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atlasofthestaars · 7 months

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Can you write something where the reader is sick, and their love interest Smoke helps take care of them? Thank you!

NOTE: IM SO SORRY HOW LONG THIS TOOK ANON </3 ITS FINALLY HERE

Tried to make this lighthearted and funny!

Sorry this is really short (or short for how long you waited for this) </3 I wanted to finally get this out and I couldn’t think of much to extend this

SICK DAYS [SMOKE X READER]

Colds were perhaps the worst thing ever.

Okay, you were being dramatic. You’d never admit that outloud, and especially in this state, but you were. They definitely weren’t the worst thing ever, but you loathe being sick. It sucked the life out of you, it made you miserable, and everyone wanted to avoid you. Not to mention, even after the worst is over, you’d be left with sniffles and coughs for an unreasonable amount of time.

Why couldn’t being sick just be a one day deal? It was all too easy to get sick anyways, one tiny mistake then you were suddenly down on your luck and getting sick. It didn’t help that you were staying in possibly the worst place right now to deal with a cold. The Lin Kuei temple was not the best place with its freezing temperatures to recover from a cold.

Haha, cold. Cruel irony.

Grumbling, you sighed as you pulled the covers over yourself, curling into a tight ball as you closed your eyes. This way, you’d be warmer. And then maybe, just maybe, you could sleep and wake up and suddenly be better. It was definitely wishful thinking, but it was better than nothing.

Sadly, your plan was thwarted in a matter of minutes.

The door of your room opened, shining the light leaking in from the hallway directly on your face. You flinched at the sudden change in light, a frown tugging harder at your lips. It was as if the elder gods were mocking you. They enjoyed your pain, surely.

You squinted open your eyes, nearly hissing at the light. Your grumpiness was somewhat quelled as you noticed just who was the figure who had decided to disrupt your attempt to hibernate your way into wellness.

Tomas, the light of your life. Not that he knew it, nor did you ever mention it to him.

You blinked, focusing on his form which was being outlined by the light outside. By the elder gods, it was making him look like an angel. Not that you didn’t think he wasn’t an angel already, but now he especially looked like one. Especially when you spotted the things he was carrying in his hands.

Water and soup.

Nevermind, maybe the elder gods were blessing you today. Maybe they pitied your sickly state, so they sent an angel to nurse you back to health. Surely that must be it.

“Are you feeling better?” Tomas asked as he set down the bowl of soup and water on the nightstand. He then knelt next to your bed. You tried to take a sniff of the soup, before remembering sorrowfully that your nostrils were clogged. You mourned the loss of smell, suddenly.

“I think I’m dying.” You croaked out, using your status as a sick person to be even more dramatic than usual. It was a treat to yourself, to help you cope with your status. You groaned as you shifted in bed, wanting the pain of being sick to end already. You glanced at the soup and water, before glancing back at Smoke to see his reaction.

“You wouldn’t be dying if you didn’t go out in the snow like I warned you not to.” Tomas chided you, yet at the same time he had a smile on his face, and a playful note to his voice. You stared at his face, making sure to commit it to memory. It was going to be one of the few things that was going to get you through this sickness.

Or the last thing you remembered before you passed away from this illness like a sickly Victorian child.

“Well I’m not a coward.” You huffed, rolling your eyes as you recalled how you had brazenly rushed out into the snow. You were too overjoyed by the snowfall to bundle up. Plus, you weren’t out there for too long, you assumed nothing was going to happen to you.

Maybe pride was your downfall.

“But you are sick now.” Tomas quipped back, raising his eyebrows to emphasize his point. You grumbled, not thinking of a proper comeback to his statement. You blinked in surprise as you felt his hand brush over your forehead. You were glad your face was already flushed from sickness so your blush didn’t stick out. “Seems you don’t have a fever.”

“Yeah.” You said, stunned for a moment as you recalled his gentle touch as he retracted his hand. You didn’t care how warm your sickness was making you feel, you missed the soft warmth from his hand. You cleared your throat as you glanced at the bowl. “So, what type of soup did you bring?” You asked, all too curious.

You were shocked to hear it was your favorite soup. He had brought you your favorite soup when you were sick to make you feel better. You closed your eyes for a second, to thank the elder gods above that you had met this man.

If it weren’t for your sickness, you’d kiss the man.

That, and well, you were too much of a coward to tell him your feelings.

“Did you hear me?” You were taken out of your stupor, looking at the man as you furrowed your eyebrows, trying to recall if you had processed what he said. You were thankful he was patient as he repeated himself. “Are you well enough to feed yourself?”

“What.”

“Come on, sit up.” He urged you. Confused, you sat up. You reached out to grab the stack of tissues on your nightstand and blew into it. While you didn’t find it dignified to blow your stuffy nose in front of your crush, you found it was far less embarrassing than to drip snot in front of him. You grimaced as you tossed the tissue into the trash can. As you looked up, you were surprised to see a spoon of your favorite soup hovering in front of your face. “Here.”

“Huh.” You said, dumbfounded. Maybe the sickness was taking your intelligence too, because it felt like right now all you could muster were confused sounds and words. You blinked as you watched Tomas nod towards you, gently lifting the spoon closer to your mouth. Panicking, you leaned forward and ate the soup.

How is it that him being here made your favorite soup just a bit better?

“Good.” Tomas praised, and you felt yourself flush at the simple word. Does he know how much you adored him? No, and you doubted how much even these simple actions meant to you. Happily, he seemed to urge you to eat more, and you complied. You were not going to pass up on this opportunity to bask in his attention. “You know, I worry for you, sometimes. No one in their right mind would normally run into the snow like that.”

“I’m not a fragile baby.” You huffed stubbornly, sniffing. Yet on the inside you were fawning. He worried for you. Maybe it’s because he thought you were insane, but he worried for you! That had to mean something, right? The gray clad man shot you a look, and you pouted. “Just because I’m sick doesn’t mean anything.”

“Uh huh.” Smoke replied, sass in his tone. Still, he gave you a radiant smile as he continued to feed you soup. You felt on top of the world. If only you didn’t feel miserable otherwise, you’d consider getting sick more often so you could bask in his attention.

You glanced at Smoke’s face.

Nevermind, you would gladly trade your health if you could continue to be pampered by this man.

You had several blissful minutes of Smoke feeding you soup. As you finished the bowl, he let out a satisfied hum as he set the emptied bowl on the nightstand next to you. You also drank more from the glass of water he brought.

You were feeling a bit better already! Or maybe that was just the effect Smoke had on you. You weren’t certain which one it was. Maybe it was both.

“Glad to see you’re feeling better.” Tomas said, and you felt your heart skip a beat. You were so, so lucky to know this man. You inhaled, holding your breath as he pressed his hand to your forehead again. His touch lingered longer this time. And you weren’t sure if you were being delusional or not when you swore his thumb brushed your cheek. “Good, no fever.” He murmured, though you weren’t sure why he checked again.

Still, with the way he was looking at you, you had no room to question or complain about that. Certainly he just wanted to make sure you were feeling better.

You sat there, taking in the sight of Tomas. His warm, gray eyes. His nice, fluffy hair that you always had to hold yourself back from playing with. Your eyes traced over his cheekbones down to his chin, and for the most briefest of seconds, you gazed at his lips.

Why did you have to be sick!?

“Did you take any medicine yet?” He asked, peering at you curiously. You froze, completely forgetting that medicine was a thing. You had just been planning on honestly sleeping this stupid sickness off. Medicine would have definitely helped.

“Uh, no.” You admit, sheepishly. You watched as Smoke playfully rolled his eyes before pulling out a small bottle from his pocket.

“Good thing I brought some for you.” Smoke said, an almost smug tone in his voice. He poured out two pills, and glanced at you. “I know you too well.” He shook the bottle in his hand as if to emphasize the point.

There was something all too sweet in his voice that made you want to swoon and fall into his arms.

He held out his hand, the two small pills in his palms. Quickly, you reached for them. You ignored the rising heat to your face as your hand brushed his. You really, really wanted to hold his hand. They felt warm and soft.

