#please excuse any typos...

[miettes-house]

hi again!! i know i draw patty in a lot of casual clothes so i wanted to try and actually experiment with her costuming, and give her some actual devil hunter attire. enjoy :^D!!!!

below are some alternative versions + some notes on my design and thought process, if anyone's interested :^) !!!!

I had so much fun designing these outfits for her. I made a lot of alternative color versions, not all of them made it here. I designed 2 outfits and 3 hairstyles for her, as well as her guns. (note: this is mostly an exercise in character costuming)

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Some things I wanted to keep in mind when designing (or rather, costuming) her was:

keeping in line with the general aesthetics of the DMC series + imagining my own take on an adult Patty, which we've only seen as a kid in the anime thus far.

I wanted her adult design to be chic, modern, and as practical as possible while still preserving a sense of fashion, and make her recognizably 'Patty'.

I didn't want to make her fashion too similar to how it appears in the show, since she's like 9-10 and for me it didn't make much sense for her to dress the same as she did when she was a kid haha

maintaining a limited palette of blacks, browns, pinks, and reds

adding my own personal style and tastes for fun :^)

this is such a little thing, but her voice cameo in dmc5 came off a little bit valleygirl-esque to me? very stereotypical teen girl, so I went with a very high femme aesthetic to try and match that energy a little bit.

for her guns: I wanted to ofc reference Dante & Trish with ther respective handguns. But I did take a few pages from Bayonetta's book and gave her little gun charms. (i do think if she were a playable character, she would have similar game play to V maybe?)

1st design (alt colors) :

For this take, I wanted something that was both chic and slightly grungy and more aligned with what the other devil hunter characters wear- lots of leather! Generally speaking, the dmc characters have rather limited palettes, so I didn't want to go overboard with my color choices. i dabbled a little bit with giving her pink accents, as we see her in pink a considerable amount in the show. I referenced Dante and Lady's designs a lot for this particular look, for things like the leather boots and jacket. I think this outfit is a little bit less practical, but I think it's a little bit more in line with the actual character designs of dmc5 in particular.

2nd design (alt colors) :

for this second look I wanted something a little bit more practical and refined. I took a lot of inspiration from other adult patty designs ive seen on here !! as well as more inspiration from her anime appearance for this look. I wanted something a little bit more gothic and "straight-edged", and I accidentally designed a very 70's two piece set, haha. Again, maintaining the same limited color palette as before. This design has a lot less accent colors and is a little bit more cohesive, tried to avoid making a bland design, which i hope was successful!

[daeneryscel]

i think the biggest problem i have with the whole team discourse in f&b + hotd is that it isn’t just about which characters you like more/who you want to sit on the throne at that end; it’s that each side is fighting for completely different ideologies, regardless of one members personal beliefs. grrm could not have made it anymore clear.

team black isn’t just fighting for rhaenyra to be queen, they’re fighting for the monarch’s right to choose an heir, for the oaths they swore years before, for the complete opposite of precedent/tradition: the king’s word is law. team green isn’t just fighting for aegon to be king, they’re fighting for tradition, that no matter the words of a king being law sons will always come before daughters, that oaths are fickle and don’t matter. each side is in some way fighting back against what’s already been established for the kingdom, but the end goal is completely different.

we’re not given as much insight into why most of the houses initially sided with rhaenyra, but we do have an inkling into how the green council felt and acted, however. jaehaerys choosing baelon over rhaenys (against andal tradition, the king can choose his heir) is one point. the great council of 101 is another. alicent, despite being the leader of the council, is removed from the equation and shoved off to the side when it comes to swearing oaths of loyalty between the members on account of her womanhood. daemon being a second coming of ‘maegor’ (despite what we know would be a better suited title for aemond, but i digress) is also used. when discussing who would side with them the vale is automatically disqualified from the list, due to them presently being ruled by a woman, jeyne arryn. she doesn’t choose to fight for rhaenyra for the sole reason of them being kin, but because her own right to rule can and will be put into question if aegon steps over rhaenyra. because she is a woman. she does so in spite of her dislike for daemon (and his supposed maegor-ness) too.

even if one were to look at each characters personal feelings about the succession the fact of the matter is that rhaenyra is usurped because she is a woman. it’s stated almost blatantly multiple times before and during the war. the greens use scapegoats and smokescreens in attempts justify it (her ‘bastards’ chief among them, but legally her sons live and die as the trueborn children between her and laenor, with the reminder that septon eustace refutes this claim to begin with). even when she is killed grrm has her breast pricked to arouse a dragon that doesn’t want to kill her (and why is that?). aegon ‘wins’ against her and is king, but then why is jaehaera, as his last living remaining child not named his heir? why is aegon iii put ahead of her, despite being the enemies son? these are rhetorical questions. aegon had no plans to ever consider her his heir, he made it clear with how excited he was to marry cassandra baratheon and produce more ‘strong’ sons. his dragon (who had fought and bled for him the entire war) wasn’t mourned properly, he couldn’t wait to hatch a ‘new dragon, prouder and fiercer than the last.’ yet he wasn’t even capable of doing that in the six months before he too was killed.

it’s also safe to mention that grrm created an entire separate lore story, one that would seem to have no bearing on the original story unless you’re capable of understanding symbolism. the amethyst empress is usurped by her younger brother the bloodstone emperor, and the first long night ensues from this decision. rhaenyra (amethyst = arryn blue + targaryen red) is usurped by her younger brother aegon ii (bloodstone = hightower green + targaryen red) and the dying of the dragons, the very creatures needed to stop the next long night, are eradicated, along with the magic needed to hatch them and keep them alive (until). the war is the blacks (power, death, grief, rebellion, restraint) versus the greens (ambition, greed, jealousy, anger, wealth). the amethyst empress is important to the main story in the same way that rhaenyra is important, that snubbing the women (an integral aspect to the power the targaryens held) of house targaryen can lead only to disaster. daenerys is the key, the one to break the cycle and fix the wrongdoings caused by her ancestors obsession with power. mother of dragons, mhysa, breaker of chains, slayer of lies, daughter of death, the dragon queen, azor ahai come again, the prince that was promised will bring the dawn.

you can argue for technicalities sake all day, but there is a meaning to this story beyond the scope of rightful heirs. and it shouldn’t be shoved off to the side just so you can praise your favorites and hate those who go against them. it makes for a poor consuming of the actual story. fire and blood was created as a history book to expand on daenerys as a character. her family, what and where she’s come from, and how she relates to them. she’s the antithesis to every targaryen that’s come before her, a hero in her own right. the only targaryen’s we can say are radically important to dany’s story are the conquerors (aegon the conqueror with teats) and rhaenyra (the amethyst empress). i don’t know, just some food for thought.

edit: i have revised some of my opinions on this through a further reread but the gist of it is still the same.

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

I was re-watching some highlights and clips from season 5 and I keep forgetting how brutal Jouno’s death is. Told he was only taken in by Fukuchi because Fukuchi never really believed in him at all. All his escape exits blocked as he clearly tries to hide his growing worry. His particles set on fire. Stabbed all over his body all at once. Bitten and restrained and carted off somewhere. And all of this, all of it, catalyzed because Jouno really had changed for the better. Because he did care, and Fukuchi gravely misunderstood him.

And man. Tecchou forgetting himself. Something’s wrong and he knows it. Tecchou turning violent without valid resistance which goes against his method of justice. Tecchou placing Jouno above justice, which for Tecchou, to whom justice is central to his honour and character, is tantamount to placing him above all else. Tecchou, the one person who repeatedly shows no fear of Jouno, the only one who vouches for his true character as someone who seeks justice also. Who was probably a major instigator of Jouno’s steady change. Who would understand Jouno’s choice to confront evil for the sake of justice at the risk of his own life better than anyone… but who still prioritized him over all else anyways. The sheer desperation of knowing something’s wrong with the person you know best, know everyone gets all wrong… but you don’t know if he’s safe right now. You can’t get to him.

Since I refuse to believe Jouno is actually dead: Asagiri, their reunion, when Tecchou gets to see Jouno is okay and the kind of person he’s become and Jouno realizes that there is someone who cares for him enough to throw everything aside but will still return to himself in the end… it better be something really special. They deserve it.

[kokodrawings]

You know, the technique of Minato the Hiraishin. There are several variations of this technique, but the one that strikes me the most is when during the fourth war, Genma, Raido and Iwashi teleport Mei Terumi and tell she ‘We can use the Fourth's technique, we just need to do it in a group’ Do you think Minato himself taught them this technique in person?I've always liked to think that they received the title of ‘hokage guards’ because Minato trained them for some time. I'd love to know what you think - your illustrations are great!

Hi!! Thank you, glad you hear you like my drawings!! 💖

Well, the last time I read the war arc was ten years ago with the weekly releases, so my memory is a bit fuzzy (not a fan of the arc so I prefer to delete it from my mental headcanons lol), but I think I remember what you’re talking about! Haha, this is a fun ask, let me ramble about that.

Okay, so… we have three guys around Kakashi’s age (in fact, if I remember correctly Genma is Gai’s teammate), but nowhere near Kakashi’s level. Three guys who were around 13-14 years old when Minato rose to power, and who were, at best, newly jounin or even chunin (again, Kakashi was promoted to jounin at 12 and that was an extraordinary ocurrence. And we can agree that these three don’t have Kakashi’s talent).

