#something something names have power something something the hero needs a mother’s blessing

[percyjaczon]

thinking about how percy’s mother named him after perseus, one of the only greek heroes to have had a happy ending, in hopes that her son would avoid the tragedy that befell most heroes and instead have a long and fulfilling life. and how she told him that he would not only be a hero, but be the greatest hero of all. and how percy was ultimately declared to have risen above every hero in tlo and saw that he will live a long life and is implied that he will die peacefully.

thinking about how jason’s mother didn’t even want to name him jason and how he was only named after the greek hero in order to abate a goddess’s wrath. how that still wasn't enough, so she ended up abandoning him to the gods as a sacrifice of sorts. and how the main purpose of jason’s entire life from that point was to be in service of the gods. how jason the hero died miserable and alone. and how jason spent his last months adrift from everything and everyone he once knew and loved, and ultimately died alone.

#something something names have power something something the hero needs a mother’s blessing #lately i’ve ​been thinking abt the relationship btwn a hero and their mortal parent and going crazy #sally jackson #percy jackson #beryl grace #jason grace #hmm i think i’ll add on to this in a few days i have more thoughts

[strawberryvanillablast]

Hi! May i request Giorno confessing to his crush( fem preferably )?

Let's say his crush has been there for him when he was down and helped him a lot.

Of course! Thank you for the request! I hope you enjoy reading it!

Through Thick and Thin (Giorno Giovanna X Female!Reader)

He remembered the first time you two met.

It was a chilly autumn night, where the leaves were changing colors and he was shivering from the biting cold despite him wearing such long sleeves. Leaning against one of the school's many balconies, it was definitely one of those melancholy moods where all he could do was just stare at the full moon and reminisce about his life so far. He couldn't help but resent his mother and stepfather whenever he was reminiscing. Even though his hero made them stop their behavior...

"Hey there," A girl's voice pleasantly called out to him. "You okay?"

"Hm?"

He turned to see a girl leaning against another school balcony in the school tracksuit. She had (h/l) (h/c) hair that shone faintly in the pale moonlight with her (e/c) eyes blinking calmly. He only gave a tiny nod before turning to face the rest of the school, the moon still shining.

"You seemed kind of down," The girl continued. "So, I thought to give you some company. After all, looking at the moon is nice with friends to talk to, right?"

He turned back to her with an eyebrow raised. A friend, she said? She didn't even know him at all. But he wasn't going to protest much at all if she wanted to think that way. After all, she was right about having a friend to share some time with.

"Sorry," She apologized sheepishly, outstretching her hand. "I forgot to introduce myself. My name's [Y/N]. [Y/N] [L/N]. What's yours?"

"I'm Giorno Giovanna," He introduced as he returned her handshake. "It's very nice to meet you too."

From that point onward, the relationship with [Y/N] was a blessing he treasured each and every day. When he was struck with the fever, the only thing that would soothe him was [Y/N]'s smile and laughter. If he had a bad day, seeing and being with [Y/N] cheered him up rapidly.

And he made sure that he would give his all whenever [Y/N] was sick, down, or otherwise not feeling her regular happy-go-lucky self. After all, that's what friends do for each other. Be there for each other both in the good times and the bad.

However, as time slowly went by, it was becoming clear to him that it was more than just friendship he was feeling towards [Y/N]. His heart beating rapidly, the blush rising to his cheeks immediately, butterflies in his stomach.

Giorno Giovanna was in love with [Y/N].

He sighed as he placed an arm over his eyes, reminiscing of the times where [Y/N] was there for him. He remembered his horrible fever, of a dangerous spike in his body temperature, when he saw [Y/N] carrying some snacks to help him while he recovered. He remembered both of them having a nice hairstyle party when his hair inexplicably turned a golden hue. And he remembered the time that he showed his power: turning her pencil into a ladybug and back again.

He sat up in his bed, clenching his fists in determination. He needed to confess to [Y/N] before it was too late, before he had regrets. As a last-minute internal pep talk to himself, he gave himself one glance-over in the mirror.

'I can do this,' He thought, trying to calm himself down. 'I can do this.'

As he walked over to the usual meeting place with [Y/N], he'd not one single clue of the internal turmoil that [Y/N] herself was having. She'd liked Giorno ever since the day she met him and this could have been her last chance to confess. She was nervous, fidgeting, trying to calm herself down.

'I have to confess to him,' [Y/N] thought to herself. 'I have to! Before it turns into regret. After all, he's my greatest friend and I want it to be a little bit more now.'

At the meeting spot, at exactly 3:13 p.m. on a beautiful Friday, Giorno Giovanna and [Y/N] met up to talk about something rather important.

#jojo's bizzare adventure #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo kimyou na bouken #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jojo no kimyō na bōken #jjba part 5 #jojo part 5 #jjba pt 5 #jojo pt 5 #vento aureo #jjba vento aureo #golden wind #jjba golden wind #giorno giovanna #giorno #giorno giovanna x reader #giorno x reader #giorno giovanna x y/n #giorno x y/n

[funeralprocessor]

Gah, I wish I was better at writing. Like not just my actual skill but just like actually sticking to it and editing and revising and all that shit. I've been thinking about some cool characters I want to do *something* with and unfortunately they only live in *my* head for the moment so tragically the burden falls to me. A bit more about them under the cut for those interested. It's a bit rambling so apologies

Okay, so the nucleus of this whole thing is Benthe, Reverend Mother Dolorous Benthe of the Ashmarch to her enemies; Ugly, Horse(face), or Bones to her friends. She's a kind of necromancer nun (predates tlt I swear) turned detective- turned Athame (basically a specialized handler for high risk high/ power individuals, descended from the squire-minder-killswitches of ancient demigod princes). She's a religious official in the same way that Harry DuBois is a detective: only involuntarily and under much duress, though she is extremely good at it when push comes to shove. She became a church backed Athame primarily because it comes with a lot of leeway for behavior and very little official oversight, but enjoys doing it even if she wouldn't admit it.

-Mid 50s, weathered and scarred but takes good care of herself

-Tall bordering on lanky, wiry, way more agile than people expect

-Multiple reliquary prosthetics, made of saint's bones: Both legs (left at knee, right at hip), right arm (at elbow), several fingers on left hand (pinky, ring, and middle). Thin network of scars on her face and torso where her living bones were inscribed with wards.

-Has a reputation for being solemn and intimidating, but is primarily just very awkward and has learned not to speak more than necessary. People who actually get close to her find her prickly and very particular but also extremely devoted to those she cares about (some would say possessive or needy), quick-witted (some would say flippant and rude), and quickly angered at cruelty and injustice

-Necromancer in the classical sense. Good at dealing with troubled souls, both dead and (begrudgingly) living. Got her start as a mourner, a type of exorcist who resolves the issues of ghosts/undead. She kept solving murders in the process and became known as both a nuisance and a hero to the uncared for. Eventually her vigilante justice got pressure put on her superiors and she got stapled to a desk for several years until she opted into being an Athame

-Very impressive in a fight, as in it's a spectacle. Style is sweeping and flowing staff fighting/kickboxing heavy, basically a type of ceremonial dance learned as a nun combined with the rough and tumble staff fighting her sheppard mother taught her long ago. Her weapon is a yew staff with bone and lead caps and some streaming prayer cloths. She mostly just smashed people with it, but can form blades of ghostly energy from the bone plates along it's length if she needs. She's not very good at it though. Her pranic/magical technique is very efficient but workmanlike and not good for gross/flashy effects. It's a tool, not art, and exists basically only as long as it needs to.

-Her name is in fact Horsefaced Benthe, bc she comes from a culture where people are given unflattering if not outright insulting formal nicknames. Their kind of parent cultural group gives children names like "Gracious Aratyam", "Wisdom-Eyed Tsiblis", or "Evenhand Tam" as blessings/aspirations, but up north they like to keep people humble

------

So that's the old woman. Her crew are far less well defined bc Benthe's been kicking around in my head for a while. But tentatively we also have

-Rambling Ykaterinja Fossë, a blatant wish fulfillment self insert renaissance woman academic turned warlock. She bound herself to a spirit known as the Brocken she encountered while on an archeological dig in the mountains because it promised what she never knew she always wanted (to be graceful, enthralling, and free from her own doubts) and Kat makes bad decisions. She got caught by the church after she returned to the city and, high on power and ritual deliriants, drove several cafes worth of people to madness (maybe they were predisposed to madness) though she insisted she was "just talking a little harder than normal"

-Grisha Tav-Rami, who's a little harder to explain. To be a bit Reddit she's Act 1 Shadowheart by way of Faulkner Silt Verses with a side of . She grew up in an insular cult in an already very insular culture under the thumb of an imperialist power. The cult wound up in the crosshairs of the government after the governor's son picked a fight with some locals and got killed for his trouble. Grisha's older brother got picked up in the subsequent sweep and accidentally let too much slip. He informed on the cult in exchange for a promise of leniency for him and his family. There was little offered, and the cult was basically raided into oblivion after many many years. Grisha's family were broken up and she spent her adolescence in church custody, where she first met Benthe, then in her early 30s and recently chastened and forced into a clerical role. Neither really knew the other particularly well, but it was enough that when years later Grisha, now essentially a church janissary and immensely conflicted about her history, sees an opportunity to be assigned to Benthe and potentially get answers, or at least a very cathartic way to begin her career as a deserter, she jumps at the opportunity. Also like she's kind of like an orca seal sea monster person but only a little and not in a "cute" way. Think like innsmouth people if they were whales instead of fish, sorta. She's still human but Amala has a much broader definition of humanity.

