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yandere-daydreams · 3 months

Text

Title: Ferine.

Pairing: Yandere!Toji x Reader (JJK).

Word Count: 4.1k.

TW: Hybrid AU, Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Slight Manipulation, Rough Sex, Oral Sex, Knotting, Mentions of Blood + Violence, Slight Breeding, and Biting.

Toji was, by far, the largest hybrid you’d ever taken care of.

Which, technically speaking, wasn’t that big of an accomplishment. This was barely your third month at the research facility, and you could count the number of hybrids you’d encountered before being hired here on a single hand. Still, even compared to the other wolves you currently looked after, Toji was beyond impressive. His long, pointed ears and stocky build set him well above six-foot, and even if he’d lacked height, he would’ve been able to make up for it with the planes of sculpted muscle circled around his biceps and thighs, laid over his chest and back. Top it all off with a set of claws each longer than your pointer finger and sharp enough to pierce reinforced steel, and he was practically fit for exhibit. Not that Toji could ever actually be a show dog, no – he’d tear the judges apart before they’d so much as heard his name. He was sweet, but he had a temper. You had to be careful not to set him off.

His fangs were impressive, too – perfectly in-tact despite years of less-than-adequate care, only a touch duller than a real wolf’s. You were careful not to let your hand stray from where it cupped his cheek as you looked for signs of damage or rot only to, of course, come up empty. The longer you spent with him, the more convinced you were that nothing could actually hurt Toji, even if the faded scar stitched into the corner of his mouth suggested otherwise.

“All done,” you started, letting go of his cheek. Immediately, Toji’s jaw snapped shut with enough strength to take off a finger, had you given him the chance. “Perfect as always, Toji. I think you might be my best patient.”

A cocky smile found its way to his lips, and you could hear his tail beating lazily against the dirt floor of his enclosure. The facility was committed to replicating the natural environments of their more exotic hybrids as closely as possible, even if Toji claimed he’d trade it all for a punching bag, or better yet, something ‘real’ to dig his teeth into, whatever that meant. “Do I get a treat, doc?”

It was asked playfully, but still, you hummed by way of confirmation, pulling your duffle bag into your lap and fishing Toji’s well-earned rewards – a generic chocolate bar and a can of some painfully acidic, sickeningly sweet brand of soda your hybrid patients couldn’t seem to get enough of. It was a meager prize, but it was as much as you were able to spare considering how strict his caretakers were when it came to his diet. You’d probably save yourself a few dirty looks if you didn’t give him anything at all, but it didn’t feel right to leave him empty-handed.

He accepted your humble offering greedily. While the chocolate bar was stowed away for later consumption, the can was pierced with a clawed thumb and emptied in one long, unpleasantly audible swig. You’d only started to push yourself to your feet when Tojj finished, letting the now empty can fall to the ground before turning his attention back to you. “It hurts my feelings, knowing you’re just gonna run off and put your hands on another animal.” His ear pressed flat against his scalp, as if he was trying (and failing) to feign disappointment. “If I didn’t know better, I’d start to think you didn’t really care about all the time we’ve spent together.”

“You’re not exactly in desperate need of medical attention,” you chided, throwing your bag over your shoulder. “And I’m on a schedule. Not all of us can sit around, grooming ourselves all day.”

That earned a breathy laugh, a coy lilt to his smile. “Well, if you wanted to take a shot at it, I wouldn’t—”

“Save it. I get enough of that with the cats.” Just thinking about it made you grimace. It was one thing to think that Toji might bite you. Knowing Satoru and Suguru – the bonded leopard and panther pair who shared a check-up date with Toji – would insist on licking any exposed skin raw before letting you do your job was a much more tangible reality. “I’ll see you in a couple of days. You’ll be good until then, right?”

“I’m gonna gut those fucking strays.” His answer was blunt, immediate, but he cracked as soon you shot him a purse-lipped frown. “Kidding, kidding. I’ll just rough ‘em up a little – make ‘em regret putting their paws on you, y’know?”

You couldn’t help but soften. Toji was rough around the edges, but he wasn’t a bad dog. He just had a protective streak and that, paired with his brash personality and tendency to bite before he barked, was enough for most people to write him off.

You really did have a long, long list of other appointments you had to get to before the end of the day, but against your better judgement, you paused as you passed him, reaching down to rake your fingers through sleek black hair. He was stoic, especially for a hybrid, but even his cool, dark eyes and wry smile couldn’t hide the way his tail moved just a little faster at the feeling of your nails raking over his scalp, his ears immediately perking up. It only took a second for him to bat your hand away, but you only laughed as you started towards the staff exit, waving to Toji over your shoulder.

Maybe, for his next check-up, you’d see if you could sneak in something special.

“Your mutt’s been unruly, lately.”

You glanced up from your clipboard, turning your full attention to Nanami and quickly finding that he hadn’t paid you the same courtesy. He was one of the senior researchers and, so far, the only one you could stand to be around for any longer than a few minutes. Since the higher-ups expected you to fill out your reports with one hand while you took a four-hundred-pound tiger’s temperature with the other, you tended to camp out in Nanami’s office when you had paperwork to file. “Toji?” Nanami nodded, and you rolled your eyes. “I’m just the vet, Kento. If his handlers aren’t doing their—”

“The problem isn’t his handlers, it’s him.”

His voice was flat, his tone icy. You laid your clipboard over your lap, crossing your arms over your chest. “He’s an animal. It’d be more out of character if he didn’t lash out occasionally.”

Nanami opened his mouth, but closed it just as quickly. After a lengthy pause, he leaned back in his seat, bringing a hand to his temples and massaging absentmindedly. “Do you know why he hasn’t been released back into the wild, yet?”

Obviously. Working with hybrids – let alone exotic hybrids – was dangerous, and your debriefing had drilled the face, name, and background of every animal in the facility into your memory. “He was born in captivity. He’s too acclimated to human society to adjust to the wilderness.”

Nanami pressed his lips into a thin line – an expression you’d learned to read as ‘you’re right, but I’m not going to say that’. Still, a degree of satisfaction accompanied his silent confirmation. “He was found in a dog fighting ring – or, what was left of one, at least. It took three rounds of sedation and two broken muzzles before our recovery team was able to get him under control.”

A knot formed at the base of your throat. Fuck chocolate, Toji deserved a blanket and as many hugs as he would let you give him. “That’s terrible, Kento. Were the organizers arrested?”

“The organizers—” Nanami straightened. “—were found mauled and stuffed into a kennel. Their bodies were so thoroughly mutilated, we had to rely on blood samples to identify them.”

“Wolves aren’t known for attacking unprovoked. It could’ve been another—”

“One of his handlers is currently hospitalized,” Nanami went on, as if you hadn’t cut in. “And two have already turned in their resignations – a resounding fear for their welfare in the workplace, supposedly.”

Your eyes fell to the floor, and that knot in your throat tightened until only the barest whisper could find its way out. “He’s not a bad dog,” you muttered, nearly under your breath. “He just— He loses his temper, sometimes. He doesn’t mean to hurt anymore.”

“He’s never tried to hurt you?”

You didn’t have to think before shaking your head. “Never.”

That, of all things, seemed to catch Nanami’s attention. For the first time, his eyes flickered briefly to you before falling back to his desk, his paperwork. “Good,” he said, marking down something on a piece of scrap paper in front of him. If he felt the need to elaborate, he clearly didn’t deem it worth the effort.

Later that day, you were informed that you were being transferred to the reptile wing indefinitely. If you’d been there for a few more months, if you’d had a little more experience to throw around, if you’d had a little more authority, you might’ve protested, but it was all you could do to nod and set to memorizing your new schedule.

It took exactly three weeks for you to see Toji again.

One of his handlers – a woman in her early twenties sporting a pressed scowl and a gauze-padded bandage on her cheek – met you at the facility’s gates and flatly told you that Toji was injured. You’d never been in the facilities (much less with a hybrid) after sundown, and in the simulated wilderness of his enclosure, it was easy to forget that you were never more than twenty feet away from a security camera, that there was only one apex predator you had to be afraid of. After checking your usual meeting spot (clear spot near the center of his enclosure – neutral territory, safe territory) and finding it vacant, you reluctantly stumbled your way to his den, dragging your feet despite the urgency of the situation. Toji wouldn’t deliberately attack you, but any animal could react if provoked. You didn’t want to set him off. More importantly, you didn’t want to prove Nanami right.

You’d never ventured far enough to see his den, but you knew what to expect. A square shell of cement occupied the deepest corner of Toji’s enclosure, bracketed off by a metal door tucked inside of a deep entryway meant to give the illusion of privacy. You approached it slowly, stepping underneath the shadowed overhang with no small amount of caution, but you didn’t get the chance to knock before a hand manifested on your shoulder and shoved you against the cold steel.

Claws bit into to the dip of your shoulder, then your wrist, too, as he caught your hand and shoved it into the small of your back. You felt hot air on the nape of your neck, heard heavy panting laced with the barest trace of a throaty growl, and it took everything you had not to panic, not to struggle, not to give him a reason to dig his teeth into your neck and tear. Toji wasn’t a bad dog, but he was still a dog. He’d still bite, if given an excuse.

“Toji,” you started, slowly, taking care to soften each harsh syllable of his name. “I’m here to help you.”

He didn’t respond, his hold only tightening. His check pressed into your back, and there was a short, airy noise – sniffing, as little as you wanted to put a name to it. “Toji,” you repeated, with more urgency. “I heard you were hurt. Will you let me help you?”

A second passed in silence, then another. Finally, he pulled away from you, releasing your wrist first, then your shoulder. He remained where he was – a little too close, a little too looming – as you shuffled to face him, forcing yourself not to consciously acknowledge that you were in a very big cage with a very poorly behaved animal. His handlers hadn’t mentioned why they’d needed you, but you didn’t have to wonder for very long. Even in the pitch dark, you could see the dark blood covering his jaw, washed over his throat and chest. It was on his hands, too, coating the white bone of his claws, and matted into his dark hair. Your waning self-control faltered then shattered altogether, your hands shooting to his head, his face, searching for bruising or swelling or broken bones, but surprisingly, all your worry earned was an airy laugh. “It’s not mine, doc.” He laid a hand over yours. “I’m doin’ just fine. Even better, now that you’re here.”

But he wasn’t. Twin sets of puncture marks were littered across his throat, his face, his arms. Something had taken a chunk out of his left bicep, and five matching scratch marks had been etched deep into the skin of his chest. The wounds looked feline, but you couldn’t bring yourself to linger on the implications. “You’re hurt,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him. Your hands fell to his shoulders, pushing him downward gently. “I— I’ve got bandages, and sutures—” You let your bag fall from your shoulder to your elbow, already reaching for the zipper. “Find somewhere to sit. We should get you cleaned up before something worse sets in.”

Panic was quickly overshadowing your better judgement, but Toji didn’t move, didn’t look away from you. He was still wearing that coy, sardonic grin – almost teasing, given your anxiety. “I already told you, I’m just fine.” His smile widened, until his pointed fangs caught in the dim light. “I didn’t think you’d actually come. They said I could ask for whatever I wanted, but—” He paused, sucked in a sharp breath. “I didn’t think you’d actually come.”

“Toji, you’re not making any sense. You need help.” Again, you pushed gently on his shoulders, and again, he didn’t seem to notice. This time, though, he shifted, leaned toward you, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You scowled, shoving a little less gently on his chest, but Toji didn’t move. “Toji, please, just let me help—”

“You’re gonna be the death of me, princess.” You felt his hands on your waist, then your ass. His chest was slotted against yours, and his tongue ran unabashedly over the curve of your neck once, then twice before he went on. “Keep sayin’ my name like that, and I won’t be able to control myself.”

Something pressed into your thigh – hot and hard and, like the rest of Toji, fucking huge. Your heart fell into your stomach, the air flooding out of your lungs and leaving you dazed, breathless.

Fuck. Fuck.

You should’ve stuck with the fucking reptiles.

Toji was panting audibly, again; his tongue lapping over your neck, your cheek. You were still cursing yourself for ever applying for this shitty job in the first place when Toji fell to his knees, forcing your thighs onto his shoulders as his claws caught on the fabric of your pants, decimating the thin material in an instant. His teeth tore away your panties just as quickly, leaving you exposed, splayed out on a silver platter in front of him. You reacted reflectively – knotting your fingers in his hair and doing your best to pry him away from you, but your strength was nothing compared to his and in the end, all you earned was a throaty groan, a tight squeeze to your ass before he buried his face in your cunt. His teeth grazed against the tender insides of your thighs, his claws biting into your now-unprotected skin, but the feeling of his tongue laving over the length of your slit replaced every other sensation with pure heat.

