#Young Animator Training Project

[doyouknowthisanime]

Do You Know This Anime?

[uefb]

Falling in love, again, with more OCs 🤷🏼

Yesterday my wife saw the color-coded post-it note tabs in one of my Fantastic Beast companion books and was like, “Can you make your next hyperfixation or special interest housekeeping?” and at first I almost walloped her, because rude, and then she quickly explained, “I’m just saying, in a perfect world where we could funnel your ridiculous ability to obtain and organize massive amounts of information into exactly what we needed, our house would be immaculate” and I was like “yes ma’am, and unfortunately they’re disorders for a reason”

We both had a good laugh. I then posted a fic I’d been working on, confident I’d be able to switch my brain back to another longtime interest (my research) after getting the current FB plot bunny out of my head…

And yet, less than 24 hours later, I’ve started another one. This is exhausting. Make it stop lmao. But 1969 Newt & his 18-year-old son are extremely humorous to me, so whatever

[kanon-xx]

Akane Matsumoto from Aki no Kanade 

[meiieiri]

𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐩 [toji fushiguro]

synopsis: toji will never forget the first night he spent away from the zenin clan and the day he met you.

pairing: toji fushiguro x f!reader | song inspo: saw you in a dream, timeless | hidden inventory: the lost tapes series masterlist

warnings: mentions of emotional abuse but generally pretty much a fluff fic where toji and y/n meet for the first time. | a/n: finally launching my little love project called “hidden inventory: the lost tapes”! 🍒

Now isn’t this just perfect?

Toji’s is just one inconvenience away from just going back to the Zenin clan with his tail between his legs. First, he underestimates just how expensive living in Tokyo is so, with what little pocket money his emotionally distant mother gave him before he left the estate, the first thing he does is spend it all on a girl — in broad daylight — he’s heard his brother, Jinichi, talk about those cute little call girls that crawl the streets of Kabukichō with flyers in their hand for thirty-minute “massages”. Naturally, as a young man who is only first experiencing the carnal joys the city has to offer, Toji was curious and he took the bait.

A bait that cost him ¥30,000 and the girl was unfortunately sloppy at best.

Now, he doesn’t have money to buy so much as a soggy red bean pancake for dinner. He doesn’t know how long he’s been walking around this dingy part of Shinjuku but as long as the red light district’s trashy ambience is distracting him from the growling of his stomach, then, he’ll stumble around this hellhole until morning.

“Ha! You won’t even last two minutes out there!” That’s what Naobito Zenin, the head of the clan said to him when he left. “Only two things await you when you get out of here, either you’ll die hungry or a cursed spirit will get to you first — either way, you’ll die with your eyes wide open with no one!”

Overrun by his thoughts, Toji doesn’t even notice that he accidentally intruded on a random cockroach and curse-infested alleyway that apparently belonged to some junkie who is now angrily telling him to get lost. “I was just looking for a place to sit down,” Toji scoffs. Weren’t they both bottom feeders in this city? Why was this rancid-smelling meth addict acting like he’s any better than him?

“Well, go sit somewhere else, this place is off-limits!”

It was almost funny how Toji thought that the world beyond the gates of the Zenin estate was any better than the shit show he was born into.

He should have known better than to be enticed by the glitz and glamour of living independently from his abusive family who at least had the decency to feed him maggoty rice from the estate’s second storehouse dedicated to prepare the animals’ food. They also gave him shelter, of course, he’s had to live in the Zenin estate’s shed for a while now since his father discovered he was born useless without an ounce of cursed energy. But at least he was warm, and the termites made him feel less lonely.

He continues on in his aimless quest. The night is still young. There’s plenty of time for self-depreciating introspection.

Hopefully, that grade three cursed spirit that’s been following him around the block for a while now gets to him first before the rain does.

“That guy over there,” your coworker whispers to you from the cash registers. “He’s been there for a while now and he hasn’t ordered anything.”

You look up from your pocketbook, your eyes curiously trained on the rugged looking man whose eyes were downcast, trained on the service water he requested from the counter when he came in. As if he could feel a pair of eyes on him, he looks up, and glances your way for a bit but you quickly hide your face behind your book.

“He kinda looks like trouble, no? Shady too, just look at the scar on his lip…”

“It’s not fair to judge someone like that, Rika-chan,” you whispered to your junior, turning to arrange the menus, painstakingly wiping each one clean with a cloth dampened with sanitizer. A small smirk appears on Toji’s lips at your passive defense of his character and as if to goad you on, he drums his fingertips against the table daring you to say another word. “Anyway, I’ll handle closing the shop tonight. You need to get home since you have class in a few hours.”

That seemed sudden. Rika looks at you funnily before shrugging off her apron in favor of her raincoat. “Well, alright, if you insist. Should I clean up the kitchen at least?”

“I’ll handle it,” you give her a thumbs up, waving her goodbye as she leaves through the backdoor. Now that you’re alone, you could hardly stop yourself from glancing at the mysterious man, and Toji himself wonders if his presence here is starting to turn into a nuisance. You were probably waiting for him to step out so you could close shop for the night but it’s raining hard right now and there are no other places open nearby to take shelter in.

The chair’s feet screeches against the wooden floorboards and you head to the restaurant’s kitchen. Toji stares at your retreating form, looks like he overstayed his welcome. He searches around for a few coins to give to you for your hospitality, of course, it probably doesn’t mean jack shit, but you must have known he didn’t have enough money for a meal when he came in here. You would have realized that immediately. But you allowed him to stay regardless.

You return a couple of minutes later with a bowl miso soup with ginger pork gyoza and shredded cabbages. You set the bowl down in front of him and Toji is thoroughly taken aback, he looks at you dumbfounded. “I don’t have any money,” his voice comes out a little gruffly but you barely flinch at the sharp edge of his tone.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Refilling his water, you explained that while you could have easily stuffed those leftovers back in the freezer, customers wouldn’t want to eat frozen food, so, you decide to heat these items up to give to him instead. “Oh,” Toji answers a little dumbly. “Or you could have thrown them out.” He stares at the sumptuous meal in front of him. Even in the Zenin estate, he never had such good food laid out in front of him before and it was surreal to see a stranger do the things his family should have done for him.

You return to the counter, leaning on your forearms as you engage in light banter with him. “You’re saying I should feed rats over people?” you chuckled, sitting back down, smiling softly when Toji gingerly bringing the bowl of miso soup to his lips, the rich earthy broth warming his throat that he lets out a content sigh.

He smirks at your little remark. “I’m saying you shouldn’t make a habit of feeding strays.” He polishes his soup bowl clean within minutes and you have to remind him to slow down every now and then as you watched him eat ravenously. “You never know when you could get that dainty hand of yours bitten off.”

You blushed pink at that. He was right, being too generous could cost you dearly one day but being the altruistic soul that you are, you’ll probably continue to be graciously selfless despite the risk of being taken advantage of. It’s just how you are as a person who believes that a little kindness can make the world better than it was yesterday. “I…don’t really know about that…whether I get bitten or not by the people I help isn’t really something I can control. The world would be better off if people just learned to be kind to one another.”

Toji hums at your naive countenance, folding his arms over the table. The room is silent for a few minutes save for the occasional rumble of thunder in the distance. “You’re kinda dumb, aren’t ya?”

“And you’re a pessimist,” you answered, quirking an amused eyebrow at him. “Who doesn’t even know how to say thank you.” You stand up to clear out the table, a teasing glint in your eyes as your curious orbs collide.

Toji scoffs, leaning against his seat, crossing his legs. At his reluctance, you shake your head, giggling softly. What an infuriating interesting guy. Toji hears the rushing of tap water from behind the counter and he smiles inwardly. The rain begins to slowly stop and he takes this window of opportunity to leave.

You don’t even try to hide your disappointment when you come back to the dining room only to find it empty, the stranger having left nothing in his wake — not a goodbye, not a thank you, and certainly not his name — except a single rusty five yen coin on the table.

Clang-dong!