-Vashti Ten-Horse-Killer. Still kind of figuring her out her whys and wheres but I've got a pretty solid grasp on the who. She's a former outlaw bandit type who went legit for love, only to have the relationship kind of fall apart and Vashti become Extremely Divorced. Her ex, who initially helped her get established, had her blacklisted (though her distaste and distress from essentially being a private cop for nobles and corporations being one of the factors in the relationship breakdown this maybe wasn't necessary) and her reputation in the criminal world was shot twice over, she did odd jobs until eventually getting into Benthe's orbit somehow. I have a *very* clear image of her but I'm not sure how to describe. She's Ashvartan, so like think kind of central-south asian sorta? I don't really know how to describe fictional ethnicities without sounding weird, you know? But she's early 30s, less short more compact, very functional strength kind of build. Very sort of swaggery and cocky when she's drunk, standoffish and stone faced when she's not. Has a lot of tattoos in varying styles she's picked up over the years, including an elaborate knotwork mandala thing on her head. She normally keeps it shaved or mostly shaved to show it off, but it also serves as sort of a litmus for how she's doing bc it grows fast and it's one of the first things she stops giving a shit about maintaining when she's in a bad way.

-Ahmbasha Lin Hailu-Ssef, who is basically the least fleshed out and much more vibes than anything concrete. She's an aristocrat of some sort, laying low to avoid people working for her family trying to kidnap her for some reason and living under a false identity. Maybe larger things are afoot and she's kind of the instigator of whatever plotline. @gwynbleidd892 I'm borrowing a bit of Aratyam here if you don't mind. She was originally just another take on that guy who was with Vashti in our campaign but Aratyam has sort of bled in.

But yeah, that's it. If you read this, thank you and if you have any thoughts I'd love to know

#I've got some cool stuff kicking around though #I've got characters I've got a world now I just need something for them to actually do in it #also I'll love you forever if you ask me about any of it so <3 #the whole idea basically came from me being unable to quite put down an NPC from an older tabletop campaign #and other characters I came up with sort of gravitated towards her #and now we're here #sorry if this is poorly written or rambling #I'm high but thats rhe best way to overcome stage fright

[annmarcus63]

I'm deeply curious to know how you might fix the fox-thing for the post-mountain fight because I can see jask forgiving geralt yet refusing to follow or shift now that he "knows" how much of a curse he is. I feel like that would leave its mark and wonder how their relationship might change because of it

Gosh, it took me so long to reply, but I got a small scene for you dear anon. It's not precisely the answer you're looking for but a part of it. Mix Jaskier and Geralt POV, hope it's not too confusing.

This is part of this post FoxJaskier

...A fox! I should have known. If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands!

Geralt stands at the edge of the mountain, stern looking face and clenched fists. The wind's howling. Cold spikes seep into the exposed skin of his neck and face and he feels fine, perfectly fine. He wanted to hurt Jaskier, to finally drove him away. He succeeded by crossing a line, a delicate yet resilient line that bard and witcher have built thru the years by truly and deeply trust in each other. Jaskier love him despite his monstrous side, despite everything. Geralt loves him too, love the fox inside the bard, so... why did he cut so deep? Why? A simple fuck off would have been enough, so why did he have to be a monster? By the time Geralt turns and strides up the hill it's almost dark. The last blink of the sun illuminating the rock in a soft blue and gray hue. He needs to fix this. If Jaskier have been the one to shout his monstrosity back to him, Geralt'd have die... but Jaskier would never do that. Jaskier is not a monster. Geralt tracks the bard in the dark, even though he knows there's no way to fix this, he went too far. He lost his fox, his beautiful fox.

Jaskier is walking on the path with light footsteps, he needs to find a place to camp but, well...he doesn't care that much anymore. He's bleeding a great deal, dark warm blood leaving a trace behind, metaphorically, of course. There's no apparent wound on him, but he feels like dying. His fox trembles and cries uncontrollably inside his chest, Jaskier doesn't cry. He thought, both of them, that they were safe with Geralt. Geralt is...was...home. His mother words come back to him, warning him to never show what he truly is or else...

His legs walk on their own, this body is no longer his, he's the ghost of a monster. His fox whimpers inside his ribcage and Jaskier feels sorry for him, it believed Geralt loved him, not romantically but... what a moron. Naive stupid fox.

And then he hears his name

"Jaskier!" Geralt. His fox crawls and tries to hide. The witcher calls and calls for him.

"What do you want, Geralt? You forgot to say something? There's no need, I'm leaving."  As seeing a play, Jaskier sees a hand on his shoulder because he can't feel anymore, he realizes he's in shock.

Geralt tries to talk to him, to make him stop and listen but Jaskier keeps going. The moon illuminating the path, the unforgiving wind singing a cruel song for them. He has to fix this. He runs past Jaskier, a couple of meters so Jaskier can see him before he passes. The witcher calls to his true form, his shape mends into a four-leg animal, a white wolf. The bard stops dead on his tracks. The wolf whines as it bends his neck in a clear sign of reverence, its ears flat on its head, the snout between its powerful paws. To be reverenced by an animal form it is a custom from old tales of worthy heroes and kings. The white wolf cries and the sound shakes Jaskier's bones. Jaskier approaches the wolf, he has waited all his life to see Geralt's form, but this wasn't how he imagine it. The white wolf begs him for forgiveness and prays his regret in deep whimpers. Jaskier kneels in front of the magnificent animal. The wolf stands and tries to touch him with its snout, but Jaskier avoids it. They locked eyes for a moment and then Jaskier says "You're beautiful" just how I imagine you'd be "Goodbye, Geralt" The wolf whines one last time before his fox, his beautiful and perfect pack fox walks away from him.

What Geralt does it's considered a great honour. Something that Geralt would never have thought he would do for anyone not even Yennefer. and Jaskier knows this, that's why he tells him he's beautiful. Jaskier trust is broken severely so, but Geralt would keep trying to prove himself worthy of have a fox by his side.

Maybe Geralt would follow Jaskier around in his wolf form, idk, i want to write more of this, i'd like to know your ideas.

#geralt x jaskier #geraskier #the witcher #jaskier #geralt of rivia #geralt #foxjaskier #i love foxes #sorry for the angst #i'm that kind of person

[hpdabbles]

Can u do an identity reveal of Harry from 'how to break a timeline ', potters or Reg noticing how similar bby Harry (as he grows) looks to our Harry, how bby Harry instantly calms down with Harry nearby. No pressure to write tho, I'm just too invested in it😅

Regulus always wondered about his husband's past. He hasn't learned anything about it, even after all the years they have been married.

Their tenth anniversary was next week, and he still did not know Harry by anything but his married name. Though privately, he always suspected it was Potter. His love looked far too much like the Potters to not be one.

Harry is redundant to speak about his past, but Regulus knows if he asked, Harry would tell him. He just...never found the time.

The war took first priority because their marriage had been built on Harry needing a legal way to take down Voldemort. Then it was stabilizing the family's image without taking credit for the Dark Lord's defeat- apparently, Harry claimed nothing good could come from being famous for taking down the dark lord.

After that, it was fixing his relationship with his brother, rebuilding Uncle Alphard's company, and finally caring for his brother's godson.

They stayed busy, Harry like a hurricane moving from one place to the other with no warning and leaving chaos in his wake. Regulus followed him everywhere, awed by his husband and falling just a little deeper in love every time.

To try and tie someone like that down by something as unimportant as a mysterious past would be a crime.

It hardly matters to Regulus on most days, being too darn happy with his love, but he will admit his Slytherin mind kept him wondering at night.

He had some theories.

Harry is an illegitimate Potter child. Hidden by his muggle mother to protect him from his magical family. Maybe she thought they would hurt him even though the Potters were known for supporting such children.

Harry is a Seer. He saw what would happen, but unlike most seers, he didn't believe in letting things be. Harry would carve his own future. He also seemed to know far too much, even if he claimed he had always been able to figure out secrets.

Harry is the Dark Lord's son. His Parselmouth appearance and magic were similar to Voldemort's. Again he knew far too much to not have a fair warning of how Voldemort worked.

Harry is magic personified. His husband is a wonder in far too many ways not to somehow be a blessing of magic. Magically powerful, beautiful, intelligent, and confused by humans' customs. Harry stumbled a lot over slang used by his fellow humans, and some mannerisms made his nose wrinkle.

He had never spoken about these theories with Harry; somehow, they felt both too personal and unimportant to breach the subject with him. But Regulus watched, recorded what he saw, and then filed the evidence for each theory deep within his mind.

Regulus leaned more toward theories two and three for various reasons. The more he got used to Harry, the more he felt that his husband lived in a different time.

Little references to things that did not exist, only to be surprised when they are introduced to the world a year or two later, made-up slang that grew popular but not by Harry, and sometimes just actions that made Regulus feel like there was a generational gap between them despite Harry insisting on his age being the same as Regulus.

"Love, can I ask you something?" Regulus whispers, careful not to be too loud least he wakes Little Harry.

If someone would have told him ten years ago that Regulus would regularly be babysitting for James Potter, he would have laughed in their face. Now he is mindful of the ten-year-old comfortably snoozing on his husband's chest. The child had fallen asleep while Harry read to him the story of the Mask Hero, defeater of He Should Not Be Named.

Harry's bright green eyes swing to him from over the little head with a raised brow. "Hmm?"

For a moment, Regulus forgets why he called out to him, suddenly struck by the image of his husband cuddling a child that could be a miniature copy of him, and he wonders if they should try for a child soon.

Harry could carry, or they could adopt. Regulus would be happy with either.

"What's up Regs?" Harry asks in that strange but endearing way of talking.

"Would you like a child?" He blurts without meaning to and has the pleasure of watching his normally hard-to-tease husband turn bright red.

"Wha-what brought this on?" Harry asks while carefully retucking the blanket around Little Harry more. Regulus' heart skips a beat.

"I just realized that you would be a great father. You act like one already to Little Harry, knowing what he needs, what makes him happy, and you two look so alike it isn't hard to picture-!" Regulus snaps his mouth shut as his words register in his mind. "You look alike. Your magic is the same....Merlin...Harry, are you Little Harry?!"

There is a pause where the two stare at each other. The fire in the fireplace cracks in silence, and only Little Harry's tiny mumbles- he sleeps talks- could be heard. His question hangs in the air, choking him in suspense as suddenly everything makes so much sense, but at the same time, nothing does.

Suddenly Harry grins, mischief and death dancing around his lips, and Regulus falls again. "You really are the brightest wizard of your time. Yeah, Regs, I'm Harry Potter from an alternative time Line."

