#//this took me hours to write

[elite-four-grimsley]

Hi, Mun I've been meaning to asks for advice in how to write Grimsley ? and What are your hcs for him ?

//OOC: HI HI HELLO HI!! I have a LOT of Grimsley thoughts and HCs (I mean A LOT) so buckle up because I have been enabled and I am FULL of ADHD. Seriously, this is extremely long. I’m so sorry.

((General trigger warning for themes of gambling, addiction to gambling, and underage gambling as well as child abuse and child neglect.))

A majority of these hcs are what I stick to when writing my interpretation of Grimsley on this blog, however it can sometimes be hard to include or stick to all of them based on how an RP blog plays out in the long run. 

However, all of these are what I generally subscribe to unless said otherwise.

Childhood and Backstory:

I tend to write Grimsley with a Galarian background, both of his parents coming from Galar and having moved to Unova before he was born. Since we really only have the vague idea of Grimsley being the "son of a distinguished family that fell into ruin", I basically took that concept and ran with it. 

In my canon, Grimsley's father (HC name: Atticus) was born into a wealthy Galarian family (who may or may not have been involved in some Not So Legal things). Whereas Grimsley's mother (HC name: Morticia), who was not as "well off", seeks to potentially marry rich due to her poor upbringing and lack of familial support. 

I haven’t decided on many of the details of how exactly Atticus and Morticia meet, however once they do, they hit it off pretty well and don’t waste much time getting married for both their sakes (Atticus wanting to produce a proper heir and Morticia needing the financial support). Their marriage at first, while perhaps not rooted in romantic love, is generally stable. 

Unfortunately, Grimsley's father eventually falls into bankruptcy only a year or so after getting married. This was likely caused by poor financial decisions coupled with falling into trouble with shady individuals. Of course the family name wouldn’t have the best reputation in Galar as a result of this, so Atticus and a pregnant Morticia make a run for it to Unova for a fresh start. 

Growing up, Grimsley had a rocky relationship with both of his parents. 

His father had grown bitter and greedy in his attempts to salvage the family name and make back his fortune (of course, in ways that were not always legal). His focus would turn to Grimsley, seeking to make his son into an even better businessman than even himself. However, Grimsley was infinitely uninterested in his father’s teachings. He was moreso fixated on battling and Pokemon, specifically Dark type Pokémon. Because of this, Atticus wouldn’t allow Grimsley to consume any media surrounding his topics of interest. This would only be the beginning of the rift between him and his father. It wouldn’t take much time for Grimsley to begin fearing Atticus. 

As Grimsley’s father became more outright abusive, he would begin to use his ace Pokémon, Malamar, as an intimidation tactic to get Grimsley (and Morticia) to do what he wanted. In instances where young Grimsley had come across information that Atticus didn’t want him knowing (regarding illegal activity), he would make his Malamar use its psychic abilities to meddle with his memory. Because of these experiences, present day Grimsley has a slight phobia of Malamar and feels uncomfortable around them. 

Here’s a post that accurately displays Grimsley’s relationship with his father. ((TW for child abuse))

Grimsley’s relationship with his mother was better, considering the circumstances. Morticia was definitely not exempt from Atticus’ control, so she often wasn’t allowed/was too afraid to treat her son how truly she wanted. Even then, she did her best to teach Grimsley skills she thought to be important. The two of them would play strategy games together, like chess, with an emphasis on thinking outside the box when stuck in seemingly “hopeless” situations. Grimsley looks back fondly on how his mother valued those skills and passed them down to him. He also cherishes the moments in which Atticus was absent so he and Morticia could truly bond as a mother and son.

Here’s a post I made that gives an idea of what I think young Grimsley's relationship was like with his mother. ((TW for implied abuse))

Unfortunately, a particularly bad experience with both his parents would be the final straw for Grimsley and at the age of eleven, he would run from home. 

Here's a look into the aftermath of that. ((TW for implied abuse))

From then on begins his "Pokémon Journey" of sorts, meeting young Marshal, Caitlin, Shauntal, and his Pokémon along the way. I don’t have as many details about this as I would like at the moment, however I eventually would like to write a series of fics detailing Grimsley and his Pokémon Journey. 

I do, however, have a post on how I think Marshal and Grimsley met as children.

I also have a few assorted headcanons for "Pre-Elite Four" Grimsley: 

-Grimsley used to have a Galarian (British) accent as a child, but would eventually grow out of it as he grew up away from his parents. 

-Shauntal helped Grimsley dye his hair blue for the first time when he was around fourteen. (Shauntal being more experienced with dyeing hair as she's a few years older.)

-Grimsley's battling style used to be more brute force/aggression focused before becoming an Elite Four member. He would then begin to prioritize strategy. 

-Before he was old enough to legally gamble in Unova (hcing that age to be 18 instead of 21), Grimsley would often sneak into shady, back-alley casinos to partake in gambling. This, of course, is where his gambling addiction would start 

-As Grimsley grew into an older teen, he would develop into quite the "rebel". The others (meaning Marshal, Caitlin, and Shauntal) would take notice of him getting into trouble on a regular basis (sometimes with the law), but he would ignore their concern, only turning a new leaf when attempting to join the Pokémon League. (Post on Grimsley talking about joining said league.) 

-Grimsley originally lied on all his application documents in order to get a chance at joining the Pokémon League. This was because he had a criminal record at that point (likely having just turned 20). After he was chosen to start the process of becoming an Elite Four Member, Alder was made aware of Grimsley's record, however since he was such an impressive trainer, they erased his criminal record. 

Elite Four Era:

Grimsley, Marshal, Shauntal, and Caitlin all became Elite Four members generally at the same time. I don’t want to get into how that may be unrealistic. All of them joining around the same time makes more sense to my brain. 

The four of them swiftly garnered a reputation as some of the strongest Elite Four members to date. 

Of course, with fame, comes a lack of privacy. This would become somewhat of a problem for Grimsley when his gambling habits inevitably piqued the interest of the public eye. News of his addiction took the region by storm, and because of this, Grimsley would develop a habit of making light of his problems (more than he already would). He will often deny anything claiming he has an addiction, calling it a hobby instead. 

Grimsley became a popular topic amongst news articles and gossip tabloids, new rumors about him spreading what seemed to be every week. (A favorite rumor being that he’s actually a vampire.)

As an Elite Four member, Grimsley became less of a rebel, instead adopting a persona that was/is much more charismatic and personable. He aims to come off as someone charming rather than someone who actively seeks trouble. Despite this, he will still find himself in troublesome situations… Not that he does himself many favors as he has a habit of wandering cities and forests during the nights he’s not out gambling. I feel it’s important to note that, at heart, Grimsley is a risk-taker and has an inclination to disregard his own wellbeing. 

Grimsley, despite wanting to come off as the opposite, has a bit of a hard time connecting with people in a genuine way. The other Elite Four members would be his only real friends for a while, and even then, they’re used to his antics in ways not many people are/will ever be able to be. Eventually he will become friendly with more people, but even then, he isn’t particularly close with many of the Unova League members. Along with this, people have a habit of judging Grimsley too quickly before allowing him the room to open up. 

Other than the Team Plasma situations happening during Grimsley’s time as an Elite Four member, there isn’t much else to note here. I feel that his battling style changing/improving, his gambling addiction, his troubles with rumors and tabloids, and his developing relationships (which I will touch on later) are the most significant things to take note when writing Elite Four era Grimsley. 

Alola Era: 

While in his official artwork it is said that only two years have passed since seeing Grimsley in previous games, I feel he’s instead somewhere in his thirties (his Elite Four years taking place throughout his twenties). This gives more room for him to look as physically aged as he does in Pokémon SM/USUM. Though, I do believe Grimsley began greying in his twenties due to stress. 

Because of this specific dialogue: “"Sometimes you have to lay everything on the line in life, and risk it all... When I did that, though, I'm afraid I lost. I took to walking along the shore in my despair.” We’re led to believe that Grimsley’s gambling finally bit him in the ass. However my interpretation of Alolan Grimsley changes depending on what relationships I write for him. 

In an instance where Grimsley does not have a romantic partner pre-Alola, I typically stick with the concept of him gambling away most of his money and ultimately becoming bankrupt. Consumed by despair and in a moment of impulsivity, he resigns from his position as an Elite Four member and runs off to Alola without a single word. 

While in Alola, he finds a new passion in riding his Sharpedo and in Mantine surfing. We know he makes quite a name for himself while surfing under the name “Big G”. I do think it takes a bit for Grimsley to truly want to battle again, but once he does, he’s invited to fight at the Battle Tree, healing his love/passion for battling along the way. 

However, in an instance where Grimsley has an established romantic relationship during his time in Unova, I’m inclined to drift from canon. Rather than going bankrupt due to his gambling addiction, I tend to write that he’s instead retired because of burnout/stress/etc. He then moves with his partner to Alola where he discovers a passion for Mantine surfing, gets through his burnout, and ultimately joins the Battle Tree. I’ll touch more on Grimsley regarding romance in a bit. 

