#you can only take so much rejection…..you can only be disliked by so many people in so many subtle and overt ways before it gets to be

[shirkers2018dirsanditan]

i did resolve to stop throwing myself so many pity parties and to cultivate a practice of indifference towards my own life so that i could one day truly feel indifferent but i don’t :( and it’s silly and self indulgent but i do want somebody to feel bad for me. i don’t want advice, i don’t want encouragement or positive thinking, i don’t want motivation. i just want someone to take seriously the conclusions i’ve come to even though they may sound ridiculous - i understand they do! trust me i do! they are so ridiculous i don’t fully believe them even though i need to! - and i want someone to take seriously at least how depressed it makes me and i do want them to say and express. poor you. i don’t have a lot that makes me sympathetic or unique, but it hurts enough that i just need a little pity…..and it’s so rude of me to… when people are being nice to me and trying to ensure like, no these conclusions aren’t true! life is long! the future is open! if you want these things you’ll get them. because it’s nice and i feel, genuine. i used to be optimistic like that. and i’m not someone who really suffers, but plenty of people suffered their whole lives and died. plenty of people have been lonely their whole lives and then they just died. plenty of people have been depressed their whole lives and then they just died. and from my vantage point what i can realistically hope for is that my end is sooner rather than later. but this is a depressing thing to say and something no one wants to hear. and certainly no one will be like, i agree and i hope your life is short and your end near. and i’m not saying i want someone to tell me this. but i don’t want to hear about how these things will come and how it’s just a matter of time or if i want something i can have it or how it’s okay to be down sometimes. i don’t believe you. and it’s not a comfort. and i feel bad that it isn’t. but i’ve been delusional and i don’t like it. i don’t like chasing after delusions. i don’t like being hurt. and i know that’s life and blah blah blah but i do feel it should not all be this hard. it’s just not worth it. i feel, narcissistically, that on some level my decision to let go of delusional optimism and try and accept my fate is kind of noble. lol. at the very least it’s very difficult. and some, encouragement is not the word but like. literally just some pity would go so far. like yes. poor me. but i’m coping with it. but that’s too much to ask!

#i hate the idea that life is what you make it and your life is up to you blah fucking whatever #like on a political level i think its shallow #but on a personal level i don’t think it’s fair #life is not fair sometimes for no reason #some animals get lost from the pack and then die of exposure. or whatever #it can all be so very random #i’m sure you could say i haven’t tried enough #but when trying is painful it hurts to keep doing that #you can only take so much rejection…..you can only be disliked by so many people in so many subtle and overt ways before it gets to be #too much #and its easy to see someone unhappy and be like. well they’ve chosen this #and like no well the circumstances chose me idk #i don’t like being unhappy more than anyone else #i’ve been depressed for like two years or something like. i don’t like that at all #i would rather be happy and social #and feel loved and understood #i would rather feel normal #i would rather feel like i belong #but i don’t #and that’s not my fault #and some pity would be nice! #i should have put this in my notes app or something or maybe i need a journal but #this is my blog so everyone will have to witness my breakdown

[roxineedstosleep]

Can you do platonic batfam with a male reader who is like Hunter from the owl house

Imagine having a manipulator uncle and is a clone of someone

Clones have no personality.

Not at least in the interim of their realization.

At the beginning they know what they want and that, then, when they interact with a more real world they realize that they are nothing and at the same time they are someone.

The emptiness that comes with realization, anger, loss, parendiza and acceptance are things that take time. They take time, tears, reproaches, rejections, acceptances, cries, screams, health and so many other things.

Conner surely understands what the reader is going through, he knows what it means to be someone's clone and not knowing what else to do for oneself.

Conner didn't know he could be himself until he stopped trying with Clark.

The reader… well.

Being Dick Grayson's clone wasn't something you'd like to have known.

Worse yet… meeting Dick and then the whole family was even worse.

You no longer knew if your affections, hobbies, likes and dislikes were a macabre work of genetics or because that's what you'd really be if you weren't a clone.

You were- are? soooo much like Richard.

But at the same time you were so different. His dark light skin was like a beautiful bronze compared to your uneven brown skin. It looked like your hair waves were hideous compared to his perfectly wavy hair. His eyes were the perfect shade of blue, well-place mole on the chick, his voice was more enchanting than yours.

Every time you saw him more and more, you felt as you looked in the mirror something about your appearance warp into an eternally striking malformation.

Your nails or your fingers didn't seem to be straight, your teeth were getting bigger and twisted(?), your hair was not manageable, your skin started to get more pimples or pores… nothing seemed to have an end.

You were too young to even be considered Dick's twin, at best, like Damian, you could be considered his younger brother… his son? To old for that?

Well, like Conner, someone had to have given the egg for that cloning thing to work.

That wasn't the point.

The point was that you were everything Richard wasn't. You never would be and never would become.

You didn't have the strength or the agility or the courage or the chutzpah.

When Bruce found you, it was as if he had stopped time and locked you in the Batmobile until Zantana and others came to see what they should do with you. You were just looking for the quickest way to buy candy. A simple detour around a corner and all of a sudden you were being pecked and bewitched by a bunch of people in tights who wouldn't stop asking you questions or wanting to get inside your head.

Your only mistake was scape from the orphanage for candy.

When the spells failed, when the manipulations came to nothing and when everything looked like it was going to end with you ten feet underground behind a ditch… they resigned themselves to completing the last box in the "kidnap a civilian" kit: they had to see if you were a fucking clone.

Bruce didn't even think of Dick as a possible cloning victim in the first place.

You didn't look like him… not in the right way. At least from Bruce's perspective; being the genius detective that he was.

Bruce had just squeezed the wheel of possibilities with the DNA of everyone registered in the Watchover system… the genetic co-incidence was just that.

A fucking co-incidence.

And Dick, he had the terrible luck to show up as a match. But even with that proff he did not believe it.

You, you couldn't be a clone, you had to be something else. Didn't you?

Your son? a mistake from the past?

No.

You were just the result of a crazy ex-girlfriend, an idiot Dick and a test tube.

They took you with them. You couldn't walk around without anyone watching you. Besides, a mansion was better than a low-security orphanage. Wasn't it?

But it didn't help any.

To them, to Dick himself, you were just a token that everyone was replaceable.

Bruce wanted to test if you were trainable to be Robin, but you could barely run without dying in the attempt. It didn't matter how many days you stayed in training or fighting.

Nothing worked.

Your belly was visible, your fatigue was or seemed chronic (some cloning error?), your appearance definitely resembled Dick but not in the right way. Or at least that's how you began to perceive it over time. As they, the Waynes, used to constantly emphasise to you.

Sometimes you could stand for hours in front of the mirror wondering if you were really a clone or if the machine had broken down.

And just as your relationship with your image began to deteriorate… the relationship with the members of the house didn't even seem to get off to a good start.

Damian didn't know how to treat you, Jason definitely looked at you with pity, Tim watched you like a lab rat, Alfred and Bruce tried to make up for all their faults with you.

Dick… Dick, like Clark, didn't want anything to do with you or relate to you.

At the beginning he tried. I mean, one of his best friends is a fucking clone, who was fiercely rejected by the person who should be his family. Wouldn't it be hypocritical of him to reject you?

But it was no use. The few times you did hang out together it was clearly awkward for both of you. And even if anyone asked how you were related, Dick was quick to reject any connection.

"He's a friend's cousin, I babysit." "Oh, a co-worker's son." "He's one of the Wayne Foundation kids."

Over time Dick really emphasised that he wanted nothing to do with you, or to know about you or even to consider accepting your existence. He pulled away, with different excuses or reasons to the point where there was no reason why they should relate to each other.

So, seeing that nothing could ever be the same again… you decided to take the next step.

Clearly they didn't want to see you. They didn't want to relate to you.

Dick was, much to your consternation considering that he even never get you a proper ID, your legal guardian, but even he didn't make a big deal out of it.

Damian wouldn't give you the time of day, Alfred and Bruce were always busy, Jason for clear reasons didn't want to be there, and Tim had a purely clinical interest in your existence.

Why be with them? Well, you needed a roof over your head, yes, but other than that there was no reason why you should waste your time and effort wanting to be there.

You were taken off the streets almost as an adult, you could see your way to entertain yourself until you could get out of there. You didn't have the same pressure as they did with public image, you didn't have to go to galas or society balls.

So, you looked for other ways to entertain yourself.

First it was sports, but you sucked. Really sucked.

The arts didn't seem to be your thing, even if you tried.

Dancing was also out of the question and singing, even though you weren't terrible, wouldn't bring you any kind of personal satisfaction.

That's when the clandestine outings came in.

You drank, you tried drugs, you did whatever it took to get out of the Wayne family's sight for more than a day.

There were bad experiences, definitely, but it seemed like life wanted to somehow make it up to you for everything it put you through.

Before long, you found relatively decent people.

People who, in the worst situations, you wouldn't hesitate to ask for help.

There were even times when you would spend up to a month or more away from the family home and never get a call or message about your whereabouts.

Before you knew it, the years passed and you had turned 18… or at least you could say so considering you were a fucking clone.

Months away from the Wayne's, calculating that time away from home, I'd say it was a total of 2 cumulative years that you were away.

And you were happy in those months far from the Wayne mansion. You had two good friends, who were in and out of drugs just like you. They would meet in a small, ramshackle studio and eat and get a job to survive together. When the going got tough, you'd rush back so your buddies could make ends meet.

Sometimes you would even send them some food and old clothes that everyone in the house was reluctant to throw away.

Many of your clothes were, ironically, things that others had left behind. Not because you didn't have clothes of your own, but it was easier to finish wearing worn out clothes than to wear something new that you could wear later.

But that wasn't the point.

You didn't know anything about the Waynes at that time, and they didn't know anything about you.

And that seemed to work just as well for them.

Worked perfectly for you as well.

You didn't have to deal with them, they didn't have to deal with you. Wasn't that the best thing?

If you came back alive, with tattered clothes and calloused hands, they wouldn't say go. It didn't matter if you'd spent most of the winter sleeping without heat or if you moved the bathtub into the living room to avoid flooding the floor during the rainy season.

You were invisible to them. And you were happy about it.

But, like everything else in life, nothing seemed to be enough, everything seemed like a sick joke and no matter what you did, you always ended up in the same mental hole that kept you from moving on.

You don't even know how the fuck you ended up like that.

It was just a party, a private fucking party with your two best friends. Jackovy had brought a new sour candy (real sugar tasty candy) to try, Luz brought her own special drinks. You had gone out of your way to make spicy mac and cheese that had just the right amount of creamy yet tangy cheese. What was the worst that could happen?

A fucking Joker bomb, half a block from Jackovy's ramshackle building, that's what. Just as the three of you were halfway through dinner, ordering takeout for something sweet for dessert…. a stinking bomb shattered the front windows to the street and Jackovy jumped on you to get you out of the place.

Without thinking too much you grabbed Luz by the arm, and both of you held on to Jackovy's large figure to escape from the building that was collapsing second by second. As soon as Jackovy put one foot out into the street, the whole building collapsed and you pushed him and Luz as far away from the collapse as you could, they pulled you in time, but your leg got caught in some of the debris.

You didn't want to see it, you didn't need to see it, but that leg was definitely broken. You didn't know the severity, but from what Luz was shouting in her native language and the insults your other friend was hurling you knew that a bandage wasn't enough.

Clearly, as if it were a bad joke, because the Joker really was a lousy comedian, it wasn't long before Gordon and a member of your family arrived at the scene of the crime.

It seemed so strange to you, so weird.

They really were good at acting their double persona. I mean, you never saw Dick be gentle with you before. Not when you broke your arm after trying to climb the chandelier like he once did. Not when Bruce yelled at you until he was hoarse because he couldn't do gymnastics.

You never saw Bruce act carefully when pulling out the debris. You didn't feel Dick's desperate way of calling a paramedic like fake.

But, it didn't matter.

Really, if you didn't get over that everyone in the family had taken acting classes you could believe a little bit about their acting.

Really, omitting all the obnoxious disinterest you had in them, you could say they were worthy of an Oscar for best acting or at least they were too professional to care whether you were the forgotten clone in the house or not.

As soon as one of the two wanted to get into the ambulance with you, you shouted Luz and Jackovy's name for them to follow you. The paramedics didn't know what to do, but there wasn't much to say about it either.

"Only family members or couples can join-"

"Jackovy is his husband" Luz had shouted, noticing how you were trying to run away from the nurses' restraints " Besides he always use his husband's"

"A child can't be an adult's boyfriend-" Dick had tried to say, frightened looking at Jackovy, who definitely looked to be at least about 27 years old. His prominent beard and his height and musculature really made him look old, how funny that he was only a couple of years older than you or Luz.