Predictably, he was near animalistic – his thick tongue fucking into you as the bridge of his nose ground shamelessly into your clit. From a distance, it would’ve been hard to tell if he was trying to eat you out or eat you alive; every noise he made feral and wet, punctuated with rough growls and little, uncharacteristic whines. It would’ve been impossible not to feel anything, but still, you couldn’t help but hate yourself when it started to feel good. His tongue was thick and textured, long enough to fill your pussy and flexible enough to curl inside of you, abusing the walls of your cunt without mercy. It was difficult to tell how much of the gloss staining his chin and the inside of your thighs was his drool and how much of it was your arousal, but even if your mind was disgusted by every slick noise and sharp flick of his tongue, there was nothing your body could do to block out the sudden pang of heat in your core, to fight the way your legs ached to clench around his head and pull the source of your revulsion that much closer.

“To—Toji, no, st—” you tried to say, like you were scolding a normal dog, like any part of you still thought he was listening. A cracked moan cut you off prematurely, and even if it hadn’t, Toji’s only response was a bruising squeeze to your ass, a low moan just loud enough to reverberate against your sensitive clit. Blinding white flashed across your vision, and before you could stop, before you could bring yourself back from that edge, you were coming undone on his tongue, your hips bucking against his face as he nursed you through your mind-numbing climax. Rather than pull away, he forced his tongue that much deeper into your pussy – taking advantage of your hypersensitivity to drag another unwilling orgasm out of you, then another, until the dried blood smeared across his lips was tacky and dripping onto your skin. He only pulled away when your little, pained sounds began to die into half-choked pleas and your limited strength failed, leaning you limp and boneless on top of him, and even then, he took the time to drag his tongue over your slit, to lap up what would’ve been wasted slick. You would’ve given anything for him to just leave you like that – messy and covered in your own arousal, but unfortunately, Toji had never been a bad dog.

His gaze flitted up to meet yours. “Sorry, princess,” he muttered, when he saw the misery knitted into your expression. The broad grin he wore was anything but apologetic, though. “Might’ve gotten carried away after all. Can’t help it – you always come to me, smellin’ like other men, and nobody ever lets me do anything about it.” He nuzzled into the inside of your thigh, nipping at the tender flesh with just enough force to break the skin. There was a tight pinch, of bright spark of pain, but Toji tended to the minimal wound lovingly, running his tongue over the thin stream of blood. “Gonna have you nice n’ scented by the end of the night.” A sharp whimper slipped past your grit teeth as the points of his fangs grazed over your skin, and Toji sighed. “Gonna have you nice n’ bred, too, if you keep making those sounds.”

Bred. Bred. Bred. You turned the offensive word over in your mind, unable to grasp what it possibly could’ve meant, as Toji carefully lowered you onto the ground – never so much as toying with the idea of fucking you into anything other than the cold, raw earth. It wasn’t until his clawed hand fell to the hard, pulsing cock standing stiffly between his legs that you were able to fully process what he’d said, what he was threatening to do to you. Your thoughts went blank, your years of veterinary school and countless hours of animal-handling training and common sense all dissolving into total nonexistence in an instant. It didn’t matter that he was taller than you, stronger than you – you were already throwing your full weight against him, scratching at his chest with your blunt nails, doing everything in your so incredibly limited power just to get away from him. Your latest wave of resistance wasn’t enough to overwhelm him, but it earned a frustrated rumble at the base of his throat, a downward quirk to his cocky smile. Your nails caught one of the puncture marks on his cheek and, reflexively, he straightened his back, brought his hand to his face, left just enough space between your body and his for you to roll onto your chest and scramble desperately towards freedom. You’d barely gotten your knees underneath you when his hand lashed out, catching you by the collar and forcing your cheek into the soil. His chest pressed into your back, his legs caging yours in on either side, and worst of all, his cock throbbed against your ass – somehow, impossibly, harder than it’d been a few seconds ago. You might’ve jotted it down as an impressive display of canine resilience, if you hadn’t felt so desolated.

“Shoulda figured you wouldn’t make this easy on yourself.” His voice was rougher than it had been, but no less self-satisfied. That made sense. Wolves were endurance predators. He would’ve come into this expecting there to be a struggle. “I thought you’d be more of a mate than a bitch, but—” He paused, his mouth settling against the nape of your neck. “—either’s fine by me.”

You clenched your eyes shut. “Please, Toji, don’t do—”

But, it was already too late. He rutted your ass once, then twice, before his tip caught on the entrance to your abused pussy and he was inside of you, fully sheathed without a trace of resistance.

Toji was big, even for a hybrid. He was a hunter, tried and true, all muscle and agility and pure, unfaltering strength. Even with his generous (albeit, unwelcomed) prep, it was all you could do to convince yourself that his cock wouldn’t tear you apart. He was thick enough to press against every soft and sensitive spot inside of you, long enough to leave a tight knot of pressure sitting in the pit of your stomach, and when he started to move, pulling out slowly before slamming back in, the force alone was enough to scatter little black spots in the corner of your vision and leave you hazy, light-headed. The way he was fucking into you didn’t help anything, either. Keening whines slipped out of some deep, feral pocket of his chest as he took advantage of your vulnerable cunt, alternating between grinding into you with a desperate sort of clinginess and trying to bully his way that much deeper with bruising, brutal thrusts. One arm wrapped around your midriff, dragging you even close to him, while a groping hand found the delicate buttons of your top and tore, ridding you of what was left of your protection against him. He kneaded half-consciously at your chest as he fucked into you; his own pleasure suddenly his only priority.

His selfishness should’ve been a welcome change, but you were too far gone, your body too eager to find a silver lining to his rough affection. Your hands clawed mindlessly at the ground as he pumped into you, the heat of his body against yours clouding your senses and making the feeling of cock stretching you open, his dull head pounding against your cervix all the more unbearable. You doubted he’d be able to talk, even if he’d had anything left to say, but he was still vocal enough. Raspy groans and harsh grunts rung distantly in your ears, his calloused hands groping mercilessly at your chest, your stomach, your waist. Finally, his thumb found its way to your neglected clit, and with less than a full second of stimulation, you were buckling into yourself, clamping down around his cock with a fractured whimper. As humiliated as you were, Toji wasn’t far behind. With something between a moan and a howl, he was cumming inside of you – predictably making no attempt to pull out. Something hot and vile flooded into you, but it was hard to focus on that when you could feel something hard and bloated and wrong press into your entrance. Toji’s breath hitched as he forced his knot into your tight cunt, and whatever hope you had for coming out of this unscathed curled up and died inside of you.

You could feel him slacken on top of you. You almost thought he would collapse like that, leave you locked to him and trapped under his weight, but instead, he nuzzled against the crook of your neck, his fangs ghosting over your throat before sinking into the soft flesh just underneath your jugular. He stayed like that, his knot splitting open your pussy and his teeth buried in your neck, until you lost any hope of him ever pulling away.

Exhausted, you shut your eyes, sinking into yourself. You’d been right, in a way. Toji wasn’t a bad dog.

He was just a terrible terrible man.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere oneshot #yandere jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk imagines #yandere jjk #toji x reader #yandere toji #fushiguro toji x reader #yandere fushiguro toji #hybrid au

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targaryenluvs · 4 months

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— newcomer

pairing: dark!luke castellan x childofaphrodite!reader

summary: luke becomes quite infatuated with you, the newcomer of the camp.

tw: obsession, stalking, distancing from friends, intimidation, luke is like deep in love, my horrible attempt at describing love? kinda lovebomby, mentions of violence/luke attacking others

word count: 1k words

a/n: my second pjo fic! i think percy is next 👀 - i don’t think i outright described a female reader, let me know if i did so i can change it!! i i’m going to try and be more inconspicuous with genders to fit all ❤️

right from the start, luke could tell there was something special about you.

of course he was to introduce himself to the new kids but for once he wanted to meet you. with a warm smile and his reassuring words, you were made to feel at home quite quickly.

you’d thought of luke being friendly in general before learning of the hermes cabin and his welcoming nature, but it didn’t seem to change anything between the two of you. luke was an excellent guide in your eyes, helping you settle into your new life, you were undeniably thankful for him.

he was a pitstop for many, if not all campers once they entered the place, a familiar face to help them all. but for you he seemed to go above and beyond. he wanted you to be as comfortable as possible, and he believed himself to be the key in your life at camp half-blood to happiness. you made him happy.

your bright smile and endearing personality melted his heart, you were a breath of fresh air and he couldn’t wait to bask in it.

even after you were claimed, by aphrodite nonetheless, you stuck around. it made sense to him, you were the most breathtaking person he’d ever seen. whether it was a smile from afar or a long conversation, you always made it a point in your day to spend time with him.

you wouldn’t do that for nobody now would you?

no, your sweet self was kind, especially to him. you liked him, like he liked you, and he’d be damned if he let you go.

you seemed to be the only person who didn’t notice his disdain towards those around you. the way he’d linger around the ares boy who’d been chatting you up at breakfast, the same boy who’d been attacked from behind during capture the flag, suffering a nasty slice on his back.

or how he’d humiliated one of your friends during archery, correcting their stance, taunting their attempts to hit the bullseye, throwing them off and laughing at them when they missed. it was all in good fun, right?

he was like a shadow, unwavering and lurking.

it wasn’t uncommon to find luke a few metres away from wherever you were. to find him accompanying you to dinner, to find the two of you practicing together early in the morning, alone, to focus better of course. slowly but surely he wriggled his way back into your life, all consuming and prominent.

until it was seen as odd to find you alone.

seemingly tied together, woven, meant to be. you completed him, you made him feel alive. you made luke feel electric, on fire almost. your presence and touch began to comfort him most, your voice being the only one to bring him down.

and when you were taken from him, whether by others or in general, he was unbearable.

the shining luke castellan crumbled without his support. he needed you, depended on you, like fire and oxygen, plants and sunlight, a song and dance. you kept him going, you filled his life with purpose, he wasn’t luke castellan, son of hermes, counseller, confidante, friend.

he was lu, he was yours, he was your ‘sunshine’.

and as if he wasn’t already insatiable with you as his friend, when you’d admitted your crush on him, luke was on a whole other level.

“lu,” he hummed, turning his head your way, “i want, i need to tell you something.” the soft grass, the warm sun and gentle breeze, they all calmed his erratic heart. what did you have to say? he despised the idea of not knowing what you were thinking.

luke waited with bated breath, his nails digging into his palm, pressure building, his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, not that you’d notice, he wouldn’t let you. “what is it sweetheart?” the two of you were sitting now, previously laid next to eachother on the picnic blanket.

“i think, i think i like you.”

and how could you not?

luke was the epitome of a gentleman, the kindest man you’d ever met. he made you feel special, you could always rely on your sunshine. in the months the two of you had known each other, it seemed he now knew you like the back of his hand. what you liked, what you disliked, the places you wanted to go and the places you’d been. you’d bared your soul to him, and you could only pray he loved you as you did him.

he was your strength, your courage, your friend, even if you hoped for more. he’d been there for you since the start, and you’d be forever grateful. so why not raise your relationship? fully commit to the one person who knew everything?

he’d crafted himself to be yours, to be everything you could ever wish for, as you were for him. luke had been waiting for your complete devotion, and he had it now, no one could make him let go. people often came and went in his life, leaving him in the past, he often felt taken advantage of, he gave up on the idea of someone to stay.

but you’d stay, blind with devotion and poisoned by his love, who on earth and in the heavens could treat you better than him?

your loyal luke.

“well i have a secret for you, only you.”

your eyes lifted to meet his, a small smile on your lips, “tell me luke,” his hand reached for yours, “what’s your secret?” your favourite flower, suddenly pulled from behind your head, placed behind your ear.

“i love you too.” he surged forwards, capturing you by surprise.

was this bliss? is this what it felt to be in love?

luke was intoxicating, his strong hands and loving voice, it consumed you. it was all so much, and it was all you’d ever wanted.

but a small voice in the back of your head was prominent.

you’d never said a single thing about love.