“Hello, welcome—“ You stop mid-sentence. Your throat constricting with a mix of emotions, the most dominant one being joy at this happy chance, you’d recognize those sharp dark green eyes anywhere despite only first seeing them a week ago. After all, they looked so dangerously beautiful under the dim light of the dining room’s ceiling lampshade. “—back. Welcome back,” you smiled brightly at Toji.

Toji nods, his hand coming up to cover his lips as he coughs once. “Thanks…ah, right — shit, where is it?” After rummaging around his parachute jacket’s many pockets, he finally takes out his wallet and you look at him, bewildered, when he hands a few hundred yen bills to you. “For last week. Sorry I couldn’t pay you back then.”

“It’s fine.” You take his larger, calloused hand and return the money which Toji responds to by stubbornly placing it on the table.

Toji pinches the bridge of his nose when you playfully return the gesture by rolling it up and placing it in his jacket pocket, buttoning it. “Look, it was real nice of you to treat me back then, but I’m not a charity case, alright? I just wanna pay my dues.”

“Then, a simple ‘thank you’ is enough.” Toji just couldn’t understand you. You have absolutely no reason to be nice to him, but you are. For a moment, he begins to fall into the enticing thought that maybe life outside the Zenin estate won’t be too bad after all if there are people like you still around just waiting at random corners to be found in joyful happenstances such as waiting out a storm at a random family-style restaurant over a heartwarming serving of miso soup with tender pieces of gyoza and cabbage.

Relenting, he smirks at you, unable to figure you out. “Thank you.”

“Anyway, need a table for lunch?” you smiled warmly at him as you lead him to the table he sat in a week ago which you now affectionately refer to as ‘his’ table instead of table number four.

Toji nods following your lead and chuckling when you hand him the menu. “Where’s that thing I had last time?“ he oddly flips through the booklet.

“Oh uh…it’s not on the menu actually, but I could make that for you if you’d like.”

“Sounds good.” Toji hands you back the menu. You are just about to scurry away to the kitchen when he calls out to you. “So, do you have a name or should I just keep referring to you as gyoza girl or something?” Embarrassed at the way your knees seem to become weak at his boyish grin, you have to take a few deep breaths before turning around to face him again. “I’m Toji.”

He doesn’t say his last name. He doesn’t feel the need to anymore now that he’s finally closing the door to his past. You nod, noting how the name suited him. It’s brief but strong, muted but loud in its rhythm. Toji. At that moment, you find it impossible to name a prettier sound. After a few excruciating minutes in the kitchen, you come back out with two bowls of miso soup this time around and you sit down on the chair directly in front of him.

“Y/N.”

Toji repeats the melody of your name in his head. “And how much do I owe ya for this, Y/N?”

You shrugged as the two of you dig in, your hand coming up to cover your mouth as you chew the steamed gyoza, joining him as he laughs (well, he’s scoffing more than actually laughing, really), his eyes alight with wonder, when you simply say, “Five yen.”

[autismswagsummit]

The Bracket has been set!

This year's competitor pool is hot, with 23 returning competitors and 41 new appearances. In Round 1, the matches will be broken up into 4 waves, divided by the quadrants displayed on the bracket. The matches will all be listed below the cut, for everyone's reference.

SIDE A, PART 1

Donatello Hamato (Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles) v.s L Lawliet (Death Note)

Mary Anta (Cemetery Mary) v.s Rui Kamishiro (Project Sekai)

Izuku Midoriya (My Hero Academia) v.s Branch (Dreamworks Trolls)

Snufkin (Moominvalley) v.s Futaba Sakura (Persona 5)

Gordon Freeman (Half Life) v.s Sherlock Holmes (Sherlock Holmes)

Blathers (Animal Crossing) v.s Princess Bubblegum (Adventure Time)

Jonathan Sims (The Magnus Archives) v.s Zane (Lego Ninjago)

Tomoko Kuroki (Watamote) v.s Cloud Strife (Final Fantasy 7)

SIDE A, PART 2

Frieren (Sousou no Frieren) v.s Papyrus (Undertale)

Tech (Star Wars: The Bad Batch) v.s Ferb Fletcher (Phineas & Ferb)

Stanford Pines (Gravity Falls) v.s Twilight Sparkle (My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic)

Berdly (Deltarune) v.s Gregory House (House M.D)

Data (Star Trek) v.s Idia Shroud (Twisted Wonderland)

Peridot (Steven Universe) v.s Penny Polendina (RWBY)

Sig (Puyo Puyo) v.s Marcy Wu (Amphibia)

Jotaro Kujo (Jojo's Bizarre Adventure) v.s Miles Edgeworth (Ace Attorney)

SIDE B, PART 1

Monkey D. Luffy (One Piece) v.s Alhaitham (Genshin Impact)

Laios Touden (Dungeon Meshi) v.s Iggy Maxwell (Our Wonderland)

Dendy (OK KO: Let's Be Heroes) v.s Gin Ibushi (Your Turn To Die)

Norma Khan (Dead End: Paranormal Park) v.s Link (The Legend of Zelda)

Starfire (Teen Titans) v.s Luz Noceda (The Owl House)

Siffrin (In Stars And Time) v.s Huey Duck (Ducktales 2017)

Lilo Pelekai (Lilo & Stitch) v.s Saiki Kusuo (The Disastrous Life of Saiki K.)

Woo Young Woo (Extraordinary Attorney Woo) v.s Miles "Tails" Prower (Sonic the Hedgehog)

SIDE B, PART 2

Razputin Aquato (Psychonauts) v.s Linhardt von Hevring (Fire Emblem Three Houses)

Ranpo Edogawa (Bungou Stray Dogs) v.s Entrapta (She-Ra and the Princesses of Power)

Murderbot (The Murderbot Diaries) v.s Kieran (Pokemon Scarlet & Violet)

Twyla Boogeyman (Monster High) v.s Marina Ida (Splatoon)

Hiccup Haddock (How To Train Your Dragon) v.s Batman (DC Comics)

Abed Nadir (Community) v.s Red Son (Lego Monkie Kid)

Uzi Doorman (Murder Drones) v.s Bingo Heeler (Bluey)

Gillion Tidestrider (Just Roll With It) v.s Spongebob Squarepants (Spongebob Squarepants)

[dcxdpdabbles]

DC x DP fic: Farm Hand

The Kents lived on their family farm for the past three generations. Ma and Pa had two perfectly able sons and a grandson who could help around the farm without trouble.

But with Clark living in the big city, caring for his job, family, and superhero, it was brutal to find time to fly home and help with the harvest. The same could be said about Jon, who struggled to keep up in school, and his training. Kon, who used to live at home, made things easier until the boy moved out with his long-time boyfriend, Tim Drake.

They could never deny him the chance of love, and Tim was a delight- despite his unwillingness to move out of Gotham. Kon had been so bestowed he was fine living in the old Drake Manor with Tim, even if he also wrinkled his nose at the crime city like a true metropolitan.

Now, the three could fly over when their superhero or civilian lives were not getting in the way, but Ma and Pa felt bad calling them back when all three had outgrown the farm. Maybe Clark would return when he retired to take it over, or Kon.

The thing was, the couple was getting up there in age. They couldn't handle everything on their own anymore. So Pa put out an ad for a farm hand in the local newspaper. They wanted someone who would be willing to live on the farm year-round and could help around with the animals and harvests.

They refrained from telling their sons until they had someone hired. It would be easier for the two to understand a farm hand needed to be hired after it happened so they couldn't try to stop them. The ad ran for a month without a single applicant. Likely due to few reading the newspaper, until one stormy night, a young man came to their door. Clutching the ad to his chest, dressed in oversized clothes, and carrying two large bags. Obviously homeless.

Ma looked at the boy, with the dark circle under his eyes, the thin frame, and the hopeless eyes, before she deemed him a perfect fit. Pa knew she only wanted to help the young man instead of his abilities on the farm, but he didn't call her out on it.