His unfriendly face didn't help the current situation either, but that didn't matter. The point was that Jackovy had health insurance in his name, so why did the technicalities of the safe age of consent matter now?

"I'm 23, his MY husband, he's coming with me" You interrupted.

The opinion of two men in dark spandex didn't matter anyway. You're married? Perfect, the husband has more right to be with you in the ambulance.

Your friend stuck around while Luz stayed behind to see if anything could be salvaged from the wrecked apartment.

Neither you nor Jackovy or Luz felt sorry for the place, it didn't belong to either of you, it was just an old building used as a game room. But, some things were of sentimental value.

If they could be salvaged it was worth a try. Also, probably many of the drugs were there. Was a better option to clean it before the police started to seek there.

Getting to the hospital and getting your leg fixed was easy. Making sure the fake marriage paperwork and the fake ID Jackovy had gotten for you passed as real was the tricky part.

You and Luz had done a perfect job in creating all the false documentation in order to generate a fake ID.

Better job of adding a little more age to you.

They knew your ID was functional, as you had even been able to get your friend out of the police lockup on a couple of occasions.

But the fake marriage paperwork they weren't sure about. those were, in a better word, almost new. Not even more than a week.

They would not have been created had it not been for your friend's last minute idea to be covered in this way. Jackovy did it expontanea.

It was fraud that paper, not that your ID was any less fraud than that certificate, but at least you only had one ID.

Jackovy had several marriage certificates with different people's names on them. Some for a greencard, others like you, who needed to be able to use health insurance.

But the paper passed as valid, Jackovy's insurance cover most of the expenses and now you could get some rest before you could leave for Luz's now truly owned apartment.

The bad joints, at the end of the day, had ensured that you didn't lose the money you had saved… but for some reason had lured a falsely concerned family into the hallway outside the room you temporarily had in the hospital.

What the fuck were they doing there?

#batman #batfamily #dick grayson #jason todd #batfam #tim drake #batboys #batfamily fic #damian wayne #male oc #female oc #batfam angst #male reader #tw yandere #platonic yandere #yandere batman #yandere x reader #reader #yandere dick grayson #yandere dc

[toorurs]

COLUMBA

synopsis: rainbow roses represent love and passion. similar to the feelings you’ve harbored for lyney ever since the two of you were children, feelings full of determination and tenderness.you take the initiative to confess your feelings,  the cards are already laid out on the table, the choices have already been written out and decided. besides one: the one that reveals lyneys response. how will he react?

✧ pairing: lyney x reader | wordcount: 2.1k | content and warnings: fluff, angst, confessing feelings | prompt: unrequited love | oneshot

✧ authors note: i might dislike this one even more than the "wish you were sober" one... this one's just so much more choppier</3

✧ tags: @azullumi

event: STARCROSSED 2024

“and a rainbow rose for you!” 

the sly magician winks at you as he reaches out his gloved hand to yours. lyneys slender fingers are gracefully wrapped around the stem of the colorful flower. he looks at you, eyes full of anticipation as he awaits your reaction. 

his eyes twinkle like an amethyst - a gem that gleams and reflects the fluorescent light as it gets shone upon, presenting the purity that lies hidden beneath the depths of the pair of eyes. the irises that are drenched in a deep purple glint with a certain shimmer that you can’t quite make out. if you were to take a guess you’d say that they look hopeful, buoyant, almost fond. 

seriously, who were you to deny him? his smile is probably worth a fortune, it’s blithe practically dreamy. the ash blond is undeniably a beauty among the nation of justice - a seraphic seashell that lies buried in the fine sand, easily seeping through the tiny gaps of the palms as it is held with utter care. petite sand corns disappearing out of sight and the only object that remains in the hands is the mussel. 

it basks in the radiant sunlight and the sand that slipped out of the grasp of the fingers can only watch in envy, as the seashell continues to relish in the gentleness of the person who discovered it. the one who is allowed to see its beauty and all the secrets that are kept sealed beneath.

amid the vague living room light, lyney continues to shine as elegant as ever. his stage presence long-forgotten, revealing his true nature to you, the lyney whom you know, the one whom you grew up with, the one who makes your heart race. the lyney that shows himself to the outside world is simply just the celebrated magician of the court of fontaine but there was much more to lyney, so much more. 

to the people of fontaine he’s like the backside of a playing card, unaware of the image, the number, the symbol that is imprinted on it. but that’s not the case for you. unlike them you know lyney like the back of your hand. the two of you grew up together at the house of the hearth. under the care of father with lynette, freminet and the other children that resided there. 

no matter how many times lyney and lynette tried to trick you with one of their new learned magic tricks, you’ve always seen through them. nevertheless you weren’t able to deny that they were really impressive, especially for children of such a young age. naturally, over the years he grew up to be a grand magician, not only wrapping the audience that was seated in the rich red places in the court around his fingers, but also you. luring you in by coaxing mellow praises into your ear and simple gestures like this one, offering you a rainbow rose a day before a performance. 

an action that never fails to make you swoon.

his incandescent eyes, the ones that glow like a vibrant glass shard that got swept to the shore by the tide, his million dollar smile that is plastered on his pale face, they are the traits that make lyney look simply irresistible. 

(you don't think you could ever reject lyneys advances, after all you’ve already fallen far too deep into the bottomless abyss, also known as love, to search for your path out.)

right now, at this moment you think lyney looks absolutely majestic, heavenly even. taking a snapshot of this wouldn’t be enough to capture the beauty of lyney. neither would a portrait do the job well. the movements of the paintbrush are delicate, swiftly moving around the canvas, but they’re not enough. no matter how many brushstrokes were to be painted, they still wouldn’t be enough. 

(either way he’d outshine every other painting that gets hung next to his. he’s the muse that will always be out of everyone's reach.) 

simply because lyneys beauty, his bare nature, is something to keep etched into your mind, engraving it onto stone so that it will never fade or wash away, no matter the circumstances.

you reciprocate his action, accepting the flower. grasping the rainbow rose carefully, so that the stem doesn’t crinkle and eventually falls into two pieces or the blossom loses its petals. “my, what’s the occasion?” a performance awaits the folk of fontaine tomorrow. you already knew the answer, but, nevertheless you question him. lyneys honeyed voice is a sound you’ll never get tired of. listening to him as he talks never feels like a chore, rather, it feels like a voluntary course that isn’t important at all. but nevertheless you stick around, to not miss what others don't get to see.

“well, as you might already know, a performance awaits the folk of fontaine tomorrow.” the magician responds. you can only chuckle at that, predicting lyney has always been easy for you. 

“is that so? i can't wait.” you give him a small grin and take another peek at the flower. beautiful, you think to yourself as you look up to lyney once again. the corners of your mouth curve into a content smile. lyney stares right back at you and does the same, giving you a bright grin in return that makes your heart pump quickly. 

the brightness of lyneys smile competes with the one of the sun, it’s warm and welcoming. it works wonders like medicine, soothing and curing your wounds with a simple grin. lyney is out of this world, he's charismatic, making you fall for him head over heels. fun to be around, always making you laugh over stupid jokes. and not to mention caring. 

the first two buttons of his white dress shirt are unbuttoned, showing off his delicate collarbone. lyney was never particularly muscular, rather, he had a quite slender build.

“i’ve never put much effort into my physical training as in my shows. after all, i have an audience to bewitch with magic tricks, not my body."  you recall his words and the giggle he let out after.

some strands of his ash blonde hair are out of place, including his dyed one. his maroon colored hair slightly stands out, but you don’t mind, it's similar to the color of a maple leaf, vivid and lively. flying through the wind, admired by passersby as it floats around in the air. out of reach until someone takes the chance to grab it. 

“by the way, where’s the thank you?” lyney jokes in an offended manner. his sultry voice snapping you out of your former haze. 

“hm?” you tilt your head to the side.

“for the flower.” he points at the rose with his gloved finger. 

“ah, right. thanks a lot, it's really pretty.” you thank him by giving him another smile. before casting your gaze down to the rose again, admiring the colorful petals as you remember charlotte's words. 

“for example, magicians often use “rainbow roses” in their flower related performances to represent passion and romantic encounters.” her words stuck to you like a millstone around one’s neck. surely lyney knows what they mean, he’s not unaware what they symbolize right?

it makes you wonder if lyney is aware of your feelings, and possibly even returns them. lyney has always had a keen eye for the beauty of this world, attentively swaying his gaze around and admiring the elegance that lies within each individual. did lyney also see that kind of beauty in you? one that goes even further down, reaching into the inescapable depths. but then he’d face the ugliness that slummers at the bottom, despite that, how is lyney able to love you? 

for you the beauty of this planet has always been lyney. he’s the sun that you bask in, relishing in its warmth as the sun tendrils place delicate kisses on your body. the water that engulfs your body, plattering against your limbs and makes you feel refreshed. he’s the blood that runs through your veins, the one that makes you function properly.  

the question still lingers in the air: does lyney reciprocate your feelings? 

your grip around the rose is tight, fearing that it might slip out of your grasp when you’re inattentive and losing it. you watch lyney make his way to the stage, the crowd already awaits their renowned magician, waiting in and staring in awe as he performs another unpredictable magic trick. 

the air is thick, the tension increases at every passing second, for both you and the crowd. if lyney takes another step, you’ll lose the lyney you know, your lyney. instead you’ll have to watch as he takes up on his persona, even if it’s only for a mere hour, it always feels like an eternity to you, until you get to see the lyney whom you love again. 

besides the sound of lyney who was shuffling his cards thoroughly once again, it was dead silent.

“nervous?” lyney looks up to you, a knowing glint in his eyes. 

“huh?” you’re confused, what is he implying.

“the way you fiddle with your fingers.” he points at your hands with one of the cards, a red heart you notice. “you only do that when you're anxious.” lyney says. “come on, tell me what’s wrong, you know that i’m always here for you, right?” he gives you a reassuring smile, a genuine smile that isn’t there to satisfy his guests. 

sometimes you forget how easy it is for lyney to see right through you. you nod as a response to his observation. “yeah, ironic isn't it? i’m nervous even though you’re the one who’ll enter the stage at any given moment now.” you try to sound steady, trying to convince yourself. but your voice betrays you, it quivers.

“aww.” lyney coos at you. “you know i hate that expression on you, do you not?” the ash blond sighs dramatically, purple eyes still maintaining eye contact, a fond shadow casting over his pupils. “how am i supposed to go out and present, knowing that my best friend is dying from nervousness.” he jokes, shaking his head. before he looks up at you once again with a look that says “don’t worry.”

best friend. 

“lyney.“ you try to gather your courage, how does one confess their feelings to the person whom they adore?  lyney smiles at you “yeah? i’m all ears.”

“lyney, you’re probably already aware of my feelings. but i really like you.  i love you. i've loved you ever since we got introduced to one another, ever since we were children.” you don’t dare to look him into his eyes, too embarrassed by your confession just now. you play with the fabric of your freshly ironed shirt a bit, to distract yourself, as you await lyneys reactions.

“archons, since when were you this sentimental?” lyney laughs out. “that’s what you were afraid of telling me?” he takes a few steps so that he stands in front of you now. “gotten all shy now?” the magician teases before patting your head. the action makes you look up, greeted by lyneys smile . “i love you too. youre like another sibling to me.” he slightly tilts his head to the side. "even though we’re not blood related, it just feels like we’re family, don’t you think?”

“no! lyney that's not what i-” you protest but you get cut off by the announcement.

“and now ladies and gentlemen, presenting fontaines renowned duo, mr. lyney and ms. lynette! a big applause please!” 

“ah!” lyney looks behind him where everything was already set up and put in place. “i suppose that is my sign to leave. farewell!” he inches away from you. “let’s reunite after the show, shall we?” he winks at you and bids you goodbye before rushing off to make his way over to the stage.

you remain glued to the floor, frozen in place after you’ve just gotten rejected. you hope this is just another one of lyneys antics, a joke that he will later on reveal as faux and tell you that he reciprocates your feelings. but you know that he won't. yes, perhaps lyney is a liar, a good one at that. he has lied to a dozen people before, but never once to you. 

the rainbow rose in your head shines vividly in the dim lightning, its petals making it glow beautifully. you’re not sure what came over you, frustration, regret, remorse. you’re not certain. the petals that were once finely attached to the pistil, will be gone, you rip the petals off, one by one.

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

e/n: "i got sibling-zoned." "that's rough buddy."

© TOORURS 2024. stealing, copying, translating, reposting my works on other platforms is not permitted.