#percy jackson x fem!reader #percy jackson x reader #pjo x reader #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x fem!reader #yandere luke castellan #yandere!luke castellan x reader #dark!luke castellan x reader

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transmascissues · 3 months

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12 weeks post-top surgery thoughts

most importantly, i’m absolutely fucking in love with how things look! it’s still not set in stone yet, my surgeon said i won’t really see the final result until up to a year after, but I’m so happy with it already.

my surgeon’s default timeline would’ve had me starting scar tape at 4 weeks, but i still haven’t started yet because some little scabs are still hanging around even though most of my scars are completely healed. my surgeon didn’t seem concerned about it taking longer than expected, she just said everyone’s body is different. given that i have a connective tissue disorder and skin that just hates being messed with at all, i’m not surprised that it’s been slow going and i’m just happy that the rest is healing so well. i just had another post-op today and was cleared to start using scar tape because the scabbing is so minimal at this point, so i can finally move on to the next stage of healing.

i can (mostly) lift my arms now! they still can’t quite go all the way up, but i have enough of my mobility back that the only things i really struggle with are super high shelves like the ones above my fridge, and things like the washer and dryer that i have to reach really far to get into. technically, i was supposed to wait six months before raising them because that’s what my surgeon usually recommends for aesthetic purposes, but i have to be able to raise them to do my job anyway so i’m not limiting myself beyond the natural limits of discomfort at this point.

my chest muscles are mostly back to normal too, but they’re still very sensitive. when i flex them, it doesn’t hurt or feel uncomfortable but i am a lot more aware of the feeling than i was before. they also still tire out more easily than they used to — i’m back at work now, and i’ve learned the hard way that i tend to favor one arm over the other for certain tasks because when i do any of them for too long, i start to feel it in that side of my chest. it’s not anything too bad, but i’m still making sure my shifts are spread out because i don’t want to risk overdoing it.

i’m getting used to touching my own chest, but being touched by other people still feels super weird and honestly uncomfortable at times, particularly when it’s my bare chest and not over my shirt. i’ve been touching it a lot to try to desensitize it since around week 3 or 4, and it seems to be working as far as my own touch, but other people is a whole other story — when my boyfriend is touching my bare chest and their hand touches the scars, it doesn’t actually hurt but i react to it like it does. i suspect it’s more of a mental thing than anything, that since i’m still instinctively protective of it and not quite used to how it feels, touches that i’m not in control of just automatically set off alarm bells. it’s also just a generally foreign feeling even without the weirdness of healing because my boyfriend never really touched my chest before surgery since i was dysphoric about it, so it seems to require desensitization on multiple levels. i’ve given them permission to keep touching it even when i flinch (unless i explicitly ask them to stop) because i want to make sure i start getting used to the feeling.

i’m also still very sensitive to pressure against my chest, especially the front of it. it’s getting easier to lie down on my side now but i’m still using my body pillow to take some pressure off of the scars under my armpits, because if i don’t i usually can only stay in that position for a little while. my boyfriend can mostly lay their head on my chest for short periods of time now, but the position matters because if the weight isn’t distributed evenly enough or if it’s on the wrong part of my chest, it hurts. that being said, less intense pressure on the front like a hug or holding something to my chest is pretty much fine, i’m just still more sensitive to it (as with everything). i’ve been able to lay face down on top of my boyfriend a couple times without discomfort too, but i’m still erring on the side of caution and not laying on my chest too much yet.

when i was around a month in and thought i would be starting scar care soon, i was really nervous about it — particularly about the scar massage — because of the state my chest was in. i still didn’t feel like i could press on it or move the skin around or pick it up with my fingers at all, and the scar tissue underneath was still really thick and firm. i assumed that all of that would stay the same until i did the massages to break down the scar tissue and loosen things up, but i can now confirm after another month and a half of doing nothing while things healed, my skin is naturally a lot more mobile and a lot of that really thick scar tissue has already broken down. obviously i’m still going to start massaging now because i want to give myself the best possible chance of healing well, but i wish i had known how much my chest would be able to bounce back on its own. in hindsight, i’m glad i ended up having to wait to start the massage instead of doing it back when my chest was much less healed, because i’m much more comfortable manipulating it now.

every once in a while, i’ll get sharp pains in my chest. they aren’t horribly painful, mostly just unpleasant. they feel a lot like the nerve zaps i was getting earlier in recovery so it might be another round of nerves reconnecting, but it also happens more often when i’m working so it’s hard to say if it’s nerves or over-exertion. either way, i always make sure to take it easy when i start to feel that, just in case it is a sign of me doing too much.

i typically almost never eat meat, but i chose to reintroduce it into my diet after surgery to get more protein, because i wanted to make sure my body had everything it needs to heal and protein is a huge part of that. now that i’m pretty much all healed skin-wise and just waiting for everything to settle, i’ve decided it’s time to go back to my usual diet of not-fully-vegetarian-but-pretty-damn-close. i’m sure the diet change wasn’t strictly necessary but i don’t regret doing it, though i am glad to be switching back now.

putting on shirts still hasn’t gotten old. seeing how they look over a flat chest honestly feels surreal, but in the best way. hugging people and being able to press all the way into it js also still such a great feeling. i’m far enough in now that i can do all of that stuff without worrying about it, but still early enough that it all feels really new and special, and i’ve been thoroughly enjoying that.

wearing a more genderfucky outfit out in public for the first time post-op was a fucking blast. my boyfriend and i went to a new year’s eve party, and getting to show off my chest through a sheer lace top and my facial hair alongside makeup was so much fun. it was the first time i’ve been able to go all out without the lingering feeling in the back of my mind that dressing up means inevitably being seen as a woman. i definitely didn’t look like a cis man to any of the people who saw me, but they could clearly tell i wasn’t a cis woman at the very least, and knowing that made me so much more confident.

i’m far enough away now from being in the trenches of early recovery that the reality of the fact that i got such a big surgery has started to fade. when i really think about the fact that my body went through all of that and about how hard early recovery was, it doesn’t quite feel real anymore. i’m starting to reach the point one of my friends told me about, where my chest being like this feels so normal that it’s just like “yeah, of course, it’s always been like this, right?” it’s wild, really, the difference a couple months can make — it wasn’t that long ago that i was exhausted and arguably depressed from the early recovery process, and now it all feels so normal that i have to remind myself it took all of that to get here. i never really doubted that it would be worth it in the end, but i’m still more sure of that now than i ever have been.

the last couple months have been a long road, but somehow they’ve also flown by. it’s given me so much appreciation for my body — its potential to transform and what it’s been able to withstand. i wouldn’t trade the experience for anything.

#top surgery adventures #top surgery results #top surgery recovery #top surgery #double incision #trans man #transmasc

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strawheart-pirate · 6 months

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What they do for their sick s/o who can’t leave the ship

Sanji, Nami, Law, Penguin & Shachi, Kid, Killer

CW: SFW. This is just fluff. no drugs, no alcohol, no smokes, just soup and pampering. Comfort. They go above and beyond for you.

Scenario: After weeks at sea, you finally reached an island, but you were unable to leave the ship. You had the flu, and because it came with a cough, fever and chills, you were not allowed to leave your bed. Your s/o went on the island to get some goods, and maybe they have a surprise for you.

Read part 1 here: Luffy, Zoro, Usopp, Robin, Franky, Brook

Sanji

- Since Sanji is a good listener and observer, he knew exactly what you needed. - Although he didn't want to leave your side, he had to gather a few things that would help you overcome your sickness. It took him only a short time to gather everything and he was back sooner than you expected. - He prepared a nice stew with only the best and freshest veggies and wrapped some small gifts. Not long after, he wheeled a small service cart next to your bed. It was packed with the small gifts, flowers in a vase and a steaming stew full of veggies. - “Sanji, it smells delicious.” – “I made you a very rich stew. We’ll get you back on your feet in no time with my special care.” You smiled at him. He insisted on feeding you, even though you were perfectly capable of holding the spoon with your own hands. You sulked at first but seeing him so happy made you enjoy it. - After your meal you unwrapped the little gifts. It was a few souvenirs and the one thing you’d been talking about for weeks. “Thank you, Sanji.” – “Anything for you. Now tell me. Do you want me to give you a massage, or do you want to watch a movie, or how can I help you?” - “This may sound strange, but can you read to me or tell me a story while I try to sleep?” – “Of course, just make yourself comfortable. Shall I tell you stories of the North Blue?” Sanji sat down on the bed beside you, and you made yourself comfortable and laid your head on his lap. - You fell asleep listening to Sanji’s smooth voice.

Nami

- Would boss the whole crew around to make you feel better and recover faster. Sanji would get most of her wrath, and he’d be ordered to cook you a soup and whatever you want. - Hits Luffy when he tries to steal your food away and is in a very bad mood because she wanted to enjoy the island together with you. - You would send her off to the island to give everyone a break (but make sure not to phrase it like that!). She would be gone for the whole day. - When she returns, she’ll apologize (but only to you) for being so stressed, but she’s just worried. She’d tell you about how she got nearly everything for free and show you all the new clothes and accessories. - In the end, she’d hand you a small box. She got you a little souvenir with the name of the island on it and added a voucher to it. “For later. We could take the shark submerge and visit an island of your choice...” She said with a soft smile, and you were once again amazed at how generous Nami could be. “Thank you Nami, you’re the best. I’m looking forward to our little trip.” You hugged her show your gratitude. - You spent the evening watching a movie until you fell asleep on her shoulder.

Trafalgar Law

- Your captain was very strict about the bed rest he prescribed you, so no island for you. Not even a glimpse of it. - Though he acted serious and cold towards you, his heart ached when you begged him to go. But it was for your own good that he was this persistent. - He made sure to have Bepo watch over you, knowing that you loved the bear and that he would be able to comfort you. - As he went about his duties on the island, his mind wandered off to you frequently and he thought hard about he could get you to lighten your mood and make up for not being able to visit the island. - He returned to the Polar Tang with a small bag in his hand. As he entered the room, you were fast asleep. He placed the paper bag on your nightstand and was about to leave quietly, when you shifted. - The smell of your favorite pastry woke you up and you saw Law before he could leave the room. “Law?” He slowly turned around. “I came to check on you, but you were asleep and-“ You interrupted him as you saw the paper bag on the nightstand. “Is that what I think it is?” Your eyes sparkled with excitement as you grabbed the bag and looked inside. “You went to a bakery for me?” You flashed him a smile and he looked away feeling caught. “Don’t read too much into it…” he muttered. You took his hand and smiled gratefully. “Thank you, Law.” Law only squeezed your hand a little as an answer. “I have to go to set the new course.” He mumbled and left the room. - You just giggled at how flustered he was. As you ate your favorite pastry, you smiled thinking about how Law really went out of his way to treat you.

Penguin & Shachi

- They sat on either side of your bed and cried as if you were going to die. But you weren’t, and no matter how many times you told them, that you were going to get better, they still cried. The trash was full of wet tissues, and as much as you liked them, you needed a break. - So, you sent them off to the island to do whatever they wanted. - They were determined to find you something, anything that would help you and keep you from dying. They were not that good at cooking, so they needed to help you in another way. - When they came across a beauty shop, they went in. They took notes on how to do nails, how to give proper massages and how to do face masks and compressions. They left the shop with a large bag full of creams, oils, and tools. - Once they returned, Shachi prepared the tub for you with your favorite bubble bath and your rubber ducky, and washed your hair while you soaked in the tub. Meanwhile Penguin set up the room ready for your surprise. When you came back into the room, you noticed all the candles, cosmetics, and the incense sticks. It smelled nice. - “What’s this all about?” – “We can’t help your immune system, but we can help you relax.” Penguin explained and soon you found yourself being pampered by the men. Their hands were not as skilled as the professionals with the utensils or the movements, but they managed it quite well. And you really enjoyed it. - If you ask them to do your nails, they will make a competition out of it. - You had the most precious spa day with these guys and your weakened body really enjoyed their pampering.