And you’re telling me that these three kids were the "Hokage Guard Platoon", in charge of protecting the legendary Yellow Flash himself? Yeah Kishi, no way xD

Since you asked for my thoughts, here’s my headcanon: I think that it was peacetime (so things were more or less chill), these kids probably admired the Yellow Flash and now the Fourth Hokage (maybe they were even his fanboys) and Minato thought it would be funny to keep then around as the “Hokage guards.”

And if Minato is going to keep them around, they need a way to get away fast. Because Minato is not a team player, he is a one-man team: he is very fast, strikes even faster and has the Hiraishin to get away quickly if shit hits the fan. He doesn’t need three kids around in the case someone decides to attempt an attack on his person because they will be more of a hindrance than a help (plus, he already lost two kids when he wasn’t around to watch their backs, he doesn’t need another three dead ones).

So, what can he do to solve this? Easy, teach them the Hiraishin! But the Hiraishin is not that easy to learn, you need the power and the skill, and although these three looked like they had the skill (performing a jutsu with other people as a team has to be much more difficult than doing it yourself alone) they lacked the raw chakra needed to power up the technique, so he modified it for them to use as a team.

TL;DR: Minato thought it was hilarious to have three kids trailing behind him like ducklings and taught them the Hiraishin not to protect him, but to protect themselves and get away while he kicked some ass. They're more like Minato's second genin team than a guard, imo.

[answer2jeff]

i was just thinking about dad!carmy missing his wifey when she's on a girls trip for the first time since their daughters birth and anxiously waiting for her to call him...

valeria has just been put to sleep after a seemingly endless hour and a half of rocking, soothing, and shushing.

"relax baby, mommy's gonna be home before you know it," carmy says, kissing the top of valeria's head and wincing a bit when her little fist tightens around his thick index finger. "yes i know," he sighs as she lets out one last wail of 'mama' followed by incoherent babbles before her body begins to relax at the sound of her daddy's soothing hums. no one is exactly sure where the song came from. maybe it's a pre-existing song further expanded on with different notes. maybe it's a whole new song with a lack of words he made just for his little girl.

carmen's back is sore and his hands mourn the weight of his precious girl in his arms, even if he's more than happy that she's finally at peace in her crib. the reality of his temporary loneliness really sets in the moment he closes the door to his daughters nursery.

he tries to distract himself from the sight of your nearly empty home. he's been wiping down the perfectly spotless kitchen counter with a microfiber towel for the last 3 and a half minutes while he scrolls aimlessly through your Instagram with his free hand, smiling to himself with every photo of you glistening in the summer heat. a margarita in one hand, a friends shoulder in the other. he's always thought you're the most beautiful when you're happy. with the sand in between your toes, salt water frizzing up your hair, the sun caressing the spots of your skin he wished he was the one to hold and kiss—seeing you free warms something in him.

meanwhile, you're falling onto your back and feeling the silky cold fabric of your hotel room bed against your skin. the bikini you've had on for hours is still a little damp from the ocean. it makes you shiver. you giggle at your 2 friends who pile into your shared bathroom, ready to puke and laugh and cry at their sickness from alcohol. you decide that you should kill some time before it's your turn to shower and boil yourself in delicious hot water. the balcony calls your name, and you quickly grab your phone from your beach bag, getting up to slide the glass door open to your left. the air feels warm and sweet against your sunkissed skin. your bare feet patter against the concrete foundation before you lean against the railing. you don't even bother to check anyone else's attempts at communication with you today. carmen is the only thing on your mind.

carmen nearly jumps at the sound of his cellphone vibrating against the bathroom sink. he quickly spits the minty toothpaste out of his mouth and accepts your call, raising it to his ear and wiping the corner of his lip.

"hey, baby," he breaths into the line, smiling almost uncontrollably as he drops his toothbrush back in the mug. the absence of yours with that pink little clip that covers the bristles is so disheartening. it's kinda silly, the way he frowns at the missing pieces of you all around your house.

"hi!" you chew on your bottom lip. it's like you're hearing his voice for the first time again. the petname sends butterflies swarming through your stomach. hell, even with a ring on your finger, it feels like you'd just met yesterday. the sound, smell, and feeling of him could never get old.

carmen yawns, leaning back on the bed and feeling his stomach drop when the little dip in the memory foam mattress has completely raised up to its original form. god, he misses the weight of your presence. but he tries to keep it cool.

"i was just thinkin' about you. well, i've been thinking about you this whole weekend," he laughs, running his hands through his sweatlogged curls. "glad you called."

"i know," you whine, "me too. missing you both, actually." your head feels fuzzy when carmen's little huff of agreement hits your ears. for a moment, his calm attitude surprises you. but maybe it shouldn't. he insisted you should go on this 2 day trip, swearing up and down he could handle being with valeria for a little over 48 hours.

"missing you so much more."

you didn't doubt his ability to keep his temper down and his self-discipline up when taking care of her, but you almost felt a little guilty.

"how are things?" you anxiously ask. carmen goes to answer dishonestly, but you quickly clarify. "and before you tell me, i know things have probably been kinda crazy. but oh my god, carmy, thank you for letting me do this. really, i mean—"

"what?" he cuts you off with a chuckle. "letting you? baby, you—you needed it. fuck, you earned it." carmen sits up in disbelief. it pains him knowing he can't fill in the much needed space of valeria's mother, but the guilt of ever daring to ask you to fly back home would kill him even faster. all he wanted was for you to be happy. even if that required sacrifice. especially since he knew deep down you did that for him every single day, even if you didn't notice it.

"mhm."

"i'm so glad you're having fun. things have been hectic, but i'm managing, okay? valeria has just been..." carmen pauses, gnawing at the inside of his cheek and pinching the bridge of his nose as he tries to find the right words.

you relax a bit, letting out a deep sigh of relief. but the anxiety still eats at you. the feeling of your bikini strings digging into your skin and the sand on your inner thighs forming what would soon become a rash if you didn't shower soon certainly wasn't helping with your situation.

"...tough recently. that's all. nothing for you to worry about."

"i know, i know. i just—i don't know. i feel bad. like, my mom instincts are screaming 'go home and take care of your daughter like a proper mother you sick, sick woman! you're not a teenager anymore! god, your poor husband is taking time off of his career too! not just you,' y'know?"

the attempt of trying to make some light out of your guilt just comes out awfully sad. carmen sighs, wishing he could just envelop you in his arms right then and there and drag you back into bed, kissing and squeezing and softly biting your neck and shoulders. but his needs can be dealt with when you get back. this, your sanity and your happiness, is far more important.

"try not to even think about it like that, sweet girl. just enjoy yourself. promise me you'll do that? not just for me, but for you?"

you nod, humming in agreement and sitting down on the cheap plastic chair on the balcony. you knew he was right. carmen spends next few minutes whispering over and over again how wonderful of a person, wife, and mother you are. he assures you that this is right and that it's good for you. oh, how he wishes he could take every worry that ails you and toss it away. or even carry it on his own shoulders if he absolutely had to.

"call me when you get to the airport on monday, okay?"

"okay, i will. i'll text you as soon as i take off and as soon as i land. promise."

"alright, thank you. g'night, baby. get some sleep so you can have even more fun tomorrow."

"yeah, yeah. okay. gotcha."

"i love you."

"i love you, carmy."

"so much," he breaths.

"so much," you reply.

taglist : @lemmejustpulloutmylightsaber @sexyyounglatinoboy @febris-amatoria

[audliminal]

It's barely the end of the first day of school, and three faculty members are dead. Nobody knows much yet, but supposedly the six freshman who all managed to get detention on the very first day of school were involved and, if the rumors are to be believed, two of them actually died. In a dumb fight in the cafeteria against some animated corn. Kipperlily rolls her eyes when she hears it. They're clearly a bunch of losers who are going to either drop out or get someone killed before the year is out, but that's not really her problem, is it?

Still, just to be on the safe side, maybe their party should spend some time in the woods behind the school, and get some practice in with rats and things before they find themselves involved in a fight like those dumb detention kids did.

It's a month into the school year, and Kipperlily's starting to get the hang of things. She's feeling comfortable in a fight now, they've been killing rats and twig gremlins in the Far Haven Woods as often as they can manage, and they're getting really good at it. They even have a name now, the High 5 Heroes, chosen by Kipperlily herself, of course.

Meanwhile, Kipperlily's pretty sure the kids from detention actually killed someone, though nobody seems to be talking about it. Kipperlily doesn't care what anyone says, she's heard multiple people say they saw members of their group talking to Penelope Sam and Johnny spells, and then the day after Johnny Spells gets killed in a fucking car chase, the rich kid, who's literally the son of a pirate, has a mysterious new motorcycle? It's all far too suspicious.

It's the week after winter break, and Kipperlily is stuck in the stupid guidance councilor's office, talking about her dumb feelings. Unlike the Bad Kids (and what kind of stupid name is that), who apparently had an adventure dropped in their lap within minutes of the first school day ending, Kipperlily has been waiting months and still nothing has popped up. Plus Oisin and Ivy keep joking about changing their party name to the Rat Grinders.