Relationships: 

Hcs and thoughts regarding important relationships that have lasting/significant impacts on Grimsley.

Marshal: 

-Marshal and Grimsley have a very unique rivalry to me. They certainly consider each other to be best friends (likely the first person Grimsley felt such a way about), however their friendship does not get in the way of the two of them butting heads and competing against each other in the way many pokerivals do. 

-Marshal is not as competitive as Grimsley is, but when put together, the two of them fuel the hell out of each other’s competitiveness. They have a running tally on how many times they've won against each other during sparring matches.

-Marshal is Grimsley’s favorite person to play pranks on. Not only because of how gullible he can be, but also because Marshal has the most dramatic/ver the top reactions. 

-(Side hc: Marshal can’t handle scary things/horror very well, so Grimsley will take advantage of this often. Of course, in an ultimately lighthearted way.)

-I do like to include within my own writing that Marshal has/had a crush on Grimsley. Whether or not this is a requited or unrequited crush is up to your own personal preference. I could go either way as a multi-shipper, but in my current canon, Marshal’s crush was unrequited. This, however, did not affect their friendship negatively. They likely became closer because of it.

Shauntal: 

-I very much enjoy the concept of Shauntal being very caring and acting as a bit of an older sister figure to Grimsley. I don’t ever tend to ship them, since Shauntal is a lesbian to me, this is just a personal preference though. 

-Despite being the oldest of the group, Shauntal absolutely loves getting into mischief with Grimsley. The two of them are partners in crime for sure, no one is safe from their antics. 

-Grimsley and Shauntal have a lot of similar interests outside of battling as well. Both of them enjoy horror genres in media, dabble in gothic fashion, like the same music, etc. (I may go as far as to say Shauntal may have been a bit of an inspiration for a younger Grimsley when it came to fashion.)

-Grimsley has read/owns all of Shauntal’s novels. He’s also her prime subject to dump all her ideas onto when planning out a new book. 

Caitlin:

-Caitlin overall isn’t particularly talkative. I hc her to have narcolepsy and autism, which affects her in a multitude of ways. Grimsley, along with Shauntal and Marshal, are all her biggest supporters. They’re extremely comfortable in adapting to Caitlin’s disabilities, it’s completely natural to them at this point. 

-Quality time with Caitlin will often just be allowing her to rest in one’s company, which is exactly what Grimsley allows her to do. He also enjoys hearing about any dreams she’s had as of recent, finding her prophetic abilities to be rather fascinating. 

-Caitlin is freakishly good at all of Grimsley’s favorite card games (unless she falls asleep), which Grimsley is quite the sore loser about. He claims it’s cheating because she can "see the future". She has neither confirmed nor denied this. 

-I also do not tend to ship Caitlin with Grimsley since she’s also a lesbian to me. This is another personal preference, however. 

-(Side hc: Caitlin is transgender mtf in my canon, and the other E4 members have supported her throughout her transition since they were children.)

Iris:

-Before Iris became Champion, Grimsley thought himself to be extremely bad around children. Not only because he views himself as a bad example, but also due to the trauma he has surrounding his own childhood. He doesn’t want to end up like his father and put another child through what he went through. 

-However, Iris almost immediately won his heart with her bubbly and excitable personality. I think this is what started Grimsley’s embracing his “uncle” type role, literally or not.

-Iris absolutely loves spending time with all the Elite Four members. Along with sparring with them, she also enjoys painting their nails, doing their hair (and vice versa), going out exploring looking for dragons, etc. 

-Though Grimsley isn’t as bad of an influence as he originally believed himself to be, he does get into trouble sometimes by teaching Iris gambling card games. 

Piers and Marnie:

-I almost always will subscribe to the idea that Grimsley is Piers’ and Marnie’s uncle. However, it does depend on what I’m writing when I’m deciding on when Grimsley figures out that he’s related to the two of them.

-In some instances I would have it already established like he’d known such information for a while. In other cases, I’ll write it as a big reveal of them figuring it out one way or the other. Either way, I don’t have a set way I’d write it every single time, so that’s up to the writer. 

-Grimsley’s relationship with Piers is pretty relaxed, especially since he’s older and would rather his uncle’s attention be on Marnie. However, this doesn’t mean the two of them don’t get along. They enjoy discussing Dark types and battle strategies together. They’re also both quite sarcastic, and their sarcasm will feed off each other. 

-With Marnie, Grimsley will “coddle” her a bit more. He’s very enthusiastic about her up and coming career as a Gym Leader and loves giving her battling advice. He’s very much inclined to spoil her with whatever she wants, embracing the title of the “fun uncle”. His enthusiasm for her will carry on even in his Alola era. 

Burgh:

-Now Burgh/Grimsley is very much a rarepair, however it is my favorite ship for Grimsley. I’m aware there’s a lot of more popular ships for Grimsley, so if you’d like, you can take this as general advice for writing him in a romantic relationship when applicable. 

-Burgh became Gym Leader around the same time that Grimsley became an Elite Four member, and this is how they would ultimately meet (through the Pokemon League). 

-The two of them would take a mutual interest in each other, finding the other to be intriguing along with being physically attractive. 

-Burgh and Grimsley strike up a friendship due to their passion for battling/Pokémon, advocating for stigmatized Pokémon types (Burgh with Bug types and Grimsley with Dark types), and just how well they bounce off each other and connect. 

-I don’t have one set way in which I write them officially getting together, though I do think it would always be in more of a private setting since Grimsley and Burgh both value privacy when it comes to the emotional aspects of their lives. 

-As the two of them grow closer, they’ll slowly drop their respective facades. Grimsley will allow himself to be more vulnerable and open up about his problems (namely his gambling addiction). His lesser known, softer side, makes itself known the more comfortable he becomes with Burgh. 

-Grimsley loves pet names, but Burgh loves them even more. While Grimsley will often have a set amount of go-to pet names (love, dear, darling), the sky’s the limit for Burgh. Every day it seems as if he comes up with a newer, more absurd pet name for Grimsley. Burgh thinks it’s hilarious, Grimsley thinks it’s extremely endearing. 

-Grimsley is generally very dramatic, moreso in the sense of being sarcastic and sometimes a bit mean-spirited. He’s overly dramatic with how he presents his sarcasm because he finds it personally funny. He’s dramatic in his mannerisms so he comes off as more likeable, attention catching, and charismatic. In contrast, Burgh is more dramatic in an artistic sense. He'll swoon over a piece of art or a bug because he finds it so stunningly beautiful. Though, he definitely does it for show as well, especially with Grimsley. It might look like: "Whateverrrr will I do if my dear Grimsley doesn't give me attention right this second!!!" He doesn't mean it seriously, but he thinks it’s silly and Grimsley finds it adorable. 

-Grimsley has a habit of laying on top of Burgh in a very catlike way. He’s definitely the one to occupy Burgh’s lap or dramatically flop on top of him and go limp. 

-I love the concept of Grimsley being a bit of a hopeless romantic at heart. He craves for that cliche romance when it comes to his relationships. Expect a lot of dates, cooing adoration, and romantic displays of affection. 

-Grimsley is the one to steal Burgh’s clothes. (I hc Burgh to be taller and bigger.)

-I’m a big advocate for Burgh being someone who helps Grimsley begin his recovery as a gambling addict. I think both Burgh’s encouragement, along with Grimsley’s desire to want to improve for Burgh, are things that help with this. Of course, he doesn’t recover overnight. It’s very much a gradual process, but a process nonetheless. This is why I believe Alolan Grimsley would not go bankrupt if he has a romantic partner before SM/USUM. 

-This isn’t to say that Grimsley wouldn’t/couldn’t improve due to platonic relationships. In fact I think he was much better off because to his friendships. However, I very much believe that Grimsley committing to a romantic relationship is a big step in it of itself since he’s very flighty in the first place. This romantic connection and commitment then allows him to open up and begin recovering from his addiction. (This can absolutely be translated into something like a QPR if desired. This is just how I personally write Grimsley.)

((Here are some other Grimsley ships that I would like to shout out: Marshal/Grimsley, Will/Grimsley, Will/Karen/Grimsley, Nanu/Grimsley, Cynthia/Grimsley.))

((I also would like to note there’s several other characters that my current Grimsley muse has interacted with and established friendships with. However, they’re very much specific to this roleplay blog, therefore I did not include them.))

Assorted HCs and Writing Tips: 

-When I write Grimsley, I tend to make him much more theatrical and dramatic than any ingame dialogue portrays him. I love the idea of him being extremely petty, overdramatic, and sarcastic. Essentially I’m attempting to convey the vibes of someone who’s a disaster on the inside and wants to come across as charming/funny/charismatic on the outside. (This behavior mellows out quite a bit once he’s in his Alola era, acting more tired and a tad more genuine.)

-Grimsley is the least responsible out of the Elite Four. He is by no means a bad friend or person, and obviously he’s very clever and smart, though he does have a knack for disappearing without saying anything only to show up hours later. He's mischievous at his core with a love for pulling elaborate (but mostly harmless) pranks on the others (with the help of Shauntal). 