Regulus chuckles nervously, and then his eyes roll back into his head. Harry's urgent call of his name is the last thing he hears as he gives into his shock and falls unconscious.

Life is never dull when Harry Black- apparently nee Potter is around.

#How to break a timeline #Regulus/Harry #hpdabbles #Harry Potter #Little Harry known for years #He just likes naps #Story time is also Cuddle time in the Black household #Mentions of Mpreg

[ofirongrace]

Because @etfuturist want this, this is how A.J turns out if she loses her father.

She has the potential, greatness runs in her blood. The intelligence she has surpasses many , but what does it matter now that he's gone ? Her mother tries, bless her. Tries to raise a daughter strong in a world where it seems nothing goes right and when it does it's ripped away in an instant.

A.J tries to remember her father through magazines, videos, the hologram he left behind but none of that fills the void he left. There are no words for teaching moments, no warm hugs in heartbreaks that follow. There are just memories she doesn't have and the ones she does grow faded over time.

She's failing in her classes not because she doesn't know the material, but because she doesn't care. Everyone holds her to that Stark Standard but what does it even mean when the standard died to save them all.

Some continue to speak highly of him, one of the greats. Some continue to speak poorly about him, what a fool he was. As his daughter she hears all of it, everyone trying to formulate her opinion of her father for her. But AJ's opinion is a simple one.

He's dead, so what does it even matter? He chose the world and she hates it. Even though for the better and gave her a chance to live life she hates it. She's angry , heartbroken. They say time heals all wounds and yet absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Emotions contradict each other.

She hears the stories from her mother, her uncles, her aunts and yet it's not the same as having him their. Those are their memories not hers. Where is the man who read to her at night, who stole snacks with her at one in the morning ? He's gone. He's been gone. He always will be gone.

She bottles up her feelings and follows the wrong crowds. Colleges that once wanted her for her name no longer want her due to her record. Not like she needs those colleges ; she's smart enough without the degree. She doesn't need to be taught by those who praise her because of her father or try to question her genius. What she needs is her dad. But he's dead.

Miranda tries but it's hard being a single mom. Motherhood was something she always wanted but she never thought she'd be going it alone. A.J doesn't fault her mother - she knows her mother would have brought him back if she had that kind of power. She knows her mother would have turned the world upside down to bring him back.

But he's not back , he's still gone. And there is a void that has filled only with anger and resentment over the years. Her father a hero, sacrificed everything for the world. And the world continues to talk of him as though all he ever was was Iron Man.

Not a husband, not a father. And she doesn't want that legacy.

#* // ➤ study

[gxldings]

Deadline of a Dream

A lost one, with no home to return to, makes his appearance among the living.

Reality marbles and warps, tears away to void-colored shades of purple. A hole blacker than the deepest depths emerges, threatening to swallow the world. Eerie vibrations blows from it, like the distorted wind of another realm. Its form is by no means corporeal; one cannot touch it and feel matter, but it produces light and shadow. It disrupts the natural order of things until its circumference reaches its apex, then it stabilizes. The gateway is formed, behind our hero of interest in this story: Ymir.

The Dragon of Life, blessed with the infinite power to protect and nourish, how pathetic that you would be made a pawn here in the Order of Heroes. How ironic that you would be dead, only to be brought back with powers greater than your own.

The portal flashes a bright light, and from it emerges a walking corpse. He is a hulking beast of a man, bearing no signs of sweet life that he once wore with pride. His footsteps are heavy with the burden of thousands slain, his fearsome armor and weaponry clanking to add to the symphony of his approach. Blue mist bellows from beneath his mask, fattening and shortening as though it is his breath. But what a cheap imitation of life he is! He cannot breathe, cannot choke, cannot warm another with the heat of a mortal body. He is Lif, the Lethal Swordsman, and he seeks the power of the Life Mother.

“Fallen goddess,” he starts, the moment the steps through the gate, “who bears no bond with the eternal pantheon. Yours is the infinite well of life that I seek.” The man needs no introduction, for what he is means more than who. He is a dread reconstruction of Hel’s--a fiend born of the power opposite to Ymir. Perhaps, by merely seeing his accursed form, she would take pity on him. Perhaps that pity could move her to act, to give him that which he pines so dearly for. Lif can only hope.

“Name your price. I shall go to the darkest corners of the world if it is what you desire: I have done worse.” Crimson-stained eyes pull into a scowl as they stare at the woman in front of them. The voice from this man--cutthroat and monotone--is muffled by the mask he wears over his face. It makes his speech all the more unsettling, but he shows no intention of removing it. What he is now, a monster, cannot be shown to those who do not share his fate. He cannot bear the shame and embarrassment he’d feel if others looked upon his undead jaw with sorrow. The filter over his voice would be something Ymir must learn to deal with. 

“What I ask for in return is that my realm be saved. You have the power to grant life unending, so grant it to those wronged by Hel.” 

// Lif at Ymir; starter for @sunsinger

#IC #GILDING ⅩⅫ (LIF) #YMIR THREAD (DEADLINE OF A DREAM) #SUNSINGER

[bokettochild]

I absolutely want to hear about it! I love it when people talk about their special interests because they’re always so passionate and that makes it more interesting! I’m trying to write my own novel on the side, but I haven’t worked on it in a while. But I always love talking about that kind of stuff! :)

Well, I did warn you :)

The idea I wanted to pursue is that there is a world, not like ours, and not quite like any other either, This place is called Lofdar, and in it there is a great empire over which many lords and ladies, dukes and duchesses and any other number of nobles are fighting for.

The king of the empire has been absent for some time and many believe him to be dead, after all, he was quite old when last anyone saw him and it just makes sense that he'd've passed on by now. He does have a son, but his son is also absent and no one knows what's become of him over the years.

Hence a power struggle.

In the midst of all the fighting, there is a young boy (because girls are hard to write despite my being one) who is living in the country with his grandmother and two younger brothers. His paternal grandfather is a high lord and his father a great knight, but because the family is so busy, they allow their children to be raised by this kid's maternal grandmother, as is custom.

Kid is a bright little thing, although a bit odd and not quite human, although he's not entirely aware of that. As far as he knows, he just looks weird, and while he gets lots of flack for it, his grandmother and brothers are very supportive and he's relatively happy.

This kid (who's name is Leleo) is really close to his grandmother and brothers, and spends a lot of his days nerding out with his siblings about anchient heroes and legends, and his nights stargazing on the roof of his house until his Nana finds him, scolds him, joins him, and then sends him off to bed.

He's only just beginning to learn about his Nana's culture (because she and his mother aren't exactly human either) when invading forces from one of the other provinces attack their town. His Nana entrusts him with getting his siblings back to their parents, as well as anyone else he can help, while she joins the other village people in trying to defend themselves (being inhuman, Nana is still quite strong and spry and puts up a darn good fight).

Leleo takes his brothers to their parents, but only after reports of the attack have already reached them. The village was destroyed and most of the inhabitants taken as prisoners/slaves by the invading troops, Leleo's Nana among them.

This kid is obviously heartbroken and begs his knight father to try and save her, after all, they still have a chance while the enemy is behind their lines and they can't just abandon her, right?

Wrong.

Leleo's father makes it clear that it isn't worth it for one woman, much less one town, and the lord, Leleo's grandfather, tells him on no uncertain terms that he should consider it a blessing his witch of a grandmother is no longer bringing a curse on their land.

Naturally, this upsets our little hero (who's like twelve) but he knows better than to speak back (and is more than a little scared of his grandfather, since he knows the man hates him as well as his Nana).;p He doesn't listen to them though, even if he keeps his mouth shut about it.

See, this kid knows all the ancient legends and stories, including those about the fabled prince of the kingdom who will defend any innocent victim and all that jazz. Kid gets it in his head that he just needs to find the prince to get help in rescuing his grandma and the village people. He is, however, convinced that he needs to do something to be worth the Prince's time, since this man must have a lot going on, and so he embarks on a quest to find one of the fabled blades of the Heroes of Unity, which if he can collect, will prove that he is, at the very least, someone people should listen to instead of disregarding and talking over because he is a child and not human.

So, our tiny little hero sets off alone on a quest to, in a round about way, save the only adult who ever given a fig for him. Naturally, he's clueless and walks right into danger and get's captured himself, but that's the jist of how this whole book/series would start out.

I've been working out a plot and motivation for years since I created Leleo. Granted, he has gone through a few names, some truly anime level BS backstory writing and a ridiculous amount of trauma in that time, but I'm finally happy with how this is all starting, I just need to get the energy to write it and find an audience who isn't already sick of it lol

There's a ton of lore I worked out, past heroes, histories, customs, cultures, regions and provinces, other characters, their histories, their traumas and cultures and supporting characters. Honestly, I've tried so many world-builders for this and my brain is still full of rot. If you were in any way interested by this, I will 100% welcome questions, because I am happy to share it!

#lofdar legends #not lu #ketto's original works #asks and answers

[roseunspindle]

Replaced

When shortly after the war against Gaia, Percy ascends to godhood essentially on his own, no one is surprised. (Deeply pissed off yes, in some cases, but not surprised) Annabeth opts to become a Hunter in order to annoy (be his best friend) him for eternity. 

It is and isn’t surprising that Percy is a very, very powerful young god, with many domains, riptides, fault lines, divine oaths, loyalty, demigods, heroes (and if he is to be believed, pink poodles) he already has a few symbols to call his own, blue food being the main thing so far. But a black pegasus had already been linked to him as well. 

The thing is, a few of his domains butted into Heracles’ and as Heracles was considered and embarrassment and eyesore to many a god, he starts fading, and Percy can’t be bothered to care.

Now Percy tends to avoid parties, especially on Olympus in favor of spending time at camp half-blood or camp Jupiter to spend time with the demigods he was a protector of. 

It’s just, when he did show up, often for important meetings where his main goal in life was to annoy Zeus and Ares (according to them) Hebe couldn’t help but notice him. 

