#even though it requires struggle and shapes you

[mswyrr]

Random aside, but I’ve been thinking about Carmen Berzatto as a “realistic fiction” version of some of the same themes handled in Peeta Mellark through the vehicle of Sci Fi metaphor.

I always read the hijacking--and how its violence and overtaking of his identity comes after Peeta expressly says all he wants, believing he will die in the Games, is to not become their creature, to not be changed from who he wants to be--as a great metaphor for patterns of abuse and how it gets inside you and can be so hard to uproot and for the way patriarchies beat boys into violent shapes, into being useful tools, and away from the things they love and truly want.

It works for me because it overtakes him but only for a time - in the end, he has the grace and support to embrace the care, love, art, and food that he wants his life to be, even though the hurt leaves marks. I connect that with the idea of how there can be times when, no matter how hard you want to “not be shitty,” it can be easy to lose yourself - but you can find a way back, you can have a good life on your own terms with scars.

I see it as two different approaches to talking about similar things - different genres nonetheless sharing in common the necessity of the moment of losing yourself and then having that come back, through your struggle but not alone, not all by your own power, also through the people around you loving you, for the love you put out into the world coming back to you when you most need it.

Because it’s a dramady and draws on the traditions of comedy--the uplifting side of life, vs the tragic side--and we already start with the tragic loss of one Berzatto son who didn’t find his way through the underworld, I think Carmy is going to come out of the cold, dark place (walk-in fridge or underworld? Both?) in s3. The alternative would be a very.... odd story, I think. Because if they have him keep going down down down and never rising, then the whole thing collapses. The Bear is lost, the people who have become a community scatter. It just doesn’t fit the tone and themes for me. We *start* at a place of everyone being scattered and damaged by Mikey’s loss - it would be nihilistic and repetitive and dramatically uninteresting to do the same thing with the younger brother. And the writing has never displayed that kind of vibe.

But I also think s3 will begin with him continuing his descent before hitting rock bottom and rising. It’ll get worse before it gets better. The descent is fraught with hope, though - because when the person comes back from that they’ve dealt with the things that haunt them. Their wounds have become healed up scars? And they own the person they want to be now, rather than being torn between the influence of others and their own heart’s yearning for better.

Regardless of what setting and genre you’re using, it’s a powerful arc, the descent and the rise and I’m looking forward to it because I believe they’ll pull it off well - they’ve done so beautifully with other characters struggling and rising, why not the lead?

BTW, I will curl up in shipper feels forever if part of his rise from the “underworld” involves Sydney symbolically giving him back to himself--giving him back things he wants to be vs things he’s being drawn into by the pressures on him--like how Katniss gaves things Peeta shared with her back to him: 

At a few minutes before four, Peeta turns to me again. "Your favorite color ... it's green?" "That's right." Then I think of something to add. "And yours is orange." "Orange?" He seems unconvinced. "Not bright orange. But soft. Like the sunset," I say. "At least, that's what you told me once." "Oh." He closes his eyes briefly, maybe trying to conjure up that sunset, then nods his head. "Thank you." But more words tumble out. "You're a painter. You're a baker. You like to sleep with the windows open. You never take sugar in your tea. And you always double-knot your shoelaces." Then I dive into my tent before I do something stupid like cry.  

Who you are, in the end, is who you want to be and the best of yourself you share with others comes back to you. It’s doesn’t just disappear.

#carmen berzatto #peeta mellark #my meta #bear meta #the bear #i guess i really love #sweet artistic cooking dudes #who are canonically mentally ill #with abusive moms??? #lol #and more seriously: i love the promise and hope of depicting that struggle #and even if you fall for a time all is not lost #you are not worthless or doomed #to be 'their creature' #just because they left some scars and influenced you #being mentally ill isn't doom either; it's just a thing #the mere fact of that damage doesn't determine who you are or what your life has to be #even though it requires struggle and shapes you #both carmy and peeta are also about how brutal #the world is to gentle boys #who want to make art #and live at peace

[theleotarot]

How Your Person Of Interest Sees/Thinks/Feels About You

Choose the image you are most drawn to or resonate most with… pile 1, pile 2, & pile 3 ✨

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Pile 1

(Knight of Pentacles, Nine of Pentacles, Three of Wands, Knight of Swords, The Unknown Card, Three of Swords, Mentor, Plane, & Thriving)

Hi Pile 1! Welcome to your reading. ♡

Your person of interest sees you as someone who is very hardworking in all areas of your life. Perhaps, right now you are pursuing a degree or job, or maybe you are working towards a goal that requires lots of resilience and financial responsibility. Your person sees you very successful as well. I am also getting this energy that they may think you are above them in some way, whether it be financially, emotionally, or mentally. I really think they do look up to you in every way regardless if you feel like you are struggling yourself or you feel like you can do better. They see you as someone who is very helpful to other people and the community. Your job or every day work may involve with interacting and helping people out, and this is confirmation that this is your pile! They might find you very funny and young at heart as well. I'm getting that some of you may not think you're funny, but your person definitely thinks that you are. I'm getting that you may be the type of person to also laugh things off when you feel scared or hurt, it's kind of like a coping mechanism, only for some. Besides that though, I really do think your person sees you as someone who radiates bright energy and that's why people and even animals enjoy being around you. Not only they see you as bright energy, but they also see you as someone who attracts very much positive things into your life, again, abundance, school, work, you name it. What your person thinks about you is that you have a huge future ahead of you, and you have the ability to achieve your goals if you just go for it. I believe that they also think that you are very good with your words. Again, I keep getting this energy from your person of interest that they do not think they are as good as you. Honestly, I feel like they are intimidated by your potential and success. I believe that your person is going through something difficult or heartbreaking. It may be because of a separation, insecurities, or any kind of past trauma, but it is unknown. I think that this difficulty they are facing has an affect on how they feel about you. I do think that their feelings for you are developing though. I think that this person just cannot show your their full interest or attention because they need to focus on themselves more. Even though they are facing their own difficulties, I do believe you cross their mind, and their feelings for you have potential in growing into something bigger within time. Overall, I feel like your person sees you as a light in their life. They really look up to your for your positivity and ambitions. I think that once they get their life together and feel better about themselves, their feelings for you will escalate and they will start to show how they truly feel.

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Pile 2

(Ten of Wands, Ten of Cups, The Fool, King of Wands, Eight of Swords, The Magician, Shape-Shifter, Flowers, & Transformation)

Hi Pile 2! Welcome to your reading. ♡

Okay pile 2, before I start your reading, I just want to say that this is the sweetest pile. 🥺 Okay let's carry on. Your person sees you as someone who carries or has carried a lot of baggage on themselves. Perhaps, you have struggled financially or educationally, or you have really struggled with your family or friend relationships. I also get this energy from you that part of your baggage has something to do with the fact that you always put others as a priority rather than yourself. You are always sacrificing yourself, even if it costs you your happiness. Even though you've been through so much emotional baggage, you continue to persevere through adversity, and your person of interest definitely sees this about you. They see how hard your life has been, yet you find the power to proceed with your life, and they find this absolutely inspiring about you. It's like, you have the choice to stay in despair and yearn for a better life, but you choose the opposite and make changes to your life to be happy instead. Your person sees that you have amazing grit and can also adapt to your environment, whether it be difficult or easy. They might also see you as someone who is very emotional and someone who wants to have their own family and children in the future. They can see you feminine as well. The way that your person sees you is very warm and precious. There are lots of pink and purple in your reading pile 2, so this means that your person sees you very delicate and they are really romantically connected with you too. I think they think you are confident in your actions as well, and whatever risks or actions you take, you are able to go through with it. I think your person thinks you're very playful as well. Even though sometimes you may feel stressed or upset about certain things in your life, your person knows that inside of you, at the very core of you, you are actually a very warm, delicate, loving, affectionate, and playful individual. I think that they believe that you deserve the best, pile 2, especially since you've gone through so much. They also think of you as a flower. Not only are they beautiful and delicate, but they're also a product of growth and transformation. Your person not only sees you for your beauty but for also all your hard work, tenacity, and sacrifice. Pile 2, I believe that your person has very romantic feelings for you, but they do not know how to come forward with it towards you. I believe that they want to turn your bond with them into something more, but they are intimidated at the same time. I think that maybe you have a chance to come forward instead, and this will save your person a headache lol because they feel for you so much. One more message I'm getting is that they see you as a butterfly. Again, you have transformed so much in your life. You may have felt stuck in the past and over worried, but you will grow into your wings and you'll be set free to fly. Your reading is beautiful pile 2. Your person deeply feels for you.

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Pile 3

(King of Pentacles, The Hermit, The Star, Seven of Cups, The Tower, Four of Wands, Servant, Unity, & Protection)

Hi pile 3! Welcome to your reading. ♡

Your person of interest finds you very, very attractive, and maybe even very addicting pile 3! I say this because The Devil card popped out twice in the back of the deck. You're quite appealing to them I would say. 😏 Anyway, I think you give off independent vibes to your person. You're very successful, and you're independent. You're not a loner, you're in solitude. There's a big difference between those two. I think they see you as someone who does not take bs either (I'm getting that some of you here are more mature so I can insert bs here lolol). I think they see you as someone very helpful to others. Maybe you are a people pleaser, for some? I just got that. Your person also might see you as quite mysterious. You may be more of the quiet type, and they are intrigued by you. They just want to know more and more about you. I get the feeling that your person also thinks that you may have a lot of people lined up for you in regard to romantic partners. Your person may think that they don't even have a chance with you because you're so hot lol. They do think of you as a star though. You radiate light in their life, and I think that they may admire you from a distance, and they keep their feelings to themselves at times. I think that when you or if you have conversations with them, they will feel very emotionally connected with you. Your conversations with them are easy, and they feel like they can open up to you about pretty much anything comfortably. I think this is what separates you from others. You just get them in a way that no one else does, this pertains to your conversations with them, as well as your looks. 😉 One random thing, I think they might like your hands lol. Your person's feelings for you are strong pile 3, it's a given here. I think they did not expect to be this attracted to you though. Maybe some people here are in a work or classroom environment with your person, and your relationship with them could almost feel "taboo" but they can't help but be so drawn to you. Another situation I’m seeing here is a friend dynamic. Just take what resonates. I think that your person does really want something more with you though. I think if you two were together, they would really make it known to the world that you are theirs and they would celebrate your love lol. They also feel very protective over you. Even if you are already strong on your own and independent, your person still wants to be the one to protect you at all costs and even be your knight in shining armor. I believe that your bond with this person does have potential to lead to something more pile 3, even if you do not talk to them, the both of you still have potential together. Overall, they are so attracted to you pile 3. Do you ever have that person that you like so damn much that they are ruining your life???!! Yeah, that's you to them. Lol.

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#tarot reading #love reading #pick a card #pick a pile #pac #love pac #oracle #oracle reading #free tarot reading #crush reading #tarotblr #tarotcommunity #daily tarot

[ickadori]

[cws] fem reader. violence -> sukuna beats up a coworker for you lol. fade to black noncon oral.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

The dull sound of steel toed boots knocking against your wooden apartment floors come to a stop outside of your bedroom door. Your fingers pause over your keyboard as your stomach does a lurch, heart-rate quickening just a bit, and you save the essay you had been working on and close the lid of your Macbook.

“Ry..” Your voice dies out halfway through the call of his name, and you try again, getting no answer in return—no verbal one at least. The knob gives a quick turn and you flinch, and then there’s another thud, this one a bit lighter — a small thump of his boot against the door to push it open.

And there he is.

“Ryomen.”

“You left your front door open again.” His voice is rough, a slight drawl to it, almost lazy-like. “I told you about that.”

“Sorry, I forgot.” A crazy concept considering you’re a young woman living on your own, but you’ve had a lot on your mind the past few days, and your own safety was the last thing on your mind. Besides, Sukuna had showed his face around your complex a few times, and that was enough to deter most people from even looking in your direction for fear of getting his unwanted attention.

He chuffs and enters your room.

You look behind him to the darkly colored, boot-shaped spots that he’s left behind in his wake, and your teeth worry at your lip as you think about all the scrubbing you’ll have to do. He follows your gaze, head turning and angling down, and he clicks his tongue.

“What a mess.” He snickers, and you firmly press your lips together as he continues on, his steps slower this time, smaller, boots now leaving behind double the footprints because of his adjusted pace. What an asshole.

Now that he’s closer, you can make out the dark splatters of something on his jeans, along with the blooming bruises on his knuckles. The balls of your feet rest on the base of your desk chair, and you smooth your hands down the length of your thighs.

“Is it—are they…?” You trail off, not wanting to just outright ask it. You never liked to say it out loud after it was all said and done, yet you had never once struggled to get the words out whenever you first went to him, skin hot with anger and eyes sparkling with rage as you begged -demanded- that he do something about whoever it was that had managed to work you up so badly.

“Are they ‘dealt with’, as you so tenderly put it over the phone?” He finishes your question, fingers moving to lift the lid of your Macbook open. It hasn’t been closed long enough to require your password, and the black screens quickly flickers back on to display your half finished essay. “What’s this?”

“An assignment.” His finger makes a feint to tap at the delete button, and you yelp and quickly grab ahold of his hand with both of yours. “Please don’t do that.” The corner of his mouth quirks up as his eyes pointedly look at how you’re grabbing him, and you quickly let him go, thoughts of what those hands had likely did just a little while ago springing forth.

“I put ‘em in the hospital - nothing that’ll kill her, can’t say the same for her baby though.” Your stomach instantly sours, and a gasp forces its way out of your throat as you stare up at him with wide eyes.

“Baby?” You croak. “She was pre—” You can’t finish the sentence, a lump instantly forming in your throat as tears begin to blur your vision.

“Nah, I’m just fucking with you.” Sukuna barks out a laugh and you pause, expression still fixed into one of abject horror. “Or maybe she was, who knows—‘s not like I gave the bitch a pregnancy test before I broke her jaw.”

“Okay, enough.” You stress, fearing that you’d dirty the rug underneath your feet with stomach acid if he didn’t stop talking soon. While you may have envisioned all the ways he would deal with your bitch of a coworker two days ago, your argument with the outspoken women still fresh in your mind, you were calmer now, reasonable, not hellbent on revenge and willing to make a deal with the devil incarnate to see it exacted.

You thought he’d scare her a little -it wouldn’t have taken much, just a quick flash of his impossibly sharp canines and the sight of those black lines marring his otherwise handsome face would have done the trick-, maybe just toss her around a bit and take her wallet, call her a few names and send her on her sad way.

“Don’t get all mushy now. This was your idea, remember? You called me.” He looks over the trinkets on your desk, touching things here and there and invading your personal space all the while. You breathe in and catch a whiff of your coworkers signature perfume on his jacket, a scent that you had grown to hate, and you scramble to get out of your seat, only for a heavy hand to push down on your shoulder and keep you in place.