You felt his expectant eyes on you as you reached for the last of your water. You popped the two pills in your mouth, and you quickly tilted your head back as you took a mouthful of water. You swiftly swallowed, and you let out a sigh as the pills disappeared into your stomach.

“Thank you, Tomas.” You croaked out, and immediately wanted to slap yourself for. Why did your voice have to give out on you on what was supposed to be such a heartfelt moment? Your worries all melted away as he shot you the most beautiful grin you’ve seen in your life.

“Anything for you.” Tomas said, his voice gentle and soft. He said your name with reverence, as if you were the most important thing. He grabbed your hand. And held it carefully between his own. Your eyes dropped to his hand holding, and it felt like the wind was knocked out of you. You weren’t sure if you could pass off the heat on your cheeks as you simply being sick.

“Did you hear what I said?”

Snapping out of your daze, you looked up to see Smoke’s intent gaze on you. You opened your mouth, trying to come up with the correct answer. You certainly couldn’t say that you were too busy swooning over the man to hear what he said. But you couldn’t just say anything because then it’d be obvious you hadn’t been paying attention.

And yet, it didn’t matter.

“You’re too cute.” Tomas said softly, and you suddenly wondered if you had been dreaming all this all this time. Getting up, he leaned over and gently pressed a featherlight kiss onto your forehead. He then drew back with a soft smile. “Get some rest, okay?” He murmured, cupping your cheek gently, rubbing his thumb against it before letting go.

You watched wordlessly as he gathered the bowl and water glass. He turned around and sent you another sweet smile. And you swore in his eyes he had the hint of the smuggest attitude you’ve ever seen on him as he looked you up and down.

He must know how much you adored him. That bastard.

As the door closed, you sat in silence as your face continued to burn. Your heart was beating far too fast for what was healthy for a sick person. You lifted your hand to brush against where his lips had met your forehead, and you felt like you were falling in love all over.

Maybe being sick wasn’t so bad.

“Look who’s the reckless one, now?”

You grinned as you entered Tomas’ room, a bowl of soup and a glass of water in your hands. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the eye roll he sent you as he blew his nose. Still, he sent you a weak smile as he laid in his bed. He didn’t catch your sickness as bad as you, but he was still sick regardless. Bumping into the door, you closed it as you approached him.

“Maybe it was reckless, but the look on your face was worth it.” Smoke said, a hint of smugness in his voice as he smiled at you. You scoffed, but you knew you couldn’t even fake being mad at this man. Setting down the bowl of soup and the water, you sat on his bed beside him.

“Was it worth it?”

“Anything is worth it if it involves you.”

Sighing dreamily, you cupped his cheek as you leaned forward to press a soft kiss on his lips. You marveled as his face bloomed into a soft pink. He held your hand in place, leaning into your soft touch. Your heart skipped a beat.

“I don’t think you should be kissing sick people.” Smoke teased, his eyes squinting at you as his eyebrows raised. You rolled your eyes. Raising your hand, you pinched his other cheek, eliciting an exaggerated ‘ouch’ from the man.

“Says you.” You huffed, pouting.

“My bad.” Tomas chuckled. “I really couldn’t resist though.” He admitted as he looked up at you. Why did he have to have the dreamiest eyes in all of Earthrealm? You returned his smile, rubbing his cheek gently with your thumb.

Yeah, getting sick wasn’t so bad after all.

#smoke x reader #mk1 x reader #mortal kombat x reader #tomas x reader #tomas vrbada #tomas #smoke #mortal kombat #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat fanworks #mortal kombat headcanons #mk1 #mk smoke #tomas x you

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wannaeatramyeon · 10 months

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Gun Park x Reader: this is our place (we make the rules)

It’s not that weird, is it?

Knocking on a neighbour’s door that you don’t know on a Friday evening, asking for a screwdriver as your kitchen sink is flooding, damp t-shirt sticking to you and a wet streak through your hair.

No. You shake your head. This resembles nothing like a terrible cheesy porn scenario. It’s fine. This is fine.

(And really, you should know who the maintenance people are in this building… Frankly. It’s your first night in this seriously upscale building. Do they even have maintenance people or is it just personal butlers?)

You self-consciously try to run your hands through your hair, already knowing you look desperately out of place in your new home.

But, god bless her soul, your estranged grandma has pretty much set you up for life. Leaving you a decent inheritance and an apartment in Gangnam. So what if it came with a dodgy sink where the water isn’t so much leaking as gushing out.

No problem.

You have all the world’s information at your fingertips and countless NewTube tutorials. A lifetime of frugal habits and a can-do attitude means you’re not going to spend more than you need to.

So here you are.

Outside your neighbour’s door.

Putting off looking like a weirdo while every second your new apartment could be resembling more like a swimming pool.

You take a deep breath, steeling your resolve and ring the doorbell.

A faint chime from inside reaches your ears and you wait.

And wait.

And just as you’re on the verge of leaving and trying someone else, you hear footsteps. Which, you think with unease, sounds irritable. You didn’t even know footsteps could sound irritable.

The door cracks open, just slightly, and the man peering through the gap narrows his black eyes at you. Needs must; you’ll just casually breeze past that.

With what you hope is a winning smile, the words tumble out.

“Hi, I’m your new neighbour. This used to belong to my grandma but I’m here. Just moved in! Funny story actually, she didn’t take too good care of it so now I have a leaky sink. You can probably tell,” you signal to the state of your hair and clothing, “I’m sorry for disturbing you, I didn’t mean to-”

He cuts you off, words short and terse. “Why are you here?”

“Oh… uh, do you have a screwdriver I can borrow? Flathead please.”

The guy takes one more look at you and shuts the door.

Excuse me? Did he just? Wow.

You’re not really sure what to do, because who doesn’t lend their neighbour a screwdriver? You shuffle your feet, contemplating if you should try the neighbours on the other floor. But what if they shut their door in your face too?

And maybe you should have called a plumber or maintenance already like a normal person. But they likely won't get here for hours. Hindsight is a bitch.

Just as you’re about to skulk away, trying to concoct another plan, the door opens again. Fully this time.

“Here,” the man says, now revealing himself to you and handing over a toolbox.

Holy shit. You take in his tall lean frame, pretty sure you can see his muscles and abs through his shirt what the fuck, the strong jaw and the hair which is this side of mussed, obviously relaxing after a long week. He looks about your age and might be the hottest guy you’ve ever laid eyes on.

Cheeks flushing, you stammer your thanks and after he gives you a slight nod (was that a smirk?), you take your leave.

Fuck fuck fuck. It doesn’t work. Fuck NewTube and fuck this sink.

What if it floods fully and leaks through to the apartment below. You can’t afford to pay for damages of whatever fancy shit you may or may not have broken.

Your neighbour' door opens for the third time this evening, and the guy holds his hand out expectantly for his toolbox.

In for a penny, in for a pound. You move it a touch out of reach, a hostage of sorts, as you start to ramble again, this time tears pricking at your eyes.

“I’m so sorry but I couldn’t fix it. Is there a maintenance or plumbing number you can give me?”

He frowns, your words sinking in and checking out your sorry state.

“Is this going to damage my apartment?”

“No?” The question mark is loud.

“Tell me what is wrong with your… sink.”

You mutter something about hopefully just a leaky valve. Which should be oh-so-simple to fix, according to your troubleshooting skills. Perhaps that is as lacking as your handiness.

With a sigh, he grabs the toolbox out of your hand, fingers brushing yours too quickly before you’re able to comprehend what’s happening, and moves with confident strides towards your place.

Gun, he answered after you asked his name. You thought he didn’t hear when you asked the first time. The second time he hesitated, a little shifty with his body language. As if his name is a secret.

And as he ducks under your kitchen sink with a screwdriver, head almost fully shoved in the cabinet, vascular forearms showing with his sleeves rolled up, tinkering with something or another; you wonder if anything ever looks out of place in those arms, held in those fingers.

His shirt, which looks painfully expensive with a designer logo plastered all over it, is completely soaked through (dear god, those were his abs that were showing clearly through), now looking tantalising transparent and clinging to his torso.