He was wild and handsome and... well, he’d even said thank you, when she brought him a drink. 

She’s fair certain Heracles doesn’t even remember her name, if barely reacted when she gave birth to Alexiares and Anicetus. She did care for her sons, but still... the father

She makes a point to be noticed by Percy as best she can and to her delight, he consents to dance with her at a smaller fete on Olympus celebrating the completion of another temple, designed by the huntress Annabeth Chase. 

She starts seeking him out more and more and finds, he’s likeable, not just kind to random goddesses but likable and he remembers her. 

Feeling brave, she goes to her mother, who has never been pleased about her being wed to a bastard of Zues’ anyway and pleads her case. Hera listens and promises that should Zues and Poseidon agree to it and Percy willingly agrees (because it won’t go anywhere if he doesn’t), the Hera will grant and bless the marriage.

Hebe isn’t too worried about her father really, he does dote on her and while he doesn’t like Perseus he’d much rather forget Heracles altogether more often than not, so it isn’t hard to gain his (begrudging) blessing. 

She goes to camp half-blood where Percy is monitoring a sword lesson for some of the newer arrivals and feels hope in her chest when he turns to smile at her, a few campers also wave at her, accustomed to her appearing at the young gods side.

She waits until the lesson ends and as the stroll along the beach, Percy quietly waiting for her to speak, seemingly knowing she has something on her mind.

Haltingly she broaches the subject, and Percy, Percy smiles, wide and happy. 

They have two wedding, one on Olympus and one at the boundary of camp half-blood so that Percy’s mother, step-father and little sister might attend. Her sons attend both and seem accepting of her choice, which pleases her. 

(does she need to send an eagle with a divorce letter to Heracles? No...but she does.)

#Percy x Hebe #Percy Jackson #Hebe

[farkasfenrikson]

‘ oh, please take me to one of those taverns the guards frequent! they look so quaint, farkas! ’

This is not where Farkas had anticipated spending his evening if you had asked him earlier that day. Did he anticipate being with the princess? Yes, every day he spent with royal woman. But in the heart of the capital city? In a tavern? This was most unexpected. Once the pair had managed to sneak outside the palace walls, like they occasionally did if all could be timed correctly, she had insisted that this was where she wanted to go. She thought they were…quaint, as she had described it, though many in the city were anything but. They were seedy and full of shady citizens. But she was curious as to why so many loved such institutions, and as such, he had chosen to take to her to one of the more popular ones, if not the most popular of all. One that many werewolves frequented, as it laid on the edge of the city, where many wolves lived.

Taking her inside, Athea posed as an ordinary citizen. Without her beautiful jewels and dresses, she could pass as a normal fae, able to converse and move freely as she chose. And that was the greatest gift Farkas had ever given her: freedom. Holding the door open for her, he watched her walk inside, the princess’ face lighting up at the sight. Funny, taverns were such mundane places, but her purple eyes danced around with excitement. The building glowed with the light of the fireplace and torchlight, as both men and women, mostly werewolves, gathered around tables and stools in deep discussion, drinking the city’s finest mead. In the corner, a man strummed away peacefully on his lute, until he took notice of the solider.

Loklan was a local bard, well known and beloved for his constant ability to always find a new tale to tell when it seemed the world had run out. He was a dear friend of Farkas’ mother, Tala, so had watched the young soldier grow up. Smiling, he wandered over to the pair to greet. “Farkas, my boy! Good to see you, it’s been some time.” Turning to Athea, his smile grew, “And my, what a beautiful, young lady you have graced us with this evening. Welcome.” The man spoke softly, bowing his head gently towards Athea in greeting. Oblivious of her true identity, he simply treated her as another passerby, but perhaps that’s what the princess needed. To live a normal day.

“We don’t receive many faeries in our part of town, my lady. Say, would you care for a melody? You’ve come to the tavern most famous for them, after all.” Hearing her say yes! in excitement, the man smiled, before looking looking at the two younger beings. “Perhaps… a song about Fenrir? Something to indulge your faerie ears into the world of the wolves?” Upon hearing that she didn’t know who Fenrir was, his eyes widened a little in surprise. “You’ve never heard of Fenrir? I’m surprised your friend here has never told you. I say, you must hear this, it’s a fascinating little tale.”

“Centuries ago, during the First Civil War, there was great warrior who lived in the high mountains with his clan. His name was Fenrir. When the war began, his land was threatened by the soliders from the Moors who had ravaged many of the other towns and villages nearby. Worried that his family and clan were next, one evening under a full moon, he prayed to the powers beyond, unsure of who would answer, but asked for protection and support in his time of need. Who answered? The moon herself!”

“She blessed Fenrir with the power to turn into a great beast, bigger and stronger than any of the wolves we see today. In return, she asked that he used his gift for good, protecting the nature around him that without her, we would not have. And as your friend here should know, that promise continues for all wolves today. Fenrir went on to be a great hero, saving his tribe from the danger and rising the ranks to serve the first royal family himself. He had many children of his own, who all carried the gift of the wolf — all wolves today are said to be a descendant of Fenrir, after all — and he passed peacefully, buried in his home within the mountains.”

Farkas had heard this story a million times, yet it never grew old. Fenrir was the person he looked up more than anything (beside his father), the hero he aspired to be. Smiling, Loklan nodded, “And perhaps, the most intriguing part of this story is that they say Fenrir’s spirit still walks among us.” He saw the way the young wolf and young fae’s eyes widened. “They say that in times of need for our people, Fenrir’s soul will rise again in the form of another hero, blessed with the same great form he has, and challenge the darkness that may threaten us all. And perhaps he already does! Perhaps he walks among us today,” The man glanced towards Farkas, still smiling, but with a glint of something mysterious in them. Like he knew something no one else did. “We simply don’t know.”

Farkas turned to Athea whose face was full of intrigue, hooked from the story from start to finish. “I shall let you indulge in your evening, friends.” Loklan smiled, nodding and picking his lute back up, returning to the back wall of the tavern. “Interesting, isn’t it?” Farkas commented, allowing her to ramble on and on about how interesting the tale was, how Fenrir reminded her of her personal guard himself. He loved it when she did this, he could listen to her talk for hours about all the things she loved. They were polar opposites, him the calming presence and her the joyous light. “Why, thank you, that means a lot.” He spoke earnestly; being compared to a hero like that was an honour.

Moving to the innkeeper, Farkas found himself ordering two meads, one for himself, and one for the princess, who had insisted on trying such an interesting concoction, as she had put it. He knew she would hate it but bought it for her anyway. Taking her hand, he gently pulled her towards two stools in the corner where they could have some privacy, helping her sit down before he moved beside her. “Look,” He nodded, gesturing towards Loklan who was tuning his lute, “He’s about to begin.”

The tavern quietened a little, eyes on the bard who cleared his throat and stepped forward, “Thank you — this melody is titled ‘Fenrir the Great’, one of the first songs I ever composed…”

There once was a hero our books called Fenrir,

His posture was tall and his friends held him dear,

When troubles and bloodshed did threaten his home,

He sought a great power from the mothering stone!

The mother herself, she blessed him with a strength,

A wolf he became, sharp and of great length,

The beast of the mountains, that was his new name,

For any who challenged him failed in shame.

The beast and the queen, they did become friends,

And Fenrir himself, he met noble ends,

Buried in the high mountains, his body does spend,

Forever a hero, his name has been penned,

Many years have gone by, and our hero still sleeps,

His children today, they do mourn and they weep,

But don’t be mistaken, his soul still doth prowl,

For Fenrir lives on, in another wolf’s howl!

The tavern clapped loudly, enjoying the song they had heard a thousand times over. It never seemed to get old, but no one applauded as loudly as Athea herself, the girl laughing in delight as she spoke of how marvellous it was, how marvellous the tavern was, how marvellous the… mead was? Oh. No. She absolutely hated that, her face contorting as if she had sucked a sour lemon, struggling to swallow the small sip she had taken. And all Farkas did was chuckle, leaning towards her beaming expression on his face, “You can only take a princess so far. Remind me to sneak out some palace wine for you next time, your highness.”

#answered #idc if its bad #this was fun as fuck

[theoi-crow]

Hello! Correct me if I'm wrong but I believe Hercules' myth involves him being mortal before becoming the god of strength. Does this mean humans can ascend to godhood?

Hi! Sorry for the late reply, I've been busy but this ask is fascinating!

Hercules or Heracles (the Greek version of his name) is a demigod.

His mother, Alcmene, is human, while his father is Zeus. He was already part god like Perseus, Bellerophon and Achilles. Hercules was only able to ascend to godhood because he was already halfway there and while humans like Patroclus and Sappho can be possibly venerated as heroes or past ancestors, ancient Greece is very explicit on making sure that any human who ascends to godhood is a demigod, even if they are said to have a human mother and human father, like the story of Theseus whose human father was Aegeus but many myths claim it was actually Poseidon: (LINK)

So, can humans who are not already demigods ascend to godhood? No, according to the ancient Greeks, they can't.

This does not mean people didn't do extraordinary things, it's just that the ancient Greeks assumed whoever did extraordinary things was a demigod. This happened because when people accomplished something extraordinary in ancient Greece, the public considered that person to be someone who went beyond human limitation and thus considered more than human. People started suspecting a god as a possible parent.

Sometimes the person claiming to be a demigod did it for political reasons, like Alexander the Great who claimed to be the son of Zeus. Did people actually believe him? Not until he was able to prove his superhuman ability by creating one of the largest empires in human history at such a young age and in such a short time: (LINK)

Another thing I want to mention is how important ancestry was to the ancient Greeks.

Every Greek person only had one name and sometimes multiple people had the same name. So in order to differentiate between two people with the same name, their "last name" would be the name of their father, for example: "Theseus son of Aegus."

When someone didn't know who the father was, they would go by the mother's name, but if the person did something extraordinary, then people would start claiming they were the illegitimate child of a god (usually Zeus) and they would speculate and make stories about them emphasizing their status as a demigod (this is one of the reasons why there are a lot of stories about Zeus and rape. To the ancient Greeks, rape ment "going behind the father's back" even if the women wanted to be in a union with the god because to the ancient Greeks women did not have autonomy so their father's permission was very important).