He seemed to be around Kon's age, and a part of his heartache to see someone who looked so young seemed just as lost as a recently made clone. They had him settled in an old guest room, fed him a warm dinner, and had the boy off to bed after a shower.

The following day Pa walked him around the farm, explaining his duties. The boy remained in an eerie silence through it all, but he seemed to pay as much attention as possible to the explanation. By the third day, he could handle his work like he was raised alongside Clark.

The farm helped fit in, getting all his duties done so Pa and Ma had a little more free time. Ma filled that time with crocheting more projects, and Pa took wood sculpting. They quickly became attached to the boy, as over time, he slowly regained weight, and more light returned to his eyes.

Before they knew it seven weeks had passed since he was hired. Now the Kents knew that their farm hand was running from something. He seemed jumpy and unsure about himself often, and Pa noticed the boy shrink in on himself whenever someone got too close. He was an obvious runaway.

The Kents didn't mind, though, seeing as they forged adoption papers for Clark, and while Pa had a lovely family growing up, Ma had been raised in the system. She knew how terrible of a place it really was. She would always try everything else before calling the dogs of CPS.

The couple honestly felt like they had been given a new son, and so they may have forgotten to tell their real sons about him when Clark arrived for a visit with Lois, Jon, and Kon. Thankfully, the boy had been out in the corn field so he did not see the three men flying with Lois in Clark's arms.

"Who is that?" Jon asks, peeking out the back window, watching a stranger fires up the tractor.

"That's Danny Fenton," Ma says with a smile "A sweet thing, that's going to be living with us as a farm hand."

"Is that safe?" Kon questions. "What do you two know about him?"

"I know he's a hard worker who needs a place to rest," Pa answers with a frown. He gives his youngest a stern stare. "We are very grateful he's here."

"Ma, Pa....are you two aware this Danny doesn't have a heartbeat?" Clark asks slowly.

Ma raises a brow "Why, of course. You aren't the only investigator in the family. We looked into his background when we hired him. Danny Fenton has been declared dead for about two years now. He shouldn't have a heartbeat."

"You hired a zombie," Jon whispered in awe.

Pa smiles without any joy, alarming everyone but Ma. "No, we hired a ghost. Want to know his case of death? His parents were in the middle vivisecting him when his sister had the police break down the door. His godfather paid the parents' bond, and he attempted to gain Danny's custody in the same hour. Thankfully Danny died on the hospital table, so he wasn't turned over to them."

There is dead silence in the house before Lois clears her throat. "Well, it's a good thing Danny Fenton is no longer suffering. Now, Ma, Pa, It's come to my understanding you found another son? I am overjoyed to meet my new in-law. What's his name again?"

"Why, dear, it's Danny Kent," Ma responds with a blinding smile." "He's out back. I was just about to bring him something to drink."

"I'll call Bruce while you meet him," Clark says, tapping away on his phone. "We need to have Danny Kent's paper trail ready before Christmas. I hate to see my brother have a hard time at the holidays"

"I'll call Damian too! He likes to hurt people and the Fentons deserve to be hurt!" Jon chirps, floating off the ground a bit before Kon places his hand on his head and yanks him back down.

Unknown to the family of supers, there is a fourth person with super hearing. Danny blinks away the tears as he turns the tractor down the smooth straight lines Pa showed him to make. Maybe answering the ad that he had been using to keep warm at night was the best thing he's ever done.

He wonders what Jazz is up to and if the Kents would be alright with asking his sister to visit for the holidays.

[swampjawn]

Character Acting > Action Sakuga (sometimes)

There's nothing like a sudden burst of 24-fps action sakuga insanery to convince people that the animation in a show is good,

but Dungeon Meshi Episode 23 shows that attention to detail in the subtler character acting moments can be just as, if not more important to telling a compelling story because while there is some great action animation too, the most crucial moment in the episode is a dwarf eating some soup:

This bit is done by the mysterious animator just credited as "Haruki," also known as Haruki Sakamoto, another relatively young talent like Ichigo Kanno, and in fact the two apparently studied together and collaborated on this project as students:

Haruki trained at Kyoto Animation and you can see the influence plainly in his style which, much unlike the flashy, snappy, grandiose style of his friend Ichigo Kanno, is characterized by very smooth motion and attention to realistic detail in nuances that might otherwise go overlooked.

Even starting from the anticipation (and here I mean that in the normal sense, not the technical animation sense) the attention to detail is on point from the incredibly consistent shapes of the spoon and bowl which each rotate toward and away from the camera, to the subtle rotation of his head not only when he actually lifts the spoon to his mouth, but also even earlier as he brings the bowl up to his face, to the little half blink as his expression goes from worry to determination, there's SO much nuance in the series of facial expressions

Senshi has generally been depicted as the most cartoony of the bunch; a stoic but goofy little teddy bear who's often silent and almost always has almost his entire face obscured, so it's all the more powerful to see his face with so much detail and expression in this cathartic, emotional moment that finally solidifies this group as his new family.

And there's more where that came from, you sick fuck. This post is an excerpt from this video where I broke down the whole episode, so go watch it!

[hedgehog-moss]

I know your blog focuses on Pampe, professional criminelid, but you’ve been focusing on your new garden (and you should rightfully be proud of it). Um, so what’s stopping your animals from munching on the fruits of your labor?

The beautiful fence that I built!!

My vegetable garden is outside the pasture, but I've left a door in the fence just in front of it so I can let the animals out sometimes to weed the area (under close supervision). You can see the opening in this pic:

My fence has been such a success btw <3 I know it doesn't sound like it because there are still occasional llama escapes, but that's because I've only built the Ultimate Anti-Pampe Fence along 2 sides of the pasture (which is roughly triangle-shaped). It took me two years to finish it but since completion it's never been outsmarted! The only time Pampe got through this fence was after a boar had boared his way through it first, which is not my poor fence's fault. It was designed to be Pampe-proof not everything-proof. And I refuse to count an instance of Pampe escaping through a hole made by a wild animal as Pampe defeating my fence, unless she can provide evidence of having personally set up a secret programme training boars for this job.

The problematic side of the pasture is the hypotenuse which still has the old, non-Pampe-proof fence left by the former owners—so the few times she escaped in the past year, it was from there. I've been playing the long game because there are lots of hazel trees growing there and they grow quite fast, so I'd like to fence this side with a hazel hedgerow. Pampe has so far never escaped through the (still-growing) hazel fence, not even in winter when it's leafless! However there are several Danger Points—gaps in the hedgerow here and there. I've been planting different kinds of flowering shrubs or evergreen hedge plants in these gaps to close them but this fencing method takes time. Especially since Pirlouit often tries to eat my living fence while it's still young. It's a fun project though; by now the woman at the plant nursery is used to me showing up asking for a new anti-llama plant for my hedge. Here's one of the gaps I'm trying to fill:

I have also been thwarted in my efforts to obtain a living fence two years in a row, by the city hall guy who trims roadside trees—he kept trimming my hazel hedgerow so it was like 1m50, and I kept desperately reminding him that it needs to be much taller. The next year he trimmed it so it was 1m70 and I was like, no. I need it to be taller. You know my llama. He was like, okay, how tall? Just tell me and I'll trim it at the height you want. I said, one hundred metres tall I don't know, she gets smarter every year! By the time she learns how to fly I need my hedge to be visible from space!

He no longer trims these hazel trees.

If I were a tour guide in a sightseeing bus I would be like, on your right ladies and gentlemen is a normal hedgerow bordering a cow pasture; on your left is the Great Anti-Pampe Wall. Kindly do not throw your chewing-gums over the hedge she might use them as suction cups to attempt the climb.

[kopykunoichi]

Refresher for the people still confused about this...

In a galaxy far, far away, EVERYONE has midi-chlorians in their blood. The Force resides in all living things. It binds the whole galaxy together. Midi-chlorians are what allow beings to commune with the Force. The more midi-chlorians you have, the more potential you have to RESPOND TO and WIELD the Force. But notice that Asajj couches her statement with the line that those with a higher m-count were "believed" to be more capable of wielding the Force. There's a correlation, but it's not necessarily the only factor (see Sabine Wren).