You make a noise of confusion and look up at him, but he doesn’t bother glancing at you, suddenly engrossed in the sight of a tattered, mini plushie that you had received as a gift years ago as a child.

“Where are you trying to run off to?”

“I—your money. I-I was going to pay you, for…you know…like I usually do.” His hand slips from your shoulder to the front of your neck and you suck in a sharp breath through your nose, watching as he finally looks down his nose at you, his lips twisted in that ever present smirk.

“I never asked for your money.” You frown, fingers twitching to push his hand away from you, but you curl them into your palm and keep them on your thighs.

“But you said—” His hand tightens around your throat just a bit, and your hands fly up on instinct to grab ahold of his wrist.

“I said you’d have to pay me, yeah.” He sighs out through his nose. “Never said how you’d pay me though, now did I?” His hand that isn’t squeezing at your neck suddenly fists your hair at the root and harshly tugs it back, the pained noise you make quickly being choked down. He looms over you, and Gods, has he always been this terrifying? You had always been wary of him despite Yuji’s never ending defense of his older brother.

“He’s not a bad guy, baby, I swear. He just got mixed up in some stuff when he was younger and did a few years.”

“He’s not mean, he’s just…well, I guess he is mean. But he’s not that mean!”

“He actually likes you, believe it or not…yes, I know he keyed your car but it was only because you double parked in the driveway and he thought it was Megumi.”

A rough thumb brushes across your bottom lip, and you’ve known enough men to know the look he’s giving you. You bristle, and he subdues it with a squeeze that leaves you coughing and pushing at his stomach. He takes the opportunity to push two fingers, pointer and middle, into your mouth, and you gag when a metallic taste hits your tongue, eyes widening and feet moving to kick at his shins.

“I’ve been wondering how it’d feel to have my cock in here,” he squeezes again, fingers pushing a bit deeper, “wondering if you’re as good as Yuji says you are.” You shove at him harder, and just when you build up enough courage to snap your teeth down against his fingers, he pulls his hand back from your mouth. You suck in a gasp of air at the short reprieve, only to lose your breath once again when his hand moves to his buckle.

“Let’s see if you can take it.”

#sukuna x reader #i #do not like this piece it was torture writing it but m gonna post it anyways bc i’m that guy!!

[utilitycaster]

An ongoing theme, with regards to the gods (as opposed to Predathos and the Imperium) is that of free will. The gods are stringent in collecting on promises made, and the Betrayers will use initial consent as license to act freely, but it’s notable, in a campaign where nearly all the main player characters are shaped by entities that never once gave them a choice, the gods require an invitation. Except, worryingly, Predathos, a being of nigh-divine powers who does not seem bound by this limitation. And, of course, mortals can do as they will.

When Lolth overtakes Opal, the fact that Opal assumed both the crown, and the title of champion, willingly, is repeatedly mentioned, in DM narration and by Lolth herself. Lolth also mentions to Dorian, (perhaps untruthfully, though the events of EXU indicate this might be genuine), that she wished for him to become her champion instead - but he did not put on the crown, so she can’t have him. Obviously, Lolth takes many liberties with Opal once given entry, but she can only speak to people or act through someone who has permitted her. We see this too with Asmodeus: it is ultimately Zerxus’s choice not to walk away and face his death, but make good on his pact; some degree of initial consent is needed. K’nauth and Judicators are also both explicitly described as voluntary: once permission is given, they are bound, but this is no different than the contracts of warlocks and notably, with the gods, while we’ve seen them make deals under dire straits, we’ve never seen such unwitting participants in their pacts as Fjord with Uk’otoa or Laudna with Delilah among the gods. All entered in control of their faculties, to our knowledge, though not necessarily with the full knowledge of what it entailed.

The Prime Deities are differentiated from the Betrayers in that they continue to provide free will to their champions and their faithful. The Raven Queen accepts Vax’s trade of his life for Vex’s, given without any direct communication from her, but she quickly does begin to communicate clearly; when Vax communes with her in Duskmeadow, she tells him what she wishes, putting him much more at ease. Later, after his death, she gives him an option to either remain dead, or to have a little more time left with Keyleth, Vex, and the others of Vox Machina before he completes his task and returns to her, and he makes a choice. When Morrighan asks for guidance, the Raven Queen’s response is to ask “why are you fighting, and what are you fighting for?” and stresses that she wishes to lay out the exact terms before Morrighan agrees to anything. When Percy asks her what to do she, ironically enough for a goddess of fate, tells him he possesses the capacity to do great things of his own accord. All of Vox Machina’s divine favors come willingly, only after a conversation; the Wildmother first reaches out to Fjord before he decides to accept. And mortals have the capacity to resist even these promises; Opal is only partially successful but she does not give the Spider Queen two deaths and she does not leave alone. Fy’ra Rai finds herself able to go against Lolth’s wishes even when the Wildmother does not wish to intervene; it is her choice not to kill Opal but to go with her.

When mortals express doubt in the gods, it’s typically not their actions. It’s because they don’t think they meddle in the matters of mortals enough. As mentioned, Percy struggles with the open-ended nature of the Raven Queen’s advice. Essek, frequently considered an “anti-god” character is actually quite mild in his doubt and ultimately more frustrated at the clerics of the Kryn Dynasty than the Luxon itself (put a pin in that). Ludinus Da’leth states the gods should have prevented the Calamity, despite us knowing that the Prime Deities avoided intervention and that ultimately, while the Calamity had a number of causes, mortals (Vespin, Laerryn, much of the city of Avalir) were at the root. Ashton and Imogen’s frustrations with the gods have both ultimately been that they asked for assistance and did not receive it.

The extension of the Prime Deities’ belief in the free will of mortals is sufficiently strong that even during the Age of Arcanum, when many mortals rejected them, and when they did not require mortal intermediaries, they still chose to preserve it until the Calamity began. Each major action by the gods as a group is ultimately one to preserve themselves (the sealing of Predathos; the destruction of Aeor; the current campaign’s truce) or to preserve mortals (the Primes during the Schism and in creating the Divine Gate).

Contrast this with Delilah, who seizes control of Laudna and who is never stated to have asked permission for any of her actions. Compare to FCG, designed by Aeorians to lose control and kill. Compare to Chetney, bitten by a werewolf in the wilderness (and the others of the Gorgynei as well) - indeed, what control he has is the legacy of magic granted by the Raven Queen and by a nature spirit tied to the Wildmother. Contrast this now with Predathos, whose Ruidusborn had no say in this connection and indeed, many are motivated in service to Predathos with the goal of freeing themselves. Enforcers within the Kreveris Imperium refer to themselves as The Will, and Elder Barthie refers to those who oppose them as being made “pliable”. Chetney’s loss of control under Ruidus is deliberately triggered by the Weave Mind, with whom he made no deal.

If we (in my opinion, rightfully) reject any argument that denies the right of sentient entities to self-preservation, we are left with the following accusations of the gods: failing to stop wrongdoing by mortals (both in their name and unrelated); and acting in accordance with pre-existing agreements. The latter we can also reject; it is not perhaps kind of the gods to hold people to their contracts, but this is not unique to them and as discussed extensively above, they do require that, at least initially, the promise be made willingly.

The former, unfortunately, will not be stopped by destroying the gods. Ultimately, such people as Tuldus, Bor’Dor, and the people of Hearthdell were oppressed by their fellow mortals. In-world, we have seen zealotry in the name not just of the Prime Deities but that of countless lesser ones, notably Uk’otoa; if only the Prime and Betrayer gods are at stake, this simply creates a power vacuum to be filled by other entities vastly more powerful than mortals. On the other hand, should all power-granting entities be devoured, setting aside the upheaval this will cause in society, this leaves no shortage of room for oppression on the basis of race or political affiliation, both of which we’ve seen. The Tal’Dorei Campaign Setting’s original incarnation, prior to the further development of Wildemount for Campaign 2, even stated the Dwendalian Empire forbade all religion and was still an authoritarian one. Colonization is the end goal of the Weave Mind and indeed the motivation for killing the gods per Edmuda. It also is not unheard of on Exandria for reasons not attributed to religion, notably the settling of the Menagerie Coast by Marquesians, and Tal’Dorei (formerly Gwessar) by human settlers from Issylra. And, of course, as we know in our real world, you do not need provable deities for religion to develop nor for colonization and oppression. Mortals do these things in reality and Exandria, whether or not the gods exist, and destroying the gods in Exandria achieves no prevention, only carnage.

Returning, finally, to Essek: when we look at the major characters who are PCs or are aligned with them who have expressed frustration with the gods, the only one who has much of a case for being influenced by the actions of a deity is Percy, who is staunchly on the side against Predathos. One could split hairs and note that Vecna was not a deity at the time of the murder of Percy’s family, his own torture, and the destruction and occupation of Whitestone, but rather merely a power-hungry wizard extending his lifespan via unscrupulous means, but Percy’s own choices render this moot. Meanwhile, the gods simply did not alleviate Imogen and Ashton’s experiences, both of which were in part due to powers caused by entities the gods, in fact, failed to sufficiently destroy (Predathos and Ka’Mort specifically) and mostly perpetuated by mortals reacting to Imogen’s abilities or Ashton finding themself orphaned on the outskirts of a notoriously rough city and later, caught as the fall guy in a failed heist by a morally questionable wealthy collector.

It is my belief that Keyleth’s anger is, on some level, extended towards someone who can’t respond nor change and who she feels she cannot be angry at, and that is Vax. Vax made the deal and the Raven Queen collected; Vax decided to take the Raven Queen’s second offer. He was forced into neither, and as discussed later, he likely would have responded poorly to a True Resurrection attempt given his faith. Vax is dead because of Vecna, but neutralizing Vecna didn’t fix it. I think Dorian’s anger at Lolth meanwhile is valid, but it’s also something I’d imagine he feels he cannot direct towards Opal, even though her actions are a part of it. And I’m sure both Keyleth and Dorian blame themselves, to an extent, whether or not that is rightful. The gods make just as convenient a scapegoat for those hurt by mortals as they do an excuse for cruelty.  But I don’t think killing them will bring back Vax, and certainly not Cyrus. Much as Derrig and Will and four other Ashari lie permanently dead at the hands of Otohan Thull despite her demise, and Orym’s trauma remains, killing the gods will not undo what happened to Imogen or Ashton. And since their main crime is considered to be inaction, killing them does not end suffering (and, indeed, should we dig into the infrastructures of Exandrian society and cosmology, may very well drastically increase it). It merely confirms that no one will receive their favor rather than only some; a bringing everyone down to your misery rather than striving to elevate all. An apt, if slightly tongue-in-cheek comparison to the real world is the fact that the cause of student loan forgiveness has been hamstrung and neutered by people furious that, since they didn’t receive help, no one else should - it is a self-centered and retaliatory mentality to lash out so far in jealousy that one would willingly destroy the life of another with the goal of increasing universal suffering.

Sources:

Timestamps available upon request but here are the episodes I’m drawing from. Printed works include pages.

Lolth, Opal, and Dorian: see 3x92-93; see also EXU Prime episode 8, EXU Kymal episode 2 for Opal willingly accepting and EXU Prime episodes 5 and 7 for the Spider Queen trying to get Dorian to put on the circlet.

K’nauth: EXU Calamity episode 2

Asmodeus and Zerxus: EXU Calamity episode 4

Judicators: 3x43

The Raven Queen and Vax: notably 1x44 (initial deal), 1x57 (Duskmeadow communion), 1x103 (her offering him the choice to pass or to become a revenant). Percy is also in 1x57.

The Raven Queen and Morrighan: 3x93.

Vox Machina’s divine favors: 1x104-1x106

Fjord and the Wildmother: 2x65; powers granted in 2x76.

Fy’ra and the Wildmother: 3x93

Essek’s feelings: see the final portion of this excellent post from essektheyless

Ludinus on the gods: 3x45

For causes of the Calamity, see EXU Calamity in its entirety, but Vespin specifically is episode 4, many of Avalir’s actions (including ignoring the hall of prophecy) are episode 2, and Laerryn denying the Arboreal Calix needed energy and casting Blight are in episode 3).

Ashton on the gods: 3x65

Imogen on the gods: 3x79

See page 12 of The Explorer’s Guide to Wildemount regarding the Prime Deities’ choice not to enforce their will during the Age of Arcanum.

Sealing of Predathos: 3x43; destruction of Aeor: EGTW 121; Truce mentioned in 3x67 and has appeared in 3x89 (Vezoden) and 3x92-93 (The Wildmother and Lolth).

Schism: EGTW 12; Divine Gate EGTW 13-14.

Delilah seizing control: 3x23

FCG’s design: 3x32 and 3x45

Chetney and Gorgynei (history and control): 3x40-41

Weave Mind control of Chetney: 3x91

Goals of Ruidusborn: multiple but see 3x48 and 3x89, 3x92 for a strong example with Liliana.

Imperium practices: 3x84

Tuldus: 3x44. Bor’Dor: 3x63. Hearthdell: 3x60-61.

Actions of Uk’otoa: much of Campaign 2 but notably 2x98 and The Mighty Nein Reunited.

Original description of the Dwendalian Empire: Tal’Dorei Campaign Setting (not Reborn) page 99

Goals of the Weave Mind: 3x85

Colonization of the Menagerie Coast: EGTW 17 (largely a peaceful one); Colonization of Tal’Dorei: Tal’Dorei Campaign Setting Reborn page 18 (explicitly stated to be against the wishes of the elves; led in part to the rule of Drassig and Scattered War).

Percy and Vecna: Vecna ascends in 1x106; the events of the Whitestone Occupation begin prior to campaign 1. Percy is in multiple war councils against the Vanguard and notably appears in the plans for a distraction to allow Bells Hells to take the Bloody Bridge in 3x81.

Imogen and Predathos: the revelation that Predathos may be within exaltants comes in 3x92; 3x83 and 3x87 both have involuntary experiences due to Predathos and see Liliana’s arguments in 3x48 as well as Imogen’s discussion of Gelvaan.

Ashton and Ka’Mort: emotional fallout most notably in 3x78; Evontra’vir’s description of what happened with the shard in 3x74. Memories of the Hexum Manor heist can be seen in 3x35.

#critical role #long post #cr meta

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Sweet indulgence 🛼

Written for the Valentine's Day pop-up challenge of the @steddieholidaydrabbles blog.

Rated: G

CW: none

Tags: No UD AU; Future fic; Flirting; Sexual Tension; Record label owner!Eddie; Waiter!Steve; Steve in roller skates; First date (Eddie says it counts 💖)

Notes: continued from this one.

"You can’t be fucking serious,” Steve says. 

“Why not?” Eddie throws the garishly pink flier back down on the table. “It’s still Valentine’s Day.” 