-I’m a firm believer that Grimsley is an awfully sore loser. He doesn’t lose often in battle, but when he does, he’s extremely dramatic (especially in his expressions, see: Alolan Grimsley). I do think that in Alola he’s more outright with his dramatic losses, while in Unova he’s able to behave himself for official battles. 

-Grimsley prefers card games when gambling as opposed to something like a slot machine. He thinks slot machines are too luck-based and don't include enough skill/strategy. He’ll also play tabletop games like roulette. 

-When writing Grimsley’s mannerisms and behaviors, I like to base a lot of them off how cats act. This includes things like walking like a cat (with care and thought… most of the time), him slow blinking when around people he loves (cats do this, look it up), and sprawling out in random spots to nap. I’ve also given him a lot of catlike traits in general, such as his eyes glowing in the dark, the ability to purr, etc. This is entirely optional, but I just think these things fit him.

-I do think Grimsley struggles with insomnia. This leads to a lot of sleepless nights along with a lot of spontaneous naps throughout the day. I also like adding the detail of Grimsley finding it easier to fall asleep when sleeping with a romantic partner (namely Burgh). 

-Grimsley’s hair is completely natural, aside from the blue color, which he regularly dyes up to when he retires. He starts greying early around his temples and sideburns, which I mentioned earlier. 

-He absolutely spoils his Pokemon. His Liepard is the most spoiled (because it wants the most attention in the first place), but all his Pokemon are as spoiled as much as they want to be. 

-I will often subscribe to the hc that Grimsley has an irrational phobia of Bug type Pokemon. Not only do I think this makes his relationship developing with Burgh very interesting, but I love the idea of Burgh helping him get over his fear as well. Since it’s irrational, this means that he doesn’t have any sort of trauma that makes him afraid of the typing. I don’t like making Grimsley hateful toward Bug types or any other types either, as he’s an advocate for stigmatized types already and that’d be extremely hypocritical of him. 

-I like making it so that Grimsley’s personal style is gothic. I also think he’s very particular about being called things like “emo” or “punk” and will correct people on the terminology. He has a habit of dressing very formally, even to events that are casual. To him, a button up and neatly ironed slacks is casual. 

-One of my more personal/projected hcs is the fact that I’ve given my interpretation of Grimsley both ADHD and anxiety. Though I do have some in depth reasons for these decisions as well. People with ADHD have a hard time setting aside time and focusing on topics that they have no interest in, which is why Grimsley was so disinterested in things his father would attempt to teach him. He was very much fixated on competitive battling and Dark type Pokémon. Also, people with ADHD have a predisposition to addictions. This would also correspond with his gambling addiction (and his somewhat of an addiction to risk-taking, especially as a teen). I’ve also given Grimsley a few fidgets that are his go-to’s, such as: flipping his coin, shaking his leg, and shuffling cards. As for the anxiety aspect, I believe he has a lot of anxiety surrounding his self image and how people perceive him. He wants to be perceived a certain way and will often become anxious if he feels like he isn’t. 

-Because we see Grimsley become a talented Mantine surfer, I like adding the detail that he enjoys water-based sports even before he’s gone to Alola. This is why he ends up finding such a passion for surfing. He doesn’t do many sports aside from that. 

-Grimsley is very crow-brained and likes collecting things and giving items to people he likes as a show of affection. He has a playing card and coin collection, however the coin we see with him the most is his favorite/lucky coin. 

-As mentioned before, Grimsley likes the horror genre, though he mostly goes for classic horror. He enjoys the shitty movies that no one would expect him to actually enjoy. He also likes musicals like Phantom of the Opera, Little Shop of Horrors. He’s essentially a theater kid who never did theater.

-I like writing Grimsley with a pretty flirtatious personality. He certainly wouldn’t have much trouble flirting with strangers he’d meet at casinos, however I do think he’s an absolute mess when attempting to talk to someone he knows and has a genuine crush on. Please don’t go to him for romantic advice, he’s an absolute mess.

AND THAT'S ALL FOLKS!! Thank you if you've actually read this far. I know this is way longer than what's probably appropriate, however I am so extremely neurodivergent. Don't mind any typos you might find, I tried my best to catch them all.

Here's my Grimsley playlist as a present <3

[sanct1f1ed]

favorite stan twins characterization is that they're both equally insane. stanley just gets more air time to show it off. loosely inspired by a post i read earlier but here's some absolutely insane things both of them have done

stanley:

drugged a person and turned them into an exhibit in the mystery shack

had a vegas wedding to a prospector-themed novelty dispenser

gave mabel a grappling hook

failed to steal an animatronic badger

chewed his way out of the trunk of a car

punched at least three bald eagles

is multiply divorced, possibly even with the novelty dispenser

committed premeditated murder on a llama

faked a heart attack to get on Wheel of Fortune

took his clothes off in front of a live studio audience on Wheel of Fortune

has a rivalry with a fifth grader, a grandmother, and a man who exclusively dresses like a corn cob

stanford:

pulled a gun on a bus driver when he wouldn't let a pig on board

directly assisted in mind-controlling ronald reagan during his election in 1980

gave mabel a crossbow

got bitten by a vampire bat and subsequently began sampling human blood

owns contraband outlawed in 9000 dimensions; keeps it in an extremely flimsy plastic case

"accidentally" set a hawk on fire

has exes ranging from as normal as his old college buddy to as weird as a triangle and an alien with 7 eyes who put a metal plate in his head

wears turtlenecks because he's hiding multiple tattoos he regrets, including one themed around "all star" by smash mouth

is an Extremely wanted criminal across hundreds of dimensions; was completely kicked out of one for card counting

is, bizarrely, super into the band Eurythmics

can see shrimp colors

[fairybasketsxo]

guys will be like this edible’s not hitting :/ and then five mins later be bent over panting writhing moaning squirming begging rutting whimpering groaning humping grinding shuddering trembling

[kimdokjas]

@animangacreators challenge ⟡ spring 2024

↳ WIND BREAKER

You haven't given up on others yet. And you don't need to give up. At the least I'm looking your way, Sakura. So why don't you look this way as well? If you do, I'm sure… you'll become what you want to be.

[qremlin]

A Brief Alterhuman History

Here is a quick recap of the history of the alterhuman community, from 1972 onwards.

1972-1990

Communities of beings who believed themselves to be elves began to appear in the 70s. In 1990, the word “Otherkind”/“otherkin” is used for the first time in Elfinkind Digest, coined to include non-elf “others”.

1990-1999

Alt Horror Werewolves (AHWW) newsgroup is created to discuss werewolves; it became a place people felt safe to discuss identifying as an animal. Those in this group referred to themselves as “weres” and “lycanthropes”. The original users of this group became known as “greymuzzles”. Later, “therianthrope” would be coined as a more general version of lycanthrope. In 1999, “phenotypes” was used to discuss what “type” of therianthrope someone was.

In 1994, the first “howl”, was organized by a were in Ohio for members of the AHWW community to get to know one another. After this, several “howls” would be held multiple times a year, both by the AHWW community and other therian communities.

For otherkin, gatherings (or “gathers”) would be held by a variety of ‘types including elves, dragons, and unicorns.

2002-2004

The seven-pointed star (septegram) was used as a symbol to represent otherkin. Later, the theta-delta was created to represent therians.

Fictionkin was first used in 2004 on LiveJournal. However, for many years after this, “otakukin” and “mediakin” were the primary terms. “Fictionkin” was not the primary term until the 2010s.

2010-2011

The subreddit r/Otherkin is created. In 2011, the otherkin community blossomed on Tumblr. The community was reportedly focused on activism and validation and the term “non-human” was in use at this time. “Otherhearted” is coined on The Daemon Forum in 2011.

2014-2017

“Alterhuman” was coined by phasmovore on Tumblr to describe those who “differ from the common societal use of humanity”; it is now seen as an “umbrella term for otherkin, therians, fictionkin, dragons, vampires, plurals/systems, copinglinkers, and otherhearted individuals”.

Copinglink was coined by who-is-page on Tumblr in 2016, who defined it as “a nonhuman identity which is consciously created”.

In 2017, “Otherkin” was added to the Oxford dictionary (source; archived source)

2020-2024

The now widely used alterhuman flag was created in 2020 by Quiznoscoyote on Twitter and consists of green, white, and purple stripes with the theta-delta and septagram symbols interlocked.

In 2024, “holothere” was coined by Defrostedvertebrae on Tumblr to describe physical nonhumans.

——————————————————

Our history is in the making, where it goes is up to us. Keep in mind that some day, someone will look back at the community now and call us part of their history.