Eustass Kid

- Kid was angry. Not at you, but the fact that you couldn’t get out of bed because of that damn flu really pissed him off. You tried to calm him down and told him, that you were okay (you weren’t okay, but he needed to calm down, so you swallowed your own sadness), but he wouldn’t listen. - “If I can’t kill the fucking flu, I’ll at least burn this fucking island to the ground.” He said and left. You were left alone in your bed, hoping for the best. - Kid left the ship alongside Killer. “Do you know how to kill the flu?” - “Give it some time and they will be fine. Some soup or medicine can ease the symptoms.” - With that in mind, Kid wandered around with an angry expression on his face. The people who came across him hid behind walls or changed their direction, no one wanted to be the one facing his wrath. Finally, Kid found what he was looking for. - “You!” He broke down the door and scattered inside. “You're caring for a sick one, I saw it from outside.” He had an angry scowl on his face, a vein was ticking, and his voice was demanding. The woman at the stove nodded hesitantly. - “I need that soup and whatever you have, that makes a sick person feel better. Now.” He commanded with a twisted smile. The frightened woman hurried up and placed a soup, some herbs, and creams in a bag. “Well done.” He said and left for the ship. - “The soup is good.” You smiled at him and took another spoonful of it. “That’s good, otherwise I’d tear this city apart.” You saw that he was restless and tense. “Tell you what, come here.” You moved to one side of the bed, and he sat down beside you, putting an arm around you. “Can you show me your little trick?” You asked and he smirked and was about to give a cocky answer, but you had already placed some screws and small metal parts in his palm before you continued to eat your soup. So, he let it slide and activated his powers. First, he locked the door, no need for an audience, and then he stacked the parts and formed little butterflies with them. You watched in awe as he let them fly across the room. - You set down the now empty bowl. “Thank you.” You said and played with one of the little metal creatures as Kid watched the scene with a confident smile.

Killer

- He has a plan. He knows how to deal with a sick Captain Kid, and he definitely knows what you need. - Grabbing his list, he went to the island and was determined to be back soon. But then Kid caused some trouble on the island, and he had to deescalate the whole situation. He came back with everything on his list, an angry captain, and a sour mood. - He went into the kitchen and started to prepare everything for you. If anyone entered the kitchen, he would take his anger out on them, so everyone avoided going near the kitchen, no matter how hungry they were. - You woke up when a now calm Killer entered the room with a hot meal, some meds, and a bottle of water. “Hey, sorry if I woke you up.” You gave him a tired smile and a delicious smell entered your nose. “It’s okay. Did you cook?” – “Yeah, hope it helps you get better.” You sat up and he placed the food on your lap. It tasted good and you hummed appreciatively. “Thank you. It’s delicious.” – “I’m glad you like it. I also bought some meds, just in case.” He said placing the meds on your nightstand. - After the meal, Killer sat down beside you and you curled up against him. You mumbled a small 'thank you' and quickly fell asleep while Killer watched over you.

All content unless otherwise stated belongs to: ©Strawheart-pirate. Please do not copy / modify / translate / repost my writing, banners or art on other platforms. Comments, reblogs or likes are highly appreciated!

#one piece #one piece headcanons #one piece x reader #one piece x you #gn reader #sanji x reader #black leg sanji #nami x reader #cat burglar nami #law x reader #trafalgar law #kid x reader #eustass kid #killer x reader #killer op #penguin x reader x shachi #penguin one piece #shachi one piece #strawheart-pirate.writing

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chiliadicorum · 4 months

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Was Feanor's Death Anticlimactic?

(thank you to @ckgoksoy's artwork and @nyarnamaitar's tags on it that inspired this)

I’m sure the fandom has seen this idea floating around, that his death was quite anticlimactic*, a letdown after all his hype and drama, so I won't elaborate on this common opinion, one that I initially shared. I instead want to challenge it. Furthermore, I posit that not only was his death not anticlimactic, but that it was one of the most glorious fights in the whole legendarium. *(I'm speaking of the whole scene in general that ended in his death, not the outcome of it - let's be real, self-combustion isn't boring and that epic circumstance was unique to Feanor alone)

Buckle up.

I'm not going to dive into "narrative bias" - it's a touchy subject and a deep discussion in itself - but it does need to be acknowledged here however briefly because it's so glaringly obvious that it directly impacts how we the Reader interpret Feanor's final fight scene.

My belief of the problem is not that there wasn't anything significant to report about Feanor's fight with the Balrogs, but that it was deliberately withheld from us. Let's look at Feanor and Fingolfin, two incredibly imperative characters to the drama. Compare the scene of Feanor's fight to Fingolfin's duel with Morgoth. In the silmarillion, from the moment he elected to go forth to the conclusion of his death, Feanor gets 1.5 paragraphs containing 344 words. Fingolfin using the same window gets 6 paragraphs containing 766 words. Of those 766 words, for text dedicated specifically to the actual combat alone, Fingolfin got 261 words.

Feanor got 29.

That's quite a gaping difference, especially when it's between these two. But you might make the argument that these two combats had entirely different foes. Feanor faced Balrogs, but Fingolfin fought Morgoth, the Enemy, the only occasion in which Morgoth emerged to fight anyone, so of course it should shine in the spotlight with some detail as to how it went (and yes, it should). It has nothing to do with bias against who was fighting, but what they were fighting.

All right. I'll pretend that this distinction is important. Let's turn to the other recorded Balrog-fights. Again, not including all the narrative revolving around their fight & subsequent death, but specific to the combat alone:

Fingon got 94 words Ecthelion got 144 words Glorfindel got a whopping 210 words

Feanor got 29. Now, length is not the deciding factor in this, obviously. The content contained within is what matters, and that's the rub: there's content. Which is why I literally figured out the word-count dedicated to what happened within the timeframe of the combats. Length is not important, but the point I'm trying to make with highlighting the lengths is that some measure of detail of the combat was included for ALL the other deaths-by-Balrog. Except Feanor's. So the argument that it was because of what Feanor was fighting that we were left with a truncated account is moot.

And remember, the three other Elves above were each fighting a single Balrog whereas Feanor was up against many. And I'm to seriously believe that there was nothing noteworthy to write about that? This was Feanor. Because that's another thing. The other three accounts were of minor characters (and Ecthelion and Glorfindel were very minor characters compared to Feanor). This was the legendary Feanor, the greatest of Elves to ever live, larger than life, powerful, intelligent and skilled beyond measure, and without who's driving force we wouldn't have had a story...and a few dozen words only are dedicated to his demise?

Now to clarify, Glorfindel's and Ecthelion's fights weren't included in the silm. Like I said, minor characters, so it wasn't surprising their combats were cut from the final draft. Their word-count was pulled from their accounts in The Fall of Gondolin. So, to be fair, I took the (really long) time and looked up Feanor's death in every. single. book. and, much to my genuine surprise, the silmarillion had the longest and most detailed account. The measly 29 words. What were those words? I should probably include them at some point since I'm going on about it:

"Long he fought on, and undismayed, though he was wrapped in fire and wounded with many wounds; but at the last he was smitten to the ground by Gothmog"

That's it. No wonder people are underwhelmed when reading it. So vague and containing absolutely nothing specific after he was surrounded. And it says "long he fought on", which means this fight was no short thing. This is an interesting element, because even Glorfindel's fight, which was given the most detail, was described as a fast event: "Now there was a deadly combat upon that high rock above the folk [...] yet it was over ere Glorfindel's men could leap to his side." Long he fought on. Logic dictates that Feanor's fight therefore would have the most to report of what occurred therein, but all we get is "wounded with many wounds" and "wrapped in fire"? (though that's an awesome visual to imagine, I have to say)

Am I really supposed to believe that every Balrog-fight was interesting enough to spend time writing about it except Feanor's? Especially when he faced not just one Balrog but many? And not one at a time, but all at once? (because it says he was "surrounded") And when this combat lasted a long time? All of these factors tied together hint at something awesome that happened, and you want me to believe it wasn't a jaw-dropping showdown?

This history was written by Pengolodh who, with reason, had a very negative outlook towards Feanor and, while he was a brilliant historian, he wasn't wholly objective and one way I believe this manifests is, in fact, in his lack of documentation of this fight. I'm only highlighting this factor and not the narrative he penned about the people he was writing because, especially comparing Feanor's and Fingolfin's accounts, that becomes very problematic and is a separate post entirely.

Feanor only got 29 words for his combat. I'll even be generous and say it was 35 words if we include the preceding line where it explains that Feanor was surrounded by them. What would happen if we rewrote Fingolfin's 261-worded duel with Morgoth and condensed it down to something short and sweet? Something like this:

"Fiercely he fought in rage and grief, and with Ringil he hewed at the Black Foe ere Morgoth crushed him to the ground. Thus died Fingolfin before Angband's gates."

Kind of anticlimactic, isn't it? (and yeah, I made that 29 words)

What an astounding difference detail makes for the conclusions we draw about these two fights. Now, if Feanor had died straightaway at the start of the fight, then yeah. Deeming it anticlimactic would carry a lot more weight.

Except he didn't.

Which brings me to my next three points. Because now after harping about the egregious lack of information, how can I dare suggest then that his combat with the Balrogs was glorious?

Ignore everything I've said up to this point. Dismissing the narrative bias completely, if I were of the opinion that it doesn't exist or its impact on the text is nowhere near as substantial as I've implied, the minimal detail of Feanor's death scene itself still convinces me that this scene was epic.

And yes, I do believe Feanor's fight was in fact glorious.

1: the Balrogs weren't able to kill him immediately

Those four words, "long he fought on" cannot be overstated. Fights with Balrogs in the First Age were fast, if you managed to live long enough to actually fight them, that is. And if you did, it was shortlived. Not Feanor's though. He was wounded with many wounds (so creative, Pengolodh), but he was never dealt the killing blow (I'll come back to this). The final wound Feanor received put him to the ground. Maybe Gothmog swept his feet out from under him with the fiery whip. Maybe this wound was to his thigh and caused him to fall to his knees. Maybe it took four of them converging on him with attacks for Gothmog to finally slip in. WE'LL NEVER KNOW. But he's on the ground and he's still alive. Still alive when his sons and army arrived to help and still alive when the Balrogs left:

"Then his sons raised up their father and bore him back towards Mithrim. But as they drew near to Eithel Sirion and were upon the upward path to pass over the mountains, Feanor bade them halt; for his wounds were mortal and he knew that his hour was come."

And still alive while they carry him away. Feanor didn't die on the battleground of his Balrog-fight. He died here, near the slope of the mountains. It says earlier in Feanor's account that he pressed on, thinking perhaps that he could reach Morgoth himself, which means they were far into the fields of Ard-galen, far from the mountain pass. From Eithel Sirion to the skirt of Thangorodrim's mountains, Ard-galen stretched around 70 leagues wide (one map has it around 100 leagues). Let's be generous and say this fight occurred at the midpoint; 35 leagues. If it takes an hour to walk a league, that's still 35 hours of non-stop walking without rest-stops, sleep or being weighed down by supplies and an army to get back to Eithel Sirion where Feanor died (some accounts have him being borne all the way back to Mithrim before he died).

At minimum, Feanor didn't die until at least a whole day later. He needed assistance getting up from the ground and moving, but he was very much alive, still talking, still coherent. Can you imagine how awful that was for his sons? The adrenaline of running as fast as they could to help him, the overwhelming relief that he was still alive, badly hurt but alive, they tend to his wounds as best as they can and get him out of there, probably smiling at their father being irritated by the outcome of the fight because that sounds like him, he's normal haha he'll be fine...But he's only getting worse with each league, face paler, can't move at all on his own, becoming so quiet. They keep tending to his wounds, try to keep him hydrated, steadily get terrified at how he gets weaker and weaker, and then he tells them to halt. The fact that he survived for a time, for many hours, led me to believe that whatever fatal wound he got, it caused severe internal bleeding, because his sons had plenty of time to patch him up and Elves' bodies are resilient and heal fast, but this wound was unstoppable.

Feanor fought against multiple Balrogs, and they couldn't kill him. He fought multiple Balrogs all at once, and they couldn't kill him. He fought multiple Balrogs all at once for a long time, and they couldn't kill him, one and done. He walked away from it, if for a short while, and that's amazing.

2: the Balrogs fled the scene

How has the fandom not lost their collective minds over this tidbit? Feanor gets struck down by Gothmog. He's on the ground, exposed, and it says he would have perished right then and there if his sons hadn't arrived to help. Feanor's vulnerable on the ground, unable to defend himself. Gothmog had to only strike him one more time and done, mission accomplished (he could've just stomped on him, just saying). Gothmog probably moved to do so, but didn't. Let me ask you a question:

What the hell did Feanor do in that fight to make the Balrogs AFRAID?

