks across the room to the washbasin -- his eyes, as they always do, catch on the scars crisscrossing Evander's back, and the familiar anger at Evan's brother flares in his gut. It's quickly replaced by the simmer of desire as Robb's eyes trail lower to watch Evander's ass as he walks. Idly, he swirls his fingers across his abs, through Evan's come. "The man I love is gorgeous. What's not to be smug about?"

Because he's watching Evan, he sees the way Evan reacts -- the stutter in his step, the way the blush deepens, the way a small pleased smile comes to his lips. Robb is inordinately pleased by this reaction -- Evan is so suave the rest of the time, flirting as easily as breathing with everyone, that to be able to affect him like this makes pride and warmth curl around Robb's heart.

Evander is gentle about cleaning them both off, and the second he finishes, Robb takes the cloth and tosses it somewhere. He pulls Evander back into the bed, delighting in the amused laugh Evander gives as Robb kisses him and wraps his body around Evan's. Robb's head tucks under Evan's like he was made to fit there, his leg thrown over Evan's waist. His hand traces idle patterns on Ev's chest, a pleased little hum escaping him as Evan kisses his temple and threads a hand into his hair. Evander's other hand trails up and down Robb's thigh. Evan is warm, and his heart beats steady and reassuring under Robb's ear, and Robb finds himself melting into Evander, vulnerable in a way he never could be with Talisa -- if something should happen, he knows well how far Evan would go to keep him safe. Soon enough he feels his eyelids grow heavy. He fights it, not wanting to wake up and find out he'd been dreaming again.

But Evander knows Robb better than Robb knows himself, and he pulls the furs up and over them. Robb feels more than hears Evan chuckle, and he kisses the top of Robb's head. "Sleep, love. I'll still be here when you wake."

Contentment and the lull of sated desire tug Robb under, and he falls asleep to the sound of Evan's heartbeat and the feel of his hand stroking through Robb's hair.

[ink-wells-and-feathers]

unpopular opinion but I really like the adventure zone. the first DND podcast I ever listened to was Taz Balance. I fell in love with it instantly. it was funny and silly and told a good story while being easy to follow for someone like me who didn't know how to play before hand. I learned how to play alongside the players and liked the goofs. it's what got me back into fanfiction writing and part of what gave me the courage to start actually posting them for people to read.

I've always had a hyperfixation on cryptozoology as long as I can remember and so amnesty caught my attention quickly. I love the chaos of it and apparently it's unpopular but I really loved Aubrey too. all of the players were great but apparently it's unpopular to like Aubrey and all Travis's characters in general. and Travis in general but I love Travis, his humor is exactly mine and Aubrey and Magnus are still on par with my favorites. I went as Arlo Thacker and Indrid Cold to the Halloween parties I had this year.

the first character I ever cosplayed was Magnus Burnsides and I got my partner to cosplay Taako. it was the first one and inspired a lot more creativity in me.

I love the graphic novels. I own all of them except for the eleventh hour because I can't afford it yet but I've read all of them they're all really well drawn and the story is amazing as always. all of them and all arcs of every campaign have made me cry easily. they're all that beautiful

finally I really really really liked graduation. I love Fitzroy. everything about crab boy magic man makes me happy. I like Rainer and her wheelchair, as someone who needs a wheelchair (but can't afford one rip american healthcare) it's nice to see and I also like that it's brought up in a jokey way when we first meet her. because it wasn't pity or anything. it was very in character for her. I like that we meet so many people up front because that's what it feels like when you move schools. there's so much new to the point of being overwhelming. I LOVE FIRBY AND HIS NO NAME!!!

I see so much hate towards taz and specifically towards Travis and I just can't understand it. also why expend your energy towards something you don't enjoy. just let people like things.

[ink-wells-and-feathers]

I feel like Dndads Tumblr needs to get a hold of this post

[splashinkling]

Last Sentence Tag

thanks for the tag (from a while back) @notwritinganyflufftoday!

had a pretty enjoyable time trying to write today, so here's 1 sentence lol

Rules: post the last sentence you wrote in your WIP and tag as many of your followers as there are words in the sentence.

“Man, I don’t think I can kill you after all.”

that's 10 tags, let's get tagging (no pressure):

@moonluringfrost, @aalinaaaaaa, @sleepy-night-child, @oh-no-another-idea, @talesfromaurea, @drippingmoon, @ashen-crest, @hallwriteblr, @emberlyric, and you, whoever's reading this!