Sources

The House of Chimeras, Addendums to Scribner’s The Otherkin Timeline (November 2021). www.houseofchimeras.weebly.com

O. Scriber, The Otherkin Timeline (September 2012). www.orion.kitsunet.net/nonfic.html

The Otherkin Wiki. Alterhuman. www.otherkin.wiki/alterhuman

The Otherkin Wiki. Otherhearted. www.otherkin.wiki/otherhearted

The Otherkin Wik. Copinglink. www.otherkin.wiki/copinglink

[charlie-thewitch]

Ok so

BinggeYuan but Bingge thinks SY had a girlfriend/has been recently dumped.

I'm not a native english speaker so bear with me, ok?

Post Bingge vs Bingmei.

Bingge has been looking for his kind Shizun but! He's not some knucklehead, this man is smart and knows to analyze a situation before entering a potential fight. So, instead of just appearing in SY's apartment out of nowhere, he begins stalking poor unsuspecting SY to confirm if this is the man he's looking for. I mean they do share some resemblance but is that enough for a kidnapping?

But what does he see intead of a learned man studying or whatever he thought SY would occupy his days with? A woman. A beautiful woman going and coming from his apartment like she lived there (The horror! Kind shizun may not be unspoken for! Will he have to kill this woman? Decisions, decisions)

What's worse is that once the woman appears to come less and less frequently and BingBong decides it's time to stalk from closer SY seems to be absolutely drunk? And crying over his alcohol like an abandoned lover! Did she leave for another? It doesn't matter that SY doesn't know he exists, he can't cry over some hussy while Binghe is right here!! He! Is! Not! Allowed!

Oh, wait! This is the perfect time to pick up his new bride and just skip to his universe! Now new Shizun doesn't have a lover to go back to and can't refuse!

(Binghe, in fact, confirmed this was the man he was looking for in like an afternoon but the jealousy was too strong and he couldn't help but want to know how to destroy their relationship like a true homewrecker and immediately got obsessed)

ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

Shen Yuan just wants to know who's this gorgeous man that interrupted his I-can't-believe-pidw-it's-over-and-the-finale-wasn't-even-good pity party that he's been putting off for weeks because he accidentally almost killed himself on a bun and his sister decided he couldn't be trusted with himself anymore.

[hungharrington]

ok this is filth adjacent but would u ever write a lil blurb or fic about Steve with a gf whose super insecure about her stretch marks and body? And May be she doesn't want to disappoint Steve bc his exes seem prettier

would i ever! i love these type of requests i love ppl getting a little bit of respite and comfort through fic esp in smut! i hope this makes u feel even a little bit hotter babe <3 1.6k, afab!reader, and just filth adjacent sry! MDNI this entire blog is 18+

Steve's mouth is on your neck, his tongue hot where it teases against your skin, and his hands are searching your body with a lustful fervor.

Your head tips back. It's so easy to let him in, let him slide his body closer to yours, to get more of whatever he's giving. The hot press of his mouth on your neck feels damn good enough to make your blood sing—and heat travel between your thighs, wetness beginning to pool.

You want to rub your thighs together, if only for a little relief. Steve's toned thigh between them prevents it. You scrunch his polo between your hands instead, trying to wrestle the courage to slip your hands beneath it.

You're lying back on his bed, propped up lightly by the pile of pillows the two of you had stacked when the evening had begun. The television at the end of the bed runs a film idly in the background, completely unnoticed by this point.

"How we doin'?" Steve's voice rumbles out, barely parting his lips from your skin before he's swooping back in to nip at it again. The bastard.

Your hands flex again, finally mustering the nerve to dive beneath the fabric of his shirt. Steve's warm. You feel the muscles of his tummy shudder as you skim your fingers across it, a pleasurable shiver running down your spine at the trail of hair you can feel leading into his pants. Steve's breath hitches, close to your ear.

He nudges your jaw with his nose lovingly, planting another row of sloppy, wet kisses down the expanse of your neck.

"Hmm," He hums, questioningly. "Still doing good?"

You realise you hadn't exactly answered him and something glows in your chest at his insistent checks. Extremely reluctantly, you manage to drag your hands away from his torso, shifting them up to subtly nudge his face out the curve of your neck.

Steve's eyes dart up to your face as he pulls himself back, his expression turning dopey the moment your hands cup his jaw. His cheeks are flushed ruby and his hair has been mussed in all his steamy motions. He looks fucking delicious.

You kiss him — surging up to connect your mouths, warmth exploding in your chest and trickling down, down when Steve responds with a revere hunger. His plush lips scrape against yours filthily, his tongue always so perfectly teasing. You're gasping for air when you pull away.

"So good," You say breathily, finally answering the question.

Steve takes a moment longer to register what you've said—but that dopey look crosses his face the moment he does.

He plants his hands on the bed and shifts his weight back, sitting back on his heels. His thigh is still situated right between yours and you have to shove down the lustful urge to grind against it, lazy pleasure still pooling low in your gut. Though you're pretty sure Steve wouldn't oppose the idea.

Chest heaving lightly, you watch as Steve reaches for the edges of his polo and tugs upwards. It comes off in one smooth motion and you're rewarded with a fine sight. You're pretty sure your mouth actually waters in response. Tan chest, scattered moles, the smattering of hair. Oh god, you want to lick him.

Something in your face must give away your train of thought because Steve laughs. He leans back down, one hand moving to your waist, and nuzzles his nose against yours. He steals a kiss from your lips.

"See somethin' you like?" He says, the smirk evident in his tone. You feel like you might vibrate out of your skin.

"Shut up," You aim for fiesty and fall far, far short. You sound on the verge of a whine when you say, "You know I do."

Steve grins wider. His hand on your waist tucks under your shirt seamlessly, his thumb drawing maddening circles into the skin. Your breath catches, even as your arousal hikes.

"What about you?" He whispers the question between his kisses as he mouths along your jaw again, finding that same damn spot on your neck again. It'll be violet coloured by the morning. "Do I get to see something I'll like?"

He's asking permission. It takes a long moment to realise that—too distracted between the touch of his fingertips skating across your skin and the addicting feel of his lips against your pulse.

You nod without thinking.

Steve pulls your shirt up no more than a few inches before your brain catches back up. Your hand moves abruptly, grabbing his hand and yanking it and your shirt back down in a split second.

Steve's halting in an instant, pulling back from working lovebites on your neck to see what he's done wrong. There's a string of spit connecting his lips to your neck.

Steve frowns in concern, shifting his hand up wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, as he makes an effort to put a little distance between you.

"You okay?" He asks. You're still holding his wrist, which is still holding the edge of your shirt. "What happened?"

Your mouth opens uselessly and closes. You know precisely why you had stopped him and now you're facing up with the fact you have to tell him, lest Steve believe you're actually having second thoughts over being with him.

It's just... you've probably spent far too many hours in the mirror. You've seen it from every angle. Seen it in every lighting. You can't quite ever seem to make your body look good.

You don't look like any of the girls Steve's been with in the past.

Comparison is killer, you're aware of this, but infuriatingly you just can't seem to stop. You think of what Steve will see the moment he gets your shirt off, what he'll realise, and your hand tightens around his wrist subconsciously. Your throat tightens up too.

Steve's face melts into a softer expression, eyes big. "Hey, hey, it's totally fine if you said one thing and- and you realise that you didn't mean it, it's okay."

Words continue to evade you and humiliatingly, it feels more likely that tears will escape you before any explanation will. He's being so nice.

"But..." Steve continues, his tone wary as if aware he's treading on uneven ground. "You seemed like you were into it. Like, comfortable, I mean. Then it was like a flip switched and you froze."

"I-" You finally find your voice. You clear your throat as you try to find the right words, breaking Steve's intense gaze to study the ceiling.

This is worse. This has got to be worse that just Steve taking your shirt off and being disappointed because— because you're goddamn building up to it. Your eyes screw shut and you decide it's better to rip the band-aid off.

"I'm just," You can't quite keep the quiver out of your voice. "I'm not like- like girls you've dated before."

Steve makes a noise of confusion and it's enough to force your eyes open. You glance down, taking in Steve's adorably furrowed brow.

"Okay...?" He says, clearly still a bit confused.

"I mean, Steve," You say, voice a little steadier. Your hand around his wrist finally remembers to relax.

You release the hold on him and tuck your hand under your shirt discretely, covering the skin of your stomach you know is warped with stretch marks. "I don't look like the girls you've dated before. My- my body is different."

The wrinkle between Steve's brow shifts, moving from confused to something a little harsher.

"So?"

You blink. Of all the possibilities that you had run, not one of them had ended with Steve saying that.

"So?" You echo meekly. "So... so you might be like, I don't know, disappointed or think—mfh"

The words get smushed beneath Steve's fervent kiss, stealing one kiss off your lips and all your words with it. You blink up at him again, all your endless arguments of why Steve would be so disappointed suddenly silenced.

Steve grins, evidently pleased with his reaction.

Tentatively, moving slowly so you could intervene if you wished, he drags his hand along the sheets and onto your hip again. This time, however, he pushes the fabric of your shirt up and doesn't pause til it's bunched up, most of your torso on show.