“For thirteen more minutes,” Steve bristles, pen pressing down on his little notepad so hard that Eddie is afraid he’ll punch a hole through it. “You don’t even have a date.” 

“Didn’t know that was required,” Eddie grins. “All I’m saying is, if you offer a Valentine’s Day special, then that special should be available for the entirety of Valentine’s Day, so …” 

Steve makes an exasperated sound, but still jots down the order. 

“You’re being ridiculous,” he barks over his shoulder as he pushes away from the table and disappears into the kitchen. “Just so you know.” 

Eddie watches him glide away, legs and ass a meal in their own right in those shorts and knee-highs and the fucking roller skates. 

Maybe the boy has a point. Maybe he is being ridiculous. 

It’s not exactly normal behavior, discovering that your former high school king is now a waiter at the diner down the street, and then promptly declaring said diner your new after-work dinner spot. But Eddie never claimed to be normal. And he’s always been a tad bit obsessed with Steve Harrington, so here they are. 

Steve has long resigned himself to his nightly visits. Never once has he acknowledged their shared history, and Eddie hasn’t pushed. Instead, he’s slowly putting together all the little puzzle pieces he’s been collecting. 

Steve will grumble and scowl and bitch over Eddie’s absurd orders and constant attempts at flirting, but he never fails to pocket his generous tips, so he must be struggling financially. He’s pulling at least one job besides the one at the diner. Most likely a babysitting gig, as indicated by the sparkly hair clips and stickers that Eddie regularly spots in his hair and on his clothes. He’s also not seeing anyone, because if he was, he sure as hell wouldn’t be working the night shift on Valentine’s Day. 

He also hasn’t eaten in a while, if the tummy rumble as he brings the order is anything to go by. Eddie quirks a brow. Steve blushes and hugs the tray to his chest. 

“Enjoy your meal,” he says, but Eddie holds up a hand and gestures invitingly at the empty seat opposite him. 

“Join me?” 

Steve’s brow furrows. “I’m on the clock.” 

“Oh yeah, and super fucking busy, I can see,” Eddie quips. “Indulge me, my liege.” 

Steve chews on his bottom lip, casting a hesitant glance towards the kitchen. Finally, he sighs and slips into the free seat. Eddie hands over one of the two cupcakes on his plate, decorated in a lopsided tower of frosting and a smattering of heart-shaped sprinkles. Steve devours nearly half of it with two enormous bites, and if triumph blooms warm and heavy in Eddie’s chest, that’s neither here nor there. 

“So,” he drawls, ignoring his own cupcake in favor of stacking his chin on top of his folded hands, peering at Steve over the rim of his sunglasses. “How was your day? Been handing out lots of these little babies?” 

Steve rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah, sure,” he says around a mouthful of frosting. “Have you seen this place? Premium date spot. So classy and romantic.” 

They lapse into silence for a few seconds. Steve grabs the milkshake with the two straws without waiting for an invitation and takes an enormous sip. There’s a tiny pink sprinkle at the corner of his mouth. Eddie resists the temptation to reach out and wipe it away. 

“What about you, huh? You own the record label down the street, right? Surely your day was much more interesting than mine.” 

So he isn’t the only one who’s been puzzling, Eddie thinks. 

“Hellfire Records,” he nods, happy to ramble about his baby, even though Steve’s attempt at diverting the topic is not nearly as subtle as the boy may think. “We have some pretty cool bands, but I’m not sure they’re your taste, exactly.” 

“Oh?” Steve shoves the last bit of cupcake into his mouth, licking leftover frosting off his fingers. “Bold of you to assume that you’d know my taste. Indulge me?” 

Eddie does. 

Steve does, it turns out, know fuck all about metal and grunge, but he’s surprisingly interested and open-minded. Much more open-minded than Eddie would’ve expected from Hawkins High royalty. By the time they wrap up their little talk and make their way over to the counter, Steve has finished not only the milkshake, but also the second cupcake.

When Eddie hands over the usual fifty, Steve hesitates. 

“You already gave me all the food.” 

Eddie smiles easily. “So? Gotta let my favorite waiter know I appreciate him on this fine holiday.” 

Something flits over Steve’s face, something open and vulnerable, but it’s gone as soon as it came. 

“Don’t think you can buy my affection, Eddie,” he murmurs, snatching the bank note from Eddie’s fingers and stuffing it into his apron pocket. 

“Don’t worry,” Eddie winks and saunters towards the door - carefully making sure to keep the giddy spring out of his step. Steve called him Eddie. Not Munson. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” 

“Good,” Steve calls after him. “See you tomorrow?” 

“You bet, big boy,” Eddie says. He’s just about to leave when something else occurs to him. “And I’ll be sure to pick a nicer spot for our second date, promise.” 

Steve’s blush is as pink as the sprinkle that’s still stuck at the corner of his mouth. Eddie doesn’t wait for his retort, just shuts the door and makes for home, grinning like a maniac.

🛼💕🛼💕🛼💕🛼💕🛼💕🛼💕🛼💕🛼💕🛼💕

Tagging some ppl who expressed interest last time: @p0lybl4nkk @fairytalesreality @colidamae @dissociatingdemon @steddhie @formosusiniquis @steddiehasmywholeheart @ellaelsinore @rozzieroos

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie brainrot #steddie fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #steddieholidaydrabbles #steddieholidaydrabbles pop-up challenge #upside diner AU #ready to roll? #hype's holiday drabbles 2024

[1nephthys]

It's beautiful, isn't it?

Word count: ~0.9k

PLEASE DO NOT COPY.

Summary: If you can't sleep at least you can watch something pretty, but are you sure you are the one that gonna watch it?

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x f!reader

Warnings: English not being my first language

She was getting frustrated.

Turning around on her side of the bed for what felt like 6850 time while her boyfriend was soundly asleep beside her. She looked at the clock on her bedside table just to see that it was just a few minutes past 5 a.m.

If she can't sleep, at least she will watch the sunrise. She thought to herself.

Quietly, she make her way out of the bed and to the balcony of the apartment she was sharing with Charles in Monaco. On her way, she looked at her sleeping boyfriend and felt the peace. It wasn't often she had him at home, right beside her with his work that required a lot of traveling and her job that not always allowed her to go with him for support. She wished she could be with him at every race but at the same time, she needed to make her own money, even though he could support both of them and then sixty other people. She simply couldn't imagine fully depending on someone else.

She sat on one of the chairs on the balcony, facing the beautiful city of Monte Carlo and the breathtaking view of the water that looked even better in the light of the sun waking up. Even though their apartment was on really high floor, she still could hear two teenage girls laughing on the street. She wondered if they were coming back from some sort of party? Or maybe one of them had just broken up with her boyfriend and the other one tried to cheer her up?

Her thoughts were cut short by the balcony door opening and soft voice of her boyfriend.

"Hey" He said quietly, rubbing sleep off his eyes. She turned around to look at him and oh, how lucky she was to have him. "You okay?" He asked with his French accent.

"Yeah, I'm sorry if I wake you up. I just couldn't sleep. I thought I might as well watch the sunrise." She answered him quickly. He moved closer to her, not with a single thing in his eyes that would make her feel guilty, and just now she noticed the hoodie he was holding, even though he was shirtless himself.

"It's not that warm early in the morning." He handed her the hoodie, the one that technically belonged to him but in reality, it smelled more like her perfume than his. And he was actually right because at this point she could feel chills going up and down her body. She was quick to put it on. "I will get cold if you don't let me sit with you."

And how could she resist this argument? He helped her stand up just to take her place and then pull her onto his lap. He wrapped his arms around her waist and she dropped one of hers behind his neck playing with his hair.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" She asked looking at the view behind a glass barrier.

"It really is." He answered a second later, only that he wasn't looking at the wonderful Monaco, but the sweetest face just a few centimeters away from his. "Did you catch any sleep tonight, cheri?" He asked her worried.

"Not really, but it's okay. I'll be fine." She said with little, forced smile. Now in his embrace, she actually did feel kind of sleepy and of course, he noticed that as she put his head on his shoulder.

"Well sweetheart, feel free to take a little nap anytime." He told her quietly traveling with one of his hands up to her hair and giving her little massage.

It took her only a few minutes to fall asleep in the safe and warm embrace of her boyfriend who was now looking at her with the most heart-shaped eyes ever known to humankind. All he wanted now was to get to the warmth of their apartment but he knew that if he even try to move a muscle she would wake up and struggle to fall asleep again. So he sat there even though he was getting cold with nothing but his shorts on and her on his lap.

Couple more minutes, he kept telling himself.

In the mid-time of his girlfriend getting to deeper kind of sleep he finally looked at the view in front of him, the one she was talking about, and indeed, it was beautiful. But then he looked back at her and with full confidence decided that he had even prettier sight right in his arms.

For a moment he even forgot that he was cold but he noticed goosebumps on her legs and decided that it was time to get inside because if he don't wake her up by that, the cold will do it.

He carefully picked her up bridal style and carried her right to their shared bed. He put her down and get it himself. It was enough for her to find his shoulder again and put her head on it with her arm going around his waist. He did not waste any time with pulling her even tighter to his chest with his hands around her body.

It wasn't even 6 a.m. so it wouldn't hurt them to sleep for a few more hours. So, with all the sleepiness still in his body, it didn't take long for him to join her in her sweet, sweet sleep.

a/n. It's been a long while since I wrote something so it feel kinda weird. But here I am because it is actually 7 a.m. in my country now and I hadn't get any sleep in last 3 days so it's either this or finding a guy named Tyler Durden. Idk. Hope you enjoy it:)

#charles leclerc #charles Leclerc imagine #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x f!reader #charles leclerc fluff #f1 x reader #f1 imagine

[turbulentscrawl]

I love ur Frederick Headcanons!! Can we please get some sfw and nsfw hcs for him??

Happy holidays ;)

SFW

-Frederick is one of those partners who isn’t around a lot. He’s often wholly consumed by music and spends long hours sat at the piano. He keeps a private music room and is strict about people coming in when he’s working. He needs focus. He struggles with prioritizing anything over his music, especially when he’s obsessed with perfecting a particular song. This will a life-long struggle for Frederick, but it is something he’s willing to make an effort towards correcting when he’s in love.

-Refer to his general headcanons post for specifics about his disorders; he requires a lot of grace and accommodation in a relationship. It’s almost certain that you’ll be putting more emotional labor into the relationship because Frederick has to put so much into just regulating himself. He’s easily overwhelmed, and has an avoidant attachment style due to his communication skills breaking down when he’s frantic enough. The best advice I can give is to establish a plan of action with Frederick that you can use on his worst days to help him.

-He’s not a “fun” or “spontaneous” socialite. He’s tired of changing who he is for social settings, of pushing his looks and playing sweet to gain favor. He still has to sometimes…which is why he doesn’t like when his partner suggests activities that would also require it. He doesn’t even want to have get-togethers with your friends, though he is willing to meet them after you’ve been together for a while. He’s not keen on spending a lot of time with them, mind you, mostly because it reminds him that he doesn’t have anyone in his side of things to introduce you to.

-In line with the above, with the exception of performances and networking, Frederick is a homebodied introvert. His date night ideas are often set on your property. A picnic in your garden, maybe? Stargazing? When he has the funds, he likes to hire a private chef to come prepare a nice dinner for you both. He’ll occasionally invite you into his music room to play for you, as well. Any song you’d like! Even if he doesn’t like it. You’re always the first to hear his new songs, and he often dedicates new ones to you.

-Frederick isn’t a bad housemate to have, which is fortunate since he’s there so much. Because he was disowned by his family, he’s had to develop some skills people of his birth typically don’t. He helps with the chores, cleans, and is a fair cook. He still occasionally needs help with little things, but those are few and far between. He yearns to go back to the days of not having to do these things himself.

-Frederick likes when you give him the option of being the dominant partner. That is, he likes when you look to him for decision-making. He does his best to be fair and consider both your opinions, if they differ, and he feels that you deferring to him like that means you have faith in his judgement. This goes for little things too, like just asking him to order for you when you’re out for dinner.

NSFW

-Some of you may hate me for this…but I look at this man and think “foot fetish.” He’s certainly not a pervert about it, but you’ll notice over time that he compliments your shoes a lot (especially heels) and admires any pedicures you show off just a little too intensely. You’re in luck if you like a good foot massage because that’s a go-to foreplay for him. He’s not going to complain about some shapely legs, either.

-Frederick has a very slight oral fixation, too. He’s down for a bit food play as long as it’s not something too difficult to clean up, and he enjoys giving oral. He has a habit of humming songs while going down on his partner; he says it helps him keep a steady rhythm, but honestly who cares because the vibrations from that feel amazing.

-Aside from those, Frederick is pretty vanilla. Due partially to the amount of stress his mental illness causes, he’s not in the mood for sex as often as others. When he is in the mood, he’s more of a “make love” kinda guy. He likes to have romance, to set the mood. Foreplay tends to be several hours long with plenty of sweet flirting, gentle touches, and any other means of building anticipation. He’s not rough in the bedroom at all, and prefers simple, face-to-face positions like missionary.

-He’s always going to have some underlying fears of being used for his looks, so he prefers to be in charge in the bedroom. If you want him to submit to you, he can be convinced, but he needs a lot of reassurance as aftercare or else he’ll silently grow paranoid. (This is also why he’s such a romantic in the bedroom. He needs obvious reminders that love is involved in this act and not just lust.)

-Frederick loses track of time a lot and is used to isolating, but spending a longer period away from him is a sure-fire way to make him desperate for you. You’re going to be gone for a month to visit family? Well, no worries, he’ll be fine…until the last three days. Then, like a switch is flipped, he’s a man starved to the brink of death for his love.

#idv x reader #identity v x reader #frederick kreiburg x reader #idv composer #spicy content #turbulentscrawl

[andypantsx3]

Deceiving the Duke | 2 | Todoroki Shouto

pairing: Todoroki Shouto x Female Reader

length: 3.2k of 30k words | 2nd of 9 chapters

summary: When Camie Utsushimi elopes on the eve of her society debut, scandal threatens to destroy the family’s prospects. It’s up to you, a lady’s maid, to impersonate Camie throughout the Season, long enough that her elder sister can make a match. The only trouble? Lord Shouto Todoroki is also intent on making a match—and that match, quite impossibly, appears to involve you.

tags/warnings: romance, regency au, class differences, hidden identity/identity porn, aged up characters, eventual smut

The next two days were a whirlwind of activity.

Camie’s dresses arrived, neither quite your shape nor your height, and they required a significant amount of modification to make them wearable. Mrs. Utsushimi helped you select one appropriate for the Monomas’ ball, and you focused all your effort on readying it in time, working into the late night to rework its shape, letting out some seams and taking in other hemlines.

Caroline helped as well, though she mostly only knew embroidery, but she saved several hours unpicking stitches, and covering over some of your hasty needle work with neat little embroidered embellishments.