#— STARCROSSED 2024 !! #toorurs #—stellaronhvnters. #genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #lyney x reader #lyney fluff #lyney angst #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact angst #genshin angst #genshin fluff #genshin impact x you #lyney x you

[hazbinsimp777]

Hey

Can i please fanfic (Hazbin Hotel) Adam x fem reader x Lucifer

the reader is in a relationship with Adam, lucifer is intrigued by the reader and starts flirting with him

how does Adam react when witnessing this scene (Lucifer flirts and accosts the reader but the reader is not interested in him)

❗the reader does not know about Adam's connections with his previous wives (due to his pride, please use it)❗

LUCIFER X READER X ADAM

A/n: I love this concept so much! Thank you for the request anon! <3

✅️ Loyalty ✅️Protective and Violent Adam ✅️A little spice (end) ✅️ Fluff

!Warning: Reader is read as female and LONG before the battle in the season finale!

You are Adam's third and final wife, he had met you when you two had met in heaven. You only had died recently, having a good life on earth and genuinely being a good person. At first, you were very hesitant of Adam when he had asked you out. Seeing him only with his fuck boy personality, how he proudly bragged about how many people he has hooked up with.

Despite being in heaven and being the first man.

Nevertheless, your colleagues at your job had encouraged you to do so. As to being known for rejecting suitors who had asked you out. With much hesitation, you had accepted his offer. You recall being very nervous on your first date.

Soon you came to realize, under all of that masculinity, he was a total sweetheart to you. Behind closed doors of course, he started to become more trusting towards you. Coming to the conclusion on his true intentions, eventually, the two of you started dating. Which had lead to you having an wedding ring on your finger.

At that moment, Adam had given you the title of, "My sexy as fuck wife." Sure, you were never too keen on that title and Adam going around and announcing so. But you knew that only met Adam was proud to call you his. People had informed you of his past marriages, which lead to many questions in your mind.

Why hadn't he told you about these past relationships? As his new wife this puzzled you, was he not supposed to tell you everything? When confronting your husband about this, he suddenly had a change in attitude.

"Oh it's not important babe! I got you now and that's all I need!"

Noticing he obviously did not want to talk about his past, you had left the topic alone. Wanting to be a good wife, you promised to never ask about it again.

That is, until Lucifer questioned for an meeting with heaven regarding the growing population of hell. As one of heaven's biggest leaders, Adam was required to go. He tried to convince Sera to not go, but his request came denied. Adam was complaining to you all day when he was forced to go. You, for some support, asked Adam if you can, by any chance, accompany him to this meeting.

In your shared home, while Adam was bitching about this, you approached him, taking off his mask, cupping his face, "Maybe I can come with you. I know how much you dislike Lucifer, I can perhaps be your support or source of comfort."

Adam's eyes widened, his lips turned from a frown to an smirk, "Babe...." He started, picking you up, placing you on the counter, "You are a fucking genius! This could be my chance so show him my sexy ass wife!" He said, placing himself between your thighs.

You placed your finger on his lips, "Or...you can call me your beautiful and intelligent wife."

He rolled his eyes, "Yes Hot Stuff you are that too." At that it was decided, you are going to be at Adam's side of the meeting.

At the day of the meeting, you and Adam were called to meet in Heaven's meeting room, where as you can guess, the meeting will be held. For an odd reason, you were nervous, finding yourself fidgeting with your fingers. Sitting beside Adam, who he himself looks uneasy, it was quite obvious, even with his mask on.

"Babe?" Adam called you, turning his head towards you.

"Yes Adam?" You asked, turning your chair to the right, facing him.

He sighed deeply, "Stay beside me, whatever you do, do not leave my side." He warned.

This request confused you, "Why so?"

Adam groaned, "Just don't leave my fucking side okay!" His voice was firm and assertive. Not aggressive, but to the point it got his point across with you.

"Okay Adam." You said, turning your chair back toward the table. Continuing to fidget with your fingers. It only took a short moment until the door swinging open rung throughout the room.

Standing in the middle, Lucifer you assumed. The short man had a white top hat, a snake and apple wrapped around it and an cane with an apple on the top of it. Wearing long black boots, red eyes and blonde hair going back. You had to admit, he wasn't anything you would expect, very much shorter than you had pictured him. And he had no nose?

Nonetheless, Adam's grip on your hand had tightened, wrapping around your hand. Noticing this, you squeeze his hand, as an act of reassurance. Giving him a nod and smile. Looking down, you seen a small smirk appear on his face, his masked eyes softened.

The other angels had not arrived yet, you Adam and Lucifer being early for the meeting. Which meant, you all three were alone for the time being.

"Ah! Adam! We meet again." Lucifer walked up to Adam, swinging his cane in hand as his boots tapped against the floor.

"Lucifer, meet my hot wife right here, she is sexy, did I say she was my wife?" Adam bragged, showing you off to Lucifer.

Which was not out of character for Adam, but this was....a bit much from Adam. Why was he so determined to show you off to a man you hand't even met until now? Regardless, you weren't complaining, you loved it when Adam showed you off.

Lucifer's eyes scanned you, looking up and down, as if analyzing you. In which he hummed, putting both of his hands on his cane, "She is a looker I'll give you that." The short man smirked, taking a seat across from you. Adam was suprised that Lucifer had not mentioned Adam's past wives.

Something that was unknown to you or Adam, is that Lucifer was intrigued with you on first sight. Taking in your attractiveness, when he had seen Adam's arm around you, he instantly knew you were his new wife. But that did not bothered him whatsoever. Adam was giving Lucifer the most dirtiest glares known to man, occasionally glancing at him while he was talking to you.

In a matter of what seemed like hours, the other higher ranked Angels have arrived. Taking their seats, annoying the meeting had begun. During the whole meeting, Lucifer kept darting his eyes at you. You felt his sharp gaze on you, making you uncomfortable, not wanting to make this meeting worse for your husband, you brushed off the feeling.

The meeting had taken two hours, you and Adam were on the verge of falling asleep due to all of the boredom. You didn't even know what they were discussing, Adam didn't even say anything, what was the whole point of him coming in the first place? This truly did irritate you!

"Adam, a word please?" Sera called Adam, standing from her seat to the door. A serious expression written on her face.

Your husband looked at you with pleading eyes, then back at Sera, "Can we just talk later Sera? I need to stay with my fucking hot wife." He tried sounding normal, but his voice kept cracking.

"No. This will not be negotiated." Sera commanded.

You got up and gave Adam a kiss on the cheek on his mask, to give him more confidence. "I will be fine Adam, I promise, go do what you need to." You assured him.

Adam groaned, "M'kay Sweet Cheeks, be right back." After that statement, he went on his way, walking beside Sera. Turning to look at you occasionally before the doors had closed.

Now, it was just you and Lucifer in the meeting room, it did not help that he was seated right in front of you across the table. With a hum, Lucifer pulled his chair, walking around the table towards you. You felt your blood go cold, eyes widening, why was he walking towards you? Surely you are no interest to the sin of pride, right?

A tap of his cane hit the ground echoed the room, being the only source of sound.

"Tell me Dear, why are you with Adam?" He leaned on the table, putting a finger on your chin.

With pure disgust, you gently take his finger off of your chin, "I love him very much and because we are married." You told him, "And I see you are as well." You point at his own wedding ring.

Lucifer simply brushed this off like a spec of dust on his coat, "Oh that is not important gorgeous." He leaned on the table with his arm, "You do know Adam's history with his wives right?"

"Not much at all and I do not intend to know more." You said firmly, tapping your finger against the table.

"As it is known knowledge is power Beautiful, and I know you must be smart as you are divine." Lucifer held your hand, giving it a gentle kiss.

"Ew! As I have said before I am a taken woman!" You slip your hand away from his grasp.

"What the fuck is this?!" Adam exclaimed, staring at everything in disbelief. Rushing to your side, using his wing to pull you closer to him, staring at Lucifer with pure fury and hatred.

"What? Me and your supposed wife were just having a conversation between adults." Lucifer said.

"Listen here you nose less fuck! Stay away from my wife, you know what? Get the fuck out of here, NOW!" Adam commanded, pointing to the door.

"Why? Afraid I might take this one too?" Lucifer teased, both of his hands rest on his cane as he gave Adam a smirk.

Your eyes widened, "Adam, what is he talking about?" You ask.

Adam's face went tense, his masked eyes widening, "N-nothing hot stuff, I uh- don't know what he is talking about." He stuttered, not even looking at you.

"Too prideful to tell her-" Lucifer got cut off by Adam punching him, Lucifer was not able to defend himself in heaven. Due to his abilities being taken away from heaven.

This action from your husband has taken you by surprise. There have been times when Adam had been jealous, he would simply tell them off, maybe a punch or two. And you two will be off your way.

But this was different.

This was fill with many emotions. Ones with pure jealousy, rage and fear.

Every punch he gave Lucifer was personal, Adam was laughing like an maniac, "Your in MY house BITCH!" He kept saying with every punch. You had to get Sera and other higher ranked Angels involved.

With being dragged away from the sin of pride, Adam kept lying, "You get the fuck away from MY WIFE YOU SLITHERY FUCK!" After that, Sera demanded Lucifer to return to Hell. While you were right next to Adam once he had calmed down.

You were compressing his wings, which always calmed him down when you did it. He had his arms crossed and a cute mad expression on his mask, grumbling curse words under his breath.

"Do you mind telling me what was that about?" You asked softly, but in a gentle but demanding tone.

"Fuck..." Adam cursed under his breath. Looking down at you, "Do you really have to know?"

You only nodded, "As your wife, I want to know. Not out of curiosity, but because I want to know you better. So I have a better understanding of you. Just know I will love you no matter what." You assured him, putting your forehead against his.

"I am so lucky to marry you...." Adam started, then that is when you two shared a kiss. You felt Adam smile against your lips. He told you everything about Lucifer and his past wives. In which you comforted him and assured him, Lucifer would never steal you away from him. Or any other man for that matter.

"You know, you standing up to Lucifer was kind of hot and sexy as fuck Babe." Adam whispered in your ear, "Makes me want to fuck a baby in you." Adam said, gripping your ass.

"And wholesome moment ruined." You muttered.

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?"

A/N: I hope this was up to your standards Anon! Request are open, terms in pinned post!

Drink water and Stay Healthy Lovlies! <3

#hazbin lucifer #hazbin adam #adam x reader #lucifer x reader #hazbin adam x reader #hazbin lucifer x reader

[myosotisa]

Sex, Love, and Other Crazy Ideas - s.h.

ǁ  summary: Steve has always felt like he loves too much. Sometimes it scares him. But it doesn't scare you.

ǁ tags: smut. plot with descriptions of smut. kinda dark!Steve?? obsessive thoughts, possessive behavior, unhealthy attachment, but it's consenual. you accidentally cut your finger, so blood is mentioned. oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v, creampie, hickies galore, body worship, a small amount of bloodplay. no pronouns, no y/n, afab!reader, nickname for you is sweetheart. I... have no reasonable explanation for this. I don't even know what to say. Happy Sunday I guess

ǁ word count: 1.6k

The intensity of love had always been overwhelming to Steve Harrington.

They say love can make you do crazy things. Like throwing yourself in front of someone to protect them. Like a spouse doing something they dislike every day because they know their partner appreciates it. Like a mom suddenly finding the strength to move a car to save her child.

Love made Steve a protective, caring, possessive man.

Most of it was shown through his actions. Acting as a chauffeur for Robin and all the teens he "babysits." Going out of his way to help someone, especially if they are having a bad day. Planning small events for the people he is closest to, so they can all get together and have a good time.

But when you came along, it felt different.

You were kind, selfless, understanding. Compassionate and empathetic, sometimes to your own detriment. At first you actively resisted Steve's desire to wait on you hand and foot, but had learned to accept that it killed him to reject the affection. You told him time and time again that he didn't have to do all these things for you, that you just loved him for who he was. He told you that was just how he showed he loved you too.

Sometimes the intensity of his love for you turned sour. He had a jealous streak – could be paranoid about the intentions of people he didn't know that were with you. He never forced you away from people or kept you from events. Just kept a watchful eye and a mental note, sometimes sought reassurance that you were his and only his, and made sure no one ever got even close to hurting you.

He bought you a little necklace with his initials. Was nervous as hell to give it to you, worried about what you might think. But you were delighted, ecstatic even, and had started to wear it everyday. Even talked about getting him a chain or a bracelet that had your initials on it too.

That night he'd made you come you over and over again until you passed out from exhaustion. Had fucked you into sweet oblivion. And the whole time, that necklace slid across your skin. The only thing you wore. That little piece of metal that said you were his.

He'd fidget it with it sometimes – fixing the chain so the clasp was behind your neck, rubbing the S between the tips of his fingers absentmindedly when you sat in his lap. You thought it was cute. Enjoyed the feeling of being his and how proud he was to be yours.