Your nerves gather, gnawing at the edges of your chest. You can't bring yourself to move the hand that's trying to hide part of you, even if a dozen other stretch marks are visible now.

Then Steve leans down and he kisses your skin, right in the middle of your tummy.

"I think," He says, lips dragging across your skin and setting it aflame. He's looking up at your through his lashes, your gazes locked, his eyes dark. Another kiss, this time longer, with just a flash of tongue. "You're hot shit."

Instinct makes you want to scoff. But Steve says it so seriously that you almost believe him off the bat. Believe that he believes that.

He lowers himself onto his elbows, letting both of his large hands settle onto your waist, fingers pressing into the skin lightly. You shiver at the feeling and start to consider the possibility that he actually does think that.

"And I will gladly," He punctuates the word with another kiss, this one evolving into a soft, sensual lick up towards your breasts which peak lustfully in response. Your breath hitches. "Spend all the time needed if you need some convincing of that."

His hands move, sliding down til he's gently knocking yours aside, big warms hands spread across your hips. His thumbs are moving, drawing soft motions down, you realise, towards your waistband. Your pulse jumps between your legs, the heat in your body uncaring about the brief interruption.

Steve kisses your tummy again, further down this time. You acutely realise you've got Steve Harrington between your thighs, looking up at you with darkened eyes and promising filthy things with his fingers. Or mouth. Both if you're lucky.

"So," Steve murmurs, voice raspy and low. His thumbs slip beneath your waistband, just an inch. "You gonna let me convince you?"

You're feeling pretty damn lucky.

[wyllaztopia]

done and dusted

[twojamie-o-clock]

I’M BACK!! For a short time. This is all I have I’ll draw more in a few weeks I’ll probably be busy so😭😭 yeah. Enjoy

[officialdaydreamer00]

Aimless outing

in which you took your significant other out for a ride.

pairing: idia shroud x yuu/reader

contents: kinda short oneshot, lower case intended, this is just a spoonful of sugar tbh, everyone thank deuce for lending us his blastcycle, kinda ooc idia? idk, actually based on a screenshot in the game i'm playing and i love that lmao, reader is referred to as yuu, gender neutral reader and narrated with you/yours

★ the daydreamer speaks — my second entry for my tumblr older sibling @cloudcountry's sweet shroud summer 2024!! the worms are worming and i'm on a roll hehe ^-^

do i tag? yes, i do. my main idia liker: @edith-is-a-cat, others: @identity-theft-101 @keii-starz @xen-blank @loser-jpg @lemonchuu @dove-da-birb @twistwonderlanddevotee @escha-evenstar

remember to comment or reblog if you enjoy my work!!

"Yuu-shi, where are we going!?"

"Somewhere, anywhere! Does it really matter?"

a slow sunday and the lack of immediate tasks in your schedule was all you needed. and what better way to spend the day with your beloved than taking him out for a ride?

deuce was kind enough to lend you his blastcycle for this little trip of yours, wishing you good luck and all, and you've already gotten permission to go out from the headmage the day before, as much as you hated his gut. meanwhile, ortho was doing his best to get idia waiting outside of campus, and making sure he didn't second guess his desicions before you arrive.

and that led us to where you were now, going kilometres per hour as if gliding through the highway, feeling the cool wind of a chilly afternoon excitedly picking up your hair as the sun retreated behind the mountains. you loved the thrill it gave you, if the bright wide grin on your face was of any indications.

idia, on the other hand, was a bit overwhelmed. with his arms coiled tightly around your waist, hands trembling ever so slightly, he hid his face in your hair, not daring even a peek at the blurring surroundings.

"It's not a ride if you can't see what made it so fun in the first place, Idia! Just give it a try, then we can go back if you want."

idia stayed quiet, weighing his options. he could ask you to go back and return to the monotony of his life, safe yet nothing special. or, he could continue on this ride, just you and him on the road to an ambiguous destination.

he opened his eyes, widening as they laid on the most beautiful painting of dusk mother nature had drawn. white, pink, and orange blended together so harmoniously on a darkening blue canvas. rows of clouds lined the sky, bouncing around the little lights left of the sun onto the crashing waves the sea created.

his breath was taken away.

"Quite a sight, isn't it?"

idia could only muttered a soft 'yeah' as his eyes glued at picturesque scenery, taking in all he could for he wasn't sure he was going to see such a sight again. his tight grip on you slowly loosened, now only wrapping around your waist like a warm hug you would give him on chilly days.

the moon soon made its appearance as the canvas of nature was painted black, stars glimmering from beyond like diamonds in the sky. the two of you was making your way back to campus, with the blastcycle's headlights and idia's hair illuminating the road.

idia found the night sky beautiful, a lot different from dusk, but he loved it all the same.

it was a fleeting sensation of a thrill so different than what his heart was used to, but it was welcoming, a comfort even. especially when you were there with him, laughing without a care and genuinely living in the moment.

it was a memory he wished to never forget.

[fleuraimer]

how would carmy react if he ever accidentally hurt his girl…like not in a fun sexy way but in a real way…whether it’s genuinely fucking/spanking her too hard or saying something rather mean during sex

oh god i feel like he'd literally burst a blood vessel 😭

tw!! carm hurts his cub (emotionally). allusions to domestic ab*se (carm is a healing boy, all right?) happy ending.

i can see this happening after carmy loses for the first time. like, it sucks to lose for anyone, but this is carmen we’re talking about—the definition of a loser; a boy small and quiet enough to frighten into a corner, terrorize into a blank mind (poor, bruised boy. built a name for himself out of hollow self-confidence and false healing, a persona that crumbles with one (hundred) too many punches).

he walks through the tunnels with his head hung low, eddie’s hand massaging his right shoulder and benny’s soothing his left; nacho in front, his larger form shielding carm’s blotchy face from the inconsiderate paparazzi. y/n trails timidly beside her bear—hurting and erratic.

the locker room is stock-still silent as they file inside. usually, there's hollering and chanting in celebration as soon as they step through the threshold, and after congratulations and hugs (and kisses from his sweet cub), carm heads for the shower to wash away the grime of his brutal victory.

this time, though, there are no congrats to be given.

everyone seems to be walking on powder eggshells, overly tentative and precautionary as they tend to him. any questions they have for him are low and prudent, and any answers he has to offer them are clipped, and slightly cruel—finds it difficult to show kindness when their own is unwarranted, he lost. he failed (and failing does not call for sympathizing but for reprimanding, punishment; not consolation but condemnation).

"jus' fuck off, dude," carmen huffs, shrugging benny's hand of his shoulder. he sighs, drops his palm from figure and turns on his heal to walk out, anxiously twirling his toothpick along his tongue.

he steps next to y/n, where she waits, pretty in pink, like always, with her hands folded in front of her legs, eyes to the floor. he bumps his boney shoulder to hers, "think he needs you." her eyes flit up to meet his, and he gives her a small smile, and look of encouragement. "go get him, tiger," he whispers gently.

famous last words.

everyone silently gets the message and leaves the locker room to give carmen his space; all except his girl, his sweet cub.

"carmy," she utters softly, stepping toward him.

he throws her a look over his shoulder, "not now, cub, i'm... not now."

she frowns—presses still.

"carm," she tries again, sliding a supple palm up the curve of his back.

he jerks away from her touch, "not fuckin' now, y/n!" he keeps his back to her and starts toward the medical bed, blood dripping from his fingertips.

she bristles, but doesn't let him see it. takes a defesive step back, kicks up her chin, and swallows the lump in her throat (she hated it when he yelled, when he bunched himself up and tucked himself away in that corner of his mind, away from everyone, even her, but his protector. she couldn't help him there, couldn't pry him from the clutches of claws).

"please don't speak to me like that, carmen," she says, soft but firm. "i'm your girlfriend, not on payroll."

he snorts as he rips a white towel off the overhead shelf and starts soaking up the blood from his various wounds. he's rough as he scrapes it up and down his battered body, hurtful. y/n longs to reach out and do it for him—delicate and caring, the way he deserves—but keeps her twitching hands at her sides.

"fuckin' act like it," he mutters under his breath.

her eyebrows rise with indignation, "excuse me?"

"i said y'fuckin' act like you're on my payroll, shit!"

y/n's spent a long time trying to learn how to not be sensitive. she came from a household of men—four brothers, all boxers, thanks to her father—but just because she was constantly surrounded by their brutality doesn't mean she ever fully adapted to it. she inherited their tough skin—took the chipped pieces on the gym floor and melded them to her flesh herself, thicker, harder to pierce—but she couldn't bury her very being, no matter how hard she tried; she would always be a sensitive soul.

she exhales a shaky breath, her fingers curling into her palms, nails digging. he didn't mean it, he was just upset with himself.

"watch your damn tone, carmen."

"or what?" he scoffs, whipping around to face her, tossing the bloodied towel to the side. it's the first good look she's gotten at his face since the start of the fight, and it makes her want to scream.

he's got a swollen, bruised left eye and a crooked nose, a swelling jaw and busted lips; battered and bloodied, from his collarbone, scattered all across his torso.

her throat threatens to close up, and carmy's taking a looming step closer to her too fast for her to combat it.