In addition, Caroline had you practicing all manner of things. She had you stumbling around the sitting room, trying to learn an overwhelming number of dance steps. She herded you into the kitchen to observe table manners, how to sip from a spoon and how to select the appropriate silverware for a course. She tried to impart tips on how to move with elegance and propriety, how to curtsy and when and to whom, proper fan etiquette and conversational etiquette.

Your head swam with the unbearable volume of new information— a thousand ridiculous little nothings that apparently added up to everything.

By the time the Monomas’ ball arrived, you were exhausted, having barely slept or eaten a thing in days. You helped the Utsushimis dress and did their hair, then spent an inordinate amount of time struggling with your own. Caroline helped you match a choker with a small paste diamond to your gown, a pale blue muslin dress which bared entirely too much of your neckline for your comfort.

“Good,” Mrs. Utsushimi pronounced when she met you at the doorway, your stomach churning with anxiety. “You look the part, at least.”

This did not help ease your nerves whatsoever. As the carriage pulled into the Monomas’ drive, you had to suppress a wave of nausea.

Inside, things were even worse. The reception room was stuffed with more nobility than you had ever seen in one place. They were all awash in contrasting shades–the men all marvelously outfitted in dark tailcoats, the women in a posy of pale-colored gowns that practically glowed in the candlelight. Jewels sparkled off of slender necks and at the point of every ear, and the soft pad of boots and slippers against the wooden floors created a sort of murmuring undertone that dampened the sound of the space.

Immediately overwhelmed, you clenched your fingers, still raw from sewing. Your calluses caught the inside of your evening gloves and you winced.

You did not belong here.

Caroline helped take your mind off of things by showing you where to collect a dance card, which you quickly filled with nonsense names to prevent you from having to stand up with anyone, though you doubted you’d be asked. Then you followed the Utsushimis nervously to a conspicuous place on the edge of the dance floor, where Caroline could be seen clearly by any prospecting gentleman.

It was a great relief that at least you did not also have to try to tempt a husband, as the very thought of trying to converse with a gentleman made your skin crawl. You did not envy Caroline, whose whole future had to be decided in this one season, who would have to live with her deception exposed shortly thereafter.

Your place in the crowd meant you were also exposed to the other members of the gentry, however, and you were quickly descended on by all manner of Machiavellian mothers, scouting out the new debut to determine if you posed any sort of danger to their own daughters’ prospects.

“You must be Camie,” a woman in an extravagantly outfitted gown bore down on you. It was so begotten with lace and ribbon and netting that you could hardly make out the shape of the woman underneath. She looked friendly enough, but you had been warned by the Utsushimis never to trust a placid expression.

Your heart climbed into your throat, panicking at being so addressed.

“The Lady Cathleen Bate,” Caroline hinted to you, and you dropped a curtsey, hoping you’d gotten it right. Mrs. Utsushimi did not look upset, at any rate.

“Lady Bate,” you said, trying to control the nervous timbre of your voice. It came out high and strangled anyway.

“I must say, you don’t look a thing like your mother and sister,” she observed, and your heart beat double time.

Fuck, obviously you didn’t look anything like the Utsushimis. Why had any of you thought this was a good idea?

“I…take after my father’s coloring,” you supplied hastily, praying to any god who’d listen that she’d never met the man before his passing.

She made a thoughtful noise, a cross between a hum and a harrumph. It was loud enough that it summoned the attention of the other ladies nearby, and very quickly you were inundated with questions and evaluative once-overs by every scheming mother this side of the ballroom. They practically ran through a checklist of your qualifications, sussing out whether you played piano forte, what sort of needlework you did, what kind of education you’d had, and a laundry list of other incredibly pointed questions that made you feel like you could only ever supply the wrong answer.

Caroline and Mrs. Utsushimi did their best to help field questions and to give answers where your obvious lack of formal education became a hinderance—really, how many oblique references to Sophocles in the original Greek did one need to make before they concluded their training was superior to yours?–but it was all too overwhelming.

Mrs. Utsushimi seized an opportunity when the next question about your appearance came your way. She tried valiantly to draw attention away from you with a dramatic retelling of her husband’s demise, waving her fan as theatrically as she wielded her handkerchief.

The moment everyone’s attention was turned towards her, you took your chance.

You ducked away from the gaggle of women, worming your way out of the crowd. You tried to take care not to arouse notice, as you’d been informed an unmarried girl wandering about without a chaperone was much too bold. You beelined past the refreshments table, unable to help lifting a glass of lemonade and several apricot cakes for your troubles, and headed for a promising door on the opposite side of the room that you thought might be a closet.

It turned out to let into a library—quiet, dark and still. You could just barely make out the shape of a few low armchairs and spines of the books by the silvery pool of moonlight spilling in through a row of heavily-curtained windows.

You rushed in, and quickly shoved the door closed behind you. A wave of cool relief sent you slumping against it. Shifting your spoils to one hand, you yanked down a glove with your teeth, annoyed at how constricting the fabric was, how hot and clammy it had made your hands, then made quick work of the other one.

“Fuck,” you muttered again, delighting in the rudeness of the sound. Even twenty minutes in this company had been too much–you didn’t know how anyone could bear it. Camie herself would have never lasted. “Oh fuck…what have I got myself into?”

“I’m told it’s called a library,” a low voice intoned from the other side of the room, and you screamed, reflexively flinging your handful of snacks in the direction of the voice.

A tall silhouette ducked your apricot cakes, and the silence that followed could only be interpreted as astonished.

All hells, you were so deeply unqualified for the scheme you’d embroiled yourself in.

“I—I didn’t see you—oh, I’m sorry—” you said, watching the figure take a step towards you. The crack of light from under the door highlighted one grey eye and a mop of white hair, a sliver of fair skin. A man.

The proper thing to do would be to leave. You’d been informed to be caught alone with a man was the height of impropriety–-and here one was. But the thought of going back out there made your stomach churn, and you clutched at the door handle uncertainly.

“You’re not…Lord Monoma, are you?” You asked.

The man’s silver eye narrowed in on you. “No,” he said. His tone was low and smooth.

Well at least you hadn’t offended your host, then.

Before you knew what you were saying, the plea was tumbling out of your mouth. “Please let me hide out in here! I’ll give you anything for use of this room. If I have to go back out there I will die.”

There was another moment of stunned silence, and then the man asked, strangely, “I may go, then?”

You squinted at him in the dark. What in hell was that supposed to mean? You weren’t the gatekeeper of the doorway. And of course he should go, for propriety’s sake.

You quickly stepped aside, gesturing to the door and hoping he could see it in the dim. “All yours, thank you for your generous aid in my time of need.”

But the man made no move to leave, and that silver eye stayed fixed on your face. “You’re certain,” he said flatly.

Just what was he getting at here? Could a girl not get alone time with a glass of lemonade?

“Sir–my lord–I’m not sure of your address, I apologize—” you fumbled. “You may stay or go, but I quite require use of this room. If you will excuse me…”

But he still made no move to leave. “And no one is going to…happen upon us here?” he said, his tone even lower and more disbelieving.

Your anxiety spiked. “You don’t think they will, do you?” You asked worriedly. If you were subjected to one more derisive sneer over your inability to read two thousand year old Greek, you would die of humiliation. You quickly moved towards the drapes at the window, inserting yourself behind one.

“If they look for me, you don’t think I’ll be noticed here, do you?” you asked.

There was only silence again, completely judgmental in its ringing emptiness.

If you were really a lady, you supposed you might feel vaguely offended that a man should treat you thus. But you weren’t here to matchmake, so he could do whatever he liked. You shrugged, sliding down the wall to pull your knees against your chest, and took a sip of your lemonade, thankful you hadn’t flung that at him too.

How embarrassing.

The curtain was suddenly tugged back, however, and the man stared down at you. In the moonlight from the window you could just make out two glittering eyes, the straight line of a handsome nose.

“Who are you?” he asked lowly.

“Camie Utsushimi,” you offered, then wondered if you should have made up another name.

Rudely, he did not offer his name back. “Who are you hiding from?” he asked.

“Lady Cathleen Bate, and every other mother who wants to know if I’m to steal their daughters’ prospects out from under them. As if I could, as if I would!” You said moodily.

The man contemplated this in silence. You sipped your lemonade as he seemed to come to some kind of decision.

He made a sort of long sighing sound out of his nose, then offered quietly, “I too, wish to avoid such judgements…”

His tone was flat, but sincere. You recognized the statement for the peace offering it was.

“We can share the hiding place then,” you allowed. “But you must not tell anyone.”

Those eyes glinted in the moonlight, almost speculatively. “You have my word.”

You handed over your single remaining apricot cake to cement the entente. “An honor doing business with you then, sir—or, my lord…?”

His gloved hand brushed your own as he took the cake from you, and he paused, staring down at your bare fingers.

Your face warmed. Right, the gentry were strange about the intimacy of bare skin.

You quickly shoved your gloves back on, cheeks heating, searching for something to fill the awkward silence.

“So, whose daughter’s prospects are you stealing?” you asked stupidly.

The man coughed suddenly, which sounded suspiciously like it might be covering something like a laugh.

“I rather thought gentlemen were the prospects,” he allowed.

You supposed it would be rude to tell an actual gentleman that he and his ilk should hardly consider themselves such, considering how needlessly troublesome this whole marriage market affair was.

“Yes, well,” you said vaguely. “In that case, make sure you’ve brushed up on your Ancient Greek so your wife may accurately test into your coupling.”

Those eyes glinted down at you. Reflecting the moonlight, they were both pale, but you almost imagined they were different colors—his left eye looked a little bluer, perhaps due to the angle he held his head at.

“Must there be a test?” he asked in that low voice.

“Of course. How else do couples converse, if not in Ancient Greek?” you asked.

Those eyes creased, as if the man were smiling. He said something, a string of sounds you couldn’t place—until you realized.

You rolled your eyes, taking an angry sip of your lemonade.

“Yes, a wonderful party,” you answered, as if you’d at all understood what he’d said.

A huff of breath left him, and you knew you were being laughed at.

“Rest assured, I am entirely unsuitable for marriage,” you informed him. “Not a lick of piano forte in me either. Luckily I’ve just been introduced to several young ladies I might recommend to you.”

“Ah” the man said, somewhat knowingly. “This is your debut, then.”

You were struck again by how low and warm and beautifully smooth his voice was. You wondered if his face was just as beautiful as his voice.

“Yes,” you answered, your mind flicking back to the flock of pecking hens back in the ballroom. Then a thought struck you.

“Who are you hiding from in here?” you asked.

The man was quiet for a moment, as if weighing his answer. “...The mothers of the very ladies you’ve threatened to introduce me to,” he said finally.

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you. “They’re bloodthirsty, I will give you that.”

His eyes crinkled a little again, perhaps with another small smile. “I’ve seen their like only once before.”

“Where?” you asked gamely.

“The War for All,” he answered, and another laugh burst out of you.

You shouldn’t have laughed—the War for All, an incident from nearly a decade ago, had been the closest the country had ever come to its downfall. Princess-Regent Momo Yaoyorozu had newly come to power, only to meet a coup from a faction of detractors, attempting to install would-be Prince Shigaraki in her place. The capital had been under siege for nearly a year, before a group of the princess’s allies had helped defeat him–and the princess had spent the next few years consolidating her power, flushing out Shigaraki’s remaining supporters.

It was rude to compare marriage-minded mothers to the like of Shigaraki’s forces.

And yet also perhaps not entirely inaccurate.

“May you meet similar victory on this battlefield,” you told the man.

A clock chimed in the corner of the library, startling you. The remaining lemonade sloshed in your glass.

You sighed, listening to the clock strike eleven. You’d have to reunite with Caroline and Mrs. Utsushimi soon, lest they come looking for you and discover you tucked away in this den of iniquity with a strange man.

“Speaking of battles, I believe it’s time for me to rejoin this one,” you said, getting back to your feet. Standing this close to him, you realized the man was rather tall, and he smelled horribly good–like crushed pine, and the powdery starch that had probably gone into his collar points.

As you made your way around him, he offered his hand, surprising you.

“It was good to meet you, Miss Utsushimi,” he said, the use of Camie’s last name startling you a little. Right, you were supposed to be impersonating a member of the ton. You’d spoken perhaps a little too freely in the dark of this secluded room.

“You as well, sir–lord—?” you said, placing your hand in his, realizing he’d never told you his name.

He raised your hand, pressing his mouth to the back of your hand in a proper greeting. You flushed nervously, the heat of his mouth searing through the fabric of your glove

“Shouto Todoroki,” he said.

Your hand froze in his, your heated blood suddenly icing over.

Oh sweet gods above, you knew that name.

The Utsushimis, as any group of women on the marriage market did, gossipped endlessly about suitable members of the ton. You knew a little about most of the available gentlemen, knew who would be an acceptable catch, who would be an excellent catch, and who would be the catch of a lifetime.

Shouto Todoroki—His Grace Shouto Todoroki, that was—was the catch of any lifetime. He was a duke, about your age, who’d grown up in the very company of Princess Yaoyorozu herself. He was rumored to have fought for her in the very War for All you’d been jesting about, and he was also rumored to be the only suitor being seriously considered for her hand, when she finally deigned to marry.

There was almost no more powerful man in all the country, and you’d flung apricot cakes at him!

You grasped the wall, suddenly feeling woozy.

Lord Shouto made a noise of concern, and the fingers around yours tightened.

“Are you well?” he asked.

You quickly steadied yourself, tugging your hand out of his.

“I–yes,” you said hastily, cringing at how strangled the words had come out. “I really must go, my lord.”

With that, you flung yourself towards the door, tearing it open as though the devil himself were behind you. You winced as the light of hundreds of candles seared your retinas.

You couldn’t help but take a quick glance back at Lord Shouto, which turned out to be the worst mistake of your life. In the candlelight from the door, all his features were suddenly thrown into clarity–and he was the most horribly beautiful man you had ever seen.

He was tall and packed with lean muscle, and had a face like a Greek sculpture—the kind the very Ancient Greeks you were so beginning to loathe would have carved. His eyes were bright and mismatched as you’d thought, his mouth soft and sensuous, and his collar points framed a strong, handsome jaw.

You barely allowed yourself enough time to take in his distinct mop of two-toned hair, before you bit out something strangled and fled, back into the ballroom.

Back to safety.

It was unbelievable luck that no one seemed any the wiser to your escapade as you returned, your nearly-empty glass of lemonade providing your excuse. You slotted yourself in between Caroline and Mrs. Utsushimi and returned to fielding invasive questions, trying to calm your nerves.

You resolved to put all of this behind you, and stay in line for the rest of the season, lest you run a risk like this one again.

You would be good, and you would keep Camie and her family’s reputation clear.

And yet for the rest of the night, you couldn’t help that feeling that a pair of eyes was watching you. And you hoped desperately that you hadn’t already ruined things.

#todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki x you #shouto todoroki x reader #shoto x you

[jester-lover]

She's in Parties

Twisted wonderland characters with a goth girlfriend feat. Trey, Jade, Floyd, Jamil, Rook, Silver, and Lilia cw- fem! reader, confident! reader, fluff, goth author freaks out about goth music, very long post

I notice how often the fanfic community focuses in on the clothing/makeup relating to the goth subculture, and while there will be a lot of that in this post, I want more people to experience the music. I left a goth song recommendation I think fits each character, from gothic metal to softer new wave. No gatekeeping here.

Trey

Trey is definitely not knowledgeable about the goth scene, he listened to a few songs here and there, and probably had a minor emo phase in middle school

He does however enjoy the slower more melancholic goth songs you play for him, or more sweet/romantic songs

Trey is usually the one keeping law and order in his dorm, so sometimes he likes having calming activities like baking and picnics to get away from it all

Having a goth girlfriend, someone who can really understand his perceivable struggle of mundanity, and bring a spark of excitement to his life is a gift he will always appreciate

He would love body mods, like tattoos, piercings etc

Tattoos especially if they have meanings behind them, he thinks they’re like stories on your skin

This man has no clothing comprehension (fedora), he straight up doesn't care what you're wearing 

He does however, really like when you wear funky jewelry, and leather jackets

Something is just so sweet about your caring attitude towards him, contrasting with your look that tends to terrify people

We would make you bat shaped cookies 100%

A song that you and Trey listen to together would be Ecstasy by Strawberry Switchblade

“Maybe if you pair the red leather pants with the fishnet top, it’ll match your makeup.”

Jade 

You might look like the dark, mysterious part of your relationship, but we all know that title goes to Jade

This boy is, unnerving to say the least, but you’ve always been a fan of strange things

He absolutely adores your aesthetic, even if you tone it down for school, or wear trad goth makeup every day, he’s obsessed

I feel like jade would enjoy gothic films, like The Crow, or Nosferatu, along with a long list of horror movies

“The movie itself is a bit overwhelming, but the plot is so delightfully dark, I think you would really like it dear.”

He probably does listen to goth music, more post punk and new wave type stuff, like The Cure, so a part of your music is not new to him

But he’d love to be introduced to more vibrant gothic music (it makes for a good hiking playlist)

He loves all types of gothic makeup on you, but especially enjoys 90s’ goth makeup, with tight black eyeliner, and burgundy red lipstick

Something about the simplicity of the style, along with the somber tone of the music you listen to makes Jade’s heart flutter (if he has one)

A song that would remind you of Jade is Heaven or Las Vegas by the Cocteau Twins

Floyd

He’s a lil creepy guy himself! You guys are two peas in a pod! 

Floyd loves having a goth girlfriend, the fashion, makeup, music and general aesthetic are right up his alley

We know our boy loves shoes, so he would absolutely adore it if you had a funky shoe collection, from tall and heavy platforms, to cute yet sharp winklepickers 

He would love loud gothic rock, extreme music hypes him up before a big game

I read in floyd’s wiki that he dislikes restraint, so the loudness and brashness of gothic rock would be something he really enjoys

In terms of fashion, Floyd is one of the few boys who would definitely allow you to give him a makeover 

Tease and gel his hair, layers of silk over fishnet and leather, you can really go all out

Be careful though, because he’s also the type to come running for hugs and kisses right when you've finished getting ready

Floyd thinks that the best looks on you are the ones that require layering, he loves seeing you look like a shapeless bat creature

His most favorite part about having you as a girlfriend is how easy it is to find you in the stands during a basketball game

Floyd definitely gives you some freaky fish nickname, like ‘anglerfish’ just because he’s a meanie like that

"Anglerfish! I found a sweater you'll love, Its got bats all over it!"

A song that Floyd would like is Head like a Hole by Nine Inch Nails

Jamil 

Jamil caught your eye due partially to his dancing skills, and his hair

I mean look at it, the boy is a walking shampoo commercial 

He really is clueless about goth music, you really have to keep him on the shallow side before throwing him off the deep end

“So, you like music about coffins and funerals then?”

He really does enjoy your aesthetic quite a bit, every time you come home from a day of shopping (at a thrift store most likely) he encourages you to give him a little fashion show

Kalim might have been mildly terrified the first time he saw you, but then he realized how happy you made Jamil, and accepted you!

Pre-overblot, he enjoys more angry, loud gothic rock, but after, he asks you to introduce him to some softer goth music

Jamil has always dreamed of giving his significant other a life full of joy, so sometimes he likes fantasizing about a future with you, and dancing to romantic goth songs

A song you and Jamil dance to is Heaven by The Cure 

Rook 

Ooolala a mysterious figure shrouded in darkness? He is intrigued

You definitely notice him, and you definitely ask him out first

(he swoons)

Rook is a perplexing character, he never really shows any interest towards your music, before suddenly turning up with a full playlist

Turns out, he’s been keeping track of the songs you mention in passing conversation and blast in your room

He loves you in long flowy black skirts, with full trad makeup, he thinks you look so beautiful

“Mon petit ange, you look absolutely breathtaking, villainous beauty like yours is dangerous!”

Rook is most definitely the of boy who goes out in the middle of the night with you for an impromptu photoshoot, or walk through a graveyard

You two have a very ‘Morticia and Gomez’ type relationship, considering just how obsessed this man is with you

He writes poems about you

Rook probably also adores romantic goth songs, especially the weirder ones

A song you two would listen to together is Temple of Love by the Sisters of Mercy

Lilia 

Scene bf x goth gf

Look at him and tell me he doesn’t avidly listen to My Chem? You can’t.

You two are two birds of a feather! (a crow’s most likely)

He absolutely adores your sense of fashion, and how it aligns with his own, just be aware that if you have any cool hoodies/jackets, he will steal them from you

Speaking of clothes, he loves any of them on you, especially bat-like clothes, like black shirts/dresses with long flowy sleeves and flared pants

“Hehehe we match in both clothing and personality!”

He also listens to goth music, and considering he’s ancient, he’s probably experienced some classic bands in concert 

Would love to share his most macabre stories with you, if you want to hear him ramble

Lilia is a fan of all genres of gothic music, especially the funky kinds of music often blasted in goth clubs

You two are very like minded individuals and that keeps you both very happy

A song you and Lilia would dance to is What’s Inside a Girl? By The Cramps

Silver 

He’s so soft for you

You just cause fear wherever you go, and Silver’s just there, softly smiling

He doesn't listen to loud music unless he’s trying his best to stay awake, but when he is trying to sleep, he prefers the more mellow stuff

“Do you have any really calming music I can listen to?”

He cares so very little about what you wear, but he likes you in velvet so you're soft to cuddle with

Silver cares a lot about you, so if he sees people making bad remarks about you, he’ll confront them, he’s scary when he’s mad

He enjoys watching gothic movies with you too, but might fall asleep mid movie

Since the Diasomnia uniform is all black, he gets a little kick out of matching with you

A song Silver and you listen to as you lounge about is Lorelai by the Cocteau Twins

Bonus! More alternative songs that remind me of the boys :)

Trey-  Linger by The Cranberries

Jade-  Nocturnal Me by Echo and the Bunnymen

Floyd-  Nasty by The Damned

Jamil- Kiss me, Son of God by They might be Giants

Rook- Gentlemen take Polaroids by Japan

Lilia-  Time by David Bowie

Silver- Sacrifice by London after Midnight

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x female reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #trey clover x reader #trey clover #jade leech x reader #jade leech #floyd leech #floyd leech x reader #jamil viper #jamil viper x reader #rook hunt #rook hunt x reader #lilia vanrouge #lilia vanrouge x reader #silver x reader #silver #silver twisted wonderland #goth reader #headcanons #goth music #twst headcanons #fluff #twst vice dorm leaders #twst vice dorm leaders x reader #reader insert #female reader #fanfic #fanfiction

[venusandsaturnsrings]

Venus my dear have you ever thought about fox hybrid childe? Like the fluffy ears in that mess of orange hair and his already sluttaly low rise pants hanging just under the base of his tail? With both a happy trail that runs down towards his cock and one that runs a short length down his back towards the mess of fluffy orange and white that is his tail? Like a full on feral hybrid, and why not add that good ol' knot on his cock too just cause I can!

Now think about fox boy childe and him bring so eager to have you swallow his cum that he knows your mouth, knowing full well you won't be able to take it and will be stuck there, nose pressed into the wet mess of his happy trail, eyes rolling back and breathing shallow as he watches how you struggle to swallow his load.

Or maybe....

Childe smirking down at you as he pulls you forward and make sure you feel how he swells behind your teeth before he comes, fingers tangled in your hair as he sighs, only now that you're truly stuck on his cock dose he release your hair, chuckling, as he watches you and your absolutely wrecked appearance, eyes rolled back in your head, hands falling from his hips, where your pathetic attempts to push him away had failed, just watches how your arms drop limply next to your sides.

Your blurry vision just starting to fade in and out, and the last thing you are actually aware of before you pass out, is one of his hands petting you gently and the other wiping the tears from your cheek as he coos down at you, ears flicking and twitching as another pulse of his cum floods down your throat.

Just think about fox hybrid childe...

ermm… me vs hoardin all of cors asks!! for me n me only!! but… i suppose i can share… cor i luv u i’m givin u a kiss rn mwah mwah!! U^ェ^U

fox childe thoughts!! nothin too fancy just the fuzzy lil guy bein evil wif his knot!! point form headcannon format :3

fuzzy fella!! he’s used to running around in without having to worry about how he’s dressed. hybrids like himself get certain privileges like less people caring about how they present. sure, it’s based in the idea that hybrids are ‘less than human’ but Ajax is like most in which he’ll use it to his advantage. he love love love loves walking around shirtless.

he’s about 6’2, bulky, and muscly. being part animal means he has to stay well in shape for hunting and the many other physical activities that are required of him. his tummy does have some chub!! the tummy chub is good for keeping him warm and healthy through the winter months. also most certainly a hairy boy; a happy trail no one can match.

loves having his tails and ears washed!! please do wash, condition, dry, and brush them he will make a little purring type noise like a motor. he tends to be a bit messy with everything he does, eating, playing, and existing, but a clean and fluffy fox is a happy fox!!

when it comes to his… more primal urges… he’s well aware that full humans aren’t built to accommodate certain characteristics. that won’t stop him from forcing it, though. he’s born to express his needs a certain way and will make it happen even if it hurts you both.

Ajax is already most certainly well endowed. about 8” hard with an upwards curve. he’s got a bit of thickness too but what’s really thick is his knot. his cock is great for splitting you open and pumping you full and it’s also delightfully heavy in your mouth.

he is an unashamed face-fucker. this does loop back into his base instincts of ‘cock in warm wet hole? need to go hard and fast to breed mate,’ though it’s also a personal preference of his. Ajax could hold back if he really wanted to but… why would he when you look so pretty covered in tears with your face turning blue?

lover of messy head. with the way he’ll be bucking into your throat, you’ll already be producing plenty of saliva and tears to moisten his dick but it’s not uncommon for him to spit down onto it as well to make it extra filthy. all fluids will end up being swallowed by you, and maybe him, in the end.

him… knotting your mouth… i am admittedly a bit hot and bothered by this… think of it sort of like sticking a lightbulb in your mouth. it can go in find but, you have to break it to get it out. Ajax’s knot will go in your mouth fine but, you’ll have to wait for it to go down to get it out.

he gets off on seeing you sputter around the massive load of seed lodged in your throat that you can’t properly swallow. he’ll most definitely twitch and shoot out a couple more little bursts while watching you struggle and whimper over everything shoved in your face.

Ajax won’t be completely cruel about it, you’ll still get plenty of praise and pats to your head!! it’s almost enough for you to ignore how he sets his hips fully to your face and covers your nose with his fingers. truly, he does want you to pass out.

he just thinks it’s cute when your cunts been fucked so nice that you end up knocked out so he’s gotta figure out some way to make that happen when it’s your throat he’s fucking!! doesn’t mind forcing it at all.

you’ll wake up clean and with a big fox man curled around you. he’s very easy to forgive when he licks your face as kisses and wags his tail; his own set of charms.

foxboy childe 100/10 a very wonderful lil guy!! mean, sure, but very loving… and needy… and aggressive… and protective…

i wish i had better thots tew add but… cor u have done my brain in once again!! i jus wan my lil fox guy :((

#cw: knotting #cor my beloved <3 #hehehe he’s so silly!! #i wamnt to munch him liek a candy!! #he is so cotton candy ik it!! #:3 liddol guy #foxboy childe #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut

[lailoken]

What are your favorite pieces of media that you think accurately represent magic and spirit work? Movies, books, even music..

This is an interesting question, but one that requires a lot of thought, as I have read and watched an inordinate amount of books and movies. Plus, even really good fiction with pagan themes that I've read/watched is generally inaccurate in most ways, with some realistic aspects of magic woven in here and there. Some of my very favorite media relating to the subject can't really be included, simply because of how inaccurate it is overall, but there are a few that have caught my notice.

I'm sure I'll end up missing ones, which bugs me, but I'll do my best to recount some examples that I can think of:

The Love Witch (2016) is a movie that I think presents a strikingly realistic portrayal of what magic can look like. It manages to show some of the ways one might use magic to great effect, without actually skewing into fantasy at all. Clearly, the magic shown isn't going to line up with every paradigm, and its not exactly a heady or spirit-based story, but I think it's a very real look at how ritual and magic is/can be approached by many folks in the modern day.

The Witch (2015) is, above all else, a great slow-burn horror film and an excellent period-piece. However, it also portrays quite an accurate conception of folkloric beliefs about Witchcraft in the 17th century, which inexorably inform the realities of modern Witchcraft traditions. It does just barely skew into fantasy horror, but the actual folkloric information being presented is quite sound.

A Dark Song (2016) is a film that portrays ceremonial magic realistically in many ways. Ultimately, it is still a supernatural horror film, but the bulk of the magic in the movie is based directly on the Abramelin Operation, which was interesting to see. A lot of the ways that the magic "takes shape" in the film feels real enough to me, too (though it certainly takes it to extremes at points, as horror movies are wont to do).

We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson is a horror novel I much enjoyed when I read it a coulple years ago, but I also remember that it happens to contain small, but meaningful, instances of sympathetic magic within the story that I appreciated as a practitioner looking in. This one has been made into a movie as well.

Cunning Folk by Adam Nevill is one of the more realistic looks at magic—including the uncanny side of it—that I've come across. It's still definitely a horror story, first and foremost, but there's an oomph to the ritual and magic described therein that a lot of other similar fiction lacks—even when the ritual act being described isn't necessarily accurate in terms of historicality or my personal experience of the Craft.