It's dumb. Who would want a party name that's based on some joke? Besides, she already chose the name. So why on earth would they change it now? At least Lucy seems to agree with her about it.

It's just days after prom, and Kipperlily is sick of everything. The stupid Bad Kids apparently crashed prom and literally defeated Kalvaxus, Emperor of the Red Waste. It's honestly bullshit. A dumb group of kids that couldn't even make it through one day of school without getting one third of their party killed, and they're being credited with saving the entire continent? Kipperlily's been digging into the Bad Kids' history with every moment of her free time, trying to figure out how a bunch of dumb untrained kids managed something so huge. And she thinks she might have cracked it.

Kristen Applebees is literally Helio's Chosen One, and apparently Adaine Abernant is the new Oracle of the Elves. Kipperlily doesn't know what Fig, Fabian, or Gorgug's deals are yet, but if rumors are to be believed, then Riz Gukgak's dad was eaten by the very same Kalvaxus. Clearly the entire reason the Bad Kids are succeeding is because of their personal histories.

And to make matters worse, Oisin and Ivy managed to get the rest of the party to go along with the stupid Rat Grinders name. and Mary Ann didn't even have a reason for it! The only one who voted with her was Lucy. So now they've got a dumb name and no real adventuring prospects, and all the while, a bunch of kids who skip classes and get arrested are somehow getting perfect grades with no effort.

It's sophomore year and everything is terrible. The Rat Grinders meet every day to kill rats in the woods and it's dumb and boring, and not even a little bit difficult anymore, and she has to go to weekly councilor sessions with Jawbone, who's an ally of her rival adventuring party, which. Aguefort already clearly likes them, and even before he was resurrected they had managed to get two of their allies positions in the school. Which has to be an unfair advantage. And now Fig's dad is the vice principal rather than the lunch lad. It's really no wonder they never seem to get in trouble for skipping classes or any of their other bullshit.

At least she can use their connection with Jawbone to her advantage. Every meeting with him, she mines him for new information on the Bad Kids, who have been doing absolutely nothing so far this year.

It's sophomore year and The Rat Grinders are going to finally get their chance! Porter and Jace have approached her with the opportunity of a lifetime! Porter even said she shows a lot of promise! He doesn't even seem to take issue with his anger, and he says that he's going to help her become an amazing adventurer. All she has to do is accept this weird little rage star thing and start worshipping some dead god of rage. Kipperlily honestly isn't that much into religion, but this is the first interesting thing to happen to her all day. She's already working to convince Lucy to change her god.

It's sophomore year and even as Kipperlily is finally making progress, the Bad Kids are still showing her up. Somehow, they ended up fighting the Nightmare King himself, defeating him and somehow in the process, Kristen Applebees managed to ressurect a dead god of her own. It's bullshit and literally the only reason they manage to get back in time for the end of spring break is the direct intervention of the principal again. Plus now Fig has somehow managed to become an Archdevil and start dating Principal Aguefort's daughter. As if she wasn't already a rockstar.

It's sophomore year and Kipperlily's going to make the Rat Grinders the best adventuring party at Aguefort, even if it kills her.

It's junior year and the Bad Kids seemed determined to ruin her life. It's bullshit. They literally didn't even know who she was before this year, and they seem determined to ruin everything she's working towards. On the first day of school, they all collectively decided that Kristen was going to run for school president, seemingly as a bit, the exact second that they find out she's running. And immediately on meeting her they made fun of her fucking name for literally no reason.

It's junior year and everything's going to plan. Kristen's been expelled, and the Bad Kids are taking The Last Stand, and they've got the perfect opportunity to get rid of all the Bad Kids for good. And yet somehow Kristen fucking Applebees manages to ruin their fucking plans perfectly, spotting her out before she can succeed in killing the proctor and Buddy. Instead she has to kill Buddy and let Oisin take her away before the Bad Kids can do anything. So of course the Bad Kids get a literal perfect score on The Last Stand, and now they've all aced their classes for the whole year.

It's junior year and they're summoning a dead god. It's junior year and they find out as they're casting the spell, that the name they'd gotten was fucking wrong. It's junior year and despite all their preparations the Bad Kids have managed to get to the gymnasium with all their stupid fucking votes. It's junior year and Kipperlily is at least going to kill Riz. It's junior year and Riz literally dives into lava.

It's junior year and Kipperlily's going to kill Riz. He thinks he's hiding, but she can see him, and she's going to have to close with him, but this is her opportunity, and then she's in the air, and he's got her in a hold person spell, and she's falling, and she's in the lava, and it's so hot, and it burns, and then it's all gone.

It's junior year and Kipperlily is dead. It's junior year and she's in a world of crystal spines and lava, and in the reflections of the crystals, Kipperlily can see everything. She sees herself in those wretched meetings with jawbone, kicking at the leg of the chair, and she can see Jawbone asking her every fucking time, what can she do to become a better adventurer. As if it was ever in her control. As if she ever could have done anything. As if it wasn't all about her backstory the whole time. As if she weren't the boring daughter of two boring people. As if she had ever had a chance.

"Did you ever try?" She hears a voice ask. And then Ankarna is there. The god that she tried so hard to kill. "Did you ever really try to become a better adventurer, or did you just wait for it to happen to you?"

"I did everything I could!" Kipperlily insists. "It's unfair, why should they get all the advantages?"

"Were they really ever advantages? Or did you just decide they were?"

"You think those idiots deserved their success? All they ever do is screw around!"

"That is not what I have seen of them. Nor have I seen any better of you. Of course, you did your schoolwork and you did it to the letter, but when did you ever challenge yourself? When did you ever take a risk? When did you ever seek out a task that was more than what you felt certain you would succeed at? Would you have even have the courage to take part in Porter's plan if he had not personally trained you, ensured that you were all as powerful as possible? You insist that the Bad Kids are only successful because of their tragic history, but what of Gorgug? There is not one thing in his past that drives him and yet he has succeeded at doing things no one else has ever managed." Ankarna stares long and hard at her, and then she is gone and Kipperlily is alone again. With nothing in her death but her own thoughts to keep her company.

[just-here-with-my-thoughts]

Day 19: "Please Don't" / Adrenaline Crash

@febuwhump prompt: "Please Don't" @badthingshappenbingo prompt: Adrenaline Crash

Fandom: The Bad Batch Characters: Hunter, Omega, Wrecker, Tech, Echo (Did you read Day 5: Rope Burns / Bound & Gagged and Day 12: Semi-Conscious / Over-the-Shoulder Carry? This is a continuation! Follow the links above to catch up on the story so far) Word Count: ~3005 Click here to read on AO3 Also available in Russian (with thanks to @tech-o-mania for the amazing translation!)

Synopsis: Hunter loses control as he hunts down the mercenaries who captured and injured Omega.

Art by the awesome @collophora of my gorgeous Feral Hunter! Thank you so much for this beautiful pic and letting me post it with my fic, everyone go view collophora's original post HERE and tell them how great they are! <3

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Omega swings her legs as she sits on the edge of the table, watching as Tech methodically extracts embedded strands of hessian from the wound on her left wrist. Her right is already swathed in bandages, the bacta gel bringing a soothing numbness that dulls the pulsing pain to a background throb.

She draws her breath in as a hiss though her teeth at a particularly painful pull, and Tech glances at her to check she is okay. He doesn’t continue until she nods to give him permission to do so.

The com at the engineer’s wrist crackles to life. “Come in, Tech.” It is Wrecker’s voice, low and urgent.

Tech pauses his ministrations to answer the com. “What is it, Wrecker?”

“I need backup.”

The big clone’s voice over the com is deadly serious, none of his usual joviality.

“What is your status?” asks Tech, his voice taking on a more clipped edge.

“It’s Hunter.”

Tech quickly looks up at Echo, and Omega doesn’t miss the alarmed look that passes between them.

“Will you and Omega be alright by yourselves?” Tech asks, putting the tweezers back in the medkit and standing.

Echo nods, resting a hand on Omega’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about us. Go help Wrecker.”

“Help Wrecker with what?” asks Omega, getting to her feet and looking first at Tech, then Echo. “Are they in trouble?”

“You are still in need of treatment,” says Echo firmly, trying for a smile which comes out too tense to be reassuring. “I’m sure Tech will manage without us.” He gestures back to the table. “Sit back up, and I’ll finish your wrists.”

Tech is gathering his equipment, and Omega leans past Echo to see him set his pistol to stun.

“I want to go with Tech,” she protests softly. “I want to check that Hunter and Wrecker are okay.”

Echo and Tech exchange another look. Omega is getting pretty tired of the unspoken conversations they share with their eyes.

“Finish attending to Omega’s wounds,” says Tech eventually. “Then you may follow… carefully.”

*

Hunter’s pistol is in his left hand, balanced on his forearm which is crossed in front of his body, vibroknife held blade outwards. The hum of adrenaline is in his veins, pulse pounding, slowly building to a tense knot of pain at the base of his skull which will surely become a migraine later.

Two more mercenaries up ahead, just out of sight. He can hear them.

Hunter doesn’t have to think about softening his footfalls. The predator’s stealth comes naturally to him.