This is the moment where the clones literally become stand-ins for the fans.

"What? If you can use the Force, you're a Jedi!"

No. If you can use the Force, you can use the Force. To use it as a Jedi uses it, you have to train as a Jedi. To use it as a Sith uses it, you have to train as a Sith. To use it like a Nightsister, you have to train as a Nightsister. Or you can get some rudimentary instruction and decide how you want to use it.

Jango Fett didn't have a high m-count, so his clones didn't either. But Omega and the rest of the Batch were special cases. As Cut said, the Kaminoans create with a purpose. Their deviations were intentional. Hunters abilities have always suggested he had a higher m-count than the others. But Omega's ability to perceive things before they happen (her bad feelings are nearly always spot on) and her affinity with animals have always been hints that her m-count is a little higher.

(Will update with screen grabs when I get them)

At the end of the episode, Omega asks Ventress if she has a high m-count.

Ventress: *looking at her nails* From what I've seen...no.

Omega: Then why is the Empire after me?

Ventress: Believe it or not, I don't know everything. But seeing as how a high m-count would make you a target, consider yourself lucky.

Omega: But I'm already a target.

Wrecker: Don't worry about it, kid. We'll figure it out. C'mon, let's get some chow.

Omega: *sigh* Thanks for trying.

Once they're out of earshot...

Crosshair: You're lying.

Ventress: About which part?

Hunter: You tell us.

Ventress: If Omega did have that potential, she'd have to be trained. Which would mean leaving you behind.

Hunter: That's not happening.

Ventress: What you want is irrelevant. The fact is, the Empire is after her, and they won't stop. If I were you, I'd leave this place. You're not as safe as you think you are. Our business is done.

Crosshair: I still can't figure out which side you're on.

Ventress: My own.

Okay, so Ventress is clearly not telling the truth about the m-count, which we know, because we've already seen Omega's charts. I really don't understand why people keep taking Ventress at her word here. We know better, and so do Crosshair and Hunter. My guess is that she's trying to protect Omega because she knows firsthand what it's like to be taken from your family and trained as a young girl.

We know that when Omega was at Tantiss, she was receiving transfusions of blood with midi-chlorians the same as all the other clones (harvested from the dead Jedi they're undoubtedly holding in the vault). They were taking her blood samples, but Nala Se kept throwing them away because she knew Omega would retain the higher midi-chlorian levels and she didn't want Hemlock to know that. The Emperor needs a clone that will maintain a high m-count so he can eventually get himself a new body. We know he does get that body, but not for decades - presumably because a) he never gets Omega, and b) the Batch is gonna take the fight to them at Tantiss and blow up their entire supply of midi-chlorian donors. Think about it - they're still working on Project Necromancer in The Mandalorian (24 years after The Bad Batch), but their resources are severely limited. The Empire has been all but wiped out, the Emperor is hiding out on Exegol, Dr. Pershing is clearly no Hemlock since he keeps killing his test subjects, and Grogu seems to be the only m-count donor they can get their hands on. The Emperor's cloned body is also deteriorating rapidly in TRoS, which suggests that even 25 years after The Mandalorian, he STILL hasn't figured out the right formula for cloning himself (which is good news for Grogu and Omega).

Which brings us back to the question, "Is Omega Force sensitive?"

The answer is, "yes", she is sensitive to the Force due to her elevated m-count. We've seen this all along. Hunter most likely is, too, and maybe some of the other Bad Batchers, to varying degrees. Tech could riot race, which takes incredible reflexes. Hemlock said that Crosshair didn't have a high m-count, and we don't know where Wrecker's abilities stem from. Omega can't wield the Force because she is untrained, but the potential is there. A person's aptitude to wield the Force seems to be strongly correlated to their m-count, but we've seen others with low aptitude eventually open the door to the Force with years of training and a decent dose of impending doom (we see this clearly with Sabine in Ahsoka, but it was also a topic in Legends).

Omega being Force sensitive doesn't mean that she has to leave her brothers. She can choose to pursue her training or not. She'd also have to find someone willing to train her. I'm not convinced Ventress is looking to take on any apprentices at the moment, but she could possibly connect Omega to Quinlan Voss (imagine the trouble those two would get up to).

But I don't think Omega will choose that path. One, it would just make her a bigger target. Two, I don't see her prioritizing power over family. She's a clone, and clones are ALL about family. They're Mando coded, not Jedi coded. Screw the space Buddhist lifestyle - clones parade their attachments around like trophies. Omega goes around collecting attachments like most kids collect rocks..."Hello, stranger trying to kill me, let's be besties."

[thesuperiorrobin]

𝐀𝐧𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐥 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞~

Pairing: Damian Wayne x fem!Reader (platonic)

Word count: 854

Warning: none

A/n: sorry i haven’t posted in a while

Damian trains his pets well. They know how to defend themselves and whatnot. He understands them and they understand him to a high level. But he doesn’t understand why Titus and Alfred are so attached to you from the moment you step foot into the manor. After thirty dreadful minutes of him introducing you to his obnoxious brothers, it was time for the both of you to go up to his bedroom and work on a project for your class that was worth about eighty percent of your grade.

The feeling of something rubbing against your legs makes you stop and glance down. A tuxedo cat stands below, rubbing its small head at your leg. You kneel, cooing at the small cat as it jumps into your arms. Back pressed against your arm, giving you full access to its belly as you rub it gently.

“Aww, who’s this little guy?” You say, laughing softly, watching the animal nudge closer to your palm as you gently rub behind its chin and ear. Damian’s stunned, to say the least, that goes for his brothers. The cat normally hisses and scratches anyone who tries to pick him up, which is something Damian totally didn’t train him to do, he doesn’t willingly jump into people's arms.

The young Wayne clears his throat “That’s-um—my cat, Alfred”

“Aw, you’re named after the butler of the house. That’s adorable” Alfred lets out a soft meow before jumping out of his arms out of fright when a loud bark echos off the walls. A Great Dane appears, reaching up to your waist, maybe taller if the big dog stood up straight. He sits down in front of you and lifts his paw. He wants to shake your hand. You do so without hesitation. Grasping the Great Danes paw as you move it up and down. You let go after a while and the paw is right back on the ground.

“And that’s Titus” Damian stares “My pet dog”

“Aren’t you such a cutie?” You say scratching behind the big dog's ear as he leans further into your touch. They pray for your safety. Titus wasn’t a violent animal, he was far from it, besides the fact that he barks and growls at Damian's family members, besides Alfred whom he loves because he feeds him at times, and Damian hero teammates, it’s a surprise when he doesn’t growls at you.

In fact, they were more surprised that the Great Dane came over on his own and greeted you with a paw by the front door along with the cat. Damian excuse the both of you, leading you up to the library where you two will be working on the project. You set your things down and he sends you to find useful books.

You’re so engrossed in finding books that you don’t hear the door open, but Damian does. He looks up from the book he holds in hand and sees his two pets walking in. He goes to shoo them away, but the minute you walk out of the lined shelves with books in hand, they walk to you. Damian can only stare confused. He thinks you are a witch, a little childish but he lives in a world where they, are in fact, real by any means. But that can’t be, because Damian did some digging on you. It’s a little weird and creepy but there was no way he was going to let a complete stranger in his home.

They stop in front of you and you smile down at them, An “excuse me” leaves your lips as you walk around them and make your way towards Damian. They follow you closely. A book falls from your grasp and lands on the floor right by Titus.

Titus picks up the book with his mouth, softly so he won’t leave bite marks. “You have well-mannered pets Damian” You smile dropping the books on the table in front of you as Titus does the same with the book in his mouth.

“Makes sense since they were trained by me after all” he hums. “And they were trained to obey and not to do what they want when they want” he’s scolding them, they aren’t allowed in the study. “Now go you two” he points to the door, They seem to hesitate and hide behind you. Damian looks done at them with wide eyes, and you stand there awkwardly.