The White People by Arthur Machen is a Welsh short horror story from the turn of the century, which I think is worth including here. There are elements and aspects of the story that feel surprisingly real in terms of Gloaming initiation and the Gloaming Spirits—though, of course, it takes creative liberties informed by the paranormal beliefs and trends of the time (1890s).

The Craft (1996) is a movie that I'm sure a lot of pagans have of nostalgia for in one way or another, myself included. I struggled with whether this movie should be here or in the Honorable Mention section, but I included it here in the end because a lot of the ways magic and ritual are presented in the film are accurate enough. I also think it did a fairly good job of capturing how it can feel to discover, revel in, and then become overwhelmed by magic. However, since it is a supernatural horror film, a lot of magic shown is portrayed more fantastically than the real thing, and there are aspects of the magic (rituals, entities, etc.) made up entirely for the sake of the story.

As implied above, there are also some pieces that, while largely inaccurate or too far into the realm of fantasy, still manage to succesfully capture some essence of realistic feeling magic in them. I will list those here as Honorable Mentions:

Practical Magic (1998) is another movie that I'm sure a lot of Pagans have nostalgia for in some way or another. I won't claim that it's a genuinely "accurate" representation of magic—and it certainly strays into outright fantasy at times—but there are little things throughout the movie that managed to ring a bell for me, as someone who grew up with magic in my family. I know this was originally a book, but I actually haven't read that as of yet, so I can't speak to it.

Pan's Labyrinth (2006) is a movie is squarely in the fantasy-horror genre to me, but even still, I include it here as an honorable mention because a lot of the lore depicted is drawn from real lore, and the overall ambience it manged to evoke strongly reminds me of some of my own experiences with chthonic journeying.

The Good Witch franchise isn't one I have ever actually watched any part of before, but I include it here because, oddly enough, multiple practitioners have mentioned to me that they think the magic is surprisingly realistic for a Hallmark series. As I understand it, the main character is a sort of local Wise Woman who helps the folk in her little town using things like folk-knowledge, remarkable intuition, and an uncanny ability to seemingly sway people and circumstances. Since I haven't seen it myself, my take on it may be somewhat lacking, (which is why I listed it as an honorable mention), but based on the description, it actually sounds like it may be one of the more realistic interpretations of magic on this list.

I know this is a strange addition, as it's not exactly magic, per se, but much of how Stephen King writes about psychic abilities like clairvoyance and healing throughout his works manages to touch on something all too familiar for me. I think, sometimes, that he may have known someone with the Sight and/or the Touch in his real life, as it comes up a lot in one shape or another in his writing.

As I said, I'm sure there's stuff I'm missing, but this at least a serviceable overview. I encourage others to share any other media that they think deserves a mention, too!

#witchcraft #magic #media #the love witch #the Witch #a dark song #we have always lived in the castle #cunning folk #adam nevill #the white people #the craft #practical magic #pan's labyrinth #the good witch #vistorille #ask

[prof-peach]

Hey Prof! Do you think it’s possible that Toxicroak and that extinct Sneasler evolution fill a similar niche? I mean: They’re both Poison/Fighting Types and they both have those prominent poison blades

Hm. I feel like its a case of Convergent evolution more than them filling the same niche with regards to the body shapes. Some methods of applying poison to foe or navigating require that kind of shape and style of body. The adaptions arent far off a Grafaiai (a single more poisonous finger shaped adaption) Gallade (with its boney "blades"), or even sandslash (long talons like Sneasler), it's a common evolutionary adaption to climb, tear, dig, pierce or otherwise utilise attacks in their suited environment. While ones clawed with hooks, the other is a boney straight(ish) protrusion, they differ wildly in how theyre used day to day, attacks out of the question they don't perform the same.

Both come from wildly different biomes too with ho shared genetic heritage. Mountain climbing though done by a few very large, select subspecies of Toxicroak, is not something they handle by climbing like Sneasler did. Theyre jumpers, at best theyll amble along where they can and make a leap for the next ledge. Swampy biomes tended to be too warm for Sneasler too, they only really seemed to migrate down for short periords of time to hunt, before returning to the saftey of the mountains and their dens. They havent had to adapt to the same climates, prey, predators, or environments.

Kind of like saying all normal/flying types fit the same brief, but y'know, they dont haha. A beak shape in a pidgey VS the beak shape of a hoothoot arent too far apart at a glance, but their small differences make them unique and specialised for their habitats and hunting styles.

We're also not even looking at the wild difference in autonomy in terms of Toxicroak being cold blooded, and Sneasler being warm blooded, meaning their bodies run completly differently. I dunno, i'm struggling to see the true link from a biology standpoint, but thats just me.

#thats my 2cents #but y'all can make your own minds up #pokemon #peach talks #prof.peach

[justmystyles]

hi there !! so i have a bit of a heavy request for you.

could you maybe do a hurt / comfort with harry where he finds out you’ve self-harmed and he comforts the SHIT out of you?

been going thru a bit of a rough patch lately , i hope this isn’t too much :)

have a good day lovely!!

Scars

check out my other works!

pairing: Harry Styles x plus size reader

word count: 2.2k

summary: can harry be the comfort you need after falling back into old habits?

warnings: self-harm

a/n: so i woke up to this ask first thing this morning, i usually stay away from heavy topics like this, just because they require a special amount of care, and i don't know that i can do them the justice they deserve. but i was so moved that this lovely anonymous user asked me to help them through thier rough patch that i got to work on it immediately.

anon - thank you so much for asking me to help you through this time. i know we don't know each other, but if you ever need someone to talk to, i am right here. and that goes for any of you. i know i'm new here, and just a faceless username on a website, but i am always happy to be a listening ear, or do whatever i can to be there for you.

tags: @allthelovehes @ameerakane20 @ash-craze @bethanysnow @blue-ballad @brightlightsinlife @creativelyeva @cute-as-ducks420 @fanficismydrug @gem1712 @golden-hoax @gothmingguk @groovychaosavenue @hillzrry @iceebabies @indierockgirrl @jerseygirlinca @jng4kook @jooniesbabie @kaverichauhan @lexiecamposv @n0vaj3an @ravenclawdirectioner @stylesfeverr @superchrystaldrug @tenaciousperfectionunknown @tiaamberxx @thechaoticjoy @theekyliepage @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @youknowwhaaat

You stood in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at your bare torso as you ran your fingers along the fresh marks. It had been years since you’d found yourself in this place, and you were silently cursing yourself for getting here as the tears streamed down your face. 

The first time this happened, it was a complete accident. You had been so frustrated at something or other, you honestly couldn’t remember the initial catalyst at this point, that you had clenched tiny crescent shapes into your palms. As you watched the blood emerge, you felt a sense of calm. At least this pain was tangible. If you were going to be hurt, you wanted to at least see it. So that’s what you did. 

For a long time after that, when life became too much, when you were feeling alone or misunderstood, you would mark yourself. You always knew it wasn’t the best way to handle things, but it gave you a sense of control you didn’t otherwise feel you had in your life. 

You were usually pretty good at concealing the scars. Tucking them away the same way you did with your emotional struggles. Until you were asked to be a bridesmaid in your cousin’s wedding. The dress was gorgeous, your cousin knew about your body image struggles, and took the utmost care to find something that would be flattering for you, something you would be comfortable in. And then you tried it on, unprepared for the slit that went up to your mid-thigh, showing off your collection of scars. Nobody said anything at the fitting, even though they all noticed. A few days later, your cousin spoke to you privately, and you broke down, telling her everything. She was incredibly supportive, and worked with you to make sure you got the help you needed. 

But here you were, years later, feeling like that sad, scared girl from all those years ago. You weren’t sure how it escalated to this point, you had been through a rough couple of weeks at work. Late hours, nonstop meetings, more criticism than praise. Your family were all so busy with their own lives that you barely had the chance to speak with them. And then there was the one person that was supposed to be your rock, Harry. 

Harry was incredible. You had never felt so loved, so cared for. You still remember the first time you showed him your scars, and told him about your past. He listened with rapt attention, tears pooling in his eyes. When you finished, all he could do was place soft kisses to each of your scars, muttering apology after apology and promising to protect you from ever feeling that much pain again. 

But he was on the other side of the world right now, he couldn’t be there for you in the way you needed. Between the time difference and your busy schedules, you felt like the two of you were merely pen pals. It wasn’t his fault, this was his job. You knew that, it was what you had signed on for when you started seeing him. That didn’t make you feel any less alone though.  

You were startled out of your thoughts by your doorbell. You furrowed your brow as you checked the time on your phone. Who would be bothering you this late? You splashed some water on your face to hide your tears, and grabbed your shirt off the towel rack, throwing it on before moving to the door. 

You left the chain on the door, opening it a sliver to see who was on the other side. The moment you were met with Harry’s sparkling green eyes and wide smile, the tears made their return. You stood in silence, the door partially opened as your brain tried to process that he was here, standing at your door. 

“I think I’ve successfully proven I’m not a nefarious stranger, think you could let me in now?” He joked. 

You closed the door just long enough to remove the chain before opening it wide, sniffing and wiping your eyes as you took him in, really took him in. Before you could react, he had charged over the threshold, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face in your neck. “I missed you, angel.” He murmured against your skin as his lips left soft kisses against you. 

“I missed you too,” you say as you pull back. He looks at your tear stained face, bringing his hand up to wipe the wetness away. “But what? Why? How?” You’re at a complete loss, he wasn't supposed to be back for another week. 

Harry chuckled at your flustered state, brushing a stray hair behind your ear. “I was able to get things wrapped up early, so I’m here to surprise you.” 

After a few more hugs and whispered I missed yous, the two of you got settled on the couch, turning on the television for background noise as you caught each other up on the past few weeks. 

Once he had gushed about the projects he had been working on, and you had shared some minor details about your world, you got settled in his arms and the two of you started watching television, just enjoying the feeling of being with each other again. 

As the evening went on, Harry’s hand absentmindedly traveled under your t-shirt, stroking the skin on your hip before moving around and running up your stomach. You were half asleep, the comfort of being in his arms making you forget your actions from earlier in the day, so you didn’t register what was happening until he softly said your name in a questioning tone. You hummed in response. 

“What happened here?” He stroked over the marks once more. 

Your eyes went wide and you sat up, pulling your shirt down to ensure he couldn’t see anything. “Nothing.” 

“Y/N,” Harry said in a gentle warning tone. He reached for the hem of your shirt, but you scooted away from him on the couch. “Please?” His tone was less of a warning and more of a plea this time. 

You took a deep breath and lifted your shirt, holding the hem just below your bra line. Harry’s eyes went wide at the sight, running a finger down your stomach as tears immediately began to pool in his eyes. “Y/N, these are fresh.”

You open your mouth to respond, but all that comes out is a guttural sob. All of the pain, loneliness, everything from the past few weeks being released at once. Harry is on you in an instant, wrapping you in his arms allowing you to cry against his chest as he strokes your hair and holds you for as long as you need. You both know this is something you will need to discuss, but you’re also in no state to have that conversation right now. 

“Shhh,” Harry coos. “It’s alright baby, I’m right here. Let it all out.” He holds you tighter, wanting to make sure you knew he was there, and he wasn’t going anywhere. His own tears begin to fall as he continues to listen to your wails, and feel your body shake against his. 

The only words spoken for the remainder of the night are Harry’s assurances to you that he’s there, and that he’s got you. Eventually, the two of you fall asleep in each other’s arms on the couch. 

The next morning, you stretch your body as your hand comes to your eye, wiping the sleep away. You can feel that your face is still puffy from your tears, your head pounding. You look around and see that you’re alone. You stand from the couch and head out in search of Harry. You immediately hear the sizzle of a frying pan and make your way into the kitchen to see Harry’s back to you as he stands over the stove. 

“Harry?” Your voice is raspy and low. 

He turns immediately, greeting you with a sad smile as he takes you in. “Hey baby.” He steps up to you, placing a gentle kiss on your lips before bringing his hand up, brushing your cheek with the backs of his fingers. “Go sit at the table, alright? Breakfast is almost ready.” 

You nod and take your seat, watching as Harry disperses the scrambled eggs from the frying pan to two plates that are already stacked high with pancakes. He brings them over, placing one in front of you, and the other at the setting beside you. He then goes to the refrigerator, pulling out a bowl of fresh fruit, putting it between the two of you. 

“Juice?” He asks, wanting to make sure you have everything you need before he sits down. 

“Um… water please?” He nods, kissing the top of your head before going back to the refrigerator and getting you a glass of water. 

When he returns, he takes his seat beside you and the two of you eat in silence, Harry occasionally reaching over to squeeze your thigh gently. His way of reminding you that he is there. You know a conversation is coming, but you don’t dare speak first, hoping to put it off for as long as possible. 

Once you have finished eating, Harry clears the plates, putting them in the sink for later. He comes back to your side, taking your hand as he sits. “Baby,” he says softly, searching your eyes. “What happened?” You shake your head, dropping your gaze to the floor, he immediately slides his finger under your chin, bringing your eyes to his. “Talk to me. Please.”

You feel a lump in your throat when you hear the desperation in his voice. “I’m sorry.” You choke out. 

“Hey hey hey,” he moves his hand from under your chin to cupping your cheek. “Don’t be sorry, you have nothing to apologize for. I just want to help you. But I can’t help if you don’t talk to me.” 

You close your eyes, leaning into his touch and take a deep breath. The warmth of his hands on yours gives you the push you need to start. You tell him everything, all the things that have gone wrong over the last few weeks. The overwhelming feelings of hurt, loneliness, inadequacy. It feels so good to get it off your chest. You look at Harry as you speak, and you see no judgment in his expression, you know that he’s taking in everything you’re saying, and that his brain is working overtime to figure out how he can fix it, how he can make everything better.  

Once he’s sure you’re finished, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his lap placing soft kisses along your jaw. “Baby, I wish you had told me. No good can come from keeping this all to yourself.” 

“You were busy. I didn’t want you to worry about me.” You wrap your arms around him, burying your face into his neck.

He tilts his head, pressing a kiss against your temple. “Angel, no matter what I’m doing I am never too busy for you. I want to be here for you for everything, the good and the bad. We’re a team, right?” He feels you nod against his shoulder, he places his hands on the sides of your neck, pulling your face back to look at him. “I need to hear you tell me, baby.”

“We’re a team.” You say softly. 

“That’s right,” he brings your face to his, kissing you softly on the lips before kissing away the tears that had fallen. “One of the things I love most about us, about you, is that I know that no matter what is happening I have you. I can run anything by you at any time. Right?” You nod in agreement. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if everything was one sided like that? I came to you with my stuff, and you just took it on while also managing your own, all by yourself.” 

“I don’t want to be a burden on you.”

“Y/N Y/L/N, you are anything but a burden. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me.” He assures you confidently. “Just you saying that proves how selfless and giving you are. But in order to take care of me, and everyone else who loves you, you need to properly take care of yourself.” 