This was one Elf, a single Elf that they were all piling on, they finally get him to the ground...and they run. They can finally kill him, but at the mere SIGHT of his seven sons, the children of this one Elf running full pelt towards them enraged and desperate, they elected to flee instead of taking the two seconds to finish the job. I can see it; Gothmog's eyes blazing down at this prone Elf, raising his weapon for the killing blow, hears yelling, looks up, sees these Elves coming, takes a second to consider and then nopes out of there.

What in the world did Feanor do to them during their fight to make the Balrogs believe that fleeing from these coming Elves was the better option? They're Balrogs! Monsters, demons of living fire, the greatest of Morgoth's servants...and they run at the sight of Feanor's sons and the people with them. See now why I'm so desperate for details of that fight? Feanor put fear into them. There was really nothing worth writing about?

3: Morgoth was desperate

"[...] Morgoth was dismayed. Ten days that battle lasted, and from it returned of all the hosts that he had prepared for the conquest of Beleriand no more than a handful of leaves."

Morgoth was dismayed. Can we not appreciate the magnitude of this simple sentence? Appalled, apprehensive, frightened, nervous, shocked - Feanor and the Noldor made Morgoth, mightiest of all beings, dismayed.

This was a landslide victory for the Noldor, and it's often forgotten because of Feanor's death in the hour of that victory. The size of Morgoth's army here can't be disregarded. This wasn't a troop or two he sent to kill the Noldor, this wasn't a regiment sent to take over Mithrim. This army was of such a gargantuan size that Morgoth intended to use it for "the conquest of Beleriand". Not just the Falas or Doriath, the entire continent. It was THE army, that's how huge it was. And the Noldor massacred them to such a degree that "no more than a handful of leaves" returned to Angband.

And that puny remnant was running for Angband as fast as they could, because these terrifying Elves were hot on their tail, Feanor at the lead. And he runs faster, pulling ahead. (the Elves are hot with victory, how did Feanor manage to outrun them by such a distance? dang dude) He's coming for them. For Angband, for Morgoth, his father's slayer and thief of his treasure. Vengeance is nigh.

And from afar Morgoth sees Feanor coming. For him. His army is destroyed, gone, and Feanor, blazing like the Spirit of Fire he is, is charging for his fortress with the army of Noldor in his wake. And I absolutely love that Morgoth's solution to this wasn't to send one Balrog but several of them, including his General. That's what he deemed was necessary to stop Feanor. The Balrogs probably went out thinking "kill that one Elf? Easy, no problem", until they started fighting him...and struggled to do it.

It's interesting because Feanor wouldn't have been able to breach the walls of Angband. Not even the Valar could, and Morgoth knew this. He knew Feanor wouldn't stand a chance if he actually reached Thangorodrim. But such was his dismay that in his fear and anxiety, that fact no longer registered to him. He reacted instead, and his reaction is so telling. The Balrogs were a last resort, a desperate attempt to get these Elves to stop.

And it worked.

Thus why I say that details of his fight were deliberately withheld from us instead of the idea that they weren't worth reporting. The question, then, is why? Why withhold it? Feanor's death scene was never anticlimactic. It was instead given such a disservice in the tomes of history, for the historians simply neglected to report anything about it (for the sole purpose of making it seem unnotable perhaps?). This fight was badass. And side note: "wrapped in fire"? There's no sun or moon yet, guys, and that close to Angband I'm willing to bet even the stars were veiled by Morgoth's gales. It's pitch black on the Ard-galen except for what light the Elves carry...Try to envision what his sons saw as they were running to him, in the distance, the whirling inferno Feanor was engulfed in, that lit up the entire fields up to the skies. (Were they confused at first? Thinking it was simply a manifestation of their father's fire until they saw dark shapes moving in it?)

How could anyone omit information about such a marvelous event? Feanor died very early on, but he made sure his final stand was so glorious as to put fear into the Enemy. Think about it; this day was the first time Morgoth learned to dread the Elves.

29 words. Why oh why did you withhold everything else? Yes, all these factors woven together coalesce into an incredible impression of what transpired, but it's remanded unto our mere imaginations to guess and envision. I'm fully convinced Feanor's fight with the Balrogs was jaw-dropping, and I'm resigned to being forever embittered that we were given a lousy account of that event. There is one thing, though, that pacifies me and with it, I'll make my conclusion to this long meta. Why was it withheld? There's one detail written about this battle in The Quenta that I think provides the answer:

"no tale can tell the valour of Feanor"

Perhaps I'm being too harsh on Pengolodh for his lackluster description of Feanor's last fight. Maybe it was less of a passive-aggressive hostility towards Feanor...and more so the simple fact that no amount of words would've ever done it justice.

#feanor #silmarillion #dagor nuin giliath #morgoth #balrogs #gothmog #feanorians #ard-galen #pengolodh #meta #narrative bias #unreliable narrators

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writingquestionsanswered · 3 months

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I don’t know if you do advice for RP but I do a lot of it so to venture my question: I’ve been roleplaying for so many years now in one specific environment. always making an OC, writing for a few years, eventually ending their story, and picking up a new OC. problem is now I’ve been doing it so long I feel like I’m out of ideas that aren’t rehashes of old characters. It feels like there’s really only four “types” you can do. Nice & sweet, smart nerd, loud bold and big, or evil/mean. Anything that could help with this??? Thanks 💙

Role Playing: Stuck in "Character Type" Rut

Hmm... you definitely seem to be stuck in a "character type" rut as there are many different personalities and archetypes beyond what you've listed here.

A few things you can try to change it up:

1 - Character Archetypes - Do a search for "character archetypes" to learn some different types of characters. While archetypes can have all different personalities, considering different archetypes can give you a fresh new foundation for the personalities you gravitate to the most.

2 - Character Traits - You can also change up favorite personalities by tweaking the specific traits a bit. For example, you can have a character who's nice and sweet but also an ambitious fashion guru. Or, you could have a character who is nerdy and smart but also old-fashioned and scatterbrained. Or, you could have someone who is evil and mean, but also artistic and emotional.

3 - Personality Generator - If you need some inspiration, there are lots of personality generators online that can give you different combinations of traits, like "honest, determined, and avoids conflict," or "creative, disloyal, kind, unintelligent."

4 - Personality Test Types - Look up MBTI types, enneagram types, or other personality test types to get some potential character models.

5 - Choose Random Traits - Another option is to consider is looking up a list of positive traits and choosing a few that jump out at you, then do the same with a list of negative traits. Just make sure everything makes sense together.

I hope the above will give you some ideas for how to venture out from your go-to character personalities!

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scaredshadowsswap · 7 months

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SCP Personnel and Snooping

In the SCP Foundation, there are loads of secrets, and it’s natural to be curious. However, not every senior researcher will let you view information above your clearance. Here’s what I think you could get away with.

Clef

Clef is tough. You can hypothetically get away with anything, but he won’t make it too easy. If you ask him personally, he’ll give you a different answer every time, and any version of his stories could be true. If you try to use his clearance to view something, he might laugh and help you, or he might report you. His motives are…generally unclear, so while you could hypothetically figure something out, think about how he could possibly react. You’ll probably eventually realize that he is a very clever manipulator, and will say whatever he can to try and prevent you from searching for information not meant for you. By the time you realize, it’ll probably have worked. He’s not gonna react the way you think he will, but consider how me might react anyway. Don’t think for a moment that he believes that you’ve “punished yourself enough by learning this” or any of that garbage. If you screw up, he’ll come up with some creative punishment on top of the paralyzing fear or whatever natural consequence came of it. If he thinks you’re prying for something that extends beyond the realm of “being curious”, he might shoot you right then and there. For example, looking for SCP-001 is just basic curiosity, and he’ll stop that soon enough. Looking into MTF dockets and reading every piece of information on them is suspicious, and you will die. You have no reason to be there. Also, if the Foundation ever figures out, he’s not gonna get in trouble for your actions. He’d most likely lie if it paints him in a better light. He’ll sit back and laugh as you get demoted.

Kondraki

Kondraki is known for water cooler gossip, so he gets how enticing information like that can be. He probably won’t care at all and won’t try to stop you, unless you put him at risk of getting in trouble. Things like using his clearance or looking through his desk will get you in trouble for sure. Other than that, go wild. He’s definitely found out stuff he wasn’t supposed to, so he’s not gonna get upset if you do the same. However, he’s not gonna help you run from the consequences of your actions, either. Whatever the consequences are, you get to deal with them by yourself. Kondraki takes a very “hands-off” approach to this, which gives him deniability. He didn’t see you do anything, he won’t say anything. One of his earlier assistants died after looking at a cognitohazard. When he was interviewed, Kondraki simply stated: “Dr. ████ fucked around. Dr. ████ found out.”

Gears

Gears will absolutely not help you learn anything you’re not supposed to. The Assistant Director of Site-19 did not get there by being lenient with restrictions. That being said, I’m not sure Gears would catch on that easily to what you’re doing. He’s generally emotionless, which doesn’t mean he can’t read others’ emotions, but it means he could miss tiny details that make you look suspicious. With Clef and Kondraki, there’s no way you could hide the fact that you’re looking into Foundation secrets. With Gears, he would probably miss it, whether that be due to his ability to comprehend emotions or sleep deprivation. Just don’t get caught, and you’ll be okay.

Glass

Glass is reporting you and then firing you immediately. I’m not actually sure if he has the power to fire anyone, but he will make sure it happens. The reason is simply because the information he works with is heavily confidential, and although it can be accessed in some situations, Glass’s morals stand strong. Unless he gets a direct order demanding anything else, he keeps strict confidentiality on what his patients tell him. You accessing any of his files is a huge breach of trust for his patients, and even if the specific file wasn’t confidential, there is no way Glass’ll trust you enough to work with you anymore. If you’re trying to figure out something about an SCP…why? You don’t work with them. If it’s an SCP, Glass’ll probably just talk to you. Maybe he’ll file an incident report, but at least he won’t think that you’re breaking the trust of others.

Shaw

Shaw will outright tell you stuff you don’t have clearance for. Considering they have clearance to pretty much everything, you just need to ask. However, you’ll probably have to explain why you wanted to know, and that can get embarrassing sometimes. If they’re putting you with Shaw, they’re expecting you to keep them in check a little, so you probably wouldn’t be the snooping type to begin with. Shaw doesn’t really report to anyone, so go wild I guess. It’s up to them if you get in trouble, and I don’t think Shaw would do anything unless you were acting super suspicious.

Strelnikov

It’s hard to find out any information as a researcher. As a Task Force member? They don’t even tell you vital info about the things you’re trying to contain. Strelnikov won’t report you for looking at stuff not meant for your eyes, but don’t think for a moment that he’s okay with it. He believes firmly in loyalty, and that loyalty means blind trust sometimes. If you’re looking at files above your clearance and he catches you, he’ll assume you don’t trust him or the other agents on your team. How can he trust you if you don’t trust him? Your next missions will be dangerous because he doesn’t trust you.

Rights

Rights is gonna be disappointed. She’ll be calm about it, but she’ll probably put restrictions onto your electronics and stuff. She may or may not fill out a report depending on what you looked at, but she’ll tell her friends about what you did, so you’ll have to deal with random people knowing what SCP you were researching. If you looked at the MTF dockets for information on an agent you had a crush on? You’d never live it down. Shaw would loudly proclaim your love in the cafeteria, and then everyone would know. Regardless, she gets where you’re coming from, but you need to understand that the rules are in place for a reason, so do not expect any help from her when you’re trying to break them.

#scp headcanons #scp #scp fandom #scp foundation #dr alto clef #dr clef #alto clef #agent strelnikov #dr gears #gears scp #dr kondraki #benjamin kondraki #dr rights #simon glass #dr glass #dr shaw

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redditreceipts · 2 months

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hi, I’m not sure how to word this right…I’m a transmasculine (NOT TRANSMALE) woman, it’s hard to explain exactly what it means but that’s the closest I’ve gotten, gnc works too I guess though doesn’t fully articulate it.

But I’ve identified as a lot of things since a really early age, generally always circling back to a trans man. Im a survivor of sexual abuse/exploitation, and I would always find myself identifying as the “stereotypical feminine woman” when I was in a worse state and wanted to be objectified, then identifying as a trans male when I wanted to be treated like a human. I figured this meant trans-manhood was what was really right for me, that womanhood was something I only went to as self harm, but recently I thought “would I want to be a man if women were treated like people too” and I realized I wouldn’t.