In moments he is around the corner and the two men are ten paces ahead, weapons out as they scout the corridor.

They don’t know that death shadows their movements.

In his ear, the com pings. Hunter shakes his head, shutting it off irritably. Not now. Whatever his brothers want, it can wait.

He rolls to his toes, picking up speed. Closes the gap in a sprint.

One shot with his pistol. The laser-burn eats through the first man’s skull. The second turns but Hunter is on him, and the vibroknife tears out his throat before he can cry for help.

Hunter pauses for a moment, surveys his work. That makes four of them he has eliminated now. Four of them who harmed his Omega. Four of them who will never threaten her again.

A high-pitched whine, like tinnitus, sets up in his head. He pulls his helmet off, rubbing his ears, trying to chase away the source of the sound.

His helmet is dropped to the floor, forgotten, as he sets off to find the rest of his quarries.

*

Tech tilts his datapad towards Wrecker. “I have picked up the bounty hunters’ com channel. They seem concerned that they cannot raise a number of their companions.”

Wrecker looks up from fitting binders to the two mercenaries he has captured. “Hunter won’t waste any time,” he says gruffly.

“He may have deactivated his com, but I can still track his locator beacon,” says Tech. “Leave these two here. We must catch up to Hunter as soon as we can.”

*

Hunter crouches on the narrow gangway, watching the knot of mercenaries in the hangar below. Five left. Their conversation drifts to him but it is just noise. He can’t make his head understand the words.

It doesn’t matter what they are saying. Hunter will be among them soon, and their words will give way to screams and then they will be dead. He plans to make sure of that.

The migraine closes its vice-like grip on his consciousness and Hunter pulls his bandana off, trying to ease the pressure at his temples. A faint aurora halos his vision, sparkling in the periphery. His back teeth ache.

He creeps along the perforated metal walkway, feeling it sway a little from the suspension cables that keep it aloft. He holsters the pistol, curling the fingers of that hand around the rail instead. His right hand continues to clutch the vibroknife like it is an extension of himself.

Almost directly above them. From here he can drop onto the group, break his fall with one of their bodies, before wreaking his vengeance.

Hunter climbs silently to the railing. Leans over the edge, gravity pulling at his body, braced now on the outside of the walkway.

Ready to drop.

*

Echo spots the pair of bodies before Omega does. He stops her with a hand on her shoulder and ventures forwards cautiously, already knowing what he will find.

He is surprised to see the half-skull of Hunter’s helmet staring up at him from between the fallen mercenaries. He scoops it up and checks the wiring. The com is undamaged. It has been deliberately disabled.

Behind him he hears Omega.

“Tech, come in. Did you find Wrecker and Hunter?”

She has her bandaged hands pressed to her com, trying to raise her brothers. Echo hurries back to her, Hunter’s helmet in hand. Omega’s eyes go wide as she sees it.

“Is Hunter okay?” she asks in a fearful whisper, reaching out to brush the side of the helmet. The fresh bandages across her palms come away stained red.

“Don’t worry,” mutters Echo, “it’s not his blood.”

There is a moment of confusion before the meaning of his words dawns on Omega. She leans past him to peer down the corridor. Two bounty hunters. Not unconscious. Dead.

“Oh,” she says in a small voice. Then, looking up at him with a determined frown, “We need to find Hunter.”

*

Wrecker and Tech press tightly to the door-frame, one on either side of the corridor that has brought them to this hangar. Tech’s datapad says this is where Hunter should be, but all they can see are the clustered mercenaries.

Wrecker is the first one to look up. His hands move in a quick signal sequence, drawing Tech’s attention to their brother in his ambush position.

“Hunter,” breathes Tech. And as though it is a command, Hunter drops.

The chaos is immediate. Hunter is amongst the mercenaries, pistol forgotten, knife indiscriminately biting through cloth and armour into flesh. Panicked cries answer his sudden appearance. Blaster fire greets him.

Tech and Wrecker recognise Hunter’s grunt of pain like it is their own. They take a single moment to share a nod, and then they too join the fray.

Wrecker charges in, shoulder down, crashing into a mercenary and knocking him away from Hunter. Tech skirts the edge of the hanger, diving into a roll to evade a stray blaster bolt. He comes up with his pistol ready, gaze flitting over the knot of combatants before choosing his target. He knows this is the quickest way to end this.

Omega’s voice comes over the com but doesn’t answer. He needs all his considerable wits about him if he wants to take down his younger brother.

He steadies his aim.

He fires at Hunter.

*

Somewhere beyond the roaring in his ears Hunter is dimly aware that he is injured. There is a lingering trace of heat as the laser-burn crawls against his skin, softened from deadly to merely painful by the layer of his armour. It slows him, but he doesn’t let it stop him.

He ducks a wild haymaker meant to knock him to the ground and comes up inside the man’s guard. The mercenary yells as Hunter’s forehead connects with his nose, blood gouting from the broken cartilage, and Hunter winces at the shout pierces his already tender headache.

The migraine is stabbing behind his eyes now, his vision winking in and out in bright flashes. He has to finish this fight soon, or he won’t be able to.

The sudden jolt of a stun blast catches him in the back. He feels the sensation ripple forwards across his chest, electric, followed by numbness. The blast threatens to short out his enhanced senses.

With difficulty he fights the blackness that follows the stun bolt, dragging his awareness back to the fight. Two others still standing. To his surprise, he realises Wrecker is one of them.

Then Hunter feels an attacker leap onto his back. He howls in panic and anger; instinct directs him to dip his body, rolling the assailant over his shoulder. He grabs them and slams them into the floor, a blow designed to stun.

Recognises the helmet. The goggles.

“Tech?” he slurs in confusion.

And, “TECH!” The shout is echoed by Wrecker, scooping up their fallen brother.

The final mercenary takes advantage of the distraction. Two blaster bolts hit into Wrecker’s back, staggering him, and he clutches Tech to his chest protectively. Hunter watches as the bounty hunter retreats, fleeing for the bikes they came in on.

His prey's footsteps are still reverberating at the edge of Hunter’s enhanced hearing when others approach from behind him. He whirls, sees Echo and Omega.

“What happened?” demands Echo, crossing to Hunter. With one hand he pushes Omega behind him, making sure she doesn’t step round and see the Sergeant. Doesn’t see the feral gleam in his eyes, the sharp and dangerous expression of his open-mouthed panting.

“I’ll find him.” Hunter’s voice is a subhuman growl. “I’ll end it.”

*

Omega paces anxiously, glancing towards the farthest exit to the hanger. Tech is conscious but dazed, propped up against a storage crate as Echo checks his pupils. She worries for Hunter, but she has been told to stay put.

Wrecker finishes restraining the still-living mercenaries and rolls his shoulders, easing out the stiffness of the injuries he sustained. His own blaster is loose in his hands, still set to stun.

The bodies have been hidden to one side, smeared trails of red marking the route they had been pulled. So much for out of sight, out of mind. Omega curls up over her injured hands, rubbing at her wrists through the bandages. The rope burns itch under the healing bacta gel.

“Tech will be fine,” reports Echo, “but one of us should stay with him. Omega?”

“I’m going after Hunter,” she announces, before she can be asked to play medic. She turns and looks at Echo with her mouth set in an unhappy line.

Echo calmly meets her gaze. “Hunter won’t want you to see him like this,” he says softly.

“Hunter needs me.” She is the embodiment of stubbornness. “I know it.”

Wrecker’s big hand touches her shoulder gently.

“I’ll keep her safe, Echo,” he says, voice strained with an ache of worry. He pushes his helmet back down onto his head, the snarling skull hiding the concern in his eyes.

“Let’s go, kid.”

*

Hunter is exhausted, muscles trembling as he forces them to continue. He has to do this. The image of Omega’s injuries is burned behind his retinas, the scent of her fear cloying. He failed to protect her once. He won’t do so again.

One more mercenary, and the job was done. There would be no-one left to threaten her. And if this group didn’t return, perhaps whoever was hunting them would think twice before sending more agents to kidnap her.

Protect Omega. Blood pounds in his head. Every footstep is a hammer-fall on the anvil of his overwrought senses.

Protect Omega.

A blaster shot hits his right hand. The vibroknife is flung free of his grasp, spinning into the air and embedding in the wall above his head. Hunter startles, the pain in his hand almost enough to stop him from evading the follow-up shot aimed for his heart. He twists at the last moment, the blaster bolt grazing his chest-plate.

Then his feral instincts are back, taking over, shutting down the thoughts that are distracting him and driving him forwards into the fight.

Hunter lunges, closing the distance to his would-be ambusher in a burst of speed that belies his injured state. He doesn’t remember that he has a pistol. Instead he barrels into the man, tackling him to the floor. The two of them roll, fighting for dominance, and Hunter comes out on top. Slugs the man. Pain explodes in his knuckles but he doesn’t stop. Again. And again.

Under the onslaught the mercenary’s face is transforming to a swollen, bloody pulp. He writhes and bucks under Hunter, throwing the sergeant off and scrambling for escape. Hunter leaps after him and they are back to brawling, only it isn’t a brawl. The man is sobbing, arms over his head, trying to shield himself from Hunter’s incoming blows. Pleas dribble with bubbled blood from broken lips. The man weeps for mercy.