With his arms lifted, it rides up. Showing a pale strip of skin. All hip bones and muscles and fuck. Fuck.

This is your home. Yours. How are you so incredibly flustered in your own home?

“Wrench.” comes his voice, low and silky.

“Uhh…” you rummage around and hand him the adjustable tool.

A twist, a creak, and the water slows.

Drying up to a slow leak, then a few drips, then… nothing.

Is this guy an angel or what? Your survey the puddles, body sagging with relief that in hindsight it isn’t too terrible. No lasting damage.

Gun stands up, dusting himself off and you gush your thanks. Pouring your gratitude.

His black eyes shift to you, aloof and apathetic.

“Don’t mention it. It’s a one off. I’m not in the habit of doing favours.”

Huh?

Your jaw hangs open at his attitude as he makes a swift exit without giving you a second glance.

So much for him being an angel.

#not sure about this #not sure about a multi chap for gun cos i cannot write that guy #also not sure about writing so much from reader POV #lookism #lookism x reader #lookism webtoon #lookism manhwa #lookism fanfic #lookism fics #gun park #park jonggun #gun park x reader #park jonggun x reader #wannaeatramyeon

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earthstellar · 7 months

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it is time to be old on the internet: TFP Ratchet's hatred of 2010 era human tech is hilarious

every time Ratchet complains about shitty human technology in TFP, it's so funny to me, that shit is so good

because, I mean, I grew up with the first computer in my house being a fucking Tandy 1000, which to be fair wasn't exactly the hottest model even then, but still LMAO

the first modem I ever messed with as a kid was the wood box phone receiver type, the acoustic coupler ones, which was my dad's, and he only had it because his job at a local university meant he could borrow one from their tech lab (so we didn't technically own it)

if I remember correctly, the one we had ran at 300 baud, which was fucking amazing for such a set up at the time. slightly later AOL dial up looked like lightning speed compared to that shit.

my first chat rooms were BBS/Usenet (whenever I could connect) and IRC chats. now everyone has Discord and I still don't understand how that shit works lmao but that's more of a me problem and less of an age problem, I think

we got dial up (in the "modern" sense of it being AOL dial up service with the infamous hell noises) in my household in 1994, back when it was pretty much a brand new thing (at least for AOL), and I remember the Eternal September Usenet rush, lmao

imagine if TFP took place in the 80s/90s, oh my god

(I'm assuming TFP takes place in roughly 2010 because that's when the show premiered, and Miko has some kind of Razr-inspired flip phone, so if we assume it's supposed to be based on the first model of Razr, then at the earliest that places the show in 2004)

Ratchet would have gone completely insane with old school internet capable consumer level human tech

Ratchet: "How do I look at photos on this monitor?"

80s Raf: "what"

Ratchet: "what"

oh god now I want an 80s/90s TFP AU so fucking bad. imagine 80s Raf. it's so good

oh god, IMAGINE 90s RAF. just getting traumatised by terrifying shitty mid-90s FMV horror games. this poor boy. but imagine his hype when the PS1 would come out in the USA in 1995. the hype would be so fucking real. lmao

also for those of you who are Younger and Blessed With Good Internet From An Early Age, if you want a good idea of old school internet shit, go ahead and watch WarGames (1983) and look up 2600 Magazine and Mondo 2000 if you don't already know about those.

(personally I consider WarGames and Hackers (1995) to be the two best simultaneously dumbest and best movie depictions of computer bullshit in their respective eras, although Hackers was more of a thing that informed cyber culture after it released rather than reflecting actual hacker culture as it was at that exact time but anyway, please watch them if you have not seen them already, you will love this shit lmao)

I assume almost all of you already know about this stuff, but just in case, I want to mention it. those two movies are really good. lol

anyway, Ratchet dealing with early internet. early shitty human tech. or at least the 90s shit. imagine Ratchet having to listen to the fucking dial up screeching. the kids having to look through geocities webrings to see if any images of the bots had been leaked on any conspiracy websites. just 10/10 lmaooo

"I hate talking to machines" Ratchet, buddy, you have NO IDEA how bad it could have been!!!

anyway I'm old, I guess that's the point of this post LOL

#tfp #tfp ratchet #tfp raf #transformers prime #just thinkin'#maccadam #maccadams

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ceofjohnlennon · 1 year

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"Eventually I learned to distinguish the differences in temperament. John's granny glasses and pale skin, milk-white like the tigers in the Delhi zoo, suggested the persona of a studious intellectual, high-strung and enigmatic, carefully sifting the text of the Maharishi's wisdom for the grains of something that he could recognize as the truth. Like a lot of other people west of Suez, in Europe and America, he'd been expecting a guru to turn up, and suddenly, 'There he was in the Hilton hotel.' Yes, he said, it was great to be rich, great to be famous, but 'we're not the eternal rich men,' and money isn't what makes or sings the songs. One evening when Harrison said that 'nobody can be one hundred percent without the inner life,' Lennon told the other students at the table that the band's records served as diaries of its developing consciousness. In the photographs seen on the covers of their recent albums, he hoped and assumed that people might notice 'something going on behind the eyes other than guitar boogie.' He wasn't sure that the Maharishi was wiser than Lewis Carroll, but he knew that if a person could find within himself an inner wonderland impervious to the pressures of space and time, 'then nothing's going to shake my world.' Ringo and Paul didn't talk as much about the meditation. Yes, they had results with it. No, it wasn't a put-on, but their attitude implied that it was George's thing, and if he wanted to go to India, okay, fine, everybody went to India. Ringo missed his children and his nine cats, and he figured that he could assume the lotus position just as successfully in Liverpool. Maureen hated the flies — to the point that if there was only one fly in the room she would know exactly where it was, how it got there, and why it must be destroyed. She and Ringo had consulted the Maharishi on the subject, but the Maharishi told them that for people traveling in the realm of pure consciousness, flies no longer matter very much. 'Yes,' Ringo said, 'but that doesn't zap the flies, does it?' McCartney objected to the Maharishi's excessive adulation of the band and all its works ('the bit about being the sons of God and the saviors of mankind'), nor did he much care for the abstractions that sustained the yogi's grandiose metaphysics. 'I get a bit lost in the upper reaches of it,' he said. He also wished that the Maharishi would avoid talking to the Beatles about subjects that he, McCartney, knew something about. He found the Maharishi's support of the draft laws disillusioning; his girlfriend, Jane Asher, often wondered aloud what it would be like to see the moonlight on the Taj Mahal. Talking to Paul was easier than talking to George or to Ringo — his accent not as strong, more willing to exchange meaningless pleasantries, still fond of smoking cigarettes, his sense of humor affable and tolerant. When he showed up one day at lunch to say that he'd had a dream about being trapped in a leaking submarine of indeterminate color, it was Anneliese Braun who provided the interpretation. She clapped her hands in the enthusiastic way of a child seeing its first snowfall. 'How very nice,'x she said, wondering if McCartney appreciated the great truth with which he had been blessed. Paul smiled and said he didn't think he quite got all of it. 'Why it's the perfect meditation dream,' Anneliese said. The voyage in the submarine represented the descent into pure consciousness in the vehicle of the mantra; the leaks represented anxiety, and the surfacing of the submarine in a London street signified a happy return to society and one’s fellow men (like Ulysses coming back to Penelope), which was the purpose of all good meditation. The other people at the table applauded, and Geoffrey drew a comparison to the paintings of Hieronymous Bosch."

The Beatles in India. ㅡ From the book "With The Beatles" by Lewis Lapham.

#john lennon #paul mccartney #george harrison #ringo starr #the beatles #60s #1968 #jane asher #maureen starkey #with the beatles #lewis lapham #beatles in india #my:read

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chaifootsteps · 4 months

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Hi, hi! I've been a longtime follower of your blog, but this is my first time sending in an ask because of anxiety. You're the most consistent blog that keeps up to date with Viv and her work. As someone who first saw Viv through the Die Young animation, and watched the HH pilot when it was first released, I grew disillusioned as s1 of Helluva Boss slowly aired. It was mostly because I didn't really enjoy the Stolitz ship and I believe the Erin Frost drama had come out (god bless Erin - she, Ken and everyone else deserved so much better). Plus the world-building and character development was just so off.