"what the fuck are you gonna do? fuckin' bitch at me like you always do, huh?" she flinches as he gets in her face, stumbling back. "carmy this and carmy that, but s'never fucking good enough, is it? you just get to sit there and look pretty—live in my house, use my fuckin' money—and god fuckin' forbid i ever ask anything of you!" he throws his arms up, exasperated, huffs out a laugh, though it's certainly humorless. "i'd screw those precious fuckin' feelings a'yours, get y'cryin' like the fuckin' crybaby y'are..."

his voice trails off, the fiery blaze in his eye faltering—like he knows he's fucked up—but his face hardens again before she has the chance to decipher it.

there's part of her that wants to hurt him the way he's just hurt her, put up a fuckin' fight and scream at him the way they're both so used it. another part, though—a much stronger part—is too hurt to hurt him; too sad that her bear would take violence and cruelty over the kindness of others because he'd never been taught how.

she looks at him with a broken furrow between her brow—a bitter smile on her lips. her voice is watery as she starts, "i never asked you for any of that. you offered, and i accepted. and my sincerest fucking apologies for being a human, with emotions." she scoffs, let's out her own humorless laugh. she bites her lips to try and stop the river of tears at bay, looks to the side so he won't notice as a tear slips down her red cheek.

carmen exhales a long breath—he went too far. "cub—"

she lifts a dismissive hand, "no, y'know what? it's fine," she sniffs harshly, rubs underneath her eyes to stop the stray tears from slipping. "i'm— i'm gonna give you some space," she utters, turning to find her purse and coat. carmy watches her gathering her things uselessly, stuck. "seems like y'could use it."

she doesn't look back at him as she rushes to the door, and only stops when she feels a large paw grazing the exposed skin of her back.

"y/n," he whispers, wavering, unsure.

she brushes his hand from her figure.

"i'll be at your house," she mumbles, and slips out of the door.

when it slams shut, carmy can't help the chocked sob that works its way up his sore throat. he stumbles backward, trips over his feet and crumbles to his knees. he curls into himself (like the boy in his mind, tucked safely in the corner), wraps his aching arms around his bent legs a cries like the crybaby he'd just accused his girlfriend of being.

his sweet cub.

god, he fucked up. they fight, so much—too much. he knows her mannerisms, has studied the inclinations of her sadness, frustration, irritation, and anger. he can't ever recall being faced with her disappointment, however, her utter hurt.

he fucked up, bad. but he's gonna fix it (has to, or the boy in the corner will never stop shaking with fear, sobbing, wailing—waiting for his protector to return with his cub).

——

it's late when carmen gets home. their home, not his (couldn't call it his, was never his when she's the one who made his house a home). he walks through the door of their penthouse with his hands full—his duffle bag, a bag of take out (from the three michelin star joint down on 39th), a heart-box of chocolates, and a large bouquet of flowers—and his tail tucked between his wobbly legs.

he places her gifts on the kitchen counter when he walks by in passing, groaning in relief as weight is lifted away from his body (he got beat the shit out of—had to if he fuckin' lost).

he walks into their bedroom as quietly as he can, softly kicking the door shut behind him. in their king-sized bed lay his sweet cub, curled up beneath the blankets—chin tucked and knees pulled to her chest—in a baby pink nightie and matching bonnet. he watches the subtle rise and fall of her back, smile fondly.

he shuffles to the foot of the bed and sets his duffle there, then moves around to her side, kneeling before his sleeping beauty.

"cub," he whispers, feather light as he presses stray baby hairs peaking through the band of her bonnet back underneath. "wake up f'me, baby, 've got some grovelin' t'do."

she groans groggily into the sheets as she starts to come to, stretches out like a cat as her tear-clumped, heavy eyes peel open.

"hey, sweet cub," he murmurs. she eyes him blankly through fluttery lashes.

he deserves that.

"i'm sorry, my girl," he sighs heavily, beginning to pet at her blotchy cheek. "i didn't mean it, fuckin' any of it. you don't bitch at me, y'never ask too much of me," he brings his free hand up to cradle her pretty face as tears begin to well in her eyes. "this is your house, your home. my money is yours, more than it's mine—fuckin' spend it all, cub, i don't care," the both huff out a short laugh, his fond, hers snotty. "y'not a crybaby, you're my baby—my girl, my sweet fuckin' cub, and i'm so goddamn sorry i said those things to you, baby."

she sniffles, curls her fingers around his wrists to keep him close. "y'mean it?"

his lips twitch up in a gentle smile, "i mean it, cub; m'so fuckin' sorry, sweetheart."

"good."

she pulls him in by her grip on his wrists, mouth pressing to his.

safe to say he's forgiven (he carries her out to the kitchen—arms clasped around his neck, legs wrapped around his waist—and presents her gifts to her for good measure, though. sits her in his lap and feeds her yummy pasta and chocolate with a glass of sangria, one of her go-to drinks, to see that giddy smile.

then eats her out of the kitchen counter, too).

——

a/n: how to make the writing process go faster no glue no borax

not edited/proofread!!

[shiiro-arts]

Question: How can we say Natsu treats Lucy differently compared to the rest of his nakama? We have seen him being angry emotional during Erza "funeral" (in the first season) and his reaction when topic of Lisanna's death comes up. He even blushed when Lisanna used to talk about marriage and all (just before she passed away when Happy and Natsu have another fight). He never really expressed any physical interest in Lucy EVER and is mostly lukewarm in his reactions unless she is in danger or hurt. He didn't even hesitate when he was asked to kiss Lucy.

So how can we say that Lucy is different from all these people? I hope you understood my question.

(PS I am a huge NaLu shipper but I hate how they handle serious moments)

Well, I think that we have to clear something up, and its that Lucy and Natsu are more than Lucy and Natsu.

Natsu's world doesn't revolve around Lucy, and Lucy's world doesn't revolve around Natsu. They are their own persons with their own dreams and goals (and this is completely fine)

Natsu is a very passionate person, who loves his friends and family, he has known Erza and Lisanna since they were children, it is obvious that he will be emotional about their "deaths". Just like he was with future Lucy's.

Why do I think Natsu treats Lucy differently? Well, because he does. Literally. Not only does Natsu avoid any kind of (serious) fight with Lucy, but he is emotionally vulnerable with her, he becomes soft. I'm going to focus on Erza and Lucy because we don't have enough interactions with Lisanna.

Natsu is an extremely violent person, even when Erza was distressed his solution was punching her (even if it was for her own good or not),

Now, we have never seen Natsu use violence to console Lucy (or in general), they are always soft, comforting moments

He just can't hurt her, at least not willingly, it's beyond him.

Just like when he had to fight snake lucy and completely stopped thinking she was back

I want to pinpoint his reactions to different deaths, because even those are different

When Lissana, erza or even Igneel died, Natsu felt helpless and sad

Lucy? He wanted to burn the world down, kill his best friend out of grieve and then kill himself in the process just because he thought he had lost her forever. (I talk about this here)

-.-.-.-

About the physical interest, I kind of disagree, It is true that he doesn't show as much physical desire like other men in FT but he does in his own way. We have seen natsu fantasize over Lucy

be jealous of other men for her attention

and become possessive of her

He is not responsive because almost every time they have a physical moment he sees it coming, is mentally prepared for it or he initiates them.

NOW, what happens when Lucy initiates or he doesn't see it coming?

My man becomes a blushing mess (this is mainly shown in official art tho)

but he never shows jealousy or possessiveness towards erza, because Erza is not Lucy

[harrowharkwife]

i'm so used to there just being random unidentified bones laying around everywhere in these damn books that it finally occurred to me, just now, to wonder where the bones on new rho came from. y'know, the bones palamedes always tried to teach nona necromancy on.

they're his.

palamedes, who always loved teaching, living on borrowed time in a body that's not his own. palamedes, mentoring, teaching- parenting, by sixth standards, mind you. and that boy is sixth, through and through.

and the entire point of teaching nona necromancy in the first place was to try and determine if nona is, well, nonagesimus, right? so it has to be bones, it can't not be bones. bones are, like, her whole thing.

but they're not in the nine houses, anymore. things are different, on new rho.

they burn bones here. dig up the cemeteries. a society terrified of zombies will evolve to dispose of its dead differently.

the only bones he has access to now are his own. (camilla wouldn't let anyone take them- skull or hand, doesn't matter. they're still him, and she doesn't let go, remember? it's her one thing.)

palamedes woke up every morning wearing someone else's body to then gently place the shrapnel of his own in the cupped palms of a girl who's the closest thing he'll ever have to a daughter and try to teach her- how did the angel put it, again? normal school, as much as possible, for as long as possible.