I support transgender and transsexual rights fully, but I really wish that there was more acknowledgment of sexism. Not just misogyny…sexism.

I thought I was above misogyny, but I’m only recently realizing at age 19 that I didn’t view women as human the way I viewed men as human, and I felt this way because of how I’ve been treated as a female all my life. The way people treat you from birth goes beyond anything a male could comprehend, and it’s so engrained that no one even notices it. We’re not allowed to express emotions or opinions because it’s “too much” and we’re “too loud” especially if we’re not white (which I’m not), we have to do so much more work to be considered an equal by men, we’re talked about in society as objects to be obtained rather than living breathing complex humans, we’re not given margin for error like men are, we’re held to higher standards, we’re constantly forced to prove ourselves in every single capacity in a way men never have to, we’re treated as objects and toys and constantly referred to only with degrading misogynist slurs, we’re aborted for our sex and not given the same education as male classmates and shut out of conversations and objectified before we can even walk, When it’s laid out like that, yeah it’s no wonder so many women (myself included) feel like manhood is the key to humanity. Because It is. Because in society there are people and women, and the current queer community is all too comfortable to bulldoze over this oppression and pretend there’s no such thing as sexism because acknowledging that means challenging their “everyone is valid uwu” shit. Im not saying there aren’t just actual trans men, of course there are, but come on.

Hey :) sorry for the late answer, I've been a bit busy so yeah

I think I kinda get what you mean when you say that you are transmasculine, and I personally think that if that's the best word to describe it, you should go for it! Identity is always a personal matter. I would however argue that identity does not override material reality, and in political terms, we are defined by our biological sex, amongst other things :)

And yes, you are so right when you say that there should be more of an acknowledgement of sexism in the trans community! Women are seen as subhuman, and a woman has to do much more than a man to just be considered a person. That is especially true in the intersection with race and sex.

And well, the trans gender community relies on upholding gender. How many transmasculine people do you see being annoyed when they're being called "she", and they say stuff like "You're calling me she? With my short hair? Dressed like this??"

the recognition of a member of one sex as a member of the opposite sex is much, much harder without gender steretoypes. Abolishing gender leaves us with the cold, hard reality of the oppression of the female sex. I feel like gender is all the pretty fluff and mystification of a brutal truth: Women are seen as less than human.

And yes, I also sometimes feel like I have to be super androgynous to be considered human. But I'm not, and trying to change your sex instead of changing the oppressive systems is like trying to be straight instead of challenging homophobia.

Anyways, I'm glad you're here :) Here's a cat with an octopus on it's head for you :)

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thegurlwhoisntthere · 4 months

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Trollhunters au where everyone in Arcadia who’s grown up there has some kind of inherent magic about them, although some have more than others.

This is kinda inspired by Your Future Hasn’t Been Written Yet by Sakon76 on ao3, in the sense that people generally have a type of magic that they’re drawn to and can become really good at, but some people can learn other types and become a Jack of all trade master wizard type thing.

Some types of magic in the fic are smith magic, techno magic, shadow magic, and winter magic. There’s more but some get into spoiler territory if u haven’t read it and are going to so…

Anyway, in this au any kind of magic you can think of probably exists here and in Arcadia, everyone is capable of at least one of them, with varying levels of power and breadth (amount of magicks they’re capable of), although most of them don’t know it.

For example, Toby is good at troll types of magic, geomancy mostly, with a hint of smith magic. Before he knows about magic he’s drawn to rocks as we can see in the show. He would probably be really talented at geomancy, but struggle to do anything or than lower level smith magic

Claire would be an example of someone more powerful. Even before she ever knows about magic, she’s weirdly aware of her surroundings, almost like she has a six sense. She’s always been able to see better in the dark. When she does learn about magic she picks it up surprisingly fast and the only reason she doesn’t branch out beyond shadow magic right away is because she doesn’t know she can, but she always wants to know more.

Everyone else would fall into similar types:

Jim would be really good at potions (cooking), but have a hard time with literally anything else. This makes be Trollhunter, needing to cleave stones, kinda suck and super stressful.

Mary, would be really good at the software portions of techno magic. She’s also good at weaving and energy, but she’s less powerful with them because she’s not as interested in them. She could probably have a similar breadth to Claire (maybe smaller), but less power because unlike Claire, she’s not interested in much more.

Eli would also be good at Techno magic, both the software and hardware and a few other things, but he’s not that powerful. Most of his abilities come from the fact that he’s genuinely just skilled with tech.

Steve and Darci are harder to figure out, but I think it would hilariously if Steve was really good with plants, but has no idea.

Like, he doesn’t even have to try to get plants to like him, and he has no idea because he’s never thought about it. His parents were not plant people and he’s not friends with plant people, before and after he learns about magic, so he’s just going around with some powerful plant magic and no knowledge about it. They land in Camelot and suddenly plants are sprouting where he walks??? There’s higher magic levels 900 years in the past, which is messing with his uncontrolled magic, but they don’t know that. I just want copious amounts of confusion.

And finally, Darci. I have no idea what kind of magic she would have. Is there such a thing as Dance magic??? Chill vibes? Wind? Who knows? Whatever it is, it’s cool and she’s good at it. Ooo maybe, like Empathy and aura reading? And wind could work with dance? Maybe? Idk, but I think her powers would be more subtle than the others.

These are only, like, the main teenagers in Tales of Arcadia that I’m pretty sure grew up in Arcadia, but this would apply to all the other kids and the adults that grew up here.

Btw, I don’t think I mentioned, the reason it’s only people who grew up in Arcadia is because of the Heartstone. It’s literally huge and radiates magic so powerful it actually affects the humans living above it.

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fragaria-imagines · 5 months

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hi!! i’m really loving this blog omg… could i request hcs of hallritt, puruth, and sanah helping their s/o who has bad sensory issues (specifically to touch and loud sounds)? thank you so much!! <3

Hallritt:

Hallritt would go above and beyond to help you with your sensory issues. He’ll research all day everyday on what’s the best way to support you when you’re going through a sensory overload, and will try his hardest to help you through it.

If your sensory issues are specifically to loud noises then Hallritt would have no problem with escorting you out of the premise and go somewhere more safer and calmer for you.

And regarding touch based sensory issues, Hallritt would make sure to only buy materials and fabric that are most comfortable to you, even if it means he has to make it himself.

Hallritt is a perfectionist in every aspect of his life and wants nothing more than to reduce your stress and anxiety that comes from your sensory issues, but there does a come a point in time where he realizes that he can cook your favorite meals, buy and sew clothes for you only using your favorite texture/materials, escort you out of a room if the noise is getting too much for you, buy you earbuds to cancel out the noises, and it still wouldn’t be enough.

In a perfect world, Hallritt would gladly stay by your side 25/8 but sadly he’s not able to be with you all the time due to his job as a knight, so he does his best to cherish his time with you and comfort you during a particularly bad day when he’s there.

Puruth

Puruth is not one to stay at one place for a long period of time, he is always on the go, so he always makes it a point to leave you with his jacket, his coat, a beret of his, or anything that reminds you of him, as a way to remind you that he’s always there for you even when he’s not physically present.

He isn’t the type to force you to do anything that you don’t want to do so if there’s a food that you don’t want to eat because of the texture, then he has no problem with going back to the kitchen and start from scratch to cook you a meal that would satisfy your needs.

As someone who tends to wear big oversized clothing and wears mismatched shoes, he understands how your sensory issues could also affect your choice of clothing so he’s more than happy to gift you some of his clothing if they fit your needs.

Puruth is a very patient person so if you’re going through a very bad case of sensory overload then he’s more than happy to sit there and wait for you to calm down.

While he may be an extrovert, he wouldn’t mind hanging out indoors with you in the castle if going outside would be too much for your sensory issues.

Sanah

Sanah is a very happy go lucky kind of guy, he’s the embodiment of happiness and positivity, and doesn’t like seeing you upset or anxious and would do anything to not make you feel that way.

However, Sanah isn’t very good at handling negativity or negative emotions in general, so owhen you were having a sensory overload meltdown for the first time in front of him, he was like a deer in headlights.

He had no idea what to do in that situation, didn’t know what to say to make you feel better, didn’t know what was the proper procedure to make calm you down, and ended up worsening the situation by talking to you during your meltdown, asking you questions like “y/n are you alright? do you need something?”, or trying to hug you to calm you down. Not realizing that talking to you or touching you during your meltdown could potentially make things worse.

However, after that initial hiccup, Sanah isn’t one to make the same mistake twice and now has a better grasp of understanding on your sensory issues and what he can and can’t do when you’re really going through it.

He knows that he best help he can give you is by being patient with you and make his presence known by sitting next to you in silence while you cool off without directly intervening for that could potentially make things worse for you.

While he is a very touchy and affectionate person he knows that you’re sensitive to touch so he won’t initiate any hugs or touches unless you initiate it first. He’s also has no problems with escorting you out from noisy places that trigger your sensory issues and going to somewhere more quieter and calmer.

#🍓: memoria #sanrio #fragaria memories #fragmem #hallritt #puruth #sanah #fragaria memories hallritt #fragaria memories puruth #fragaria memories sanah #fragaria memories x reader #fragaria memories headcanon #fragaria memories imaines #hallritt x reader #puruth x reader #sanah x reader

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she-posts-nerdy-stuff · 2 months

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Daughter of the Rain and Snow

Concept: Around ten years after the events of Crooked Kingdom, 25-year-old Captain Inej Ghafa frees Maya Olsen from a pleasure house in Ketterdam. Maya is looking for revenge against the man who put her in her position, a man who she knows nothing about except his name: Kaz Brekker.

Tags: @wraith--2 @lunarthecorvus @just2bubbly @real-fragments7 @cartoon-clifford @origami-butterfly @lady-a-stuff

Content Warnings: in more general terms I want to remind people to be aware of the nature of Kaz and Inej's experiences and relationship since even if I'm not directly addressing these things they tend to be implicit in any writing about them, but specifically to this chapter there's grief, kidnapping, and ptsd references.

Note: Same note as the previous 2 chapters: sorry this may have more typos than usual as I wrote it on my phone

Chapter 73 - Wylan

To be entirely honest, when Wylan had asked Aimee if he could help her with anything he hadn’t been expecting her to say cutting her hair. But he couldn’t see anything wrong with the request, so he agreed and once she was ready she went down to the third floor to get dressed. Wylan crossed the fourth floor landing and hesitated for a moment beyond Esme’s bedroom, then pulled the door closed and slipped downstairs. It was not to be dealt with today.

Aimee sat on a chair beneath the pagoda, twitching her fingers in and out of her fist. As soon as she’d begun to cut the first half of her hair away, her relief was palpable in the air. She laughed giddily, clutching the long, limp tresses between her fingers and staring at them with wide eyes. After she’s cut both sides, above her shoulders wherever the blades fell, Wylan took the shears.

“Stop me whenever you need to, alright?” he smiled, “I’m just going to try to even it out a bit,”

Aimee nodded.

It took a while - they went slowly, and Wylan was only reasonably certain of what he was doing - but eventually Wylan thought it looked neat enough to at least get her through until the opportunity to ask someone who had a better sense of hairstyling. Aimee stood up slowly, brushing her fingers through the locks at the front of her face. She giggled again, eyes shining.

Wylan almost jumped when he suddenly felt Aimee’s arms close around him. She was considerably shorter than him and her head rested on his chest as she held him; after a moment of hesitation Wylan gently moved one arm over her shoulders, but he did not want to constrict her further.

“Thank you,”

The glow she’d sparked in Wylan’s chest lasted all of ten minutes. He gathered the piles of hair they’d cut away between them into the bin then followed her back into the house, to immediately hear panic filling the air. Someone was shouting from upstairs and there were footsteps racing through the building.

He suggested Aimee go to the kitchen and find herself something to eat, then hurried up the stairs to where he could hear Nina and Jesper’s overlapping voices.

“What happened?”

They were on the second floor outside the office, Inej unconscious between them. She lay on the floor, her head and shoulders cradled in Nina’s lap. Wylan swallowed, fighting the need to look away, to close his eyes. Jesper was apparently thinking the same thing. He caught Wylan’s hand and squeezed it briefly, then knelt to lift one of Inej’s arms over his shoulders.Nina helped him lift her and between the three of them they managed to carry her messily but safely enough down the steps.