I know people have said this before: the concept Viv has is good, but the execution sucks. There's a vision but the product is so damn juvenile. I'm ace, and I became attached to Alastor due to him being ace as well, but we all know how Viv responded when the ship wars were happening. I couldn't stand the constant sex jokes or swearing in HB since when was it required for an "adult" show to have that?

Thank you for the episode leaks. Only got to see ep 1 before they were removed. The only thing that made me laugh out loud was the Niffty gag where she stared dead into the camera. I also liked Adam a bit? Sure the "original dick" thing went on way too long, but he was funny too. I surprising enjoyed his song - the lil fist bump he did with Lute was cute, and I like Lute but knowing Viv's record... eh. There was this cool shot where Adam flew up and Lute and those golden angels go behind him and spread their wings making Adam look like the biblically accurate angel. Except Adam himself ruins the effect because what the ever-loving heck is he wearing? I hate it.

In terms of shipping, I wasn't into the Huskerdust interactions. Angel wasn't flirting, that was sexual harassment. In the pilot it was okay because their interaction was brief and Husk pushed Angel off. Chaggie was... something. I genuinely feel that Chaggie could've worked had they not been established as a couple in the first place. The reason why Charlastor (and I guess Charlentious?) happened is because they had chemistry and their interactions could be read as a romantic interest. Since Chaggie was already established, there was an expectation for them to have those, but they weren't delivered and we know well that they weren't supposed to be a thing in the first place. Have Vaggie still be her bff and bodyguard, but show those moments where she genuinely cares for Charlie's well-being that indicates she's in love with her, yet Charlie is completely oblivious to everything. Actually, reverse harem Charlie sounds pretty funny to me.

Btw, armchair psychology anon, as a person studying psychology in my final year of college, dw about people taking issues with your speculations. NPD and other personality disorders are ego-syntonic, which means that the individual's behaviours line up with their beliefs, hence why PDs are only diagnosed during adulthood once brain maturation and personality development is reached. The only exception to this is ASPD (which NPD shares a category with called Cluster B along with histrionic and BPD) as you can diagnose a child with conduct disorder that can become ASPD when they're adults. Cluster B PDs are terribly demonised by media and the public despite the volume of research (I blame misunderstanding and ignorance). Viv could have it or could not; it's just that she shows signs of having it, and that's it. Even if she doesn't, she's still an awful person. Idk what happened in her childhood or some point in her life for her to become like this, but it doesn't excuse treating people like crap - oh wait, ain't this her characters in a nutshell?

That's all I gotta say for now. I hope it's okay to send more like this in the future; I'd love to be a specific anon but idk what's already taken lol. Take care, Chai, and I hope you have a good day/evening.

By all means, send as many as you've got! Because this was a delight to read.

Let me know when you come up with a name. I'll give you a placeholder one for now.

#Anonymous #to be named anon #viv stuff #actual blog post #vivziepop critical

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witchlingcirce · 1 month

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🚨TEAM BLACK TRAILER & SPOILERS FOR HOTD🚨

Oh… MY…. GOD. This is literally all I could have asked for this is one of the best things I’ve seen in so long I’m so HYPED!!

This shot… I’m literally heart broken this 💔. This is obviously at Lucerys funeral and honestly it’s just…. TO MUCH. The tears in Jaces eyes, them burning Luke’s clothing because there wasn’t a body, baby Joffrey. This scene looks absolutely stunning but also so gut wrenching. I FEEL LIKE ILL DEFINITELY CRY 😭.

DRAGON TWINS DRAGON TWINS DRAGON TWINS DRAGON TWINS

Everyone knows that I manifested this, HARD. Whoever gave them a new, better wig bless you. To the person who actually put them into nice clothing, BLESS YOU TOO.

Baela is literally Laenas twin like… SHE LOOKS SO GOOD.

I’m so happy there finally getting more scenes and lines, I was praying for this. DRAGON TWINSSSS I LOVE YOUUUU

MOOOONNNNN DANCERRRREEEEEEREE

She looks almost exactly like what I imagine a young Vhagar would look like. VHAGER IS HER MUMMY CONFIRMED!!!

It’s hard to see in this particular shot but I do like that they kept her a paler green colouring!!!! I don’t think you guys understand how much I love moondancer. She like two moments in the book and I decided I would Stan forever.

BAELA TARGARYENNNNNNNN GETTING her own moment is something I am actually so hyped about, THATS MY WARRIOR PRINCESS.

You know I have a feeling that maybe after Rooks Rest and seeing what happens to a certain someone she mayyyyy cut her hair, like book Baela. Kind of like the thing, hair holds memories yk?

Cregan stark is NOT BLONDE WHO CHEEEEREEEEEDDDDDDDDDDD

I understand that the north storyline this season will probably only last three episodes max (damn you eight episodes)! NONETHELESS, I am beyond excited.

Can we talk about how Jacaerys is free from the ugly wig??? THANK THE HEAVENS!! There doing my boy right. Seeing him a decent amount in the trailer made me so hyped, I always thought he deserved to be seen more in the first season since YK, he’s the Heir’s heir (hahah) but I’m so glad there stepping up there game this season!!!

RHAENYRA RHAENYRA THE WOMAN YOU ARE! Whoever made her costumes and hair this season BLESS YOUR HEART.

I think it’s obvious she’s most likely wearing a Visenya braid and she is STANDING ON BUSINESS!

Before when I was talking about the posters I was discussing how it seemed that they gave her back her cunningness and determination from the books and I am SO HAPPY THEY DID. Because THAT is a queen of he seven kingdoms THATTTTTT is MY WOMANNNNN!!!!

Also this is a side note: but I like how she refers to Aegon as Alicent Hightower’s son, not her brother or half brother but as ALICENTS SON!!!! I feel like it probably has to do with them not being close, but it also it makes it feel like Rhaenyra doesn’t consider him a true son of Viserys. Very interesting, can’t wait for there beef to get more intense.

Rhaenyra… Rhaenyraaaas EMMA D’ARCY YOU ARE AN ABSOLUTELY GORGEOUS PERSON. I’m in shock, whoever made there outfits this season did they GOOOOOODDDDDD

LOTS of theories on who’s she’s looking 🙉

1. Alicent Hightower

There was a bunch of leaks going around that there would be a final meeting between the two. I think this is an outfit that she wears in the earlier episodes so idkkk buttt If it Rhaenyra why are you looking at her like that… TOXIC YURI CONTINUES.

2. Mysaria

I feel it being Mysaria would be very interesting. Maybe it’s her pleading ‘loyalty’ towards Rhaenyra. And then later on (if there keeping it like how it is in the books) helping Daemon blah B&C.

This is Corlys definitely telling Rhaenys not to get involved and Rhaenys telling him she has to do what’s right for her house and what’s right for Baela and Rhaena 💔💔💔

THERE GOING TO BREAK UP MY HEART THIS SEASON.

Anyways guys I’m so excited, I’m so happy that there finally giving team blacks kids moments to shine and also letting Rhaenyra be book Rhaenyra… JUNE 16th can’t come sooner!