Hunter’s onslaught continues. One more mercenary, and the job is done.

Protect Omega. Protect her at all costs.

*

Omega and Wrecker round the corner and Wrecker pulls them up short. Hunter is locked in combat with the final mercenary, the sickening sound of fist hitting flesh and the crepitus of broken bone reaching them across the otherwise empty room.

Omega recoils, watching the scene with fascinated horror. The brutality makes her sick to her stomach, but she can’t look away.

Hunter’s hair is loose, missing the bandana that usually tames it, and hangs lank and sweaty about his face. Blood streaks his fists and spatters his armour. The air is punctuated by his soft grunts and laboured breath, and the moans and whimpers emanating from the figure that is huddled beneath his fury.

Wrecker lays his hand on Omega’s shoulder, trying to coax her away. “Omega,” he says, and his voice quavers. He crouches in front of her, interposing himself between her and the brutal scene, and pushes his helmet back on his head to lock gazes with her.

“What is he doing?” Omega whispers in horror, brown eyes wide as she searches Wrecker’s face for answers.

Wrecker merely shakes his head. “You should get outta here, kid. Head back to the Marauder, wait for the others.”

He stands and turns away from her, dropping the blaster and moving towards Hunter with his hands held up defensively. It is like he is approaching a wild animal, wary of attack.

“Hunter, stop it. Please, vod. He’s down, he surrendered. This isn’t right.”

If Hunter hears him he gives no sign. His punches keep flying, sluggish but solid. His victim lets out a single broken sob.

Omega’s com chirps.

“Omega, are you alright?” It is Tech, his voice weak-sounding as he recovers from concussion.

“We found Hunter,” she whispers, riveted on Wrecker’s careful advance.

Wrecker nears Hunter and his victim, one hand extended. “It’s me, Hunt,” he says, softening the brash edge of his voice. “Time to stop. Okay, vod?”

Hunter doesn’t hear him. Or ignores him. It is hard to tell.

“Is Wrecker able to handle the situation?” asks Tech.

Omega shakes her head. “No,” she says, voice trembling with determination. “But if Wrecker can’t make Hunter stop, I will.”

“Be careful, Omega,” Tech warns her, and she steels herself for what is to come.

She steps past Wrecker, ducks to evade his grasp as he tries to stop her. On shaky legs she closes the distance. Hunter, her Hunter, is a creature she does not recognise. Ruthless, bloodstained, no glimpse of gentleness or mercy.

Hunter leans back, winding up for a huge hit. Omega darts in front of him, catching hold of his fist, levelling her intense brown-eyed stare into the wildfire of his fury.

Omega positions herself directly in front of the exhausted sergeant. Hunter is on his knees, tattooed face glazed in sweat and blood that almost certainly does not belong to him. His shoulders heave as he gulps in great lungfuls of air.

“Don’t,” she says. A plea. A command. “Please don’t.”

For a moment Hunter’s eyes turn glassy and unfocused, pupils trembling with rapid dilations before he eventually blinks and manages to fix his gaze on the girl before him.

“Omega?” he croaks weakly, and staggers to his feet. He sways a little, then replants his feet and braces a hand against her shoulder to steady himself. “You’re meant to be with Tech.”

Unexpectedly, he retches. Omega takes a startled step back as Hunter heaves bile, his whole body trembling. When he is done he wipes his mouth slickly on the back of his hand, glancing round in confusion.

Wrecker steps forwards, caution still written in his posture. “Hey, Hunter,” he says softly, a greeting to his brother as he returns to his senses.

Hunter sags against Omega, his arms going round her in relief, and she can feel the uncontrolled quaking of his body as adrenaline fatigue truly sets in.

Quickly Wrecker steps in to support him, taking some of his weight from Omega. But Omega wraps her arms tightly round Hunter’s waist, pressing her face against his chest, ignoring the scent of blood and blaster-fire as she feels his trembling hand run through her hair.

“I forgive you, Hunter,” she whispers, fingers digging into the cracks of his armour as they both cling to each other with equal ferocity. “I forgive you.”

[just-a-little-silly]

Ikemen Sengoku: Arundhati☀️

A Character Profile (Sort of)

Taglist!

@queengiuliettafirstlady @ike-garden2024 @sh0jun @welp-back-on-my-bs @colourless-hydrangeas @oda-princess @obeymetalesandikemen

Thank you guys for liking Arundhati <33 It means the world!! And as always please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the list!!

Name: Arundhati Ayyadurai

Brief Profile.

Meanings:

•Arundhati- Washed by the rays of the sun

•Ayyadurai- Clever

‘Aru’ - [A shortened version of her first name.]

A name she allows those who struggle to pronounce ‘Arundhati’ call her + used by most (if not all) acquaintances and close friends.

Date of Birth: February 5th.

Place of Birth: Kerala, India.

Positions/Occupations:

[Former]: Undergrad at California Institute of Technology (Caltech).

She got a Bachelor of Science degree in Chemistry and double majored in Aerospace Engineering.

[Former]: Model.

An international ambassador for luxury brands [ie. Chanel, Dior, Prada, etc]. Her responsibilities included participating in model campaigning for companies, attending shows and managing brand publicity. She enjoyed her work quite a bit and started working at the age of 20.

[Current]: Kunoichi.

She’s worked for several spy masters of the Sengoku Era. Notably, Mochizuki Chiyome and Takeda Shingen. She currently serves as one of Shingen’s famed Mitsumono.

Current + Most Notable Relationships with the Canon Cast:

Sarutobi/Mikumo Sasuke: Her canon partner.

Arundhati’s main ship is with Sasuke.

Takeda Shingen: Shingen is a father figure to Arundhati and in turn he sees her as a daughter.

Uesugi Kenshin: Kenshin and Arundhati come to see each other as siblings. Oftentimes he will call her his kunoichi (much to Shingen’s ever so slight displeasure considering she is one of his Mitsumono).

—> In truth, Arundhati is both a Mitsumono and a Nokizaru (unofficial but everyone who knows her also knows that she’s just as loyal to Kenshin).

*More will be added later on.

• Alternate AU ships: There are alternate versions of events where Arundhati ends up with the following warlords/characters:

Oda Nobunaga and Date Masamune.

Admittedly, these ships are yet to be explored in depth (I just think the dynamics are interesting.)

More Notable Details:

• Arundhati’s main titles are “Bronze Blade” (her more initial title) and “Kunoichi of The Shining Sun” (what people call her the more prolific she gets).

• Arundhati wears a mask when in her ninja attire for the sake of total anonymity.

A sketch of her mask:

• Arundhati is very proud of being Indian and almost always tries to incorporate her culture into her attire and accessories.

• She speaks fluent English, French, Tamil and Japanese

• Arundhati’s main motifs and symbolisms all relate back to the sun.

• Since all the canon IkeSen characters have animals, Arundhati’s would be a lioness named Mihira.

Brief Background (pertaining to how she traveled back in time):

Aru’s story starts in Paris where she was finalizing arrangements for her marriage to one of her closest college friends and Michelin star chef, Gaël.

She’d been dating Gaël for a few years at that point and didn’t think twice when accepting his proposal. However, their relationship hadn’t always been the best but both parties were trying to ignore how fast it was all falling apart in lieu of focusing on their respective careers.

It all truly burns down when Aru gets a message from her manager informing her of a particularly amazing opportunity to take part in a modeling campaign and establish her own makeup line based in Kyoto. She found it absolutely perfect since both her father and elder sister Ichiyo were based there (context: Aru’s mother, Janaki Ayyadurai, divorced Aru’s father and remarried a Japanese businessman, Harue Akiyama, when Arundhati was eight. Harue coincidentally had a daughter named Ichiyo. Arundhati and Ichiyo became two peas in a pod in record time and have been each other's closest confidants ever since). Ecstatic, she ran into Gaël’s arms when he came home from work that day to tell him the news. Yes, it would mean pushing back dates of their engagement by a few months, potentially close to a year but that wasn’t too much to ask, was it? After all, the opportunity Aru had in front of her wasn’t likely to pop up again. To her it was now or never and she thought Gaël would be supportive.

Gaël was not supportive.

Gaël was furious.

He lashed out at Aru with venomous words, questioning why she refused to get a “legitimate job” with her degree that she’d worked so hard for. In the end, he proposed an ultimatum: the job or being his bride. Heartbroken and rather furious herself, Aru was forced to realize just how awful her relationship with Gaël really was, how little he valued her and how unhappy she was through it all. She ended up breaking off the marriage, the engagement, all of it, then and there.

She booked the next available flight to Kyoto and was off.

She arrived in Kyoto in the wee hours of the morning, entirely unaware that by midnight of that very day, she would find herself 500 years in the past.

But before that, a party.

Arundhati had texted a group chat of her closest, most valued people in her life (apart from her parents) about the situation. She needed good drinks and her loved ones. And thus, she found herself surrounded by friends and cheer in the penthouse apartment her father had bought for her and her sister, overlooking the sparkling cityscape of Kyoto.