Classifying a person who did the impossible as a demigod was very important to the ancient Greeks for a few reasons:

1. It would create the idea that only living demigods can do impossible things and thus disencourage "regular" humans from thinking they can also do that and thus keeping them in line for the politicians in power who ruled every aspect of their lives.

2. It cemented the idea that the gods still interact with their people and future demigods will be bestowed with their blessings and thus their hometowns would also benefit from said blessings.

3. Adding to reason number 2, it was also used for tourism.

4. It kept the honor of both women and children who didn't have a man claiming to be the head of their household and thus allowed the father of the mother to not have a shamed lineage.

5. It was especially used by kings to keep tyrants from taking over and kept civilians from rising against them for fear they would be cursed by their divine parental figure.

6. It was used to explain the unexplainable and as a way to keep people from thinking they could do something without the influence of a god and thus letting it get to their heads as we see in the cautionary tale of Bellerophon who grew impatient with his accomplishments being accredited to his father Poseidon and people assuming it was because he was a demigod and not because of his own efforts. After growing so frustrated over losing so much personal credit, he demanded a place on Olympus because of all he accomplished and was sent a gadfly by Zeus for using pegasus to force his way into Olympus and thus falling to his death after the gadfly bit pegasus who bucked Bellerophon off: (LINK)

WARNING!!!:

The idea that a human can be a god is very dangerous and one often used by toxic cults forcing their will on others. They push the narrative that someone is the reincarnation of Apollo or the child of Zeus and will use that narrative to try to force people to do things they don't want to do because a living "god" told them to do it.

People who believe they are a god are often described as having a "God Complex" (LINK). Not only is having a god complex dangerous to the person and everyone around them, but it's often associated with an extreme form of narcissism (LINK)

Why are god complexes so dangerous? Every human is fallible. We make mistakes and we grow and learn from those mistakes when we admit to them. People who have god complexes usually believe they are so perfect it's impossible for them to make mistakes so they blame everyone else around them and never take responsibility for themselves. As someone who grew up with very narcissistic adults with god complexes, it's frustrating to be gaslit and blamed for things you never did. They also don't believe in consent or believe they are above needing consent because they are a god and "know better."

If you meet someone claiming to be a god

RUN!

Seriously, run. Everyone has the ability to do and create extraordinary things but people with god complexes do not understand consent or how to respect the will of others because they think they are above other humans. Although I'm not a big fan of Witchtok, here's a little jingle that helps explain more about people with god complexes. (Tw: mentions of violence) (LINK)

Demigods are best left to mythology and storytelling.

They can be very inspiring, but a living "god" is very dangerous because they force their will onto others and are not above intimidation tactics. Here is a list of people who had been worshipped as living gods in the past and this includes Hitler, so you can see why the idea of "living gods" makes me very uncomfortable: (LINK)

These Delphic Maxims address god-complexes:

11) Φρόνει θνητά: Think mortal thoughts.

141) Εὖ πάσχε ὡς θνητός: Do as well as your mortal status permits.

The way that I personally interpret these two maxims is as a reminder that humans are human with human limits. It therefore asks that we not act like a god because that's assuming we no longer see ourselves as human.

It also asks that we not assume we can think like a god because that's over simplifying the way that the gods operate by applying human morals to them when they are beyond our comprehension and know things we'll never know, so they are a lot more complex than we'll ever understand, and assuming we know is to limit the gods.

But overall the main message is to respect the will of others by not thinking you are way better because you are more god-like than they are. EVERY person has the ability to be spiritual and the ability to create in such extraordinary ways that seem almost "god-like" to others but we are still human with human limits.

I personally believe human limits are beautiful and one of the many reasons why the gods are so fascinated with us. The gods get to see what we accomplish with such fragile lives, small limits that are carried by strong wills and big hearts.

I hope this helps!

#demigods #Greek gods #greek mythology #Hercules #hellenic polytheism #tw cult #tw cult mention

[yandere-daydreams]

(this definitely wasnt inspired by the person who said sleeping beauty darling) a cinderella darling having gone through abuse their whole life wouldn’t be be upset with being held captive but actually happy and would go on with their dailies the the difference is they get some form of sick love from the yandere right?

tw - toxic relationships, manipulation, physical abuse, mentions of neglect, infantalization, obsessive mindsets, victim-blaming.

The devil you know is often better than the angel you don’t. I think an obsessive captor, however rich and loving, has just as much potential to be just as awful as any abusers you’ve met before.

At least you know how your step-mother feels about you. Your step-sisters might be a little more complicated, caught somewhere between sympathy and a new, budding superiority complex, between little shows of mercy and the cruelty they tolerate in exchange for a clean house and a safe distance from their mother’s anger, but she’s simple enough, she’s straight-forward enough, she doesn’t try to dampen the pure, unfiltered loathing in her eyes when she looks at you, all the anger a child deserves for being the feature-for-feature copy of a spouse so often found absent. She demands you that you clean so diligently because she wants you to know your place, below her. She locks the the cabinets and the pantries at night because she wants you too weak to argue, when she gives you your daily list of impossible tasks in the morning. She sends you out on errands that force you to walk all day and all night because every minute she doesn’t have to look at you is another tiny, prized blessing. She hates you. There’s nothing more, and there’s nothing less. You can live with being hated. You can live with making her your villain, especially when she seems so eager to take on the role. 

And, you can live with letting someone else come to your rescue. You can live with dancing, with letting beautiful women and powerful men treat you like something to be cooed over and thoroughly pitied, with smiling and playing tragic when a young monarch asks for your clan’s name. It’s not hard to believe you’ve fallen into the arms of the right person when they touch you so gently, when their face grows so hot every time their skin brushes yours, when they ask to see the damage in such a soft, regretful voice, you can nearly forget you’re little more than a pet fanning the flames of your new master’s ego. It’s not hard to tell yourself that this is better, that this is easier, that crying yourself to sleep isn’t as bad when you’re crying into silk sheet, but you haven’t gotten this far by lying to yourself, and you would be lying if you said you didn’t hate yourself a little less when you were still sobbing in your family’s decrepit attic. You grew up with hatred. You’re used to hatred. You don’t know how to react when they slip an arm out your waist, their grip too tight to be ignored. You don’t know how to return their affection, so harsh, so bloody, so much like the abuse they once seemed so disgusted by, when it wasn’t inflicted by their hand. You don’t know what to say to calm their anger, their temper, that sudden burst of uncharacteristic rage whenever they find you talking to one of your servants or indulging the curiosity of a group of courtiers or fiddling with your wedding ring, stark and silver and far too much like a shackle to ever fit comfortable on your finger. You don’t know how to feel about this - not quite hatred, not quite anything else. A love so rotted and possessive, it can’t really be called love at all.

And, it’s hard when you only have yourself to blame. You were the one who went through such lengths to make yourself into something pathetic, something in need of protection. You were the one who plead for their mercy. You were the one who failed to push them away the first time they kissed you, the first time you felt their teeth crash against your skin, and you’re still the one who falters, who hesitates, who fails to say a word when they pull you close and mutter all those terrible things into the crook of your neck, all the things they’d do if another living person ever laid a hand on you again. It makes things hurt more than they used to, even if you know you’re being hurt so much less. It makes things feel more difficult than they used to, even if you could still divide your heroes and your villains into separate categories, if you really had to.

It makes things harder than they used to be, back when you knew better than to love the people who cause you so much pain.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yande.re #yandere theory #general

[thunderheadfred]

🦈Kirishima HC’s🦈

Absolutely no one asked for this i just like him a lot

He’s an adult in all of these. 20s-30s at least. Some NSFW because I’m a big perv. Minors do not interact. Shoo.

- - - - -

General:

He is in the dictionary under Himbo, right next to Kronk.

Works part-time as a fitness instructor before making a name for himself as a pro hero. Most of his clients are middle-aged women, because he makes people feel safe. Before long, word gets around and he amasses this like. Loyal army of jacked housewives and older ladies who are his biggest possible fans. They mother-hen him like crazy.

Has a large and complicated extended family. Lots of cousins. You will never learn all their names, don’t even try. I have no idea if his parents have canon occupations but no matter what Horikoshi says, they actually own a mountain onsen. Kirishima went to the city by himself to go to middle/high school, his family is all off in the country somewhere and he gets homesick a lot but never admits it. He’s broke for a long time even after making it as a pro hero, because he sends most of his money back home.

He’s a dog dad. You cannot, WILL not convince me otherwise. Big dogs. Small dogs. Fancy dogs. Ugly dogs. He has a whole pack. He calls them all baby, sweetie, pupper, the worst and most embarrassing baby talk. Tells them about his day. All of his furniture is wrecked. He’s an active member in online dog groups, where he is careful to use a pseudonym and never show his face, but eventually people are going to figure out that Red Riot’s dogs look an awful lot like this one user’s....

He’s in a casual taiko group, always on the o-daiko. Loves participating in festivals and parades. He has never, ever, not once, worn a shirt while drumming. Probably has been gifted at least one antique taiko drum for his hero work, and he keeps it in his house but is too afraid to play it because it’s scary valuable “uhh it’s definitely haunted”

Regularly goes out drinking. Socially and responsibly, like clockwork, always with the same people. He’s a goddamned lightweight, and no one understands why. Will mope if he has to miss a night out at the izakaya.

So he’s clean, but sloppy. House looks like a tornado ripped through it, and nothing he owns matches. Not a single thing. I mentioned the dogs.

Will absolutely use “manly” as a replacement for “awesome,” and will constantly tell you how manly you are. Your actual gender is a non-issue. If you hang out with him for more than five minutes you’re manly as hell now.

He cries a lot? Sometimes it’s for show but he gets genuinely misty-eyed over the dumbest things. Do NOT show him pictures of puppies.

He’s good at braiding hair. His or yours. When his hair isn’t hardened, he likes doing all kinds of wacky stuff with it. He usually keeps it long enough for braids, ponies, buns, quirk-assisted faux-hawks, whatever. Mina has given him many bad ideas. He will definitely steal your hair bands and accessories, if you use them.