Sometimes the intensity of his love for you overwhelmed him. He wanted nothing more than to keep you in his bed forever, 24/7 spent with your skin on his. Wrapped up tight in his arms, or your thighs trembling as they pressed into his ears, or his cock buried deep in your warm, wet, perfect pussy until the end of time.

It wasn't a realistic thing to want, of course. But a man could dream.

And he dreamed often. Fucking you until you passed out every night you would let him. Waking up from a dream about you that had him sliding under the sheets, parting your beautiful thighs, and worshipping you awake. Begging you to let him taste you, sometimes on his fucking knees, steady and loving hands squeezing at your waist and hips as he pleaded.

You hardly ever denied him. Tried your hardest to take care of him in return, even when he insisted he wanted nothing more than to make you feel good.

After too many times having to go out into the world with a mosaic of bruises along both sides of your throat, you'd had to put some boundaries up. No hickies in visible places. He'd whined and tried to bargain but you were steadfast.

Fine. He'd litter you with little loving bruises in spots only he would be able to see. Scarlet paintings along your thighs, your collarbones, your tits.

One night, he'd already been sucking and biting bruises into your skin for what felt like hours. Determined to turn your skin into a constellation of pink, red, and purple with his mouth. A devotee that wanted nothing more than to worship every inch of you.

He was hyper focused on a spot on your chest – drawing the skin between his teeth and then soothing it with his tongue. Over and over as blood drew closer to the surface, warming as the blood vessels popped and the mark bloomed.

It was like he could feel your heart beating beneath his lips, like maybe if he used his teeth in just the right way, he could break the surface of your skin. Free some of the blood from your veins, the very life force of your being, and consume it until the wound stops bleeding.

He didn't want to hurt you. No, never wanted to hurt you. But the idea of consuming you, of possessing you so thoroughly, made it seem like a little bit of pain might not be so bad.

It was not an urge he ever acted on. Scared of scaring you, scared of what it meant that he wanted to do that. But he just couldn't help it. He loved you so much that he didn't quite know what to do with himself. It was like he wanted to live beside you at every moment, live inside you. He wanted to crawl under your skin and stay there permanently, or maybe have you crawl under his instead.

The need to possess you entirely sometimes made him act without thinking.

He heard a surprised gasp from the kitchen, followed by a pained hiss. It took mere moments to reach your side, ready to protect you, to make sure you were safe. The kitchen knife was abandoned on the cutting board, your hand cradled to your chest.

"Lemme see, sweetheart," he held out his loving hands with concern. You gingerly showed him the wound – a clean slice on the tip of your index finger. Not too deep, nothing too dangerous, but enough that it was steadily leaking blood on your skin. "Let's go get you cleaned up, okay?"

And you nodded, allowing him to lead you to the bathroom, standing dutifully by as he procured the first aid kit from beneath the sink. He gently took your hand in his own, marveled at the feeling of your skin on his, at the difference in your hands. Still enough to distract him after all this time.

But you were in pain, maybe even a little scared, and he had to focus.

After warning you that it might sting a little, he carefully cleaned the wound, cooing apologies and murmuring how good you were doing as you winced and tried not to pull away from it. Once he was satisfied, he went to retrieve a bandage but was stopped short when he turned back to look at you.

You were looking up at him with reverence, with comfort, with love. Like he was all you wanted and more. Like he was the only one who you trusted to make you feel better, like he was the only one who could heal you.

His breathing hitched in his chest. You were looking up at him with pleading, devoted, wide eyes, your cut had started to bleed just a little bit again in his hands, and he was struck with the overwhelming urge to swallow you whole.

To consume you – body and soul.

He didn't think before he brought your hurt finger up to his lips. At first he pressed a gentle kiss to the wound, loving and apologetic for the pain you had endured. When you melted into a sweet, syrupy smile, and when he licked at his lips and tasted just a touch of iron, he took the tip of your finger into his mouth and sucked.

You gasped, eyes wide and lips parted. He held your finger there, gently, and searched your face for some sign of concern or maybe even disgust. Surprise was there, plain as day, but nothing that looked negative. You didn't pull away, didn't move, barely breathed.

Experimentally, he laved his tongue over the wound. Bursts of metallic blood spreading across his taste buds as he did so. And he thought maybe he was hearing things when you whimpered.

When you made that noise again, his cock throbbed so hard in his jeans he thought he might've spontaneously came in his pants.

And while you had questions, and he had just a little bit of shame circling in his thoughts, it didn't matter right now. Not as he let your finger fall from his mouth, lifted you up onto the edge of the bathroom counter, and fell to his knees between your thighs like a man possessed.

In the following hours, dinner long forgotten, he took you apart thread by thread. Made your body shiver, shake, and seize. Praised you, lovingly degraded you, claimed you, pleaded for you to scream his name. Filled you to the brim with his cum, used his fingers to fuck it back into you until he was ready to go again. Which never took long, not with how you looked up at him like he hung the moon and stars in the sky.

That night, he broke his record for the amount of orgasms he had given you in a single day. And still held you as you passed out in his arms and felt an itch beneath his skin that begged for more.

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thanks for reading! please reblog and leave a comment if you liked it, they mean the world to me <3

and yes, I will be bringing this up in therapy tomorrow

#steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington blurbs #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #dark!steve harrington #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington oneshot #myos ideas #myo4harrington

[ckret2]

What does bill usually eat and drink? And how often? Does he eat when the rest of the humans do?

First choice:

When there's a meal being served—such as Abuelita cooking dinner or Stan grilling burgers—Bill eats whatever everyone else eats. (Provided he got to see Abuelita cook—to ensure cyanide wasn't an ingredient in his serving.) This accounts for maybe 15% of his meals.

Second choice:

If he happens to be in the kitchen at the same time as someone else, he'll ask them to open the fridge/cabinets to let him get food for himself or, more rarely, ask them to prepare something he isn't allowed to prepare for himself. This means he'll often eat at the same time as them, because swooping into the kitchen while THEY'RE eating means he can get food too.

When he does have full kitchen access, he creates the most disgusting concoctions known to mankind.

Human brains are wired from infancy to find almost all tastes disgusting until they've had them enough to learn to appreciate them (i.e., accept they aren't poisonous)—why kids are generally pickier eaters than adults. The Axolotl trusts that Bill knows enough about human diets to know what is and isn't food—he does—so Bill didn't get given a baby palate. Instead, he's the opposite: he finds almost all tastes okay. Nothing really tastes bad to him.

So his measure for food that "tastes good" isn't QUALITY of taste, but QUANTITY of taste. Bland food is disgusting. The more and stronger flavors a food has, and the more different they are from each other, the more he likes it.

When making his own food he wants maximum flavor for minimum effort. This is why he has a tendency to take as many condiments as he can, no matter how poorly they go together—in fact, ESPECIALLY if they go poorly together—mix them into a slurry, and then drop in enough solid food to cover his body's minimum nutritional needs. (He would do the same thing with spices, but the spices are kept in a cabinet and it's just not worth the trouble to him to specifically ask for access.)

As of chapter 39, he's no longer willing to ask someone else to help prepare something for him, and won't ask Ford to so much as open the fridge for him. Full kitchen access used to account for about 35% of his meals, now it's more like 25%.

Third choice:

If no one's in the kitchen, he won't go looking for someone; he'd rather starve than plea for food from the people who took his food access away. Instead, he'll just eat whatever he can scrounge off the open shelving. That means no food that requires refrigeration, cooking, or microwaving; and no food that's canned, in glass jars, or needs scissors to open. In practice, this means a whole lot of junk food—chips, cookies, candy, jerky, cereal, soda. The most nutritious thing he has regular and easy access to is peanut butter. He has a lot of peanut butter sandwiches. He dislikes peanut butter sandwiches, but he understands nutrition better than most humans and knows chips and jerky can only carry him so far. Scrounging accounts for 60% of his meals.

Beyond all that:

He likes triangle-shaped foods because he is, in fact, that much of an egotistical dork. He will legitimately get angry about nachos with circular or rectangular tortilla chips.

And (with Mabel's encouragement) he's become a fan of dumping sprinkles on as many things as possible. You know how grocery stores sell a bunch of different mixes of sprinkles? Different styles & colors & textures & shapes? Mabel has brought a WIDE variety of sprinkles into the house, and is teaching Bill the fine art of mixing sprinkles artistically for maximum aesthetic value. He likes the fancy-looking gold/silver/white varieties.

He drinks too much—usually, but not exclusively, to get to sleep. This is a bad thing. If called on this, he gets defensive, suggests he needs it like a "medication" to numb the discomfort of fitting a triangular soul in a human body—like taking medicine to prevent a body from rejecting a donor organ—and that the humans wouldn't understand it so they have no room to criticize. This is a VERY bad thing. I'd say he's speedrunning alcoholism, except he's continuing a pattern of substance abuse he had as a triangle, so tbh he was already there.

#anonymous #ask #bill goldilocks cipher

[chantsdemarins]

The Breath of the Æsir 🏰 (Loki x Reader) Chapter 2: The Stranger

Okay friends, I re-wrote Chapter 2. I was not happy with it after a friend pointed out to me that it needed work. Making me remember I really need a beta reader! *Any takers?

I hope those who might have read the first one will give this version a try!! As always reblogging and comments are the most amazing experience for me as a writer in this community. Thank you for reading and waiting. I am trying to get on a schedule I can stick to!

Summary: This is Loki's side of the story so far, as the world he finds himself in stirs into turmoil. What will the nature of your relationship be under these circumstances?

Smut Meter: Calm wildfire status

Word Count: 3,141 (give or take)

Loki

Loki was hiding among the Æsir. His true origin was not of theirs. Fárbauti, a frost giant, had been responsible for pulling him out of the tight silence and into form, so he could live among the Gods. A thin agreement had occurred between Odín and the Jötunn. This agreement was unknown to Loki. Odín would raise him. All his life, stirring in his veins was the blood of another people, another realm. The ornate mirrors in Asgard reflected back to him the image of a handsome spell caster with Æsir features. There was only ever the slightest feeling, that perhaps, his near-constant discontent, was related to the architecture of a family lie.

He knew where there was limitation, there was often equal illumination. Therefore, this conflict gave Loki insight into many aspects of the universe, some of which he would never have known had he not been born for deceit. This dual vision of light and dark created a natural and gradual buildup of powers, which he had no reason not to abuse. Where he lacked morals, he was tempered by circumstance back into some code of character that appeased both his father and whatever party he had offended by his lack of grace and concern. However, from time to time, something would cause him to change, more permanently, more absolutely. These events were so profound when they happened that the Skalds, both in Asgard and Midgard, told of them. Sometimes humans would be caught in the lava of the Gods' path. You were one of those humans. The day Loki lay close to one of his possible deaths, you had found him.

He was banished because he had seen enough. His contrary disposition had rejected the Northman’s insistence on placing his royal family at the heart of their bloody conquest. Thor, Freyja, Frigg—and Odín—had been brought deep into the conflict moving across the belly of Midgard. They used incantations and sacrifices to move the will of the Gods in their favor. Loki disliked this immensely. He did not like to be appeased with tokens. The ground of Asgard was saturated with the blood of Midgard. This disturbed him so much and ate at his being until he could stand it no longer. He cursed Thor, cursed Odín for the part they played in encouraging such worship.

In the throes of his discontent, Loki quickly discovered a God cannot have everything. For example, he could not have his opinion and his magic. Odín told him to go see for himself. Go see why the humans needed the Gods. See their fragility and need for guidance. He would be begging him to return to Asgard. “Go experience their ignorance with only a sword to protect you from it,” Odín had said to him.

When Loki decided to take a great risk, a great calamitous excitement would concurrently erupt. His enduring life and the lives of the Gods needn’t be so pristine and eternal. He longed for the shorter life of the Midgardians. He wanted to feel what life would be like if you only had a few years before you became permanent food for the beetles and worms. He needed to feel time slipping away from his grasp. So, without any seiðr, he nakedly stepped through the Bifrost and fell to Earth, fell to the home of the Midgard serpent, one of his many children, of which he was not the only father.

When he opened his eyes and began to walk across the hillside, so indulgently green it hurt. He took a moment and said a prayer to the elemental spirits that spun such colors into life on Midgard. They were independent of any God's influence, even ones with their full powers. The elementals were bonded to Midgard herself as servants. Loki could only admire their spinning of forms; he still had incredible vision even without any magic. He could see into their structural design and could listen to the hum of their cellular respiration. Loki was not the God of such things as fertility, but he felt himself in a keen understanding of it. He truly saw his station in the nine realms as a God responsible for making life, more than the ending of it. Not that any of the Gods would ever understand this about him. Creators often end up destroying their most precious creations just because they can. Loki had come to Midgard to change this.