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ohmeadows · 2 months

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I'm absolutely hooked on 'The Dew Of Dying Stars.' I find myself drawn back to it again and again. If anyone gets interest in the ship, I always tell/suggest them your fic. I'm curious, what drew you to pair Jingliu and Ruan Mei together? Like what clicked to you? Also I hope you don't mind another question (sorry!) what's your take on Ruan Mei's character in canon? I'm still having a hard time understanding her still.

jingliu and ruan mei i think started when a friend dm'd me at the end of september going "have you considered: jingliu/ruan mei" and for the first few days it just kinda rotated in the back of my head. this was around the time we knew a bit more about ruan mei from in-game texts in simulated universe, and a few tiny leaks, but it kept growing as jingliu released. looking back i'm surprised how much of that early brainstorming survived all the way to the published fic, considering how much was guesswork at ruan mei as a character, but the edits were quite minimal in that regard.

overtime i started bringing it up in my discord server to chat about the potentials and that in turn helped me develop and refine the idea even more. it really was a group effort of people coming in to offer suggestions, ideas and visuals, and i can't thank the souls who chipped in enough.

for me, what attracted me was the potential to delve into a relationship where neither is looking for a conventional relationship, if that makes sense. jingliu after baiheng is in such a furious and spiraling mindstate, and ruan mei is cool and distant, collected and observing. the final true click came when ruan mei's story revealed she wants to become an aeon, considering jingliu's outspoken desire to put aeons in their graves. on top of that, jingliu is on the verge of death, barely alive, while ruan mei is all about life, bringing it forth in others, bringing others back from death. their underlying themes open up tons of potential, and it set me off on a writing frenzy.

ruan mei in canon... to understand her it's important to understand what she represents: in this game where aeons influence so much, she is the first person we meet who outright says she wants to become one. but there's a dehumanizing process we go through to achieve godhood, severing your bonds to the earthly realms, the things that make you mortal and human. i know a lot of people are very upset that she's a cold and distant creator, leaving her creations behind, but: is that how gods behave? is that not what gods do? she's standing on the precise intersection of human and god, and the question is if anything we do will sway her to remain human, or instead convince her to ascend. her coldness and distance protects her ambition. to me, she thinks ascension is the only thing that can truly fulfill her at this point, now that she has nurtured even a world into existence. but what if godhood is just as empty and hollow as before? who kills a god, who puts the god out of their misery, like how we had to witness the propagation being killed?

there's an interesting duality to her because while she keeps her heart cold and distant from other people, she very much indulges in finer things, filling her life with silk, embroidery, baking. not to get too deep about myself, but during times where i've been a hermit, that's how i managed to keep myself balanced. always working on creating.

and on a deeper level... there's some need for control in ruan mei. it's quieter, in a way, than for example cocolia or sunday, but it is there. she wants to be able to control how others bond to her, preferably not at all. she exerts a lot of control over simuni, being able to alter it, bless us, withhold information. extended - she thinks if she controls all the variables at play, she can control it all. don't be mistaken about it, her desire to be an aeon isn't to make things good or right, it's to be able to control the flow of life at her whim.

that's my reading anyway, i'm sure it will develop as we get more content with her! she's a really fascinating character, and i'm curious about where she will go, if she will be allowed to ascend or not.

#ask meadows anything #i brainrotted for a while sorry but it was a really interesting question i have a lot to say about apparently!#tysm anon!

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spicymiilk · 11 months

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ooh i wanna hear your thoughts on eywa blessed spider now and why your not really a fan

Okay so first lemme just say that a majority of this is just personal preference rather than anything concrete but I have fucking Thoughts

First, most of what I see of Eywa blessed Spider is like, he can bond and interact disney princess style with Pandora’s fauna, breathe their air and Eywa seeks him out to connect with him via her funky little tendrils

All in all, I think it’s a sweet AU that un-neglects the neglect he faces in the movie, and it seems like it’ll become somewhat canon if we refer to the leaks we’ve had of A3

But. But. I think it makes his character fundamentally less interesting.

One of Spider’s appealing bits is the fact that he exists on a planet that is inherently incompatible with him. He cannot breathe their air. He cannot connect with their animals. He does not experience a critical aspect of the Na’vi’s existence, which is their direct communication with their planet and their God in the most literal sense of the word. And yet, he’s been put in a position where the enculturation he’s experienced has taught him to value what they value, and see the world the way the Na’vi do.

I think “fixing” that takes away so much conflict and interest from his story. For example, think of the one spiri fic where he connects with and tames one of the tsurak and it’s violent and hard and it’s a struggle that he has to go through to further his character and place in society. Shit like that? Delicious. Scrumptious.

If he can connect with animals, what the point of even having him as a human? It’s cute, and he can have a sidekick, but that’s just. Eh. Not doing it for me. If he can breathe the air, his biggest natural obstacle that stands in the way of his safety and survival is gone. He’s just a human who’s a little weaker (unless the au makes him strong, in which case that’s also no obstacle) and Eywa welcomes him with open arms

But I really like the idea of there being a limit to Eywa’s abilities to meddle with her people. Do I think the nature of her existence implies that she loves and cherishes all her people? Absolutely. And I think it adds something that she cannot show it much further beyond gentle, tiny signs.

But again, it really comes down to the dynamic between her (a metaphysical being who wants to care for someone who is quite literally beyond her grasp) and Spider (a human who wants to love a God who is quite literally beyond his grasp). I think having little signs, like the atokirina, fit much better within established canon than altered physiology. And I prefer it.

Again, I think it really is just the stuff I like seeing in fiction n media. There is so much to explore in Spider’s relationship with the Na’vi and where he stands within their culture. The dynamics he has with the planet could be so interesting, and having Eywa just whisk away all his problems (while that feels good) just puts him in a position where he’s not the only Human Child on Pandora, which is a massively intriguing spot to have him in, but just a discount Na’vi who doesn’t have any of the problems that actually allow him to serve the narrative (Quaritch n Neytiri) or have room for character exploration (incompatibility with his environment)

#spider socorro #avatar 2 #avatar the way of water #spicy’s asks #watered down milk #it’s a just what I like #I also don’t fuck with eywa having enough power to literally alter people’s bodies #like it’s a bit too much into fantasy and out of sci fi you know?

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mooncleaver · 2 years

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warnings: the battle of manhattan basically, one mention of g*be, loosely canonical

[14:20]

"she's just- agh! i don't even know why im so frustrated!"

his voice leaked with worry, cracking at its seams with barely contained panic that etched his dialogue, utterly maddened at the thought of you being separated from him. he didn't even have time to react properly when you'd disappeared from his sight to help the others prepare for the imminent battle, leaving like a breeze that left him a tangled mess thinking of how he wouldn't be able to protect you if something—gods forbid—ever happened to you. there was simply no time to act on his thoughts; there were so many lives at risk if any single mistake was made in these fragile moments.

much to percy's deathly relief, he got the chance to visit sally one more time before everything went down. though, it was not as joyful as a trip to his mother's would usually be. his movements were frantic, furiously trying to contact you and not attract any monsters at the same time. he paced around the apartment at least twice in a circle, muffled footsteps thudding like the the ones emanating from his heartbeat, a thousand thoughts whirring in his mind faster than he could comprehend.

“percy,” his mother’s distant voice buzzed in his ear but he was too preoccupied to think it wasn't just a figment of his battered imagination.

sally frowned at her son's condition. he looked out of breath, eyes moving wildly with a burden far too heavy weighing on his shoulder. of course, she knew the perils of the demigod life, already experiencing it first hand when she was held hostage by the god of the underworld. even after she was set free, knowing her son had gone through all of that danger—dangers that a 12 year old should not have to confront, ever—still made her heart palpitate wildly with anxiety and unease. back then.. he was still so innocent to the true cruelty of this world.

all her life sally had done everything she could to protect him, shouldered the rain for him and took bullets life aimed at them. she believed with her whole heart that he was the greatest blessing to her, a ball of happiness contained into this wonder of a boy. he was her light in the darkness, borne of ardor and genuine adoration between her and a man that seemed to be a myth on earth. and that was what their love story felt like: a golden myth between two lost souls looking for solace. but the world was a wicked thing sometimes, slipping through a back door and carving out a person as it took and took from them. when he left, her salvation came in the form of her son with the brightest eyes and the purest of hearts; sally would be damned if something happened to him.

but some things were just.. simply meant to be. things like going through a hurt that would mar someone physically and mentally, but also to come back with a love that allowed one to forgive cruel fate. that didn't mean that she wouldn't fight tooth and nail trying to defy it for her only boy. it was a hard pill to swallow but as the saying goes, if you love something, let it go. with time she learnt to let go, to let him experience the life he was meant to live—all the good and bad, the ones that shaped him to be the valiant boy he is now. in the end, he always came back. her baby boy always came back to her with the same heart that was too big for the world.

and to think that dreadful year was just the beginning of it. now, he was preparing for war with a titan. gearing up with armor that looked as if it’d crumble at the sight of an ill-intent heart, with will power that was only just forged, too fragile to be hurt. absolutely no mother in this world would want to see their child off to war—he was just a boy for goodness sake, only fifteen. although he was a teenager already now, grown and mature for his age, in her eyes he'd always be her baby that would munch on her blue cookies, so small and ingenuous as he sat on the marble counters. her baby who was her driving force, her reason and her motivation to give the both of them a better life, even if it meant marrying someone as vile as gabe ugliano. it pained her deeply to see percy so distressed.

she finally reached out to him gently, trying not to surprise him as she hooked her arms over his elbows. "hey, hey, look at me,"

"what's going on?" percy looked up at her, eyes filled with glassy frustration and cavernous fear for the one he was talking about. sally brushed the stray hairs that lamented his forehead after his relentless messing of it, revealing those ceruleans that she adored so much.