His fridge is just like, meat and beer. He will, if forced, consume perhaps one single vegetable. Unfortunately, his B.O. reflects this. God bless him - he showers and bathes daily, because he works out a lot and is just generally hygienic. But don’t ever touch his socks barehanded.

He wears the cheapest, most predictable cologne you can imagine, the kind that comes in an aerosol can and punches a hole in the ozone every time he sprays his pits. It smells stupidly good on him. How. so fucking manly. you kind of hate him for getting away with it.

- - - - -

And now, the 🌶 Spicy Ones 🌶

Does not date or hook up much; wants a serious relationship.

Has a tough time getting dates, weirdly. He’s still secretly insecure, but mostly he’s got rocks for brains and never knows how to flirt. He ends up friendzoning most of the people interested in him, because he is, in fact, a little too chivalrous for his own good and can never make the first move. He’s an emotional open book, but clueless romantically. I recommend being extremely straightforward. Draw him a map if you have to.

Is afraid to kiss you too deeply because of the teeth. Will take a lot of gentle encouragement to get him comfortable, but once he knows you’re safe, he’s going to be kissing you all the time. Like, too much. People are gawking, Kiri, for God’s sake.

He radiates massive doses of husband/dad energy. Will immediately marry the hell out of you. If you are capable of and willing to have his children, you are going to get extremely pregnant. Very quickly. Not necessarily a breeding kink (though why not), he just really wants to start a family with you.

He’s Big. Just huge. Tall and broad, and also... his dick is a summit and you will need to prepare for the climb. He’s had problems in the past because no, not everybody wants ALL THAT inside them. That said, if you can handle it? Woof.

Hard as a rock is No Joke with this man. Can and WILL use his quirk on his dick. If you don’t think that’s the first thing he mastered as a teenager I dont know what to tell you. Ever used a glass dildo? Well buckle up cuz it’s like if a massive glass dildo whispered sweet nothings in your ear and held you close in big strong arms and fucked you till you cried. It’s a sometimes thing. Otherwise you’d simply pass away.

He loves your brains. Your smarts and wit are a huge turn on, and he gets a boner when you use a word he doesn’t know. He also loves fucking your brains completely out, so that you cant use any words at all.

He’s a devout church-going body-worshipper. He’s so jacked that’s it’s constantly intimidating, like, how dare you stand next to this chiseled statue of a man?! but whether you love power-lifting with him or would rather die than exercise, he’s gonna treat you like the prettiest fucking piece of cake on planet earth.

Size kink ahoy; he gets his big grabby mitts on you... and you psychologically lose three feet. Doesn’t matter how tall or small or fat or thin you are, you are getting groped, squeezed, and manhandled. You didn’t even know it was possible to get thrown around like that; always onto something soft.

Not dominant. Not unless you ask very, very nicely. had a brief pushy phase at the peak of his teenage manliness obsession, unconsciously trying to be more like Bakugou, but he quickly realized controlling people wasn’t really him. It certainly isn’t very manly. Doesn’t want any toxic masculinity in his love life, even as roleplay.

That said, he can and will be a soft dom, if that’s what you want. After some practice, he’d get pretty good at it too. But his natural sexual groove is goofy, a bit awkward. Usually finds a non-sexual excuse to touch you at first; prepare to get tickled a lot. If you sit in his lap it’s all over.

If you get dominant with him, even a little, he’s gonna turn to putty in your hands. Go ahead and boss that big dumb puppy around. Nothing turns him on like seeing you get exactly what you want.

You’ll have morning wood pressed up against your ass. Every damn day. He might hump and grope you in his sleep, moaning a little. Usually it just wears off. If you wake him up to fuck, he’ll have no idea what’s going on but will be like “hell yeah i guess this is happening”

Gives oral like a starving man. Has absolutely zero reservations, because he knows his tongue and hands can’t hurt you. Will be as loud and messy as possible. If you get embarrassed or shy about it, he’s going to mumble sweet talk directly into your junk until your teeth fall out.

He’s vocal in bed. Growly. A moaning groaning disaster. He says the sweetest, gentlest things... has the cleanest dirty talk you’ve ever heard, but tenderness filtered through his bourbon-barrel chest comes out all dark and rumbly, especially when he’s close. you feel his “I love you” in your bones

He thinks making his partner cum is the manliest thing he can do. Any orgasm is good, but if you cum untouched on his dick, he’ll be riding that high for days

#kirishima headcanons #kirishima x reader #kirishima x y/n #kirishima x you #gender neutral #bnha #smut #mha #kinda #bnha headcanons #mha headcanons #bnha x reader #mha x reader #fred writes #avert your eyes chilren #i dont know how to tag things #kirishima eijirou

[city-witch-magix]

Celtic Deities

These are basic notes too look at as a beginning, there are only 10 deities from the website I used and I want to make sure my sources are good, so any feedback with corrections or additions you think I should add to it are greatly appreciated :) 

Brighid, Hearth Goddess of Ireland 

Daughter of Dagda 

One of the classic triple Goddesses of the celtic pantheon

Many Pagans honor her as a goddess of the hearth and home, divination and prophecy

Often associated with with Imbolc, fire, domesticity, and family life 

A patron of poets, bards, healers, and magicians. 

Items for honoring/Symbols: green cloth that is long enough to wrap around your shoulders (if you put it on your doorstep on the night of Imbolc she will bless it), Brighid’s cross, a Bride’s Bed

Cailleach, Ruler of Winter 

Known in parts as the hag, bringer of storms, the dark mother of the winter months

Features prominently in mythology as and is not just a destroyer but also a creator goddess

The name itself means “veiled one” or “old woman” 

In some stories she’d appear to the hero as an old woman and when they were kind to her, she’d turn into a young woman and reward him for his good deeds 

In other stories, she turns into a giant gray boulder at the end of winter and stays that way until Beltane when she comes back to life

Items for honoring/Symbols: wearing something blue, personal reserve, control, and truth with yourself, a yellow altar cloth in the morning for the sun and a blue candle in the center, a bowl of snow

Cernunnos, Wild God of the Forest 

The horned God found in many traditions of modern Paganism and Wicca

Symbolizes fertility and masculine energy 

Often celebrated around Beltane 

Associated with the forest, the greening of the earth, and wild stags

The god of vegetation and trees, a god of lust and fertility when connected Pan, the Greek satyr

In some traditions he is seen as a god of death and dying and takes time to comfort the dead by singing to them on their way to the spirit world 

Items for Honoring/Symbols: Take some wine, milk, or consecrated water in a chalice to the woods and pour it out while calling his name, decorate your altar with leaves, shed antlers, moss, fresh clean soil

Cerridwen, Keeper of the Cauldron

Known in Welsh mythology as the keeper of the Cauldron of the Underworld in which knowledge and inspiration is brewed 

Considered the Goddess of prophetic powers and bc her symbol is the cauldron she is an honored goddess in many Pagan and Wiccan traditions 

Her legend is heavy with transformation 

Change and rebirth and transformations are all under her control 

Items for honoring/Symbols: a cauldron, 

The Daga, Father God of Ireland 

Leader of the Tuatha de Danaan 

A god of fertility and knowledge 

Name means “the good god” 

Possess a mighty club and a magical cauldron that has an endless supply of food

Typically portrayed as a plump man with a large phallus, represented as a god of abundance (my guy was packin, they said it was so big it would have to be dragged on the ground)

Items for Honoring/Symbols: a club, cauldron with home-grown veggies or fresh baked good, ladle, oat bannocks, porridge, ale, butter, symbols of abundance and bounty

Herne, God of the Wild Hunt

A god of vegetation, vine, and the wild hunt in British lore

Celebrated in the autumn months, when the deer go into their rut

Seen as a god of the common folk and typically only recognized around the Windsor Forest area of Berkshire 

Was considered a divine hunter and was seen on his hunts with a great horn and a wooden bow riding a black horse with a pack of hounds

Mortals who got caught in his hunt would get taken and ride with him for eternity 

Seen as a harbinger of bad omen, especially to the royal family 

Items for Honoring/Symbols: call upon him when needed, might want to wokr with him when you need to right a wrong, cider, whiskey, or home brewed mead, a dish of prepared meat you hunted yourself, burn incense with dried leaves 

Lugh, Master of Skills

Honored for his skills and gifts as a craftsman 

God of blacksmiths, metal-workers, and artisans 

Honored on August 1st as a harvest god 

Associated with craftsmanship and skill (especially with creativity) 

Not specifically a god of war, but is a known as a skilled warrior 

Has amighty spear that is so bloodthirsty it’s tried to fight its own owner 

Items for Honoring/Symbols: something you made yourself

The Morrighan, Goddess of War and Sovereignty 

Associated with rightful kinship and the sovereignty of the land along with war

Often appears as a crow or raven or with a group of them 

In some areas she’s connected to fertility and land 

Items for Honoring/Symbols: 

Rhiannon, Horse Goddess of Wales

Plays a crucial role in the kinship of Wales 

Appears prominently in Welsh and Irish mythology

Items for Honoring/Symbols: horses, horseshoes, birds, the wind, the moon, on your altar have horse-related things (figures, etc), offerings of sweetgrass, hay, milk, or even music

Taliesin, Chief of the Bards

A documented historical figure but has managed to be elevated to a minor god

Known as the greatest poet of all time 

Items for Honoring/Symbols: 

Source: https://www.learnreligions.com/pagan-gods-and-goddesses-2561985  https://www.learnreligions.com/gods-of-the-celts-2561711  and any other links used for individual gods

#witch #witchcraft #intro to witchcraft #intro to paganism #wicca #baby witch #research on witchcraft #deities #celtic #celtic deities

[wlw-lovestruck-fiction]

A FMC x Lavinia hurt/comfort fic, where Lavinia comforts FMC or the other way around. I feel really lonely currently.. I'm going through a tough time and I kind of crave some comfort :/ Thank you and sorry for bothering you. Take care :3

Written by @blue-is-the-coolest-color

It felt good to be in the camper again. Between fluffy blankets and surrounded by random books Lavinia has picked up from libraries or bookstores that have interested her. It’s a strange collection, fairy tales and fiction, a few vegetarian cookbooks scattered about the small kitchen area, a few books about animals or fauna. A collection to capture Lavinia’s curiosities of this world.