He walked with careful trepidation; he was mortal now, and even though his heart soared with the thrill of his new lot, he did not want his tenure on Earth to be over so quickly. So, he cautiously guarded his path over the verdant hillside in the quiet of the afternoon. Things were seemingly calm, still, which actually began to worry Loki. Silence could mean only two things: peace or death. As he continued walking to gain a better view, he encountered a sight he was not prepared to see just yet. The ruins of a village burned in a heavy cascade of smoke. He quickly remembered he had no power to change the circumstances before him. He thought of Thor—would he truly celebrate this use of his name? He wished they would have the courage to do as he did, to come and see the work of the humans. Loki would have to be the eyes of the gods this time. Just as his contemplation ended, he felt the ground beneath him bend in a rhythmic flutter—horses. It was the same in any realm; the beasts were among the most powerful of all creations. Some could even fly, but not these. These heavy beasts carried their masters, who likely spotted him from their outposts.

They saw a stranger overlooking their burned village and identified him as one of the raiders, one of the pillagers, not as the God who made such acts possible. He looked up just in time to see a sword brandished by one of the riders. With a quick and skillful blow, he was impaled in his stomach. It had only been a few hours since his arrival, and already he was vanquished by the Norns. He fell, consumed by defeat and physical pain, his armor pierced. They spoke in their language, seemingly arguing whether they should take him captive. Perhaps they would have if they had not just suffered such a great loss. They left him to die and rode away without looking back.

The Encounter

Loki was consumed with a pain he had never felt before; it was completely debilitating. No sooner had he arrived on Midgard as a human he was swept away into the saga of their fragility. He couldn’t believe he was once so interested to experience this, to feel his life expiring and his pulse weaken. His heart was slowing, and every breath felt like he was uncertain if yet another would follow. He now worried that if he were to die on Midgard like this, his death would remain unknown, and his family would not find him before the vultures tore the newly minted mortal flesh from his bones. He fell into a fever quickly and began to dream of the frozen landscapes of his true birth home, of Jötunheim. His Asgardian façade was fading with every labored breath.

It was just his luck that as he could take no further steps, he reached the courtyard lined with thorny gorse, which pierced the white of his skin as he fell through the yellow flowers, leaving droplets of blood forming from yet another location other than his stomach. He called out something from a tongue he knew from Midgard, although he knew not where and when it was from. He saw you in the doorway before he closed his eyes; he wasn’t sure if he would open them again. He hoped that if he did, you would be there beside him. It was the tiniest of wishes; he was sure you were a Valkyrie. Not having enough blood in his veins to remember there were no Valkyries on Earth, his eyes shut, and the world of Midgard faded from his senses.

He had felt the jostling of stitches, the pulling of thread against his taut skin. He saw you, Valkyrie, with golden threads weaving his wound closed. He swore he heard you tell him his body was a tapestry, one you could embroider. He laughed at the thought of being sewn together by a fierce battle goddess of the nine realms. He worried about his weakness. He did not like the vulnerability that consumed him as he fought to return to the living. Part of him remembered the icy cold feeling of space he once felt as he let go of Thor and drifted off into the void, only to be intercepted by a race of beings so deadly and diabolical, he knew he wouldn’t be able to die enough times to satisfy their lust for power and domination. Part of him rested in the knowledge that you would make him whole again. The Norns had led him to a warrior who was also a weaver, a tailor.

He Lives, for Now

"Gef þú seiðr þinn mér," Loki mumbled once he was finally able to awaken. Sweat covered his face. A chill coursed through him. You had saved him just as he had predicted. He was still alive, but he was not yet well at all. "What is seiðr?" you immediately asked. You did not have what this man was asking for, and you would not be robbed of what you did have. Leaping to your feet, you grabbed the knife you had uncovered from his person while the man slept. Loki found himself once again at the receiving end of iron—only this time, it was his own.

"How quickly I forgot this is how people communicate, regardless of their station," Loki mused, clutching his stomach, fingers running along your needlework which now adorned him. "Communicate? Sir, you are in my home. I saved your life, and now you ask me for something else. What else could you want, unless you are the thief and murderer my servants say you are? Are they right? Have you come to kill us?" Your voice was a barely audible trill, but every vowel entered his ear as if it were a drum beating away shadows inside of him. You looked so shaky and unsure Loki was immediately disoriented.

As a Valkyrie, you would be more skillful, potentially than him. Why were you not wielding your own blade? Loki’s mind puzzled in a million different directions. In the chosen tongue, he rattled off an inquiry about where he was, now remembering he was on Earth as he came to. He needed you to confirm it. You told him the name of this small village, and Loki more solidly realized you were actually a human woman, seemingly. He found his voice hidden beneath the swell of feelings rising in his chest. "Do you know how to use that knife, woman? Don't wield something you aren't prepared to use, and why would you undo your handiwork?" Loki pointed to the careful stitches across his body. "You know me not, sir," you retorted. "I have unraveled nearly all the needlework I started. I have thrashed threads from one tapestry to another; I have no finished embroidery to show for it, so sir, flicking the threads that hold your guts in would be no long consideration."

The words that flew out of your mouth betrayed all your education and training. Never in your life had you spoken to a man like this, not to your father and surely never to your husband, but this man seemed to be able to feel and hear anything you might say. You didn’t know why you knew that, but you did. Perhaps it was the sewing him up that gave you such a perspective. The candlelight study of his stomach. You thought of the fine line that jutted across his abdomen where you had let your fingers trace in a kind of stoic appreciation for a moment while applying your stitches to his wound. You suspected your husband’s stomach did not have muscular curvature. The stranger was the first man you’d ever seen naked. You let yourself consider that for the briefest of moments before you returned to your senses and your defense of your home. By no means had you an understanding of just who this man was and what he was capable of even in his weakened state.

Loki continued to consider your origins. You could not be a simple incarnation of a human. Perhaps you were actually Asgardian, another traveler like himself, grown discontent with the trappings of the ethereal realm and transplanted to Midgard. He had known others who had come; his idea of leaving had not been a unique one. The Norns might have given him some grace after all, by leading him to you. Yet if you were a fragile mortal with a much shorter life than his, you wore your timeline with such grace, that it completely startled him. You were closer to the end of your short life than the beginning, perhaps you knew this and were prepared to defend what little you had accumulated. Or maybe it was something else that inspired such bold words. "What do they call you?" you finally spoke again, daring to continue. "Loki." His name was a rune itself, a spell, the only magic he had left. He wondered if you would feel its power. "Loki," you repeated, his name flowed from your heart to your feet, causing your body to feel heavy. You landed on the velvet living room chair with a crash. Loki, who had been situated in the other chair, leaped up beyond the ability his body should have allowed. "Woman," he said, daring to near you. "Please wake." He had not expected you to faint.

As he drew closer to you, he wasn't sure if you had fainted or passed to some other realm. You looked so peaceful. He held your head and for a moment dared to place a strand of your hair behind your ear. Your eyes struggled to open. "Loki," you murmured, not having heard the name before, but its composition—the four sounds—collided, perhaps stealing your breath. His concern for you was evident on his face, but it quickly faded, replaced by something akin to fear. Loki was startled by how swiftly Midgard's emotions were becoming his own. He had known so little of fear and now he was becoming proficient in all its shades and hues.

Suddenly a deep knock on the door and frantic voices could be heard from outside in the courtyard. A group of tenants had gathered, yelling and frantic. Perhaps the worst of your fears had materialized. Not only were you harboring a man, but now the townsfolk knew and had come to confront you about it in your husband’s absence. You did not want to open the door. You glanced at Loki, who had stepped further back into the darkness of the living room while you found your footing. "Lady, you should answer them," Loki's voice was a mere shadow, yet you trusted it to your surprise. Elinor was also nowhere to be found, and you were once again left to make decisions by yourself. This introduction with the stranger would have to further wait. With all your strength, you walked across the room and unlocked the large, heavy door. Before you could open it fully, the crowd of tenants crashed into your home and fell against you. There were strict conditions under which the manor lords ruled, and such an intrusion was likely less a group coming to judge your guest but one of desperation you immediately recognized.

You gasped for air and tried to calm them, beseeching one of the tenants to explain what had happened. "They are here, the slaughter wolves," Æthaldan, the young blacksmith, finally spoke wildly. The rest of their voices were a blur, a scattered cacophony you couldn't decipher. The "slaughter wolves," who sought to take the land you managed, had been kept at bay by bribe or sword wielded in temporary acts to push them back, to change their minds about the worth of the land. Words had been spoken by the manor lords about the rocky soil being no better than the soils of where they came. Their crops would not find purchase here either. You knew this to be true in your heart since your land had been barren, and that barrenness had crept into all places of your marriage, including your womb. Nothing but the yellow gorse you had planted around the periphery had grown.

Suddenly from behind the crowd, you heard the sound of your closest companion, "What are we to do?" Elinor had been able to come back to the manor from where she had been in the village; she was now frantic as well as she pushed Æthaldan and the others out of her way to get to you. You surveyed the tenants, as you embraced your friend; none had weapons worthy of the name. One held a reaping iron, another something procured from the hearth, likely nothing in comparison to the weapons of the intruders. You needed time to think, but there was none. You looked down at the weapon you had lifted from the stranger while he slept. You had nearly forgotten you were holding it, clasped tightly in your hand. You tried to hide it in your skirt pockets, but it was clear no one had noticed what you were holding in their panic, not even Elinor.

"Please keep them safe until I return!" you finally shouted at your friend, knowing the best she could do was bolt the door once everyone was inside. Your instructions were curt, "Call to the others, have them come to the house," your voice trailed off as you ran through the corridor of the manor, looking for the stranger. You wondered where he had gone; he was still injured but not knowing his nature of intent you imagined all possible things as you searched for him in the curtained darkness of your halls. Your thoughts ceased when you came upon his nearly collapsed form; he was barely able to stand. Without thinking further, you handed him back his knife, taking his hand and placing it to it, folding his fingers around the hilt. "Help us now, I saved you, now you save us," you demanded. "This is your weapon, use it,” you reiterated when you noticed he was not stirred to action. His blue eyes were crestfallen, “Lady, I cannot,” were his words before he handed the blade back to you.

#loki #tom hiddleston #loki laufeyson #loki fanfiction #loki fandom #loki fanfic #mcu #loki fluff #loki smut #loki x reader #norse aesthetic #norse mythology #norse pantheon #norse gods #norse paganism

[animementrash]

AOT veterans headcanons

Characters: Levi Ackerman, Erwin Smith, Hange Zoe

Tags: just random thoughts on the main three vets, they/them pronouns for Hange, some may be ooc?, SFW only

A/N: Here are my headcanons based on how I percieve them, I have some more for the rest of the characters but I'm posting only three for now because they are longer than expected. (I also have NSFW ones but I'm waiting until I get more comfortable with sharing my thoughts before posting those) Hope you like them and thank you for reading!

Levi Ackerman:

Washes his hands constantly, almost too many times a day.

Would rather fight a titan with an arm tied to his back than do the dishes. The mere thought of soggy leftovers sticking to his hands makes him gag.

Avoids going out to public places because he’s aware of his popularity inside the walls and doesn’t know how to act when he’s the center of attention.

Following the previous topic and contrary to popular beliefs, this man would never reject a gift/letter/trinket given to him by a local. It can be the most random thing but he will always accept them with a small nod, he’s deeply thankful for their blind trust in him.

Yawns and stretches ALL THE TIME, he is known for sleeping as little as 3 or 4 hours per night and while he’s able to go on with his day without problems, this doesn’t mean he isn’t feeling drowsy all the time so he’s almost always letting out quiet yawns and stretching his arms to ease the soreness of his body.

Sneezes a lot when cleaning. It’s not rare at all to hear him sneeze when he’s dusting or sweeping, if someone says “Bless you” to him he’ll quietly mumble a “thanks” before getting back to cleaning.

Has a favorite seat at the dining table and gets grumpy when someone takes that place before him.

Speaking of dinner, this man eats SLOW AS HELL, he’s usually one of the last to finish his meal.

Is constantly thirsty because he refuses to drink anything but tea.

Has memorized everyone’s footsteps and knows who’s coming to his office before they even knock the door.

Cleans and calibrates his ODM gear daily even when he’s not planning on using it.

Doesn’t like to be in new recruit’s trainings because he gets anxious when most of them hurt themselves while getting used to work with the ODM gear.

Trims his hair weekly, most people believe he shapes his haircut and has hairdresser-like skills when in reality all he does is trim it to avoid losing the shape it already has.

Can’t read cursive even if his life depends on it. One time Erwin handed him a memo written in cursive and he got so frustrated because he didn’t understand what it said that he ended up ignoring the memo. Turns out Erwin needed him to turn in some reports earlier than usual and got scolded because of it.