"y/n, she- she just left! didn't even tell me where.. just said that she'd go help the rest and that we'd meet in the battlefield.. we were supposed to go there together but.."

oh.. so it was about her. his best friend that he met at camp, his best friend that he would subconsciously ramble about whenever she asked about how life away from home was going. the one that he always seemed to deviate to, even if the conversation wasn't about her in the first place. the same 'best friend' that was clearly brewing into something more at its seams. sally couldn't help but smile at the way her son was fretting over your safety.

"calm your heart, darling, take a deep breathe. everything's going to be okay." and by the gods, there was absolutely no better place in this world than a mother's embrace. he felt the trepidations disappear the moment he succumbed to her allaying scent, eyes closing as the present finally found clemency in his mind.

she always smelled like milk and honey to him. sometimes with a hint of jasmine or bergamot in fleeting flashes that lingered in his senses, but always milk and honey prevailing. it reminded him of the scent of sweet salvation and oh did he hope that when he dies the promised land was in the arms of his mother.

maybe it was the way sally was caressing his back so tenderly that it reminded him of the way she would do that whenever he felt upset, or maybe it was the way he could feel her heartbeat as he laid his ears against her chest; a heart that beat so passionately with love that it was the sole thing anchoring him in this moment. whatever it was, he knew that it was because she was simply his mother, and a mother's love transcends even words and time.

after letting him come back to his senses for a whim, she cupped the side of his cheek onto her palms, guiding his head to face her with a certain benign only one so passionately loving would show, "it's alright to feel angry or upset. you care about her safety, don't you? care manifests differently in people, percy. and it's okay to feel so vehemently about protecting her. that’s what love does to people.”

percy felt his heart skip a beat.

"i don't-" and she gave him a look that dared him to deny her words once more. percy quickly shut his mouth after, scrunching up his brows. there was so much to say and yet, there was nothing needed to be said. she already understood his heart from a single glance at his face, maybe understood him more than he understood himself.

"i guess.. you're right." he eventually let out, honestly unsure of himself. what did she mean, love? surely it was a kind of familiar or platonic love.. right? like loving a sister. but his heart painfully protested otherwise.

"of course i am." she smiled cheekily, nudging her elbows onto his side as he looked away, clearly embarrassed.

sally pressed a chaste kiss to his forehead, resting the pad of her thumb on the bags under his eyes and it felt like pure magic; as if her mere touch could heal him. "now you just keep a clear mind and go out there to find her, okay?"

"but what about you, paul-" percy panicked again, now thinking about the safety of the two of the most important people in his life.

“don't worry about us, baby. we're gonna go find somewhere safe to stay. besides, if any fool ever tries me, you know i do have quite the experience with the.. ehem, defense tools." defense tools might sound like a little bit of an understatement. his mother knew how to defend herself well of course. hades, he even convinced her to take on taekwondo lessons at some point. not to mention that she does in fact know how to use a gun—only for emergencies, of course. you can never be too safe from potential danger.

percy let out a breathy chuckle at her words. even in the most dire situations, sally would always manage to spark up a happy light inside of him. with a new-found resolute, he took a deep breathe and steeled his heart, now even more determined to find you and protect the people he loved.

“okay. okay.. i'm gonna leave now. please, please be safe. i love you so much, mom.” he almost jumped into her arms again, squeezing his eyes shut at the crook of her neck so he could burn it in his mind her familiar scent, the feeling of her hug.

sally smiled fondly, replying to him in the gentlest of tones. “i love you too percy.”

and just when he was about to leave out the door he felt her grab onto his arm again, now faced with a scarily sudden threatening look that he did not want to fall prey to again, "and no funny business out there, you hear me young man?" percy didn’t need to be told that twice. she really meant it with the way her eyes earned a sharp gleam to them, ready to pounce if anyone were to disobey her.

"yes ma’am."

and maybe percy didn't understand what this 'love' his mother was talking about before, but when you took that poisoned dagger meant for him, willingly risking your own life for the sake of him, he finally knew what it meant to love someone. to have your heart resting on the tip of their fingers, so easily broken if they were to make a single detrimental shift. to love someone so much that it made him afraid to lose. that notion alone turned his fears into a burning passion, a burning passion to care about you with such devotion that would one day be venerated in the stars, glittering so brightly as if his love refused to falter.

ok but like let me just rave about how much i love my mom and how much i love sally jackson through this fic pls

masterlist

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haleigh-sloth · 1 year

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379 Leaks React

Okay, gonna start this with honesty and say that I legit was concerned for a bit, reading parts of the leaks. Namely this:

Mostly because as the leaks were dropping (and we hadn't gotten to the end of the chapter yet) it felt like a very sudden burst of agency, independence, will power, you name it--from Tomura. But after the whole chapter came out and I saw the art in there, well, I see it differently and in the end, still things are going in a way I'd hoped for and what works for Tomura's character.

I'll start this by saying that....yeah no, Tomura isn't free. Don't get your hopes up. We've got his personality back and I'm grateful for that, but this man is far from free, and I'll explain.

Tomura: I've been here the whole time, waiting for the moment to take back control, I don't need you or OFA, I have things I want that have nothing to do with you!

That's great! He's kept himself from completely disappearing, HE did that, he kept himself afloat and fought for control. He has some semblance of agency and control. He has his independence back!

Or does he.

Also Tomura: Everything I hate started in that house, that house that I destroyed because I wanted to, because I hated it and everyone in it, and because I was meant to destroy so why would I have done anything differently. Everything I've always wanted has always been to destroy, my "origin" is destruction because I killed my family and destroyed my house because that's what I was born to do!

I really don't need to go into detail about how this isn't true. He didn't want to kill his family or destroy his house. He didn't want any of those things.

But what has happened in Tomura's mind is that he has had 0 ways to cope with his grief--so his coping strategy to protect himself from the psychological damage was to recontextualize it entirely.

Tomura: Grief? Nah, I wanted that to happen. So I'm not sad about it.

That's totally a valid coping mechanism that will have long term benefits. I love that for him.

I bring up his obvious unreliable narrating because it's all coming full circle and back into play here.

"Tomura Shigaraki and Tenko Shimura wish for the same thing." Well, at least the 'tenko and tomura are different people crowd can finally shut the fuck up, god bless

Tomura asserting that they're the same--while unexpected, for me at least--is good development. He's acknowledging that his past self is part of who he is, he's trying very hard to reject everything AFO wanted him to be. It's progress because he's trying.

But man, he is not doing a very good job of that.

Exactly what was Tenko's origin again?

I am fairly certain his origin is not based on an innate lust for death and destruction. I’d bet the farm in it.

Tenko didn't want to destroy everything. But Tomura continues to assert this belief onto himself from the recontextualized grief in order to protect himself from said grief.

What results is his self-hatred that's still there. The guilt that surrounds his family's deaths.

This self-hatred is literally exactly why he is so convinced that he has always wanted to destroy everything, that's all he's ever wanted and that's all he was born to do.

Tomura is not free from AFO because his self-hatred is still so deeply ingrained in him.

This is fake out, just like MVA was, just like the PLF war was.

Every time Tomura tries to assert his independence outside of AFO, it fails, and he comes crashing down, hard. He comes crashing down hard because he continues to insist that all he wants, all he has ever wanted, is death and destruction. The more he clings onto this narrative, the more he will continue to lose.