(but hey, in a roundabout way, at least it's a chance for him to touch camilla again, right? nevermind that she's not there to feel any of it because he's in the driver's seat, that he can only stay for fifteen minutes at a time. it's atoms that belong to camilla touching atoms that used to belong to him, and that's close enough. he'll take what he can get, these days- if she can be their flesh, he can be the end. so what if holding his own bones is a mindfuck? so what if looking at them makes him nauseous? surely he can suck it up and deal with it for fifteen minutes. it's the least he can do— his poor camilla was the one who had to scrape the bloody pulp of them off the floors of canaan house.)

(speaking of, here's a fun fact: we actually only see nona practicing with the bones one time, on-page. camilla's final line in that scene, before palamedes takes over, is none other than: 'keep going. there are some bones left.' ow!)

remember, too, that the only part of dulcinea, the real dulcinea, that palamedes ever physically touched, was her tooth- the one that ianthe gave him, pulled from the ashes cytherea burnt her down to. he only ever touched dulcie once, and it wasn't until after she was already gone, but that doesn't matter- it still happened, and you can't take loved away.

in this same roundabout, bittersweet, by-proxy sort of way, palamedes has been physically touched by nona, too: the atoms she currently occupies, touching atoms that he used to occupy, and never will again.

the main interaction we've seen between palamedes and his mother took place back on the sixth, with her acting as mentor and him as pupil: the two of them studying a set of hand bones, juno encouraging him every step of the way.

we know that harrowhark's "most vivid memory of her mother was of her hands guiding harrow's over an inexpertly rendered portion of skull, her fingers encircling the fat baby bracelets of harrow's wrists, tightening this cuff to indicate correct technique."

they're still small for a nineteen year old, but the wrists are bigger, in this new set of memories nona's making. and it's not an inexpertly rendered portion of skull anymore- it's a hand, now, albeit one crafted from [a piece of skull reassembled (painstakingly—passionately—laboriously reassembled) from fragments, manually, and not by a bone magician, from the skull of someone who, soon after death or symptomatically during, had exploded.] and the identity and origin of these bones is no mystery at all. they belong to palamedes, and he's consented to their use for this purpose, and that matters.

but the details are just set dressing, really. the foundation of the memory is the same.

palamedes and his mother, juno and her son.

harrow and her mother; pelleamena and her daughter.

nona and her father-mother-teacher; palamedes and his daughter.

[sturnina]

Jealousy

Chris Sturniolo x Fem!reader

— tags;; mentions of a physical fight & injury, injury tending, fighting, pet name (baby), no use of yn, toxic habits (overprotectiveness)

— wc;; 1282

— author‘s note;; my take on overprotectiveness since i hate the „touch her and you die“ trope, hope you enjoy <3

He did it again.

You don‘t know how to feel as you silently drive home, Chris in the passenger seat, seemingly oblivious to the storm raging in your mind.

He did it again. He hit a guy just because he looked at you weirdly.

Don‘t get me wrong, you love his protective side. It is hot, honestly. The way he always makes sure everyone knows you‘re his girl, the way his arm sneaks around your waist at parties, the way he gets rid of other boys trying to flirt with you.

But this… this wasn‘t protective, this was violent. He hit a guy, for the second time this week. The second time in four days.

Yes, the guy was rude and obnoxious. Yes, you felt uncomfortable around him. Yes, you were relieved when Chris came to your help after the guy wouldn‘t listen to your No’s.

But Chris‘s punch, it wasn‘t protective. It was violent, brutal, merciless. And of course, the guy hit him back, right on his cheek.

When you glance to your right, you can see the dark patch forming on your boyfriend‘s cheekbone.

You arrive home — your house, not the triplets‘ —, and you go to fetch the first aid kit immediately after entering through the front door. Chris trails in behind you, unbothered by his split lip and bruised cheek.

He just sits down at the kitchen table, knowing you will take care of him. Expecting you to.

You take an ice pack out of the refrigerator and settle down next to Chris, all in complete silence. You can‘t bear to hear his voice now, or your own. You‘re afraid it might give your thoughts away. And your eyes, your eyes will surely betray you, so you keep them focused on the ice, the bruise, your hand, anything but Chris‘s eyes. That he is looking at you constantly isn‘t helping.

But eventually, he picks up on your uncharacteristically silent behaviour.

“Hey,” he says softly. “Everything alright?”

You swallow thickly, knowing your voice will give in the second you try to speak. So you remain silent. For exactly three seconds, dabbing a cotton pad at his split lip, before Chris speaks again.

“That dick won‘t bother you anymore.”

Of course, he thinks that‘s the problem. Of course.

“That‘s not what I‘m worried about,” you mutter, stoically keeping your eyes on his injuries.

“You‘re worried about me? Oh, baby, you know I can take care of myself,“ Chris says warmly.

“That’s not… I am worried about you, Chris. You need to stop this. But-”

“Baby, you know I won‘t,“ he mutters, slowly tilting your chin up with the hand that isn‘t holding the ice pack. “Those pricks deserve it.“

“Besides the fact that no one deserves to get beat up, that‘s not what I mean,“ you say, pulling away from him. “You need to stop or you‘ll end up in serious trouble.“

“I won‘t,“ he says softly. “I promise. I just want to teach them a lesson-”

“You‘re not listening to me, Chris!”

“What are you talking about, of course I‘m listening to you,“ he says, his brows furrowing.

“No you‘re not,“ you scoff. “I see the way you look at the guys you‘re going to hit. I‘m not blind. I can see that you want it.“

“Of course I want it,“ Chris says, laying a hand on your arm. “I need to protect my girl-”

“That‘s not what I mean, and we both know it,“ you snap, quickly closing your mouth and taking a deep breath. “I am just an excuse. Don‘t deny it!“

He already opened his mouth but closes it again, worry and confusion clouding his gaze. “Baby-”

“No. Listen to me,“ you interrupt him, trying to keep your tone calm. “You like the confrontation, don‘t you? The adrenaline? But you can‘t see… You don‘t see the way it‘s hurting me.“

Chris‘s expression falters for a moment. “I don‘t- what are you- what do you mean? I don‘t understand…“ he stutters.

“No, you don‘t,“ you say softly, pulling your arm out of his grip and standing up to bring more distance between you.

He really doesn‘t. He doesn‘t understand the way your heart clenches every time a guy even just glances at you in public. He doesn’t understand the way your thoughts start racing even when someone is just walking in your direction. He doesn‘t understand the way you‘re terrified of talking to anyone while out with him — out of fear to trigger his jealousy.

The air feels thick as you look at his expression, his desperate eyes, the bruise on his cheek and his still-bleeding lip.

“Explain it to me,“ he says, “please, what am I doing wrong?“

“You don‘t see the way you‘re hurting me, hurting everyone around you,“ you whisper, your voice just as thick now. The words feel like they‘re stuck in your throat and you have to force yourself to speak them. „I hate seeing people hurt, especially you. I hate seeing you get hurt, and knowing- knowing that it‘s because of me.“

“That‘s not true, baby, I‘m-”

“Please, Chris,“ you whisper, tears collecting in your eyes, “Please let me finish. I hate avoiding to go- to go out in public with you just because I can‘t… I can‘t trust you not to lash out at someone, I hate b-being scared every time someone looks at me or talks to me, I- I just… I hate seeing you angry, I hate seeing you violent, I hate seeing you like that… And yet you- you keep doing it, n-no matter how o-often I ask you to stop…“ Your throat is clogged, your breaths are laboured, your eyes are watering, and you physically can‘t speak anymore, the words having drained out of your head. But there is one sentence left, one you‘re terrified to even think.

And Chris is just standing there, the words burning in his mind, on his skin, digging into his flesh while he tries not to rush to hug you because he knows, he knows it wouldn‘t help. And then he feels the tears running down his face, and the pain ripping through his chest. You don‘t trust him. You can‘t trust him, you said it yourself. You‘re scared of him.

Fists clenching at his sides, he lets that sink in. Everything he‘s done for you, everything he thought he‘s done for you, crumbles under the heavy weight of reality, the realisation that he‘s been hurting you all along.

He steps forward, raises his arms, and sees the way you cross your arms. A shielding gesture. Chris thinks he can hear his heart finally shatter at that, after slowly cracking over the entire conversation.

There are no words he can use to explain himself. He knows he should apologise. But how do you apologise after terrifying your girl over and over again without even noticing? What words are there to express the mixture of frustration, fear, and self-hatred he‘s feeling against himself?

Chris drops his arms to his sides.

He turns around, and leaves.

And you are left alone. The front door slams closed, but you don‘t even flinch. Your mind is full, and so are your eyes, your ears, everything is clogged with memories, everything is breaking inside you, but you are relieved.

You are relieved, because how could you bear his overwhelming presence any longer, with one last question, one last sentence burning on your mind, a question you can‘t ignore but also can‘t speak, not in front of him?

How can you be sure he will never lash out at you? How can you be sure that you will never be on the receiving end of his fist?