“Let them stay for a bit. They won’t bother us” You get done to their level, in the middle as you wrap your arm around the Great Dane and carry the tuxedo cat in your arms.

“Please?” He would say no to you, but he can’t say no to his animals. Ever. He least put a heavy sigh

“tch, alright! But only for a few minutes, I don’t want you to get distracted and leave me to do all the work”

“That won’t happen” It did happen. You were too busy baby-talking them and rubbing their bellies. But you two did pass your class all together so it was worth it.

[evilminji]

Behold! o/ The Face Of Benevolent Evil!

Mr. Principle! A professional hero and educator!

Also possibly some sort of stoat hybrid! Certainly a chimera of Japanese fauna! With the Quirk High Specs, he is one of, if not THE, smartest beings on the planet of which he resides! With a background perfectly justifying a decent into hatred and villiany, he instead chose to channel his incredible world shaking intellect into the shaping of future generations!

He likes to fuck with people!

For FUNSIES~☆!

What can he say? It keeps a man young and mentally stimulated! Plus the hysterical screaming of his staff and students is HILARIOUS. He can even argue it makes for good reaction training! Unforseen situations, children! React!!! *psychotic chortling*

Mmmmm, yes. We all have our trauma responses. Ways we deal with them. He should probably find other means... but he won't! Tea and tormenting the student body make for good future heroes, you know! They adapt!

But! You may ask! Why am I introducing you to this... *polite yet somehow deeply threatening smile* c-completely sane and normal individual!? Esteemed educator that he is! Ha ha...

A good and not at a under threat question!

Villains? Are fuuuuuckin STUPID!

Doesn't matter how many PHDs you possess! In fact! That makes it WORSE! You moron! You absolute fool! No traveling circus would have you, you sub-rate CLOWN of a jingle jangle dunce jester! You have a god damn PHD! Possibly MULTIPLE PHD!

And you thought "ooooh I should go into cwiiiiime~☆"?

Do you hear yourself when you talk? DO YOU?! Ooooh boohoo. They won't let you study what you WANT to study. It's called an ETHICS BOARD. And YEAH, NO SHIT! Maybe get over it and keep you fucked up fantasies to your SELF.

Or? If you REALLY can't hold it in? Lay the ground work like EVERYONE FUCKING ELSE! You're not special! Everyone wants to play god! It's FUN! They let you have the COOL toys! But you have to EARN that shit! Not jump straight from graduation to "fucked up superscience"!

And? If it's NOT the Ethics Board? But just some bureaucrat on a power trip? You don't have to fucking STAY. This? This RIGHT HERE? Is why I-Island fucking EXSISTS.

APPLY.

They are SO MANY countries you could move too. SO MANY other labs. You actual DUMBASS.

But NO! You decided to commit to a fucked up underground Villian Lab. As though HUNTING THOSE isn't the PERSONAL fucking passion project of THE SMARTEST BEING IN JAPAN. Frankly? You deserve this. You deserve this and our school doesn't know you. Never heard of you. You whoms't?

Coulda changed the world. But instead all you did was piss of The Fuzzy White Demon Lord of UA. Rest in pieces. *click*

*sound of doors smashing open*

*violent Raid Upon Your Labs noises*

But! You may ask? What's IN the Lab?

What MAKES this a DP crossover?

I like your question asking spirit! Good one! And the answer? You know what's better then ONE(1) Nedzu? A second one that you can ACTUALLY control this time! After all! You could consider Mr. Principle a prototype. A proof of concept, if you will. If you were able to make ANOTHER.....

Well, you would set off EVERY. SINGLE. ALARM. Nedzu has set up!

All of them!

Because he don't PLAY THAT.

He has long last trauma from the labs and is the SOLE FUCKING SURVIVOR. There WERE others. They Did Not make it. And their slow agonizing deaths are carved into his brain for the rest of his life. Truely "The living shall envy the dead"; it was a place that made hell seem merciful.

When he declare Never Again?

He fucking MEANT Never Again. He will BURN your empires to ash, with you in them. No More Labs.

So :) You can IMAGINE :) HOW HAPPY HE IS :)

That someone out there is trying to RECREATE his SUPER traumatic childhood, on ANOTHER CHILD. Ha ha! Gonna be a second Nedzu huh? Planning to torture HIM like you did me, HUH? Shove him in a cage and treat him like an animal? Force him to watch as the others die? Collars and whips and cattle prods? Mazes?!

Nedzu may lose his shit.

Juuuuust a little bit.

But if anyone there knows what good for them? They saw NOTHING. What's a little PTSD flashback between friends? Now what is the baby?

Smashcut to said baby!

Because it was a TEAM effort, Danny was successful in "Nuh Uh!"ing out of Rulership. But NOT out of governance. Since he DID help. He's a Councilman now. It's? Not as bad as it could be, honestly. Since it's opened the Zone up to a more democratic system.

Still held by "kick the ass of the person you wanna replace" but still!

Babysteps.

Thing is? There was apparently this weird? Leak? Like a couple hundred years ago, in this one area, that was never addressed. Everyone just moved their doors and stuff. Treated it like the floors flooded. But now that they HAVE someone to complain too?

They all want their territories back.

"Go fix it!" What are we? Janitors?

Danny looses the rock, paper, scissors competition. He's pretty sure Boxy cheated. But like? Dude has a kid to go home too, so Danny doesn't fight him to hard on this. Uuuuuugh. Just remember the Spider-Man motto. Great power~ blah blah blaaaah~

And? Wow is it fucked out there.

The whole PLANET has to be limnal as FUCK. Yikes.

Problem is? When he and his team (Because YES, he HAS learned from his mistakes, Jazz.) get close to the... frankly the Zone here looks like distorted spiderwebbing. With him leading the charge, obviously.

....something happens.

It's... it's not a portal. Wrong color. It's like someone USED the weird spiderwebbing effect to... to reach INTO the Zone? But they are severally Limnal. Clawed hands, blue tint. But that's not the problem.

No, the problem.

The Horror.

The thing that his team can only watch on in agonized terror as it plays out... is that hand? It shoots out of nowhere. Ghostlike in the Zone. Meaning it must be living. And PLUNGES directly into Danny's chest to wrap around his core.

Time seems to slow.

He can't even scream in pain. At the violation. His team, acquaintances, yes, but friendly ones. Can not even cry out in horror, as they watch their friend and team lead be butchered before them. Before that uncaring hand is ripping back. Perfect ice and starlight in its uncaring grip.

For a terrible moment... he is in two places at once.

Then he is crushed in a burning grip. Like molten bars. Watching his own body dissolve into nothing in an instant, pain and horror still etched upon his face. The beginnings of screams ripping from his team as they jerk away from the nightmarish threat.

Then he can not think at all.

He... he TRIES. Knows he has been captured. Is certainly not the sort to give up easily. But... he's so tired. His body feels? Weird. Not wrong, per say. It's HIS. But... small and weird. Like he's shape shifted into a new form and hasn't adjusted yet.

....

.......

...........

He's getting really sick of all the goop against his whiskers and in his ears. It feels WEIRD against his fu- WAIT a second... did those assholes shove him into an animal? Why?! To contain him? Ha! Jokes on them! He's DONE THIS before!

For FUN!

He once spent a whole ass summer as a tiny dragon just 'CAUSE!

Unfortunately, said assholes notice him waking up. Dump him in a glorified hamster cage. But like.... a SHITTY "I don't care about the pet I bought" hamster cage. Dude. And he's naked.

Is that Japanese? Ooooh! It IS! Thank you, Tucker's Weeb phase.

......actually, never mind. Lotta dehumanizing language there, my guys. What is this? The GIW international? You couldn't even give me PANTS? Swear to God, call me an "it" ONE more time and the next time I have to go? I am going to aim through the bars at your-! *alarms going off*

....wasn't me.