Tomura is not free from AFO because he has not faced his own reality yet.

Now that I've explained that, let's talk about this:

Tomura basically confirming that he caught onto the little hint that Izuku wanted to do more than just punch and kick.

When he said it's a useless effort, he knew what he was referring to. "Don't try saving me, I won't be satisfied until everything is destroyed".

So, the salvation Tomura's been secretly crying out for this entire time, from Midoriya no less, is right in front of him. And--to nobody's surprise--he's rejecting it.

Again, all he can do is destroy, all this saving talk is nonsense, there's absolutely no point.

This is pure proof of how lost in the AFO sauce Tomura is.

He's in the most unstable, unreliable, contradictory, and most of all vulnerable state of his life. He asserts his desire for destruction, being completely unaware that someone has already seen through it all and knows what's going on inside:

Tough luck Tomura. You’re transparent.

This is what I mean by him not facing his own reality yet. He's in there still crying, that hasn't changed. He is in prime saving position. Let's go Izuku, chop chop.

Onto the art:

All of Tomura's speech is written in black text bubbles. I've only seen this one other time:

Based on the evidence above, I think it's safe to say that:

Black text bubbles = whatever is being said in them is probably bullshit

Tomura asserting his independence this chapter is bound to result in the same failures it did in MVA and the PLF war.

Breaking out of the possession JUST to say "I'm BACK! But I still want exactly what you groomed and primed me to want!" is not the comeback he thinks it is, and it is not a subtle downfall.

He will fall harder, again, because he refuses to let himself be picked up (yet).

Other things:

There are two AFOs. Please don't forget, because OG AFO is the real issue here.

That is all.

Translations used from Pikahlua’s translation.

#bnha spoilers #bnha meta #bnha 379 #shigaraki tomura #shimura tenko

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descendantofthesparrow · 9 months

Text

-Hades Ember by Milo Thatch-

Hades Ember; is a small blue gem that glows like fire or a lost soul, its origins are unknown to those who are not within the personal circle of lord Hades; god of the underworld and souls.

Origins; its beginnings are unknown to Auradon and its people-including its now ex-king; Adam/Beast. But it’s rumored by those of the isle that the ember was created by Hades as a last-ditch effort to keep his powers, only to fail and the ember remained dormant until magic began to leak through the magical barrier around the isle of the lost. If one asked Hades-he would say he always had it.

It is unknown if the kingdom of Auradon and its royalty know of its existence. However-there is no files or recordings of the Ember before the August 2019 “scepter” incident, so it is theorized that the ember was only known to the isle and its people.

According to Hades and Lady Mal; the ember can only be used by those who share blood with hades, are claimed by Hades, or are born with the mark of hades. After acquiring the Ember, Lady Mal was able to use some of her father's powers while holding the Ember-but reported she lost those powers when not in possession of the Ember. Some side effects she reported were her outfit colors and hair color shifting to hold more blue instead of her mother's purple.

Its power is unknown but suggested to be immense since it apparently can overpower the dragon's eye scepter-Maleficents scepter, which until the emergence of the Ember, was only to be defeated by Fairy Godmothers' wand. One would think this ember would be sought after and hoarded by those who seek power-but since the ember cannot be used by those who do not share Hades blood or blessing-it is deemed useless by those who wish to horde such powers.

Its apparent powers are beams of light that feel like fire(according to lady mal) that can drain one of energy or magic to power the ember further. It can give one the powers of Hades, such as super strength, immunity to death, clairvoyance, soul manipulation, seeing the strings of fate and life, Pyrokinesis, super speed, enhanced reflexes, and the ability to summon the hound of the underworld.

According to Lady Mal, only Hades can access the full powers of the Ember, since she-in Hades words-is only half Hades, the Ember cannot do everything for her that it does for him. So it is unknown of the full power of the Ember since Lord Hades does not seem to be willing to do tests for us researchers, but Lady Mal is perfectly willing to show off what she can do with the Ember, thankfully.

There are many things we do not know about Hades Ember, such as its origin(like how it possibly wasn’t created until Hades was arrested and sent to the isle in 1995) and why not even Zeus knew of the ember until recently.

It is a greatly mysterious item that could be akin to the trident of Poseidon or the lightning bolt of Zeus, though it is a wonder that it overwhelms the dragon's eye and the Fairy Godmother's wand.

#rewrite lore #rewrite poyw #idk i just felt like writing about the ember #this is like a news article or something in the descendants world #disney descendants #hades descendants #hades ember #writing

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adflictionem · 4 months

Text

Rating: +18

Fandom: Hannibal (TV)

Pairing: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter

Characters: Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter

Tags: Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Murder Husbands, Bl*w Jobs, Hannibal Lecter's Very Active Cowper's Glands, Bruises, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Will loves Hannibal more than anything and treats Hannibal as his religion, Will Graham Loves Hannibal Lecter, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, Sub Hannibal Lecter, or traces of it, Pet Names, Will calls Hannibal baby, and he loves it, Hannibal speaks Italian, Fluff, they are so in love it's diabetes-inducing, i love them so much your honour, Coming Untouched, Coming In Pants

Summary: Will blowing Hannibal in their living room post-fall. That's it.

Word count: 2k ish

AO3 link here

Notes: i have not posted fanfiction in forever. i hope someone out there enjoys this was-to-be-drabble that got out of control <3

Text under cut. Reblogs are appreciated <3

To Will, this was as close to Heaven as he would get, as he thought was possible — kneeled between Hannibal’s legs in front of their couch, hands squeezing his strong thighs with the intent of painting his skin with varying shades of purple, and his mouth full of his fiancée’s cock. It was wonderful, truly. The delicious stretch his throat made as he bobbed his head up and down around his monster’s length, his own saliva sliding down his chin, along with copious amounts of precum — so much of it, always, every time. It never ceased to amaze Will just how messy it could get with Hannibal, and his cock that never stopped leaking. Will was always more than eager to clean it all up, however; to take him into his mouth and swallow until there’s nothing left, or to ride him until he’s dripping, and even letting — often enough asking — the other man to paint his skin with his cum. It was never enough.

And how could Will ever get enough?

How could he get enough of anything Hannibal-pertinent? Of how his fiancée’s skin glistened with sweat, glowing with a hint of something akin to gold, an illusion crafted by the orange hue of the lit fireplace behind them; of the way his chest heaved as he sighed and moaned and even cursed under his breath when Will sucked the tip between his lips, pulling away ever so slightly to run his tongue over the slit —the act of getting the oh so sophisticated Doctor Lecter to lose his composure to the point of cursing always brought the younger man great satisfaction—; of the expression of pure bliss on Hannibal’s divinely sculpted features, and how the beautiful honey of his eyes was obscured nearly completely by black from how dilated his pupils were. The darkness was present, the monster within the man staring back at Will, but it was pliant, willingly submitting to his ministrations, aching for what Will decided to give, and the person-suit was nowhere to be seen.

The moan that escaped his throat sent vibrations all over his fiancée’s cock, who gasped and tightened the hold of his fingers on Will’s hair. Not to control and dictate the rhythm, but for stability, to have a level of grounding as Will accelerated his movements gradually. He pulled away completely, chuckling at the choked-out protest Hannibal gave, and ran his tongue up and down along the length of the older man’s leaking cock, gathering every drop, even as more came trailing down. Bless that man and his unusually active cowper’s glands. It was enough that often, they could forego lube altogether, able to use Hannibal’s slick precum as a substitute. It was messy and it felt so good.

Will was in charge, and he was aware it was an act of love. Pure, unbridled love, powerful enough to devastate Troy and all the gods that may make foible attempts at stopping the inevitable.

This was true power.

‘Will-,’ Hannibal whined, the lovely sound blending into a moan when Will focused his tongue on the man’s frenulum.

Gazing up into his monster’s face, Will smirked in a clear display of enjoyment at being the reason Lucifer himself was being reduced into a whimpering, supplicating mess. And just because he could and would get away with it without any long-lasting consequences, he almost halted his movements, taking to lap his tongue over the thick head of his fiancée’s cock in kitten licks.

‘Yes, love?’