Loves eating fruit. Fruit was considered an ultra luxury item in the underground so when he realized how much fruit he could eat once he was in the scouts, he got obsessed with it.

Whines and complains a lot for a person who’s known to be grumpy and stoic. Ask him to do something he dislikes and you’ll hear a bunch of huffs and puffs before he goes to do it.

Talks with his horse. A lot.

Wanders through the empty halls when he can’t sleep and doesn’t bother to bring a candle to light the path, the cadets now believe there is a ghost haunting the headquarters.

Erwin Smith:

Hums and whistles a lot, he’s always making some kind of noise while signing reports or walking down the halls. You can hear this man before seeing him.

Takes more time than he’s willing to admit in styling his hair every morning. He is a firm believer that appearance matters a lot so he puts a lot of effort on his.

 Has a specific pair of glasses he uses when reading, almost no one knows about it besides Hange who helped him choose the right ones.

Talks in his sleep, it can vary between mumbled nonsense to full on speeches.

Has a journal that is more like a diary because he writes all his thoughts/hopes/fears on it but he’d be damned if someone refers to it as a diary and not a journal.

Is lowkey afraid of insects but plays it cool when he comes across one because he doesn’t want to come out as “weak”.

Snaps his fingers when trying to remember something.

People think he’s a very wise and smart man because it’s very common to find him “deep in thoughts”, truth is he just tends to zone out and disassociates like crazy.

Loves dogs, he’s the biggest dog person in the scouts. Often stops and pets dogs he finds while taking a walk downtown.

Cleans and polishes his shoes every night before going to sleep. Whenever his face gets reflected on the shiny shoe a smile appears on his lips.

Not always but sometimes sneaks out behind the barracks to smoke some cigarettes, tries to hide all evidence afterwards because Levi will start complaining about the awful smell.

Would rather be late to an early meeting than go without shaving, has to shave daily because by the end of the day he already has a shadow beard.

Is well aware of his attractiveness and uses it to his advantage when needed.

Visits his father’s grave every Sunday and spends most of the day there. Sometimes brings a book and reads it out loud.

Smacked his face after trying to see through a clear glass Levi had cleaned earlier, after laughing for several minutes Levi scolded him for dirtying his glass.

His wardrobe is full of neutral-colored clothes, he sucks at matching outfits so goes with the safest options.

Knows very well Levi can’t read cursive so when he’s bored, he scribbles gibberish on a paper and gives it to Levi saying it’s important to get it done by end of day just to get a laugh.

Has relatives living inside the walls who refuse to acknowledge him, some of them even pretend he died the same day his dad did.

Has an ongoing bet with Hange to see who makes Levi laugh the most, so far Erwin is winning by one but only because he accidentally fell from his horse and Levi found it hilarious.

Arm-wrestles with Miche a lot, especially after they had a few beers.

LOVES dancing, this man knows how to dance and isn’t afraid to show it. (Sadly for him he also loves to clap when dancing and this makes everyone laugh)

Hange Zoe:

Is both street-smart and book-smart, is the only person who has beaten Erwin in a chess match and also beaten Levi in a wrestling match.

Almost always has pencils sticking out of their hair, they place them there for a moment and totally forget about them.

Levi restricted them from using fountain pens because they would spill ink and stain everything and everywhere.

The reason why their glasses have straps on is not only because the risk of them falling off is smaller but also because according to them “it makes them look cooler”.

Wanted to join Erwin in giving instructions to Levi written in cursive but since their handwriting wasn’t as good as Erwin’s they opted for giving instructions in riddles, this makes Levi even more furious than the cursive ones.

Just like Levi, Hange takes a long time when eating dinner but the reason for this is not because they eat slow but because they talk a lot. By the end of the meal their food is either cold or soggy.

Tried to bite a titan once just to show them how it felt to be “on the receiving side”.

Their horse has tiny braids on its mane made by them when they were nervous.

Refuses to brush their hair because their ideas may “fall off” if they do it.

Tackled Levi once when they saw an “eerie figure” roaming the headquarters halls and thought it was a new species.

Has read more books than anyone in the scouts, knows a little of almost everything.

Says “wait, what?” at least twice when talking with someone, before that person can repeat themselves, they interrupt with a completely related answer and expect the person to continue speaking as if nothing happened.

Almost all cadets go to them for advice, they take this very seriously and never joke around when listening to their concerns.

Just like Erwin, they have relatives living nearby the headquarters but they’re not interested in one another.

Has a tendency to bite their nails when nervous, all his fingernails are short and bumpy because of it.

Is very quick at math and calculations.

Always carry a pocket notebook with them and writes anything that catches their attention so they can investigate about it later.

LOVES bugs, is always trying to catch them and examinate them. One time they trapped a cockroach and created a full design of an “armored suit” based on them, when Erwin asked where they got the inspiration for it, they just placed the cockroach in Erwin’s desk and Erwin almost fainted on the spot.

Randomly goes to Miche and asks him “what do I smell like?”, Miche stopped participating on their little riddles when Hange decided to put rotting food in their pockets before asking.

All their books have little notes and highlighted parts on them. Sometimes has two or three copies of the same book because their view on certain parts changes over time.

Takes pinky-promises as a legit way of commitment.

#levi ackerman #erwin smith #hange zoe #aot vets #aot headcanon #aot headcanons #levi headcanons #erwin headcanons #hange headcanons #attack on titan

[gyrium]

i do really like choices-matter type video games and am a fan of character building rpgs as much as anyone else- but, particularly in the fantasy genre, i take umbrage with the expectation that that means i must shape an entire world through my character

i think for me it all mostly comes down to "i wish we could break a little bit more out of the kayfabe of party-based rpg story structure" but i feel like i need to dig into it a little more than that

first of all, i reject the idea that it's interesting that a single person becomes not only an influence on their party but major world factions, and/or on the outcome of all major events in a kingdom or war (or many of them), for no other reason than "it's a choices matter fantasy rpg". ignore the idea of whether or not it's realistic - it isn't - but i understand that's part of the fantasy

they often explain through this by making it about being a leader, which i think is a good choice and is the foundation for getting your players to get into the spirit of it, but often i feel like 'being a leader' is the only trait you really get to have in those games... which you barely get to engage with the underlying experience of being a leader, because that role simply exists so you can be in the situations where you can make a choice - not so you can experience the story of a character who has to make decisions

some games also make the mistake of starting the story before you are actually a leader, giving you a brief moment to express a character before that, and then you watch as that person is stripped away as they become The Leader and can only express that they're a complicated person maybe once or twice in throwaway lines that don't affect anything.

this actually wouldn't be a problem if, again, you could engage with the experience of being a leader, but these stories - despite being about playing a leader - don't actually want to be about leadership!

i dislike the feeling of companion questlines being these direct dioramas of a person's interior that only your character can engage with and, for some reason, be the only thing that can affect the outcome of incredibly important personal decisions. i love exploring characters' traumas and vulnerabilities as much as anyone else but i find this level of influence on other people jarring and very unrealistic to the point of it feeling unfit even for fantasy

to me i think the greatest appeal for a party in rpgs is that they are all forced to interact with each other for one reason or another, and these kinds of games should absolutely be spending the budget and story on playing that up and not just the characters as the player character can see them

ultimately, while i do think these games would be more fun if it was ACTUALLY willing to engage in what it means to be this highly influential person, i still find the idea tired. at the end of the day i do actually just want different stories, and to stop being responsible for all these damn kingdoms

#sorry its a long post but i had too much to say for twitter and maybe i should post less there anyway #ramble tag

[tunabesimpin]

🦚 TWST OC MITCHELL INFO 🦚

New oc alert! ^v^ getting more used to painting first and then lining so this came out more detailed than Tunas LOL

BASIC INFO

TAG : #twst Mitchell

Name : Mitchell / Mitty Class : 2-E (Student no. 5) Birthday : July 31st Age: 17 Height : 171 cm Dominant Hand : right Best Subject : Music Hobby : Idol Dislikes : Clutter & tight spaces Favorite Food: Potato Kabob Least Favorite Food : Spaghetti Talents : Dance (Ballet Specific)

Quick Summary: Mitchell or Mitty, is a micro-celebrity idol. Covering popular songs and trending dances, Mitty is determined to follow his childhood idols footsteps! Even though he couldn't join auditions to be in a group, Mitty has created a good following on his magicam and magitube accounts. As Flamboyant as he is, he still gets shy when complimented or meeting people he looks up to. Overall this peacock beastman is slowly learning step by step how to brainwash everyone to be his fan! (/j... unless?) ^o^

APPEARANCE

A peacock beastman with bright purply-pink hair and eyes. He has an ahoge that is not normal hair, turning blue towards the end. Above his left brow and below his left eye he has beauty marks. His overall body type is thin, toned and with hip dips. Very often Mitty applies red eyeshadow and lipstick as well as applying mascara and contact lenses to make his eyes appear larger. He has lobe piercings, but rarely wears earrings due to his hair covering or getting tangled easily. As for fashion he prefers deep reds and dark cool colors usually in lolita styles. For more casual looks he prefers loungewear like cardigans and loose pants.

PERSONALITY + BACKGROUND

As a child Mitchell was extremely influenced by anime idols and cute idol groups alike. Going as far as performing his favorite songs and dances in school talent shows. However, his obsession with making the crowd feel "awe-inspired" he often used his UM to his advantage. This didn't do well with many of his teachers and other parents... so surprisingly enough Mitty had many detentions in their early years. This record left him in dim lights for group auditions. Mittys mindset got a bit skewed and began to think... I will just have to try harder to rule the crowd! Overtime their hope to inspire morphed into wanting the world to love him (through mostly any means).

Upon entering NRC Mitchell had begun seeking attention online and decided a "debut concert" was most necessary. After the entrance ceremony Mitty went back to the mirror chamber, set up his phone camera and began to perform one of his favorite routines! Thus started his online career! While he is not as popular as others, he does have a few hundred supporting him and in his mind that's the first step to his domination!

Personality wise, Mitty is pretty dense when it comes to anything besides his interests and doesn't take no for an answer. No literally it will go in one ear out the other. Despite this he does take everything surprisingly seriously, ok not rejection, but everything else! However compliments? He will grin from ear to ear, go red and just absoluetly adore you! He can be a bit clingy when he's like this, but he's just happy some one likes him. When it comes to friendship though... well he's not a terrible friend, but he does tend to only think of himself most of the time... at least he will buy you things to make it up to you;; Just don't ask him for emotional advice too much he really isn't good at it. Overall he's a bit of an annoying person, but his shy and bashful bursts at compliments may be something redeemable.

Academically he is average. He does amazing is music but that's about it, everything else is passing at least. He struggles with history most due to his disinterest in remembering about people who aren't his idols.

In his free time, Mitty practices dance and song covers from his favorite medias. Posting them as often as he records and of course running to Cater for help very often. If they're not doing that, he's grooming his feathers or sewing new outfits. Occasionally he will tour around campus and invade dorms to take photos in his newest creations as well as show them off.

ABILITIES

UM- Focus on me! "Let me show you who's the main star!" -This unique magic allows Mitchell to take on his peacock beast-form. When showing off his beautiful feathers they act as a hypnotizing charm; causing dizziness, crossed vision, and luring people into a trance like state. If used with full force, Mitchell can force the afflicted to follow his movements. -Movement can not be fast or the afflicted will snap out of the trance. -strength of effects depends on the amount of magic used in this UM. Less input and you can expect a simple charm and lull effect, but with heavy input the effects will increase. -Small to medium blot manifestation; long term use at low levels is usually fine, but after a few hours blot formation rate will increase.

RELATIONSHIPS

Relationship chart to be made !

Notable Relationships:

Vil & Mitty : Mitty looks up to Vil and respect him so much! While he isnt into acting, Vils prowess and social media standing are impressive! Mitty is too busy fangirling and stuttering to speak to Vil casually. Vil doesn't seem to mind so long as it doesn't effect his work.

Cater & Mitty : Mitty joined the pop music club and immediately wanted to quit. It was quite contrary to what they expected. Cater and Kalim were quick to talk him into staying. Ever since, Cater has been a big help to Mitty in social media learning and Mitty may have taken to mimicking Caters speech online. Mitty says they're close friends, but Cater only see it as a casual friendship.

Riddle : Currently Mitty is trying to convince Riddle to form an idol duo. Riddle had been one of the first to "compliment" one of his dances, saying "Your dancing nice, however you are trespassing on Heartslaybl property!". Ever since, whenever Mitty visits Cater he doesn't hesitate to try and recruit the house warden. While Riddle does not hate him, he is often dumbfounded by Mittys inability to "read the atmosphere". It is not currently known why Mitty is obsessed beyond the nice comment.