[pedriscroquettes]

𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐑 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄? ✮ F. LÓPEZ

summary. fermín wants to celebrate his new trophy with you.

warnings. 18+ mean! fermín. smut.

gabri speaks! paz!reader universe is back due to popular demand.

the view of the apartment the guys rented for the party was breathtaking. madrid was a beautiful city, you were glad your brother had convinced your parents to move in with him. although right now you were alone in madrid surrounded by a bunch of players you didn’t know. a bunch of players your brother hated. in the midst of drunk players and their friends you kept tugging your short red dress every five minutes. you were beginning to regret even coming, you were only here because of a certain blonde. a blonde you had yet to see.

“didn’t bring nico?” you’re startled by a familiar voice.

“why? you have a crush on my brother?” you ask him surprised at the sudden interest fermín had for your brother.

“no but it would’ve been nice to show him what a trophy looks like.” you can barely see him through the dim lights but you know he’s smirking. you can hear it in his voice.

“if i’m not wrong you barely had minutes. i’m not too sure you have any bragging rights.” you test him.

“and somehow i played more minutes than your brother has his whole career.” his tone changes. “watch your mouth. you look prettier like that.”

you’re taken aback by his change in demeanor quite frankly you weren’t sure you’d ever seen him this riled up. he’s rough and threatening, his good boy facade long gone. you’re amused by the way he’s acting wondering if he’s trying to get you to sleep with him again. you place your hand on his jaw while the other goes into his hair, tempting him.

“it’s such a shame that you could be celebrating your win but instead you’re bitching about my brother like a sad little envious child.” you say sharply not taking insults to your brother lightly.

the smirk that once adorned his face was now gone and you could tell he was mad at you now. he grips your hands away from him with such a tight hold you’ll know they’ll be bruised tomorrow. his eyes pierce into yours with a threatening look and you realize you’ve successfully riled him up.

“okay, that’s it.” he murmurs.

one minute you’re looking at fermín dead in the eye and the next you feel his hands grip your waist. his hold is so strong on you that he manages to carry you over his shoulder with ease. you’re not that surprised at how easily he’s picked you up, you’ve noticed how bulkier he got over the past year. when the guy you’ve been fucking on the low gets hotter you notice.

“fermín! put me down!” you shriek.

the blonde just finds it funny laughing at your vulnerability. your screams manage to get the attention of his teammates and their guests. the least you could say is that he was embarrassing you in front of everyone and you hoped that none of the real madrid players were here. the last thing you needed was to get embarrassed and scolded by your brother. the faces of the guest slowly fade away as fermín drags you to what you can assume is his room. he gently drops you on the bed before laying down next to you.

“you’re such an asshole.” you whine as you fix your dress. it’s then that you realize that some of the guests had probably seen your dress skirt up, your face heats up instantly at that.

you don’t get to bicker at him for much longer because he pulls you on top of him. his hands instantly go towards your hips — a muscle memory for him by now — and holds you. you can already feel him grow hard against you and you get excited. the two of you had just argued and now here he was with a hard on. he thrusts up against you causing a whine to slip past your lips at the sensation.

“such a shame that you could use your mouth for beautiful noises like this instead of arguing.” he murmurs under his breathe trying to contain his groans.

it’s your turn to grind against him causing his breath to falter. he places himself against the crook of your neck as you continue your movements, leaving wet kisses along your throat. you move your hands into the light curls of his hair as you feel yourself growing wetter.

“instead of trying to compete against my brother every five seconds you could be fucking me but you don’t see me complaining.” and there you go always trying to have the last word.

“shut the fuck up and spread your legs.” he groans.

you hesitate but you obey nevertheless. his hand trails down your figure until he places it firmly on your thigh, teasing you. he knows you need him and the idea of making you frustrated is amusing to him. you can’t stand it anymore — his touch being so close yet so far — you yearn him. it’s almost pathetic except for the fact that you know he feels the same way. he’s the one who wanted you first and he always ends up satisfying you even if he’s mad.

his fingers slowly tread up your leg and you grow frustrated at the edging. you can’t stand it anymore so you drag his fingers to where you need him the most causing a teasing laugh to leave his lips. you know he’ll give you shit about this later but you don’t care, you need him. he also seems to think the same as he doesn’t waste time spreading your wetness along your folds. your hips instinctively grind into his hand as his fingers start circling your clit causing waves of pleasure throughout your body.

“oh, fuck.” you whine as he brings a couple of his fingers towards your hole.

“say you want my fingers.” he looks at you with a defying grin. “say it or else i’ll leave you here all alone.”

“fuck fermín please.” you gasp as one of his fingers enters you slowly. “i need your fingers, please”

he leaves a quick kiss on your jaw before inserting you with his second finger. your body collapses against his chest as he fucks you slowly. the intrusion is sudden and your hands grip the sheets below you as he fills you up. the feeling is intense and you feel feral at the way you moan without holding back. the thing about fermín was that while he was asshole at least he fucked, hard. his free hand grabs you by the throat forcing you to look at him as you ride his hand.

he looks at you in awe admiring the way your eyes get glossy as you fuck yourself on his fingers. he analyzes the way your hair bounces with every movement of your hips and how your eyes close and your nose scrunches a bit before reaching your peak. he adds a third finger hoping to help you reach your high. you’re full on whining in his ear now as he fills you up completely. the sensation of your walls clinging to his fingers so tightly also allow him a sense of satisfaction.

“fermín. please.” you weren’t even sure what you were begging for. you only knew that you were close.

“you’re so close.” he whispers as he pulls you in for a kiss. the kiss is sloppy but soft. a mixture of lost and love. it scares you, nevertheless you come around his fingers gasping as you wet his fingers.

“fuck, that was hot. you’re hot.” fermín rambles as he helps you come down from your orgasm.

as you adjust your dress and fix your hair fermín watches you intensely. he’s tired of only seeing you like this and never normally. he hadn’t slept with anyone else since you came into his life and you were making him crazy. the feeling of knowing fran was so close of having you too was too much for him and he wasn’t sure why felt so possessive about you.

was it just lust or was it love?

[remxedmoon]

“the valiant bison. it leaps to protect its fellow creatures, but not you.”

hooved

2 power - 8 health - 3 blood

protector - when a creature on this card’s side of the field is about to take damage, this card will jump forward to take the hit instead.

sharp quills - once a card bearing this sigil is struck, the striker is then dealt a single damage point.

BISABEAU!! YIPEEE! and a fancy custom sigil to go with him! wow! writeup below, as always

that custom sigil huh!! i had to rewrite that description SO MANY TIMES and it STILL ISN’T PERFECT GRAAAA. i couldn’t fit it into the proper description, but isa’ll return to his original spot after taking the hits. he basically redirects all attacks on his teammates to himself. like a moleman but in reverse.

also ^ he won’t try to protect terrain cards! because that’s a boulder. not his friends. the entire concept around the sigil is based around him protecting his friends from harm.

sharp quills is there to let him counterattack while covering for his allies! fun fact, in my original concept for this card, this was replaced with the mighty leap sigil?? for some reason??? even though airborne cards can’t attack cards on the field?????? idk what my thought process there was. thank god i caught that before finalizing his card

don’t ask how he has sharp quills btw. it’s uhh. his horns. yes. the quills are his horns.

i went back and forth between calling him a bison or a buffalo. his design was based more on water buffalo than american bison? but i ended up going with bison just because it was shorter lol. plus the bisabeau pun. i am beholden to the pun.

you might’ve noticed that the patch is in a different spot here! i couldn’t find a spot that didn’t cover an important part of the card. so i had to go through the miserable experience of moving the patch and cutting it out even more thoroughly to prevent it from messing up the pixels around it. somehow that damn patch was harder to make than the CUSTOM SIGIL.

speaking of the sigil patch. he gets burrower! which makes him move to any empty space that’s about to be attacked. functionally, this means that ALL damage on the board will get redirected to him. except for airborne attacks i guess

this card doesn’t have a hidden trait! and there’s a reason for that! because…

“a meek, unassuming calf. it has not yet learned its own strength.”

hooved

0 power - 2 health - 2 blood

fledgling - a card bearing this sigil will grow into a more powerful form after 1 turn on the board.

clinger - when one of your creatures is placed in a space, a card bearing this sigil will move towards them as far as possible.

TWO CARDS!! he gets to have a fledgling form :3

fledgling is self explanatory i think? i wanted to keep some kind of reference to his Change and this was the best way i could think of! lil baby thing based on his past self…

clinger is a sigil from act 3! it’s like. only on the lonely wizbot i think. initially i was just going to give them sprinter (which makes them move to a different space after attacking) but it felt… too similar to the elk fawn for my liking. and it felt more appropriate character-wise

this card is also part of the reason why i went with bison. buffalo calf is a long name!!!

idk how well it comes across but they have their lil braid!! i wanted to include the glasses in some way but it felt a little out of place with the card design. so they only have the braids. a necessary sacrifice

i realize that burrower is a TERRIBLE sigil for this card but! i had to keep it consistent with his mature form. hope your bison calf doesn’t fling itself into danger and die! oops!

that’s everything to do with these cards! phew! that was a lot of text. here’s the patchless versions!