Speak of the devil. Annisa had to move her arm quickly as the taller woman shifted next to her until she managed to snuggle up close against her, wrapping her arms around Annisa and placing her head on her chest. Annisa rolled her eyes affectionately as she put down the book she had been flipping through in favor of running her hands through Lavinia’s hair.

“You’re very affectionate tonight,” Annisa pointed out, though she really couldn’t blame Lavinia for a bit of clinginess. It had been weeks since they had been able to have a moment alone, but she could tell the ordeal with Rapunzel had caused something short of frustration to play on Lavinia. The girl was distant since she arrived at the camper, deep in thought at moments with her brows furrowed together and lips tight. Annisa had played it off as exhaustion after everything, but now she was a bit more worried as she felt Lavinia cuddle as close as possible.

“Thinking.”

“Ever articulate.”

Annisa teased as she started rubbing circles into Lavinia’s shoulder blades. Soothing the tension that stuck there and causing a soft sound very reminiscent of a purr to leave Lavinia’s lips. The two stayed like that for a moment before Lavinia gently pushed away until she was on her elbows hovering closely. Annisa could see the confusion and frustration in the other woman’s eyes as she waited patiently to see if Lavinia would deflect or if she would say what had been haunting her for the last hour and a half.

“Ranpuzel has killed innocent witches. Simply for being witches, and she wanted to kill me regardless of what it would do to the people of my kingdom. She even threatened the witchling, and yet-” Lavinia’s eyes narrowed slightly in a brief glare as if the reasoning of it pissed her off, “and your friends are really going to let all that go? Even though she’s proud of those she’s slain.”

Annisa listened patiently, not commenting as she felt Lavinia’s arms tense and relaxed with the statements, as if Lavinia was trying to keep from letting the anger consume her more than it has.

“We are not unalike.”

Lavinia admitted reluctantly, as if the statement was acid in her throat.

“We both grew up in less than ideal situations, used or thrown away, isolated, forced to struggle for years. We crawled out of it in different ways, killed people, did horrible things in the name of our own selfish justice or reasoned it in whatever way. We both-”

Lavinia trailed off hard and Annisa had to fight the urge to brush the long silver hair out of her face as it slipped from her shoulders. There’s a pain in Lavinia’s voice, on that Annisa hadn’t heard too often from the other girl before.

“Gothel,” Lavinia tried to articulate what she wanted to say, but it’s choked and Annisa feels her heart break at the sound.

“Lavinia,” Annisa pushed herself up a bit as Lavinia hastily rubbed at her eyes and tried to go back to how she was laying.

“Forget it, it’s nothing.”

“It’s not,” Annisa argued as she let her hands move to Lavinia’s face, trying to get the woman to look at her, “it’s hurting you, so it’s not nothing.”

Lavinia looked away, a bit of shame crossing her face.

“I was once a student of Gothel. There was a time, back when I was young, that I wanted to be strong and feared like her. Because then maybe I could hold on to the things that mattered to me, then maybe-” Lavinia’s eyes darkened and she tried to turn her head as to no look into Annisa’s eyes, but Annisa still saw the tears the threatened to spill over, “I was orphaned when I was very young, I couldn’t use magic, I was alone. Gothel had this power and I wanted her to teach me. She didn’t at first, but decided I was amusing and worth playing with. She’d send me on these ridiculous errands and I’d do an insane amount of magical research to try and convince her I was worth her time.

Then my magic appeared, my ice alignment made itself known and suddenly I was the only student Mother Gothel wanted to teach. She taught me spells she wouldn’t utter to the other witches in her coven. It felt like she had taken me under her wing. I would have done anything for her.”

Annisa listened quietly, horrified by the raw pain that had claimed Lavinia’s throat. She had known Rapunzel was a victim of Gothel, but hearing that Lavinia had also been a target caused her heart to ache for the woman in her arms.

“She told me about how she planned to kill the ice king and needed my help. I was important to this mission and she needed me to follow her orders to the T. I was so excited to help her, to make a real difference and to take down the Tyrant who abused his power and caused the mass slaughter of so many magical beings in the ice kingdom. The king liked to set up his own witch hunts where he’d release a witch he had captured into his private woods to hunt down and kill. Our plan was for me to get captured and to wait for Gothel who would come and stage a breakout. During the panic she would kill the king while I distracted all his guards with a permafrost spell I had read about in a book.

So I did my part, I let the king catch me and I lived in the dungeon underneath the castle. I waited for Gothel to appear. I waited weeks, starving in a dark wet cell. I was so hungry, I hadn’t felt hunger that strong since arriving at the orphanage. Eventually it was my turn to be hunted, and when they let me into those woods I decided I would kill the king myself. So I used an old spell Gothel had me test a while ago and I slaughtered almost all of the king’s men in the forest. And then I killed him and sat on the throne covered in blood and announced that the king had fallen.”

“Gothel had left, abandoned me there, then had the nerve to show up two weeks after my coronation and demand I give her magic in exchange for teaching me. We fought and I threw up the magical barrier around my kingdom using one of her spells for spite.”

“I guess that explains how you don’t age.” Annisa interrupted and then almost hit herself for such a sudden outburst, but Lavinia nodded.

“I don’t age because it’s the same spell Gothel uses to steal magic, only my people can refuse to give me their magic, they offer up their magic to keep the barriers around the kingdom, so I guess in a way I’m not giving them much of a choice.”

Lavinia sighed, balancing herself on one arm for a moment to run a hand through her hair.

“I let all my pain get the better of me, and I hurt more people because I was too afraid of losing my newfound power. I wanted to keep everything out, because that’s how everything could stay safe,” Lavinia shook her head, “I sound like a maniac.”

“Lavinia, it doesn’t matter what you did before, all that matters to me is that you’re trying to do better now,” Annisa flashed the other girl a soft smile, “what Gothel did to you was horrible, and you shouldn’t have had to suffer to feel like you weren’t alone.”

“But I always am, somehow.”

It’s so quiet and heartbreaking to hear Lavinia’s voice like this. Annisa’s smile dropped as she tried to process the hurt, pain, and anger flashing through Lavinia’s icy eyes.

“To have a chance like Rapunzel has been given. To actually be allowed to keep writing my story without having to hurt you more to do so. I’d have to bend over backwards to be given a quarter the chance at redemption that she’s been allowed after everything. Why? Because her story deemed her a hero despite her murders and crimes?”

Maybe weeks ago Annisa would have said something to defend Rapunzel, defend why she should be given chance after chance where Lavinia shouldn’t. Lavinia dropped her head back to her shoulder in frustration.

“...You’re mad because they won’t give you that chance,” Annisa commented as she wrapped her arms around Lavinia’s shoulders, keeping her in place when she felt her start to shift, “I didn’t think you cared so much about what they thought about you.”

“I don’t,” Lavinia grumbled into her shoulder, “but I know it would be easier for you if they trusted me to keep you safe at least. Then maybe you wouldn’t have to sneak around to see me.”

Annisa held the woman tighter, placing a firm kiss to her head as she felt her relax into her arms.

“They’re not all against you. Arin wants to give you a chance, and I could convince Oliver to as well. And you have me.”

“As long as I have you.”

Of course the melting queen would sneak in some sweet nothings while they layed there, Annisa couldn’t say she was surprised by the familiar affection in Lavinia’s voice.

“So you're using me as a pillow here all night? I’m supposed to be home.”

Lavinia smirked, wrapping her arms tighter.

“Stay, please?”

“Oh my,” Annisa pretended to swoon, batting her eyelashes, “did her majesty just say please? To little old me. What a blessing that has bestowed upon my unworthy ears!”

“Brat,” Lavinia laughed, a beautiful light sound that Annisa would kill to hear, “you’re not allowed to leave now, punishment for mouthing off to a queen.”

“You love when I mouth off to you.”

“Maybe.”

The smirk caused Annisa to blush, suggesting a far dirtier joke that Lavinia had opted out of saying.

“I wish I could stay here,” Annisa sighed as she looked up at the ceiling of the cabin, the little snowflake fairy lights making her smile, sinking her fingers into unbelievable soft silver hair as she felt Lavinia tilt to head, eyelashes brushing against Annisa’s neck in soft butterfly kisses, “I love being this close to you.”

Lavinia hummed her agreement as Annisa’s fingers scratched at her scalp and wandered through her hair.

“It’s certainly a treat, watching the Ice Queen melt just for me.”

“You’re the only person worth melting for.”

Annisa hated how her mind immediately flashed to a certain snowman character from a Disney movie. She couldn’t control the way the giggles shook her form. Lavinia propped herself up on her arm, trying to look bored but the soft look in her eyes betrayed her horribly as she watched Annisa laugh at a joke she didn’t understand.

“Remind me that I need you to watch a movie with me.”

Lavinia hummed and let her fingertips trace patterns into Annisa’s arm before bringing her hand up to her lips, pressing a soft kiss that caused Annisa to blush.

“Do you really have to leave now?”

“I guess I can spare five minutes.”

Five turned to an hour, but it wasn’t like Annisa was complaining.

#anonymous #answered #lovestruck #women of lovestruck #lovestruck fanfiction #lavinia le guin #lavinia x mc #eaa lavinia #ever after academy #eaa #woeful wednesday #soft angst #fluffy comfort

[lostcoves]

ft. tenya iida x fem!reader

genre: fluff

wc & warnings: 2k | mentions of wanting to v*mit

premise: thanks to your friend’s magnetizing quirk, you and your not so secret crush tenya iida are stuck together for the next six hours 

tenya iida, oh how you were enamored with him. his leadership, his quirky nature, everything about him made you melt into a puddle. but you were merely another face, a general studies student with an average quirk. you felt like you could never amount to anything compared to the hero course students. yet, fate had other plans for you and him.