That night, after a few too many drinks, the group found themselves wandering the city. They come across the Honnoji monument when thunder claps in the distance and lightning flashes across the sky. A torrent of rain whips down upon them all and in a matter of moments, they’re gone, separated, sent tumbling through time and space- spread far and wide across the Sengoku Era (also yes, the others in the group are all my other OCs for this verse).

Arundhati arrived in the province of Iga in the year of 1578.

(this would be roughly around the time Sasuke arrives in Echigo and four years before Mai in Azuchi).

Now, “arrived” is a rather plain way to put it. You see, she actually happens to crash straight through the roof of one Mochizuki Chiyome’s home. Chiyome would go on to become one of Arundhati’s very first mentors. She teaches Arundhati all the ninja arts in her possession, shaping her to be a legendary kunoichi. While her life is an undeniably dangerous one, it’s also quiet, still and on a good day, tranquil.

That changes two years into her time in the Sengoku Era.

Takeda Shingen, a famed warlord characterized by his brutality in battle and vast, interconnected network of spies, the Mitsumono, comes to hear about some “bronze blade”.

In all honesty, he thought it to be some funky, insane new weapon at first until he heard various accounts and realized they were just about an insanely talented ninja. A ninja who was ridiculously hard to find.

Yet the second the tracks point towards Iga, he’s able to contact someone who most certainly knows quite a lot about this “bronze blade”.

To keep it brief, Shingen and Chiyome are contacts of one another and he manages to get Chiyome to introduce Aru to him. Rather, he gets Chiyome to let him spectate a training session she takes part in anonymously.

It's worth noting that by this time Ichiyo had started a life in Echigo and had mentioned a few times that she had a sister who looked nothing like her, a foreigner and thus, Shingen knew right away that he was looking at Arundhati.

Things go very quickly from there. Shingen reveals his identity, the fact that he knows where Ichiyo is and that he is willing to take her in as a Mitsumono. She accepts and begins the new chapter of her life in the Sengoku Era in Echigo under the banner of the Takeda.

Aru is reunited with her sister and is a crushing, humongous, gargantuan disappointment to Kenshin who thought Shingen was going to bring back a funky blade to spar with. Arundhati responds to this by saying she would very much like the opportunity to kill him. Kanetsugu then recoils in horror and Kenshin has found an addition to his very small collection of favorite people.

—x—

Something I admittedly do not touch upon as much as I should is the effect that such a drastic life change has on Arundhati. This feels like a rather obvious point but I do want to mention it. Aru is light, she’s naturally a warm, welcoming, magnetic person. People find themselves drawn to her because she is charismatic and is able to charm a crowd with ease. At least that’s how she was before traveling to a much darker, much colder time.

Her experience as a ninja obviously reshapes her, changes very core things about her. Here, Aru is otherworldly, distant, detached- just as bright and eye-catching but unreachable, ethereal. Only a handful of people (the court of Echigo, and a few others) can see past that veil.

It’s also worth mentioning that Arundhati is not always a kind person, nor an understanding one (she tries to be but does fail at times), at least not right after the events of traveling back in time.

Even though she is perceptive and loyal, she can be equally as ruthless, have tunnel vision and has lost a part of her compassion throughout the years as a result of what she’d been through herself and what has been done to others. That being said, Arundhati grows. She learns to find the light she once lost and slowly becomes a new version of the person she once was.

[grimalkenkid]

Yanqing wishes the General would get angry with him.

Not because he wants to be the source of his father’s ire, but because Jing Yuan’s disappointment is so much worse.

When Yanqing was young, he’d mess up every day. He’d break a pot, or trip running up the stairs, or say something hurtful that he really didn’t mean. And the General would just chuckle and say that accidents happen. “They’re merely learning opportunities.”

But as he grew, that chuckle vanished, replaced with a heavy sigh. The accidents got worse. Yanqing would hurt someone during training, or ignore orders, or challenge villains far above his skill level. And the General would sigh and shake his head. He never yelled as he told Yanqing what kind of trouble he’d gotten himself into. Jing Yuan would never raise his voice to his son.

But Yanqing wishes he would.

He could handle anger. He could handle frustrated tirades and tongue lashings.

But Yanqing could see in his father’s weary eyes, there was hope and it was dimming. It was an unspoken “You can do better. You know better.” And it hurts far more than any beating.

The General never gets angry at Yanqing.

So Yanqing gets angry at himself.

[type-a-sentinull]

Happy valentines day!!!! Have I ever talked about how much I love you guys? No? Well get ready because I’m about to because it’s Valentines and I have an excuse to be a sap

sort of going randomly here so none of these are in any pattern

anyways!!

@lifemod17 : Hello! I haven’t know you for very long, but it already feels like I’ve known you for ages! Even if we don’t interact a whole lot past the exchanging of skies, I still love it when you come across my dash! The unique and thoughtful ways you respond to every ask are so amazing, making everyone feel heard no matter what was said. Love talking to you, and I hope your day is full of the love you show everyone else!

@hookedhobbies Heya! We don’t talk a whole lot, I know. But I still really like it when I see your profile. You are an absolutely amazing writer, no matter what you write. And it probably doesn’t mean much from me—especially not this late—but I’m so proud of you for passing the bar exam! You’re so incredibly smart and creative and it’s always wonderful seeing whatever you come up with next. I hope you have a wonderful day, and that you and Mr.Kate enjoy your Valentines!

@tonguetyd hihi! We definitely haven’t been moots long, lol. I may not have much to say yet, but I can already tell that you’re an amazing person just based on how you interact with other people! Plus, your contributions to the ST space are so wanted, they’re so neat frfr- hope your Valentines was awesome!!

@corviisquire helloo! We don’t talk much past ocs, but I just wanted to say: you are. super awesome!!! your art is amazing, no matter what you create. (Plus I’m a little obsessed with Varre and Constantine, lol) Love seeing you on my dash!! Hope you had a good Valentines :33

@boy-oh-boyflux-bitch hey mate! I know we definitely don’t talk a lot, but it’s always nice seeing you pop up! Even if I don’t get much of Saw, it’s really cool seeing what you contribute to the fandom!! Hope your Valentines was super awesome!

@mongooseundertheporch Hey Will! I hope that you and everyone you know are doing well. We haven’t talked in a little while, but I just wanted to drop by and wish you a happy Valentines! [And as for you, Roach, I hope everything has been going well for you! It’s always super fun seeing you cross my dash, whether as Will or not. Hope your Valentines has been/went well!]

@thatfuckinjester Jesterr!!!! Hey there friend :D Really hope you’re doing good! Haven’t interacted in a hot second, but every time I see one of your posts I smile a little. You are an amazing writer (no matter what the anons I smited may think) and so so creative!!! The angst you make is just so delicious and hurts the feels in all the right ways. Hope you get some good sleep, and I hope your Valentines goes well :)

@ouijamonstrr Halo, hello! I know we don’t talk much outside of me sending you the occasional bug, but you’re such a cool person!! Musician AND entomologist?? WHAT!!!! Being so awesome is a crime man—Anyways, in all seriousness: it is super amazing seeing you around and having you as a moot, and I hope your Valentines goes well!!

@miss-multi45 Short queen, lol— Yet ANOTHER cool writer moot!!!!! I always love reading what you write, no matter the character! (and i certainly don’t mind finding new hot men to thirst over, lmao) Ur super awesome-sauce, and I hope your Valentines goes well!!

Finally, last and but certainly not least, my husband x2. @polteergeistt . You strange and peculiar bastard/affectionate. You have been such an amazing influence on my life. Did you know you were the first person I ever interacted with on Tumblr? It was so cool, seeing someone I genuinely thought was super amazing respond to my dumb little facts! I’ve always felt safe to be myself around you, because I know that no matter what I say or do I just get the freak thrown right back at me. I’m so happy I get to know you and talk to you so often, even if the conversations aren’t anything meaningful. I hope your Valentines went amazingly, and I’m definitely chomping ur fingers while we eat carmelly shit together >:3

Anyways with all the sap aside, I hope everyone had an amazing day filled with everything you enjoy! I’m sending heart-shaped lollipops and dumb little cards to every single one of you in my heart :33

[quinloki]

Random ass Eustass Kid one shot.

College AU I guess.

Reader just got dumped, no pronouns used. Kid calls ‘em Mouse because I love it when Kid calls the reader Mouse so you’re probably going to see that in Every Single Kid Fic I Ever Write.

SFW, comfort

Cheesy

“You alright?”

The gruff familiar voice crashes over you like rain, and you dry your tears hastily before glancing up at him. You can’t feign contact long though, and look away.

“Yeah.” You say, with a defeated huff.

There’s a pause, and it’s almost awkward. You’ve never known Kid to suffer awkwardness.

“You sure?” He prompts, sitting down beside you. There was no shaking him now, but you weren’t sure you wanted you to.

“Yeah.” You say a little more energetically. “I’ll make it.”

Kid snorts, looking around a little before he rummages in his pack and pulls out a candy bar and a soda. “Anything you want me to deal with?”

You laugh, a sharp barked sound, taking the offered snacks without arguing. You know what kind of help Kid’s good at, and it’s not diplomatic, that’s for fucking sure.

“Nah. It won’t fix it.” You admit, wiping a tear that’s pricked the side of your eye for a different reason.