You nod in understanding. “Thank you.”

“No my love, thank you.” He said with a soft smile. “Thank you for trusting me with your heart. I promise you, no matter where I am or what I’m doing, if you pick up that phone and tell me that you need me, I am going to do everything in my power to give you whatever you need. Okay?” 

“Okay.” 

He pulls your face to his, kissing you deeply. Enough to feel all of the love that he has for you. He doesn’t just want to tell you how much you mean to him, he wants to show you. When he finally pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours, brushing your cheek with his thumb. “Do you want me to run you a bath? I think you could use some relaxation.” 

“Will you stay with me?” 

“Of course, my love. There’s nowhere I’d rather be.” 

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x plus size reader #harry styles headcanon #harry styles angst #harry's house #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry edward styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles blurb #harry styles fic

[inaconstantstateofchange]

Raphael/Haarlep | there is wise valour (and there is recklessness)

A/N: 18+ | a pre-canon exploration of the possible origin of Raphael's Ascended Fiend form, and the begrudging rapport between him and Haarlep.

Words: 3.4k

Read it on AO3

Raphael stalks through the halls of his House – nothing so grandiose as to deserve the epithet, yet, but he is prepared to impress his will upon the universe until it is – cringing imps scattering into the shadows as they avoid his fearsome tread. A telltale haze shimmers at the edge of his vision, overwriting the dull stonework with rippling red. The door to his personal suite looms out before him, and he scrabbles at the handle, forcing it open just enough to allow him entry, then spinning to force it closed again with a barely-tempered thud. The resolute click of the arcane locking mechanism grants him some small measure of relief.

His servants, few as they are, know not to disturb him here, so he will have his peace.

This simple and inanely optimistic certainty is broken almost immediately, with the voice of potentially the last being he desires to encounter in this moment: Haarlep, his lord father’s wretched consolation gift.

Oh, he certainly did not deign to express it as such, but the timing made the implication exactly as clear as the Archduke of Cania required. Too slow to profit as he had desired – as he had planned, painstakingly – from the fall of Netheril, and the fatuity of the fool Karsus, the Crown and its fearsome power already swept up and shelved away in the vaults of Mephistar, to be ignored or studied – then ignored again – at his father’s leisure.

“Oh dear, our little lord’s in quite a state today, is he not?” The silken tones of the incubus’s voice might be enticing to another, but they grate against Raphael’s ears like the music of a fingerless bard.

Raphael grits his teeth, refraining from digging his horns into the wood of the door before him by willpower alone. Haarlep, his father had named the wretch, an insipid mirror to reflect his every action back to Mephistar. He could not afford to be known to his father in this state.

A fit of temper was one thing. Hypocritical though he be, Mephistopheles could not deny his blood ran true in such matters. An uncontrollable beast-form, however, one twisted and warped by the broken magics of Netheril? Such knowledge would bring either disdain or interest — and a scrutiny he would not be liable to profit from in either event.

“What are you doing here?” He grinds out, refusing to turn around. Poor form, to leave his back to an enemy, but better the suspicion of weakness than the truth of it, until he can master himself as he ought.

A light, chiming laugh floats through the air like gossamer webs, undulating as the incubus steps closer to him. They run fashionably tapered claws in maddeningly delicate tapping motions down his back, between the base of his wings. He’s certain it is meant to entice, but all it does is make his skin itch and crawl, hungering for slaughter – for satiation – in a ravenous manner he has not felt before.

The desire itself is certainly not new to him, but the drive to follow through, and damn the consequences? That is more of a struggle. He’d thought the beast-form would take a mighty shape, one that would augment his own power and prestige, that he could gloat about to rivals and hold over the heads of his siblings.

Instead, he is left to feel grateful for his position of no note, that he has no true household staff to warn away from loose tongues. Only a few wretched imps, too foolish to put one brick atop another were the plans directly before them, and the incubus, its true thoughts held scrupulously behind dancing eyes. Said incubus’s vexatious tapping continues, clawtips light enough to refrain from marring even a thread of his richly embroidered tunic, but refusing to respond to the intimation of his shifting motions and leave well enough alone.

“Why, I aim only to remind my lord that I am here at his disposal, of course.” The incubus’s tone is conversational, as though they are speaking over a formal luncheon, rather than after they had barged into his own private chambers without so much as a by-your-leave. Raphael’s fingers curl against the door, leaving slight gouges this time.

The incubus is not finished, however, continuing on languidly, “We have had so little opportunity to connect, you and I, since I was first remanded into your… care.” The subtle emphasis put on the last word indicates the incubus’s cognizance that the reality was anything but, and invites him to commiserate with their shared circumstance. Raphael declines. Their situations are nothing alike, and he’ll not be condescended to by this… this… wretch.

At his limit with the damned touching now, Raphael spins away, knocking the incubus’s overreaching arm to the side. “Enough, damn you!” His voice begins as a snarl but he manages to quell it to a hiss. “Your presence is neither desired nor requested, and thus you should be anywhere at all in the estate but my private chambers.” He gestures to the door in a clear dismissal. “You may count yourself fortunate that I have more pressing matters to deal with at the moment than your insolence.”

He knows as soon as the last word leaves his lips that he’s made an error. The incubus’s eyes light up behind the graceful drape of their hair, filled with a dancing glow as its plump lips curl with keen delight. “More pressing than making use of an esteemed gift? The little lord is keeping secrets.” Its tongue flicks out, long and forked, wetting its lower lip with a glistening sheen as it draws, achingly slowly, back in.

Raphael tears his eyes away from the gallingly-enticing gleam, displeased to find that, yet again, his threats are as puffs of air to this detestable creature. He attempts to draw himself up, mantling his wings with oblique menace, and flattens his voice to a firm register. “I have no obligation to keep counsel with you, cur.”

The incubus taps one long, slender finger mockingly against its chin. “Mmmm,” it lets out a long, unnecessarily drawn out hum. “‘Obligation’? Certainly not. I would not dream of prevailing upon the goodwill of your august personage to demand as such.”

It pauses, a glimmer of sweet-edged malice drifting across its face. “However… It might behoove the little lord to indulge an ally, rather than order an adversary.”

The hellfire haze, nearly dissipated while he was not paying attention, blazes back into being around him. The beast howls within, clawing at his bones, desperate to cleave flesh and willing to settle for his own if more suitable sacrifice was not provided. Raphael grinds his teeth against the cry of pain, keeping his voice unaffected even as it feels like speaking through blades of infernal iron.

“You presume much, gift-of-my-father. Perhaps too much. Why should I seek to find an ally in one so markedly bound to higher loyalties?”

The incubus laughs, light and mocking. “Loyalties? What a precious concept. A lord must have strength enough to protect his vassals, in exchange for their loyalty.” Their friendly mien drops entirely, pinning him with a flat, piercing gaze as that damned finger taps, slow and languid, against their chin. “Thus far, I have seen no indication of any such strength from you, little lord.”

At this final expression of disrespect, the delicate webs of Raphael’s remaining self-control fracture and wisp away. A hideous sound of ripping flesh and crackling bone echoes around the room, dissipating against the sound-muffling enchantments etched into the stone. Between one interminable blink and the next, his vision doubles, then trebles, the shifting haze edging out to line the fringes of his new sightlines. He looks to the incubus standing before him in triplicate – a reflection now in truth – with fury the forenote of the increasingly bestial bent to his mind. He loosens his disjointed jaw in anticipation, and awaits the wretch’s usual twist of mockery.

Haarlep stares – up, and up – at the mangled, marvelous creature before them. So this is what their little master has been hiding since his return from the broken remnants of Netheril, bare days after their own arrival. He’d slammed back into the House like a meteor strike, a furious tempest raging throughout its halls ever since. Haarlep’s sole attempt to ingratiate themself had been met with glowering fury followed by curt dismissal, and a silent, fraught détente ever since.

That, of course, simply would not do. Perceived failure at such a level would, sooner or later, make its way back to the lord of Mephistar. And, generous though the terms of his commandment had been, none were that generous.

Haarlep had bedecked themself in their finest things, gauzy drider-silks embellished with blood-pearls and ornate, embroidered sigils, and hied away to the little lord’s personal chambers for one final attempt. Either they’d finally come to some conclusive understanding, or… Well. The consequences for a failed contract with the lord of the Eighth Layer would not be pleasant. Haarlep took pain to bed as a lover as willingly as pleasure, but even their malleable form and aberrant senses had their limits.

And, at first, it had seemed like their cause was just as lost as it had initially appeared. The stubborn little brat, refusing to treat with them as their positions demanded, to engage with the realities they were – the both of them – constrained within. They’d pushed, pressed up close to his body the way they knew he loathed, needling at him with claws and words alike, pricking about for any crack in his obdurate mask.

And then — not a crack, but a shattering entire. Emerging from the stagnant shell of the lordling was birthed a monstrosity, pure and twisted.

An agglomerate skull, eyes glowing baleful and amber from cavernous sockets. Jagged limbs unsuited for movement and coated imperfectly with dappled scale, internal fire licking out from the crevices against undefended flesh, searing and cauterizing in continuous agony. Wings, groomed and genteel mere moments before — now marred with rot and ruin, mantled in tattered shreds held in place by blackened scar tissue.

What a mess. Haarlep could understand why the little master had been so reclusive if this was the shape now lurking within him. His new form’s structure might be passingly compared to that of a cornugon, but only to a witless imbecile. The bone-plate, tarnished and burnt, bore some similarity to the lustrous ossified mail of an osyluth, but lacked entirely their ordered and brutal beauty. In truth… beneath the surface, there was truly nothing of the Hells about this form at all, but rather — something far more Abyssal in origin.

Haarlep smiles, slow and sweet, their long tongue flicking out from their mouth and dragging back the scent of the beast as it returns, a delectable sweet hint of Chaos just discernible below the rest. Their smile grows wider still as they savor it, subtle fangs bared by the action.

“Little master has been quite the naughty boy, hasn’t he? Dabbling with magics too powerful for him, perhaps? Snooping around in pilfered Netherese parlors, grasping at scraps?” They tut chidingly, shaking their head at him.

The beast huffs out a gusting breath, fetid air coursing from its maw, its blackened claws all too obvious as they raise to strike.

Haarlep coos. “How cruel of the little lord to keep this lovely surprise all to himself. Why, we could have been playing together long since.”

Silence, for a moment. Then a reverberating growl shudders from its chest, emerging as a guttural hiss from its frayed vocal cords. With a crack of over-stressed bone, the beast crouches, then springs forward, toppling them both and slamming its forelimbs down on either side of Haarlep’s head. Its bone-jaws open and chitter against one another in accompaniment to its hissing. Hot, silvery liquid drips from the base of its throat, settling in searing pearls on Haarlep’s face before streaking wincingly away.

Haarlep clucks their tongue, reaching out a hand to caress along the roughened bone of the closest skull. “You can certainly take me like this, if you’ve a mind,” they say leadingly, rolling their body languidly upward to brush against the delightful texturing of the beast-form above them. Oh, it has been too long since they’ve dealt with any of Chaos’s get. An admittedly amateur transformation, perhaps, but nothing they cannot endear themself to their little lord by offering some much-needed assistance.

The beast responds with a huff, moving toward their touch for one brief moment, then away again, the creaking of misaligned joint and bone filling the chamber with a grisly cacophony. It seems the little lord isn’t particularly accustomed to his new form’s mind yet, either. That will make some things harder — and others easier.

Haarlep rolls their body up against the beast’s once more, to regain its attention and realign its purpose. Its triune head with trebled skulls, raised to scan the room around them, swings back down to pin him with those flat, glowing eyes, set so far back in their sockets. The vision on this beast-form must be disorienting indeed.

A snarling rumble rises up from the cavernous chamber of the beast’s chest — perhaps a disdain of the presumption, or an unfamiliarity with the sensation in this form. In either case, the little lord is welcome to communicate his desires to Haarlep should he choose. Otherwise, they shall do as a good attendant ought, and attend him.

They undulate again, aiming with particular focus for the most likely location of a hidden pleasure structure, sparing a moment to hope that their rash little lordling had not botched whatever ritual he’d stumbled upon with such talent as to lose that. Haarlep could certainly make an exemplary showing without any such element present – and had upon multiple occasions in the past – but it would certainly help the situation along. After a long moment, they feel an answering pressure coming from the boiling hot area between malformed limbs, and devote particular attention to encouraging it to emerge further.

The beast, plainly feeling the results of their efforts, snarls again, its claws scraping against the stone floor and leaving deep, gouging furrows. Its central skull flashes down and fastens around Haarlep’s throat, just barely stopping before it would cause true harm. They freeze for a moment, elegant neck extended, and luxuriate in the dull prick of those rending fangs — then moan, low and throaty, relaxing into them until the prick becomes true penetration.

The beast huffs, in what resembles nothing so much as sheer bewilderment. Haarlep throws their head back in laughter, relishing the bite of the bone-tooth collar, and the gentle rivulets of blood that begin to seep steadily from the punctures. “No stomach for the devouring, have we? A pity. By all means, then, allow me.”

They slither sinuously free of the beast’s hold, loosened in its surprise, earning more tender tears from the delightful drag of fang on flesh. The beast seems fully lost in its puzzlement now, crouching back on its haunches, its budding member just beginning to poke forth from the sheath at the twisted apex of its hips. Haarlep feels their mouth water, venom pooling slick and sweet, as it emerges in jerking, ungraceful spasms. Their eyes curl up in a true smile.

“Look at you,” they croon. The cockhead is blunt and brutal, with raised ridges at irregular intervals across its surface. The shape of it tapers just under the first bullying bulk of the head, then flares outward again, with diagonal, tiered ridges forming concentric circles underneath it. It looks delectable.

They slide closer on their knees, bowing their head and letting the smooth flood of their hair fall to the side to keep the nape of their neck – and its sluggishly bleeding marks – exposed. The beast observes the motion, skulls twisting to keep them centered in its vision and mantling its tattered wings, but makes no move to dissuade them by force — a clear invitation if Haarlep has ever seen one.

They lean closer, tongue flickering out to wrap around the flat tip and taste. The beast lets out a screeching cry, contorted hips juddering forward and one hand slamming down to tear at the floor. Misshapen then, but no less sensitive for it, it seems. Haarlep retracts their tongue slowly, savoring the taste of ash and burnt sugar. All things taste saccharine to them from contact with their venom, but the overwhelming edge of conflagration on the beast adds an alluring dimension they hunger for more of. And they’ve certainly never been one to deny themself an indulgence.

Prepared this time for the response of the beast – so clearly never touched before in this form – Haarlep wraps their long fingers around it, inanely delighted by the way they nestle into the hollows created by the banding ridges. The size would be difficult to fully encircle for the average mortal, but fits the grasp of Haarlep’s long fingers near-perfectly. The beast gives another rattling cry, starting forward as the stimulation encourages forth one final pulse of the cock from its sheath, a raised nodule at the base of the cock itself tugging free from the lip of the sheath.