“She was shaking like anything when I went in,” said Nina, “Completely out of it. And then she just… stopped,”

They lay Inej onto one of the sofas and Nina quickly arranged her limbs so she was lying on her side, legs bent, one arm beneath her head and one laid nearly over torso. She pushed the hair from her face.

“You’re going to be okay,” she whispered to the unconscious girl, “I promise,”

She stood up and brushed her hands down her shirt, frowning.

“I’m going to get her some water,” she said, after a minute of trying in vain to coax Inej back to the conscious world.

Wylan was leaning forward from one of the armchairs, eyes fixed on Inej. After Nina had left the room, he felt Jesper tug gently on his sleeve.

“You should see this,” he murmured softly.

Wylan frowned and followed him into the hallway and Jesper pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket - its very edges streaked with blood.

“It’s… what he used to get her out the house,” Jesper told him, “I think it must be, at least. She gave it to me last night but I- well, look I just read it. It’s a marriage certificate - for Elinor and Albert Crull,”

Wylan frowned.

“You think we were right?”

“Maybe… the birth years add up, Elinor would be the same age as Orlagh,”

“Is her maiden name on there?”

Jesper glanced at the paper.

“Van Deen,”

Wylan shrugged. He didn’t recognise it, but if he and Jesper were right in their theories then that might not be her real name anyway.

“We could ask Inej to look at it?” he offered, uncertainly, “She might know what to look for,”

Jesper glanced at the door to the living room.

“When she can, I mean,” added Wylan, “This doesn’t have to be our priority right now,”

“I know…” Jesper sighed, “I know that. I just think she deserves to-”

“I know,”

Wylan slipped his hand through Jesper’s so their fingers intertwined.

They sat quietly in the living room for some time, watching Inej as though she might vanish at any moment. Aimee sat cross-legged on the other sofa next to Nina, running her fingers through her hair in silence and frowning. Nina could not sit still; every few minutes she would find herself something to do, fetching someone a drink or running the cloth she’d placed on Inej’s forehead back under the tap again, and when she was seated she drummed her fingers against her knee.

“I’m going to check on Kiada,” Wylan said after a while, “I know she needs to sleep but it’s late in the day for no-one to have seen her,”

Nina nodded vaguely. He wasn’t entirely sure she knew what he’d said.

Wylan felt that something was wrong as soon as he crossed the hallway and noticed that Kiada’s bedroom door was ajar. The guest room she’d been staying in was farther down the hall from the main landing, closer to the back of the house and sharing a wall with the master ensuite, so no-one would have noticed the door was open from the stairs. Wylan crept towards it slowly, anxiety trying to tug him backwards.

“Kiada?”

The door creaked at his gentle touch, swinging slowly open.

“Kiada, are you alright?”

The room was empty. The window was open - but it was on the latch and the key was still in it. The barest edge of a breeze lifted the thin curtains and they floated silently above the windowsill and the little plant that adorned it.

Wylan frowned.

“Kiada?”

He paced briefly back into the hall and called for again, and when no-one answered he returned to the bedroom. The only other thing moving in there was a scrap of paper on the bed; Wylan only noticed it when the wind caught it and the corner began to flap against the little jar that had been used to pin it to the mattress. Wylan pulled it free and briefly inspected the jar - which appeared to just be an empty jar - before pacing back to the door with the note clutched between his fingers

“Jesper?” he called down the stairs, and when no reply came after a moment: “Jesper!”

“There in one second!”

“Now,”

“Alright,” Jesper called from two floors below, and Wylan could hear his voice getting closer now, “What’s wrong?”

Wylan pushed the note into his hands as soon as he reached the top of the stairs.

“I can’t find Kiada, that was on her bed,”

Jesper’s eyes scanned the page.

“Shit. Oh shit. Erm - Inej! - Inej isn’t awake - Nina! Nina!”

“What does it say?”

“I…” Jesper glanced at Wylan, then back at the paper before he read aloud: “It’s Alby. ‘Hostage exchange within 12 hours, or I turn her into the stadwatch’,”

“Oh,” Wylan whispered, clamping his hand to stop it shaking, “shit,”

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the-wip-project · 3 months

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SloMo WriNo: Instantly Improve Your Writing With One Simple Trick

Want to make your writing instantly better?

Don’t we all?

Promising instant improvement is an easy way to hook eyes, (I’m sort of sorry for click-baiting you— but not too much.) so a lot of writing advice is framed that way.

But is it actually possible?

Generally the advice on those types of posts isn’t anything revolutionary. You’re told to eliminate adverbs/filter words/telling. Or perhaps the advice is additive. You should start using all 5 (or even 6?) senses in every description, do or don’t use certain tenses or povs, change up sentence lengths, use more paragraph breaks, and so it goes.

It’s (usually) all useful advice, especially when applied in moderation. (No one will come and shoot you for occasionally using suddenly or summarizing a scene instead of showing every detail.)

The issues is that a lot of writers (especially beginner writers) are seeking some sort of magic bullet. That one trick that will change everything and magically make you good. (never mind that ‘good’ is far more nebulous and subjective than anyone wants to admit.)

Sadly, once you get beyond learning things like punctuation and when to insert paragraph breaks, there’s not really any single technique that you can quickly apply and immediately lift the quality of your writing.

For the rest, it really takes time. Even if the advice is good, you need to learn when and how to apply it.

As such, there’s only one technique that will definitely make your writing better.

Practice.

Yeah. So boring. The least sexy piece of writing advice. Write more.

But it’s also the simplest. (Not always the easiest, but definitely the simplest!) Writing is not mystic or singular. It’s just like any other art or craft. The only way you get good is by spending time at it. And just like anything else, you’re going to be bad before you can start to get good.

You would never expect to become an accomplished guitarist by spending lots of time listening to and thinking about music, while almost never picking up your instrument to practice. And you will not become a good writer without practicing the action of writing.

It’s a comforting idea that gets bandied around at times, that writing isn’t just fingers on the keys or pen on paper. That it’s thinking and daydreaming and making mood boards etc. While those writing adjacent things are fun and undoubtedly can help you write, they are not writing. They are not practice.

Spending your time doing those things instead of writing do not make you a better writer, and obviously they don’t finish your novel or writing project.

Which is my goal here. To help you finish your project. As such I spend very little time on dispensing advice on plot or prose, and focus mostly on the process of writing.

That’s not to say that I don’t think you should spend time on learning how to write better prose, or how to create compelling characters and plot, those things are important! But if attempting to learn that stuff gets in the way of practice, then it’s counterproductive.

So don’t let the writing advice become the focus of your writing. Apply advice slowly, and don’t overwhelm yourself with trying to fix all your perceived faults at once. (I still have a difficult relationship with punctuation, but I’m learning. Slowly.) If you can, focus on techniques that interest you. Keep things low pressure— fun even?

Yes you want your work to be as good as possible, but also, you’re doing this writing thing because you enjoy it, right? So don’t allow the pressure to be good to stop you from having fun. If trying to apply a certain piece of writing advice is making you miserable, toss it aside. It’s either bad advice, or it’s not the right time for you to worry about it. Above all, avoid anything that kills your joy and makes writing a miserable chore.

So I guess this is my one piece of advice that will improve your writing (process) instantly.

Enjoy yourself, and ditch anything that ruins that joy. You’ll get better at your own pace, as long as you keep writing.

—Maree

Subscribe to my substack to make sure you don't miss a post, chat with me on the WIP Project discord, and tag any posts you make about the challenge with #slomowrino if you want me to see them!

#slomowrino #writing advice #get better #instant improvement

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goodnightmemes · 1 year

Text

HOUSE OF THE DRAGON SEASON ONE SENTENCE STARTERS

❛ I'd rather serve as a knight and ride to battle and glory. ❜

❛ We have royal wombs, you and I. The childbed is our battlefield. ❜

❛ I want to fly with you on dragonback, see the great wonders across the Narrow Sea, and eat only cake. ❜

❛ We must either act now or leave it with the gods. ❜

❛ The gods have yet to make a man who lacks the patience for absolute power. ❜

❛ I have only ever defended you! Yet everything I've given you, you've thrown back in my face. ❜

❛ To elude a storm, you can either sail into it, or around it. But you must never await its coming. ❜

❛ We should be free to speak our minds to one another. ❜

❛ I imagine even dragons get lonely. ❜

❛ I understand the order of things. I'm not sure you do. ❜

❛ If you mean to elicit some anger from me, you should know that you're failing. ❜

❛ Men would sooner put the realm to the torch than see a woman ascend the Iron Throne. ❜

❛ I'm right here, the object of your ire. ❜

❛ Do it. And be done with all this bother. ❜

❛ Proud men don't like having to look up. ❜

❛ Our worth is not given. It must be made. ❜

❛ None of it needs be this way in truth. ❜

❛ The boars squeal like children when they're being slaughtered. I find it discomforting. ❜

❛ Even I do not exist above tradition and duty! ❜

❛ How lucky you are to have a say in your own life. ❜

❛ All that I have, I owe to you. ❜

❛ Well, if you truly believe that, my dear... then you possess a generous spirit. ❜

❛ I was trying to help you. Will you not be helped? Why must every effort on your behalf be resisted - as if to the death? ❜

❛ You wear a crown. Do you also call yourself "King"? ❜

❛ How romantic it must be to get imprisoned in a castle and made to squeeze out heirs. ❜

❛ Though I do suppose you seem changed by your adventures. More mature, perhaps. ❜

❛ Marriage is only a political arrangement. Once you are wed, you can do as you like. ❜

❛ You can not live your life in fear, or you will forsake the best parts of it. ❜

❛ I have no desire to live in fear. Only solitude. ❜

❛ This is a vile accusation. ❜

❛ I have spent a lifetime defending you. But your heart is even blacker than I thought. ❜

❛ You said I could have anything. I want [name]. I'll take her as she is. ❜

❛ When one is never invited to speak, one learns instead to observe. ❜

❛ It's long past time our houses were united in blood. ❜

❛ Let us leave it all behind and see the world together... where we'll be nameless, and free... free to go where we like, to love as we like. ❜

❛ What will they say of me when the histories are written? ❜

❛ I deserve some say in the affairs of my own family. ❜

❛ Your obsession with those beasts goes beyond understanding. ❜

❛ The consequences of an allegation like the one you toy at would be dire. ❜

❛ Have I lost my sanity? Do my senses lead me astray? Or is everyone else asleep, dreaming the same woolly dream? ❜

❛ You have your honor and I have mine. ❜

❛ Dark rumors are hunting us. They nip at our heels. ❜

❛ The wise sailor flees the storm as it gathers. ❜

❛ How sweetly the fox speaks when it's been cornered by the hounds. ❜

❛ You may do as you wish, when I am cold in my grave. ❜

❛ You may know what is the right thing to be done, but love stays the hand. ❜

❛ No matter how fat the leech grows, it always wants for another meal. ❜

❛ Mayhaps the gods have scorned us for our insatiable pride. ❜

❛ What is this brief mortal life if not the pursuit of legacy? ❜

❛ Each of us is capable of depravity. And more than you would believe. ❜

❛ I will have the truth of what happened. ❜

❛ This interminable infighting must cease! All of you! We are family! ❜

❛ There is a debt to be paid. ❜

❛ What have I done but what was expected of me? ❜

❛ Exhausting, wasn't it? Hiding beneath the cloak of your own righteousness. But now they see you as you are. ❜

❛ We play an ugly game. And now, for the first time, I see that you have the determination to win it. ❜

❛ You and I are made of fire. We have always been meant to burn together. ❜

❛ They will fear what else we might be capable of. ❜

❛ And while I should like your support, I do not need it. ❜

❛ I would say it's nice to be home, but I scarcely recognize it. ❜

❛ I've done everything you've asked me to, and I try so hard, but it will never be enough for you. ❜

❛ Hold your nerve. What we do, we do for the good of the realm. ❜

❛ I must confess a certain uneasiness now this is at hand. ❜

❛ A generous offer. Or a desperate one. ❜

❛ But tonight I wish you to see me as I am. ❜

❛ Let us no longer hold ill feelings in our hearts. ❜

❛ It is you. You are the one. You must do this. ❜

❛ His last words to me and I was the only one to hear it. And now he's dead. ❜

❛ I recognize no authority but the King's. And until there is one... I have no place here. ❜

❛ It is our fate, I think, to crave always what is given to another. If one possesses a thing, the other will take it away. ❜

❛ I will do you the considerable courtesy of assuming there is a good reason for the outrage of my treatment here this morning. ❜

❛ You are wiser than I believed you to be. ❜

❛ You desire not to be free, but to make a window in the wall of your prison. ❜

❛ There is no power but what the people allow you to take. ❜

❛ Our hearts were never one. I see that now. ❜

❛ No king has ever lived that hasn't had to forfeit the lives of a few to protect the many. ❜

❛ Reluctance to murder is not a weakness! ❜

❛ We don't choose our destiny. It chooses us. ❜

❛ Whatever claim remains to me, you are now its heir. ❜

❛ Naught is to be done but by my command. ❜

❛ Come with me. I'll show you the true meaning of loyalty. ❜

❛ If you choose treachery, if you swear fealty now only to later turn your cloaks… know that you will die screaming. ❜

❛ Let's end this mummer's farce. ❜

❛ I do not wish to rule over a kingdom of ash and bone. ❜

❛ Dreams didn't make us kings. Dragons did. ❜

❛ You abandoned me... when I most needed you. ❜

❛ Hope is the fool's ally. ❜

❛ I will not fight you. I came as a messenger, not a warrior. ❜

#rp meme #sentence starters #rp sentence meme #sentence meme #rp prompt #inbox meme #roleplay meme #roleplay prompts #sentence starter meme #rp memes #rp prompts #*tv #*hotd

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star--joy · 10 months

Text

Necklace

The necklace is a small thing. Thin silver and blue wires are braided together to form the chain, from which hangs a polished charm, emblazoned with the de Rolo family crest. It’s been in the de Rolo family for centuries.