“Might make ya’ feel better.” He offers, pulling out another soda and opening it for himself.

You smile, the concern is appreciated at least. “It… won’t. Is what it is, I just need to move on.”

“… it woulda made me feel better.” He grouses, and you look over to see his ears are pink.

You look away at the implication and busy yourself with the candy bar for a few long moments. It’s comfortable around him, always has been. He’s just too loud, too proud, too dangerous for you.

It wouldn’t work.

At least that had been what you told yourself when you’d turned him down, picking a different guy to date a few months ago. Kid had warned there wouldn’t be another chance, he wasn’t someone who waited around for a pretty piece of ass. It had almost been a fight between you two, the first real one you maybe ever had.

“I… thought you were gonna move on.” You murmur quietly.

The silence stretched on for long enough you figured that was the end of the conversation. Eustass Kid wasn’t going to dent his pride for someone, no matter who they were. One of the guys maybe, someone who’d been in his life for decades. You could see him pushing aside his pride for Killer or Heat or Wire, if he had no other choice.

Still, it was nice to have someone around while you shrugged off the pieces of a failed relationship. Besides, you wouldn’t risk treating Kid like some rebound.

You shift a little, trying to find the words to say farewell for now, but Kid gets up. A heavy hand ruffles your hoodie against your hair, pushing your head down as you grumble at him.

“When you’re ready to give some flaky loser another shot, Mouse, let me know first.” He says, in a voice that’s trying to sound flippant.

“You’re not a flaky loser,” you retort, scrambling to your feet. “I don’t want you to say that about-!”

Kid turns on his heel suddenly facing you, hand wrapped in your hoodie as he pulls you into a rough kiss.

The action shatters your brain, so sudden and desperate and needy you don’t know what to do but sink into him. The kiss breaks and his eyes are locked on yours, a crooked grin on his face.

“Not how I meant that, Mouse.” He hums, in a voice soft and sure and devastatingly sweet to your ears.

He lets you go, turning and walking away. “Think it over. I’m not stupid enough to let you go if you’re dumb enough to pick me.”

[copper-skulls]

huevember #2 - she who guards the molten core

[kingofanemptyworld]

pokémon: verdant winds —beginnings and endings

WBK Pokémon AU | 1.5k

In the middle of the ash-painted hills just east of Fallarbor, Sakura sits in the shade of a rocky overhang, relying on its scant protection against the volcanic debris to keep himself mostly clean. The jacket’s a hand-me-down from a relative he only met twice, and his shoes might as well as never have had tread to begin with with how badly he’s worn down the soles. It’s not the clothes he cares about, really, it’s the pokéball cupped in his hands that he’s been staring at for god knows how long.

He presses the center button and the pokéball expands to fit perfectly in the curve of his palm. He presses it again so that it shrinks into a size he can hold between his thumb and forefinger. Presses the button, expand, presses it again, shrink. Rinse, repeat, like those games he’s seen other kids play with flowers.

He loves me, he loves me not. He loves me, he loves me not.

Stupid way to make a decision, in his opinion. No flower’s gonna be able to tell you what a person thinks of you. It’s actions that matter, not words, and not hearsay. The only thing you can rely on is your own damn judgment. Whether you can see through the facade is on you and you alone.

He loves me…

Expand.

He loves me not…

Shrink.

There’s a weight in Sakura’s hand that doesn’t match the size of the pokéball, big or small, and there’s a weight on his chest that he tries to breathe through, forcing air past his too-tight throat.

Love has nothing to do with this — it’s got nothing to do with other people, either. He has a choice to make, that’s all. Which he can’t do until a certain someone shows their face and gives him a chance to answer the question he’d been asked when this pokéball was first dropped unceremoniously into his lap.

The ash continues to fall, smearing across Sakura’s shoes when he kicks out in a frustrated shuffle. He could have stayed holed up in his house today, avoiding the townspeople and traveling contest participants alike. He wouldn’t be dusty then, at least. His parents wouldn’t notice or care about the mess — they won’t be home for another week, the conference they’d been asked to attend was in Sootopolis and they’d gone by cruise. But he’d still have to clean up after himself, and it’s a bitch to mop the floors every time he comes back from Route 113.

“Shit.”

Sakura stows the pokéball in his pocket, shrunken, and pushes himself to his feet. He brushes off his shoulders and the front of his jacket as best he can, ignoring the soot he can feel settling in his hair. He shouldn’t have bothered waiting all this time. They’ll be leaving Fallarbor in less than a month, anyway, so there’s no point in—

Pebbles skitter down from the overhang above him just as Sakura moves to step out. A shadow sails over him, blurry and indistinct among the drifting ash, and then there’s a body blocking his path.

Absol.

He cuts a striking figure in an otherwise desolate-looking landscape. Bright white fur, sharp claws that glide easily through the soil. Curving horn that carves straight through the air ahead of him.

He’d scared the shit out of Sakura the day they met. Appearing out of nowhere from the underbrush, on the heels of a Sandshrew frantically trying to dig itself an escape route, and nearly flattening Sakura in the process.

The anger had come first, quick and blistering the way it always was — is — and Sakura had snapped out some insult he can’t even remember now. Absol had turned a cool, assessing look on him, abruptly ignoring the Sandshrew even as its tail disappeared into the earth. They’d stared each other down, unmoving — until the rockslide started Sakura into taking cover.

When the dust settled and he’d realized what had happened (two Skamory fighting over scraps gouged a chunk of rock out of a nearby cliff, which knocked everything loose in its path to the ground), Sakura had found Absol standing over him, his piercing eyes on the fallen rocks.

That Sandshrew would’ve gotten crushed.

The thought hit him like a truck. Absol had chased the other pokemon out of the danger zone, and prevented Sakura from moving into it. And not by accident.

He’d heard stories about Absol; you couldn’t grow up in this region without getting your ear talked off by some crotchety old person with their own harrowing tale of disaster from their youth. Absol was a bad omen, a sign of impending doom. They only showed up right before a fire, or a storm; even experienced trainers rarely saw them out in the wild unless trouble was brewing.

But they didn’t cause the disasters, did they? They acted as a warning.

When the Absol finally turned to leave, Sakura didn’t expect they’d ever cross paths again.

Every time Sakura ventured out onto Route 113, though, Absol found him. He watched, in the beginning, from high vantage points. He came closer whenever Sakura stayed still for long enough, as infrequent as that was.

Sakura started — talking, at some point. To himself! Just thinking out loud, so the quiet, dampening effect of the ash wasn’t quite so prominent. Dumb things, inconsequential things, like complaining about stubbing his toe against a chair that morning, or the unsubtle stares from the kids lingering outside the contest center. One day Absol started talking back. Little growls and chirps and weird vocalizations Sakura didn’t have a name for.

And now they’re here, with Absol standing in front of him, head cocked in question, and Sakura feeling for the pokéball in his pocket.

“I’m, uh.” Sakura winces, clenching his hand around the pokéball. “You dropped this,” he says, ripping his hand free of his pocket and uncurling his fingers enough to reveal the pokéball. “Before. Last time I was out here.”

Absol continues to regard him silently, like a goddamn statue. Sakura curses and lets the pokéball roll from his hand, where it drops to the ground and rolls to a stop right in front of Absol’s neatly tucked paws.

“Y’have it back now,” Sakura says, gruff, turning his head so he’s not making eye contact with Absol. “So we’re… good.”

He scuffs his heel in the dirt, hands shoved into his pockets, shoulders hunched. Still looking away from Absol. And he can’t even say why, exactly, this is getting to him so much. He’s leaving, he’s not a trainer, he’s — Sakura Haruka.

He’s used to this. He’s had to get used to this.

Something nudges against his foot.

Sakura looks down instinctively. The pokéball’s just bounced off his sneaker, rocking back and forth for a moment before falling still. He raises his eyes slightly to see Absol bent down, eyes rolled up to look back at him, clearly having just sent the ball back towards him.

Sakura’s shoulders drop even as his fingers curl into the fabric of his pants. “What, Pick Up ain’t your ability?” He knows it’s not, he’d looked it up before. Purely to know what he was dealing with. “You dropped a pokéball in my lap,” he reminds Absol, “and the only other thing I can think of is—“

He cuts himself off, scowling.

“Not a trainer,” he says, narrowing his eyes at Absol, who returns his stare, unblinking. “I’m not doing the gym challenge, or contests, or… or anything cool. You don’t wanna come with me, alright?”

In answer, all Absol does is raise his head and lift his paw to trap the pokéball. Without taking his eyes off Sakura, he rolls the ball forward again, placing it firmly between Sakura’s feet.

Sakura’s ears burn and he furiously scrubs a hand over his face, knowing full well it won’t do anything to wipe away the red scrawled across his cheeks.

God, fuck, he hates this. Absol is offering— and he’s so stuck on the what-ifs, so unsettled by the possibility of anything working out in his favor.

His thoughts snag on the excuse he’s just given. I’m not doing the gym challenge. He isn’t, and until now he hasn’t been interested in it. Hasn’t had a Pokémon to take it on with.

He thinks of the empty house he’ll be walking back into. The weeks of radio silence from his parents. The promise of always sticking around a town just long enough for him to become the local pariah before he’s uprooted again and again and again.