Haarlep hums, eyeing the little structure with consideration, then moving their thumb down to caress it with the barest edge of claw. The beast growls, and the blaze of heat about it increases as it curls forward, its skulled head coming to rest in the air just above Haarlep’s upper back. They begin to feel enshrouded in the waves of heat rolling off of the beast, caged between it and caught in the dizzying miasma of Chaos.

They send their tongue out once more, this time holding the beast still by their hand around its cock. Their tongue flickers dexterously in between their fingers and the roughened flesh of the cock itself. The beast pants above them, gusts of air teasing down along their spine. With more of that ash and cinder scent filling their senses, Haarlep widens their mouth and takes the beast’s cock within them, the blunt head rubbing pleasantly up against the back of their throat. Their venom catches and pools in the crevices on the cock’s surface, easing its glide as it enters them. They shift away their fingers bit by bit as they usher the cock into their mouth, adjusting their mouth to its size before removing the last implicit constraint on the movement of the beast.

The head catches against the opening to their throat just as the beast recognizes its freedom, chasing the sensation they’ve granted it with jerking thrusts of its hips. Haarlep angles the flexible muscle of their throat to better receive it, feeling the ridges pressing back against their flesh as the beast bullies its way further into them, utterly uncaring of their own welfare. It is for the best that they’ve been the one to give the little lord’s beast its sorely needed outlet. Any other and the lordling would have more likely awoken to a shattered corpse, with the whole House aware of just how fastidious he is.

Overcome by the sensitivity of its fledgling flesh – and, if Haarlep might be so modest, the experience of their own peerless form – the beast only lasts a few more minutes before its thrusts grow even more frenzied. A sizzling heat permeates Haarlep’s throat as the cock flexes and shudders within it, seeming to grow larger for a few moments as the taste of ash and honey intensifies.

The next moment, the beast is tearing back from them, just barely avoiding slicing itself on their fangs as it stumbles backward, flesh cracking and splitting in a grating inversion of its earlier transformation. Its own form sizzles and steams, a haze in the air around it for a moment before, transmutation complete, their little lord stands before them once more. He looks lost, for a moment, before his scan of the room – now in quite some disarray – comes to a halt with his eyes on Haarlep, still kneeling gracefully with their hair cascading about them. His face twists, too many emotions to quantify spasming across it all at once, before settling on a faint, haughty sneer.

Haarlep licks their lips – and the visible remnants of their activities – slowly, sensuously. “Why, little lord, I do believe you and I have much to discuss.”

#voidling speaks #my writing #my fic #bg3 #bg3 fic #haarlep #bg3 haarlep #raphael #bg3 raphael #raphael x haarlep #ascended fiend raphael #fic

[katiekatdragon27]

More Flatland stuffff~~~

[Cursive transcript: I'm so sorry this is so sudden, but I had to keep my Chosen safe!]

So, uh, the 4th dimension, am I right?????

So, on my last post, people were more interested in A. Tesseract than I thought. I did not expect her to stir so much interest, but here you go lol.

More under the cut lol / lots of notes:

Some basic information on 4th dimensional beings:

They refer to themselves as "hypersolids" and "polytopes". Only Tesseracts prefer a different name than just "hyper(insert shape here)". When talking to other dimensional beings, they call themselves "Spacelanders".

They usually keep their eyes closed, and they do not emote much.

Their bodies naturally morph as they talk. They are also partially transparent, so you can see their inside movements. Not organs or anything, but the next emotions or actions they are going to express. Sort of like key frames or a fade in effect.

They call "Spacelanders" "Heightlanders".

Their civilization is located in space. They are able to breathe through little pockets of air on their rings that recharge when they enter the atmosphere of other plants. (This is why they are spotted relatively frequently)

Buildings are constantly moving spirals. They also fly everywhere, so they require a lot of energy to maintain their health. Luckily, any stars nearby tend to charge them up just fine.

Also, everyone goes by they/them along with another pronoun if they choose. Gender constructs be damned (or certain groups are fighting for that).

There will be more once I think of it, but that's what I have in the world-building department right now.

Some basic information on Angelica "A." Tesseract (she/they):

She tends to say "I'm sorry" after anything they might think could have been of inconvenience or offensive.

They are relatively soft-spoken, but they are incredibly smart compared to her peers.

Her quiet nature causes others to disrespect and step all over her.

She overthinks LITERALLY EVERYTHING. You could tell her something that is even the slightest bit vague and they have the chance of spiraling.

She KNOWS there are more than four dimensions, but they are struggling to prove it with science.

They are much more emotional compared to other hypersolids. They tend to cry easily.

She chose A. Sphere because of his confidence and drive to get his points across. They admire him for that.

Some basic information on A. Sphere in this:

He's much less snarky. His whole vision of the world was destroyed in the blink of an eye, and he's stuck in another world completely unknown to him. He's going though it currently.

He's still blunt about everything. If you suck, he'll tell you. If you are cool, it'll take a little longer, but he'll tell you.

He got his eye busted after the attack on Messiah Inc. When getting removed from "Heightland", his eye got caught in the blow last minute and it got damaged. He can still open it slightly, but he can't see out of it.

He was relatively indifferent to seeing his body transparent. He was more worried about his eye injury over anything else.

At first, he did not like A. Tesseract (cuz kidnapping), but he learns to appreciate the gesture and does his best to help her out.

[Cursive transcript: For now, I'm afraid so... sorry. / I'm so sorry. If I was just a but faster, I could have saved your eye.]

Yeah, their friendship starts out really rough.

A. Sphere adjusted to the environment very poorly at first. He was very standoffish and snappy, but it then soured to just sorta feeling sad all the time. He gets better eventually the more he learns about the world, but it takes a lot of effort out of A. Tesseract to get him there.

I mean, he expected to die, lost his eye, everyone in "Heightland" hates him now, he lost his business and research, and he fails to take the blame for anything for a while. I would also be super pissed and sad.

A. Tesseract was not any better. She feels an incredible amount of guilt for not stepping in in time to prevent A. Sphere's eye damage, and she constantly apologies to him for everything. This sucks for A. Sphere since he finds it super annoying.

[Cursive transcript: N. H.Sphere: You weren't supposed to bring them HERE! / A. Tesseract: I'm sorry, I had to save him- / N. H.Sphere: I should fire you-!]

N. H.Sphere is a mega grouch. He is A. Tesseract's boss who treats her terribly. Discrediting her work, ignoring their research, and just not valuing her opinion cuz women, he is not fun to talk to or just be around in general. No one knows how HR lets him stay in charge, but some theorize that he pays them off or something.

Despite all of the traumatic crap A. Sphere has gone though in this story, he still does not stand for disrespect from anyone. When he learns that A. Tesseract is constantly being pushed around by her bitchy boss, he decides to defend her.

This solidifies their friendship and later science partnership when the story ends. This also makes N. H.Sphere more resentful towards both A. Tesseract an A. Sphere. This leads to A. Tesseract actually getting fired from her job. Thanks A. Sphere.

[Cursive transcript: N. H.Sphere: Why are you so scared? He's fine! / A. Tesseract: It's my un-medicated anxiety!!]

One of the downsides of being in the 4th dimension and living in space is that the gravitational pull is super sporadic with no real patterns. Some areas have super powerful gravity while others have zero. 4th dimension beings have learned to adjust perfectly fine.

The pressure changes and general lack of oxygen negatively impact A. Sphere's body, however, so to help him be okay, he sits in those vacuum boxes that allow for added pressure to be put on him to help even his breathing. He usually isn't put in unless he is fading in and out of consciousness, since he hates the confined space. It freaks out A. Tesseract every time it happens.

Her boss thinks she's stupid for worrying so much and using company tech. A. Tesseract worries more for A. Sphere than keeping her job, so she ignores N. H. Sphere.

[Cursive transcript: Care to see him again?]

Outside of the partial angst and stuff, this dimension is the reason why A. Sphere shows up in A. Square's hallucination.

During A. Square's trauma-induced hallucination, he shows up in the 4th dimension briefly with the Monarch of Pointland. A. Sphere and A. Tesseract take notice, and she offers him the ability to talk to A. Square one last time for closure reasons.

In this version, this scene would be longer, with A. Sphere possibly apologizing for denying the existence of the 4th dimension and not being able to assist A. Square in the way he wanted to. It's more wholesome and conclusive than transactional like in the movie. The other stuff is there too, but having more sentimental moments would be so cool.

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I am very sorry how messy these particular doodles are, I was drawing all these super late at night during my shift, so I was not paying much attention to the flow of the images. When the inspo hits, you don't really realize how incohesive they are until you start photographing the images to post lol

Thank you once again for reading this whole thing, and have a wonderful day :)

#once again i apologize for the terrible camera quality #i really hope this is cohesive enough #i got my siblings to and dad to watch flatland #this would be a win if they didn't fall asleep 🙄 #except for one of them but they thought it was too weird #uncultured #stupid ass au i made b/c i can't cope with my favorite character dying like a normal person #anyways im really starting to enjoy a tesseract and the story she can tell #i don't think anyone has made a character that acknowledges that there are multiple dimensions without experiencing the horrors #so i think im original in that aspect lol #if not please tell me so the two can meet and complain about society and geek out about science or something #flatland #flatland 2007 #flatland the movie #a square #a sphere #a tesseract #flatland oc #flatland fan art #katiekatdragon27

[mdhwrites]

The Grimwalker as a concept was so weird. Mainly that Hunter was all 'ohhhh no we cant tell them im a spooky Grimwalker!' But... why would anyone care? The only reason given is that hes a reincarnation of a guy nobody even knows or cares about. Theres not even like, a spooky myth about Grimwalkers because its got such a vague ruleset and premise. He's barely different from a demon.

That COULD have linked to the demon discrimination plotline youve talked about, but there is none so it cant be that. Which i understand was partially because Dana wanted the gays to just exist, so she scrapped discrimination in general. But, a big part of forming cultures and identity is 'Otherness'. People compare themselves to others and define themselves by how theyre different. So scrapping discrimination ends up making the witchs and demons feel like nothing. They have nothing to compare their identity and culture against because theres just no conflict to spark comparison.

This lack of substance also means the fans don't care about Grimwalkers. See the moring comic where the Grimwalker was turned into ANOTHER way to say 'haha Boscha so cringe amirite? point and laugh because she has nobody who loves her.' even though the grimwalker is to reincarnate the dead.

OH MY GOD I'M SO HAPPY SOMEONE ELSE NOTICED THAT! *SCREAMS BLOODY MURDER* Like I know Mark just writes Boscha how the entire fandom sees her (which hasn't helped me enjoy A Hint of Blue, not that I think it's good regardless) but seriously what the fuck!? Why do that to her except just to be mean!?

*sighs* What were we talking about? OH RIGHT! Grimmwalkers.

So for why Hunter has anxiety, it actually is because TOH is doing a very basic clone/artificial human storyline with Hunter and those arcs are actually a lot more internally motivated than externally motivated. Clone lives a life believing they're their own person, then one day finds out they're not, perceives themselves as less because of this distinction but then in the end decides that regardless of their origin, they are their own person and so throw off their shackles, embrace who they are and become better for it. It has nothing to do with race and while it is baby's first clone story, I also still like it conceptually because, well, there's a reason why it's the default clone story. It especially is good for kid's media because while the clone can struggle with the anxiety of it, their friends never have to actually be bad or discriminatory against them because the point is loving yourself for who you are and not who you were made to be.

But I've talked before about how this basic framework actually has a Catch 22 built into it when it comes to Hunter... Which apparently Tumblr wants to tell me I've never done before. Thanks search function. The short version is that this template requires not only a rejection of what they were made for but for them to become distinctly different, usually opposite, to their purpose/original. For Hunter, he only knows Belos so this takes shape in trying to be the opposite of him. The problem is that the opposite of Belos... Is Caleb. Who Hunter mimics in every action he takes after getting away from Belos. There's literally no way to follow this template without adding complexities like him accepting his true origin and being okay/happy with that, something that was probably unlikely in general but especially wasn't going to happen with the shortening, which I will actually give people for. Because the Grimmwalker twist happens so late, they either had to cut it or had no time to actually do anything with it which like... Why not cut it? You did nothing with it and it actually made sure you didn't have the time to actually have Hunter reject Belos' morality so that his redemption doesn't come across as self serving and for survival more than an actual, you know, change to his beliefs.

As for how interesting Grimmwalkers are... They're just clones. Boilerplate, boring clones. Make a body based on another person, put memories in, BAM! Got yourself a clone. Doesn't get more classic than that. It's hardly even magical honestly besides the components, especially with how it actually doesn't give them magic despite those components, or have weird quirks since they're not actually made of flesh and blood, elements that the fans have had a lot of fun with that the show never does, though admittedly part of that is due to how late it happens. Then again, all magic in TOH is boring so it's not likely they would have anyways. Also, you know, a lot of shows will do a single clone episode and have more fun and magic to it than TOH does with one of their core cast members being one so *shrug*

Now, for the final part, I do want to also touch on the 'other' aspect because while discrimination is one way to do it, you can get this across in other ways. One such way is the core defining trait of the Grimmwalker from a tangible standpoint: He doesn't have magic. In a society that mostly has magic, him not having it is a big deal. It's literally what gives him and Willow their first connection as a couple, as insulting as that scene actually should be to Hunter.

And then Hunter is 'fixed' when he gains his magic. His 'other' status removed because he's a real boy now. *SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGH*

I have so much more I could say about TOH and 'The Other' (made a blog about a lot of it between writing this draft and publish) but I'll leave it at that so it actually stays on topic instead of the half a dozen tangents I've deleted. None of this makes it good by the way and with how TOH tackles most subjects like this, it's incredibly unlikely that more time would have made it better. After all, being a Grimmwalker is only one of like a half dozen TANTALIZING character/arc concepts for Hunter that are never addressed. The fact that he is trained to kill witches and likely has. His relationship with the Isles because he doesn't have inherent magic. The fact that he is filled with such care for the nation and its government that it blocks out all else in his world. How a sheltered child reacts when they suddenly have freedom and are thrust into the wider world. Etc. etc. that are just footnotes to the writers more than anything to actually build a complete arc around or else they wouldn't have just keep adding to the angst bucket without actually resolving any of it.

So of course Grimmwalkers are bland while being a fine to good concept that's then made terrible by narrative implication or neglect. That's EVERYTHING to do with Hunter.

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Sidenote for this one: It is funny that Dana wanted there to be no bigotry in the Isles when her villains entire scheme is through religious persecution. You know, bigotry. Whole other blog I could go into.

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

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#the owl house criticism #toh critical #hunter toh #Grimmwalker #The Owl House #owl house #toh