Percy’s mouth goes dry when it sees it resting against Vex’s tanned skin.

Prompt: “That necklace looks so beautiful on you.”

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: None

Words: 646

Originally posted: 6/24/22

Ao3 link: archiveofourown.org/works/48120247

The necklace is a small thing. Not dainty, exactly, but certainly nothing extravagant. Thin silver and blue wires are braided together to form the chain, from which hangs a polished charm, emblazoned with the de Rolo family crest. It’s been in the de Rolo family for centuries.

Percy’s mouth goes dry when it sees it resting against Vex’s tanned skin.

It really shouldn’t be anything extraordinary. He and Vex have been married for months now, and one would think that after all that time, he would have gotten used to her being a de Rolo.

And yet, as he watches the charm catch the sunlight through the window, glittering like something ethereal, Percy’s heart swoops and soars.

Gods, how does she always knock the breath out of him?

Vex lifts her fingers to gently fiddle with the chains as she descends the staircase where he awaits to take her to the ballroom for their gala. “I got it from Cassandra. She said it was okay for me to wear it,” she says. “But if you would rather I take it off…?”

That, at least, snaps Percy out of his revere. “Don’t you dare,” he insists, coming to gently tug her hands away from the charm so he can fully admire how it stands out against her freckled skin. “Gods, Vex. That necklace looks so beautiful on you.”

And then she’s smiling, wide and relieved and Percy is once again rendered breathless, this time by her sheer beauty alone. “You think so?”

It’s such an obvious attempt to fish for compliments, and Percy doesn’t give a single shit that he’s playing right into her hands. “I have never seen an accessory more suited to your beauty,” he whispers, hands coming to rest on her hips.

Vex’s laugh is smooth and sweet, like honey in tea. “I’m glad you like it. I—” she pauses, looking down briefly before murmuring, “I’m very happy to be a de Rolo.”

Oh. Percy’s heart does that swoop-soar thing again at the confession, and he just barely resists falling to his knees in a proper display of worship. Instead, he leans down to press their lips together, uncaring of how her lipstick is surely smearing on his own lips. How could something as trivial as that matter when he’s presented with the opportunity to kiss Vex?

“You are— absolutely— positively— impossibly— divine,” he insists, just barely pulling away enough to force each word out.

“And you, darling,” she coos, reaching up to fix the strands of white hair that got knocked astray in Percy’s near-frenzy. “We’re going to be late to the gala if you keep this up.”

“I cannot overstate how little I care about that, at the moment.”

Vex’s eyes wrinkle with the force of her smile and Percy wants so much to kiss her again, and again, and again, but she gently puts a hand on his chest to stop him. “As much as I would love that, I believe some important people are attending this event, and Cassandra will have our heads if we leave her to deal with them alone.”

Gods, how is she the sensible one? That’s supposed to be him! Heavens above, though, she’s left him with very little ability to think beyond how maddening she is, in the best way.

Percy clears his throat, and tries to freshen his dumb-struck mind. “Ah— yes. Right. Important people. Business. Boring things that pale in comparison to you.”

“There you are, darling,” Vex agrees, pulling back so she can tuck her hand into the crook of his arm and guide him along towards where the gala is already in full swing. He follows, though he already knows that for as much as he may try to be a good lord and host tonight, his attention will never fully leave Vex’ahlia. Really, though, who would blame him for that?

#Vex #Vex'ahlia #Vexahlia #Percy de rolo #Percival de Rolo #Critical Role #Perc'ahlia #Percahlia #Bad News Bears #The legend of vox machina #tlovm #vex'ahlia de rolo

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kanerallels · 9 months

Text

The final day of @kaneraweek is here, and with it, insane amounts of fluff!! I really liked today's prompt, and had a lot of fun with it (plus I got some AMAZING art to accompany it, check it out here!)

Read on AO3!!

Taglist: @laughingphoenixleader @heckin-music-dork @auroramagpie @accidental-spice @day-to-day-thots @firefoxtessa @cassie-fanfics @opalknight (DM me if you want to be removed or added from the list!)

It was always a toss up on whether Kanan woke before Hera did each morning. There were plenty of mornings when he woke up alone because she had an early morning mission, or because she’d never come to bed in the first place because she was too busy working on something for Sato or Ahsoka or one of the thousands of other people she was determined to help.

It wasn’t that Kanan disliked her helping people. She wouldn’t be the woman he loved if she didn’t do that. But that didn’t mean she should neglect herself, like when he found her awake at all hours of the night and early morning, studying a datapad or trying to find a new place to locate supplies for the Rebellion.

This happened far too often for Kanan’s liking, but he was already working on becoming an expert at convincing her to get some sleep.

Other mornings, he woke up first, finding Hera still asleep next to him. Some of the time, he slipped out of bed and did his morning meditations, readying himself for the day ahead of him. Other times, he let himself watch Hera sleep for a little while, just enjoying the fact that he was by her side.

But his favorite mornings were the ones where they got up at the same time, before everyone else— Sabine and Ezra generally slept in unless instructed otherwise, and Zeb had mastered the ability of getting up at exactly the right moment so they had at least an hour before he appeared. It was a routine they’d perfected over the past eight years, and Kanan loved it.

They made their way to the kitchen together— Kanan’s hair bundled out of the way messily, still yawning as he shuffled towards the cupboards. Hera looked a little more awake, other than the dark circles under her eyes that Kanan never mentioned but always worried about.

She was the one that went to the caf maker and started it, filling it with the aromatic beans. No one made caf like Hera. Kanan had sworn up and down from the first time he’d tasted it that it was the best he’d ever drunk, and she would always laugh at him. But she kept making the caf, and he’d still take it over the fanciest brews from the moons of Rion and beyond.

While she worked on that, Kanan started on breakfast. What he made varied from day to day— most mornings it was something quick and easy, like oatmeal or frozen sausages or something they could make quickly. But there were times when he liked to go with something fancier, too. French toast, bacon and eggs when they could get them, waffles (Zeb and Ezra’s favorite), or the spicy sausage from Karlini that didn’t come pre-formed (Sabine’s favorite).

This was one of those days, and he started digging through the cooling unit to see what he could come up with.

“What’s on the menu today?” Hera asked from her position by the caf maker, her voice still a little raspy with the sleep. Kanan felt the corner of his mouth turn up into a small smile at the sound. Even now her voice was the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard.

“Good question.” Frowning at the contents of the cooling supply unit, Kanan said, “Well, we’ve got a couple eggs left— not enough for breakfast burritos or anything like that. But I’m pretty sure we have enough flour left, and we’ve got butter— is there baking powder in the cupboard above you?”

Pulling open the cupboard, Hera pulled out an orange tin. “There is.”

“Good,” Kanan said with a grin. “Waffles it is.”

Hera snorted with amusement as she passed him the tin and started to open the cupboards next to her. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

“Because you know how much everyone, including you, loves my waffles?” Kanan suggested, pulling the waffle iron out of its specially assigned alcove in front of him and plugging it in. As he began to assemble the ingredients, he heard Hera laugh, and couldn’t resist a smile in response.

It had been a little over seven years since he’d met Hera and joined her crew, six since that relationship became something far stronger than just crew mates, or even friends, and closer to five since a series of near death experiences including being jumped by a bounty hunter, the Ghost getting stolen (along with Zeb and Chopper), and getting stranded on a tropical planet had led to their relationship becoming something permanent.

While Hera’s culture didn’t do wedding rings, the moon orbiting Rion where they’d made things official did, and Kanan hadn’t hesitated at the price. He’d been ready, ready to commit everything he had to this woman. And, by some miracle, she had been, too.

Neither of them still wore the rings— giving the Empire more leverage against either of them was the last thing they wanted to do, and that would make it too obvious— but Kanan still carried his with him everywhere. He knew Hera did the same.

As he started mixing up the batter for the waffles, he sensed rather than heard her behind him, and glanced over his shoulder to see her approaching with two mugs of caf. “Thanks,” he said, turning and accepting the mug gratefully.

“Any time, love.” Settling against the counter next to him, Hera watched as he took the first sip, closing his eyes to savor the taste.

Opening his eyes, he grinned at her. “Incredible as always, Captain Hera. If this Rebellion thing doesn’t work out, you could set up shop.”

Though she rolled her eyes, Kanan could see she was pleased. “You’d better hope this Rebellion thing works out.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Kanan said, turning back to his work. Setting his caf mug to the side, he selected one of the few remaining eggs as he said, “I think it would be a pretty good job for us. You make the caf, I make the food.”

“And where does the Empire fit into this daydream of yours?” Hera quipped, and Kanan frowned.

Cracking the first egg, he said, “Forgot about them. Fine, we’ll do it after this whole Rebellion thing works out.” He cracked two more eggs, then started measuring out the milk as he continued. “Now, obviously, the kids can come with us. Zeb’s the busboy, Chopper and Ezra can be waiters, and Sabine’s my sous chef. Rex can even come if he wants— what?”

He caught Hera watching him, an odd expression on her face. “Nothing,” she said, glancing back down at her caf. “Just— it sounds nice, actually.”

“Of course it does,” Kanan told her. Pausing, he set aside the measuring cup and moved to stand in front of her. “Hey.”

She glanced up, and Kanan felt his heart flutter just a little when he met those green eyes of hers. It had been years, but words still failed him half the time. He thought they probably always would.

“Hey,” she said quietly, smiling at him. “What?”

“Once this is over, I’ll go anywhere you do,” he told her. “You know that, right? We’ll figure out what our future is together once we win this.”

“If we win this.” The words were quiet, and Kanan knew why. Hera was always the strong one, the one who had utter faith in the Rebellion. At least that was how she acted.

But everyone had doubts, even her. “When,” he told her firmly. “We’re gonna win this.” Leaning in, he kissed her gently, feeling her move away from the counter and towards him.

When he pulled away, he added, “And that’s a Kanan guarantee.”

As he moved back to work, he heard Hera laugh. “That’s not a thing.”

“It should be.”

“Hmm, I don’t know about that, dear.”

As Kanan poured the first dollop of batter into the waffle iron, he shot her a grin. “Then you’re just gonna have to trust me.”

The smile she sent back warmed him to the core. “You know I do.”

Kanan briefly contemplated stealing another kiss, but he could hear the sounds of doors opening and voices from deeper in the Ghost. The kids were up, which meant their limited private time was over for now.

But that was alright. He had the rest of his life to spend with Hera, and his family, and he intended to enjoy every minute of it.

#kanera week #star wars rebels #swr #kanan jarrus #hera syndulla #kanera #kanera week 2023 #honestly this is one of my favorites for this year #i'm not totally satisifed with quite a few of them #but all things considered it was a pretty good week!#writing stories is a kind of magic too

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