I mean, be all means, ha ha and get fucked, but? Wasn't me. Oh hey! Some one exploded the doo-

AND? In Lab 4?

Nedzu finds a child with fluffy, ungroomed black and white fur, and the curious yet cautious eyes of a survivor. They are the most magnificent green, pale and luminous they glow in the laboratories lighting. Paws too big for his small frame, delicate ears on the swivel, equally large. Yet to grow into either. Adolescent, at best.

He watches the child take him in. Note his features and the chaos behind him. The injured scientist under his feet. Come to him conclusion. Nedzu will not rush him. Now that he... he stand the chance to be the hero he himself never had. It is a strange feeling. At once cathartic and unbearably painful.

He is given the equivalent of a cheerful grin, as the lad points the the lock on the cage. Is asked if he happened to bring a spare pair of pants. He can not help his amused chortle as he makes quick work of the lock. The unbearable RELIEF he feels.

He... he was not too late.

These monsters had no chance to crush the boy's light. To make a monster of him, like they did with him. He survived his laboratory, his hell. But not all of him left that terrible place. He knows that. Some innocence, some goodness, died alone in the dark. But here? He insured there would be no chance.

With amusement, he watches the boy turn the lab upside down until he finds spare scrubs. Triumphant, he then considers his own, tiny claws. Dismisses them. Attempts to hop up on a chair to retrieve something sharp. It? Is unbearably cute. To watch him rip and shred, problem solve. His little mind churning away. Whiskers twitching as his eyes dart around, considering his options.

Nedzu offers one of his spare knives.

Watches him light up.

Adorable~

@legitimatesatanspawn @hdgnj @nerdpoe @babbling-babull @lolottes

[professorcalculusstanaccount]

he’s the adult supervision, he’s the voice of reason, he’s a cringefail king, it’s Captain Haddock! Quite a few people asked for a timeline post for Haddock after I posted one of Tintin.

I found the whole idea of the Haddock family curse to be very interesting, and the implications behind it to be pretty dark... cw for alcoholism and childhood abuse. Let me know if you need anything tagged.

To figure out the timeline the evidence for Haddock’s age I found was in an animated adaptation of Explorers on the Moon where Haddock mentions he has around forty years of sailing experience. I doubt he was running around on ships as a newborn so that places his age during the canon comics at around 60ish, give or take a few years, which in my timeline places his childhood during the late Victorian era!

Left to right, top to bottom:

Child - Archibald Haddock had a pretty rough childhood and family life. The legacy of the “Haddock family curse” weighs heavily on him, and so does the alcoholism that runs generationally. His father is often drunk, taking his anger and frustration out on Archibald. Fully believing the family curse, Archibald’s father drills the idea that he is destined for failure into his head. 

Archibald’s only respite is his grandfather, who tells him stories of Sir Francis Haddock and other tall tales from the sea. His grandfather also would take him out on fishing trips, the lochs and the sea being his refuge. 

Teenager - It’s the 1880s and Archibald is left aimless after his grandfather passes away, passing the time by hiding from his father and drinking during the day. He fully believes he has no real future and lets himself get swept up by whatever will come along next.

Young Adult - Archibald decides to follow in his grandfather’s footsteps and becomes a sailor, feeling at home at sea. He cleans up somewhat after befriending George Chester as the two train on the same merchant vessel. Chester drags a reluctant Archibald along into all kinds of crazy antics, with Archibald wanting to stay on the straight and narrow.

Archibald is drafted during the First World War, serving in the Grand Fleet. He is stationed at the Orkney and Shetland Islands with Chester.

Canon - After the war Archibald relapses on his addiction again, but is able to hold onto work in the merchant fleet. He eventually becomes a captain of a merchant vessel where his mental health issues are taken advantage of in the Crab with the Golden Claws. 

Seeing his crew mutiny, kidnap (and attempt to murder) a boy on his ship was a major wake up call - Haddock is now imbued with a sense of responsibility for Tintin (even if Tintin seems to handle things better than Haddock!). He doesn’t understand what Tintin sees in him but he’ll be damned if he proves him wrong. He’s not above calling him an idiot when the time is right though.

Post Canon - After Tintin loses his job Haddock does his best to support him.  He uses his wealth to further causes he believes in, donating money to artist collectives and scientific research that was repressed by fascist governments. Before Belgium even joins the Second World War he and the Marlinspike team proactively go out and foil various Nazi plots. Marlinspike Hall is firebombed by the Nazis in retaliation, but after the war Haddock funds various housing cooperative projects. Coming from a working class background he hasn’t forgotten the hardships a lot of people face.

Elderly - At this point Haddock is secure in his found family. He’s been living with his partner Ramo Nash, and has taken up various arts and crafts as hobbies. Looking back, he never expected to be a father, but is incredibly proud of Tintin. He never officially adopts him as a part of him still fears the family curse (plus they both agree “Haddock” as a name definitely does not suit Tintin)!

[aweina]

ᰔ. a gift for you : sub-zero. scorpion + smoke.

there was an array of young flowers tucked between the glossy leaves, warm paper lanterns guide you through the maze of flora. there’s water colored butterflies sipping the nectar of your favorite flowers, the scent of honey and earth soothing your nerves. bi-han has gifted you a greenhouse. considering the fact that the lin kuei palace contains lots of open land to train on — it was fitting to add something less grueling and tense. he directly thought about you, encased with delicate, floral pieces as you beam at the variations of flowers and other greenery you always mentioned during your afternoon walks. it started off with short nods, listening intently to your frantic words with amusement. then he’d silently gift you engraved pots filled with young flowers and all the needed tools to build a lively collection of plants. that didn’t seem enough. the grandmaster always had urges for something more, something greater, that he also applied it to you or rather, your fondness over flowers. since the freezing climate wasn’t so fitting for sun enriched plants, constructing a greenhouse would be fitting and also, fulfilling for him to do in secret. it was hard work to pull it off. there were times you nearly spotted it in the middle of its development and your suspicion towards bi-han’s sudden interest in flora made him sweat icicles, but it was all worth seeing your radiant smile in the end. for now on, he’ll find you within the maze of bustling blossoms — individually nurturing them with love and care and amusingly talking to the clusters of flora like little children. at that the thought of your happiness, he smiled under his mask.

the parchment felt light and airy in your grasp, but much more of them were tied with a silk string — each individually sealed with set red wax, blotches of little lighthearted notes and tea stains smudged along the handcrafted envelopes. they smelt faintly of sweet herbs and dried ink. kuai liang has gifted you a collection of love letters. it all started when he met you, his usual writing was put off for his lin kuei duties, leaving the pens to dry off and the stacks of parchment to pile dust bunnies. then your gentle presence gave him a boost to write small notes in the middle of the night. the adorning look you would give him would make him write paragraphs with such ease, leaving a shade of blotched blue all over his palm. then your contagious laughter and assuring gaze made a mountain of neatly crafted love letters in the corner of his usual tidy room. along the ink read his first impressions of you, the beautiful details that you missed about yourself, lengths of innocent admiration, and millions of confessions about how much he loves you. each letter had little surprises tucked between the pages. a frail cherry blossom petal when you both first trained together. colored origami animals that you spotted during missions. he kept them all as a sign of his love — dedication towards you. watching you carefully unfold himself with gentle hands, he safely locks the image of your big grin and droplets of joyful tears in his memory for another love letter.

the glimmering of delicate light reflected over the bare walls, adding a pretty iridescence on the wallpaper. clashes of soft yellow, with pastel greens and pinks made your skin twinkle under the sun. the silhouette of a dainty butterfly floated through the air. tomas has gifted you a sun catcher. the warm village of fengjian had pockets of small businesses. crowded bookstores, fragile porcelain shops, and fresh produce stands. he didn’t have any personal feelings towards these stores, rather he wanted something more personal — made with his own hands and heart. that’s when he finds a workshop filled with dozens of personal projects, unfinished ceramics and even glass bracelets. then he eyes a mesmerizing piece, a sun catcher. it reminded him how you seem to unintentionally fill every room you’re in with light, how you always impressively shined through the bitter ash of his magic — winning every spar between the two of you. the process of making a sun catcher was meticulous, melting down metal small rods together, inserting colored glass with clear precision but with very nervous hands. tomas finishes off the butterfly piece with a string of patterned beads that he collected when you both visited different villages. a crescent moon dangling at the end to represent him — your opposite, your midnight protector. there’s instant relief when you beamed ever so brightly at your handcrafted gift. he helped you hang it by your window, the glimmer of reflection blinding the both of you for a second. then he sits with you, explaining the meaning of each individual bead and glass — while your smile brightens the whole room.

add. note : the alt title would’ve been ‘if he wanted to he would’, but i’ll refrain from men slander for now (`ー´) …

[writing-intheundercroft]

Ser Freckles // S. Sallow

Rating: T

WC: 2,743

Summary: As heir to the throne, the princess takes appointing her sworn protector very seriously.