Thanks for reading about Mitchell!! I did not realize until after i made his nickname Mitty that Mitty can mean "a fictional character given to grand and elaborate fantasies" and I think that's very fitting for him LMAOOOO anyways!!! Thank you for the support and time <3 !

#twst mitchell #twisted wonderland #twst #twst oc #twst fanart #twisted wonderland oc

[sage-nebula]

Just wanna say, I love your tags sm on my post!!! I find it so fun to pull comparisons with both zinnia and volo because they have like. A similar character skeleton. Or whatever that means. They're so different yet their relation to their respective deity definitely feels, as u said, 2 sides of the same coin.

And 100% agree with the last comment- I only started thinking about their similarities when I realized how much of the fandom dislikes zinnia and how much of the fandom likes volo qq

Ahh thank you so much!! I'm so sorry I'm responding to this so late, I am just awful about actually sitting down at a computer lately unless it's for work . . . and my work network doesn't allow me to access tumblr because I'm employed by haters 😔 but I'm glad you appreciated the tags! I remember I was actually a bit hesitant about leaving them because I didn't know if they would be Too Much or not, so I'm glad that wasn't the case, haha.

And yeah, Zinnia and Volo definitely foil each other in many ways. What's really interesting about it as well is that, unlike Volo, Zinnia was actually rebuffed by her deity to her face, when it came to a destiny she was literally raised for, which we know since her flashbacks in her Evolutions episode show that she was training to catch Rayquaza as part of her Lorekeeper destiny since she was a young child:

She could arguably be a little older in that second flashback, but not by much. So Zinnia was raised to be the Lorekeeper since her childhood. Her life's purpose was not only know and be able to pass on the history of her people, but also to be able to mega evolve Rayquaza and, together with it, destroy the meteor that would threaten the planet. She knew that doing this would likely result in her death (indicated at multiple points in her dialogue), but she was so devoted to doing it that she went through it anyway. And she managed part of it; she did manage to summon Rayquaza.

And then . . . Rayquaza rejected her. To her face. In favor of some random (by comparison) kid.

By all accounts, Zinnia had every right to be furious. Her deity has rejected her in favor of some rando when Zinnia devoted her entire life (and was willing to sacrifice her life) to it. But is she furious? Does she take it out on May? No. We know that she's lowkey suicidal (some of her dialogue suggests she's almost hoping she'll die in the effort to stop the meteor so that she can be reunited with the original Aster in the afterlife), but she still takes it in stride because the most important thing is that the meteor is stopped. So she helps the rando as much as she can, and then leaves to figure out what she can do with this life she didn't expect to have.

Then, on the opposite end, there's Volo. Volo, as far as we know, was never raised with any special destiny in mind. To be fair, we really don't know anything about Volo's backstory except that it's heavily implied he's a descendant of the Celestica people. But that's it. We're never told that he had a destiny to fulfill alongside Arceus. Instead, Volo himself decided that he was going to summon and meet Arceus, and Volo himself decided he was going to summon and meet Arceus wholly for his own reasons, and Volo himself never actually came face to face with Arceus, and took that as a rejection, and then tried to murder the random kid Arceus chose over it, as if it's that random kid's fault.

It really is the complete opposite in every way. Zinnia had every reason to believe that Rayquaza would agree to work with her, yet when it refused, she took it in stride and did what she could to help. Volo had no reason to believe that Arceus would want to work with him, and when it refused, he absolutely lost his shit and tried to murder a child. There's a reason why Zinnia got closure by forming a sync pair with Rayquaza in Pokemon Masters and why I'm pretty damn sure Volo is not going to get the same treatment with Arceus, lmao.

And don't get me wrong, I love both characters. Personally, I hope Volo never gets better. Don't get me wrong, if his motivation is supposed to be that he wants to make a world where his people and culture were never lost and where Hisui was never colonized, then I do think that's a sympathetic motivation, and certainly I came away from PLA thinking that Kamado was more despicable than Volo, mostly because the game treated Kamado like a sympathetic, misunderstood man despite his blatant bigotry toward the DP clans. But Volo is at his best when he is absolutely off his shits and I want him to stay that way. Like the fact that he actually tried to murder the player is iconic. Love that energy for him. Keep it coming.

But that doesn't change the fact that, yeah, he is off his shits. And any sympathetic motivations we can give him are headcanon because Game Freak didn't feel the need to elaborate. And more importantly (and to the point of your second paragraph), yeah, it really gets me that people are constantly vilifying Zinnia (including downright calling her a villain) for trying to save two worlds and ultimately bowing out gracefully when her destiny was stolen from her, yet fawn all over Volo or Lusamine. I'm sure the fact that Zinnia is a darker skinned woman (as opposed to the the blonde hair and pale skin of the others) has nothing to do with it. [/heavy sarcasm]

Anyway, this is a very long (and late) reply. I'm a very verbose person, haha. But thanks again, especially for giving me the chance to talk more about this; I appreciate it! 💜

#pokeattorney #lorekeeper zinnia #trainer volo #again i love volo. man is absolutely off his shits and that's so entertaining #but this fandom does have a tendency to treat darker skinned characters . . . badly #and Zinnia has the double whammy of having darker skin (esp depending on the art) AND being a woman #and the way the fandom treats her unfortunately REALLY shows it

[agentrouka-blog]

Why is it so uncommon for people to like both Dany and Sansa? They are both my favorites. Unlike a lot of Dany fans I’d be okay with it if Danny becomes a villain and I’ll like as a villain if that does happen. I see a lot of parallels and antiparallels in the characters but nobody is willing to talk with me about it. I get ignored or sometimes accused of secretly being anti Dany or anti Sansa, depending on who I’m trying to engage with. I don’t get why there is such a strict polarization where so many Sansa fans actively dislike Dany and vice versa. Is it just because of shipping? Am I one of the only people who loves both Dany and Sansa just because I like both Jonerys and Jonsa?????

There's bad blood in the fandom, because a certain subset of Dany's fans have been very aggressive toward Sansa fans (or anyone criticising Dany) in the past, which has made it difficult to establish any shared corners, I suppose.

Beside that, I think there are just very few people who are equally drawn to both characters and also perceive them in the same way.

What draws Sansa fans to Sansa and Dany fans to Dany tends to correlate with fundamentally different perceptions of the same source material. Relative power dynamics and the relationship with "righteous violence" tend to be very different. Hence you, too, acknowledging that many Dany fans reject the idea that she is on a villain path, while many many many Sansa fans clearly perceive her in this way. Just a very different reading of the text that leads to incompatible takes on the characters. There is simply not that much overlap. That's the polarization you speak of.

It is definitely not primarily about shipping. That's an oversimplification that dismisses the real meat of the issue. My opinion on Dany doesn't even require Jon Snow to exist, let alone be romantically involved with either of them.

I know there are Sansa fans who do like Dany (as a tragic figure, as a compelling villain, as an entertaining character, even as a not-yet-villain like you do, as daensa shippers) and that's perfectly lovely. I'm not one of them, but I respect them fully. I tag my critical posts with "anti daenerys targaryen" so her fans can filter them and ignore my posts or even my existence.

I can and do have discussions about Dany on a sympathetic level (as a past victim, as a rootless child, as a deeply lonely person) and I agree that there are parallels to explore with Sansa, but they happen within the frame that Dany is a villain while Sansa is not, that they are ultimately foils. That's a premise I can't budge from.

In theory, we could all happily ignore each other, where our views are not compatible. Alas.

#sansa stark #sansa fandom #anti daenerys targaryen #not really but you know

[tamelee]

I think a lot of sakura hate is undeserved. Like ik she's said and done some things that were out of pocket, but then again so did almost everyone else and no one else gets scrutinized as much as her. I don't even like her and her fans are incredibly annoying, but I feel this much is true. I think she'd still be one of the most hated characters in all of anime if her undeserved hate went away, so it doesn't really make much of a difference. I feel like her hate is kinda like sasuke's, sometimes it feels like he gets hated on just for being sasuke bc ik some things he's done would've been swept under the rug if another, more popular character did it (eg when he killed some samurai) for sakura, there are lots of incel fanart memes dudebros made to make fun of her, so it seems like they hate her for just being a woman who rejected a loser man and likes a better man. It's no wonder her fans are so annoying, that's what happens when your fave character gets undeserved constant hate. My fave is sasuke and sometimes even I wanna do some petty annoying shit just to piss his haters off too lol. Also since she's a woman, there's definitely some misogyny at play when her character is being analyzed by men. Or even women with internalized misogyny. It's stupid to deny that, misogyny is the most normalized oppression everywhere. So many ppl don't even realize they're being misogynistic, that's how normal it is. Sure it's not always the case but ignoring it is just being dumb. Her fans using the misogyny card to actual genuine criticism is definitely stupid though. Like it's possible to not like a woman and not be misogynistic ofc. Also when they use that when sns fans ship sasuke with naruto instead of sakura, that's even dumber 😂 how is not shipping a woman with a man and instead shipping him with another man misogynistic in any way lol. But yeah, I'm definitely not on her fans side, or even a fan of her myself, but I can still acknowledge this

+ 2 Asks - long post:

When talking about critiquing characters and analyzing stories, it doesn't really matter who's doing the talking – whether they're fans, critics, or just people who love or don't love a particular show or character. We can't always figure out why (especially anonymous) people feel the way they do and how do we even discern the motivation or background of those who do so? —whether they're misogynistic, incels, dudebros, fans, or critics of whatever other stories, among other factors. In fact, in this case it’s pretty irrelevant? Or only relevant here because you brought it up.

Nevertheless, that doesn’t take away the fact that a significant portion of the 'Naruto' audience finds Sakura's character unlikable. She consistently is found at the center of conversations about the most disliked Anime characters. This is ultimately a reflection of storytelling, rather than solely an audience reaction. And that leads to a broader discussion about Kishimoto’s writing where many blame his lack of skill in writing when it comes to the portrayal of female characters. (Opinions may vary, so does mine.) Dismissing criticism by categorizing critics as incels or misogynists is oversimplifying it tbh because of course they harbor specific biases against a character like Sakura which in itself isn’t fair and would definitely make it ‘undeserved’. (I really wouldn’t use that term for a fictional character unless we talk about the story itself tbh.) You yourself say “not always the case...” So that doesn't mean Kishimoto's portrayal of Sakura or any other character, and the genuine criticism she receives for universally disliked traits, is any less valid. Many perceive her as selfish, and Kishimoto himself has used that specific term (and even worse) to describe her. So, you can’t deny that this foundation of her character exists. Her decisions and behavior make sense even if people preferred to see it differently. 

Though, when analyzing, it is important to keep the Shinobi world in mind, and only our own as reference. And that’s exactly why the hatred Sasuke gets is not the same.... :

The amount of hate/criticism has nothing to do with a comparison though. Sakura's actions are often deliberately misunderstood, twisted to fit certain narratives that are in her favor and even exaggerated to counteract the hate like the first ask said. On the other hand, Sasuke is generally misunderstood and is hated for it. Often not getting even a tiny bit of compassion because some people struggle to see beyond his exterior and just ride the Naruto-verse’s moral/value waves from the narrative. Where the entire point was that those ideals needed change. 

SAVE HIM!? Why is it always so actively ignored that Sakura tried to kill Sasuke twice but him defending himself or fighting back is ‘so incredibly evil’? This ‘resolve’ of hers becomes even more significant to Kishimoto’s message when we consider that she intentionally represents the same ideals that led to the genocide and with that- agreed to eliminate him without attempting to understand him even once. Repeating history in the meantime where, again, that change is necessary. And you start with trying to understand the other, something Naruto had to learn too and actively had to find that answer by himself. Never once did she actually listen to Sasuke when he tried to open up and instead twisted the few words he got out to make it about herself. Not only disregarding his (and Naruto’s) trauma but shitting on it, thinking he, of ALL people, would feel happy with her abandoning her family and friends for him and comparing her feeling lonely without Sasuke to his entire clan being murdered what forced him to grow up alone. I mean, hello? Kishimoto was saying something very loudly there and it’s nothing positive about Sakura and that certainly has nothing to do with a lack of writing skills, the opposite actually. Even if she was briefly a teammate, she rightfully became irrelevant to him, and her decision to get rid of the (in her and the world's eyes) “criminal” was entirely for her own sake because she couldn't bear to see her crush behave like one and deal with her irrelevance.  