Innocence was impersonated in his tone, but the malice in the striking blue of his eyes denounced his true intentions.

‘Please.’

‘Please what, baby? Use your words. You’re all about that anyways, aren’t you?’

Will cocked his head at Hannibal playfully.

“Wicked boy.” The doctor sighed languidly. “You might be enjoying yourself more than I am.”

He directed a pointed glance at the wet stain on Will’s dress pants, the smooth fabric tight around his crotch.

Will hummed, taking the leaking head between his lips once again, sucking lightly. He revelled in the hiss that blended into a whine that left Hannibal’s throat.

“Yeah. I enjoy sitting here and make an absolute mess out of my fiancée. beg Watch America’s most prolific serial killer submitting to me is something I’ll never get sick of.’ Will grinned, running his tongue along Hannibal’s shaft. ‘And you look so pretty when you beg, darlin.’

It was intentional. The use of the term fiancée, the southern twang at the pet name darling, it was all meticulously crafted to get Hannibal melting further into Will’s ministrations, and the way he moaned at those magic words brought Will a sense of victory. It was a trick the younger man often pulled, the usage of terms of endearment. It was both adorable and amusing how easy it was to get Hannibal to behave exactly like Will wanted by doting on him.

Will took his fiancée’s hard member between his lips again, hollowing out his cheeks, resuming the previous suction movements.

‘Mi demolisci e ricostruisci con ogni singolo tocco, sei il mio tutto. Mio splendido ragazzo. Ti amo tanto.’

Italian flowed from Hannibal’s lips graciously, his pronunciation ever so flawless, even with his shortness of breath and the soft sounds of pleasure escaping his throat with every word spoken. He could understand most of it, a feat he had none other than his partner to thank for, who had been teaching him the language. The surge of affection and love coursing through his chest held an intensity enough to rival the power of a thousand suns, and for a brief moment, he thought he might explode. Holding Hannibal’s adoring gaze as he fell apart under his touch solely bolstered his imminent combustion.

And oh, those were beautiful words. Words he never even dared himself to dream of for the years that lasted their cat and mouse game. You demolish me and rebuild me with every single touch, you are my everything. My gorgeous boy. I love you so. If death was to strike him in that very moment, Will Graham (soon to be Will Lecter) would go a happy man.

If I die, you die too, he had told the doctor once, two or so months after they fell into the frigid Atlantic. Back then, they were cooped up in a cosy little bungalow in a quiet island in the Caribbean, allowing their bodies to heal from their injuries sustained in the fight against the Dragon and their subsequent fall. They sat together, side by side on a couch outside, watching the steady crashing of the waves, breathing in the sea. That was a moment of realisation for Will. It wasn’t a question, it wasn’t a confession, it was a statement, plain and simple. A statement of the truth.

He had never loved anybody or anything before the way he loved Hannibal Lecter. The mere concept of being capable of nursing the raw, unbridled love and devotion he felt for the man was unattainable to Will before they met. And now, Will could not bear to live without it, to live without his other half. He had tried for three years, miserably. Every night, he would lay beside his former wife and try to stop his mind from drifting to the man waiting for him in a cell, with a muzzle over his mouth, but he couldn’t. On the days he did fall asleep, his dreams were filled with Hannibal; at times, a tall, horned monster with claw-like fingers, wrapping around his throat and reminding him where he was, and at other times, he would leave forever, and Will was unable to stop him, unable to scream his name.

Safe to say, for those three years, he did not do much sleeping.

He was foolish to believe he could ever run away from a man like Hannibal Lecter. That he could replace him with someone so mundane. No one could ever compare to Hannibal, not even God himself. Hannibal was above that. Above God, above the Heavens, above any and all. He ignited Will’s body, mind and spirit with a mere grazing touch, or a lingering gaze. The monster that beat inside Will’s chest trashed in want to be with Hannibal’s own, unsatisfied with every moment they were not pressed together in some shape of form, even if by a light brush of hands, or lips upon a forehead. Mates. That’s what they were. One and the same, perfectly made for each other in all their destructive beauty, never one without the other.

That is true, dear Will, Hannibal had answered, warm pools of amber eyes boring into Will’s very soul. And if I die, you die too.

We won’t survive separation again.

So it was, so it is, and so it will be. Being separated from Hannibal would be to have his very soul ripped out from his body, and he knew his fiancée shared the sentiment. They would murder any and all standing in their way back to each other, or die trying. And a death suffered by hands other than each other's was heresy. It would not happen.

‘Please, my darling boy,’ Hannibal pleaded, fingers digging into Will’s mess of brown curls. ‘Please, please. Undo me, my heart, my love, mia vita-.’

He stuttered in his words, moaning languidly and hoarse.

This was going to be the end of Will. Hannibal, with that sultry voice of his dripping with pleasure, with sweat glistening on his tan skin, with his strong, broad chest heaving with each gasp and ecstatic sound, with strands of golden and silver falling messily on his forehead, with his beautiful, noble facial features contorted in bliss, and hazel eyes boring into Will’s very soul, asking for permission to cum. It was too much.

The younger man pulled away briefly from his fiancée’s cock with a lewd pop.

‘Cum for me, baby, and keep your eyes on me. Need to watch you,’ he conceded, at last, the use of the pet name Hannibal claimed to hate but melted every time it was spoken being intentional in its purpose of getting the other man to give himself in to Will.

With that, his mouth was back at Hannibal’s hard, leaking member, resuming the previous suction movements, humming and moaning. The fingers in his hair twisted hard as the doctor came with a cry for Will spilling from his lips. Warm liquid filled Will’s mouth and throat in waves, and when Hannibal held his head down and thrust into his lips, he moaned.

Euphoria hit him right then and there, unexpectedly so. His eyes shut as it washed over him, lips still wrapped around his fiancée’s cock. The orgasm held enough intensity to send tremors coursing through his body, to whiten his vision, and for a moment, he saw Heaven; it had Hannibal’s honey-eyes, his blonde, soft hair with grey skins, and the protruding apples of his cheeks. Or perhaps it was Hell that he saw, because his beloved had black feathered wings and blood on his divinely sculpted place.

Hell was a much better place to be, anyhow. Hell was freeing. Hell was home.

When Will opened his eyes again, he was met with his Devil staring at him, a soft, fond smile on his lovely pouty lips. There was a finger stroking his cheek gently.

‘Hello, Will,’ Hannibal greeted, voice warm and loving.

He pulled off the older man’s cock with another pop, earning himself a hiss. Will allowed himself to be pulled upwards, onto his fiancée’s waiting lap. When Hannibal brought him in for a slow, sensual kiss, he yielded automatically. He had made a mess of himself inside the expensive grey pants, but he did not care. All he cared about was Hannibal; his touch, his scent, his tongue. Will guided his hands to rest at the older man’s shoulders, gripping with just enough intentional force to bruise.

Marks were part of their demonstrations of love and worship, after all.

Begrudgingly, they broke apart, simply because they needed to breathe. Will thought it was absurd that they could not live off each other and nothing else. Nothing else was necessary. Sometimes he wondered what they could do if they were not bound by these suits of flesh—that was a very Hannibal thought, he realised. It made him smile.

‘What?’ asked his Il Mostro with a smile.

‘Just thinking about how sometimes I think like you. Sometimes I’ll have these very specific thoughts that are as well-articulated as your speech, and I wonder if you’ve not just found a way to whisper them inside my brain.’

Hannibal chuckled. He lifted a hand to brush chestnut curls away from Will’s forehead, letting his thumb stroke the scar there.

‘I can say the same myself. Often I hear your voice inside my head, even displaying some of your signature bluntness, speaking words which are so unlike me, and yet I would never usher it away. You did say we are conjoined once, darling. I believe that now more than ever. We are one.’

The blond man brought him down for another kiss. Will’s chest grew warm with his words, searing him from the inside out. Loving Hannibal Lecter was beautiful destruction.

‘I love you. You know that, don’t you? Love you more than anything,’ Will breathed. He kissed his fiancée’s forehead, nose, cheeks, then his lips.

‘As do I, mylimasis. Forevermore. In this life and in what may follow.’

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