A/N: Submitted as part of a writing challenge because I'm a glutton for starting AU projects. inspired heavily by HOTD (I've been looking for an excuse to use the name Gawayne). Much love to the pals who keep Knight!Seb living in my brain <3

“Now that you are of age, and officially the heir to the throne, it’s time you appoint your first sworn sword.”

She looked up to Fig as they walked down the stone stairs, the excited chatter from the courtyard echoing off the walls.  Fig had been her tutor all her life, and only now did she realize her lessons with him had a greater purpose.  She was the only daughter of the king’s dearly departed brother, a king who lacked any heirs of his own.  And now that she’d turned eighteen, with no hopes for a male cousin in sight, she had been formally invested as the heir apparent.

Fig was no lowly court tutor, she realized. He’d been placed with her from her youth, preparing her for what had seemed like a distant possibility that she might one day become queen. Lord Eleazar Fig, a member of the King’s Counsel, had been priming her to take power all along.

”I’m not sure why I can’t keep Lady Singer,” she mumbled, kicking her skirts as they continued their descent. “She’s been my guardian for as long as I can remember.”

”Lady Singer is a governess,” Fig reminded her. “And in no way capable of being your sworn protector.  The young man you choose today will become a knight, sworn to your king's guard.  Can you remind me what the function of your king's guard is?”

”My queen’s guard,” she snipped, emphasizing the word, “will protect my counsel and me from harm, as well as my future heirs.”

“Precisely, Princess.” Fig smiled. “It’s largely a symbolic role considering the relative peace our realm has seen this past one hundred years, even more so with the city watch taking guard of the castle.  But the king—er, queen’s guard is a deep rooted tradition each house takes very seriously.  The gentlemen we’ve assembled today for your selection come from some of the great houses of the realm.  Others have been lauded for their bravery and skill in the battlefield.”

The princess and Lord Fig walked to the balcony, the crowd below falling into silence. There were six men (boys, she observed, especially considering she’d grown up with four of them around court) standing in the courtyard below.  They all wore gleaming armor, save for the last, wearing a dull set without embellishments.  Each had a pennant with their house sigil, members of their families standing behind them. The animals on each pennant were embroidered with gleaming metallic thread–lions, eagles, badgers, and snakes taking center, representing the great houses each family bowed to. 

Lord Fig took her hand, helping her stand on a stool to catch a better glimpse of her future knight.

”The first proposed candidate is Ser Leander Prewett,” Fig stated loudly. “Ser Leander is the second son of Lord Lyonel Prewett.  He is a fine duelist, trained by one of the land’s most notable swordsmen.”

She cocked her brow, observing the redhead below.  Tall, lithe, with a glorious mane of red hair.

”And rather shit on a horse,” she muttered under her breath. “Did you see him in the last tourney?”

”Horsemanship is not a requirement of a knight, Princess.” Fig muttered.

”He truly had no idea if he was facing the front, or the back.” She joked. 

Lord Fig concealed his laugh in a cough. He waved his arm, and Leander’s gleaming smile vanished into a rather sour expression as the next option stepped forward.

”Ser Garreth Weasley,” Fig announced. “The third son of Lord Gwayne Weasley.”

”I know Ser Garreth well,” she smiled demurely. “Is it not one of the oaths as my queen’s guard to take no wife, have no children, and to be sworn to uphold the duties of the crown until death or dismissal?”

”It is, Princess.”

She clicked her tongue. “I know very well my dear friend Lady Natsai would be quite upset if I took her beloved to my service.  I’d rather see the two of them happily married than split apart by duty.” She waved him backwards, knowing Natty would be pleased.  Garreth stepped back, cheeks red, but a relieved look on his face.

“The next option is Ser Amit Thakkar,” Fig looked down at his notes. “Son of the Dowager Lady Tara Thakkar. No notable tourney experience, he’s been—“

”Away for his studies in the new world,” the princess interjected. “I know Ser Amit quite well. Tell me, Ser, how was your research on the skies?  Anything new to report?”

“I’ve identified at least twelve constellations once lost to our maesters,” Amit announced excitedly. “And I do look forward to finding more.”

She tilted her head to Fig, eyebrows raised. “I do believe Ser Amit’s talents are better used with the college of maesters, rather than as a member of my queen’s guard.”

”Moving on,” Fig tutted. “Ser Duncan Hobhouse, son of—“

”No.”

”Okay, on to the next.” Fig winced, letting the young Duncan Hobhouse step back with a sigh. “Next is Ser Isaac Cooper. Son of Ser Tristan Cooper, the Lord Commander of the city watch.  Strong, steady, and good with a lance.  Ser Isaac has topped the tourney lists, specifically winning the tourney of Aranshire this past spring. ”

The princess chewed her lower lip as she appraised Ser Isaac.  He stood tall, black hair cropped closely to his head. His parents stood behind him proudly bearing the badger on their sigil.  Isaac gave her a beaming smile, followed by a rather obvious wink.

“I look forward to serving you, my princess, in all ways you see fit.” Isaac said loudly, followed by a showy bow. A gaggle of young ladies on the upper balcony giggled audibly, Ser Isaac blowing a kiss to his admirers.

The princess gagged, wrinkling her nose as she turned back to her tutor. 

”A tourney knight,” she huffed. “Tell me, Lord Fig, do any of these knights have real combat experience?”

Fig sighed deeply, beckoning forward the sixth option.  It was the knight in plain armor; unlike the others, he did not have a large gathering of family members behind him.  A thin, peaky girl stood by his side, wobbling on her feet as their sigil shook in her hands. The green velvet of the flag looked worn, but a silver snake had been embroidered into the fabric with metallic thread, red beads for eyes.  Behind them was a stern looking man, beard peppered with silver hairs.  

The boy paid them no attention, standing forward with his head bowed to her. 

“Ser Sebastian Sallow,” Fig cleared his throat. “The nephew of Ser Solomon Sallow, a former knight of the city watch.  He was dismissed from his post after the death of his brother, taking on the stewardship of his young niece and nephew.  Ser Solomon and his nephew Sebastian have taken the responsibility of patrolling the lower highlands, protecting their hamlets from ashwinders and poachers.”

She leaned forward over the railing, interest piqued by the humble knight below. “Tell me, Ser Sebastian, of your experience fighting against the ashwinder rebellion.”

He lifted his head, big brown eyes framed by an explosion of freckles. He had a round, boyish face for eighteen, thick brown hair descending in waves. A blush took over his cheeks as he dipped his head once more.

”I have fought against the ashwinders for the past five years, Princess.  For as long as my uncle has allowed me.” He said, tipping his head back towards the stern man. “The lower hamlets rarely see reinforcements from the city watch, so it is up to the residents themselves to gather arms.”

“And when did you become a knight, Ser Sebastian?”

Sebastian turned briefly to look at his uncle, who merely nodded. “The Lord Commander of the city watch was passing through our hamlet when he witnessed me apprehending a cohort of ashwinder assassins.” He adjusted his grip on the helmet in his hands, metal clanking as he shifted.  Unlike the others, there were no grand decorations, no feathery plumes attached to the helmet.  It was practical, well-worn steel that had seen battle many times before. “He knighted me on the field, after the battle.”