She rejected everything Sasuke wanted, needed, and desired, including his central 'why' in the story. She reduced him to a moody handsome boiii with no goals of his own, one she neither could nor wanted to understand. She tried to insert herself into his goals without him giving her any reason to, and when unsuccessful, she wanted to discard them altogether thinking he was ‘too far gone’. Like Sasuke as a person as a whole was her ‘burden’ to bear simply because she wanted to be somewhat relevant. Even Kakashi said it :/ although he thought she did it all out of the kindness of her heart. (Ffs, Kakashi I like you, but no.) Now, please consider EVERYTHING and then think again why Sakura thought of Sasuke as a burden or why she felt burdened by him while lying about her trust in him to Sai? 👀

The importance of Sasuke having a goal is immense because he grapples with survivor's guilt. A goal provides a reason to keep going, a way to carry the pain and blame he places on himself. It allows him to be strategic and have a plan, which is the only source of hope that things may eventually improve. He rejected what Naruto stood for because he found it distracting and hard to trust at that point. OF COURSE he fought so fucking hard against it. No matter his feelings for Naruto, relying solely on effort like Naruto wasn't something he could do. Especially considering how his beloved brother had betrayed him in the worst possible way.

Now, here's a question for you: why would Sakura need to receive compassion or 'deserve' it when, as a character, she rarely demonstrated it herself, especially when it comes to the person she claims to like so much? And if anyone thinks that was out of love in any way, which it wasn't, then what does it all mean for Naruto????

If you genuinely believe there was any point in the story Sakura tried to save Sasuke for Sasuke’s sake then I hope you’re able to read the story again and question this very rigorously for yourself. Not just her actions, but what Kishimoto tried to actually show/tell and use them to measure how it stands against the bigger Themes also.  

Lastly: the whole point of needing to kill Naruto was BECAUSE he cared for him lol, read Sasuke's monologue again if it helps. That his bond with Naruto had too much of an impact on Sasuke. His one and only, his most important person/friend, only bond left that kept him from truly being alone, Naruto’s life in itself too much of a threat to his heart even when separated, blabla- should I go on? 🤔      

#asktamelee #naruto talk #sasuke talk #dunno how else to tag this #I rarely want to talk about sasuke on my blog but #this became very pro sasuke and anti sakura jsyk #really had to vent a little xD

[tsaricides]

on the topic of “all the ways to stay away” i was surprised to see you mentioned the all-caste since a lot of jason fans tend to the ignore that part of his canon. what were your likes and dislikes about how the all-caste was handled and how you would go about it?

also absolutely obsessed with this conversation in chapter 3 of black out days, “You’re a child, she wants to reply. It’s a child’s job to be needy and to cry out for love. It’s a parent’s job to provide and never stop loving. And it’s a mourner’s right to stop the mourning when they believe that the dead have found peace.” this whole conversation was lovely, and your Jay and Talia voices are so good!! i think it’s my favorite line of yours ever

there is nothing that makes me happier than people pointing at specific bits of my writing that resonated with them, so you can only imagine how delighted your ask made me! thank you so much. i'm also very glad you liked that conversation, as the whole fanfic was actually a set up for it; it was quite literally the starting point for this work, as i was looking for an alternative version of the story in which such vulnerability and self-awareness could be afforded... which is to say, i was quite concerned people would read it and think "they would not say that"; but my whole point was that i was trying to alter the canon for it to become realistic.

which is, i think, a good opening to say that the way i use all-caste in that story is also purely instrumental. not only talia, but also the narrative, needed him in a place both removed from the league and gotham, and out of all places jay finds himself in canon, that was the most obvious one. i was not planning to expand on that in the series at all, but you are making me want to write an interlude that would explain both what happens in there in an au, and what i think is the only interesting thing about all-caste in canon...

i don't think canon needs all-caste at all; it is a hindrance to the style of storytelling that we see in the lost days, and it comes way too close to the "chosen one" idea for my liking... and many people point out that jason getting these magical swords that materialise only in the presence of evil is an anti-thesis to his character, because jason is supposed to be at least to a degree wrong. but i honestly think this ignores the best element of the storyline... which is that jay is forced to constrain his anger in order to fight that grand, ontological idea of evil... and then he rejects it. of course, lobdell unfortunately does not leave it that mere comma that is supposed to fit somewhere in the lost days, but i think as such it would not be all that offensive. because it makes sense for jay to deny that divine sort of judgement. he is given the ability to transcend the human matters and emotions in a crusade that would, in its justification, outrank that of batman; but it is of no interest for him, because for him killing is not holy, and his sense of morality and righteousness come from the most basic notions of interpersonal and societal relationships and an attempt to deal with ordinary cruelty that come with it. not a successful one; but this is what makes him who he is. so i might not like the all-caste for many reasons, but i don't think it outright goes against the bare bones of his characterisation. i would even say it's more of a world-building issue and asserting what type of setting jason belongs to.

in all the ways to stay away, unlike in canon, the world becomes a bit wider as jason tries to let go of his past; and like in canon, he rejects that ontological right to kill, but rather than reverting to more... down-to-earth motivations, it is a stepping stone for him to realise that it is not a responsibility for him to take at all. just as all-blades draw from his soul and demand his blood sacrifice, the ideology powering the red hood mission itself is also a form of self-harm. and with talia as an example there, jason starts looking for a third way, in between that detached and mighty path, and reducing himself to a bundle of pain driven by the opposite. this is also an additional push for that self-awareness that makes the story what it is -- an attempt for jason to do something he never does: let go.

#outbox #and a reminder that my boyfridged askbox is now back on! #<- i know this one sent before:) but for people who see it now.

[justvico]

So, here’s the question, what are we gonna call this new WOY AU? Follow up question: Are we gonna see anymore Anxiety Wander pictures from you, or maybe some theories on why he has anxiety?

i never really thought of it as an AU so much as a Headcannon, wander in the show exhibits a lot of anxiety (i think he has a little ocd or adhd maybe a mix of the two) i just wanted to explore his mind space in these moments.

Wander at his most terrified and vulnerable sees these weird smiling shadows, but why are they smiling?

I thought into how wander perceives himself, remember when wander was sick? he was extremely reluctant to allow himself to be helped, and while sick mentioned the importance of him helping others stating that “terrible things would happen” all while rejecting TLC from sylvia because he felt that he shouldn’t (not didn’t) need it.

Wander puts a lot of pressure on himself, and thinks that if he isn’t there to help, people will get hurt or be in danger of getting hurt despite that being like 90% untrue.

Dragging this back to the smiling wanders,

Wander’s anxiety might be manifesting in his stress to preform and his need to feel accepted and helpful.

The responsibilities that he has might be a little too much for him (see his escapism in The Void) but well he has to do it.

i think the “smile” is the pressure to be the friendliest face in the galaxy, if you think about it Wander has never really outwardly disliked anyone. i think wander is more than capable, but the way he shows his distaste is by allowing Sylvia to deal with them. Wander just doesn’t stand up for himself like that (he stands up for what he believes in, but he won’t really go “your awful how could you”). He will scold someone but he won’t be direct with the way they make him feel

so when he feels like upset or sad or whatever else, i think all he can think about is how many people are relying on him to be that silver lining. Wander is very emotion positive and he can take time in his life to feel sad, but he only did that once. when no one was around and no one could be sure if there was anyone left.

So in short, wander feels a lot of pressure to be a helpful happy guy, and when he is distressed and can’t be the positive figure, his mind will let him know who he is letting down.

Of course, this could very well be an AU if anyone would like, it does take a different approach to wander, instead of emotionally set guy, more vulnerable and less assured in his life. just the way i like my men :)

You could frame it as parts of the void coming out with wander, and now those pesky little wander pop ups come and go, but only Wander could see them. no he isn’t crazy, just has void bits in his brain. that would be cool and it would be canon compliant i love au’s that branch off an episode tbh.

you know what yeah, if this is an AU, it’s called Enter: The Void and when wander left the void a little bit of that void energy clung to him so hard and hid away in his psyche not wanting to be alone. it can get removed, if anyone can believe wander when he says he is being followed around and harassed by smiling hims. share it around WOY-E:TV wander goes crazy except he isnt please believe him!

#woy wander #wander over yonder #woy au #woy #save woy #vicos asks

[lordgrimwing]

I am very curious about the Breeding AU and Art Therapy in Mandos, Feanor-style sounds simply delightful!

Art Therapy in Mandos answered here!

and the breeding au . . . oh gosh, this is tough. Here goes - but first some warnings

CW: lots of discussion about reproduction, things that can go wrong during pregnancy, and sexual assault. So, you know, be warned and go forward at your own discretion. oh, also mpreg. there's mpreg, too, because what's the point of a breeding au if half the population can't carry babies!

So, this all started because I had to take a comparative theriogenology (that's the study of reproduction in various domestic animal species) and I really disliked studying for most of it, so I decided to relate as much of the content as possible to elves and make it stick a little better. After some conversations with Nightie, these random ideas turned into a full au.

As many have likely noticed, lots of elves die fighting Morgoth. Lots of orcs die, too, but unlike the elves they seem to breed like rodents so there are always more of them, while the elven population steadily declines toward nothing. Realizing how untenable this situation is, most of the elves decide they'd better start having lots of babies to rebuild the population before they're wiped out. The Noldor, being the Noldor, of course turn this into a science to optimize the process and improve genetic diversity and have more strong warriors.

The main exception to this is the Feanorians. They've already accepted their doom at this point and have no interest (or supplied) in making babies. In fact, the Feanorians , being more LaCE compliant, are rather horrified by what they hear is going on.

Well, the third kinslaying happens. M+M get E+E and love grows between them, etc etc. The twins grow up, food grows scarce, and eventually M+M make the hard decision to send the half-elves away so that they don't starve to death.

Gil-galad is the natural choice as new guardian, of course. He's supported by the recent arrival of the Host of Valinor, and the twins are half Noldor. If anyone's going to accept two ill-kempt and weird peredhil, Gil-galad's the one.

The only problem being, of course, that the Feanorians all know that Gil-galad's people have the nasty habit of making everyone have children.

Maedhros and Maglor sit Elros and Elrond down before send thing them away. The twins already know about what might happened. They're scared but trying to keep a brave face because leaving is already painful enough without thinking about the future. Maedhros talks for awhile about what they've heard of the Noldor, and then makes a big point of telling the twins that as long as they firmly say 'no, we don't want to do that', they will be okay because the other elves aren't monsters and they won't force them - the twins just must be sure to always say no and never let anyone thing the answer could be anything else.

The twins leave.

Maglor watches them go and quietly whispers to himself that they'll be ok, that nothing bad will happen to them.

Maedhros looks at his bother, shakes his head, says 'You fool', and walks away to be alone.

Gil-galad accepts the sons of Elwing with open arms, shocked to realize they are alive. He gives them a tent near his, tells them to come to him if they need anything and he'll help or get someone to help (he is very busy after all). He let's them get settled in.

E+E try to adapt to their new lives. The camp is strange, there's so many customs and social norms they don't know and they've never seen so many children running around. They are very firm in their rejection of anyone who tries to get to know them better.

These youths were raised by kinslaying Feanorians, Gil-galad reminds himself after hearing several complaints about Elrond snapping at anyone who tries to talk to him and Elros starting nearly daily fist fights, he probably should have focused more attention on helping them integrate. So, he summons the twins for a chat to try to figure out how to help them adjust to their new lives and explain that, actually, civilized people don't bite people who say 'hi' to them.

He really was not prepared to have the evening conversation, held over dinner to help maintain a relaxed atmosphere, collapse into Elrond glaring at him while holding the cutlery in a clearly aggressive way and Elros shouting that they aren't going to let anyone force a baby into them. Once he composes himself, Gil-galad adamantly explains that none of his people are in the business of raping anyone and besides that, they've got a few more decades before their of age by elvish standards (even if they do look all grown up already).

And there you have it, that's most of the cohesive plot of the au. Then it's just kind of vaguely connected things once Elrond is all grown up and actually decides he wants to have kids with Celebrian and Gil-galad. And also him being a healer and dealing with some of the complications that can arise during pregnancy.

Oh, and of course Glorfindel and Erestor are here too. The issue being that Glorfindel is a mighty warrior, right? So he's supposed to have kids with other warriors to help make sure there's more epic fighters, but it turns out that these warriors all tend to not a great fertility so that doesn't work out so well. And Erestor is of course like a scribe or something so he's supposed to keep his hands off the warriors (he also isn't interested in having kids). Anyway, eventually they get to be together and it's nice.

Gosh, there's even a whole story worth of idea about some random elf and something going terribly wrong during the end of her pregnancy. Humans help her get to Rivendell so Elrond can help her.

-

And that's a wrap. If you made it that far, haha!, hope you enjoyed my insanity

Ask me about fics that live rent-free in my head!

#this is such a horrid au #but i've created it and it's mine and i'm not sure if that says anything about me #the silmarillion #elrond #elros #maglor #maedhros #gil galad #kidnap fam #rent-free fic game #grimwing gripes