Sakura crouches down, slowly. Plucks up the pokéball, slides his thumb over the button. It expands to fit snugly in his grip, and Absol picks himself up and pads closer, until he’s practically nose-to-nose with Sakura.

“Don’t come cryin’ to me if you regret this later.”

Absol squints at him — almost like a smile — and butts his nose against the pokéball, triggering it to open. He disappears in a flash of red light, and the pokéball rocks in his grip. Once, twice, three times — the button lights up and something in Sakura’s chest unravels.

He holds onto the pokéball all the way back to Fallarbor, full-sized and warm against his palm.

Three days later, he registers himself for the gym challenge and doesn’t look back.

[nomelwelloy]

Legolss drabble / imagine | Legolas x reader

☆彡

Legolas nimbly dismounts his horse, giving it a soft pat as he hands it over to the stable hand, before he navigates the winding streets of the White City, up steep flights of stairs, weaving through fish markets and stone gardens, until he reaches the shopping streets and dips into the jeweller’s store.

You look up at the rattle of the door chime and a smile blooms on your face, as does a warm feeling in your chest. “Legolas,”

“Darling,” he says with a quiet rush of air, like the sight of you has stolen his breath. His smile mirrors yours, and his eyes shine. “My apologies for the wait,” he pads around the counter, peering at your workstation. He touches your shoulder, desperate for the slightest connection to you even while you’re in the midst of work, yet cautious enough of your task at hand.

When you secure the final ringlet to the headband, however, it is swiftly set aside to crush him in your arms.

Almost like a competition, Legolas squeezes you as tightly, taking a deep breath as he presses his face into your shoulder. You do the same, tightening your hold while he waltzes the two of you into the middle of the shop, doing a little spin on the spot.

He smells of fresh earth and jasmine and ozone, but his hair carries the slightest hint of his citrus-scented wash. This tugs at your heart, and you’re suddenly hit with immense nostalgia; brief flashes of memories in Mirkwood, of days spent lounging in bed, sparring and racing one another through the forest’s twisting, ancient trees, and stargazing by those said trees, sometimes falling asleep to her soothing winds and quiet lullaby. Legolas would watch over you when you do, his hands soft on your hair in absentminded ministrations.

You sigh into his neck. “I’ve missed you,”

You can feel his smile, and his hand comes up to the back of your neck, stroking fondly. “As did I,” he brushes over your lips with his own. “My love,” he presses a littler firmer. “My starlight,” Legolas steals another breath, his mouth moving ardently against yours. “Meleth nin,”

You melt against him before you even know it, going weak in the knees when that familiar term of endearment slips past his lips. You’ve ached to hear it for months, imagined it on lonely nights and busy days until finally, your lover is before you, quelling the absolute longing you didn’t know was so intense, until he stepped through the door.

Your eyes are closed, relishing in his warmth when you hear a noise from outside. Cracking open one eye, your face flushes when you see one of your regulars knocking the glass window, a teasing grin plastered into her face. You instantly move away, groaning inwardly with a little wave, and you are already begging for the floor to open up and swallow you whole right there.

“Hello, hello!”

The door jingles, and Legolas turns, naturally placing himself between you and her. “Good afternoon,”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt such a sweet moment,” she giggles, pressing a hand to her mouth. “I just wanted to check on that order I placed,” she gestured, “the hair piece?”

You clear your throat and straighten yourself, going behind the counter to retrieve the package. “Here,” you pass it to her and receive her payment. “Just in time for the festival too,” you add, but her arching grin makes it difficult for you to continue being polite.

“Oh yes,” she glances between the two of you with another sweet smile, “Everyone will be there, it’s going to be wonderful!” she hugs the package to her chest. “It’s about to start! Don’t want to be late,” she turns to Legolas before she leaves, shooting him another grin. “It was so lovely to meet you, I’ll see you two later!”

When the door finally shuts, you groan, cursing quietly, much to Legolas’s amusement.

“She… she’s a bit of a gossip,” you explain, head in your hands. “Always nosying about other people’s lives…” you huff in exasperation. “Oh, she’ll have the time of her life with this!”

“We cannot let her have all the fun.” Legolas grabs your hand and he twirls you on the spot. “Shall we go too? I even brought the tunic you liked,”

You feign a gasp. “You came all prepared! How devious!”

Legolas laughs, pressing a kiss to your temple, gently rocking you sideways in a little dance. “It has been too long,”

You hum in agreement, letting a brief silence settle as you consider the idea of going, of all this time and distance you’ve spent apart, waiting and making do with irregular letters and quiet longing.

You feel the adrenaline begin to build in your veins, and with a firm resolve you twirl Legolas around, catching him close to you. “It is decided! A festival we shall go, and a gift I have prepared, for my princely elf.”

The handmade circlet that rests upon his head is perhaps your finest work to date: Thin silver curling gently in ornamental half ellipses upon his forehead, encasing a small round moonstone in the center, metal curving around it like vines. It’s random moments throughout the night when you dance and drink and laugh yourselves silly until your stomachs hurt, and Legolas has to catch you before you trip over yourself, when the circlet catches the light and reflects the same soft shine in his gaze towards you. It is stirring, and it makes the months of waiting and yearning all seem like a foggy memory, now that you are back in each others arms.

☆彡

a/n: more of an idea dump that just kept going until it became this! I am not entirely clear on the city’s layout and have written it very generically but I find it quite fun to come up with things esp given it’s awesome structure?? hope you enjoyed reading it though! (also thank you for all the love on the most recent Legolas drabble ;; <3333)

[darlingsart]

The Rest of Our Lives Chapter 27: Till the End (Part Two)

The final chapter is finally here!

Chapter Summary:

With the palace thrown into chaos and the king of Ithaca here to collect their son, Achilles and Patroclus scramble to figure out their next steps. Meanwhile, Maximus makes an impulsive decision that will change everything.

Achilles did not end up being the hero he had imagined, but he was happy. All these years, Patroclus made him happy, their children, this life they built together, it was more than he could have ever asked for, the very reason for his joy. He feels foolish now, thinking back to that moment. How he believed, even after all this time, that they somehow managed to defy Fate. 

That they were different. 

Ordinary people who got to have their happy ending. 

“This is all my fault,” Achilles finally says. 

“It’s not–” 

“It is. I was born into this curse, and I thought I could undo it, I thought… But I’ve only passed it down to our son, and now I’ve made a mess of everything. What are we going to do?” 

****

Start the series from the beginning Here! Happy reading! 💕

[never-afters]

"soon" you mean never?

Hi, anon! The moment I woke up this morning, your message was among the first things in my notifications. And, well, that's one thing of incorporating my username to my writing.

I've thought long and hard how to answer your question to make sure I don't come off rude or anything, but I've also just been busy the whole day as I was out and about doing my fieldwork so in any case, I apologize for responding late. To answer your question, no, I definitely do not mean never. Sure, I don't update weekly, because what will I even say? Hey, I added *insert random wordcount here*, I've been busy though so writing has been slow. Because I'm telling you, if I do that I'll end up sounding like a broken record.

And I think I've been clear that I said this is not my main project or whatsoever. It's a hobby, something I do when I have time or when I need to relax from real life and my academics. I do not get paid from this because as I said, pure hobby, an outlet I use for the creativity (or what's left of it, anyway) in my head.

To actually give a reason, I will be going into more personal details of my life. First, my university life is not easy, and I think none of us have it easy, may it be in the academe, work, or life in general. I study anthropology and it's a program heavy with lots of readings and fieldworks, so the time I could use for writing, I save for reading classics and doing fieldworks instead. Secondly, one of my parents has been hospitalized and I'm taking care of 4 siblings and 7 pets. The responsibilities are shared, sure, but the burden can be heavy when you try to juggle your life, academics, and social relationships, add to that the hobby you're supposed to do to have fun. And third, I, myself, am not as healthy as one would normally be. I have three life-long illnesses that make me weaker than most, hence why I can't stay up late to find the time to write and why sometimes, I just don't have enough energy to think and move.

I hope that is enough of an answer to at least put you at ease that I'm working on it, albeit not as fast as the other creators you follow. Maybe you didn't mean to be rude, and some part of me do understand. However, the other is just a teensy weensy bit hurt as well. Kindness and understanding goes a long way, you know? Also, I know I haven't really good with setting deadlines for myself but I know that I get things done at the end of the day. My day-one readers know me. It's sad that the old demo disappeared alongwith dashingdon shutting down, but at least know that my story will come back.

If you can't wait, then that is fine. There are hundreds, maybe even thousands, of stories you can read instead. I am not forcing you to stay and wait 'til I get mine finished for public access. I do not ask you to believe my reasons as well, but I know that I have been honest with disclosing such personal information here to at least let you know the reasons why I'm quick with any progress. I will include proofs, but I don't want to disclose even more sensitive information that will risk my privacy.

Still, thank you for being interested in my story. Some part of me will take this as a compliment, anon, because maybe you're just so excited that you're starting to feel impatient. So then again, I apologize, but sending a message like this won't make me write any faster. Anyhow! Have a good night, or day, or afternoon, or whatever timezone you're in! :)

Have some cute heart urchins from the museum I visited today in my country! :D