”One boy against twenty ashwinders,” Fig whispered in her ear. “Quite a feat.”

She braced her palms against the stone ledge, hair falling over her shoulders. He looked up at her intently now, eyes wide.  even with his armor on, she could see his throat bobbing, swallowing down his nerves.  

“That settles it for me. I choose Ser Sebastian Sallow.” 

The hall descended into loud whispers; the girl holding his sigil gasped with delight, while the man behind her dropped his mouth open in shock.  Sebastian knelt, but kept his gaze fixated upon her.  It was as if the chocolate brown orbs were burning into her, somewhere between admiration and curiosity. 

Fig gave her a knowing look. “Ser Sebastian it is.”

”I’ll leave the details to Ser Sebastian’s investiture to you, Lord Fig.” the princess said, stepping down from the stool. Her heels clattered against the floor, hands folded behind her back. “And measure him for new armor.  Something befitting my sworn protector.”

”The customary armor, of course, with your sigil on the pauldron.” Fig noted.

She paused, turning one last time towards her counsel.

”Don’t forget his snakes.” She reminded him. “Silver with ruby eyes.”

Fig tried to conceal his smile. “Yes, princess.”

“You know we’re not allowed in the armory,” Poppy hissed, trying to tug on her skirt. “Lady Singer–”

“Lady Singer can kiss my arse,” the princess declared, enjoying the way her lady in waiting’s cheeks flushed. “I would like to supervise the fitting.  Will you join me?”

“I think not,” Poppy lifted her nose. “I’ll be off to the library to meet with Imelda.  You should stay out of trouble.” the brunette warned.

The princess pulled open the heavy door of the armory, grinning at her friend. “Trouble is my middle name,” she sang, waving goodbye as she entered the room.  The normally bustling armory was quiet at midday, with most of the knights standing guard.  She stepped past the rows of white cloaks, all hung under their corresponding owner’s name.  Weapons were stacked against the wall on wooden racks; she wouldn’t dare go near the spears, swords, and morningstars for fear of tipping them over.  Her slippers pattered against the flagstone floors as she walked deeper into the chamber in search of her new knight.

“There you are,” she declared, seeing him standing on the pedestal. Ser Sebastian Sallow stood in his freshly tailored white breeches and shirt, half dressed in his new gilded armor.

“Princess,” the armorer bowed his head quickly, stepping away from Sebastian. “I did not realize you were coming in to supervise the fitting.”

“Is it not tradition?” she asked, circling the pedestal with an approving nod.

“It is,” the armor rubbed his hands together anxiously. “For the king.  But you are a young lady, it’s hardly appropriate for you to be in the armory with a knight in a state of undress–”

“Ser Sebastian is my choice,” she pointed out. “So I will supervise the fitting of his armor and his sword selection, just as my uncle did for his sworn swords.”

“As you wish, princess.” The armor nodded. “I’ll fetch his sword at once.”  He bowed, walking backwards out of the room.

“Are you always so commanding?” Ser Sebastian asked, a hand on his hip.

“Only when they’re so formal.” she grinned, crossing her arms. “The armor looks good on you.”

Sebastian’s cheeks flushed. “Thank you.” he stammered. “And thank you for honoring my house.” he gestured to his pauldron, decorated with the Sallow family sigil. Instead of the crudely carved 

The armorer returned, holding a glimmering sword with a checked handle. “His sword, your grace.” he handed it to her for inspection. “I shall return shortly with his cloak; the seamstress was just finishing the hem.” He backed out of the room once more, leaving the pair alone.

The princess bobbed her head as she held the sword in her hand, testing its weight. “Good balance,” she mused, tossing it from one hand to the other.

“You’re trained with a sword?” Sebastian asked, eyebrow cocked.

She gave him a toothy grin, swinging the sword from side to side. “My uncle thought it best that I was taught the same as any other prince of the realm.” 

“I certainly agree,” Sebastian offered. “I trained my sister as best as I could before coming to the capitol.”

“Well then, should we practice for your investiture?” She asked. “On your knees, then.”

Sebastian sank to the floor, beaming up at her obediently.  He tipped his chin upwards, right hand resting over his heart. 

“Do you swear to uphold the code of the kingsguard?” she asked, trying her best to remember the vows Lord Fig had tasked her with memorizing.

“I do,” Sebastian echoed.

“Do you swear to guard the king with all your might, and give your blood for him and his heirs?” She recited the words slowly and thoughtfully.  The sword was beginning to feel heavy in her hands, but Sebastian didn’t budge.  He stayed, knelt below her on the ground, closed fist bound to his chest.

“I do.”

“Do you swear to take no wife, father no children, hold no lands? Do you swear to guard your king’s secrets, obey his commands, defend his name and honor?”

The princess blinked down at her chosen knight, hovering the blade over his shoulder. His big, brown eyes stared back at her, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.  She hadn’t noticed the freckles on his lips; then again, she’d never been so close to him before.  He looked both like a knight and a boy all at once–his armor was unfinished, missing the pauldron on his left shoulder that would bear her sigil.  Sebastian’s messy hair stuck up in the back, and the princess felt the strong urge to pat it down.

She instead remained steady, blade in hand.

“Do you swear, Ser Sebastian?” she asked.

“I swear to take no wife, father no children, nor hold any lands.  I swear to guard my queen’s secrets, obey her commands, defend her name and honor. For as long as I breathe, my life is my queen’s.” Sebastian gave her a coy look, eyes glittering with mischief; he aimed to flatter her, charming the princess with his change in verbiage.

Two could play that game, she thought. The princess lifted her sword, tapping it on both of his shoulders.  “By the grace of the future queen, I name you Ser Kiss Arse.” she declared dramatically.

Sebastian choked, and the princess laughed.  Her whole body shook with her giggles, and Sebastian pouted. 

“No fair,” he complained. “Pick a better name.”

“Fine,” she wiped a tear from her eye. Feigning composure, she straightened her posture and gave him her best queenly glare. “By the grace of the future queen, I name you Ser Freckles.”

“You’re making a mockery of it,” Sebastian whined.

“We’re practicing, remember?” She snorted. “I promise, I’ll be much more official during the actual ceremony.”

Sebastian huffed. “Fine then.  But if I get a nickname, then you get one too.” he warned. “Princess Picky is what I’ll call you.”

The princess scoffed, backing away. “Who called me picky?”

Sebastian gave her a sheepish look, rubbing the back of his neck. “Everyone at court, actually. They thought you were too picky with your requirements of the kingsguard.  The public is fairly certain you’re making a mistake in picking me as your sworn sword.” his smile faltered, a wave of doubt crashing over his face. “My family has no riches, no influence at court.  I have nothing else to offer you.”

The princess chewed her lower lip, dragging the sword behind her as she leaned down to face her knight. “It is no mistake,” she murmured, pressing a hand to his shoulder. “You are the most deserving of the title.  I chose you. And if that makes me picky, so be it.”

Sebastian touched her wrist; the gesture shocked her, eyelashes fluttering from the surprise embrace.  But she did not move her hand–the princess kept it on his uncovered shoulder, her hair falling in her face as she looked down at her sworn protector.

“Princess Picky and Ser Freckles,” Sebastian joked. “An eclectic pair.”

She gave him an earnest smile. “I’d have it no other way.”

[thefruitloop-chan]

Commissioned by @kitsunefyuu

A piece for their fanfic Bird Cage

When Izuku was very young when his mother died and his father took him away to a home with no doors or windows. But a courtyard and anything he could ever want while he's made to dress up. Everything except a chance to be a hero.

So he finally asked his father at the age of twelve when seemed there was no end to this isolation. Fully expecting to be rejected but instead his father accepts his desire to go to school under three conditions.

1. Follow his training regime. 2. Report everything to him. 3. Stay out of trouble.

That shouldn't be too hard... Right?