"(l/n)-san!" your classmate kirumi yamamoto yelled your name across the classroom one afternoon at the end of the school day. you approached her- although, confused- and asked her, "what is it, yamamoto-san?"

"i need some help with my quirk practice and was wondering if you could help me?" she twiddled her thumbs, smiling like a cheshire cat. you pressed your lips together hesitantly before sighing and answering to kirumi, "okay, i'll help you."

kirumi quickly embraced you and grinned, "thank you, thank you, thank you!"

you would later come to regret this decision.

dressed in your gym uniform, you stood in an empty practice field and waited for kirumi to come out. she emerged from the school and waved at you, you greeted the wave and shouted to her, "whatcha need me to do to help you with your quirk?!"

"you're gonna be my target!" kirumi's quirk was magnets, she could make anything organic into a living magnet. your eyes widened at her response and opened your mouth in protest when she shot a beam at you. letting out a surprised scream, you stood frozen with kirumi's quirk pulsing around you. shit, you were a living magnet.

"now, who should i make into a magnet?" kirumi pondered on the thought until she noticed a group of people walking by near the field. kirumi smirked at the sight, tenya iida was in the group. she yelled to him, "hey iida-san, watch out!" before "accidentally" shooting her quirk's beam at iida. iida tried to duck but the beam was too fast, magnetizing poor iida in one blast. your eyes widened with realization and you let out a shout when iida came flying towards you. the two of you crashed into the ground, both disoriented and in pain.

"sorry!" kirumi laughed nervously.

"yamamoto-san!" iida exclaimed, "undo your quirk this instant!"

"yeah.. no can do!" she rubbed the nape of her neck sheepishly.

"w- wait do you mean?" you stammered, scared.

kirumi let out an anxious chuckle, "my quirk lasts for between thirty minutes to twenty four hours, depending on what i magnetize."

panic bubbled in your chest, you were gonna be stuck to iida for upwards to a day!?

"i'll say you guys are gonna be stuck together for maybe.. six hours?" kirumi hypothesized.

"six hours?!" iida was on the verge of passing out.

"sorry! i'll inform our teachers!" kirumi sprinted off, leaving you and iida to your own devices. queasiness enveloped your body, as you fought the urge to puke on your shoes. six hours, suck to your crush? this was a nightmare!

"before we do anything.. do you need the restroom?" iida questioned to you, his face blushing tomato red.

you shook your head, "thankfully, no. how about you?"

"same for me."

you two were in for an interesting six hours.

─────────────────

hour one - five hours remaining until quirk wears off

you and iida were in iida's bedroom. the teachers thought it would be more suited for you to be under the care of aizawa-sensei and the other pro-heroes specialized with this sorta situation. unable to go two meters without being sucked back to one another, you and iida made the executive decision to remain in his dorm room.

"so (l/n)-san.." iida cleared his throat and gave you an awkward smile, "what's general studies like?"

"like regular old high school," you mused, shifting a little to get more comfortable. iida felt himself getting pulled as a result, much to both of yours annoyance. kirumi's quirk was so frustrating! nothing compared to your simple quirk of water manipulation, a quirk that was a dime a dozen.

"what's it like being a hero course student?" now it was your turn to ask the questions.

"exhilarating," iida breathed out with a smile. he looked so beautiful when he smiled, you smiled in response. he then added to you, "we get in a lot of trouble with villains, though. something that i'm not happy about. they keep interrupting our studies and it's just.. annoying, to say the least."

"i bet," you hummed.

"so uh.. what else would you like to discuss? we got–" iida checked his watch, "–five hours and forty three minutes."

you huffed in exasperation, "good god, this is agonizing."

"hopefully, i'm not upsetting."

"no! you're not! it's just.. it's just.. i need my space," you confessed. iida nodded understandingly and replied, "i understand that. i'll do my best to ensure you're as comfortable as possible while we're stuck like this."

you gave iida's hand a squeeze, "thanks, iida-san."

he returned the hand squeeze with one of his own, his larger hand engulfing your smaller hand.

"of course, (l/n)-san."

─────────────────

hour three - two hours until quirk wears off

perhaps this was a blessing in disguise. you managed to learn a lot about iida while confined to his dorm room and under the magnetizing quirk. he pursued professional heroism as a result of being from a legacy of hero while you attended general studies to ensure a better future when you inherit your family's florist business. your quirk was good for subsidizing costs at the shop but you needed a better education in order to keep the family business afloat. general studies at ua offered a future for you.

"so iida-san," you plucked a grape off the platter of food iida's friend deku dropped off for the two of you, "if you could have any quirk in the world that's not your own, what would it be?"

"are we playing twenty questions?" iida tilted his head in bewilderment. you gave him a nod and he answered, "well, i have.. i'm a little jealous of my classmate todoroki-kun's dual ice and fire ability. i think it would be interesting to have a quirk like that."

"good answer," you plopped the grape in your mouth and gestured iida to ask you a question. he mulled over his question before proposing to you, "what's your ideal partner?"

you nearly choked on your grape but caught yourself before you could. why in the world would tenya iida ask you that kind of question?

"well.. i.. i, er–!" you adverted your gaze from your crush, "i like.. i like intelligent people who are good leaders and want the best for others."

"interesting, interesting.. what about appearance wise?"

you eyed iida warily, "i don't care too much about appearance but.. i like buff people and i think glasses are sexy."

iida made a mental note of your response, "i hope you find someone who matches your ideal lover one day, (l/n)-san!"

iida, you idiot! you thought to yourself, you match my ideal partner!

"so uh!" you cleared your throat, "next question.. what's your favorite food?"

this banter went back and forth for the next hour or so.

─────────────────

hour five - one hour until quirk wears off

you were getting exhausted and it was nearly nightfall at the dorms. your exhaustion was noted by iida, who offered you one of his blankets to sleep with. you grew flustered by the offer but nonetheless accepted it. so here you were, back to back with your crush and laying in his bed. was this a nightmare or a dream come true?

you couldn't sleep. i mean, obviously it was difficult to fall asleep in the presence of your crush. you tossed and turned a bit, the magnet pulse keeping you stuck to iida. the glass wearing boy sighed and turned himself around and whispered, "can't sleep?"

you gave him a nod and iida smiled, "what if i told you a story?"

"a story? what am i, a five year old?" you laughed awkwardly. iida frowned, disappointed. you didn't want to disappoint him so you cleared your throat and changed your answer, "you can tell me a story."

"good," iida wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you close, "my mother would tell me this story a lot when i was little. it starts with a knight and.."

iida went off to tell you the story of a knight cursed to be a beast until he could save a kingdom's princess. it was a story of heroism and sorrow, as the knight failed to save the princess. yet, the princess managed to save herself and in turn, broke the knight's curse with the power of self-forgiveness. you never heard such a tale before so it was definitely interesting to listen to.

"do you feel like you fail at self-forgiveness sometimes, iida-san?" you questioned to your crush, his arm still around your shoulders. god, it felt like the two of you were a couple. iida thought it over and responded, "sometimes. there are times where i feel like i can't forgive myself, such as not being able to avenge my brother for what the hero killer did to him."

you squeezed his arm sympathetically in response, "i'm sorry about it."

"it's.. well, it's not fine but thank you," he answered.

you fell silent, unsure of what to say. you sighed and turned to iida, "tenya iida, can i help you something?"

"sure, (l/n)-san."

"what would you do if someone told you that they liked you?"

"you mean as a friend or romantically?"

"romantically," your pulse quickened and your palms grew sweaty.

"it would depend on the person."

"iida-san.. i know someone who has a crush on you and they're scared to tell you," maybe you could avoid heartbreak if you go with the hypothetical situation.

iida furrowed his brow and removed his arm around you to hold his hands, "someone has a crush on me?"

"yes," a bead of sweat fell from your forehead, "they think you're heroic and sweet and amazing and a true leader. they're just scared to tell you because of the rejection."

"that's understandable," iida nodded. he unclasped his hands and looked back at you, "is that person the one telling me this?"

you gulped, "wh– what do you mean?"

"do you like me, (l/n)-san?"

you adverted your gaze.

"(l/n)-san?"

"i do."

it felt as if a weight had been lifted from your chest at your confession. now, time for the rejection.

"i like you, too."

what? he liked you too?!

"wait, you do? but we barely know one another!" you protested, surprised at iida's reply. iida chuckled and elaborated to you, "it was the sports festivial, (l/n)-san.. or could i call you (y/n)-chan?"

"(y/n)-chan works," you answered.

"well, that was the first time i really saw anyone from general studies perform with their quirks but you.. i saw a hero in you. i remember seeing you aid another student who struggled to get through the race. you helped her all through the race, not caring about winning the race. that was heroic and the start of my infatuation with you," iida explained.

you remembered, a girl had gotten injured and you dragged her through the course. iida saw that?

"then i began seeing you around school and i wanted to talk to you but i never had the chance until now," iida finished with a nervous smile. you let out a soft huff, followed by a laugh. you couldn't believe it, iida shared similar feelings with you. this was a dream come true!

"can i kiss you?” you proposed to iida. he nodded, “you can.”

timidly, you leaned in close and pressed a gentle kiss on iida’s lips. the kiss was tender and sweet, innocent and exploratory. 

“wow..” he whispered against your lips, “that was amazing.”

“you think so?” you murmured, your lips still stuck to his.

“i know so.”

“hey tenya– i can call you tenya, right?”

“of course.”

“good, but uh.. i can’t remove my lips.”

iida’s eyes widened and he pulled back, only for your lips to connect together once more. horrified, you realized that you two would be stuck like this for the next hour or so. damn kirumi and her quirk!

yet, this wasn’t a miserable outcome. at least, you and iida confessed to one another. that was more than enough for you.

#bee scribbles #hanimehub #boku no hero academia #bnha #my hero academia #mha #boku no hero academia x reader #bnha x reader #my hero academia x reader #mha x reader #iida #tenya iida #iida x reader #tenya iida x reader #original work